#and now my man is in all black with only a small gold earring to show from his previous vibe

[lilacwatchguard]

The Blue Glow Softens You And Me

If this looks familiar it is also on my ao3 under the same name by Lexitennant2 :)

Relationship: Jayce x Viktor

Warnings: 18+smut, most if not all are in tags but; sex, praise kink, dom/sub undertones, pwp, use of 'puppy' as term of endearment but could be interpreted another way if you really want to, I'm not here to judge

Summary:

Jayce feels dirty.

He's only known Viktor for a week now but the man is constantly in his thoughts. He wants to touch him, to bask in his partners attention and hang off his every word. He's obsessed and he thinks he'll never get a chance with Viktor but then...Viktor sees him in the shower and he sees his own wants reflected back at him.

Maybe there is hope.

Word Count: 15,189

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jayce feels dirty.

Physically , he’s still sweaty from the forge, the small towel for his face hanging limply around his neck. There’s black tingeing his fingers; could be oil from the machines or any other number of countless substances lingering in the forge. His white tank top clings to his chest and he wants to pull it off, feeling itchy from the cooling sweat, but he’s walking the halls of the academy and he can’t walk through it shirtless. It’s probably taboo that he's not in his uniform, but he forgot his change of clothes in the lab he shares with Viktor.

Which is where he’s heading now, keeping his head ducked low to ignore the stares he’s getting - some appreciative, some disgusted - and hurries his pace.

Not because he wants his clothes - well that’s not the main reason, he would love a chance to shower, the hot water hitting pleasantly sore muscles, changing into academy issued sweats so he can keep working in the lab - but because Viktor is still there.

Mentally, he’s dreamt of fucking Viktor on their work bench, the blue glow of the hextech highlighting every sharp angle of Viktor’s face, and giving him a soft ethereal glow. It kind of scares him, this wanting , he has for his partner. His science partner. He wants to bite and chew on that stupid mole that sits a little above his upper lip. He wants to lick and trace the curves of Viktor’s angled nose. Jayce wants to sit him in his lap and tear him apart, slowly. Wants to know what sounds he’d make, if he’d bite his bottom lip like he does when they’ve reached a snag in their research.

Fuck, it’s only been a week since councilor Medarda gave them their chance to stabilize the hextech. Seven days since Jayce’s ears started ringing when he registered Viktor’s excuse later in the night, after they’d finally found a way to come back down. 

Oh this isn’t my bedroom.

Who fucking says that?!

Jayce had already been a little hot under the collar, the exhilaration from the weightlessness, of his Arcane dream finally, finally coming to fruition. The leftover adrenaline from getting caught outside Heimerdinger's lab.

He’d started out picturing Mel. 

She was stunning. Only an idiot couldn’t see it. Her eyes were sharp but playful, her lips full. The glittering gold that shimmered on her face made her seem like a dessert, brushed with gold dust. A rich cake that Jayce wanted to try. But when his mind drifted to her waist, imagining grabbing the white fabric of her dress and bunching it up to pull it up, to reveal her to him, the waist had changed.

There was no white dress anymore, the white now the vest of the academy’s uniform. The waist was slightly larger now but still ridiculously small for who it belonged to. 

Jayce hadn’t even paused with palming at his cock, which was hardening faster. 

Jerking off to Viktor had made him cum so hard he saw stars.

He’d laid in his bed, in the aftermath, panting heavily and feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

He felt guilty. He shouldn’t have even been jerking off to the councilor let alone Viktor. These were two people he knew , arguably not that well, but it was clear their future’s would become intertwined after this night.

And they had.

He doesn’t think he’s left Viktor’s side for more than a couple hours over the span of the week. They both were night owls, though Jayce at least tried to get some semblance of sleep with naps on the lab's saggy couch. 

It was with sleep delirium that Jayce spent half an hour unsure if he was actually tracing Viktor’s face with his fingertips, or if he was hallucinating the entire time. Viktor never brought it up but Jayce could’ve sworn he’d felt the beginnings of stubble under his fingers; a warm cheek in his palm.

Jayce takes the towel around his neck and uses it to wipe some more sweat off his forehead. The towel is soaked in his hand and he grimaces.

Clothes bag. Shower. Something to eat. Stolen glimpses of Viktor at the chalkboard, his long fingers twirling the chalk in one hand while he leaned heavily on his cane.

Jayce pushed open the lab doors, slinging the towel on the table, wincing when it made a wet smack.

“Ah good thank you, I always thought our notes needed a biohazard intermingled with them,” Viktor says dryly, not even looking up from where he’s sitting, hunched over the lab table with notebooks strewn everywhere.

“It’s just sweat Vik,” Jayce says lightly, though he does go over and pick up the towel again, spinning in a half circle to figure out where to put it. He should’ve just left it at the forge. They had a basket for used towels there but Jayce had wanted it for the walk over.

Viktor lifts his head up and raises an eyebrow.

He looks Jayce up and down, sending a fire straight to Jayce’s groin and he has to think of naked Councilor Hoskel to stamp down anything stirring downstairs.

“Yes well, your sweat just got several pages wet,” Viktor says, licking his lips and looking at the papers that indeed have a wet splotch on them.

“Shit were they important?” Jayce asks, deciding to just drop the towel - he’ll deal with it later - and walks over to scoop the papers up.

Viktor waves a dismissive hand and sighs.

“No, no. Just more useless equations that make me question if I ever knew math in the first place.”

Jayce sets the papers down in a neat pile and rounds the table to stand behind Viktor. He doesn’t really think much of his actions as he puts both hands on Viktor’s shoulders and gives them a harsh squeeze.

Viktor tenses under his touch and lets out a slow breath.

“How long have you been working at it? Since I left for the forge?” Jayce asks, bending over Viktor so he can get a better view of what his partner is working on. The back of Viktor’s head is now pressing against Jayce’s chest but for once he’s not focusing on all the places their bodies are touching. He’s more focused on trying to remember when the last time he saw Viktor take a break was. The other scientist was always pushing himself to the brink and it was up to Jayce to reel him back.

Viktor seemed to forget he was only human.

“Yes,” Viktor says, his voice sounding oddly choked to Jayce’s ears and he gives Viktor’s shoulders another squeeze.

“You feeling ok V? You know if you work yourself too much you’ll get sick,” Jayce says, worry in his tone as he takes one of his hands off Viktor’s shoulder so he can put the back of it against Viktor’s forehead.

“You don’t feel that hot,” he mutters out loud and Viktor shudders against him.

Jayce is suddenly aware of how he’s looming over Viktor and he pulls away reluctantly, giving Viktor space.

“Right well, I’m going to quickly shower and get changed, in the mean-time think about what you want for dinner. We can order in.”

Jayce is half-way across the room by the end of his sentence, his heart beating fast and his ears starting to get hot with embarrassment. He locates his duffle bag under a chair and heads off to the decontamination showers. 

After the stabilization of the hextech, Viktor and Jayce had been given one of the larger labs in the academy. It was meant for practice labs with up to ten students so it was quite large and had its own decontamination suite. There had been some changes made since it was only two men working there instead of a class, but there were still a few showers and sinks for safety reasons. 

Jayce threw his duffle bag onto a bench and started stripping off his clothing, letting it all pile onto the bench next to the duffle.

“Jayce, do you think you could-” 

Jayce stops himself from turning around fully by just a hair and looks over his shoulder.

Viktor is standing in the doorway, his eyes widening in shock. 

“That was fast,” he murmurs, his eyes staying level with Jayce’s upper back

Jayce feels the heat from his ears traveling down to his cheeks. He coughs, awkwardly, wanting to shield himself. Another part of him wants to present himself to Viktor instead. He knows he’s good looking, he’s not arrogant but he’s not stupid either. But he’s not just going to flash Viktor just because the other scientist is eyeing him like he’s something to eat-

Wait.

Viktor is leaning against the doorway now, his eyes at half-mast, his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s looking up at Jayce through long eyelashes, a soft blush to his cheeks.

“Do you think I could what?” Jayce asks, his voice hoarse as he keeps his body tilted away from Viktor’s stare, his neck straining from how far he's looking over his shoulder.

Viktor holds up the fucking sweaty towel in his hand, his grip on it tight enough that Jayce can see the whites of his knuckles.

“There’s a laundry basket in here,” Viktor says, adjusting his stance against the doorway.

“Figured this was the best place for it,” he says, clearing his throat and tossing the towel at Jayce who whirls around to catch it, realizing his mistake at the last minute. He tries to shield himself but he over-corrects and his feet are sliding on the tiles. He lands on his stomach and a whoosh of air rushes out of him.

“Fuck, Jayce are you ok?” He hears Viktor ask and tentative steps of Viktor’s loafers hitting the tile.

“Never fucking better,” Jayce says into the floor, letting out a low groan and turning his head so his face isn’t smushed into the floor anymore.

“You were airborne,” Viktor teases, crouching down carefully by Jayce’s face.

“Just leave me here,” Jayce whines, his knee starting to ache from the fall.

He feels long fingers moving through his short hair and he squints up at Viktor. 

“We can do something eh, simple for dinner. The fish place outside the university?” Viktor asks and Jayce does his best to nod as he melts under Viktor’s touch.

“Go take a shower then, you reek,” Viktor’s nose twitches and he pushes off the floor. It’s clunky and there’s a wince on his face as he relies heavily on his crutch, but today has to be one of the better days that he even entertained the idea of squatting for less than a minute. Jayce waits until Viktor is officially gone before he heaves himself off the floor and glares at the offending sweaty towel. 

He picks it up and tosses it in the laundry hamper and stomps over to the showers. 

He doesn’t even wait for the shower to get lukewarm before he’s under it’s spray, wanting to wash away the embarrassment of that moment.

Viktor’s face flashes behind his eyelids and he rests his forehead against the tiled wall.

The way Viktor had been staring at him had been hungry. He had been looking at Jayce like he had wanted him.

Fuck, that couldn’t be right could it?

He hits his head softly against the tiles, trying to shake that image out of of his head but it’s unmistakable.

Jayce reaches blindly for the soap dispenser and gets a good handful before slathering it all over himself. 

He needs to think of something else, anything else. 

Viktor’s plush bottom lip with the imprint of his slightly crooked canine; eyelashes long and thick over doe shaped eyes, a warm chocolate color; bitable cheeks a pretty pink.

Jayce can’t help the groan that escapes his lips as he feels himself hardening. 

If Jayce had approached Viktor would the other man have stayed put? Would he have let Jayce push his naked body against him, pinning the slighter man against the doorway. Jayce’s hand moves down his stomach to his hardening cock. He gives it a rough stroke, shifting on his feet as the heat in his stomach pools lower and lower.

He growls in frustration and reaches for the shower knobs. He twists the cold all the way to the left and lets out a yelp as icy cold water blasts him directly in the face. It’s pleasant to his burning skin for a few seconds and then he’s dancing in place as he freezes his ass off.

Jayce finishes his shower, properly, with lukewarm water and washes his hair as well.

When he finally dries off and has his sweats on, Viktor’s already sitting on their lumpy couch, a take-out menu in his lap and a pencil tapping against his bottom lip.

“The fish place is closed, apparently there was a robbery and several people were killed,” Viktor says and Jayce stumbles to a stop.

“Oh my god, what? How have we not- oh very funny,” Jayce huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as Viktor lets out a chuckle.

“Relax Jayce, they just aren’t open on Tuesdays,” he says and pats the space on the sofa beside him.

Jayce flops onto it dramatically and lets his shoulder rest against Viktor’s.

“Your sense of humor is lacking,” he says and grabs the takeout menu out of Viktor’s hand.

“Sushi? Seriously Vik,” Jayce scoffs, eyeing the menu with distaste.

Cooked fish was bad enough but raw?

He could already sense the puppy dog eyes from a mile away so he stubbornly reads the item description for one of the foods.

Caviar, cream cheese, eel sauce -

“Please Jayce, you know how the upper city food makes my stomach upset,” Viktor pleads and Jayce rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s why you can plow through enough sweetcakes for a man twice your size,” he says and Viktor nudges his shoulder sharply.

“Jayce,” He whines, and it’s not sexual. It’s not , but Jayce has been finding it harder and harder to not lump his lab partner and carnal thoughts together. Especially after not getting off in the shower.

“Sure, ok,” he huffs and drops the menu in Viktor’s lap, getting off the couch so he can take a moment and breathe.

“They have other food options,” Viktor says, his voice laced with uncertainty. 

Jayce can hear him flipping through the pages of the menu, and Viktor starts to ramble.

“There see! They have noodles and rice, that spicy chicken dish you like. We don’t actually have to get anything from here if you don’t actually want to-”

“Viktor it’s fine,” Jayce says and goes back to sit next to Viktor.

“It doesn’t seem fine,” Viktor says softly and Jayce wants to smack himself in the face.

He’s pretty sure he’s the only one who can get Viktor to second guess himself. It’s not a power he likes to wield, it makes him feel guilty that Viktor seeks his approval.

“I had a long day,” Jayce says as an excuse and Viktor makes an ahh sound.

“Did you meet with councilor Medarda again?” Viktor asks and uses his pencil to start filling out his order. 

“Huh?”

Viktor puts a checkmark next to some salmon sushi before he speaks.

“She’s a very beautiful woman Jayce, it didn’t escape my notice how you looked at her,” he says.

But you’ve missed how I look at you every time, Jayce thinks.

“Viktor, come on,” he says and feels Viktor shrug against his shoulder.

They sit in silence as Viktor hands over the pencil and menu to Jayce. He flips to the back to the cooked food options that he can stomach. He knows sushi is the closest thing Piltover has to what Zaun eats but he doesn’t like fish. Raw especially makes his mouth pucker and he wants to gag it up. He’s eaten it before to humor Viktor but Viktor put a stop to that once he realized just how badly Jayce disliked the food. They only got fish or sushi when Viktor was really craving it, and the place had other foods Jayce could get.

He scratches haphazardly at the box next to the spicy teriyaki chicken and ponders over rice or noodles when Viktor speaks, breaking the silence.

“Do you find her beautiful?”

Jayce tenses and stares intensely at the menu.

“Do you?” he asks, tapping the rice and the noodle option, back and forth, hesitating on which one to go for.

“As much as anyone else,” Viktor says, his answer hesitant.

Jayce isn’t expecting that and he looks up from the menu finally to look at Viktor.

“So that’s a yes then?” Jayce asks and can’t help but let disappointment settle in his chest. Which is hypocritical of him seeing as he’s had dreams about Mel.

“Eh…” Viktor trails off and won’t meet Jayce’s eye which makes Jayce feel confused and almost a little hopeful. 

He decides to extend an olive branch, provoked by the earlier moment when Viktor had stared at his naked back.  

“She is really beautiful but she’s not who I’m interested in.”

And fuck that was too much. He doesn’t mean to word it like that and he prays Viktor doesn’t pick up on it but it’s Viktor.

Viktor cocks his head to the side, causing some of his hair to fall in his face and Jayce resists the urge to brush it back. To tuck it neatly behind Viktor’s ear.

“There’s someone you’re interested in now?” he asks, his voice low and rumbly. There’s a look in his eyes that Jayce can’t grasp and he feels a strange tension in the air.

“Um…maybe?” he says, his voice squeaking at the end.

“You haven’t said anything,” Viktor says and there’s a slight hardness in his tone that has Jayce wanting to sink to his knees.

He’s never seen Viktor like this before. 

He should probably be getting annoyed. They’ve known each other for a week, Jayce didn’t owe Viktor anything. If he was actually interested in anyone else it wasn’t like it was Viktor’s business, but Jayce liked this side of Viktor. It was almost like he was jealous.

Viktor’s leaning closer in his space now and Jayce leans back.

He’s aware of the couch digging into his back, of Viktor’s hand resting in between the space between their thighs, his long fingers almost touching Jayce. 

There’s a knock at the door and they both flinch and sit further apart.

“Come in!” Jayce calls, clearing his throat.

Sky stumbles in, a pile of folders in her arms.

“I’m so sorry about this but Heimerdinger wanted me to drop this off before I go home.” She waves the folders at them earnestly and Jayce gets up with a sigh.

Probably more legal shit they needed to sign. 

He takes the folders gently from her and rolls his eyes internally as he reads the first few lines of the top folder.

It is more legal papers. The council sends it to the older yordle and then Jayce and Viktor receive it. Godsforbid either of them actually be involved in the rules and regulations of their own research and invention/

“Um, it is getting late,” Sky says shyly and Jayce looks up at her but her gaze is focused on Viktor.

“Did you have any dinner plans?” she asks Viktor, her tone hopeful.

Jayce feels his blood freeze.

“Actually, he’s coming by my place for dinner,” the lie comes out smoothly and Sky’s eyes widen and she puts up a small smile but Jayce can see she’s disappointed.

“Oh ok, maybe next time?” she asks, and Viktor softly replies, “next time.”

That has her spirits up again and she leaves the room with a cheerful goodbye and that she’ll see them in the morning.

Jayce picks up the menu again and selects the noodles.

“I’ll go and give this to Callisto and they’ll pick-up the order for us-”

“What was that?” Viktor interrupts, his voice deceptively casual.

Jayce clenches the menu tighter in his hand.

“You getting hard of hearing V? I said I’ll go and give-”

“Don’t be obtuse Jayce,” Viktor snaps and he’s standing up now. The crutch stays tucked tightly under his arm as he walks the few steps to stand before Jayce. 

“You just lied to Sky.”

Jayce scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“You don’t want her to think that we live in the lab do you Vik? Like bats? Lab bats,” he chuckles at his own stupid joke but it dies down quickly as Viktor stares up at him.

“Jayce,” Viktor says, his voice low again and Jayce can’t take it.

“I’m going to give this to Callisto!” he says, his words rushed and walks calmly out of the room.

That’s a lie.

He speed-walks, attempting to appear casual but he hears Viktor call out after him and he all but sprints to get out of there. 

His clothes feel tight and he’s getting sweaty again, but he manages to calm down when he gets to Callisto.

They’re standing at their usual booth and accept the takeout menu and charge Jayce’s student account. They say the food will be ready in forty minutes and Jayce keeps a hysterical giggle from escaping.

Forty minutes, there’s no way I can avoid Viktor for that long, he thinks to himself. He lingers outside for the booth, long enough that Callisto is eyeing him weirdly, so he finally leaves and heads to the lab. He realizes he's left the pencil at the booth downstairs but he decides against wasting time to get it, he needs to just face the music.

When he lets himself in, Viktor is waiting.

He pushes Jayce against the doors as they shut with a click. 

Viktor isn’t the strongest, but he’s caught Jayce off guard. He keeps his hand spread flat against Jayce's chest and stares up at him defiantly. 

“Talk. Talis.” 

The words are clipped and harsh. 

“Viktor please,” he says and he doesn’t know what he’s pleading with Viktor not to do.

There’s a line they’re about to cross, Jayce can feel it. They have the potential to be great partners, no matter what kind, but Jayce has been too scared to take that step further. To solidify what direction and what type of partners they will be. 

He wants Viktor as a friend but he also wants him as so much more.

It’s probably insane given their short time together but Jayce is certain of this. He doesn’t half-ass things, he dives head first but he’s been hesitant because he hasn’t been able to get a good read on Viktor. They’re learning each other surprisingly fast but not fast enough for Jayce to know where Viktor stands.

Until today.

Until earlier when Jayce saw his own hunger reflected back at him in Viktor’s eyes. 

“Who are you interested in?” The hand presses harder against his chest and Viktor leans up slightly, making Jayce take some of his weight.

Jayce swallows hard.

“If it’s not Medarda is it…is it Sky?”

Viktor looks unsure now, no longer determined and confident. He blinks rapidly like he’s trying to gather his thoughts and then he’s wincing.

“Oh shit it is Sky isn’t it, Jayce I’m sorry-”

Jayce doesn’t let him finish. He presses his lips harshly against Viktor’s. He wants to be gentle but he misjudges how close they are and his own eagerness.

He knows where Viktor is getting the idea from, he thinks because Jayce lied it was to stop Sky from having dinner with Viktor because Jayce wants Sky. But it’s the opposite. Jayce wants Viktor.

He will always want Viktor.

It seems to click in Viktor’s mind as he lets out a soft moan and he starts kissing Jayce back. 

His lips are slightly chapped and have grooves where he’s bitten the skin off, but there’s soft patches too and the juxtaposition is driving Jayce wild.

He breathes in heavily through his nose, stubbornly not wanting to take his lips off of Viktor’s now that he has him like this.

The hand on Jayce’s chest closes around the fabric of his sweatshirt, holding on for dear life it seems. He hears the distinct ting of the metal crutch hitting the floor and then Viktor’s body weight is leaning fully on him, his other arm snaking up to cup the back of Jayce’s head, a pillow between the door and Jayce’s head. 

Jayce holds Viktor around his waist to support him, one hand staying firmly locked around the man while the other dips down to rest partially on Viktor’s ass.

Jayce licks at Viktor’s lips, pleadingly.

Viktor moans again, pressing closer and opens his mouth.

He tastes sweet and bitter. Like black tea and honey, coffee and cream. Jayce doesn’t know if it’s just his taste or whether there’s a mug of sweetmilk lying around somewhere but he doesn’t care. He wants more, no, needs more. 

He let’s his tongue take over. It’s like he’s a desperate man searching for a drop of water in the middle of the desert. His tongue nudges at Viktor’s, wanting a response. When Viktor hesitantly greets Jayce’s tongue with his own Jayce let’s out a low moan. He suckles at Viktor’s tongue until they both pull apart. 

They’re panting heavily, their chests raising and falling together.

Viktor has drool in the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, Jayce leans in and laps it up.

Viktor lets out a whine and Jayce feels heat rush straight to his dick. 

“Not…Sky then,” Viktor huffs out, letting his hands move to Jayce’s shoulders.

“Not Sky. Only you,” Jayce says and Viktor smiles so wide that Jayce feels like he’s staring at the sun. 

He leans forward and nips lightly at the mole above Viktor’s lip just because he can .

Viktor let’s out a disbelieving laugh that’s mixed with amusement.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” he practically purrs, his slender hand coming up to cradle Jayce’s cheek. 

Jayce shyly looks away and Viktor adjusts his hold so he can grab part of Jayce’s chin and make him look back at Viktor.

“I’ve seen you looking at me, hard not to with all the time we’ve spent together. You’re not subtle Mr. Talis,” Viktor says, pulling Jayce in for another kiss.

So he has noticed, Jayce thinks, feeling giddy. 

This one is slower, more dragged out, but it doesn’t lack any of the heat or passion of their earlier kiss. Jayce tightens his grip around Viktor and starts to walk them back towards where the couch is.

“How could I not look at you,” Jayce mumbles against Viktor’s lips.

It’s a little awkward with Jayce having to support most of Viktor’s weight and he’s not exactly paying attention to where he’s walking, he’s just aiming for the general idea of where he thinks the couch is.

Viktor let’s out an oomph as they walk straight into a table. 

“Maybe open your eyes puppy,” Viktor says and gently taps Jayce’s cheek. Jayce sheepishly blinks them open and carefully walks them over to the couch.

He lays Viktor down, making sure his bad leg is stretched out on the couch. He kneels in between Viktor’s legs and Viktor’s good leg hooks around his waist as he settles down over Viktor. He uses one elbow and forearm to prop himself up, his hand by Viktor’s head, as the other hand wraps around Viktor’s arm.

“Good boy,” Viktor whispers, pushing up his pelvis to meet Jayce’s.

Jayce whines, hiding his face in Viktor’s neck as the slender man wraps an arm around Jayce’s back to bring their bodies closer together. 

“See how you make me feel Jayce? Feel how hard I am?” Viktor says harshly into his ear as he thrusts up again.

Jayce nods fast, attaching his lips to Viktor’s exposed neck. 

Viktor shudders under him and tilts his head up so more of his neck is available for Jayce.

Jayce is greedy now that he can touch Viktor. He sucks and licks, trying to leave as many marks as possible. He discovers another mole, one hidden usually by Viktor’s high collars and cravat. He’s not wearing a cravat today and his top button is undone so Jayce has easy access. He nips at the mole, giving it the same treatment as the one on his partner's cheek.

“Gotta get this off of you,” he mutters, slipping the hand not supporting him down between their bodies so he can untuck Viktor’s shirt out of his pants.

“Impatient,” Viktor says with amusement, turning his head to kiss Jayce’s knuckles.

“You have to remove my vest first,” he says and raises an eyebrow when Jayce pauses his frustrated searching for skin under Viktor’s white button-up.

“Um, right,” he says and shakily pulls away from Viktor, sitting back on his heels. He doesn’t want to be away from Viktor for too long but he needs their clothes off faster. He starts unbuttoning Viktor’s vest and sneaks glances up at the shorter man.

Viktor is looking up at him, his mouth slightly parted and his cheeks flushed. His hair spreads out against the arm of the couch and some shorter strands have fallen forward, just shy of covering his eyes.

Jayce reaches up and brushes them away, letting out a sigh when Viktor hums contently and nuzzles into Jayce’s touch. 

“Look at you,” Jayce whispers and Viktor’s eyes flash in the dim lighting of the lab.

“You can do more than that,” Viktor says earnestly.

He tilts his head up and takes Jayce’s thumb into his mouth.

Jayce blanks out, his other hand clenching down on Viktor’s vest as he watches Viktor start to suck on his thumb.

Viktor’s mouth is a furnace, his tongue soft and silky, catching on the rough pad of Jayce’s thumb. 

Jayce is pretty sure all his blood has gone to his dick as he watches Viktor’s cheeks hollow out, his eyes fluttering, and he starts to feel light-headed.

Viktor pulls off with a pop , looking utterly blissed out. 

“Hurry up,” he commands. It’s soft but definitely an order and Jayce goes back to the last two vest buttons. He helps Viktor wiggle out of the vest and then practically rips Viktor out of his button-up, his patience running thin. 

He’s covered in moles.

Jayce really needs to figure out what his obsession is with the man's moles but he’ll deal with that later. He takes off his own sweatshirt and preens at how Viktor looks at him. It seems like Viktor can’t settle on where to look for long, his eyes bouncing from Jayce’s pecs, to his arms, to his stomach.

There he feels a little self-conscious and struggles to not cover himself.

He’s fairly muscled, his years in the forge making his body chiseled but he’s always had a layer of soft fat that doesn’t seem to go away. No one’s ever complained about his stomach before and it’s not like he’s fat, but the v of his hips are not flat and he is able to pinch his stomach and hold some of it in his fingers.

Viktor on the other hand is slender and lithe. His arms have some muscle built up from having to support himself and he’s not underweight but Jayce can see the shape of his ribs. He shifts under Jayce’s gaze and Jayce tracks the movements of his muscles, the flex of his stomach and the soft shudder that wracks his body.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day?” Viktor asks. He’s not looking at Jayce now, instead looking at the back of the couch where his fingers are twisting and pulling at a string that’s come undone from the backing.

He sounds defensive and Jayce hurries to remedy the doubt that seems to have crept up between them.

“I can’t help it V. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you, and now you’re here and your m-mine.”

He can’t help but stutter over his words because is Viktor really his? Could Viktor possibly crave him as much as Jayce wants him to? Call him a helpless romantic but when he’s pictured himself in a relationship he wants it all; he wants to walk down the streets with Viktor’s hand in his. He wants to argue about how hot or cold they need to keep their bedroom. He wants to bring him over to Caitlyn’s and have a family dinner, he wants Viktor to meet his mother and have her fuss over him. He wants to know every crack and crevice in Viktor’s body and his mind. He wants to be known too. He wants the knowing looks they’re already sharing to blossom fully. Viktor already knows his coffee order and he’s already cataloged every micro expression Viktor has when he’s irritated or annoyed.

Something must show on his face because Viktor’s face softens and he sits up, unraveling his leg from around Jayce. 

He pushes at Jayce until he has him sitting how he wants and then he sits down on his lap.

Jayce tries to protest but Viktor waves him off.

“If my leg starts bothering me I’ll let you know,” he says firmly and cups Jayce’s cheeks in his slender hands.

“We should talk about this, what this means for us,” he says, removing one hand so he can motion between them and then puts it back.

Jayce swallows, his head a little foggy with how their dicks are pressed against each other even closer than before. Viktor seems to sense this and moves his hips back a little but not too far because Jayce’s hands quickly grab onto his hips to keep him there.

It’s torture but he knows he’ll lose his mind even more if Viktor moves too far away.

“I think I’ve done most of the talking so far,” Jayce says, squeezing Viktor’s hips.

Viktor sighs and drops his hands from Jayce’s cheeks. They fall into their laps and Viktor starts playing with the strings of Jayce’s sweatpants, keeping a careful distance from Jayce’s straining cock.

His knuckles keep brushing against Jayce’s stomach though and he’s having a hard time concentrating.

“Vitya, ” he pleads, the name falling out from his lips and Viktor inhales harshly.

“I will not be some…notch on a bedpost yes? I believe that’s the saying,” Viktor says, his nose scrunching in distaste and Jayce remembers how thrilled Viktor had been when he’d learned about ‘crank it’. He thinks about those other students and the lockers he’s punched, overhearing how they talk about his partner, like he’s an object and not a person.

“I don’t believe you’re like that, you don’t think of me as some fetish, some new thing to fuck and add to a tally of life experiences,” Viktor snarls out and Jayce knows the anger isn’t directed towards him, it’s towards the whispers he must’ve heard ever since he stepped foot into the academy.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t still fall into a one night stand category,” he says, and Jayce squeezes his hips encouragingly when it looks like he’s not done speaking but he’s been silent for a minute.

“If we do this, we can’t pretend this never happened. I can’t pretend.” Viktor stresses, his hands moving from the strings to rest firmly against Jayce’s stomach. He jolts at the coolness meeting his heated flesh and Viktor waits, the question unspoken but hanging in the air.

But it’s not even a question because now that Jayce has him, he’s never letting go.

Even if one day Viktor turns into some mad scientist or decides to start wearing dresses, Jayce would follow him into eternity.

His mind halts on the image of Viktor in a dress, one of the clingy ones that councilor Medarda wears that show off her legs…

Viktor clears his throat and Jayce comes back to reality, realizing his nails are digging into Viktor’s hips.

“That’s a lot of thinking going on in that pretty head of yours Jayce,” Viktor says, pointedly looking at Jayce’s hands on his hips. 

He eases his grip, apologizing.

“I can be intense,” he starts out and Viktor gives him a ‘yeah-duh’ look and he scrambles to get the rest of the words out. “When I like someone I give them my all. My mom says I wear my heart on my sleeve, so all this that we’re doing together, it’s because I want all of you Viktor, and I want you to have all of me .”” Viktor looks at him like a deer in headlights, like he’s stunned by the possibility.

That Jayce could want him so badly that it hurts.

“I’m obsessed with you V. You say you’ve seen me watching you in the lab yet you look surprised,” Jayce says gently and Viktor leans forward, digging his hands into Jayce’s stomach. He looks like a bird, studying its prey. He’s got a calculated look on his face like he’s analyzing Jayce.

Jayce can’t resist and leans up to meet him, licking at his nose. 

Viktor sputters as Jayce’s tongue traces over the curves of his aquiline nose.

“You really are like a fucking puppy,” Viktor says, swatting Jayce’s face away so he can rub the saliva off his nose.

Jayce sits back feeling proud of himself. That’s two fantasies he’s completed in the short amount of time they’ve been together. Which reminds him, the food.

“We have about twenty more minutes,” he says, looking at the clock on the wall behind Viktor, bouncing his knee so Viktor will pay attention to him again. Viktor slides down so their crotches are pressed against each other again, as Jayce’s leg dislodges him from where he was sitting. Jayce drums his fingers against Viktor’s hips and looks at him adoringly.

“I want our first time to be in bed,” he says shyly and Viktor’s smile is perfect. Crooked and small but still one of the best things Jayce has seen. Second only to the Arcane.

“I’m sure there are other…activities we can familiarize ourselves with,” Viktor says cheekily, the heel of his palm moving from his stomach to his cock, Viktor’s touch sending a bolt of pleasure through Jayce.

“Yeah. Definitely,” he pants out and surges forward to kiss Viktor again.

Jayce finds himself losing himself in the kiss again, the world around them turning sluggish. He tries to keep his touch light but Viktor protests at every turn, shoving his lips harder against Jayce’s, grabbing Jayce’s larger hands and pressing them into his waist.

Jayce knows Viktor’s not a doll and would hate to be treated as such, but Jayce can’t help it. 

Viktor huffs in frustration, momentarily breaking their kiss when Jayce once again meets Viktor’s thrust but with a subdued passion. It’s taking everything in him not to just toss Viktor over one shoulder and have him against one of the lab tables or the workbench. 

“Jayce,” Viktor says quietly, a warning in his tone. 

Jayce can sense where this is going and he sighs and wraps his hand around the entire circumference of Viktor’s wrist.

“I know I won’t break you V but don’t you want me to be gentle?” he asks. Maybe it’s only because he’s been with girls before and there were certain expectations with how rough he could be. He liked it too, being gentle with them and getting to cradle them and draw low moans from their throats. The pressure just shy of too hard only when he started rubbing circles into their heat.

But maybe it needed to be different with Viktor.

“How about you tell me what to do,” he says eagerly, before Viktor can say anything.

Viktor looks at him, considering what he’s said.

“You want me…in control.” He says it as a statement and not a question but Jayce nods.

“Sex is a learning curve and I’ve always been a fast learner,” Jayce teases, flushing when he sees how interested Viktor looks now.

“We can work with that,” Viktor says softly and then starts to get up, pulling a whine from Jayce.

“Ah-ah-ah,” He tuts, shaking a finger at Jayce. 

“If I’m in control of this then we’re putting me fully in control. If you don’t like something, tap my arm three times, or if you’re able to speak then say…” Viktor trails off looking at Jayce expectantly.

Jayce’s head is already in the clouds at the implications of what Viktor is suggesting. His partner seems more confident now, like he’s slipping into a role Jayce only really sees when he’s deep in the throes of his work. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he looks up at Viktor.

“A safe word Jayce,” Viktor prods gently.

“Um right…” Jayce says as his mind rushes a mile a minute.

Fuck he needs a safe word? Ok something cool, something not embarrassing

“Sushi,” he says and then stares at his hands in abject horror.

Sushi is what he’s going with?!

“At least it’s not your own name,” Viktor smirks, standing in between Jayce’s spread legs and tilting his chin up with a finger. “That’d be even more egotistical than signing every page in your notebook.”

Jayce huffs, willing the urge to stomp his foot, like a child, to go away. 

“It was just one notebook,” he pouts.

Viktor raises an eyebrow.

“Ok a few of them and really it’s smart ok. Especially after we’ve created the hextech together I mean, anyone could have found my notes and done who knows what with them,” he says defensively.

“Of course baby,” Viktor says, brushing his hand through Jayce’s hair.

There’s a curl of something in Jayce’s stomach as he realizes there’s no mocking in Viktor’s tone. It’s not sarcastic or teasing, he’s just being comforting.

“Right well…what do you want me to do?” he asks, his throat feeling thick like he’s about to cry.

“You want to be such a good boy for me don’t you,” Viktor says, the hand leaving Jayce’s hair to cradle his jaw.

“Yes,” Jayce breathes out, surprised he isn’t stammering.

“You always make sure I’m taken care of, what’s one more chance for you to do the same here hmm? Do you want to make me feel good Jayce?”

Jayce nods and there’s now a finger prodding at his lower lip. He opens his mouth to let the finger in but it barely goes in, staying teasingly just out of reach, barely pressing against his teeth.

“Take off your pants,” Viktor says and steps away, giving Jayce more than enough space.

He hurriedly unties the strings to his sweatpants before realizing he needs to take his boots off. He toes them off with haste and shimmies the pants down, cantering his hips upward with a grunt so they’ll slide off faster. He leans over to pull off his socks and then sits there in just his underwear. His fingers rest on the waistband but Viktor makes a soft noise and Jayce looks up.

“Stand up.”

Jayce does so, trying not to seem too eager. He’s aware of how hard his cock is straining in his briefs, leaving not much to the imagination. 

Viktor steps up to him and trails a finger over his clothed cock. He inhales sharply and tries not to buck under Viktor’s wandering fingertips.

“Look how hard you are already,” Viktor says, the palm of his hand working gently against Jayce’s cock. He can feel it getting heavier, the ache getting stronger. If Viktor keeps this up Jayce fears he’s going to cum in his underwear like he’s a teenager all over again. He tries to see how hard Viktor is but Viktor’s pants are a darker brown than his and he can’t really discern the shape really well. 

“Can I touch you?” Jayce asks and Viktor shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he says completely composed and Jayce wonders how he can be so calm right now while Jayce is short-circuiting like faulty wiring. The hand on his cock slides upwards to the waistband of his briefs and Viktor slowly pulls them down, revealing red and angry lines where the waistband has dug into his skin.

Viktor hisses in sympathy, rubbing at the sore spots with such tenderness the urge to cry is back again.

“I’m getting you a new pair,” he says though it sounds more like he’s talking to himself out loud rather than to Jayce. 

He motions for Jayce to pull his underwear down the rest of the way and he wastes no time doing so.

He’s now completely bare in front of his Viktor.

It’s oddly thrilling to be looked at like this. Normally he’s the one undressing the women in front of him, taking time to delicately undo their corsets and peel away their lacey underwear. But now he’s the one undressed and standing before Viktor. He puffs up his chest, can’t help but pose a little.

Viktor smiles, noticing what he’s doing and exhales softly.

“My man of progress,” he says softly. 

Jayce’s dick twitches a little and he groans, which makes Viktor take that final step to press himself against Jayce.

Jayce’s hands move of their own accord, trying to grab the fabric of Viktor’s pants so he can pull them off, but Viktor shakes his head softly and grabs both of Jayce’s wrists in each hand.

Jayce knows he can change their positions easily. Even if Viktor tried to put force on his grip, years of the forge and Jayce’s own size would easily overpower Viktor. But Jayce lets him maneuver his arms so they hang at his side. Their chests rise and fall together and Viktor releases Jayce’s arms, giving an unspoken command for Jayce not to move.

He moves his hands slowly across Jayce’s torso. His fingers slide over collarbones and flex over Jayce’s pecs. He’s like a canvas, Viktor’s fingers the paintbrush. Viktor takes his time, learning every curve and dip of Jayce’s exposed chest. His fingers linger in space between Jayce’s chest and stomach, his diaphragm, and then his left hand lays flat there while the right continues its tortuous path. His body shivers and Viktor’s left hand drifts down to Jayce’s stomach.

Jayce feels self-conscious again with the attention Viktor is focusing on his stomach. His cock is leaking precum, looking red and eager for Viktor to pay it attention where it curves up, but Viktor pays it no mind. 

The right hand joins its partner on Jayce’s stomach and Viktor gives Jayce’s stomach a soft squeeze and Jayce lets out a squeak.

“Viktor,” he admonishes, but Viktor pays no heed to his harsher tone, leaning up to nip his lower lip.

“I plan to worship all of you Jayce, that’s what will please me I’ve decided,” he says, his breath hot against Jayce’s mouth.

“And for me to do that I need to appreciate all of you, will you let me do that? You want to be good for me don’t you?” he says hotly and starts kissing Jayce in earnest. 

A whine, high-pitched and needy is pulled out of Jayce’s chest and escapes his mouth without thought. He didn’t think he could make those sounds.

Viktor’s cool skin is starting to get warmer, but nothing can match the burning Jayce is feeling from within. 

He’s being led back to the couch, the back of his calves hitting the low couch making him stumble. He lands on his ass and he takes a minute to catch his breath as Viktor stands above him. 

The lab lighting doesn’t do him justice but he’s still gorgeous. His hair frames his red face, his upper body getting a light flush as well. There’s a mark on his neck from where Jayce had sucked and he’s pleased with himself. He wants to mark Viktor more.

“Hand me that pillow,” Viktor commands, pointing to a square plush purple one. Jayce hastily grabs it and offers it up.

Viktor puts it down at Jayce’s feet and carefully kneels on it.

Jayce has a brief moment to wonder where Viktor’s crutch is, in case he needs it anytime soon, but then Viktor’s hands are on his ankles and slowly trailing upwards in deep caress and he loses his senses again.

Viktor doesn’t so much dig into his legs as almost caress them with a reverence Jayce never would’ve expected.

Jayce can’t really see his face but he can for sure feel him, his nose dragging along Jayce’s calf, his mouth leaving the barest of kisses; butterfly kisses. His thumbs rub mirroring circles on Jayce’s ankle bones between each kiss. His hair is all Jayce can see until he starts to move upwards.

“Such a pretty boy, my Jayce,” Viktor purrs, his accent sounding thicker to Jayce’s ears. When he reaches Jayce’s knees he gives them two soft kisses on each one. He taps the inside of Jayce’s left knee and Jayce hesitates before lifting it. Viktor presses in closer, moving Jayce’s left leg up further so it hooks over his shoulder. He starts leaving open mouthed kisses against the soft skin of Jayce’s inner thigh. Starting at the top of the thigh and working his way up.

Jayce feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He’s starting to pant again, groaning with each gentle lick Viktor administers to his inner thigh. Viktor squeezes his right knee, the fingers actually digging in this time as he bites down on Jayce’s inner thigh.

Jayce lets out a yelp and shudders. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he wants them on Viktor so badly. They are basically one with the couch cushions with how hard he’s clenching them, gripping them like a lifeline as Viktor licks at the bite, soothing it.

He taps the right inner knee and Jayce raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?” he pants out and Viktor looks up at him with dark brown eyes, the pupils almost taking up the entire irises.

“Move Jayce,” he says and as soon as Jayce has his other leg over his shoulder he moves swiftly, attaching his lips and giving the right inner thigh the same treatment as the left. His hands hold onto the outer sides of Jayce’s thighs, keeping them spread open to his liking.

It could’ve been hours, or it could have been minutes, but Jayce loses track of time until he is brought back to awareness by Viktor nuzzling his nose deep into the space where his pelvis and leg connect. He was right there, but he expertly avoids touching Jayce’s cock, only his hair brushing against the underside making Jayce tremble and grab the cushions harder. 

“Please,” he whimpers, not knowing what he’s asking for.

Viktor huffs and gently kisses the spot before leaning up more so he can rest his chin on Jayce’s stomach.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Viktor whispers, his gaze adoring.

Jayce bites his lip and Viktor watches the motion with an intensity that has Jayce almost cumming on the spot.

Viktor trades bites and kisses across the supple flesh of Jayce’s stomach, paying the most attention to the rolls that have formed because of how Jayce is sitting. His nose dips into every crevice.

He pauses his ministrations, flinching and trying to hide it by resuming his kisses but Jayce never misses any of Viktor’s motions, he’s attuned to them. He could also feel the flex of Viktor’s hands on his thighs.

“What’s wrong? Your leg?” he asks, licking his dry lips.

He’s guessed right judging by how irritated Viktor looks.

“It seems I cannot be granted this simple pleasure with my…imperfection reminding me of itself,” he hisses out, wincing and letting go of Jayce’s thigh so he can massage his own leg.

“ Vitya ,” Jayce says, carefully bringing his legs down. Viktor's attention snaps to him but he looks defeated. 

“I’m sorry,” he says bitterly and Jayce releases his hold on the cushions, flexing his fingers. It hurts from how long they’ve been curled up and the strength at which they were holding on to the cushions, but he pushes that pain aside. He reaches out for Viktor, resting one hand on his shoulder and the other goes to cradle Viktor’s cheek.

“It’s not an imperfection,” he says harshly, stroking the sharp line of Viktor’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“You have no imperfections in my eyes Viktor.”

Viktor leans in to his touch, turning his face to press a fleeting kiss to Jayce’s palm.

“I wish I had your confidence,” he says and uses Jayce’s knees to push himself up. 

He stands there for a moment seemingly lost in thought. Jayce is about to call to him when hungry eyes find him and he’s at a loss for words.

“Jayce, you trust me, yes?” Viktor asks and Jayce nods eagerly.

“With everything.”

There’s that flash of surprise on Viktor’s face and then it’s gone.

“Scooch over then,” he says, flapping his hands at Jayce until Jayce makes room on the couch.

Viktor hobbles over a few steps closer to the couch and sits down carefully. He quickly removes his shoes and socks and unbuttons his pants. With a grimace he gets them off.

Jayce can see more moles trailing down the expanse of Viktor’s legs. His bad leg looks a little thinner than his good one but there’s nothing else to distinguish the two. 

He takes off his underwear too.

Jayce has never found a cock nice to look at. Not that he makes a regular habit of looking at any besides his own, but when he was younger he did some exploration of himself. He may have only had experience with girls, but he had magazines still stashed under his bed of naked men.

Caitlyn had been the one to get it for him, though she never revealed her source. It was in their late teens that Caitlyn had confessed to him that she didn’t like men, after another awful male suitor her parents had arranged for her to meet.

Jayce had never really put much thought into his own sexuality. He liked girls, had slept with some already by that time, and no man had ever turned his head but he took it anyways. For science was his excuse.

It lay untouched for a long while, before Jayce casually decided to browse it. He could see some attractiveness in some of the naked males but nothing really gripped his attention until one particular slender male. Jayce still remembered the photo, the man draped suggestively over a chaise lounge, his skin dark and glistening, his cock in one hand while the other tugged at his collared shirt - the only thing he was wearing.

That was the first time Jayce jacked off to a man.

After that discovery, he still leaned more towards women, but every now and then he’d try to capture a guy's attention but he always failed miserably.

Caitlyn said it’s because he exudes a straight aura, whatever that means.

But it’s never been a man’s cock that has drawn him to a man, and he never really understood the allure with some of the girls he slept with, their mouths eager to taste him, but now.

Well now he had an inclination of what it was all about.

Viktor’s cock looked beautiful to him, the urge to touch and taste growing stronger the longer he looked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the elegant curve, the color, the precum that leaks from Viktor’s tip and drips down the base as Viktor lays himself down on the couch, oblivious to Jayce’s stare. 

“Alright Jayce, I need you to sit on my chest,” Viktor says and Jayce coughs.

“Um..you want me to…huh?” he asks and looks at Viktor in disbelief.

“Sit on my chest. This is the most comfortable position for me right now I’m afraid, so I’ll need you over here so I can suck your dick,” he says, patting his chest like an owner calling their dog to them.

“I’m not sitting on your chest ,” Jayce hisses, and Viktor has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“You said you trusted me, yes?”

“Well of course but-”

“Then why aren’t you trusting me to know my limits? We’re running out of time Talis,” Viktor says, jerking his head in the direction of the clock and Jayce gives up.

“Fine, fine, but if my big ass crushes you it’s your fault,” he grumbles. He slowly crawls on all fours, hovering over Viktor and hesitating for a second before he sits back, his knees on either side of Viktor’s chest. He doesn’t lower down though, his nerves getting the best of him.

Viktor’s hands snake around and grab Jayce’s ass, giving both of his cheeks a firm caress.

“Your ass is rather nice,” Viktor says, giving one a squeeze.

“I’m not going to break,” Viktor says after Jayce still hasn’t sat down.

“I’m just, uhh, getting more comfortable,” Jayce lies, making a show of shifting on his knees, thankful that even though the couch is relatively old and shitty, it's quite wide and soft. There’s no added stress to Viktor’s back and they’re not at threat of falling off.

“ Sit ,” Viktor barks out, not believing his bullshit.

Jayce sits. 

Viktor lets out an oomph and Jayce immediately tries to get back up but Viktor holds him by the ass, his nails digging in.

“See I told you,” Jayce complains, feeling guilty as Viktor looks up at him with a slightly pained expression. He manages to get off of Viktor, hovering once more.

“That’s because you just dropped on me, you overeager puppy.” 

Jayce flushes. 

“Now, slowly, sit down,” Viktor says patiently, guiding Jayce with his hands.

Jayce’s cock is hovering right by Viktor’s lips and he swears he can feel Viktor’s heart pounding under his ass.

“Look at this, all just for me,” Viktor says, his breath hitting Jayce’s cock, making it harder than he thought possible.

“ Vitya, please,” Jayce pleads, starting to get fed up. 

“Say that again,” Viktor demands and Jayce is helpless to comply.

“Vitya, please for the love of everything, suck my fucking cock right now or-” his words are choked off by Viktor almost inhaling him into his mouth.

His lips pull off before Jayce can even register what’s happened.

“Whose in charge here Jayce?” Viktor says, his dark eyes demanding under his long lashes.

“You are,” Jayce whines and presses his finger against the mole under Viktor’s eyes.

“And whose setting the pace?” Viktor asks, allowing Jayce to trace around his mole.

“You,” Jayce says breathlessly.

“Remember that Jayce. I know you’d look so pretty begging for me, but that’s for later, so don’t give me a reason to make you beg sooner,” Viktor warns before his mouth is engulfing Jayce’s cock again.

Viktor’s mouth is hot . It’s just like when his thumb was inside Viktor’s mouth but his cock is more sensitive and the sensations all feel new. It’s velvety soft in there and Viktor’s tongue is exploring with tentative licks and prods. He’s careful off his teeth, barely grazing them as he takes Jayce in deeper.

The heat in Jayce’s stomach starts coiling and more precum comes out. He knows he’s not going to last long like this. It’s embarrassing and he tries to warn Viktor but he doesn’t know if he should use the safe word or just tell Viktor to release him.

Viktor does something with his mouth, a mixture of tongue and teeth that has Jayce hearing the blood rushing in his ears. He moans out some gibberish words, managing to get out a ‘I’m close’ and ‘I’m going to cum’.

This seems to encourage Viktor and he doesn’t pull off, instead he’s sucking with abandon, his cheeks hollowing more and Jayce can’t hold it in. Not with Viktor sucking him off like he’s the sweetest treat in all of Piltover.

He cums with a shout, the world going black and filled with stars as he cums into Viktor’s mouth, only vaguely aware of Viktor’s hands clamping onto his sides, his fingers sinking into the fat of his love handles.

“Fuck,” he shudders and watches through half-lidded eyes as Viktor pulls off of his cock, giving the tip a gentle kiss.

“You did so good for me Jayce, you were wonderful,” Viktor purrs.

Jayce slides off of Viktor and nudges the other scientist until he’s trapped between the couch and Jayce.

“What about you?” Jayce asks, trailing a finger up and down Viktor’s side and ribs.

He looks down between them and is shocked to see Viktor is flacid.

“I came with you,” Viktor says, looking at Jayce smugley. 

Jayce kisses him desperately, not minding the taste of his seed mingling with the taste of Viktor.

He wants to lay here forever, his face pressed against Viktor’s cheek, his body draped over the slender man, but there’s a throat clearing and Viktor nudges him gently with his shoulder.

“The food will be here shortly,” he says and Jayce sighs heavily.

“I forgot about that,” he confesses and Viktor laughs.

He feels Viktor’s laugh reverberate through his whole body and he smiles, brushing sweaty hair off of Viktor’s forehead and gives a kiss to each of the moles on Viktor’s face.

“We still have time to clean ourselves in the bathroom,” Viktor says and Jayce reluctantly rolls away and hops off the couch. Viktor barely has time to sit up before Jayce is scooping him up in his arms, holding him bridal style.

“Jayce,” Viktor scolds.

“You took care of me, let me take care of you. Didn't you say that's what I like to do?” Jayce asks, easily carrying him and navigating around the lab to the showers.

He sets Viktor down gently onto a bench and grabs a clean towel, soaking it in the sink before taking the time to gently wipe away any of Viktor’s cum from Viktor’s body. He wipes himself off with a new towel as well, feeling sticky from the sweat their coupling had produced. 

“Are you going to carry me back?” Viktor asks, not seriously, as Jayce throws their towels in the hamper.

Jayce raises an eyebrow and easily has an armful of a spluttering Viktor in his arms again. 

“You are being ridiculous!”

Viktor’s face is a stunning shade of pink and Jayce kisses him, savoring the feeling of his lips before bringing them back into the main room.

He lets Viktor down so they can get dressed, sneaking glances at each other.

There’s a knock on the door just as Jayce smooths down his hair and Viktor goes over to the door, crutch secured under his arm once more.

Callisto is at the door as Viktor swings it open. They eye the scientists with disinterest and hand over the large bag of food. Viktor thanks them and closes the door with his shoulder.

“Great timing, I’m starving,” Jayce says and walks over to Viktor to take the bag from him.

“We have to fill you up with something for now until I can later,” Viktor says, patting Jayce’s stomach and walking around him in the direction of their mini fridge.

Jayce is frozen in place, his mind processing what Viktor just said and he almost drops their food.

His cock gives a twitch of interest, images of Viktor fucking into him long and slow fill his head and he can't help the sound that slips from his mouth.

“Jayce,” Viktor says warningly, looking over his shoulder as he stoops to dig in the fridge for drinks. “Food first, the rest later. ”

Later, there’s going to be a later, Jayce’s mind does a dance of happiness and he rushes over to start spreading the food on the table.

There’s plenty of sushi for Viktor to focus on and Jayce catches himself staring at Viktor’s lips as he slurps up some sashimi. He hurriedly shovels the chicken into his mouth. Normally he’d like to savor the food, talk to Viktor about their lab work or some gossip he’s heard, but he’s impatient. The promise of what Viktor is going to do to him is exhilarating.

“Relax puppy,” Viktor reaches across the lab table to squeeze Jayce’s forearm.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jayce flushes and chews his food a little bit slower.

Viktor starts talking about the Kiramman gardens, expressing curiosity in what grew there. The conversation morphs into Jayce telling Viktor about the misadventures Caitlyn and he shared. He talks about how at twelve they had been racing each other. They’d been too close to the ponds and Caitlyn had elbowed him, trying to get him to slow down. The momentum had sent Jayce flying and he’d grabbed onto her by instinct, taking her down with him. They had both fallen in, getting soaked instantly. 

Viktor laughed with his whole body, tilting his head back and his shoulders shaking.

Jayce doesn’t think it’s that funny, but he loves watching Viktor laugh. He rests his elbow on the table and props his chin in his hand, content to watch Viktor. 

Viktor shares his own stories of growing up in the undercity in return. 

“I’d have liked to have seen the boat you made,” Jayce says and Viktor looks at him surprised.

“It wasn’t anything special,” he says shyly.

And there’s that uncertainty in Viktor again that Jayce wishes would go away. He’s usually so confident. He’s professor Heimerdinger’s assistant afterall, that’s not a position the yordle just gives out on a whim, but something like designing a mechanical boat as a toy in his childhood trips Viktor up. Kids around that age would still be struggling to fold paper to make airplanes - Jayce knows this from experience, a childhood annoyance of never being able to fold the lines just right to get them to go far.

“Can you imagine it? I would’ve been able to get you scraps from my family’s forge and you could’ve made us an army of boats,” Jayce says, excitement getting the best of him and Viktor looks a little less shy now. 

“I think I would’ve appreciated that,” he says softly, and returns his attention back to his sushi.

They eat the rest of their meal in companionable silence. They sort out their leftovers and clear the table. Jayce throws everything away while Viktor puts their containers in the fridge.

Jayce stands, uncertain now as he watches Viktor close the fridge.

“Um…your place or mine?” he asks, his usual suaveness is gone.

“My place is closer,” Viktor says and goes to gather his things. Once he’s loaded with his notebooks and his bag, they both wordlessly leave the lab.

They take the elevator down and Jayce sneaks glances at Viktor the entire time.

“Are you nervous?” Viktor asks and Jayce jumps at getting caught.

“A little,” he confesses and Viktor shuffles his papers so he has a hand free. He reaches down and intertwines his fingers with Jayce’s, gripping firmly. 

“It’s just me,” he says and that’s just it.

It’s Viktor. It’s finally happening and it’s Viktor.

The touch helps ground Jayce but not that much.

They walk the streets of Piltover holding hands. Jayce is now holding Viktor’s notebooks and carrying his bag, there was no feasible way Viktor would be able to hold his crutch, his belongings, and Jayce’s hand while walking.

It’s late enough that not many people are out but it’s not like Jayce wants to hide away this simple affection. Hell, he wants to race down the streets with Viktor in his arms, shouting to everyone how lucky he is.

He settles for walking as close to Viktor as he can, which earns an annoyed and amused noise from Viktor as he keeps messing up the scientist's strides.

“Do I need to tell you to heel,” Viktor mutters and Jayce stumbles. He keeps to himself after that, careful not to walk into Viktor again, feeling ashamed.

He’s done it to Caitlyn before and his mother and well, anyone he’s close with while they’re walking. He gravitates towards their space and suddenly they’re walking further to the side than where they started and he hasn’t even realized it. Caitlyn usually shoves him and his mother gently reminds him of his space but he and Viktor haven’t ever walked together for long stretches of time like this one, so it hasn’t happened. Or at least it didn’t happen for long enough for Viktor to comment on it.

Viktor sighs and releases Jayce’s hand. 

Jayce gets a sour taste in his mouth and his shoulders start to sag, but then Viktor is in his space, hooking his elbow around Jayce’s arm.

“I didn’t say I minded it,” Viktor says and they walk the rest of the way like that, bumping into each other every once in a while making Jayce smile and feel light.

Viktor’s home is one side of a townhouse near the edge of the academy district. There are flower pots on the stoop but it’s too cold for anything to be in them. Inside there’s a fire that automatically lights when Viktor turns on the lights. The kitchen is simple but has a certain charm to it with darkwood and dark blue accents. The table is piled high with textbooks and notebooks. There’s a new set of kitchen tools on the table that has Jayce puzzled. He walks over to it, noticing a post-it on the box. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Viktor asks, opening one of his cupboards and Jayce makes a noise of agreement.

“Sky got you kitchenware?” he asks, tapping the see through screen of the box.

“Oh yes, she saw how old my last set was and bought me a new one,” Viktor says, sounding bashful and he scratches at the mole under his eye.

Jayce feels something hot flow through him but it’s not a pleasurable warmth. No this is an angry warmth.

“She’s been here before?” he asks, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice but failing.

Viktor sets two mugs down on the counter and leans back against it, setting his crutch off to the side where there’s a custom made nook for it to rest in.

“Sky and I grew up together. We were closer when we were younger and reconnected at the academy,” he says slowly, his gaze steady on Jayce like he’s trying to understand him down to his core. 

It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on Jayce’s head. This is new information that he should be tucking away, he wants to learn everything about Viktor after all, but this particular information curls around his heart and makes him unsteady.

He didn’t even know Viktor liked to bake. 

“Jayce, come here.”

He hesitates, his eyes glued to the post it note.

I found this cute set at Nobles and thought of you! I can’t wait to taste what you’ll create next

- Sky 

There’s even a little heart doodled next to her name.

He turns away and walks over to Viktor.

“Closer,” Viktor huffs and Jayce goes until the tip of their shoes touch.

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation to be honest with you,” Viktor says, a disbelieving smile on his lips and Jayce cocks his head to the side, confused at the reaction Viktor has to his jealousy.

“Sky is nothing more than a friend , Jayce. I need to tell her in blunt words but I…I’m not used to others holding affection for me. Really, I only took any notice of it today when I saw how you reacted to her asking me to dinner.”

He rubs his hands up and down Jayce’s sides and Jayce relaxes.

“I’m being silly-” he says but Viktor cuts him off.

“No, it’s natural for someone who likes another person to…eh…” he trails off and looks embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with the slightest of color.

“When two people love each other,” Jayce teases, meaning to say like and not love but now it’s there in the open between them.

“Yes,” Viktor says, his eyes wide and hopeful as he looks up at Jayce.

“I was jealous when I thought of anyone holding your attention,” Viktor whispers, licking his lips.

Jayce leans down, caging Viktor in by putting his arms on either side of his slighter frame and slotting one of his legs in between Viktor's. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his breath coming out as a long exhale, causing Viktor’s hair to stir.

“You don’t like it when I’m not giving you all my attention,” Jayce states.

They hadn’t had many interactions with others since they’d spent most of the week in the lab, only really leaving for their apartments - or in Jayce’s case, the gym and the forge as well.

But there had been one time, when one of professor Heimendingers students had come to the lab instead of Sky or Heimerdinger. He’d been starstruck by Jayce apparently and Viktor had made a blunt comment to the boy about his overeagerness. Jayce had chalked it up to Viktor just being fed up with the boys floundering all over Jayce, not any actual jealousy because he’d become distracted by all the compliments the newcomer had been giving him.

This new angle was intriguing. It seemed that Viktor was just as caught up in Jayce as Jayce was caught up in him. 

“No,” Viktor says simply, his hands playing with the short strands of hair at Jayce’s nape.

“Then you have my attention,” Jayce says, closing the distance between them to kiss Viktor.

With his lips still on Viktor's, he uses one hand to nudge the mugs off to the side. He then gently but firmly grasps Viktor’s hips and lifts him up onto the counter.

The angle is better this way and Viktor molds his upper body to Jayce’s wrapping one good leg around his waist like when they were on the couch. 

“I could take you right here,” Jayce pants out as Viktor breaks the kiss and moves down to kiss at his jawline.

“Hmm but you said a bed Mr. Talis,” Viktor says, moving further along Jayce’s jawline until he reaches Jayce’s earlobe. He nibbles it gently, before pressing a tender kiss just under Jayce’s ear.

“And I’m still the one in control,” Viktor says.

Jayce’s knees feel weak and he leans his forehead onto Viktor’s shoulder. The other man continues his ministrations to Jayce’s earlobe and down to his neck.

“You are still ok with that, right?” Viktor asks, pulling away and pushing at Jayce’s shoulders until the bigger man lifts his head up.

“We can always renegotiate, have you inside me.”

Jayce shakes his head slowly.

“No, no it’s ok. I like the idea of you inside me just as much as I like the idea of it the other way around.”

Viktor looks at him critically.

“Next time then,” he says and Jayce can’t help but nod, the butterflies in his stomach swirling around.

Next time.

“Let’s go to my room then,” Viktor says and Jayce moves back only enough to allow the man to slip off the counter and onto the floor. He immediately starts kissing the shorter man, crowding him against the counter again.

“We can’t- Jayce you need to-” Viktor tries speaking but Jayce is determined with his kisses.

Viktor gives a particularly hard nip to his lower lip and he pulls away reluctantly.

“At least let's take off our shoes, I’m not having dirt trekked all over my house,” Viktor pants, running a hand through his hair trying to tame his tresses. It’s really no use as Jayce’s hands have made good work of messing up the thick wavy hair.

They toe off their shoes and Jayce tries to be patient, he really does. He follows Viktor, who is using his cane now instead of his crutch. They almost make it all the way down the hall before Jayce figures he’s been patient enough and scoops Viktor into his arms again.

“Is this going to become a…thing?” Viktor asks dryly, one arm around Jayce’s neck and the cane still in his other hand.

He kind of looks like he wants to smack Jayce with the cane.

“If it makes you feel any better I’m just impatient and you’re light. I’d do this with any partner,” Jayce soothes and a complicated span of emotions show on Viktor’s face.

Jayce is telling the truth though. He knows a part of Viktor assumes he’s doing this because Viktor isn’t moving fast enough or he thinks Viktor is weak and needs to be carried. Jayce’s mind doesn’t see it like that, he just wants to hold Viktor and get to the bedroom too. The simplest solution is to just carry Viktor to satisfy those needs in him. 

“Alright,” Viktor says, sensing the truth there and carefully stretches to lean his cane against the wall. It still falls but it makes less of a clatter than if Viktor had just dropped it.

“Proceed,” he says and waves a hand for Jayce to continue. 

“Um, Vik, I’m not a mind reader,” Jayce chuckles. “Which one is your room?”

Viktor points to the door that slightly ajar at the end of the hallway and Jayce speedwalks to it, his steps only faltering when Viktor starts licking and sucking on his previous lovebites he’s scattered across Jayce’s neck.

They’re both going to need to wear turtlenecks for the foreseeable future.

Jayce guesses where the light is on the first try, flicking the switch with the back of his arm. It’s awkward and the switch digs into his arm making him wince but no way in hell is he letting go of Viktor. He closes the door with his socked foot and neatly side-steps some clutter on the floor.

The bed is massive . There’s also a ton of pillows, some of them longer and more squished so Jayce assumes they’re support pillows for his partner's leg. He pauses, trying where best to put Viktor down.

He sits Viktor down onto the edge of the bed and starts taking pillows and placing some of them on the floor after he can’t find a good enough spot. Viktor starts taking off his clothes while Jayce starts putting the rest of the pillows not on the floor against the headboard. He makes a nice mountain and catches the tailend of Viktor taking off his briefs. 

He makes a mental note that a lot of the pillows had silk cases.

Viktor hadn’t struck him as someone to have those kinds of luxuries but maybe that’s why his hair was always so silky looking and felt so nice under his hands. 

Viktor wordlessly scoots across the bed and beckons Jayce forward with a finger.

Jayce quickly undresses, taking everything off so he’s naked too and crawls over to Viktor. Hell even the comforter under them is soft as fuck. 

Once he’s propped up comfortably against the pillows, Viktor is on him.

He’s a good kind of weight on top of Jayce and he gets lost in the sensation of all that flesh against his. 

It seems Viktor is impatient now that they’ve finally reach here, as he soon is slipping his hand in between them and grabbing both their cocks so they rub up against each other with each thrust. His thumb swirls the tip of Jayce’s cock, rubbing smoothly because of the pre-cum. 

Jayce moans and holds on tight to Viktor’s shoulders, his head thrown back into the pillows.

“Do you think I could make you come from just this?” Viktor asks, his lips pressed against Jayce’s pecs.

Jayce just whines.

“Answer me,” Viktor commands, his lips finding Jayce’s nipples and playing with the bud there. He sucks it into his mouth and tongues at Jayce’s nipple while the taller man tries to get an answer out of his mouth.

“Yes Viktor but…please, I need you inside,” he keens as Viktor sucks harder, his hand releasing their cocks so he can brush his fingers teasingly against Jayce’s balls.

“What do you want me to do?” Viktor asks and Jayce thrusts his hips up, jostling Viktor so their cocks still slide against one another without the other man's hand on them.

“Please,” he begs, the heat in his stomach coiling and spreading.

Viktor’s fingers are against Jayce’s lips and he opens his mouth without thought. This time Viktor slips them all in.

“Suck,” he commands.

Jayce is eager to obey, coating the digits in his saliva as he licks and sucks. The fingers taste slightly salty from sweat and metal. He loses himself in the feeling, his eyes crossing as he tries to stare down at the fingers in his mouth. 

“So good for me Jayce, such a good boy. You’re going to look even more beautiful on my cock,” Viktor rasps, stroking the side of Jayce’s face. 

Jayce keens again and sucks harder.

“Oh pretty boy,” Viktor coos and pulls his fingers out of Jayce’s mouth, replacing them with his tongue.

Jayce can’t get enough, the kiss getting sloppier and wetter with each passing second.

“Have you done this before? Even just to yourself?” Viktor asks after they’ve broken apart and he’s scooted down to lay down between Jayce’s legs. 

Jayce shakes his head no, feeling shy.

“It’s going to be uncomfortable and there may be a little pain. I’m going to stretch you and take care of you though, and you just tell me if you need a break or it’s too painful, ok?” Viktor says.

Jayce nods, feeling heady with how careful Viktor is being in this situation.

“Tell me with your words Jayce,” Viktor says and Jayce chokes out a yes.

“Ok, good boy,” the praise rolls off Viktor’s tongue so easily and it shatters something in Jayce each time. 

Viktor tells him to bring his legs up and he does, revealing his hole and giving Viktor easier access.

Viktor kisses Jayce’s hole, making him shudder and the muscle to flutter, and then Viktor’s saliva coated finger is breaching.

It’s a strange sensation to say the least, having Viktor’s finger up his ass, wiggling around to start stretching Jayce out, and he can see his own chest starting to get red from how flushed he is.

“You’re doing so good baby,” Viktor says, inserting a second finger. This one makes Jayce feel a little uncomfortable and he shifts a little.

Viktor coos softly and kisses the underside of Jayce’s cock. He mumbles soft affirmations and slowly starts a scissoring motion inside of Jayce.

He withdraws his fingers, leaving Jayce feeling strangely empty, and dips his fingers in his own precum and Jayce’s so they’re slick again, before interesting them back in.

Jayce moans low in his throat and clutches at the pillow behind his head.

A third finger goes in and he hisses, starting to feel a fullness he’s not sure how to process yet, and then VIktor’s finger curls and his knuckle brushes against something that makes Jayce shout.

It’s pleasure beyond belief, the uncomfortableness gone as he’s gotten used to the feeling of Viktor’s fingers inside him.

“More,” he gasps out and Viktor looks up at him hungrily.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Viktor asks, his fingers stilling inside Jayce.

Jayce nods fast, wanting Viktor inside him. He needs it to happen like he needs to breathe, he needs to have that feeling again. 

Viktor’s fingers withdraw and there’s a hollowness now inside Jayce and he whimpers. The whimpers turn into senseless pleading as he watches Viktor lick his fingers. 

Viktor makes a pleased noise and Jayce feels the desire spark again in his stomach at Viktor liking the taste of Jayce’s cum.

“There’s lube in the top drawer, can you be a good puppy and fetch it for me?” Viktor asks, giving a kiss to the inside of Jayce’s thigh.

Jayce hurriedly moves, nearly kneeing Viktor in the face in his haste to get up and grab the lube. He starts apologizing but Viktor just laughs and there’s a twinkle to his blown pupils. 

“My eager sweet miláček,” Viktor says fondly and waits patiently for Jayce to hand him the lube.

“What’s that mean?” Jayce asks, watching intently as Viktor uncaps the bottle.

“Little love, or darling,” Viktor says, leaning over to kiss Jayce sweetly on the lips.

“I like it,” Jayce says.

“Do you have one for me?” Viktor asks, spreading Jayce’s legs wider with his free hand so he has room. His cock is right at Jayce’s hole and he starts squeezing the lube into his hand. 

“ Mi vida , my love,” he says easily.

Viktor smiles a bright and lovely thing.

“I like that too,” he says and starts covering his cock with the lube. Jayce watches in a trance.

Once Viktor is satisfied he lines himself up and takes the base of his cock in one hand and starts to push in. He takes his time, watching Jayce’s every bodily twitch and facial expression, keeping a slow and even pace until he’s fully bottomed out. 

“You feel so good, so tight,” Viktor says, and leans down so they’re pressed chest to chest.

He kisses Jayce, hugging Jayce to him almost desperately. Jayce wraps his arms around Viktor’s back, feeling each notch of his spine as he trails his fingers across each one. He plays a large hand on Viktor’s ass and another one on his lower back. He feels a divet in Viktor’s back and explores it more with his touch.

Viktor has back dimples.

Jayce can’t wait to explore more of this gorgeous creation he’s so lucky to have as his.

“You can move,” Jayce says, finding himself aching from the lack of movement. 

Viktor starts moving, his hips dragging slowly as he thrusts in and out. It’s a pleasant feeling, this added fullness and the slight burn of having something larger than Viktor’s fingers inside of him. But any pain dissipates as Viktor starts to speed up and he hits that spot again. 

Once he finds it he keeps hitting it. Jayce digs his fingernails into Viktor’s back and ass, trying to get him even closer, like they could merge and become one if he just cradled Viktor close enough. 

The room is filled with their harsh pants and skin on skin. Jayce is lost to the sensations, the same for Viktor.

Jayce is not even sure they’re really kissing anymore, it’s more like they’re breathing each other’s air and sometimes their lips make contact as the force of their bodies keeps them brushing against each other.

“Jayce yes, uhhh, my little sweet thing, you’re so pretty, so good for me,” Viktor says, over and over, more and more compliments and praises fall from his lips as he pounds into Jayce, hitting that spot over and over and over again.

Jayce can feel his stomach tightening and he whimpers. 

He squeezes Viktor’s ass again, kneading the soft flesh there and whispers that he’s close.

Viktor makes a delighted noise and the praises get lost to the rushing in Jayce’s ears.

He feels Viktor shudder against him and the most beautiful noise escapes Viktor and then there’s cum filling him up. Viktor looks beautiful, his arms digging into Jayce as he releases inside of him, his eyes closed and his kiss swollen mouth slightly open.

“Jayce,” he calls out and that does it for Jayce.

He cums too, and his vision goes black.

He comes too with Viktor pulling out of him.

He almost begs Viktor to stay inside but holds his tongue.

“Let me get a rag to clean us off,” Viktor says, brushing a tender kiss on his lips before sliding off Jayce to get off the bed.

He doesn’t make it but to the edge of the bed before he lets out a muffled cry and his hand falls to his leg.

Jayce sits up instantly, post sex haze clearing at seeing his lover in pain. 

“I’ll get it,” he offers softly, pressing a reassuring kiss against Viktor’s neck.

“The room to the left,” Viktor says, sounding put out as Jayce crawls out of the bed and heads towards the bedroom door.

The bathroom is as comforting as the rest of the house, the light over the mirror a welcoming yellow. He lets the water run until it’s warm and then runs a washcloth under it. He turns off the faucet and twists the washcloth to remove the excess water before going back into the bedroom.

Viktor has taken off the top comforter - clearly they got it dirty - and it’s folded neatly on the floor by the end of the bed.

Jayce takes his time cleaning Viktor’s stomach and the inside of his thighs.

He blushes when he realizes there’s fluid leaking from his ass and he blushes as Viktor takes the washcloth to clean him up.

Once Viktor is satisfied, he tosses the washcloth on top of the comforter and pulls Jayce into the bed. 

He has one of his long pillows already in the bed and Viktor situates himself before tugging Jayce more firmly into his side. The mountain of pillows have also already been rearranged so they won’t wake up with sore necks from sleeping with too many pillows, though Jayce is more than happy to use Viktor as his pillow.

Viktor doesn’t seem to mind either, pressing his lips against Jayce’s forehead as Jayce snuggles further into his lean body.

“I think this is the first time we’re both in bed by three am,” Jayce says and Viktor snorts.

“Maybe we can make it a habit,” Viktor says, holding Jayce tightly and urging Jayce to tangle his legs with Viktor’s good one. 

“How do we turn off the lights?” Jayce yawned, stretching his body before curling back up against Viktor. He rested a hand on Viktor’s stomach while his other one stayed between the two of them. It was probably going to fall asleep and give him pins and needles, which he hated , but he’d sacrifice it if it meant staying like this with Viktor.

“Did you know that I am somewhat of a scientist?” Viktor says and claps his hands, descending the room into pitch dark.

Jayce almost squeals because that’s so cool. 

He settles for kissing Viktor’s collarbone instead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Viktor says, not a question, but a fact. 

“See you tomorrow,” Jayce answers back, sleep finally catching up to him and dragging him under.

They have all the time in the world now. They’re young, they have the hextech and each other in their futures, and Jayce has never felt so safe and content before. It would be him and Viktor, in all timelines and in all possibilities, them . 

[triflesandparsnips]

Hey people who like color theory: How do we feel about Stede's steady costume transition this season from light neutrals to dark/black clothing.

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

[backwzzds]

Plug!Zoro x Black Reader. It’s literally 4 am right now and I cannot get him off my mind like just imagine him pulling up and his dark green hellcat for a late night drop but really he’s trying to give you more than just weed 😵‍💫

i never even thought of plug!zoro omg…cuz u onto sum!

like literally i can imagine zoro being that chilled n laid back typa plug. unlike eren or even connie, not a lot of people even know that he sells. he’s the type of plug that has like a set list of customers, and the only way you could cop from him is if one of his already-customers vouched for you to him.

it’s not that he’s scared of getting caught or anything, zoro can give less than a shit about that. but he just didn’t like having his business out there like that. in addition, he didn’t even mean to become a trustworthy ‘plug’ in the first place when his dumb ass accidentally ended up growing some fire ass weed one night. this is purely a hobby for him, one he just happens to make mad bread from!

you on the other hand would be on zoro’s client list through his close friend robin. you forgot how you even got close with him, but that’s how long you’ve known zoro. you could hit him up at any time at night and best believe that blacked out, tinted, emarald green scat pack would be parked outside your house within the half hour.

you couldn’t help but open the door for zoro before he even had the chance to walk in like he usually found himself doing. there was some sexual tension there, you both knew that. but you knew yourself well enough to know that if you gave yourself to zoro, you were never getting your soul back.

“hey mama.”

“man, bout time you got my shit.” the drug dealer gives you a lopsided grin before briefly smiling, flashing you the shiny gold of his canine grill piece. zoro holds up a back and smirks at you. this man would be so fine with the way he’d pat your ass the moment you turned around to let him inside the house.

with a little jump from his grip on you, you playfully roll your eyes at him before taking a seat on the couch. with a small joke, you tease, “31 minutes to get here, that mean my bud free?”

“tch,” the man gives you a quick suck of his teeth as he rests his gun on your coffee table before grabbing your rolling tray and pouring bud on it. “you always get this shit for free, don’t even play with me.” you giggle and throw your feet on his lap underneath the tray as you watch him roll up for the night. “we testing six tonight?”

“are you trying to kill me?” you gasp.

“nah, not when i can do something else,” zoro teased, not even looking in your eyes as he started to seal the first blunt with his saliva. but he doesn’t miss the way your brown cheeks flush a deep red and you look away from his pretty face. he chuckles at your nervousness around him. you were so cute.

six said blunts in, and you were both gone. here you were, perched nearly in zoro’s lap as you yapped his ear off.

“nah, cuz i see the way you be lookin’ at her,” you teased, recalling the memory of some mutual friend of yours, flirting with zoro.

“yeah, so?” zoro teased. “she’s annoying as shit. don’t want her.”

you gasp loudly before giggling. “zee! that’s so mean!”

zoro chuckled, “i didn’t say anything wrong. besides, i got someone else being a pain in my ass right now. i’m good with that,” his voice drops an ovtave as he shoves his face in the crook of your neck. your hand can’t help but fly to his green hair and run your fingers through it.

“damn, imma pain in your ass huh?”

“fine as fuck too,” zoro muttuers, kissing along your neck. “you gonna let me give you sum’n besides bud tonight?”

your breath falters as you feel zoro move his kisses as his hands traveled all over your body. his large hands find their way underneath your pajama shirt and they grip at the fat of your tit, possessively squeezing the flesh in his hand. “yeah? what?”

“could give you dick or head. your pick, mama.” between your legs nearly tingle at his reserved nickname for you. soon after, zoro’s kisses trail across your face as he’s pecking all over your lips. “‘m stayin’ the night either way though.”

you can’t help but test your influence over the plug by teasing him. “ion know, you me playing round. how i know you don’t just wanna fuck me and dip?”

zoro rolls his eyes and slowly shoves his hands down your pajama shorts, finding your already wet heat. with a lopsided smirk, he looks at you malevolently. “yeah, i think you’d like it if i stayed tonight too.”

“nah i don’t think my nigga’ll like that,” you tease, just pulling his leg. at the sight of his glock laid out against your coffee table, you add, “he got a gun you know. like to shoot people. like real scary shit.”

zoro can’t help but smile into your skin as he pulled you into him. “he sure do.”

“oooh, fuck!” you’re damn near struggling to breath as zoro has you split against his cock. “you’re reaching so deep, daddy.”

“yeah, daddy reaching deep in that little pussy baby?” zoro teased as he gave you long and deep strokes. “tell him how much you like that shit mama.”

“so much, daddy. like it so much,” you cried, holding the back of your knees up as far as you could. “gonna cum soon.”

“i know baby, i know,” zoro mutters as he thumbs circles against your puffy clit. “gonna show you that this pussy’s all mine. ‘s all mine right? no one else’s?”

you’re breathing hard as you watch the site of where you two connect. “all yours, zee.” a white ring soon forms against the brownish base of zoro’s cock, highlighting the mix of both your arousals.

eventually, you begin to feel overstimulation peak your adrenaline, so out of instinct, you can’t help but rest your small hands on zoro’s pelvis not exactly pushing him away, but instead trying to relieve the own pressure between your legs.

“man move your hand,” zoro kissed his teeth, but you were too fucked out to even listen.

“‘s too much!” you whined.

ignoring your pleas, zoro gravs both your legs and rests them on your shoulders, watching as the gold anklet he bought you dangle by his ears. “mama move your hand or imma move that shit for you, don’t play with me.”

immediately, you move your hand but let out a sharp cry when zoro grips your hips tight and begins to drill your shit with no mercy. “o-oh my go—“

“can’t help you now, pretty.” zoro gave you his million dollar smirk as he began to rub your nipples between his fingers. “fuck, ‘m almost there baby. gonna cum soon.”

“gonna cum soon daddy?” you whine, grabbing his hand. zoro uses his free own to wrap around your neck, lightly squeezing as he watched you effortlessly submit to him.

“mhm,” zoro hummed, feeling the familiar knot tie in his stomach. gosh, he loved fucking you in missionary like this. he loved looking in your eyes and watching all the love you had for him just flow right down to the juices of your waterpark pussy.

it was rare that a smoke session with him didn’t turn into this man fucking you an inch from pure insanity. zoro was crazy and he proved it each time he stroked his dick deep inside you and flooded you with all of him.

“damn girl, this pussy’s so fuckin’ good,” the drug dealer muttered to himself. “all fuckin’ kine. no one’s fuckin’ you like this but me, ya hear?”

you immediately nod your head, finally feeling yourself cum against him. “i’m coming zee! i’m coming i’m com—!” your screams are cut short as your legs shook around zoro’s shoulders

“might be a little selfish and might just put a baby in you,” zoro smirked down at you. “you’d want that pretty? want me to fill you up and make you a mama?”

“yes,” you whined, feeling your energy slowly drain as you continued to cream against him and the sheets. “please come in me, zoro!”

“sure you want it baby? gotta use your words mama.” zoro bites down on his lip as he tries to hold himself back from drilling into you like a madman.

“mhm, yes zee! cum in me please!”

the greenhead takes a deep breath as he feels his dick twitch inside your warm gummy walls. with the green light, he uses the last inch of stamina left in him to completely wreck you. “fucking hell, that’s it, mama. that’s it. just like that. milk me for all i fucking got—fuck!”

you’re left breathless as zoro fills you up and then some, his cum dripping out of your gaping hole and onto the sheets below you. with a collapse beside you, the plug pulls you into his chest and places chaste kisses all along your face.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

kiss kiss fall in love | s.r. x pregnant!fem reader

your hormones have peeked at your five month mark. your belly started to properly show now and your tastebuds were only slightly concerning. at least the morning sickness was gone, top two worst things about pregnancy, second having to give birth.

you lounged on the couch as you watched your daughter and husband playing on the floor, bits of their hair covered their faces in a curtain. spencer was already teaching her the ways of chess, she asked him many questions.

“how come the queen isn’t wearing a gold crown? she’s special.” holding a black chess piece in her small palm. you chuckled at the childish question.

“well she is wearing a crown, but if you want we can paint it gold. she is the most important piece of the game.” spencer agreed with annabeth, ruffling her locks. he stood from the ground, made a quick stop to kiss your cheek and went into the hallway to comeback with the craft supplies box. he pulled out the paint pens, “why don’t you decorate all of them how you want? it’ll be our special set.”

annabeth went quick to work on coloring over the pieces, some covered in swirled and dots while others had hearts or stars. she even drew a couple of happy expressions, then one sad one, “because he’s just a pawn.” you and spencer chuckled at her reasoning.

you rubbed your palm along your swollen stomach, old stretch marks reappearing at the bottom. your cotton shorts and simple tank feeling suffocating even with minimal fabric. “oh!” a tiny yelp from your lips, eyes widening and mouth pursing.

spencer snapped his head your way, “what’s wrong?” hurrying over to you. annabeth stopped her work to watch both of you with her big eyes. you let a smile ease onto your face, “the baby kicked.”

annabeth scrambled over, “can i feel?” tucking her hands into her chest for restraint. “of course, sweets. here,” holding a palm out for her tiny hand to sit and you guided it over to where the kick happened.

“try speaking to them. they like hearing our voices,” whispering to your daughter when the baby didn’t kick right away. little annabeth leaned in close, her lips grazing your ticklish skin, “i can’t wait to meet you. i’m gonna be the best big sister to you.”

it took a moment but then another kick appeared, “kick! i felt a kick!” she squealed, giving a little jump to her body. she looked to spencer, “daddy! daddy feel the baby!” reaching for his hand like you did earlier.

spencer cooed and gasped with annabeth when another kick appeared. “hi little one,” spencer whispered close, “i’m your daddy and your big sister is next to me. we can’t wait to meet you.” another strong kick followed.

“okay, how about we give mommy a rest. cause my organs aren’t feeling happy about being a soccer ball.” ruffling at your daughter hair. annabeth pressed a kiss goodbye to the growing baby and went back to her art project.

spencer joined you on the couch, arm thrown behind your head and resting on your shoulders while you leaned into him. “how are you feeling? need anything?” his rich voice caressing your ear and making your heart race.

you turned to him with a bright smile, “i do actually. i need a thousand kisses from you. haven’t been given my usually attention.” pouting exaggerated.

spencer looked surprised, “a thousand? man i must be really behind.” clicking his teeth. you nodded, “you have mister. better get started.” puckering up with your eyes closed.

spencer’s light giggles filled your soul and then his lips on yours caused a craving. “more,” a quiet demand.

a fast peck, “oh this is gonna take awhile.”

a lingering drawl, “we’re getting somewhere.”

another fast kiss, but you could tell spencer didn’t move far away. his breath tingled your wet lips, “i’m gonna have to call hotch to babysit if you want all those kisses.” a fifth kiss before his weight left the couch and his footsteps disappeared. you thought it was a little funny he was gonna call his boss on an off day so your child and his could have that playdate that’s been in the works.

“bethie,” calling for your daughter with outstretched arms. she worked her way beside you on the couch an wrapped her arms in a side hug, here genetic reid puppy eyes glaring upon you. “would you be okay to have a playdate with jack today?” smoothing a hand over the crown of her head.

“really?” eyes wide with excitement. you nodded, “you have to be a good girl for mr and mrs. hotchner. that’s daddy’s boss and our friend, say please and thank you. and also make sure you’re cleaning up after yourself.”

spencer walked back into the living room, “the hotchners are on their way. and they happily agreed to bethie joining them on their trip to the aquarium.” scooping annabeth up, both of them yelling “aquarium! aquarium!”

“i wanna see the stingrays!” annabeth declared to jack when him and hotch appeared at your door fifteen minutes later. the three of you watched the two chat while you packed her little backpack of supplies, you handed it off to hotch with a grateful smile.

“thank you for accepting on short notice. i just really want to be alone with my husband, im deprived of attention. i’m wilting like a flower.” sighing and aching as you talked to hotch.

the older man smiled and lightly chuckled, you’re one of the few to crack that stone facade spencer says. “jack’s been missing her anyway, he was trying for a sleepover as well tonight.” you raised your brows, “we’ll see how the afternoon goes.”

once you were completely alone, you dragged spencer behind you into your shared bedroom. “more kisses please,” sitting at the foot of the bed.

spencer moved to stand in the space between your spread legs, his hands cupping at your cheeks like you were fine china. your wandering fingers slid under his plain t-shirt, sitting in his waistband and rubbing against his slim stomach. “don’t keep me waiting, pretty boy. i will start getting angry.”

spencer bent in and let his plush lips mesh with yours, his nose tickling at your cheek when he changed angles to broaden the intimate act. a hum sounded from your throat as you opened your mouth wider and let your tongue wonder, desperately needing a french kiss. a moan echoed in the room as spencer moved from your lips to your jaw, further down onto your neck.

“this- this is nice,” letting a hand sink into the ends of his hair. your nails scratching at his scalp as your eyes fluttered and pulse spiked.

“i love you so much,” lips causing a shiver to erupt. you sighed, “i- i love you too. so lucky for- for marrying you.” your hands starting to mess with spencer’s belt and zipper.

“gonna show you how loved you are.”

[trulyumai]

His Little Wife

Synopsis: Messmer is away, fending off the shadows of the land; for weeks, months, his wife awaits his return until finally, she's by her husbands side once more.

Pairing: Messmer x Reader (Pre-Fallen Messmer)

Warnings: None

A/N: Finals are kicking my ass. RIP to my GPA. Also, so anxious for the drop of the DLC, this man has invaded my thoughts. Because of no release yet, I can only go off of so much information/lore, some things I just had to fabricate.

Enjoy!

Listen and read with my Messmer playlist ! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Lv2RUNKH2voR45QP07ryd?si=WjtWV47iSiywnT7JhADyUg&pi=u-iz0Wfu53T36-

The crackling of fire danced across her pupils, illuminating the worried expression delicately held upon her face.

Glancing upon the door repeatedly, thoughts incessantly pushed and shoved into her mind. Fears, doubts, all involving one man.

Messmer; he was to return today. 

After a long voyage and incessant errands for his mother, he could finally retire home to his little cottage: his little wife.

With her index and thumb, she twirled the silver and gold inscribed ring placed upon her finger, circling it on and off as troubled worries paraded around with ease. 

Not being able to bear it once more she bolted up, needing something- anything to occupy the heavy mind she bore. 

Picking up the nearest broom, she heard a small, frail creaking of a door being unlatched. 

Her front door was inches open, the iron latch swung to and fro as the material of the door grinded against the floor. 

Pulling her shawl close, she skirted across the room before eyeing the garden entrance. It was pouring; the rain was coming sideways, she noticed, repeatedly making the woman blink the wet, unwanted drops from her lashes.  

The light shine from the Erdleaf flowers littered the stone clad walkway, making a perfect path to the cozy home the younger lady made home merely months prior. . 

Grabbing the door, she stubbornly tried to latch it closed once more, the wind fought with the action, pushing against it with a rebelling strength. 

Letting out a huff the girl placed herself entirely on the frame, letting the door shut with a loud slam. 

Reaching up and fiddling with the lock her hands were wet; slippery from the invaded droplets of rain. 

Finally having it closed her figure slouched against the wood, lightly out of breath and now soaked, the smell of petrichor invaded her senses, shoving past the natural wood and honey scent that usually parades around the cabin. 

It was then she noticed the figure standing just beside the fireplace, warming their limbs like they announced their being in the humble home. 

The tiny gasp that emitted through the air caught the gangly man's attention, slowly he tipped his head to the side to look at the woman. 

His darling wife. 

“Messmer,” shaky steps bounded towards the red-headed knight, to which he smiled at. Turning to meet her grasp he wrapped the length of his arms around her body and with ease lifted her so their gazes could meet, noses merely inches from one another. 

She laughed sweetly, touching the tip of her nose to his before descending down to place her plush lips onto his cracked and weathered ones. 

He was so tired, exhaustion seeped through his bones like a newfound plague and if he concentrated enough, little black dots would enter the spaces between his vision, signaling for the man to rest.

He ignored the blackened shapes, blinked them away as his little wife littered his battered face with small, sickly sweet kisses. 

“My Lady,” Oh, by the gods she missed the deep timber of his voice, how it resonated just right with her ears, nestled safely between her heart and mind, and echoed between the cavities of her chest. 

“I've missed you, Darling!” Tears sprung from the woman's face and he could do nothing but coax them away. His hands were massive, engulfing the whole side of her face before swooping under her eyes, dismissing the flowing liquid entirely. 

“And I, you. I apologize for the delay, my sweet, there were more filthy curses laying about than usual.” 

Ah, curses. It was his job to protect the golden order; lay waste to any ill fit redeemers that defied the natural rule. 

With Godwyn holding dominion over the Golden Order, he was soon to be King of Leyndell. Now, his mother stepped in, ordered more protection, and more soldiers to be present in the East and West ends of the capital. 

This meant that everyone had to be present and in support of his newfound excellency. Even Messmer. 

“They don't deserve you,” she mumbled against his neck, tracing her fingertips up and down the column of his throat. 

“Perhaps not, but mother does not seem to understand my devotion just yet.” 

He walked, not bothering to hold onto her as each of the woman's legs was tightly wrapped around his torso, with her arms looping around the muscles of his shoulders. 

Messmer reached out, grabbing the oak railing around the stairs before ascending up, trying but failing to ignore the sloppy kisses below his jaw. 

Noticing the kept bed he softly growled, grabbing the woman's legs with a newfound strength and lightly shoved her on the soft furs. 

“Thou hasn’t been sleeping?” 

It was then he took in her state; the darkened bags, messy hair and wrinkled clothing. 

Smiling sheepishly up at the man no words needed to be said, the answer was clear.

Blowing air from her mouth she moved the strands of hair that littered her face, they blew with the pressure, lightly tickling the man that stared down at the woman. 

Too tired to argue he sighed instead, shrugging off his armor and worn down boots.  

Not bothering to fall as gracefully as his wife he allowed his legs to give out, toppling onto the woman even as she let out a desperate squeak. 

Before entirely crushing her with his weight, he places his elbows on either side, digging his nose into the side of her face. 

He dreamed of this moment for weeks. 

The rain slammed against the wood of their home and usually, he would be worried of its pressure. 

But today, he would clear his mind. 

He would simply cease to be, with his darling little wife sleeping soundly under him. 

Yes, the order could wait. 

For how could he spread such a message of hope when his wife missed him so? 

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 12

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Chan takes you on a date and you get to see your sister. You and Felix continue right where you left off the night before.

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

chapter warnings: smut

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

You wish you could convince yourself that this is not a date, not a real one, but it’s so hard to do so with the way that Chan presents himself. He wears a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his forearms. His left wrist is adorned with a golden wrist-watch, a beautiful timepiece that you can practically see your reflection in from how shiny and well-taken care of it is. 

It reminds you of… the necklace he gifted you the night of the gala, the golden rose pendant that still sits around your neck. How had you not noticed it? All along you have been wearing it, a subtle reminder in more than one way that right now, you are the property of Bang Chan. 

And before you had left for your date, Jeongin had gifted you gold earrings to match. It’s what he had bought for you at the store earlier, knocking on your door before you left to tell you, ‘this will match your dress.’ And it does, perfectly. 

The dress you wear tonight is black, reaching all the way down to your ankles. It’s strapless and off the shoulders, framing your waist perfectly. The dress has a gold trim that shimmers in the light, capturing the essence of the jewelry that you hadn’t given a second thought to. You look… 

“Gorgeous,” Chan tells you. He holds out for you a bouquet of your favorite flowers and you try not to think about how he knows they’re your favorite. 

He opens your car door for you and your heart warms a little bit at the gesture before you remember why you’re here. You can’t afford to let your heart be warmed by the man manipulating you into going on a date right now. 

He brings you to the nicest restaurant you’ve ever seen. It’s on a rooftop, and he’s seemingly rented the entire thing out so that it’s only the two of you. The table is candlelit, fairy lights strung around pillars that hang little lanterns above your table. The waiter pours you a very expensive bottle of wine which you sip lightly, not allowing yourself to lose your head. 

“This is nice,” you admit. “Do you take all of your dates here?” 

Chan laughs. “That’s funny.” A beat of silence. “I don’t date.” 

“And why’s that?” 

“My line of work doesn’t really allow time for this.” He waves his hand around in the air.

“But you’ve changed your mind?” 

“I think I’ve made myself very clear that I like you.” You don’t respond. You smile politely and take a small sip of wine. 

The waiter brings out dinner. It’s a full-course meal complete with side dishes and dessert and Chan sees to it that you eat until you’re full. The dinner is nice, albeit a little quiet to start. 

“You seem to care a lot about your sister,” he says at one point. “Tell me about her.” 

“She’s the only family I have,” you tell him. “I know she’s very worried for me. She hated that I dated Jungwon. She thought he was really bad for me but I didn’t listen.” 

He nods along. “Is she older? Younger?” 

“Younger,” you confirm. 

“You’re overprotective of her,” he says. It’s an observation, not a question. 

“I guess you could say that,” you reply. It is the truth after all; ever since you arrived here, you’ve been worried about her safety, wanting to let her know that you’re safe. She is all you have, and when you don’t have a lot it makes sense you want to keep that one thing safe. “I just want to make sure she’s alright,” you tell him. 

“Your sister is safe,” he tells you. “I understand the need to see it with your own eyes, but I wanted to let you know that she’s okay.” 

“You’ve been keeping an eye on her?” You ask. You’re a little surprised that Chan would go out of his way to do so. 

“I have eyes everywhere,” he explains. You suppose that makes sense—why would he go out of his way for you when he could get somebody else to do it for him? You’re lost in thought, and the silence is peaceful. You look over the rooftop at the city, twinkling lights. For a moment you remember that Chan probably owns most of the buildings you can see, and that thought overwhelms you. 

“Do you plan to keep me here forever?” You finally ask. You hate the way your heart pounds hard against your ribcage when you ask. 

“I don’t want you to be a prisoner forever,” he tells you with a grimace. “One day, I hope to give you more freedom once I see that you deserve it. I want you to want to stay with me, with our group.” 

“What if I never do?” You ask timidly. 

“You will,” he says. He gives you a charming smile and you feel uneasy at his words.

“Until then… you’re going to force me to fall in love with you?” 

“I won’t force you to fall in love with me,” he says. The smile is now gone, replaced by a sorrow that looks unnatural on his features. “That’s something you’ll do on your own, one day.” 

“But you’re forcing me to go on a date with you! How is that any different?” you point out. 

“I’m forcing you to give me a chance,” he explains. He looks bashful for a moment, hand scratching the back of his head. “I can see how that may have been misconstrued.” 

You’re silent, staring at him with a forced smile. You’re not even sure what to say. Deep down, you wonder if someone like Chan is even worthy of being loved, worthy of having your heart opened to him. Then you remember that your heart has somehow started to let in Felix after you swore you would never love someone like him. Not after Jungwon. Sometimes, the heart can’t help but want someone that’s bad for you. Jungwon was a prime example of that—a bad omen for what was to come, perhaps. 

The rest of the night is uneventful. You make more small talk, but as you predicted nothing changes the way you feel about him. You don’t tell him so. You’re undecided about Chan, altogether. His worldview confuses you and you don’t like the stronghold he seems to have over… well, everything. You won’t deny that he’s an incredibly attractive and charming man, but you’re starting to see right past it for all of the manipulation he’s done so far. How far would he go to get what he wants? You’re not sure. 

The entire night, you would find your mind drifting to Felix, wondering what he was doing. Reminded of your promise after an interrupted moment the night prior, ‘this isn’t over.’ Just the thought of his hands trailing on your skin and his lips hot against yours has your face heating up but you shake away the thought. You wonder what Chan would say if you told him one of the reasons you wouldn’t give him a chance is because you would rather give that chance to Felix, his right-hand man who has proven himself very deserving of your trust. You would never tell him, of course. You value your life. 

On the drive back, Chan sings along with the radio. You’re tired from the overconsumption of expensive food and a smidge of wine so you don’t notice when you start to drift off. You awake to a hand on your thigh, nudging you awake. You recognize your surroundings—your sister’s house. You’re about to ask how he knows her address when you’re reminded of his words earlier: ‘I have eyes everywhere.’ 

You’re almost expecting Chan to stay in the car when you exit to go knock on her door. Of course he follows you, only a breath behind you at all times. He’s busy checking the time on his watch when you knock timidly on her door, your heart beating out of your chest. After a moment of silence, you look at Chan with furrowed brows and worry evident on your face. You open your mouth to speak to him, but before you can the door creaks open. 

“Y/N?” 

You feel your heart jump in anticipation. When you turn around you see your sister, the first time you’ve seen her in months. Words escape you, they truly do as you jump forward and embrace her in your arms. Tears wet the front of your dress and you’re unsure if they’re hers or your own. It’s all you can do to cradle her in your arms and coo sweet words in her ear, to tell her you’re safe and that you’re so, so sorry. 

“Can… can you come inside?” she asks, eyes flitting between you and Chan standing behind you. You turn your head to look at Chan yourself, asking him silent permission while biting your lip timidly. You don’t really want Chan inside of your sister’s house but you’ll do anything to prolong the conversation. He nods his approval and the three of you step inside. 

“I thought you were dead,” she nearly whispers as she sits next to you on the couch. Your heart pangs in your chest at the thought of leaving your younger sister all alone. Though she is only a few years younger and old enough to have a stable income and a small place of her own, you’ve never given up on the role of protective older-sibling with her. You hate to see her having her own worries about you. 

“I’m not dead. Here I am, I’m safe, I promise,” you tell her. 

“But… Jungwon? He was all over the news,” she explains. This comes as a shock to you–you had expected for the news of Jungwon to be taken care of, to be swept under the rug. Not to be broadcasted all over the nation for everyone to see. You spare a glance to Chan and he simply shrugs his shoulders, nothing more to be said. 

“Yes, there was… there was an altercation,” you say, trying to explain the situation delicately. “And Jungwon died. But Jungwon and I broke up a while ago.” 

Your sister perks up at the news. “A while ago? Why didn’t you tell me? I knew he was keeping you from contacting me so it was about time, but you really did it? You took my advice and got away?” You wince a little bit. In reality, the events that have transpired were so much more complicated than that but you aren’t sure how much time you’ll be given to tell her, Chan looming ominously in the corner with his arms crossed. 

She takes your silence as a response. “That means you’re coming home now though, right?” Her eyes light up for a moment before they dim at your lack of response. “Right?” she repeats again, this time addressed to Chan. 

“I’m afraid your sister has to remain in our care until further notice,” Chan says unapologetically. 

“Your care… Who even are you? I can call the cops, y’know–” she rambles, unaware of the way that Chan tenses up at your words. He opens his mouth for a snide reply that you’re sure will scare your sister to pieces but you cut him off instead. 

“Don’t,” you demand before softening your tone. “Don’t. I just need you to know that I’m safe for now and I can’t come home just yet. I can’t really tell you much more at the moment but if I come home I’ll only be in more danger. Where I’m staying right now… it keeps me safe, and more importantly, it keeps you safe.” You bring your hands up to cup your little sister’s face in your hands, using your thumbs to wipe away her stray tears. “I’ll come back for you as soon as I can, okay? I need you to stay strong though, and stay out of trouble. I love you.” 

You’re fighting back tears of your own. In reality, you’re unsure of when you’ll be able to see her again. This time you got lucky, manipulated into seeing her in the form of an ultimatum. There very well may not be a next time, if Lee Heeseung has a say in anything. But you leave her hopeful and you leave a small part of yourself behind with her. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The ride back home is silent and uneventful. You’re sure your demeanor can only be described as pouting but you would never admit it. Chan seemingly has nothing to say as you fight back tears, though you do murmur a slightly ungrateful ‘thank you’ once you’re finally home. When you get to the door, he kisses you chastely on the cheek, close enough that you can smell the petrichor of his cologne. You wait until he is far enough away to rub the essence of his kiss off your cheek, a childish action but one that soothes you nonetheless. 

When you return to your room and close the door, you all but slump to the floor. What you’re not expecting is the sudden grasp on your hips startling you, your eyes shooting open and cursing yourself for your lack of attentiveness. Before you can let out a startled shriek, a hand covers your mouth and you’re met with a pair of warm, chestnut-brown eyes and a sea of freckles sprinkled across Felix’s face. You let out a sigh of relief and slump into his embrace instead, his hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 

“Hi,” you mumble awkwardly into his shirt. 

“Hey,” he replies cautiously, pulling away to inspect your features. “I heard you went on a date with Chris.” He says it not as an accusation but a statement that he already knows to be true, unharmed by it but disappointed. 

“Who told you?” you question. His brow furrows and he hesitates for a moment before giving in. 

“Hyunjin,” he admits sheepishly. 

“I should have known!” you exclaim. “I should tell him to count his days–”

“Woah,” Felix interrupts, his hands falling to your shoulders to ground you. “He wasn’t trying to rat you out. It was more…” he pauses a moment, racking his brain for the right words. “Out of concern.” 

“Concern?” you repeat, unsure of what Hyunjin may have to be concerned about on your behalf. 

“Something about forcing you to go so that you could see your sister?” 

“Right,” you deadpan. “I’m sorry–” 

“Don’t,” he interjects. He lets out a long, sad sigh and his hands move from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you in closer to him. “You have nothing to apologize for. I understand why you made the choice that you did and I’m not angry, alright love? Not at you. Chris, he just has this way of manipulating things to get what he wants, even if it leaves everybody else hurt. You’re what he wants,” he punctuates by swiping a stray hair behind your ear, “and it’s not fair that you’ve got caught up in his mess. In our mess.”

“Felix?” 

“Mm?” 

“Why do you call him Chris?” 

“What do you mean?” he muses, a small smile splayed across his features. 

“It’s just, everyone else calls him Chan but you call him Chris. Why?” 

“Ohhh,” he replies unhelpfully. He thinks a second. “I’ve known him for a very long time. Since childhood, you know? We both grew up in Australia in the slums. I owe a lot to him, honestly, and he won’t let me forget it. We don’t have to get into it now. In fact, I’d much rather get you out of this dress,” he says, pulling you even closer to him. You barely have time to register his words, trying to let your brain catch up with you but you become easily distracted by his hands on your skin. 

His hands trail lower, lower until they’re touching the backs of your thighs and before you can protest he’s hoisting you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

“Felix–” 

“I believe we were interrupted yesterday,” he says, his eyes dark and glossy. You breathe heavily when you notice him licking his lips, his tongue poking out gently and suddenly you're crashing your lips against his, messy and breathless and all-consuming. You pull against his soft blonde hair, tugging gently against the roots to hear the breathy moan that escapes his lips. Your tongues collide and you swear you’ve never kissed someone so feverishly. 

You barely notice when he walks backwards with you encased in his arms until he’s falling back against the bed with you now sprawled on top of him, fingers still intertwined in his hair and dress bunched up around your waist. 

You allow yourself a moment to take in the sight of him. A rosy red flush has spread across his cheeks and up to tint his ears the same color; his heart-shaped lips are wet and red around the edges from your ministrations and they’re parted slightly. His otherworldly hair is out of place, flyaway strands present from your pulling and teasing. He looks utterly debauched and it’s all because of you, and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to properly worship him, to trail your fingers lithely across all of the ridges of his muscles and kiss every freckle that appears on his skin. The dark longing evident on Felix’s half-lidded eyes tell you that he’s likely thinking the same thing. 

You kiss him on the lips and then trail down to his jawline, peppering kisses across his neck until you reach his adam’s apple. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss and lick across his sensitive skin, sucking just hard enough to not leave a mark. He looks conflicted between closing his eyes tight from pleasure and wanting to watch your every action. 

When you reach down to lift his t-shirt over his head he’s eager to help you, revealing his toned and well-disciplined body. You stare at his abs, remembering the first time he trained you when he had teased you by lifting up his shirt, revealing his ‘abs of steel’ with a cocky grin. 

“Like what you see?” he smiles. 

“You know that I do,” you remark. 

You’re not expecting for him to grab your hips to move you forward so that you’re sitting properly on his abs, your clothed core dragging across the ridges of his muscles. 

You can’t hide the shaky moan that leaves your mouth which just encourages Felix to keep on going, his hands guiding you through the motions of rocking back and forth on him. 

“Feels good?” he questions, watching the way you fall apart for him so easily. You nod at him and continue to be stimulated by his actions, a high quickly approaching. His hands reach your thighs and tug at the hem of your dress and you nod, more than eager to help him take the fabric off of you. He laughs when you discard the material by throwing it half across the room but stops himself when he notices you’re now completely bare on top of him except for your underwear. 

“Fuck,” he mutters in a husky low-timbre, his hands reaching to cup your breasts. You reposition yourself so that you’re sitting on top of his bulge, relishing in the shaky sound that leaves his mouth when you grind yourself down on him. “I’ve wanted you from the moment we met, you know,” he says, kissing along your neck as he uses his thumbs to tease your pebbled nipples, pulling and tugging at the skin. “You’ve made it so damn hard not to want you. Teasing me when we were training, in the motel…” 

His gaze is fixed on your chest just above your collarbone and as you’re about to question him until his hand trails up to your neck, grabbing at the chain of your necklace and pulling tight until it snaps, falling broken and limp in his hand. 

“What–” 

“This necklace,” he replies, dangling it in front of your face. A gold rose pendant given to you by Chan the night of the gala is no longer in its place around your neck and you make notice as Felix chucks it across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the floor with a thump. 

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he says softly into your ear. “Not his. Mine.” 

He half-throws you across the bed so that he’s now positioned on top of you, smashing his lips aggressively against yours. You moan into him and wrap your legs around his waist, arching your back as he nips down your neck and chest, eventually wrapping a nipple in his mouth and lightly dragging his teeth against it. You gasp. 

“Fuck, your noises,” he breathes against your skin. “I want to hear you moan for me over and over again. You gotta try to be a little quiet though, yeah? Need those pretty sounds just for me.” 

You nod at him through half-lidded eyes, watching as he grabs and kneads at any available surface, using his hands to map out every inch of your body as if it were the last time he would ever see it. You can’t help the squeak that escapes you when his thumbs hook in the waistband of your underwear, breath heavy and close to the fabric dampening against your skin. 

“Felix,” you exhale shakily. 

“Need to taste you. Please? Fuck,” he says, his thumb pushing into the wetness over your panties. His eyes nearly roll back in his head at the squelching sound it makes. You nod at him and his face is pushed into your panties instantly, licking at your folds over the fabric in a way that can only be described as pornographic. You rock your hips upward, wrapping your thighs around his head and squeezing in an attempt to get the stimulation you desperately seek. He lets out a low, guttural groan at the action, fingertips bruising a grip into your thighs. 

When he actually attempts to take your underwear off this time, your hips are lifting up and shimmying out of the material with his help. In your opinion, they can’t get off of your body fast enough. You both let out twin sighs when he finally finally dives in, beautiful and melodic, in sync with one another. 

His lips connect with your clit, sucking first before exploring the area with his tongue. He’s skilled with his mouth, flicking it up and down and alternating with slow, hard circles. Your hands come up to your mouth to muffle your moans and Felix’s thumbs push into your hip bones in order to still your movements—you hadn’t realized you were rocking your hips into his face to get more friction. 

“Felix,” you moan again, this time to warn him of your impending orgasm. 

“I know, love,” he murmurs, tongue moving from your clit to dip shallowly into your hole. He’s enjoying this just as much as you are, you realize, his hips subtly grinding into the bed to relieve some pressure from his achingly hard bulge. He alternates between eagerly licking and flicking and sucking, and you’re almost there, so incredibly close, that when he reaches up to mindlessly thumb over your nipple you spill over the edge. 

He works you through your orgasm, not stopping his movements or slowing down as you explode against his face. Finally, when your hips stop moving and you’re done pulsing through the aftershocks, he pulls up from your center. His mouth and chin are wet from your release and he wipes his face, thumb swiping away the excess juices from his bottom lip as he looks at you with a shit-eating grin. 

“Fuck,” is the only thing you can say while you catch your breath. 

“What are you—Woah,” Felix says as you climb into his lap. Though he’s still clothed, your wet pussy sits just atop his hard cock, soaking the fabric of his pants. “Watch it. I don’t know how I’m going to control myself if you start something.” 

You nod solemnly, feigning defeat as you crawl off of his lap. Blinking up at him and his heaving chest, you smile devilishly as you bring your mouth down to his sweats, mouthing at his cock over the fabric. He looks down and lets out a shaky breath, winding his fingers harshly in your hair to pull you up and look into his eyes. 

“Y/N,” he warns. 

“What?” you tease. “You don’t want to feel my mouth on your cock?” 

“I… I, fuck, I do. Are you sure?” You palm him over the fabric, wrapping your lips over his length with the barrier of the material over him. When you look up at him through glossy eyes and nod your head at him, it’s like all resolve has left his body. He gives in easily, malleable to you and lifting his hips without protest when you drag down his pants and boxers in one swift blow. 

His cock slaps against his abs, long and pretty and elegant just like the rest of him. When you grip him in your hand he shudders, coming undone easily with little effort. You lick a long stripe up his length, your eyes never leaving his. 

“Do you even know what you do to me?” he murmurs, his hand coming to swipe a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is awfully sweet for the situation you find yourself in. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” you punctuate, gliding your hand up and down his cock. 

“Then tell me,” he breathes. 

“I’ve wanted you since day one. I’ve wanted you to ruin me, wanted you to fuck me so hard I forgot my name.” You suck on his tip, swirling your tongue around it with a pop while you use your hand to work his remaining length. “God, Felix, I’ve wanted you to pound into me, take me from behind, choke me–” 

It seems like that is his final straw because you’re on your back beneath him before you can even register what has happened. He cages you in under him with his arms, eyes darker than before and breath uneven. 

“Felix–” 

“You think you’re so cute, trying to rile me up, hm?” he asks into your ear, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. He nips at your ear, catching the lobe between his teeth and tugging gently; you can feel his warm breath down your neck and it’s no surprise that you’re worked up again. You make to push your thighs together to alleviate that growing pressure but Felix is there within the second, catching your thighs open with his torso and pressing his hips against yours. You can feel his cock against your leg and you can’t help the way your body arches, opens up, begging for him to just push inside. 

“Not trying to rile you up,” you whisper, meeting his eyes before staring at his lips a moment. 

“No?” he hums, tilting his head to the side in an almost mocking-manner. 

“Just telling the truth,” you say. “Just… want you. Need you so bad.” 

“Need me here?” he asks, grabbing his length and rubbing it up and down between your folds. Your breath catches in your throat and you almost cry when his tip catches against your clit. 

“Yes,” you beg, knowing he wants a verbal answer. 

He continues to tease for a moment and you all but thrash underneath him, your head moving from side to side. 

“Felix, fuck, I need you so bad. I want you to fuck me, please? Don’t you want it? I’m ready for you, I’m so wet, just please, let it in, I promise I–” 

He stops your rambling by flipping you over onto your stomach. He grabs you harshly by the waist and slams his cock into you before you can complain a second longer. Pushed to the hilt he stills a moment, relishing in the way you feel wrapped around him before continuing his ministrations, slamming his hips into you repetitively. He pulls you on and off of his length, completely using you for his own pleasure in a way that’s just so delicious you can’t help but moan. You push your face into your mattress in an attempt to muffle it. 

His pace is brutal and his hips snap into yours in a way that is bruising. The only sound that fills the room is his thighs hitting the back of yours and you can feel yourself approaching your high even faster than before. 

“Feel so good, like you’re made for me,” you hear, and you don’t have time to warn him before your orgasm crashes over you. He coos and praises you as you cum, tightening around him and spasming until you can’t move, can’t even make a sound from how fucked out you are. 

Felix isn’t far behind you, slamming into you once, twice more before he pulls out, releasing all over your ass. You collapse onto the bed, your eyes fluttering closed as you feel your actions catching up to you. You’re sore but tingly, and you register weight moving off the bed but you can’t bother to open your eyes. You feel a warm washcloth clean up your back and your naked form cuddles into Felix for quite some time, his hands rubbing soothing circles onto your back. He hums a soft but low tune that guides you to sleep even faster, a small ‘thank you’ escaping your lips before you fall into a peaceful slumber, absent of the nightmares that have been plaguing you. 

As your heart fills your chest all the way, you note that you’re happier than you have been since the day you arrived here, maybe even the day you started dating Jungwon all that time ago. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

@hash2013 ; @skzswife ; @b0bbl3s ; @thecutiepieme ; @bear8585 ;

@moss-the-man ; @softkisshyunjin ; @sylveonitesworld ; @m00njinnie ; @nicoleparadas ;

@starsofasteria ; @klopez01 ; @luvlinos ; @hyunjinnnnnnnnnnnnnn ; @skz-akira ;

@boi-bi-ahaha ; @l33bang24 ; @hermione640 ; @gal82 ; @b-chansbbygirl ;

@kayleefriedchicken ; @notsojourni ; @hogwartslife64 ; @stilltrynafuckingtumble ; @ellelabelle ;

@melleus ; @hyun-bun ; @luminouskalopsia ; @leftovercigarettes ; @sabrina-gal-kpop

@ghostedgameplays ; @wealwayskeepfighting ; @meloncremesoda ; @Lovelino23 ; @honeyybbuubblleess ;

@blossominghunnie ; @sunlitangel777 ; @kkamismom12 ; @slaykanejvetsi ; @eastleighsblog ;

@skzskzskzskzskzskzskzzzz ; @k-keya ; @moonlight-sunrise-channie ; @estella-novella ;

@mbioooo0000 ; @lovemepie67 ; @lemonn015 ; @jaeminie-cricket ; @cookiesandcreammy ;

@jchotch726 ; @cookielixie ; @xxeiraxx ; @chuuyaobsessed ; @anime-addictot8 ;

@raspberrii ; @holdontoitwhileitlasts ; @korthbum ;

[sweetblossomsss]

Behind The Mask || Kang Yeosang

Synopsis: A cold-blooded, masked king appoints you, a new personal servant. He expects obedience—not the stirrings of emotions to his long-buried heart. Your calm and soft presence softens something within him. His most dangerous dangerous battle? Dressing up as a mere guard and the risk of opening his heart to you because he has fallen for you.

Word Count: 20K. Started: 2022est. Finished: Nov. 11, 2024

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, happy ending, angsty, lots of killing, stabbing, blood, death (none main character), Y/N really can't tell he is the guard, very very sweet lovely dovey moments, historic era, smut, one shot, Y/N gets hurt at one point, if I'm missing anything let me know!

Blossom's Note: This story had me twirling my hair as I kicked my feet and all I saw Yeosang saying "blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff." How are my petals? I know its been a while. I'm sorry for disappearing. School and work consumed my time. Yes this story took two years because writers block SUCK and ofc school and work. I hope you all enjoy this story. I hold this story close to my heart. Now without further ado, grab a drink and popcorn and read on!

—

There he was, the one and only cold blooded king, sat upon this golden with different color rare gems, dragon like throne. Draped in the finest silk robe that adorned red and gold outlines of dragons patterns that just exuded majesty.

His long luscious black hair half up while the down part rests in front of his shoulders. His mask, dark blue with intricate golden designs concealed his features, leaving his piercing brown eyes visible through the narrow slits. His fingers accessorized in hand made green and red jade rings.

The room is filled with tension as his courtiers and advisors, who are also dressed in their finest, maintain a distance around him as they flicker their sight from him to the grand entrance of the royal palace. “Bring her in.” His cold voice slices the silence.

The doors opened, walking in was a guard gripping your arm, forcing you to walk into the room as you stumbled trying to keep up. When the guard let go of your arm, you instinctively fell onto your knees and bowed 'til your forehead touched the floor, “Your majesty.” You say greeting him with the upmost respect.

Your disheveled, covered in dirt appearance made you feel ashamed and embarrassed to be in the same room as him. You stayed down until he gave you the commanded. “Rise,” you heard him say. You lift your head up and slowly stand, eyes remaining on the floor. "Look at me."

Your breath hitched when your eyes first laid on him. The way he sat upon the throne was absolutely captivating. You always wondered who was the man behind the mask. “Why are you here?” His voice echoed in the room.

“I-I’m here to serve, Your Majesty.” You stuttered, nervously swallowing. You felt the sweat beads forming on your forehead as he intensely stares at you.

His eyes remain cold. “I was told that you were one of the few who were sold to the palace.” he said, remembering what his advisors told him.

You nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty,” you answered him, feeling your heart pounding up to your ears. “I’m all alone, as I have no family. They told me to either work at the palace or face a worse fate.”

He stays quiet, studying you for a moment before speaking. “My last servant was removed for incompetence,” He said, feeling the color of your face drain, not liking where this is going. “You are appointed to be my new personal servant.”

You widened your eyes, hesitant before speaking up., taking a small step forward. “Your Majesty, I’m afraid that I do not know how to perform such task properly. I'm afraid I cannot-”

An advisor twisted his face in disgust cutting you off. “You dare question the King’s judgement? You should be ashamed of yourself. It’s an honor to serve the King.” His voice dripping with disdain.

Your mouth parted as you looked at the advisor, "N-No," You looked back at the King gasping as you quickly dropped to the floor, bowing down as you felt your heart sink. "No, Your Majesty, please forgive me. I just-“

“Such insolence will not be tolerated.” The advisor cuts you off as he takes a step forward to you, waving his hand around.

“Silence!” You heard the King yell, making everyone flinch at his voice booming within the room. He glared at the advisor who shrinks under his stare as he moves back to his spot, looking down. “Let her speak." He said fed up with the advisor interrupting you.

The King sighed, trying to calm down his frustrations. "She has acknowledged her shortcomings and is willing to change it. I will give her the opportunity to prove herself to me that she is capable.” He said looking all of his advisors in the room to which they nodded.

You felt yourself shaking in fright, breathing shakily as you had your eyes shut tightly. “Rise,” he commands you and you quickly rise up, looking at him. “Let me make it clear to you. Do make any further errors and it won’t be forgiven so easily. Understood?” he asks you.

Trust that it was a promise, not a threat.

You nodded quickly, swallowing feeling your throat dry. “Yes, Your Mastery.” You said, “I understand my responsibility and will do my utmost to fulfill it correctly.”

His eyes remained lingering on you for a moment, “Dismissed.” He said, leaning back in his chair.

The same guard from before moved from his position, walking up to you and grabbing your arm as he took you away. As you were being dragged away, you looked back and bowed at the King, having eye contact with him before looking forward.

He doesn't know why but there was something about you that had captivated him within minutes. He stared at you, watching you being dragged away until the main doors shut close.

______

After the audience with the king, the guard guided you to where you’ll be living from now on. It was a small, modest house that was right outside of the royal palace but still within the boundaries that separates the place grounds and city. Something interesting to note was that the King’s chamber window was in a clear view of you.

After you finish settling in, you went outside to take a moment to admire your surroundings. The house was nestled by a gentle stream that makes a melodic tranquil noise as the water flows by. Bright lanterns that are strategically placed alone a path and around the house that casts a beautiful yellow glow. Watching the petals of the cherry blossom trees, that are boarded around giving a sense of privacy, fall down as the wind shakes them.

You closed your eyes, turning to where the wind’s direction feeling it blowing through your hair as you take in a deep breath, smelling the nature around you. From afar the King watches in secret not knowing why he was watching. His thoughts were unreadable.

You opened your eyes, feeling a strange sensation of being watched. You turned and viewed the window, thinking someone is there. You could’ve sworn you saw a shadow but once your sight adjusted nothing was there, just the curtains being swayed by the breeze.

In the room the King had quickly stepped back, feeling a bit panicked. He gained his composure before slowly peaking his head out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of you again, but alas you went into the house.

____

The morning sun was starting to peak in as you inhaled and exhaled a deep breath, calming your nerves as you approached the King’s chamber door. You ran a hand down your black robe, a red dragon design outline on your right shoulder, trying to straighten it out before raising your hand to the door, gently knocking. “Your Majesty,” you called out. “I have arrived to help with your morning preparations.”

His deep voice rang muffled, “Come in.” You opened the door stepping into the dimly lighted room as you saw him sitting on a small cushioned bench by the open window, giving you his back. His posture up straight as his hands rested on his thighs.

“Be warned,” he said in his cold authoritative tone causing you to freeze in your step. “My mask will be off as you fix my hair. If you so much attempt to look at my face, you will be punished by death.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You say, feeling your throat hitch. You make your way to him, hearing the creak of the wood in every step. You’ve heard about the consequences of seeing the king’s face, many have fallen to them. You’ve heard about people sneaking in to see his face, or coming up to him to rip the mask off.

For the longest time, there has been a standing tradition for royals, in this kingdom, to wear masks to ensure their protection and to keep their identities hidden, that includes their name as well. The name chosen for this king was Dragon. It was to symbolize his power and aura.

As you approached, your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his back. Deep, and some faded, rooted scars were etched across his back. What caught the most attention was one that ran from his right shoulder across the lower back. You couldn’t help but to feel empathy, heartbroken even. Who could do such a cruel thing?

Nonetheless, you kept your composure. You grabbed the brush, ready to start with the preparations. Feeling your longing stare of his back, he shifted slightly in his seat. “Are you ready to begin?” He asked with an underlying edge but stayed calm.

You cleared your throat, “Yes, Your Majesty.” Your hands moved with gentleness as you stroke his beautiful silky black hair. Each pass was tender, smooth as you were able to detangle without any discomfort. Your hands moved skillfully, slow trying to avoid any abrupt movements.

Diving his hair horizontally, you expertly twisted his upper half of hair into a neat bun, pushing in a golden dragon hairpin as the lower part of his hair cascades down his back, tangled free as you ran your fingers through. You grabbed his mask, “Your Majesty,” calling to his attention, “I will now be placing your mask.”

He remains quiet as you gently position the mask over his face. He raises his hand to hold in place the mask as you adjust the strings behind his head, making sure it’s completely secure but not too tight.

When you finished with the mask, you had accidentally grazed the big scar with your finger tip as you were fixing the bottom half of his hair. The next thing you know, he turned around with fury in his eyes, “what do you think you’re doing touching me like that?” he said with irritation hanging off his voice as he gripped your wrist.

Through the slits of the mask you saw his eyes flashing with anger and defensiveness. “Y-Your Majesty,” you say, trying to keep your composure. The death grip on your wrist was hurting you. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to cause you discomfort. It was purely accidental. I’m so sorry.” You trembled in your words, trying not to cry.

When he sees your genuine reaction something inside him shifts quickly. He lets go of your wrist, making you gasp at the release, and takes a step back. He closes his eyes, telling himself that it’s okay, he’s in no danger. “Just finish helping me get dressed.” His voice sounded a bit strained but controlled.

He sits back down only this time he remains stiff as a board, hyper-aware of his surroundings as if he is expecting to be attacked. He just wants this to be over with already.

Your demeanor remains apologetic and respectful as you continued with your job. With every gentle touch you gave, he would tense at it. You felt so much remorse, but not much could be done. You take a step back once you finished, “Your Majesty, I have finished.” You bowed slightly.

“You may go.” He said, still giving you his back. You walked to the door, reaching for the handle but hesitated. You turned back wanting to say something to ease the tension between you two, but you knew it wasn’t your place. You bowed once more and left the room.

When he heard the door close, he hunched over leaning his arms on his thighs to support his weight. His mind started racing with all these conflicting emotions, feeling like he can hear people talking to him, sounds from battles—everything was talking over him. He yells as he looses control, ripping his mask off and throwing it to the wall.

He breaths heavy, looking at the mask that split into two from the impact. The once silent room was suddenly filled by his faintly, anguished sobs as he falls to his knees feeling defeated. He hated how damaged he was inside and outside. The loneliness took over him as he cried all alone.

______

After that whole disaster, you barely saw him today. You figured he was occupied with his work, not really needing you. It was later in the evening and here you are in the laundry room. The fire on the torch illuminated the room as you worked on his clothes.

You paused for a second, using your arm sleeve to wipe the sweat beads on your forehead before going back to scrubbing the brush against the clothes. Slowly, your washing subsided as the memory from earlier creeped in.

Dropping the brush into the bucket, hearing the clank, you sighed. "How could I do something so stupid," You threw your face into your hands, feeling ashamed, embarrassed. "On my first day, nonetheless."

You rubbed your forehead, staring at your wrist. The adrenaline that was running in you in that moment must've suppressed the full pain because you didn't think your wrist would've bruised up. You moved your wrist around, feeling it just a bit achy.

You shook your head, trying to forget the interaction as you went back to work. "Can't change the past." You tell yourself as you stood up, stretching your neck and back. Your surprise he didn't kill you in that moment considering what he told you the day before.

You bent down, grabbing a wooden basked full of wet clothes by the handles and stepped outside. Feeling the evening breeze, you inhaled the fresh air. You walked to the clothesline, dropping the bowl near your feet, grabbing some clothes and wringing them of the excess water, making sure nothing is soaked up.

As you were placing the clothes and adjusting them to spread out to evenly dry, a young boy who was barely in his teens approaches you. "M-Ma'am," he said nervously as he fumbled with his hands, "The King is asking for fresh garments immediately." he said.

You smiled at him, trying to ease his nerves. He must've been sold as well, so young. "I'll go right now." You say as you finished hanging some clothes, grabbing the now empty bowl and leaning it on your hip for support.

You watched as the young boy nodded and ran away. You looked back at the clothes, checking to make sure everything was okay before gathering fresh garments and heading up to his chambers.

—

As his door came into your view, you started to feel your palms sweaty. Your heart was racing with the memory of this morning. When you arrived you raised your hand, hesitating to knock. When you did you heard him say to come in a few second after.

When you walked in, you saw him standing near the window, his silhouette highlighted by the moonlight, making him look so ethereal. "Your Majesty, I have your fresh garments."

He turns around with his mask on and nods, acknowledging you. You headed to his bed, separating each piece of clothing in an organized manner. You bit your lips, in concentration as you made sure the shirts and pants were laid down flat. “Is there anything else you need- oh!”

You yelped in shock, placing a hand over your chest when you realize that he was standing closely behind you. You let out a breath, “I’m so sorry. I did not see you there, Your Majesty.”

But he stays silent, looking at your wrist tilting his head to the side as he reaches out and examines it. You felt your heart racing when he looks at you, “Did I do this?” He asked and then looks back down, turn your hand over to see the bruising.

You gulped in nerves, slightly taken aback that he was concerned. “I-Uh-“ You fumbled with your words, afraid to tell him the truth not wanting to get him upset. “No. No your majesty, I accidentally-“

His eyes stared into yours, his eyes reading don’t come up with a pathetic lie. “Answer me truthfully,” he cuts you off, your wrist still in his hands. “Did I cause this?”

You bowed your head, sighing in defeat. “Yes, Your Majesty.” You looked back up at his eyes, “But it was not your fault. I mistakenly touched you so I deserve it and any other punishment you might give.”

Behind the mask, sorrow was written on his face. His eyes flashing with regret for a slight moment before returning normal. “I-…. I apologize.” The words felt so foreign on his tongue. “I did not mean to hurt you.” He doesn't know why he is apologizing, let alone even concerned for your well being.

Your mouth slightly dropped as you blinked a few times. Did you mishear him? “No. You do not have to apologize. It was all my fault, I reassure you.” You said to him. “I should’ve been more careful.”

First day on the job and you had the king acting like this? He has no idea who, what, why, or how you have a way to make him feel things within him. Never in the years he’s been living has he ever apologized. So what makes you so different?

You two shared a moment before he cleared his throat, releasing your wrist gently. “Just be careful in the future.” He looked away, feeling uncomfortable with the energy in the room. You watched as he walked to the window, “You are dismissed.” He turned his head to the side to tell you before looking back out.

You bowed, “Yes, your Majesty.” You turned and quickly left the room, gently closing the door as you leaned your back on it letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. You raised your wrist that he held, still able to feel his touch as your felt your heart doing leaps.

Meanwhile in the room, Yeosang was looking at his hand trying to remember the softness of your skin. His mind was running with a million of questions but the main one was; Who are you to be making him feel out of character?

—

It has been weeks now since that interaction with the King, and to say he has been maintain his distance from you is an understatement. Yes, you are his personal servant, yes, you two communicate a lot but even in the same room as him he feels so far.

Yeosang made it a mission to push these feelings, I guess you can call it, to the side. He never showed concerned for your bruised wrist, but he won’t lie that it pained him a bit when he saw you wincing in pain when you did a sudden movement or when it was in the healing stages how the yellow looked frightening.

He never showed any further signs of compassion or concern. Just his normal cold self and commands with the same detachment. You have seen the side of when he gets angry at his advisors during meetings or when they arrive with bad news or when they mess something up. There are times you flinch at his voice when he yells at them. Don’t even get started when it comes to his army. The physical torture he puts his men through to get stronger is not for the weak. But do not think for a second that he is not participating, oh, he very much is.

The many times you have seen him go into practice fights with his men, to which they end up passing out with broken noses, eyes swollen, blood all over there faces as you stand off to the side, holding his robe, waiting for him to finish up. The many times you have stood in the rain watching him and his men move with practice movements in synchrony.

But no matter how much he tries to shove those feelings to the side, he can’t help it when he sees you. For example, you have become an expert in reading his body language, trying to find ways to calm him down during meetings whether it is water, or collecting paper he has thrown in an angry fit, planning the meals that will bring him comfort after a rough day or the way you stand in the rain and run to him with an umbrella, draping his robe over drench shirtless body, having a warm bath prepped for him already. Just little things to big things that add up.

You have yet to see the brutal side that you have heard. But you couldn't help but wonder, what laid behind the mask. Not just the physical aspect but the emotional part. Why did he keep his emotions in a distance. Do you think you guys will share a moment once more?

The bright midnight moon lit your path as you wandered throughout the palace's garden, deep in thought. You ran your fingertips on the bloomed roses, watching them move from the movement as you walked by them. Coming across a stone bench that was stationed in front of the fountain, you take a seat.

You looked at the statue that stands in the center of the fountain, admiring the how the the man holds the woman in a embrace full of passion as she stares at him with eyes full of love. How can someone capture such tenderness and deep affection on stone. The glow from the moon casts on the statue, making it even more enchanting.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A deep voice rang from the side. You turned to face where the voice was coming from and you spotted a man dressed in a guard uniform.

You smiled at the man, half of his face was illuminated by the moonlight as he leaned on a stone wall, arms crossed. "Very beautiful." You say looking back at the statue then to him, "I wasn't expecting to see anyone at this hour, but I'm glad I have company."

He smirks, "Glad to be of company." He said, pushing himself off the wall. "You know," He said, walking to you, "there's a story behind the statue," he extends his hand out to you, "if you're curious."

You smiled as your gaze jumped between him and his hand. "Do tell." You said, grabbing his hand feeling some rough patches on his hand. Wow, there was no denying that this man was handsome. You took this time to take in his features.

He had a heaven painted birthmark on his left eye, enchasing his piercing stare. The way the moonlight defined his cheekbones, giving him a sharp look. His eyes, for some reason, looked familiar but also striking.

He gives you a small twirl, making your heart leap at the gesture. He places your hand on his arm as he guides the way through the garden. "Well, this statue represents a love story from many, many years ago," he starts off, "The couple were from different social classes, much of the tales of forbidden lovers."

You stared at him in curiosity, his voice entrancing. "They met in this very garden, in secret, away from prying eyes of the palace, society," He said, grabbing your arm pulling you down in some bushes, "Everybody." It was in perfect timing because a guard walks by, looking side to side making sure the coast is clear, oblivious to you two.

When he sees him out of sight he goes on, "The woman came from the royal family, a noblewoman bounded to another man," he says, holding your arms, helping you get up, "While the man she truly loved was a no one, dirt poor, mere gardener."

You're so captivated by the story, you stare at him in awe. He goes on guiding you both on the path from before, "They were so deeply in love, felt like just them two in the whole universe. But from the start..." he paused in the story, looking at you watching your eyes full of curiosity, "There relationship was cursed."

You gasped slightly, eyes widened at the sentence, "No." you said fully engrossed into the story.

The man chuckled at your reaction, liking how your reacting. "But despite all the odds that came at them, they never gave up on one another, still visiting each other in the garden." he said.

No words can describe the way your heart is feeling as you watched him passionately describe the story. He finally stops, turning you as he slowly one by one takes your hands into his, "One night they decided to runaway together." he looks down with a hint of sadness, "But fate was not kind as they were discovered. Everyone saying their love deemed a threat."

He then turns you to face the fountain, your eyes widening at the sight. "They were separated and never saw each other again." He whispered in your ear, behind you. The angle he put you in brought the beauty out of the statue in its most perfect form. The garden surrounded the statue while the full moon shined behind the figure which was breathtaking.

But you couldn't help but to feel heartbroken for the couple. "That's so tragic. I can't fathom the pain they must've gone through." you said, processing the story.

"It is," he says, getting in front of you as he smells a rose he had plucked from a nearby bush. "The king at the time authorized this statue as a tribute to their love." He said placing it in your hair, "A reminder that love can leave a lasting impact."

You felt butterflies in your stomach, seeing him now take position of the statue with the moon behind him now. He looked like he was spotlight of the garden. "May I be honored to know the name of the enchanting lady who has captivated my heart this evening?" he asks, smirking.

You felt yourself blushing as chuckled at him, "I'm Y/N," you said, blushing a bit. "And who might you be?"

He stays silent as he gives you a smile, “if you return, then I’ll give you my name.” He grabs your hand and places a tender kiss, “Until then I must take my leave.”

You felt a bit frustrated with him mystery man, but you couldn’t help but to feel excited to see him again. You watched as he walked away, “W-Wait!” You called out to him and you reached your hand out to stop him, “When will I see you again? When do I come back?”

“You’ll know.” He said as he winks at you, smirking before leaving. You placed a hand on your hip, feeling frustrated even more, “Well, that doesn’t help.” You said out loud to yourself. You then grabbed the rose in your hair and smiled at it as you smelled it, walking home.

—

Meanwhile quicken steps can be heard against the floor as they made steps to the King’s chamber. The door opens and shuts in a hurry as Yeosang leans his back against the door, trying to catch his breath.

He then looks at the window, pushing himself off the door as he makes his way to it. He peaks out to and catches a glimpse of you admiring the rose in your hand as you sat upon the steps of your house. You smelled it once more before breaking out into a smile, feeling a giddy inside.

He watches you get up and head inside for the night. He sighs as he moves to his bed and sits at the edge of it. What compelled him to dress up as a guard and talk to you in such ways he never imagined he could do was beyond him. You captured him and he wants to figure out why he had fond feelings for you.

He feels a sense of anticipation, wanting to see again but as himself as Yeosang, not as the King. You consumed his thoughts. From the way you touched him with tenderness to the way you carry yourself with effortless grace. He laid down on the bed, looking up to the ceiling. "What am I doing?" he spoke to himself.

—

The soft sunlight casted on your skin, your eyes squinted as the sun shines brightly while you walked alongside the King and his guards, roaming around in the city. You took in the scene before you as vendors called to bystanders to try out or look at what they were selling. The sound of children laughing and running as they played with their friends through the crowds while the rest of the town-folks went about their day.

You then spotted a couple who were laughing together as they held hands, looking at the stalls full of jewelry. It reminded you of the mystery man from the garden, that you have yet to see again. Partly because you have just been so busy with your responsibilities and you’ve just been so exhausted.

It has been a couple of days since you last saw him, hopefully he doesn’t think anything bad of you since you haven’t gone back. You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle when you picture him telling you the story. “Something on your mind?” You heard the King ask you making you jump out of your thoughts.

Yeosang had noticed the way you stared at the couple, making you lose yourself in thought. He matched your pace in walking so he can spark a conversation. “Oh,” you smiled, “It’s nothing, Your Majesty.” You tell him, shaking your head.

“Interesting.” He said, as he waved back at the people who bowed and waved at him. Despite his cold demeanor and angry side, he truly cared for his people, wanting to ensure the best for them. “This nothing has you smiling.”

You bit your lower lip, biting back a smile as you felt butterflies in your stomach. “Yes indeed.” You say softly, looking down. “He does.” You whispered that part yourself but Yeosang heard it. He felt his heart flutter at your words.

The silence takes over you two. Still lost in your thoughts, you fail to notice children, who sneakily ran through the guards to approach you. You felt a tug on your shirt, causing you to look down, “Hi there,” you smiled, kneeling down to their height, “how can I help you?”

They looked at each other giggling then back at you, handing you a toy inviting you to play. “Oh, wow!” You gasped in admiration. You looked at the King who nodded his head in approval. “Stay with her, keep her safe.” The King ordered two guards who stood by you as you played with the kids. You couldn’t help but to smile as you played with them, taking in this moment of happiness.

Yeosang went ahead, looking at the stalls, seeing what the vender’s were selling. He then sees a table full of beautifully crafted hairpins, captivated by the designs and gems gleaming as the sun shines over them. When he approached, he saw the owner, an old lady, struggling to get up to greet him. “Please.” He held his hand up to stop her.

She smiles as he bows as best as she can, “Your Majesty,” she said softly, adjusting herself in her seat. “It is an honor. How may I serve you?” She asked, gesturing at her table with her hand.

He doesn’t reply just yet. Instead, he gazed at the variety of hairpins laid out in front of him. He can tell that each piece was delicately and intricately made. “These are beautiful.” He spoke as he looks at her, “Did you craft them yourself?”

She hums at him, smiling. “Yes, all handmade your Majesty. Thank you.” She watched as his eyes roamed all over until his eyes landed on a beautiful red rose hairpin. Behind the mask, his mouth opens in awe as he grabs it, examining the beauty of it. This is the one for you.

It was the perfect replica of the rose he gave you that night. He then turns to look at you in the distance, watching you tickling the kids as they fall into your embrace, full of laughter. He’s mesmerized at how your beauty shines more when you laugh. Behind the mask, he smiles at the sight of you.

“My husband use to look at me like that.” The old lady said full of warmth and nostalgia as she looks between you and him.

His eyes widened as he turned to look at her in shock, “W-What do you mean?” He said, stuttering feeling as he was caught red handed. Was it that obvious?

She chuckled gently, “Your Majesty, forgive me,” she said leaning forward causing him to lean in as well, “No mask can hide the eyes of love. Not even the coldest exterior can conceal what the heart truly feels.”

He lets out a low laugh, which makes the old lady be in shock before laughing with him. The cold king can laugh? “There is something about her that calls to me.” He tells her, feeling happy he can let this out of his chest. “Thank you for your wisdom and courage. Not many can talk to me in that way. It’s rare to find someone who can see so clear.”

He hands her the pin. “I would like to purchase this one.” He tells her and she grabs it as she wraps in a red handkerchief. “How much will it be?”

She shook her head, holding her hand out to stop him. “Free of charge. Anything for you, your Majesty.” She hands it to him, smiling.

“How much is it-“

“Young man-“

“Young man? You know I am the King, correct?”

“I am older than you. Respect the elders, correct?” The woman hits back at him. No one would ever speak to the King like this but he likes how she treats him as if that’s her grandson.

He tilts his head to the side as if saying try me as he extends his hand out signaling for his guard to give him the pouch full of coins. He places the pouch on the table, pushing it closer to her. “All yours.” He said, smirking behind the mask.

She looked at the pouch and gasped at the kind gesture. There was no way she felt comfortable taking that amount of money, “Your Majesty-“

“Please. You work so hard, you deserve it. Besides, it’s been a while since I was scolded like how my grandmother did. You remind me of her.” He said as he tucked the handkerchief away in his robe, making sure it’s safe.

She bowed and repeatedly thanked him as he walked away. He walked to your direction, watching your rise up from your feet, dusting off the dirt from your pants and hands as the children scampered off. Your face radiating a glow from the brief interaction with the kids. “The children really enjoyed your company.” He chimed in as you walked alongside him, feeling a huge shift in his demeanor, seeming more relaxed.

You looked at him with a smile, fucking some hair behind your ear, “Oh, they were just delightful.” You said, “I enjoyed spending my time with them.”

“It was a beautiful sight.” He mumbled to himself, looking ahead.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “I’m sorry your Majesty, did you say something?” You asked him.

He shook his head and let the silence take over once more. You didn’t question him. But behind the mask he was sweating bullets. Did he really speak his thoughts out loud?

—

It was getting late, deeming it time to go back to the palace. The King had mentioned it to the guards that it was time to leave, but in reality Yeosang has been wanting to see you again in the garden, in hopes of giving you your gift.

Just as you all were about to leave, a sudden commotion erupted. Everyone within the group froze, turning around quickly to examine what was happening. You see fellow townsfolk staring at where the sound was coming from but soon shifted to them running away as a group of masked men dressed in black charged through the stalls.

They were jumping on the stalls, smashing goods, overturning stalls in their path—panic was surging quickly as the crowd started to push one another to leave the scene as terrified screams radiated from them. You frantically looked around, watching people pass you as the guards tightened the circle around the king and you.

You felt the once relaxed demeanor shift into a protective one as the King grabs your arm, holding you close behind him. His eyes darkened when he sees the incoming masked men, “Y/N,” his voice rang in your ears, “stand behind me.”

You nodded, trembling in fright. “Yes your Majesty.” The sounds of the swords unsheathing made you more into a nervous wreck. Soon enough the king’s guard stepped into action, hearing the clashing of swords as you heard yelling from both sides.

One assailant stepped up to the king, which instinctively caused you to take a step back, trying to rip the King’s mask off his face. Your eyes widened at the action making you gasp as you covered your mouth with your hand.

The king was faster than him. He sidesteps, grabbing the man’s stretched out arm, giving it a twist and forced it upwards. A nasty pop sounded in his arm causing the man to scream in agony. Yeosang shoved him to the floor, turning to fight another attacker.

Without hesitation, he leaped into action using hand to hand combat skills, bringing down enemies. The precision and strength he had was able to tackle many of them down, one after another. You slowly backed away from them, scared to be caught up in the middle.

You then bumped into something, causing you to turn around to see an assailant, tilting his head side to side, almost as if a snake in trance, wondering what he is doing to do to you. You wasted no time turning to run away, but he was fast. He grabbed a fist full of your hair as he dragged you down to the floor, dragging you by your hair.

You held your hands onto his wrist, screaming in pain as your scalp burned. “Let me go!” You yelled at to him as you tried slapping or punching his hand. He roughly lets go as he gets on top of you, backhanding you causing you to slightly lose your consciousness as you felt the corner of your lip bleed by the impact.

You looked to the side, seeing the king fighting as your vision gets blurred. You then feel the weight of the attacker on you as he placed his hands on your neck, starting to choke you out. “Please..” you whispered with whatever breath you had left.

You clawed his hands in struggled desperation. Panic surged through you as your vision blacked out little by little as your fighting is subsiding slowly. Amidst in his own fight, from the corner of his eye Yeosang saw what was happening to you. His heart was racing when he saw your hands drop, closing your eyes. Something within him exploded at that sight as he quickly dispatched the guy he was grapping with, twisting the man’s neck as he killed him.

Yeosang takes out a blade he keeps hidden within his robe and in a swift motion and precise throw, he hurls it to the back of the head of the attacker. He watched as the attacker stiffens and then falls on top of you as blood spews from the back of his head.

Yeosang quickly runs to you, shoving the man off of you as he holds you in his embrace. “Y/N,” he said, tapping with some force on your face to wake you up, “Come on, wake up, wake up,” his voice trembled with fear, “please, Y/N. Wake up..”

You then shot your eyes open, gasping in shock as your hands shot out keep pushing the man off of you but he wasn’t there anymore. Your throat felt raw and burned as you coughed. You felt a hand on your face causing you to jump in fright as you shoved them off of you. “Hey, Y/N it’s okay!” You heard a familiar voice. “Y/N, it’s me.”

You looked at the king in fright. “Your Majesty-What-,” you cut yourself off as you looked around, “What happened?” You asked him as you looked down at your blood stained clothes and the dead body with the blade behind its head. “Oh my god.” You gasped as you looked away.

“Look at me, Y/N,” the King helps you up as he cups your face, “You’re okay.” He reassured you as you nodded at his words, feeling dizzy as you tried looking into his eyes. “It’s over. It’s over.” He cleans up your fallen tears, you didn’t even notice you were crying, with his thumbs. “It’s over.” He tells you once more.

His guards were able to take control of the situation. The danger was finally over, but the encounter had left a mark on everyone. “Call for more guards, we are going to clean up this whole mess, aid those who got hurt. Imprison all the assailants, I’ll handle the rest in there.” He told his guards, his eyes never leaving your face as you looked at your surroundings. In unison bowed, giving a strong yes sir.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said as you nodded at him as you walked back to the palace, hand placed on your back as he guided you. He’s going to take care of you right now, forget the responsibilities you two hold right now.

—

The dimly lit prison was heavy with tension as the sounds of the assailants muffled whimpering, groans of pains filled the ears of everyone in the room. You watched as they trembled in fear, faces now in display with swollen, bloody, beaten up features as all the mouths were gagged with a black cloth while others cold dead on the floor.

You said that you never saw the brutal side of the king tonight was the night that changed everything. Surrounding the room were the palace guards that were holding stern faces, barely illuminated by the flickering torchlights as they stood in the position of attention. You stood in the middle, up against the wall away from the king and the prisoners, watching how he slowly removes his regal robe as he approached the weapons table.

You swallowed nervously, looking down feeling afraid of what he’s going to do next. He dropped his blood stained silk robe on the floor, reaching for a rag on the table to dry off his hands full of blood. His back scars on display for everyone to see. His arms reach over to grab a knife, getting lost in thought as he moves it around, watching it gleam from the light.

You slowly lifted your gaze at him, watching him drop his arm, standing still as he stared ahead to the wall in front of him. His eyes flickered with void, behind the mask his expression was darkening, feeling the surge of anger coming over him. His people were in danger— you were in danger. He could never live with the fact that he let you get hurt.

“I’ll ask again,” his deep voice rang in the room causing the prisoners to whimper in fright. “Who sent you?” He turned around and faced them, causing them to widen their eyes in terror as some had tears falling down.

As he walked closer, the whimpering grew louder, a desperate plea for mercy. Some shook their head in disbelief as others begged with a muffled cry. Yeosang takes calculated movements, watching them as if they are his preys. You gulped as you watched this new side of him take over him.

You let out a shaky breath when you see him kneeling down to one of them, using the tip of his knife to raise his chin to look at him in the eyes. “You,” he said. “Things will go smoothly if you just comply with me. Who sent you here?”

The man shook his head as he tried speaking through the cloth that covered his mouth. “Shhh,” he hushed the man as he lifted the knife to the cloth, shoving the knife underneath it and he cut apart letting the man speak freely. “Speak.” He demanded.

“P-Please have m-mercy on me.” The man cried out to him as he bowed his head. Yeosang just laughs in his face. “Mercy?” Yeosang repeated, with a wicked smile behind the mask, “Mercy you asked of me? When you attacked my kingdom?”

The man whimpered when Yeosang drags the knife down from his temple to his jaw, not too deep but enough to draw blood, “Please, your majesty forgive me.” He pleads with him, closing his eyes tight in fear.

“Okay.” Yeosang said nonchalantly, looking at him with darkness in his eyes. The man parted his mouth in disbelief as he looked at him with widen eyes, “O-Okay?” He questioned. Yeosang placed a hand on his chin for support as he shrugged, nodding his head, “Okay.” He confirmed.

The attacker let out a breath of relief, guard coming down. Yeosang took the chance to jab the knife into his throat causing you to look away as if you’re going to throw up. “All is forgiven.” He said as he watched the knife slide out the man’s neck as he drops to his side, blood oozing out.

You closed your eyes as you heard the man struggling to breathe. You felt tears dwelling in your eyes, wanting to leave this place. You inhaled a sharp breath as you looked back at the king, feeling scared when you see the king stand up in frustration.

The king has been going at this with hours and nothing has yet to come. His patience, as you can tell, is wearing thin at this point. “Maybe we should try a new question?” He said as he flips the knife in his hand. “Which one of you is the leader?” He asked, pointing the knife at them.

The men shared panicked glances, but not daring to snitch on who it is. Yeosang’s jaw tightened, feeling angry again. But he tried to not let it affect him as he carefully looked over at the men, stopping at one who is particularly shrinking in his spot as he looked down, shaking a bit side to side.

Yeosang approached him as he grabbed a fist full of hair and yanked his head up to face him as he knelt down in front of him. “It’s you, isn’t it?” He tilted his head. He removed the cloth from his mouth but the man was too afraid with fear caught in throat. Holding the knife to his jaw, “Speak. Or should I slit the answer out of you?” He asked pressed the side of the knife into his neck.

“No, wait!” The man spoke out with widen eyes, “it’s him!” His eyes pointed to the man next to him which causes the man to yell at him, muffled. “He’s the one you want.” The man guided Yeosang with his elbow. “P-Please..”

Yeosang smile widens as he let go of the man's hair, standing up as he towers over the man next to him. “Finally,” The way he stood over him like a shadow of death. "Why don’t we start again, mmm?" he tilts his head to the side at him. The man frantically looks all over the room, trying to find an escape. Yeosang lets out a evil laugh that gave you chills down your spine, "Try all you want. There's no escape."

In a swift moment, he gets behind him, grabbing a fist full of hair as he pressed the knife shading the man’s throat. The man shivered as he closed his eyes pleading for someone to rescue him. “You hurt my people,” he whispered in his ear, “You hurt someone I care about.” He said as he looked at you.

You didn’t know what the king was whispering in his ear, but what you do know is that you froze in fright when he looked at you, letting out a shaky breath. The prisoner looks at you, “Don’t. Look. At. Her.” He hissed to the man as he pressed the side of the knife deeper into his neck causing the man to close his eyes as he shook his head.

The anger of him looking at you, the anger of seeing you helpless, the anger of your precious face hurt, the anger of seeing you lifeless in his arms— he loses it. He stabs the man on the thigh, dragging it upward causing the man to scream out in agony. The king shoved him to the floor as he gets on top of him, hand over his mouth, shoving the cloth further into his mouth.

“Answer me!” He yells at him as he turns on the knife in his thigh, “Who sent you?!” He asked once more as he takes out the knife and holding up against the prisoner’s face.

“-ee-in-om.” The prisoner said, repeating the same muffled words. Behind the mask, Yeosang furrowed his eyebrows as he reached to remove the cloth from his mouth. “Lee Kingdom.” The man breaths out, his chest heaving, “The Lee Kingdom sent us here to harm you.” He confused as he gulp, trying to moisten his dry throat.

Yeosang froze as he watched the man confess, the words processing in his head. He slowly stood up with the knife in his hands. You watched as he stood over the man, the lights shining on his sweaty body as he gave you his back, watching it rise from his heavy breathing.

The Lee Kingdom, how could he forget for a second? For years these two kingdoms have been at war, fighting for ownership of respective lands. He scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head as he looks down. He should’ve known this attack was park of a larger scheme orchestrated by them.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “Turn around.” He commanded. Within seconds you saw the guards turn around, making you look around in confusion. “Eyes.” He said. In sync PERFRCTION, the guards take out a blindfold as they wrapped the cloth around their eyes.

You furrowed your eyes in confusion as you take a step forward to the King, “Your Majesty-“

“Y/N,” he cuts you off as you froze in your step. You watched as he lifted his head, staring out the prison window. “Leave and wait for me outside.” He lifts his hands and slowly takes off his mask causing you tu turn away in fright, your heart was racing when you heard the men screaming.

The men were trying to stand up as they tried to find a way to escape, knowing the consequences of seeing his face. They know they are not leaving here alive. “I don’t want you to see this.” His voice rang through the screams as his mask dropped on the floor. You quickly ran out the door, the sound of the door closing faded the terrorizing screams.

You ran down the hall with a hand covering your mouth, feeling nauseous forming in your throat. You ran up to a wall as you placed your hand on it as you leaned for support. You felt yourself breathing heavy as you tried catching your breath. You placed your back against the wall, sliding down as you covered your ears hearing the screams.

The screams that followed a desperate pleas for mercy tugged on your chest. You knew they deserved punishment, you knew they caused harm to the kingdom but you can’t deny the fact that seeing such gruesome acts brought fear into you. Especially seeing the King do it. Each scream was more gut wrenching than the last.

You sniffed, removing the hands from your ears as the screams suddenly stopped. You let out a shaky breath as you blurred vision stared at the door down the hallway. The eerie silence makes your skin crawl as your heart pounds so loud to your ears as you slowly get up.

You take small, hesitant steps to the door but froze when you heard the door creak open. You soon see the king stepping out with blood splattered across his upper body as he puts his robe on, concealing the brutality that took place. His eyes never met yours as he walked past you with composed steps.

He heard your slight hesitation in steps as you followed behind him. He can sense how your perspective on him change— he’s now the cold blooded, brutal king everyone talks about. How can he face you now?

He stops in his steps, “Are you alright?” He asked in a gentle tone, turning his head to the side to talk to you. The concern in his voice was genuine, but his actions weights heavily on him. “I’m sorry you had to see that. But it needed to be done. I would do anything for my kingdom.” I would do anything for you, he wanted to say.

You paused in your steps. “Yes, your Majesty.” You nodded. “I understand.” You said quietly.

He inhaled and exhales as he turns to fully face you now. His expression behind the mask softens instantly as he sees your scared state. He sees your bruised up lip and slowly gets close to you. You controlled your breathing as you see him approaching. Slowly he grabs your chin to turn to the side to examine your lip but you jolt back as the flashback him holding the knife up to the man’s chin flashes in your mind.

You gasped as you looked away. You then looked back at him with your head bowed. “Forgive me. I-I don’t know why I did that your Majesty.” His heart felt a slight pang as he dropped his arm, slouching slightly in sadness.

“No, it’s okay.” He said gently, looking down. “Clean up your lip and be careful with your neck. There are a few bruises.” He said pointing to his neck. He sighed as he turns around, walking away from you.

“Go home and rest for the night, I’ll handle the rest tonight.” He said raising his hand to give a small wave. “Take care of yourself please.”

You bowed as he walked away, “Yes, your Majesty.” You stood up and watched as he disappeared from the hallway. You sighed as you started walking to your house, reliving the whole day in your mind.

When you entered your house, you walked up to a mirror looking at the state of your face. Your eyes red and swollen from crying, your lip slightly bleeding but your neck is what shocked you the most. Your finger tips run over the hand prints on your neck as the flashbacks of the attacker on top of you pops up in your mind.

You sighed as you shook your head, trying to forget it as you walked to your window. The moonlight peered in as you approached it, looking up to the king’s chamber window only to find him standing there already, gazing out to the moon.

Your heart leaped when he looked down, catching you looking at him. You slightly jumped back but gave him a small wave and a smile. He nods as you before stepping back and closing the curtains. You leaned against the wall, still looking at up at him. Behind the darkness, there is a beautiful soul within him.

—

The next morning, you headed to the palace. You beat the sun in rising as you see the golden hues peaking over the stone walls that surrounded the palace. "Good morning," You were greeted by one of the usual guards, "The king wishes to be alone today." He gives you a small sympathetic smile as he took in the injuries in your face.

You were taken aback, "Oh," you felt slightly sadden that he does not need you today, but you understand why he needs his solitude. "Thank you for letting me know." You said as you looked down at the clothes you brought him, "May you hand this to him?"

"Of course." The guard said as takes it from your hand. "If anything changes, we will come and get you." He said as you nodded and bowed, leaving the scene.

You gnawed on your lower lip as you walked away. You truly wish you can speak to him about yesterday and to apologize once more from jumping away from his touch. You wonder how he is able to cope with the weight that carries, wishing there was something to do to ease the pain.

_

The day was a blur as you were preoccupied with other responsibilities. You held hope in your heart to be called by the king but nothing. The sun began to set as the sky was painted with hues of pink and orange while you walked to the garden.

The peacefulness of the garden was slowly becoming your safe haven. It was a place where you can escape from all of weight of your stress. You take a seat in the familiar stone bench, your thoughts swirling around in your head as you sighed.

"I thought I was never going to see you again, beautiful." You heard a familiar voice say with a tinged of amusement. You looked at him with a soft smile tugging at your lips as you hear his words sinking in.

You rose from the bench as you walked to him, watching his expression change, "I'm so sorry. I have been overwhelmed with my resp-"

"Who-What-," he cups your face as he examines it cutting himself off from his shock. You winced slightly from his movements, feeling your neck hurt. "Are you okay?" he asked looking deeply into your eyes.

You gave him a small smile, "Yes. Do not worry. I'm okay, I promise." You say as you held onto his wrists, looking back into his eyes.

His face holds sorrow as he looks at you. His eyes holding a familiar gaze, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes, but you tilt your head to the side, "What ever for?" you asked him.

"I'm sorry this happened to you." He said as he leans his forehead against yours. "I should've been quicker." He says closing his eyes, remorse in his tone.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What do you mean?" You asked him. You felt him freeze for split second, but relax as he opened his eyes. "I mean that I should've gone quickly to the king's aid when I heard about the news of the attack. I didn't know you were there." He said clearing his throat at the end.

Your close your eyes with a sweet smile, "Please, it is okay. I promise you." you tell him, trying to ease his worries. "I'm just happy to see you again.", you opened your eyes looking into his.

"Me too," he whispers with sincerity as he looked at you in memorization, "Me too." He grabs your hands, interlocking his with yours. "So tell me," You say changing the topic, "What story do you have for me today?"

He chuckles as he walks backwards, pulling you with him. "Well, can I show you something?" He smirks, "I think you're going to like it." He turns around, guiding you with one hand now.

You bit your lower lip, feeling a smile forming on your face. But then you stopped, "Wait," you tell him. He turned around with furrowed brows with a head tilt. "You promised your name." You crossed your arms at him, smirking.

He chuckles as he looks down, taking a step to close the distance between you two. "Yeosang," he says looking up at you, "Kang Yeosang." He feels a huge weight coming off his chest now that he gave you his true identity. His true self.

"Yeosang," You repeated, making his heart flutter at how you say his name. He extend his hand out and you happily take it. It had been years that he has heard his name and he was happy that it was you to say it for the first time in a while. "Lovely name Kang Yeosang." You two laugh as he keep guiding you.

_

You two laid on the grass, hearing the sweet sound of the stream flowing by as you stargazed. Your eyes twinkled in admiration as you looked at far away lights with your head laying on his chest, arm draped over his stomach. Yeosang has one hand supporting his head behind him, as the other was wrapped around you, holding you tight in his embrace.

He felt like he was dreaming in this moment. There was no way the woman he admired was now in his embrace. He wishes he could stay in this moment forever. "The stars are beautiful tonight," he heard you say as you snapped him out of his thoughts. He hums in agreement.

You closed your eyes as his heartbeat and the stream make music to yours, "How did you find this place?" You asked him, opening your eyes to look up at him.

He smiles at the memory before speaking, "One day, my work was getting to be too much. I felt overwhelmed so I sneaked out and stumbled into the woods, wanting to be alone, wanting some peace and quiet." He looked up at the stars as you stared at him in admiration. He remembered the time he was starting as king, the advisors all surrounding him, talking all at once and showing him paper works, as he tried focusing everything at once but he just exploded at them to leave. He later on snuck out of the palace and into the woods.

"Yeosang," You called to him. Oh, he can hear you say his name everyday, until he dies. "May I ask you something?" You asked him as you turned onto your stomach as you rest your chin on his stomach.

He smiles at you as he ran his fingers through your hair, "Ask me anything." He told you as your heart fluttered at his actions.

You smiled, sitting up, seeing your hair running through his fingers tangled free as his hand dropped onto his stomach. "How come you became a guard?" You asked, wanting to get to know him better.

He stayed silent, remembering when he was ascended to the throne. He remembers the weight behind the crown, the responsibilities of ruling a kingdom, how he has to hide behind a mask for the rest of his life, all the scarifies he made— He sat up slowly as the thoughts suffocated him. "I became a guard because," he paused for a moment, "because it was a duty that fell upon me to take."

He remembers the difficult trained he endured that was specialized just for the King. Those scars on his back were from the time he was told to stay still while they beat him with sticks or whips to build up his pain tolerance. The many times he had to stand still in harsh weather environments to build up his immune system- the battles he was in as he remembers losing some of his men and the nightmarish screams.

"There comes a time in life when you're called to step up to take a heavy role you might not have chosen for yourself." He continues as you placed a comforting hand on his. He smiles as he interlocks his hand with yours, "For me, it was about protection and guidance, ensuring welfare and safety of my people— like the kingdom in general." He swallowed nervously, thinking he had exposed himself.

He thinks about how countless lives that depend on him everyday, putting a great amount of stress on him. "Knowing that you cannot afford to mess up because your next moves can impact countless lives," he looked at you, "It's daunting, but a privilege."

Your heart feels heavy for him when you hear him finish the story. Your thumb caresses the back of his hand. You sensed that there is more behind his words, but you didn't want to push further. "You're incredibly noble, Yeosang. It must be a hard burden to bear." You tilted your head in sympathy, "You must've given up so much."

He smiles as he looks at your interlocked hands, "We have burdens," he thinks about when he first became king, swearing to protect his people, "but how you carry them out defines who you are." he said looking at you.

You nodded in agreement. "Thank you Yeosang." you say, "Thank you for sharing with me. I know it must've taken a lost to share so I appreciate it."

"No thank you for listening." He smiled. He turned his body completely to face you adjusting himself as he gets closer to you, "Now, enough about me," he said, "Tell me about you."

The way his eyes were filled with interest, made you look down a bit self-consciousness, "Oh, there isn't much to say." You chuckled, "I don't think I have an interesting story like you."

His expression softens, casting a faint knowing smile that plays on his lips as he stared at your black robe with the red dragon outline. "Well, judging from the dragon on your robe," he nodded with his chin, " I would say otherwise."

Your mouth parted slightly in surprised as you looked at the dragon on your robe and back at him. He chuckled at your reaction, "The symbol isn't just given to anyone," he said answering your thoughts on how he knew, "The dragon represents trust, loyalty, and a deep connection to the king himself. You were chosen to serve in a position of great importance. The alone say a lot about who you are."

"Oh, I did not know that." You chuckled sheepishly "I guess I never thought of it in that aspect before." You said, looking at your robe, "I've always seen it as my responsibility. My duty. Something I was chosen to do."

He smirks at you, "And that's exactly why your story is worth telling." He pauses for a moment, kind of hesitant to ask, "How did you end up at the palace?" he asked, softly.

You glanced down, sadness taking over, "I, um-" you cleared your throat. "When I was young I lost my family. It was hard, honestly. To be a child who grew up in the streets, surviving on scraps, struggling to find a place to sleep-" You paused feeling an overwhelming of emotions coming in.

He raised your hand to his lips, placing gently kisses on it, "Please, don't worry." He comforts you, "Take your time." He said softly as he looked into the tears dwelling in your eyes.

You nodded as you inhaled and exhaled. "No child, or human, should go through the struggles I went through. I know my education and knowledge is not top tier— as you can see from how I did not know about the robe. As I got older, I was able to do get by by doing small tasks for people. Then one day, marches in the king's guard," You say as you remember that day. "They mentioned that they were offering food and shelter in exchange for a life of service." You chuckled softly when you remember how quickly you ran to offer yourself.

"It wasn't much of a choice honestly." You shrugged at him. "It was either go with them or continue to struggle. And well, here I am." You tell him. He stares at you in memorization, he is amazed by the strength you have. "Wow," he said in admiration, his eyes twinkling. "You're... incredible." He breaths out.

You laughed at his reaction, playfully shoving his arm. "No, no. I'm not. Just someone who is trying to survive life." You saw, downplaying yourself. He shook his head, "You are so much more than you think." He said.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat. His eyes roam around," S-So how is it working for the King? It must be hard at times, no?" He then shoots his eyes back at you, making you laugh. To say that he was nervous and terrified of your answer was an understatement.

"Well," you take a deep breath in and out. You took a moment to think about your answer. "Where do I even begin?" You thought out loud as you looked up to the sky. Yeosang scratched the back of his head as he sits up straight, trying to calm himself down.

"It's very.. complex." You began, carefully thinking of your words, "There are days I feel overwhelming weight of my responsibilities, but there are also the moments when I feel privileged to be in the position I'm in. But serving him isn't just a job, it's about being there for someone who carries the whole kingdom on his shoulders."

He stays quiet as he listens. You put a small smile on your face, "The king... he isn't just a ruler to me. He's someone who cares deeply for his people. He's someone who has to make the difficult decisions with their best interests at heart. I've seen him at his most vulnerable, seeing him make those tough sacrifices every day."

Your voice softens further as you look at Yeosang, "I see him in a different light contrast to how people see the worst in him. People think that he just rules with iron fists, with no emotions but they couldn't be more wrong. Behind closed doors I've seen him carry the weight of the crown, the burden of every choice he makes, every life he's responsible for. He may not show it openly, but he cares more deeply than people realize."

"It's not that he lacks emotions," You say, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, "He's just learned to hide them, guard them well so to protect himself from the vulnerability that comes with showing them too much. There's strength in that. Being able to withhold so much and keep going."

Yeosang was in awe of how you spoke of him. He looked down as he felt tears in his eyes, "You see the humanity in him, don't you?" He asked in a low voice.

"Yes, I do." you nodded your head, "That's why I'll keep serving him with everything within me. If there is anything I can do to ease his burdens, I'll do it. Because I believe in him for who he is, not as the king everyone sees."

He looks up with a tear streaming down his face, "I apologize," he chuckled, looking away wiping his face, "Those words spoke to me deeply."

"Oh, Yeosang," you cupped his face, making him turn to face you as you wiped his tears away with your thumb, "Don't be sorry. It's okay to let yourself be human. Maybe you relate to the king in some aspects, mmm?."

He just laughed, nodding at you. If only you knew, "Yes, maybe." He said leaning into your touch as he placed his hand over your hand that cupped his face.

_

Since that night you have been seeing him quiet often at night in the garden. You two enjoyed sneaking around the night shift guards, hiding in bushes or behind stone walls as you two stand chest to chest at times, or how stargazing has become a things between you two, or the random sweet talks you have when walking to his secret place, or enjoying a childish act like throwing water to each other from the stream.

As each day passes, you two grew closer and closer. There was one special night where you two laid next to each other, moonlight casted on you both as you looked into each others eyes. Soon you saw Yeosang leaning in causing to flutter your eyes close, raising your eyebrows in shock when he kissed you. You both opened your eyes when he pulled away. He then sits up and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. He hovers over you as you two returned to kissing passionately.

Let's not forget how your house is filled with bouquets of flowers he makes every time he sees you from random bushes or the flower field you two pass by in the woods. He always walks you home and hands you the freshly made bouquets before kissing you good night and leaving. You feel completely over the moon when you see him and you realize you are falling deeply in love with him.

And here you are once again, walking into the garden, seeing him sat upon the bench. You smiled mischievously as you sneaked up behind him. Yeosang, who was trained to spot noises from miles away, knew it was but wanted to give you a chance to scare him.

You covered his eyes. "Guess who?" You smiled as you felt him stiffen up but then relax in your touch. "Oh, wow, this is hard," he smiles when he hears you giggling. "Might it be," he pounders for a second, "the woman who has my heart?" He asks, causing you to laugh as you remove your hands, taking a seat next to him.

"How did you know?!" You gasped in a fake surprise tone. You placed a kiss on his lips. "Mmm, it was a wild guess." He tells you as you leaned your cheek on his shoulder, looking up at him.

"How are you doing?" You asked him, eyes twinkling. "Much better now that you are here." He smirks as he places a hand on yours. "I wish we could stay here forever." He whispers to you.

"Which reminds me," You say nervously as you played with your hands, looking away from him. "I wanted to ask you something. I-Is there a reason as to why we only see each other at night? How come you never stay longer with me?" You asked him. "Are you afraid to be seen with me?"

His eyes widened at the last question. "What? Why would you say that? That is not the reason at all." He grabs your chin and turns your face to look at him. He sighed, "My love, you know that I have my guard duties that take up my time during the day. And since we sneak around at night, I get worries we will be caught." His thumb caresses your cheek.

You nodded, looking down. "You're right." You tell him. "I apologize. I don't know why I let my thoughts get to me." You chuckle sheepishly, trying to ignore the pang of sadness forming in your heart. You want to be able to be a couple in peace. Like those that you saw in town. To be able to showcase your relationship freely.

His heart breaks, watching your emotions changed. "How about I spend the night with you?" He asks, his mouth speaking faster than his thinking.

You cleared your throat, "Huh?" Your eyes widened. Why are you acting so shocked, isn't this what you wanted? "Oh- I um-"

Yeosang holds his hands up, trying to stop your thinking. "Oh. N-Not like that-"

You let out a sheepish smile. "Oh- okay, I was just-"

"I mean, unless you want to." He cuts you off again. He widens his eyes, "No- wait- It's your choice, but I just wanted to sleep with you." He shook his head as he slapped his forehead in embarrassment. "I mean I want to lie with you." He shakes his head and throws it back frustration. You make him so nervous. "I mean-"

You stand up, "Yeosang," You cut him off with a smile. You extended your hand out to him. "Come with me." He chuckles at himself as he grabbed your hand.

_

The silence had a comfortable feeling as you two lied in bed together. You two faced each other as you looked into each other’s eyes all mesmerized as he had a hand cupping your face. “Thank you for staying the night.” You say softly as you smiled.

“Thank you for letting me.” He said smiling back at you as his thumb caressed your thumb, causing you to close your eyes in delight. He chuckled lightly, “Are you tired?” He asked you as you nodded. He lays on his back, arm open for you to come into his embrace, “Come here.” He tells you.

You blushed, feeling butterflies in your stomach as you get closer and feeling him warm embrace enclosed around you. His heart was racing, feeling as if he can die in peace now. “Good night, Yeosang.” You tell him as you adjusted your head on his arm.

He leans over and gives you a kiss on your forehead, “Good night Y/N.” He leans his head back onto the pillow as you two drifted to sleep. How he wished he could stay in this moment forever.

Early in the dark morning Yeosang slowly opened his eyes. He had to get back before the sun rises. He looks down at you, gently removing you from his embrace. He watched as you shifted slightly in sleep, groaning a bit before getting back into a deep sleep. He chuckled as he turned to your table, taking out a red handkerchief and note.

He looks back and presses a kiss on your forehead before slowly backing up and quietly leaving your house. On his way to the chambers he can’t help but to smile knowing that he shared such an intimate moment with you.

—

You heard the birds chirping, your nature alarm. You groaned when you felt the sun peering into your room as you held your hand out to block the brightness. You turn your head to the side to see if you spot Yeosang but he's not here. You sat up and looked around, rubbing your sleepy eyes, “Yeosang?” You called out to him, but he was no where in sight.

You pouted knowing you weren’t able to say goodbye. But maybe you’ll see him later on tonight. You sighed as you removed the covers from your legs as you stood up, stretching your neck as you prepared the clothes for today, seeing as you have busy day with the King as he has meetings.

You then walked to the kitchen to prepare some tea but was stopped when you saw a red handkerchief and note on the table. You furrowed your eyebrows as you tilted your head, “What is this?” You asked yourself as you picked up the note.

It reads, To the woman who captured my eyes, my heart, my soul there are no words to describe what you make me feel. Out of all the roses in the world, you bloom the most beautiful. This pin represents the beauty you bestow. - Kang Yeosang.

The warmth of his words made your heart leap as you smiled at the note. You placed it down as you grabbed the handkerchief, slowly unraveling it. You gasped at the sight of the rose hairpin. You grabbed it, letting the red cloth fall to the table.

You sighed out a gasp as you moved it around your hand. You turned and quickly walked up to your mirror as you adjusted your hair and slide in the pin, turning your head to the slide to admire it. Oh yes, you really love this man.

_

Here you are in the grand room of the palace as you stood behind the King, dressed in a red robe with a black and gold dragon outline on your shoulder with your new rose hairpin on display. Your eyes scan the room that was filled with the advisors, military leaders, and other high ranking officials. The atmosphere was tense, thick with the weight of important decisions that yet to be made.

Throughout the meeting, you stood by him, watching his body language shift in different emotions. The discussion today was about the plan on the up coming war with the Lee Kingdom. You felt knots of fear forming in your stomach as you tried to keep your feelings at bay. You watched how the men in the room yelled at one another as they voiced their opinions on what they should do or what they assumed was a horrible idea.

Many tried to speak for the king which only made things worst. Everyone in the room flinched and went quiet when he heard the King slam his hands on the table, standing up. "Why must you all handle this which such incompetence." His low voice rang. You gulped, wondering what his next actions were.

"General," He calls to him. The General sits up straight, "Yes, your majesty?" He said clearing his throat, trying to make his voice sound strong and not in fear. "Gather all the men tonight. Start their training at dawn. They must be prepared for what is to come." He looks up at the men in front of him. "We are going to showcase the most historic bloodbath known to man. We will make them regret ever attacking our kingdom."

They all nodded in silence. "Everyone is dismissed." He says. With that everyone stands up and bows in unison. The king walks pass you, looking out the window while everyone leaves the room. When the door closes, he lets out a sigh, feeling exhausted and burnt out.

"What is troubling you?" He asks you, sensing your uneasiness. Well, what weren't you thinking of. You were internally freaking out about this war, about how many guards were going, is Yeosang going to be one of them, what if he were to get hurt, what if he were to die, what if- "I sense something is disturbing you." He said turning you, approaching you with his hands behind his back.

You held his gaze slightly caught off guard by his direct question. "It is nothing, your majesty." You shook your head masking your emotions. He tilts his head, a way of saying don't lie. You sighed in defeat as you looked down. "I'm just afraid of this war. The many lives that will changed. The people we might lose." You looked at him, "Are all guards going? I-I just want to make sure you'll be safe." Not a lie, but you want to know if some are staying behind.

His eyes lingered on you almost as if he's trying to see pass the walls you put up. He stays quiet for a second before breaking it, "We will be sending majority of the guards. Some will be staying behind in case of anything." He gets closer to you, "I know this meeting was unsettling to you, but rest assured that I do not intend to lose." His tone softens up.

You gave him a small smile, looking down and back up at him. "Of course, your majesty." You return the soft tone. "I believe in you."

He nods, turning around. "Very well," His cold self returns in a matter of seconds. You were use to it already. "You are dismissed for the day. I will handle everything else from here." You bowed as he walked out the room.

After a few minutes, feeling as if he was already away from the sight, you quickly ran out the room to the garden in hopes of seeing Yeosang.

—

You felt the world spinning as you ran all over the palace trying to find Yeosang. You shouted his name, hearing your voice echoing his name throughout the halls, but there was no response. An overwhelming sense of fear was coursing through you.

Your search led you to the garden as you frantically turned your head looking for him. The wind was blowing roughly, making your hair fly as it created a harsh hum in your ears, hearing some leaves rustling by. You let out a choked sob as you hugged yourself, feeling sadness consuming you.

What if you don’t see him before he leaves? What if he was already shipped for training? What if he doesn’t come back from the war? What if— “Y/N?” A voice snapped you out of your rushing thoughts.

You gasped as you turned to his voice, feeling your heart leap in relief at the sight of him, “Oh.” you say as you run to him, trying to ease yourself.

Yeosang’s expression softened at the sight of you as he opened his arms to embrace you. He kisses your temple as he hugs you tightly, “My love,” he lets go as he goes to cup your face, “What’s wrong?” He asked you in a gentle voice, the sight of you broke his heart.

“Yeo-“ you cut yourself off with a sob as you held onto his wrists. “Yeosang, please tell me you aren't going..” You shook your head as you looked into his eyes. "Please tell me." You cried out.

He sighed as he leaned his forehead against your, closing his eyes, “My love—“

“No, no. please don’t.” You cut him off, not wanting to believe it. “Please, just stay. Stay with me." You sniffed. "Let's runaway. Let's just get out of here before it's too late." Your voice broke out into a whisper.

His eyes had tears dwelling in as he looked into yours, using his thumbs to clean the fallen tears. “My love,” he said as you whimpered in sadness at the name, “I would do anything to stay and be with you,” your eyes held on for tiny bits of hope, but it was shattered, “but I must go.”

You removed his hands from your face as you sighed turning around in frustration. "My love. This is something I have to do. I cannot just stand by and do nothing." He tells you, trying to grab your arm but you yank it out of his grasp.

He takes a step back at your actions, eyes widening. You stare at him with angry tears streaming down your face, "Why not?" You asked him. "Why you? Forgive me for being selfish, but why not anyone else? Why must you go and someone else gets to stay?" He stays silent. "What if I lose you?" Your hand clutched your chest, feeling your heart being crushed.

He sighed as he takes a step to you, cupping your face, "No. Don't say that-" He shakes his head.

You sobbed. "What if you don't come back to me-"

"Stop it." He cuts you off with a serious tone. "Look at me, please." He begs of you. "You will never lose me. I promise you, I will come back to you." He kisses your lips to calm you down.

You imagine about him not coming home after that promise. "Don't make such promises. What if something-." You close your eyes, sniffing.

He smirks, tilting his head to the side. "What? You think I'm weak? I feel quite offended that my woman thinks I am not capable." He jokes with you, trying to lighten up the mood.

Even in a situation like this he knows how to make your heart flutter. Even in a situation like this, he knows how to make you smile and laugh. You let out a soft chuckle as you shoved his chest playfully. "I will come back to you. No matter what." He places a kiss on your forehead.

You looked at him as you nodded. "Okay." You say quietly. "I-" You say, cutting yourself off, feeling nervous. "I love you."

His mouth parted slightly in shock. His eyes moved between your eyes and lips as he leaned in and kissed you. He kissed you as if tomorrow does not exist. "I love you too." He said between kisses, making you melt in his touch. "More than you know."

—

And that was the last you saw of Yeosang. That day he told you he would be gone for training. How long? No idea. Would you see him before he leaves? Much less. You really tried your best in not letting your emotions show but it's so hard. The king even notices the change in your demeanor, how you have been delaying his commands or making small mistakes you don't normally make.

When he asks you what the issue is, you just tell him your scared for this war. Which is not a lie. You are terrified of this war, of what will happen to Yeosang, or the king, hell, even the kingdom if we lose. You don't mean to doubt the strength of your king, but you just simple cannot help it right now.

You were tending to your responsibilities one afternoon, helping out with supper that will be packed up for the in-training guards. That is until one of the king’s guard came up to you, halting your actions. “You are needed in the king’s chambers,” he said causing you to look up at him, “Immediately.”

You stood up from your seat, removing your apron, “Yes.” You said feeling your heart racing with confusion and anxiety. “I’ll be on my way." You quickly abandoned your position as you hurried throughout the palace.

The sense of urgency in the guard's voice made you uneasy, wondering what had happened that the king needed you so urgently. You paused for a moment to catch your breath, swallowing to moisten your dry throat, when the sight of the doors came into your sight.

You wiped your hands down on your robe, fixing yourself before approaching to the door. You looked at the two guards who gave you a nod, signaling to enter the door. He steps to the side and opens the door for you.

You inhaled and exhaled, feeling your heartbeat in your ears with every step. Your eyes scanned the room and found him standing near the window, watching how his hair and opened top robe gently swayed from the wind. You took in his nightly robe, all silky white with a black dragon outline in the back.

The doors closed behind, letting you speak in private. "Your majesty," You say as you walked to the center of the room, "You summoned me? Is everything alright?"

There was a silence in the room before he inhaled and exhaled, “I was thinking about you.” he said causing your eyes to slightly widened. “And I was thinking that,” He pauses as he turns around to face you, mask still on his face. “you deserve to know the truth.”

Now you are just confused. You furrowed your eyebrows as you tilted your head to the side. “What do you mean your majesty?”

He takes a few steps forward, still maintains his distance. “There is something I must say," He pauses once more, looking down, " but I’m afraid of your reaction.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, taking one step forward, "Your Majesty," your tone comforting, "You do not have to afraid with me. Please, whatever is troubling you, tell me."

He stares at you. “I don’t think that I can hide from you any longer.” He said making you tilt your head in confusion. “H-hide? What would you be hiding from me that you’re afraid of how I’ll react?” You asked him.

He walks slowly to you, closing some the distance a tad bit more. “Do you trust me?” He whispers to you, looking back and forth at your eyes as he stops in-front of you.

You nodded, “Of course. With everything within me.” You reassure him. You watch as he slowly raises his hand up to his mask, fingers gripping at the edge of it. Your eyes widened as your breath hitched before completely turning around, "Your Majesty." His title coming out reflexively, as your tone was filled with shock and fear.

The room was filled with nothing but your shallow breaths. Your heart was pounding up to your ears, terrified at his actions. "Please," you heard his voice tremble with vulnerability, something that was unheard of from him, "Look at me." he begged of you.

You shook your head. “With all due respect your majesty,” you gulped nervously, “I- I don’t think I can. Why-Why are you doing this?" You stuttered at him as you frantically looked all over the floor, feeling shocked with his actions.

You jolted when you heard the thudding of the mask as it fell to the floor, feeling your heart racing even more. Is this a test of trust? "Y/N, please look at me. I promise you it is okay." You heard him say as he gets closer to you causing you to gasp as you covered your eyes with your hands.

"Your majesty, I don't think this is right." You felt your chest heaving, feeling beyond terrified of the consequences. "We mustn't. For your own protection."

There was silence- only your heavy breathing can be heard. You weren't sure as to why he would do such a thing to you or why he would even bother trying to show you his face. This must be a test, no doubt. You stood still, waiting for his response as you still covered your eyes.

He sighed as he looked down, "To the woman who captured my eyes, my heart, my soul," He spoke in a low voice. You froze. Slowly you dropped your hands from your face as your eyes widened in disbelief, your mouth parted in shock. "There are no words to describe-," his voice broke in sadness, "To describe what you make me feel."

Slowly, hesitantly you turned to face him. A trembling hand covered your mouth as you took a step back, "No.." You whispered at the sight. You felt the in coming tears burning the inner corners as you blinked in doubt.

"Y/N," he said your name causing you let out a gasp. The way he says your name- it bring you back into the fact that this is reality. This is real. . "I'm so sorry I kept this hidden from you." His eyes carried rawness, reflecting the vulnerability he had been hiding behind the mask.

You shook your head as you said no like a mantra as your hands held your head as you looked around the room as if you're going crazy. "This can't be happening." You spoke your thoughts out loud. You watched as the king—Yeosang— take a step forward but you took a step back, “No! Stay away from me.”

“Y/N,” his voice broke as he sniffed, “Please let me explain.” He said as he took another step forward, cupping your face. “My love-“

“My love?” You repeated in disbelief as you shoved his hands off. You stare at him with anger in your eyes. “Do you have any idea what you have done?” You asked him as you watched tears streaming down his face. “I trusted you-“

“My love, I know-“ he cried in sorrow and regret, coming close to you again but you backed up once more.

“How could you do this?” You clutched onto your chest, feeling your heart break. “How could you do this to me? To us-” You looked at him as a shiver went down your spine, realizing that you are looking at him. “A-Are you going to kill me?”

His mouth parts in shock as he stares at you in disbelief, “Why would you- No. No, I would never, ever do that to you.” He lets out a sob as he gets closer to you once more cupping your face. “Y/N please just give me a chance to explain myself. Let me prove to you that I am still the same man you know, despite the title I bestow. I’m still the same man who is deeply in love with you.”

"Your Majesty-"

"To hell with the that. It's Yeosang," he cuts you off. "Yeosang." he repeated, holding your face to look into his eyes. You stayed silent as you looked into his eyes that was full of desperation. He leaned his forehead against you, "Let me explain my actions please. I beg of you." He pleads with you. All you were able to do is nod, watching him let out a shaky breath of relief.

"Y/N," He begins, "From the moment my eyes laid on you, I knew my world was never going to be the same. Time slowed and all the noises in my head faded away when I was with you. I felt human again. I felt alive." He grabs your hand and places it on his chest, "You feel this? My heart beats for you. I would do anything for you, Y/N." He spoke from his soul.

"I portrayed myself as a mere guard because I couldn't risk it if they found out about you while I was in my king attire. I couldn't risk losing you. Yes, I know," he said as he watched you looking to the side, crying as he cupped your face to look at him, "I should've said something but I was afraid. Afraid of being caught, afraid of how you'll react, afraid of everything while doing this risky thing. Y/N, I have done things that haunt me at night but when I am with you they disappear. I wanted to know the real you and for you to know the real me."

He wipes your tears with his thumb, "I'm so sorry for pain I have brought upon you. I'm so sorry for making you fall in love with me, I'm selfish I know. But I, too, fell in love with you. Before I went off to war, I needed to tell you, no matter the outcome of me. Believe me, I never wanted to hurt you." He finishes as he hugs you tightly, pressing a kiss on your head.

You cling onto him as the words he spoke sink into you, crying into the crook of his neck. You felt torn apart with the love you had for him and the reality of your circumstances, "Why must you go? Why must a war happen in order to have peace?" You cried out to him. You removed yourself from his embrace as you looked into his eyes, "Even if you do win the war, you and I will not win. They will never let us be together. They will tear us apart- They will send me away." You whispered as your voice broke, "You're a royal. I'm nobody. We can never be."

"That doesn't matter," He shook his head, "I will-"

"Doesn't matter?" You repeated as you sniffed. "Look at what they did to the couple in the garden." You reminded him of the statue. "We are just like them. If it happened to them, it will happen to us."

He felt anger coursing in him. He takes a step back and kneels in front of you making your gasp, "Yeo-Yeosang, what are you doing? Get up. You don't have to do this." You say as you walked to kneel down with him but he puts a hand out to stop you. The sight of a powerful king kneeling in front of you felt surreal.

"If getting on my knees proves that I would do anything for you, then so be it." He said looking up at you. "I love you. You are the reason I am able to keep going. Your status or my status means nothing to me if I don't have you. I can lose everything and I can live with that but if I lose you-" He clears his throat as he looks down, cutting himself off. "I wouldn't be able to live. To hell with what people say."

You fall to your knees as you lift his face in your hands as you placed a gentle kiss on his. He exhaled as he felt your soft lips. "Yeosang," You say when you pulled away, "I have discovered so much with you. You taught me the meaning of true love, an emotion I never truly felt before. Words cannot describe the immense joy you have brought into my life. To be in this lifetime with you is blessing. I have deemed our love to be the richest thing I have ever owned in my life." You gave him a small smile, "But I.. I need time to understand what this means for us. For me."

He removes your hands gently from his face as he brings them to his lips, placing gentle kisses on them. He closes his eyes as tears streamed down his cheek, nodding. "Of course, my love," his voice barely a whisper, "I understand."

_

You felt as if a rock had crushed you as the days leading up to the departure neared. There was no doubt in your heart that you loved Yeosang. But you were afraid of how the advisors would react, how the people of the kingdom would react. You would rather stop the relationship between you two then to be sent away, never seeing him again.

Here you are in his room, dreading that it is the last time you will see him in a while as it is departure day. You were summoned by him, of course. He stood in front of the mirror, mask off now, as he watches you through it, seeing how you walked back and forth from the bed to him.

He watched as you handled his armor with care, placing it on him with a gentle touch. He closed his eyes delight as he felt your hand through his hair. He opened his eyes to take in your features. The way you bit your lips in concentration, how you furrowed your eyebrows- even with his intense stare, you moved with practice precision.

You turned around to place some accessories on the bed and turned around only to slightly jump back seeing him stand there. He smiled at your actions as he placed his hands on your arms. You gave him a small smile as you lifted your hands to fasten the straps of his armor adjusting the plates to ensure they fit well. As you finished with the last piece, you hesitated for a moment, your hand lingered, slowly gliding it down to his chest.

You looked into his eyes, taking in his features as well. Admiring everything you loved about him. "I brought something." You say the breaking silence, "I want you to take this." You reached in your robe and grabbed your rose hairpin he gave you. "I wanted you to think of me." You gave a sad sheepish smile.

You grabbed his hand and placed it as you rolled his fingers to grip it well. "I'll keep it close. I will carry you in my heart." He said placing it inside his clothes. His hand take home behind your neck as he pulled you closer to him.

"You better come back to me, Yeosang." You said with heaviness in your heart. A deep rooted fear inside you as you think this might be the last time you will see him. You felt a lump forming in your throat as you felt his thumb caress your lips. "Please."

"No matter what happens," He said looking into your eyes, "I will return. Besides," He gave you a playful smile, "You think I am weak?" He asked as he tilted his head.

You chuckled as you playfully hit his chest, softly. "Keep that smile for me." He said leaning his forehead on yours, running a his thumb over your lips. "Everything is going to be okay."

He looks into your eyes for permission before looking at your lips, asking for one last time. You held onto his shoulders as you two shared a passionate kiss. Feeling his hands roaming the curvature of your back, pulling you in, wanting to feel you tightly against his body. You melted into the kiss as your hands snaked down to his biceps, gripping at them as you held on for dear life in this heated kiss.

You two pulled away, panting as you tried catching your breath. "I will come back." He says.

-

The sun casted over the city as people from all over gathered to watch the king and his army departure. You stood among the crowd, crossing your arms as you heart felt heavy knowing what might or might not unfold as the wind blew in your hair. Everyone then falls in silence as they see him appear on a beautiful majestic horse, dressed in his armor and matching mask.

His presence commanded attention, eyes fixed on him. "My people of the Dragon Kingdom," his voice cut through the stillness of the morning, "Today we march, but not just for our defense of our land, but for the future of our people." His eyes roamed the crowd as he took a pause. "This path that is ahead of us is fraught with danger. I know many of you may have fears and doubts. But trust in me when I say the commitment I have to our kingdom and it's people is unwavering."

His continues to gaze over the assembled crowd until it landed on you, remaining his sight on yours when he says, "We will face this challenge together," He said. You knew he meant it meant more than the war. It was also about your relationship. "I will return, not just as your King but as someone who carries the hopes and dreams of each and everyone of you within him."

The crowed roared in excitement, cheering for their ruler as they jumped and threw fists in the air. He straightens his back as he takes in the roars of the crowd. His eyes scanned one final time before looking at you once more. You mouthed I love you and watched as he nodded before lifting the rope to turn his horse. He gives his men a command as they yelled yes in unison as started marching.

You watched as they walked away, feeling a sense of sadness and pride. The crowd around you slowly starts to disperse as you watched the last of the soldiers disappearing from view, making you the only that stood there. You inhaled and exhaled remembering his words. "Everything will be okay."

-

Weeks have past since the departure and the absence of the king and his army hung over the entire kingdom. The usual liveliness and bustling of the daily life was replaced by this harsh silence in the palace. Like many others, you were trying to grasp this new reality. You would often find yourself wondering the garden late at night, not bothering to be caught.

You would walk into his chambers to keep things dust free, switching the bed sheets in case of his arrival at any moment. You would run your hands over his clothes, missing his warmth. At night you would run your fingertips over the note he had written you, or how you would fall asleep with the note clutched to your chest as you dreamt about him.

You would walk into the woods and stargaze alone, hearing the stream fill up your mind with tranquility. You wished upon stars every time you visited, wishing for protection over him and a safety return. As each passed you feel yourself going through a mixture of emotions that range between hope and lack of faith that everything will be okay.

One morning, you heard a pounding on your door causing you to jolt up in your bed. "Miss Y/N, the-" You stood up quickly as you ran to door, not hearing what the person was saying as it sounded muffled. You opened the door and saw a fellow palace worker with a smile on her face. "The King and the army is back!"

You stood in shock as your eyes widened at the news and in perfect timing, the bells rang signaling the arrival of the king. Never in your life have you gotten dressed so fast. You rushed to town, hearing the gravel underneath every step. You scanned around as you saw people forming a crowd quickly. "Excuse me. Sorry! Coming through." You repeated as you passed through and stumbled to the front of the crowd.

Your heart flutters at the sight of the army marching in with Yeosang in the center as he looks bloodied and hurt. The crowd roars with cheer as they seem approaching into town. You see as the palace workers rush to tend to the army and your feet didn't stop you as you ran to Yeosang. You watched as they helped him off, taking his first steps to you all wobbly causing you to grab his arm, placing it over your shoulder as you became his support while you two walked. "I told you I would come back." He whispered with a tired voice as a lazy smirk painted on his lips behind the mask.

-

You dumped the bucket full of warm water, lifting your arm sleeve as you placed your arm inside to check the temperature. You removed it shaking your arm to remove the excess water, "All prepared for you." You say as you turned to him and gasped when he removed his mask. "What are you doing?" You whispered at him as you tried moving the mask back to his face.

He moves your hand away and cupping your face, eagerly kissing you, "I missed you." He whispers to you, kissing you with so much love that you melt in touch. But you break the kiss, looking back the door, "Someone can walk-"

"I'm the king. No one will touch that door unless I say so." He cuts you off, thumb caressing your cheek. You gulped at how those words made your knees weak. He kisses your forehead and smirks at you, "I'll call you when I am done bathing."

-

You sat up straight when you heard Yeosang calling your name from inside the room. You knocked and heard a gentle come in. Your heart was beating up to your ears when you see him standing, giving his back to you as he adjusted the pants around his waist, tying up the strings.

Your eyes then capture the red scratches, bruises that was marked all over his body. He turned around with a smile but slowly dropped when he saw your teary eyes. His eyes followed your sight as he looked down and saw the the markings. He looked back at you, giving a small smile, "It's okay." He tells you as he walks to you.

A surge of emotions rushes to you as you choked back a sob as you covered your mouth, "My love," He cups your face, "Look at me," He tells you centering your face to look into his eyes, "Please don't cry. I promise you I'm okay."

You sniffed. "How can I not be saddened at the fact that you got hurt?" You say as your fingertips roam his arms, your eyes looking at his bruised stomach. "Your pain is my pain." You sniffed.

He stays silent as he takes a step back, eyes locked on yours. You watched as he turns around, head turning to the side, "Can you..." he pauses, inhaling and exhaling, "Can you touch my back?" He asked you in a whisper.

Your eyes slightly widened at his request. Your mind flashes back to when you accidently grazed it. "I won't hurt you." He said, "I promise." You were still for a second before slowly taking a step forward. You raised your hand, hovering over his back. You exhaled as you gently placed it on his back. You feel him stiffen up as he let out a shaky breath feeling your hand roaming his back, tracing his scars, finger tips grazing the bruises.

"When I first became King," He said with a slight tremble in his voice. He was trying to replace the the brutal touches with your delicate ones. "I had to undergo brutal training. One of the training methods was to not let pain affect me during a fight which involved getting beaten with a stick." He explains to you and you gasped in shock. "In order for me to succeed, I had to stand still. No reaction."

Your hands froze as tears streamed down your face. "My father thought it was a method to show endurance, resilience, and emotional control." You shook your head as you leaned your forehead on his back, placing your hands on his waist, sniffing. "A horrible way to get you to detached you from physical discomfort. One day my father got tired of me failing and took matter into his hands, causing the scar across my back."

You placed a sweet, lingering kiss on his back. He drops his head and you feel his shoulders shaking. You moved in front of him as you lifted his face to look at him. "I'm so sorry for all the pain you endured." You tell him as you two shared tears. No one spoke a word as you two fell onto your knees, you hugged him tightly as he cried into your chest as you comfort him. "For as long as I'm here. I will do all I can to protect you." You tell him as you ran your hand through his hair.

For the first time in his life, Yeosang is no longer crying alone. He has someone he can lean on. He has someone.

-

After the moment you two shared, you had helped him get dressed for the night of celebration. You stood along side him as he sat upon his throne. The atmosphere was different- townsfolks were singing and dancing amongst each other, some clanking wooden cups as liquor spilled out as the laughed, beautiful music coming from instruments. Everything felt right. Minus one thing- what will become of your relationship.

But it's as if your thoughts were heard when you watched Yeosang standing up, raising his hands as the festive energy momentarily hushed down. "My people," He spoke, "Tonight we celebrate those who fought bravely in battle." You watched as people raised their cups. "As well as the end of conflict of hundreds of years. From here on out, this is a new journey for our kingdom. Throughout this voyage, I have discovered many things."

He looks at his advisors who offered a subtle nods of encouragement and approval. "It is with a full heart that I must share with you all," His gaze returns to the crowd, a smile on his face behind the mask. "I have fallen in love with a beautiful woman." The crowd erupts with surprised gasps and whisperings. "But this love is not bounded by the traditions of nobility. The woman who holds my heart is not of noble birth. She is a commoner."

You tried your hardest to not show any reaction. You licked your lips as you looked down, clearing your throat. You then looked back up as you bit your tongue to focus on that pain to try and not smile because there was no way your relationship was accepted by the advisors? How did that even happen? You watched as the crowd stirred with curiosity and murmurs. "I choose not reveal her name nor face, not out of secrecy but to ensure her safety. I know her position as a commoner makes her vulnerable and I wish to protect her from any undue attention and scrutiny."

He takes a deep breath as he continues. "The values we hold dear and the future changes we will embrace in this kingdom are inspired by the person I love. It is my hope that this will lead us to a better future where every individual is valued for who they are, not for their status."

With that finishing note, the crowd cheers for the new version of this king. They sense a positive change in him, making them radiate happiness throughout this festival. From the distance, Yeosang spots the old lady from the cart to who waves and bows at him to which is returns a nod in her direction as he turns to sit back upon his throne.

He calls to you and you bend forward, "Meet me in my chambers." and you felt yourself freeze.

-

Here you were. In his chambers. And to say you were nervous was an understatement as you walked and forth in the center of the room as you wiped your sweaty hands on your clothes. You then hear footsteps outside which causing you to look at the door as it opens up revealing Yeosang.

He swiftly removes his mask and drops to the floor as you two run closed the distance to each others embrace, sharing a sweet kiss. You pulled bac with a smile on your face. "I-Wha-How-" You two laughed at the fact that you couldn't even speak. "How did you even convince the advisors? When did you talk to them? What did they say?" You bombarded him with questions.

He smiled as you two gently swayed side by side in love. "Let's just say I have my many ways." Basically when the advisors were going to deny him, he went full berserk mode. He explained how he is the king and he has the right to change laws as he wished, he has the right to love whomever it was, and plus he threatened to show his face but that made everyone drop to their knees and begged for forgiveness. Maybe being ruthless came in hand for certain things. "I told you I would do anything for you." He tucks your hair behind your ear.

"That you did." You smiled at him. His eyes shifted to your lips as he leans in and captures them. Your hands snaked up his arms they tugged the back of his head, feeling this kiss starting to heat up. He backs away, "May I?" He asks you as you franticly nodded, wanting his touch again.

He kisses you again as his fingertips trail from your jaw to between your breast. The slight touch makes you gasp slightly as he undies the front of your robe. He backs up slightly, both of you softly panting from the intense kiss as his hands slide into your robe, sliding your clothes of your shoulders, feeling his rough hands on your arms.

The air hits your exposed skin, your nipples harden at the cold. He kisses you once more, his hand reaching to the back of your hair as he tugs it back, exposing more of you neck as he trails his lips down causing you to moan at the sensation of the pulling and kisses. You kicked your robe that was pooled around your feet as he guides you to his bed, his mouth sucking a sweet spot on your neck.

When the bed it the back of your knees, he gentle pushed you down as he hovers over you, "You're so beautiful." He says lowly, planting a kiss right above your nipple causing you bit your lip. "I'm a lucky man." He tells you as he starts to suck your nipple as his free hand slightly pinched the other one. Your chest heaves at the feeling, throwing your head back.

He looks up at you, mouth still latched, groaning at the sight. He lets go as his lips traveled further down your stomach, causing you to clench onto nothing. He position himself between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs as he hooks his fingers at the side of your silky soaked panties. He took his time in taking them off, biting his lower lip at the glistening sight.

The way the moonlight made your body glow looked so heavenly. Watching how your juices shine as he peppers kisses along your thighs, inching closer and closer. You felt your eyes dilate as your mouth parts when he started to suck on your clit. He lets his tongue slide between your folds before returning to suck your clit.

You arched your back when you felt his fingers rubbing on it, grabbing his hair when he shoved his tongue in and out of your hole. "Oh." You moaned out. His fingers swiftly moved into you as he went back to sucking on your clit. "Oh, oh right there!" You moan out, grabbing the the bed sheets. You buckled your hips up, only for him to hook his free arm underneath your thigh, holding you in place.

You were a whimpering mess when he quickened the pace, feeling the slight burn of the stretching he gave you. His tongue was flattened between your folds as he moved his head up and down, soaking in all your juices. "I- oh- Please-" You couldn't even comprehend words right now.

He hovers over you, fingers still at work. "Please what, my love?" He asked you as he leans down to suck of your neck some more, trailing down to your nipple. The sensation sent you on a overload of pleasure. "I need you." You cried out between the moans. He smirks at the sight of you as he removes his fingers, quickly getting up, undressing himself.

You propped yourself on your elbows, your mind a haze as you watched him remove his clothing. He teasingly took of his underwear, eyes widening at the size of him. He walks back to you, hooking his arms underneath your thighs as he drags you closer to him. He leans down, "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked you and you nodded, giving him a kiss. "I've never been more sure."

His eyes stayed locked on yours as he teasingly rubbed the head between your folds, lathering it up with your juices for a smooth glide in. He then positioned himself aligned with your hole, slowly going in. You gasped at the burning sensation, mixed with pain and pleasure. You gripped at arms for dear life with every movement he did. "Slowly, Yeo." You tell him. With every move, he waits for you to give the signal to move.

Once he is fully in, you stay there for a moment to adjust to his size. Feeling tears coming in from the pain and he wipes them away as he kisses your lips. "You're doing so good, my love. You feel so, so good." He praises you. "No one can make me feel how you make me feel." He kisses your cheeks, caressing your hair. You exhale, "Yeosang," You call to him, "I'm ready."

He lifts your leg, wanting to feel them both wrapped around him as his other one supports him as he hovers over you. He slowly thrusts in and out of you, groaning at the tightness around him. The way you suck in him, makes him want to lose control. Little by little the pain is gone and replaced with just pleasure.

You moan at the way he stretches you out so good. "Faster, please." You tell him as you clench around him. "Are you sure?" He asks you. "Do it." You tell him, sounding impatient causing him to chuckle at you, "Whatever my lady wants, she get's." He says as he places his hands behind your knees as he lifts your legs over you, giving you what you want.

You screamed at the new depth of pleasure this position gave you. "Tell me, how does it feel?" He asked you in between breaths. "I- Oh- So-o go-good." You try speaking out but it was no use, you were gone. You grabbed the sides on the pillows near you head as you bit your lip down, muffling your screams. Yeosang loved this new view of you, struggling to maintain your composure as your breast bounced with each thrust. "Touch yourself." He said.

"What?" You breathed out as you looked at him. "Touch yourself for me." He repeated. One of your hands let go on the pillow as you trailed it down your stomach to your clit. You rubbed yourself, jolting in the overwhelming pleasure it gave you. "Yeosang, I think I'm- I'm close-" you cut yourself off with a moan. "Me too Y/N." You loved the way he said your name in that deep tone.

He lets go of your legs, making you gasp in shock with the sudden movement as he hovers over you once more. "Finish with me, my love. I know you can do it." He tells you as you nodded, hands gripping onto his shoulders. Soon enough you felt as if a knot undid itself. You moaned out, feeling like you're seeing white from this overwhelming feeling. He leans down and kiss you as he swallows your moans, moaning into yours as as he cock twitches at his release.

Slowly he rides out both of your highs, laying down on top of you as your hands take home in his hair. Both of your hot, sweaty, sticky bodies, but you both didn't care. You felt as if you were in heaven right now.

_

The morning light shined into the chamber, causing you to groan as you used your hand to cover your eyes. You heard a chuckle in-front of you. You parted your fingers, looking through them and saw Yeosang sitting his bench, back leaning against wall with his arms crossed. "What are you doing up?" You asked him as you slowly sat up, bringing the sheets up to cover your chest. He stands up and walks to you, cupping your face, "I wanted to watch you sleep. You looked beautiful."

You smiled at him, "Why don't you join me?" You asked him as you pulled him towards you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you kissed him. He smiled into the kiss, "I love you." He said. "I love you more." You responded.

-

He was propped up on one arm as his other one caressed your arm, watching you sleep again. He smiled brightly looking at the rose hairpin he was able to place in your hair without waking you up. He throws his arm over you and brings you closer to his embrace. For the first time in his life, he was happy.

THE END

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 10: Poseidon, God Of The Sea]

A/N: Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥰💜

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 7.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

It’s Friday, November 1st, and it begins like every day does: with you sneaking a birth control pill and swallowing it with a handful of cool water from the sink. Aemond is usually gone before you wake up—writing speeches, reading newspapers, strategizing with Otto and Criston and Sargent Shriver—but you always lock the bathroom door just in case he reappears. You’ve popped the tiny pink pills out of their circular packages and hidden them in hollowed-out tampons, each opening sealed with cotton balls. You don’t like taking the pills; you don’t fully understand how they work, and you don’t like feeling out of tune with your body’s own rhythms, but they are infinitely better than the alternative. You can’t imagine having to carry Aemond’s child now, sacrificing your comfort, your health, your future, your life for a man who doesn’t know the real you and doesn’t want to. You return the modified tampon to the box you keep in the linen closet, then begin to pin up your hair.

When you venture downstairs, you’ve thrown on a long flowing floral skirt and chunky black sweater, black flats, small unceremonious gold hoops in your ears. You’ll have to change before the journalists arrive to fawn over the children as they bake homemade apple pies this afternoon. You’ll have to wear whatever Aemond tells you to. But presently, it’s Aegon you’re looking for; you begin with the basement.

He isn’t sprawled across his futon, he isn’t lazing on the floor. He isn’t there at all. As you stand on the steps, you see only Eudoxia, muttering irritably in Greek and crawling around on her hands and knees as she picks globs of red out of the shag carpet.

“What is wrong with him?” she says when she glances at you. “Can you believe this? Melted candle wax everywhere. He is a pig. A pig! Someone should make bacon out of him. Then he could finally be useful. He’s just about fat enough. He could feed the whole family, and all the dogs too.”

You don’t know how to reply; you can’t apologize for helping to make the mess, you can’t agree that Aegon is a plague and nothing more. “Do you want help cleaning up?”

“If Aemond saw me putting you to work, I would be deported back to Tyrnavos.”

“No, Doxie. Asteria would fall into the sea without you.”

She peers up at you through fallen strands of her hair, dyed a palpably artificial pitch black. Then she grins, large doughy cheeks, crinkles around her eyes. “Go help Aemond win his election.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say dutifully, and head back upstairs.

In the living room, Aemond and Otto are hissing like snakes as they leaf through the Wall Street Journal. The newspaper reports that Nixon’s poll numbers are climbing in this crucial eleventh hour. They can’t decide if that’s true or if the Wall Street Journal, a Nixon-friendly publication, is trying to give him a little extra momentum as Election Day approaches. Criston nods at you from where he sits on the couch, looking exhausted, dark shadows around his eyes and shoulders slumped low; Aemond and Otto don’t notice you at all. You keep moving.

There is chatter and giggling and the clanging of bowls and pans in the kitchen. You peek inside from the doorway. Fosco, Helaena, and the nannies are making pancakes with the children. Butter sizzles, spatulas scrape, bubbles appear in wells of batter. Helaena is lifting Evangelos so he can pour a cupful of smooth, milky batter into one of the pans on the stovetop. Cosmo, drizzling maple syrup over an ambitiously tall stack of pancakes, waves at you. You smile and wave back. In the corner of the room, Ludwika is smoking one of her Camels and shooing away Aegon’s second-youngest son Thaddeus, whose fingers are covered with flour.

“Please take your paws elsewhere,” Ludwika says, flicking ashes into the kitchen sink. “This dress is Prada.”

Fosco spots you. “Would you like some pancakes?” he asks as he approaches, wiping his palms on the apron tied around his slim waist. Flour dusts his eyeglasses. “We have enough batter to make about 500. Although I cannot promise they will not be burnt. Our chefs are rather inexperienced.”

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.” You take one last look around the kitchen, wondering where Aegon could be.

Fosco understands. His voice drops low and discrete. “I have not seen him this morning.”

“He isn’t usually up yet.”

“He’s not, this is true.” Fosco taps his chin, leaving white dabs of flour there. “Maybe he’s sailing?”

“Maybe. I’ll check.”

“And I have no idea where you’re going or why,” Fosco says with a wink before returning to the stove.

Outside it’s grey, misty, only 50 degrees. It would be a bad day for sailing. The wind rips at your clothes and your hair like a man’s lustful hands; the waves are choppy and treacherous. You think of Icarus plummeting into the ocean, of Andromeda being offered as a sacrifice to assuage Poseidon’s wrath, of sirens beckoning doomed sailors. From where you’re standing in the backyard of the main house, shivering with your arms crossed over your chest, you can’t see Aegon’s boat Sunfyre bobbing in the rough surf. You turn left to investigate Helaena’s withered garden.

As you walk, the hem of your skirt dragging dead autumn leaves, you skim your fingertips over the evergreen emerald hedges, cool and damp. At the center of the garden—like a diamond in a wedding ring, like the sun surrounded by its planets—you don’t find Aegon smoking a joint or napping under Zeus’s shadow, only a silent stone circle of gods who watch you with unmoving, all-knowing eyes. You spin slowly, studying each of them, deities who loved and cheated and offered mercy and cursed and killed. From his gurgling fountain in the middle of the clearing, Zeus glares at you most fiercely, wielding his lightning bolts, aching to loose them. The wind rattles the leaves of the hedges; crows caw from somewhere out in the mist.

“Oh! You’re here, darling?” Alicent says from the arched doorway cut into the greenery. She’s pushing Viserys in his wheelchair. Sparse white spiderweb-strands of hair hang limply from his head, mottled with liver spots. His fingers are bony and clawlike. “In this awful weather?”

You scramble for an explanation. “I just, um, needed some quiet.”

“Yes, the children are very rambunctious this morning, aren’t they?”

“Children?” Viserys echoes, as if he is only just learning of them.

“Your grandchildren,” Alicent reminds him. “Aegon and Helaena’s kids. Orion, Spiro, Violeta, Thaddeus, Cosmo, Daphne, Evangelos, and…” Panic crosses her face. She realizes she’s forgotten one, but she doesn’t know who.

“Neaera,” you say.

“Of course. Such a sweet girl, gentle like a lamb.”

You weren’t blessed with that sort of disposition. Sometimes you wish you were. Life seems easier for women who don’t feel bitterness or forbidden ambition, who pain moves cleanly through like clear water. They have no thorns for it to snag on and grow roots into the bones, the soul. They are never at risk of becoming poisonous like Jupiter’s moon Io. “What brings you to the garden on a day this dreary?”

“I feel close to them here,” Viserys rasps.

You stare down at him, baffled. “Close to who, sir?” You rarely interact with the ailing patriarch of the Targaryen family. He is often confined to his bedroom, attended by Alicent and Eudoxia and his nurses, and even when he is physically present his mind is sluggish, alien, impenetrable. Now Alicent’s eyes are downcast, and she drifts away to inspect the statue of Poseidon, a formidable bearded man holding a trident and with dolphins and sea turtles emerging from the waves of white marble at his bare feet.

“I left them back in Greece,” Viserys says, his gaunt face vacant, distant, vaguely sad. He is bundled up in a thick wool robe that hides how skeletal he has become. “I thought about having them brought over to be interred at the mausoleum, but it felt wrong to disturb their bones. Now I cannot visit their graves. I can only hear them here, among the gods our ancestors worshiped.”

“Who…?”

“Aemma and Rhaenyra,” Alicent tells you from where she now stands by Aphrodite, gazing longingly at the goddess of love. You notice that she is clutching a komboskini in one hand; she must believe that what her husband is saying is blasphemy, but she doesn’t condemn him. “Viserys had a wife and daughter before he met me.”

You feel a sudden and overwhelming stab of grief for the old man; you are thinking of Ari. “What happened?”

“The sea took them,” Viserys explains. “A riptide off the coast of Euboea. We found their bodies three days later.”

“Oh God. I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss.” You don’t know what else to say; it’s too disastrous, too unspeakable.

“Aemma was pregnant. It was a boy. She delivered him in the water, a coffin birth.” And you know from his face, his voice, that Alicent and her children never stood a chance, that Viserys has only one true family, only one set of names carved into the scarlet chambers of his failing heart. You think of Aemond’s heart, claimed by Alys and her son; you think of your own.

“They’re at peace, Viserys,” Alicent says. “They are in heaven with my mother and Ari and Mimi.”

He continues, as if he hasn’t heard her: “I thought that if I made something of myself in America, if I helped contribute something incredible to the world, then they would not have died for nothing.” Viserys reaches out with trembling, gnarled hands, and when you realize he wants to hold yours you let him. His grasp is weak and cold. “Aemond will be president. He will save countless lives, he will save this nation’s soul. And you have made that possible.”

Where’s Aegon? Is he okay? Why is no one else ever looking for him? “Thank you, sir.”

Viserys begins hacking, doubling over in his wheelchair, and Alicent hurries to soothe him and provide a handkerchief that Helaena embroidered green spiders onto. When he has recovered, you leave them with the gods: Viserys to grieve his old life, Alicent to mourn the one she never had.

You plod through sand dunes out to the Atlantic Ocean, peering into the fog as you search for Aegon’s sailboat. Still, there is no sign of him. You glance back towards the main house as sea spray peppers your cheeks and your knuckles. You’re beginning to get nervous. Where the hell is he? Is he passed out somewhere, is he sick, is he hurt?

And then, at last, you see him: sitting at the bottom of a small bluff so he is invisible to anyone not at the water’s edge, arms linked around his bent knees, not smoking, not drinking, not gulping pills, just gazing out into the waves that thrash and rumble beneath a grey sky, his too-long blonde hair whipping in the wind. He wears one of Daeron’s army jackets over a white turtleneck sweater, ripped jeans, no shoes, a collection of other men’s dog tags slung around his neck.

“Hey,” you say as you join him, dropping down onto the cool, crumbling sand.

Aegon smiles. “Hey.”

“It’s strange to see you awake before noon.”

“Yeah…I didn’t really sleep.” No, he didn’t, you can tell: his eyes are bloodshot and his voice tired, husky. He is watching you, so hopeful but so afraid. “What are we gonna do?”

About us. About Aemond. “If he loses on Tuesday, I can leave him.”

“What if he wins?”

You don’t have a good answer. You shrug, avoiding Aegon’s eyes. “It’s not forever, you know? It would be four years, and then…”

“Four years?” Aegon says. “No, I can’t wait another four years. I’ve been waiting my whole life for something like this. And what if he gets a second term? Eight years? I’ll be almost fifty. We’ve already lost so much time, I can’t surrender another decade.”

“Aegon, first ladies don’t quit. It’s never happened before, not once since 1789. It’s a part of the democratic process. People aren’t just voting for Aemond, they’re voting for me too. You know that. You told me we were a package deal, and you were right. If they trust me and I walk away, it’s…it’s…it’s treason, it’s abandonment, it’s wrong. And Aemond needs to have the political credibility to get what he wants done.”

“Look,” Aegon says, like it pains him. “I get that my life is already half over, and I haven’t done anything worthwhile with the last forty years, but I want to be different. I want to be better. And I can do that, but I need you to give me a chance.”

“You think Aemond would let me leave? If I publicly humiliated and undermined him?”

“We don’t need Aemond, we could figure it out—”

“What do you think he and Otto would do to you, Aegon? They would ruin you anywhere you go, they would have you declared mentally unfit and take your children away.”

“They don’t own us!”

“They do,” you insist. “And if you try to fight them it will destroy you. You’ve never cared about strategy, and I love that you’re truthful, and I love that you’re real, but I need you to understand what you’re asking for right now.”

“But he breaks the rules,” Aegon says, and his eyes are glistening. “He has Alys. He has a kid out of wedlock.”

“Yes,” you agree softly.

“And what, I’m supposed to hope Aemond loses?” Aegon swipes tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Because that’s the only way I get to touch you? Nixon wins and more draftees get butchered in Vietnam, and Daeron doesn’t come home, and the white supremacists get to resegregate the beaches at Biloxi, Mississippi and wherever the hell else they want to, and civil rights protesters get attacked by police dogs, and teenagers get sentenced to decades in prison for marijuana possession?”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t tell him he’s mistaken about any of that. He isn’t.

“I’ve spent my whole fucking life in a cage, but I’ve never felt this powerless.”

“Aegon?”

“Yeah.”

“Am I…” It’s terrifying to ask. “Am I the same way Mimi was when she was younger? Is that why you like me?”

“No,” he says immediately. “No, you’re different than Mimi. Mimi was fun, and we could party together, and I cared about her, obviously, but…” He stares out at the ocean, shaking his head. “She wasn’t as strong as you. And she couldn’t really get to me. I feel like you could kill me if you wanted to, you could reach inside my chest any time it crossed your mind and crush me in your fist and I’d be gone.”

You stretch out your fingertips until they collide with his sweater, warm yielding flesh woven over his ribs. “Not so easy,” you say. And then Aegon smiles and he leans in to kiss you, the ocean roaring like an ancient beast, a titan, a maelstrom. The wind rakes through your hair and stings your eyes. You ask when he rests his forehead against yours, your hand on his face, your thumb stroking his cheek: “Do you wish you could go back to when you hated me?”

“Never. I’ve gotten used to not being alone.”

“The kids made pancakes. You should go have some.”

“Come with me.”

“You first. I’ll be five minutes behind you. We shouldn’t walk to the house together.”

“Why?” Aegon teases. “Because people might think we fucked in the basement last night?”

“I’ve already told them. Aemond is waiting for you in the kitchen with a bazooka.”

Aegon laughs and struggles to his bare feet, slipping on the sand. “Okay. See you soon.”

“See ya.” Once he’s gone, you recite the full length of Here’s To The State Of Mississippi in your head, then trek across the sand and through the backyard to rejoin the rest of the Targaryens.

When you open the sliding glass door, Otto is standing in the hallway. His icy blue eyes sweep from your simple black flats to your windswept hair, still pinned up but unacceptably tousled. “Why the hell aren’t you dressed for the reporters?”

“Because they won’t be here for another two hours. Surely you are well-acquainted with the itinerary that you yourself arranged.”

“Don’t get yourself in trouble, girl.”

“Remember when you used to defer to me about things? Were you stupid then, or are you stupid now?”

“Do you know what Joe Kennedy did when his daughter Rosemary threatened the family’s reputation?” Otto says, eyes glittering cruelly.

You really don’t know; you weren’t aware that JFK had a sister named Rosemary. “What?”

“He took her to a surgeon to be lobotomized. Now she’s hidden away in a little cottage in Wisconsin, can’t speak, can’t walk, with full-time nurses to wipe the drool off her face and change her diapers. How would you like that? Would your obscene little flirtation still be worth it? We could tell people that you were in a car accident or fell down the stairs. The doctors go in through the eye socket, you know. And you’re awake the whole time.”

“You can’t do that to me,” you say, shellshocked.

“Oh, if that’s what it takes, I’ll find the will somehow.”

There is shouting from the basement, and you and Otto both bolt for the staircase. At the bottom of the steps, Aegon and Eudoxia are embroiled in a ferocious confrontation, red faces, hands itching to slap and shove. Aegon roars, jabbing his index finger at her like a petulant teenager: “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room!”

“You are filthy, you leave crumbs everywhere! We will have mice!”

“Where’s the garbage?” Aegon demands. “Huh? Where’d you put it? Out by the curb?”

“It has already been picked up.”

“No, no way! That’s bullshit!”

“You’re too late!” Doxie says. “The truck went by 20 minutes ago. And why is this a problem? What precious heirloom did I steal from you? An empty rum bottle? A magazine full of naked women? Candy wrappers, cigarette ashes, melted candle wax? You live like a pig, you should not be so outraged when you are treated the same as one.”

“Aegon, what happened?” you ask. Otto is equally bewildered, surveying the markedly clean basement, his brow knitted into deep crevices.

Aegon doesn’t answer. He only glances at you—frustration, anger, but shame too—and then sighs in defeat and stomps up the stairs to the main floor of the house.

Eudoxia looks at Otto and shrugs nonchalantly. “At least there were not so many used condoms this time.”

Your gaze catches on the end table by the futon. The empty cups are gone, the ashtray is spotless…and there is no folded white corner of a receipt poking out from under it.

The math problem from Mount Sinai, you think, that relic, that talisman, that worthless scrap of paper that Aegon never wanted to talk about but kept so close to him, just like you cling to the card he gave you and Aemond cherishes his engraved Ouija board. It’s gone. It’s almost like it never happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

After the journalists arrive and the apple pies, so quintessentially all-American, are made—you help Cosmo with his job, layering strips of dough into lattice crusts that turn golden in the oven, glinting with sugar crystals like diamonds—Aemond’s retinue begins the last of their campaign stops by travelling via limousines to Philadelphia, just an hour and a half across the width of New Jersey and over the Delaware River. In your penthouse suite at the Ritz-Carlton, you soak in a bath opaque with bubbles, steam hot and dewy on your skin. Your hair is long and free. The Zenith radio out in the kitchenette is playing Tomorrow Never Knows by the Beatles.

Your hands have just slipped beneath the hot water—your skull full of Aegon, things he’s done, things he’s said—when you hear the bathroom door open behind you. You rest your arms on the spotless white rim of the tub, porcelain-enameled steel, and try not to look like you’ve been interrupted. Aemond’s footsteps cross the linoleum floor, then he kneels by the bathtub and wraps his arms around you, his long uncalloused fingers skating over your shoulder, collarbones, nipples, before linking like a long necklace. He likes you best like this, when your scar is hidden, something that might have been a nightmare or a sad story that happened to somebody else. He rests the mutilated left half of his face against the right side of yours; his eyepatch scratches against your temple. You shift uncomfortably, you can’t help it. You don’t want him touching you. His arms tighten around your ribs.

“You know, JFK’s mother went through a crisis of sorts as a young wife,” Aemond says calmly. “She realized her husband was a hopeless philanderer and tried to leave him and go back to her parents. But her father sat her down and explained that she had made a commitment. Marriage is for life, and you don’t abandon your vows when the circumstances prove difficult. So she went back to Joe. And if she hadn’t, there never would have been a John F. Kennedy, or a Bobby, or a Eunice or a Ted, or a million other things too.”

“I am so fucking sick of hearing about the Kennedys.”

“You used to love being compared to Jackie.”

“I’m not her. I’m never going to be her.”

“I’m giving up things too,” Aemond says. Now he’s combing his fingers through your hair, unraveling tiny knots, yanking at your scalp. “If I win, I won’t be able to see Alys and our son. It would be too risky, someone might catch me. For as long as I’m president, I’ll have to be apart from them. You don’t think that’s painful? But Alys understands. She knows it’s for the greater good.”

“Please stop touching me.”

“You’re mine to touch as much as I want to.”

You stare at the seafoam green wall and try to pretend you’re in another place, another year.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aemond says sympathetically, an appeasing sort of tone, like he’s trying to strike a bargain. “I’m a realist, I’m aware that I can’t keep you locked up in a basement or put you in a straightjacket for the next fifty years. That doesn’t serve either of us. If you are truly desperate to be rid of me, there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. And I require a partner who is fully committed to my cause, my legacy. Not a captive. I can’t fight Nixon and you too.”

You twist around in the tub to look at him, skeptical, amazed. Is there a way out? “So what are you offering?”

“I need you for as long as I’m president,” Aemond says. “If I win, I need you for at least four years, probably eight. And a short while after that to establish myself in retirement and fade from the headlines, another few years. But then…we could work out some arrangement that is mutually agreeable.”

The hope is so fragile, so fearful, splintering glass. “You would let me go?”

“We’d have to negotiate the details, particularly as far as our future children are concerned, but…yes. In some sense, at least.”

You can’t find any words. You don’t want to offend him, to shatter this moment. And yet the price is so steep. Four years, eight years, ten years. But then…but then…

Aemond smiles, his remaining blue eye bright and cunning. His fingertips trace the slope of your jaw. “I care so deeply for you. You are my Aphrodite, you have made my wildest ambitions possible. You will help me save this country. I am worshiped because of you, I am trusted, I am envied. No one has a wife as beloved as mine, and everybody knows it. So I feel…I’ve considered…” His hand moves down to your throat, drawing invisible chains of gold or silver. “If you’ve given me so much, I can extend some mercy in return.”

“You can’t harm Aegon,” you say. “Or take his children away, or do anything else to punish him.” And then you lie, a necessary fiction, an invention, a myth, Prometheus stealing fire to give it to humans, Zeus hiding Io from Hera. “He hasn’t betrayed you.” And he’s saved me over and over again.

“Of course I won’t harm Aegon. I need him too. This act he has now of the devoted, reformed, tragedy-besieged single father? People adore it. At this rate, I’ll be able to make him the attorney general for my second term if he uses the next four years to rack up some experience. And his children are gold mines for the photographers. They have filled the void left by our own son’s death.”

“Ari,” you say.

“What?”

“He had a name. He wasn’t just ‘a son’ or ‘our son.’ His name was Ari.”

“You’ll feel better once we’ve had others.” Aemond stands and holds out a hand to you. He’s wearing a black suit like he’s getting married, like he’s going to a funeral.

You gaze up at him, not wanting to leave the water. You belong to him, but when he touches you it feels like the earth dying when Persephone is stolen away by Hades each autumn, it feels like Eurydice’s spiderweb-fragile life evaporating when Orpheus dared to look back at her as he led her out of the Underworld. “What if I can’t get pregnant again?” you ask. “It took over a year the first time. And the surgery…what if there’s too much scar tissue, what if I’m just…just…broken?” There’s real pain in your voice that staves off any suspicion Aemond might have. You do want more children, you believe, you know; just not with him.

“Then it is God’s will. But we’ll keep trying.”

Aemond draws you out of the water like a fish from the sea, something to devour, skin and muscle, delicate bones sucked clean.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sunlight is cloudless and glaring. Leaves swirl in the brisk wind in jewel tones: gold, ruby, fire opal, honey calcite, tiger’s eye, red jasper. Aemond has just finished a speech at Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park, standing in a stone gazebo that you can’t help but think resembles a Greek temple, tall columns that house deities of love and death, oceans and fire. Alicent and Helaena have taken the children to attend the opening of a new public library on the other side of the city. The rest of Aemond’s entourage—you, Criston, Otto, Ludwika, Fosco, Aegon—are arranged in a semicircle around him on the stage. Only 50 yards away, there is a small parking lot full of police and press vehicles. Philadelphia residents have walked miles to hear Aemond speak, to glimpse him, to cheer for him, to take leaves he’s stepped on or loose threads from his navy blue suit as relics like the bones of a saint. You match him, as you always must: navy blue dress, high heels, hair neat, makeup mature and understated, gold jewelry gleaming on your ears, throat, wrist. Ravens flap their wings from the skeletal limbs of bare trees. A car radio is blaring Break On Through by The Doors.

“Senator Targaryen,” a reporter calls as flashbulbs strobe dizzyingly. “What do you think about Tommie Smith and John Carlos getting death threats for raising their fists in the Black Power salute at the Olympics in Mexico City?”

There is a split-second lull; it is a difficult question. Aemond must remain the savior of the hippies and college kids and civil rights activists, yet he must not let the old-money urban elite or suburban families mistake him for a discord-sowing radical. You and Aegon exchange a glance; Otto placed him on the opposite side of the gazebo, and this is not a coincidence. Then Aemond decides what to say. “Peaceful protests—even those that can make us confused, defensive, fearful—are not a threat to democracy,” he speaks into the microphone steadily, deliberately, commandingly. The crowd leans forward as they listen, enraptured. Journalists’ pens fly across the pages of their notebooks. “They are not the harbingers of some doomed descent into anarchy. They are a manifestation of the fact that we have already failed. Our nation has failed, our laws and our leaders have failed, and this is our chance to address those dire inadequacies. I urge every single American to listen to what Mr. Smith and Mr. Carlos have actually said about their concerns and their hopes, to be empathetic, to be honest when reflecting on what our country has achieved and yet so desperately still needs to improve upon. These men are not enemies of the United States. They are the United States. They are a part of us, and we are a part of them, and we must not allow prejudiced, ignorant voices”—he means Wallace, he means Nixon—“to draw divides between us. The harassment that Mr. Smith, Mr. Carlos, and their families have experienced is a travesty. It is something that we should expect from a fascist or communist regime, not from a democracy. And to do my small part to show my admiration for them and atone for the mistakes of this nation that I so fervently hope to make better, I would like to personally fund private security services for the households of Mr. Smith and Mr. Carlos for the foreseeable future.”

The crowd erupts into applause, cheers shouted, signs held aloft. Your eyes snag on one, clutched by a middle-aged woman bundled up against the cold; only her eyes—grey, tearful, shining like quarters—are visible above the red plaid of her thick wool scarf. On her sign is a large photograph of a young man in uniform, maybe nineteen, maybe twenty. Below the photo in red marker is written: Ryan Farrelly, my youngest son, burned to death in Phan Thiet on September 21st. Bring Daeron home! Bring them ALL home!

The woman waves at you. You raise your hand wave back. And then there is a sound that comes from everywhere, a boom of thunder, an explosion, bullets like the one that demolished Aemond’s left eye in Palm Beach back in May, a lifetime ago, a truth that has become mythology. There is something hot and sticky splattered across your face, and you can’t see; when you wipe it away with your sleeve and open your eyes, there is a hole in your palm that you can look through like a window.

Where else?

But when you check your chest, your belly, you are whole. It is only a hand would, and that won’t kill you. It doesn’t even hurt yet, though the blood runs in torrents down your arm. You peer frantically around to see if anyone else is hurt.

Aegon, Fosco, Ludwika, Criston??

People are rushing the stage to shield Aemond and his family from bullets. Police are tackling somebody in the audience and beating him bloody with their batons. Aegon is screaming and shoving through the chaos as he fights his way towards you. Otto slams him against one of the columns of the gazebo and holds him there, because Aegon is not the one who’s supposed to get to you first. Now Aemond’s arms are around you, and he is ushering you down the stone steps towards the parking lot, and Criston is running alongside him and telling Aemond that the closest hospital is Jefferson Methodist, but UPenn is better and only two miles farther.

“Who else?” you ask as you cradle your hand against your chest, blood turning your dress from navy to black. Now it hurts plenty, like waking up from your c-section, like a crimson wave that is scalding and crushing and dragging you under to be drowned. “Is anyone else—?”

“No, just you,” Criston says, a reassuring grip on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. Nobody else is hurt.”

“Senator Targaryen, this way!” a police officer is yelling, and he leads the three of you to his black and white car. Criston leaps into the passenger seat; Aemond pulls you into the back with him and slams the door. The sirens shriek and the police officer careens out of the parking lot, Criston giving directions, Aemond yanking off his suit jacket to wrap around your hemorrhaging hand.

“I’m not going to lose it, am I?” you ask dazedly. None of this seems real. You wish Aegon was here. “I need my hands.”

“No, honey. I don’t think they’ll have to amputate.” Then Aemond stares down at the blood on his palms, warm scarlet ruin, water and oxygen and iron that once pulsed in your arteries and veins and now stains him. He frowns, then wipes his hands on his white shirt until almost all the blood is gone from his skin. He is cleaning you off of him. He is readying himself for the cameras that will undoubtedly be waiting at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania.

Inside the glass doors of the building, dust motes circle in aisles of sunlight; you watch them as doctors and nurses push you towards the operating room on a stretcher.

“We’re going to take excellent care of you, Mrs. Targaryen,” a doctor says as he ties a sterile white mask over his nose and mouth.

Don’t let Ari die, you almost murmur in response; and then you remember that’s already happened.

There are needles gliding into your veins, bright lights, pain vanishing like the memory of a dream dissolving when you wake.

~~~~~~~~~~

Four hours later, you are propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows, your hand surgically repaired and bandaged, morphine in your IV drip. The doctors think you shouldn’t lose much function—the bullet was from a pistol, blessedly small in size and missing most of your major tendons and nerves—but you won’t know for sure until it’s healed. Ludwika is here with you, lounging in the chair beside your bed and flipping through a copy of Cosmopolitan with her Louis Vuitton stilettos propped up on the ottoman. She is content to be here, but this is technically a job; she has been tasked with supervising you while Aemond and Otto meet with the Philadelphia police who are investigating the attack. The rest of the family—everyone except Aegon, who you suspect has been forbidden to enter the premises—has already been here to fret over you and ask if you need anything. But you aren’t in the mood for visitors. You are stunned, and aching, and you hate hospitals. You keep thinking of tiny babies in incubators, priests in black robes.

Your room is already filling up with flower bouquets. Every few minutes, the phone rings and Ludwika has to answer it. Each time she announces who it is—“Oh, hello Lady Bird, so nice of you to offer your well-wishes!” and then looks to see if you nod, agreeing to take it. The current first lady says that you are already as beloved as Jackie Kennedy and Eleanor Roosevelt. Pat Nixon calls you a gladiator.

There is a mint green Zenith radio on your nightstand, the volume turned way down low, and a television mounted on the wall. NBC news is on, but you’ve muted it to attend to the barrage of phone calls. There is a knock on the doorframe. Aegon stands there in his khaki pants and ill-fitting viridian button-up shirt and tan moccasins, wide searching murky blue eyes, carrying a white Dairy Queen cup.

Ludwika observes him as she puffs on a Camel cigarette. “I am suddenly struck by the inspiration to spend Otto’s money at the gift shop. I hope they take American Express.” She rolls up her magazine, shoves it into her oversized Gucci purse, and clicks in her heels out of the room and down the hallway.

Aegon commandeers the chair and drags it closer to your bed so he can feel your cheeks and your forehead, so he can get a good look at you. “Hey, little Io. You hurt your hoof, huh?”

“It’s not that bad. The caliber of the bullet was really small. Who shot me? One of Wallace’s Klansmen?”

“No, just some insane guy who thinks Aemond is a Russian double agent trying to overthrow capitalism here and put us all in gulags. I heard you could see right through the wound.”

“Yeah, I had a hole in my palm.”

“Just like Jesus.”

“I guess they fixed it.”

“Messiah status revoked.” Aegon sets the Dairy Queen cup on your nightstand. “I brought you a lemon-lime Mr. Misty.”

“I need to get out of here.”

“They gotta make sure you’re okay, babe. You could spike a fever or something.”

“Aegon,” you say seriously. “I can’t be in a hospital. I need to leave.”

He understands; his voice is gentle. “I might be able to get you out tonight, okay? I’ll try. I’ll talk to the doctors.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

Aegon turns up the Zenith radio, Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl. He sings along, snapping his fingers and shimmying his shoulders, his hair shagging over his eyes:

“Hey, where did we go?

Days when the rains came

Down in the hollow

Playin’ a new game…”

Reluctantly, you give him a smile. And you think very clearly, though you don’t say it: I love you.

Aegon leans across the bed to rest his head on your lap. He says softly as you run your fingers through his hair with your good hand: “Maybe Aemond will lose.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

On the muted television, Nixon is giving a speech in Charlotte, North Carolina to a euphoric crowd. You can’t hear the people gathered there, but you know their applause are thunderous. Nixon is flashing peace signs with both hands and beaming radiantly, this man who was once so poor, tragic, ordinary, unwanted, unloved. He has learned what it feels like to be a god.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Sunday, November 3rd, and your hand hurts like hell. You swallow your pills, smiling a little. Now Aegon is getting clean and I’m the one swimming in a haze of narcotics. Who could have predicted that? Still in your robe and bare feet, you swish to the hotel bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, rebandage your hand and make sure it isn’t growing dark insidious vines of blood poisoning.

When you venture out to the kitchenette, Aemond is in a sapphire blue suit and seated at the table, reading the Wall Street Journal, his face hidden by columns of black ink and interspersed photographs. This is unusual; he should be scheming with Otto and Sargent Shriver by now.

“Everything okay?” you ask with only vague interest as you go to the refrigerator to get yourself a leftover slice of apple pie, meticulously wrapped and packed in a cooler by Eudoxia before your departure from Asteria. Aemond doesn’t answer. You plop a piece of apple pie onto a plate, return the rest to the refrigerator, and then turn to your husband. And only now do you register the newspaper’s front-page story.

The photographs, all three of them, are of you and Aegon. They are blurry, taken from a distance, but you recognize the moment immediately. You can feel it again: ocean wind in your hair, his lips on yours, your hand on his face as you willed him to be closer, healed, permanent. You are sitting at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, turbulent and perilous. The journalists must have been north of you, shrouded in mist, their camera shutters clicking feverishly. The headline reads: A Family Affair?

And you remember what Aemond said on your 23rd birthday before he left for the Washington State Convention in Tacoma, how he scolded Aegon when he saw him lighting a joint in the backyard at Asteria: You know journalists will sneak around trying to get photos. You know we’re never truly alone out here.

You can’t speak, you can’t breathe. Aemond knows. The whole world knows.

Slowly, Aemond lowers the newspaper so you can see his face, scarred and hateful and horrifying, lethal like the volcanic hellscape of Jupiter’s most cursed moon.

~~~~~~~~~~

What are my earliest memories? Aegon getting drunk on his futon in the basement while I played with toy soldiers on the green shag carpet, Aemond with his poems and his myths, Helaena letting a praying mantis creep across her knuckles, Criston teaching me how to swim and sail, my mother cleaning sand from my face and hands and giving me water to wash the grit out of my teeth, my father wandering through the doorways of Asteria like a ghost, always on the periphery of my vision, and I had the sense that if I reached out to touch him my hands would pass resistlessly through his skin and sinew like a stone through water.

These are the things I think of here in the rain-dripping darkness, bruises down to my bones, eyes swollen almost completely shut, teeth broken and throbbing like blows from a hammer, fingernails ripped out. I know Tessarion is here because I can hear her, soft sympathetic squeaks, the padding of her tiny feet. I know John McCain is still alive because sometimes he taps back through the cracked concrete wall. I have run out of folklore, so now I tell him the truth. I tell him that I am afraid each beating will kill me as my body becomes a stranger, someone weak and brittle and helpless. I tell him that all my life I wanted to run as far as I could from home, but now I would crawl back to them through razor wire, I would fall into their arms in a shredded bloodstained heap and I’d be happy to do it. Isn’t that funny? I mean, I don’t laugh much these days. But maybe you can appreciate the irony.

Has the election happened yet? Has Aemond won? I’ve lost track of the days, but it has to be getting close to November 5th. What happens if he can’t get me out? What happens if Nixon wins?

I don’t want to be a hero anymore. I don’t want to have adventures like Heracles, Achilles, Jason, Odysseus, Perseus, Orpheus, Ajax. I just want to go home. Please let me go home.

I can hear keys jangling against the lock on my cell door. My heart jolts into a breakneck, pounding rhythm; I think that sound will terrify me all my life. Some things you just can’t forget, you know? Some things dig down deep and build a home in the marrow of your bones, a rust-red cave of immutable memory. I know exactly what the communists want from me. They’ve been asking since they dragged me out of the Loach four months ago.

Everyone has a breaking point. This is mine.

[ronearoundblindly]

Midnight Kiss

Steve Rogers x reader

Just a little ditty in honor of the upcoming holiday. Warnings for suggestive language and bad puns. It's just cute, awkward, and chivalrous...until it isn't. If you couldn't deduce it from the title: they kiss lol. WC 1.5k+

He's happy to see the team having fun, but this isn't exactly Steve's 'scene.' Granted, his 'scene' flew the coop long ago, when his generation aged out of large, raucous celebrations, or rather, Steve never had any true social scene because he never really lived .

He's still trying, he swears; it's just...

really. damn. loud.

The lights are somehow too dim and too bright all at once. Everyone is happy and blitzed and dressed to the nines and leaning on the closest stable object. Any minute now, he'll bow out and call it a--

There's an ear-piercing cackle from a woman in a '2024' gold-streamered headband not two yards to his right, and she tips backwards, shoving an innocent passerby straight into his solid side.

"Sorry," you squeak, rolling your eyes because the word wasn't loud enough to shame the drunk woman beside you, but you're facing him, too, unable to see she's about to make it worse.

The woman snorts and laughs harder, toppling over because her party of friends have the reaction time of sloths, their hands full of dainty champagne flutes and mini-snacks.

Steve instinctively pulls you out of the way, his broad, strong arm wrapping your waist and pinning you to him.

"Oof," you grunt in alarm, the woman's drink spilling over your shoulder.

Hors d'oeuvres, Steve thinks sullenly, that's what people call them these days.

The woman doesn't apologize, and neither do her friends.

He counts a full five seconds before anyone in the small group even raises a hand to help the woman still giggling on the floor. Mostly, Steve is now concerned with the glass shards near your feet.

He's all for having fun, he's all for letting off a little steam, but he is not a fan of sloppiness. That's not a generational trait; that's simple courtesy.

"Ok, 'nough of this," he mutters, an itchy irritation scurrying up his body while he tries not to take over care of the woman. Instead, he checks your legs with a glance, sees the open toes of your strappy sandals, and hoists you into his arms.

He walks away from the bar, sound of crunching fading with each step, and finds a tiny bench--the only spot not occupied--where he can set you down.

Steve can't hear your shock or protest because his blood races past his ears. That was the last straw. He's annoyed now.

"Stay there," he commands, putting up a finger that gets shockingly close to touching your lips since you leaned in to speak. "I'm getting some napkins."

The bartender is oblivious, and why should he not be? The man is one of two serving over a hundred guests, give or take, for hours and hours. Steve doesn't bother getting his attention. He stretches a long arm over the bar top and grabs a stack of cocktail napkins.

It might as well be toilet paper.

He dabs and dabs at the sleeve of your dress, but the napkins dissolve and turn to damp pills. In his day, those results would make excellent spitballs to pass the time in class. They aren't so trendy on your black velvet.

"I thought this would work." He doesn't know what else to do but keep dabbing, so he anxiously continues, not noticing the precarious proximity to your chest until you put a hand on his.

You have kind eyes, he thinks, even though he can't fully make out their color in the mood lighting.

"Please, don't--" finally one of the woman's group yells over a quick sorry "--don't bother with that," you finish. "It's just a dress. You can go back to your people, Captain."

He scrunches his brow. He sometimes wants to introduce himself; he wouldn't always use his rank, but he rarely gets that luxury. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Was heading out anyway. I'll just sit a sec and then leave."

Sounds like the highlight of my night--leaving.

Instead, Steve stands to his full height and scans the busy room for any of his team. He shrugs to himself since, who's he kidding, no one will miss him if he disappears early. He's put in the appearance. He's made enough small drunk talk. Yikes, does he wish alcohol still affected him...

"I'll walk you out," he offers, careful to modulating his volume when one song abruptly ends and another starts lower.

At first, you don't take his hand, and your first two steps seem sturdy.

Then your weight crumples after a deep hiss.

Steve has you back up and carried to the bathroom in a flash. It's lit so he can actually see and muffled so he can actually hear, thank goodness.

Glass did sneak into your shoe, and it easily poked through the ball of your foot. He's so quick to find it that not one whole drop of blood has even eased out of the wound by the time he's pulling the shard out. His bare hands pinch the sizable chunk.

He's careful, slow, and gentle. He's also a touch proud that you make very little fuss, only squirming in discomfort while he works.

"All better," he says, dropping the glass into the trash bin. "We'll just wash it and...you alright?"

You're already pushing yourself off the counter top.

"You shouldn't put weight on it yet." Steve gingerly lifts your leg at the knee to keep the foot from touching the bare tile floor.

"Yeah, but--" you make a face "--you set me down in water."

Steve's eyes bug out. "I--oh gosh--so sorry, I--let me--" there are no paper towels, only an air dryer "--shit."

Defeated by modernity again, he sighs. "I just...I can get more napkins and maybe a first aid kit from--"

The crowd outside is starting to yell. They're counting, backwards, and there's no way anyone will understand what he's asking for in that chaos.

"Ten!"

Steve meets your eyes.

"Nine!"

He can see their full color now and that your dress isn't black. It's a very, very dark maroon velvet. Wetness is easily visible though, since your sleeve seems fully black at the shoulder.

"Eight!"

He points to the door. "Somebody I can get for you?"

You shake your head.

Not that he was fishing for your relationships status, but he's encouraged nonetheless.

"Seven!"

"Only me," you shrug, "braving the party for a thrill..."

"Same."

"Six!"

"How was the year?" he cracks with a smile.

You tilt your head. He's distracted by the cute gesture.

"Five!"

He stares.

"Four!"

"Not great," you admit.

Steve thinks while he stares.

"Three!"

Actually, no, that's a lie. He doesn't think; he just acts.

"Tw--"

He swoops in, big palms cradling each side of your face, soft lips pressed to yours for just an instant, but only because he wants more.

Unless tortured, Steve Rogers will never admit that he didn't plan for one instant where his tongue was not involved. He absolutely wants to taste you. He absolutely wants to own you, just for these few seconds. He absolutely wants to hear you moan in encouragement, the sound crystal clear in isolation from the party.

The roar of the crowd is soft static compared to that racing blood of his.

He pushes himself closer, his bent arms getting in his way, so Steve props up with a palm on the--oh wow, that is wet--counter. His thumb touches the soggy velvet covering your hip and thigh.

He'll buy you a whole new dress if only you lace your fingers in his hair, if only you take his bottom lip between your teeth, if only you whine just like that again.

By 'again,' he means in a few seconds, and maybe tomorrow, and, for good measure, whenever after that.

A loud thud on the door knocks him out of his lip-lock trance. It's not a single restroom, so he suspects another overly inebriated patron since no one comes through the door.

But now some sense is knocked into him, too.

He chews on his swollen lips for a moment, nervous to look up. He hopes you don't regret it, and he hopes you know that he does not, can not, and will never regret that kiss.

Your sated sigh breaks the tension after a beat. "Starting this year off right," you mutter, "at least for me..."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, glancing at the door before finally taking in your lounging form, "the gang is gonna love how I ended up in a ladies' bathroom at the stroke of midnight, necking a stranger."

You snort.

"Don't leave out the part where I was wet for you, head to toe, huh?"

Too bad the florescent lights are bright enough to show his raging red blush, but he clears his throat with a deep growl.

"They'll never believe me..."

Steve sweeps you up into his arms again.

"...unless I take you as proof...and to get a bandage, of course."

You snatch up your shoe and purse, but he won't let this Cinderella run off. You'll be right here against him all night.

"Well, go ahead and splash my other shoulder," you tease. "I can't be lop-sided."

Steve grins, already adding more and more things to list of what he'll do for you, to you, and with you. The list can include parties, too, if this is how wonderfully sweet and silly they can all be.

Happy New Year, indeed...

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp (My taglists are all jacked up again, so if you are missing from the list and/or want to be tagged, please let me know!)

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[dazed-and-confused23]

Opportunities 2

A part 2 of one of my requests a while ago.

Summary: After listening to you and Hancock fuck in the room beside his, Cooper takes your care into his own hands and puts his little daydream into reality.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings. Smut. Rough sex. Cooper isn't very nice. He was jelly. Rope play. Lil sneak peek at the end.

Masterlist

Cooper doesn't see you until the next evening when you come loping down the stairwell with,who must be, John trailing behind you. The other ghoul is handsome for their standards, and Coop already feels a mild dislike for the man. You are talking animatedly, hands gesturing this way and that, and John is all ears, listening to the smoothskin with a tiny grin on his withered lips.

Jealousy immediately surrounds him, and Cooper gnashes his teeth when you pass him by without a word, not even noticing the bounty hunter sat near the entrance. You only had eyes for the other ghoul, and Coop was not a fan.

He watches the two of you for a while, noticing the way the Mayor of Goodneighbor keeps you close to his side, one hand usually pressed to the small of your back as you laugh at some joke he spits. Cooper glares at the Ghoul dressed in red. He needed to get you away from the other man.

Cooper stands up and lopes to the bar, ordering a beer, and it's only then that you notice your traveling companion.

"Oh, Coop! This is John, I've been telling him about our adventures, " you say excitedly, and Coop grunts, gold gaze intentionally uninterested. It stings when he watches the excitement fade, and your lips turn down in a soft frown, but he isn't very happy with you at the moment.

He catches your eyes, mouth pulled into a sneer, "That's not what I heard last night."

You look at him in shock, and Coop feels even more like a dick, but it's not like he can take the words back. The mayor narrows his black eyes, and the hand on your waist tightens.

"Woah now, no need for that. We're all friends here," John drawls and gets a withering glare in return. He's about to pop off with something else when the smoothskin speaks up.

"It's okay, John. Cooper and I should probably talk anyway."

You had thought a lot about what happened last night and realized that if Cooper didn't want you like you wanted him, then you would apologize for the constant jabbering you had put him through. John gives your waist a gentle squeeze as you stand up.

"Alright, Sunshine. Don't leave me hangin'."

You grace Hancock with a kind smile and then slip out of your stool. Cooper leaves his beer behind as he follows you back up the stairs of the Third Rail and over to Hotel Rexford. Once inside the bounty hunter's room, you wring your hands in front of you as you stand before him.

"I'm sorry for bothering you so much about the - uhum- sex stuff. I won't do it anymore."

Cooper watches you, face impassive as you apologize, even though it should be him instead. He says nothing, and you stare at him with growing nerves and wonder why he wasn't saying anything. You laugh, the sound high pitched and wrong.

"Anyway~ I just wanted to say sorry, so I'll leave you alone now. We, uhm, we don't even have to travel together anymore if you don't wanna."

The ghoul finally reacts, and it's not in the way you expect. Cooper grabs you by the arm and spins you around, turning you towards the bed and shoving your face first against the mattress. He slots himself behind you, kicking your legs open and leaning over you to snarl in your ear.

"I don't want your fuckin' apologies, girl," He spits, tone dripping in jealous arousal, "I want you to scream my name like you did his last night."

Your breath comes in quick pants, and you angle your face up to peek at Cooper. The ghoul looks furious with arousal, and you can feel the hard length of his cock pressed between against the cheeks of your ass. A bolt of pleasure zings up your spine, but you can't help the sting of resentment.

"You only want to fuck me cause you over heard John and I the other night. Why the change?" You demand, but Cooper doesn't answer you. Instead, the bounty hunter has grabbed both of your wrists, pulling them up to sit in the middle of your back as he ties them together with a length of rope pulled from his belt.

Cooper isn't about to admit to his jealousy the other night and instead tightens the rope around your wrists, hips pressing into the thickness of your thighs and ass.

"You want me to fuck you or not, sweet thing?" He demands and slips a hand between your legs, pads of his fingers rubbing harshly against your clothed clit. You hiss, and dig your face into the mattress even as your body falls open for the ghoul as if it was made for him.

"Consent is important, sweetheart," Cooper snarls and flicks the button of your jeans open. His cock aches in his pants, and he wants to see you stuffed full of his cum. He wants to hear you say his name like that you had John's last night.

"Please fuck me, Coop," you plead, broken as easily as a two hundred year old light bulb. You've wanted your traveling companion for too long to be stubborn about it. You wiggle your hips to try and get your pants off quicker, desperate for him.

Cooper laughs and curls his fingers under the waistband, then jerks them down to bunch up around your boots. He pulls his belt open and hisses when his cock meets the humid air of the hotel room. He strokes his dick, squeezing at the base as he smooths up. Cooper leans forward and rubs the head of his cocks across your wet folds, and you push back.

"I should make you wait. Make you beg for it after goin' to someone else like you did," Cooper snarls hotly, and presses forward, just enough to split you.

"What was his cock like, sweetheart? I can promise mine will be fuckin' better."

Your eyes roll up and back into your head when the ghoul suddenly slams home. You huff and puff, hands flexing and wrist chaffing from the rope around your wrist. His pace is brutal, and his length drags along the fluttering walls of your pussy.

Cooper snarls behind you, hands digging into the meat of your hips as he pulls you back into his thrusts. You are tight, vice like and fucking perfect. The sounds the two of you make are sloppy, and your cheek heat up at the thought of someone else over hearing the two of you.

Behind the door, Hancock listens to the other ghoul fuck you until he has you howling his name, the sounds of sex loud and obscene as Cooper fills you up and keeps going until he's hard again, teeth bared as you whine and slobber into the sheet. John finds himself envious, but he isn't sure who of.

The major leaves with a smirk and a pep in his step. There would be other opportunities to speak with the bounty hunter.

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Elysium - Chapter 1

General Marcus Acacius x Reader

In Rome, three things are known. War must be won. Caesar is supreme. And women are useless if not bred and wed. Though you have been shielded from this longer than most, your clock has run out. You must be wed lest you be exposed to a life of poverty. You need a husband. And the General needs a bride.

A/N Hi Friends!!! I know the hype died down… but I’m still on it I’m sorry!!! Anyway I kinda miss this space. Hope you all are doing well!!! All my love!! -Mo

Before I was truly able to understand such things, I watched my father marry his second wife, Alba.

My mother died giving me life, and my father grieved for her for the first seven years of my little life. My tiny heart knew only of harsh words and tear filled apologies for those first seven years. But when Alba came, becoming the second wife, she became my first mother. The first soft smile and soft hand I knew.

I remember so clearly that day, when I snuck into Alba’s room to watch her prepare for her marriage to my father. We had only met each other once before, the morning she was promised to my father. She saw my timid eyes behind the door, and she laughed before calling me in.

Her laugh sounded like bells on a ceremonial horse. Light, tingly on my skin, and a harbinger of celebration. Her skin was , and still is, soft as silk and fragrant of rich lavender. She was draped in white linens and dripping in gold, with pearls strung in her hair.

She picked me up to put me in her lap, even though I was keenly aware of the wrinkles I would give her. She gently put a stray hair back behind my ears, “Thank you for letting me be your mother child. I want you to know that I am honored to care for you and your father in this life.”

Their wedding ceremony was a simple affair. I stayed close to Alba’s side, and never strayed far from either her or her friends who came to the wedding. I watched my father, who smiled and laughed when needed, but I could still tell there was an underlying ache. An ache which he would later… many years later… confess that he was worried about how I would respond to Alba… and if I would ever forgive him for the grief he allowed to eat him alive.

Alba was the perfect mother. An even better friend and wife to my father. She has actively campaigned for an extension of my maiden hood, to allow me to study and be youthful, to have those days she couldn’t have. And I thanked the Gods for a mother to take care of me for my time on earth.

In the garden, behind the grand house of my father, my mother Alba tended to wonderful flowers. Like diamonds they glittered amongst the vines and shady leaves. My father was never a man for many words, but he took care to bring back a plant from any foreign lands he visited on a campaign. Even if they couldn’t be planted, it was the sweet smile that Alba gave him that was medal and honor enough. I would often sit with Alba, reading to her as she tended to her garden, the fruits and flowers and herbs that created a beautiful tableau of creation. Alba could not read… she was not permitted to… and perhaps that was why she sweetly and quietly championed for my education to my father, placating him with sweet words and touches when he worried about my lack of marital prospects.

Now, Alba is not as youthful as when she came into our home. Her jet black hair has a small streak of gray, framing her soft face. There’s small creases in the corner of her eyes when she smiles and laughs. She is somehow more beautiful than ever before. But in recent months, she looks more somber…contemplating… wondering.

And it is in our daily strolls in her gardens, when she grabs my hand, stopping in the farthest corner, “Little dove… we have always been honest with each other yes?”

I pause, having to look down due to her short stature. “Yes mother, of course. Have I done something to upset you?”

She shakes her head vehemently, “No never my dove. But, there is something your father had asked me to keep from you but, I do not think I can any more. Not from you.”

I sit on one of the stone benches placed in the garden, “Mother, please, speak plainly. Are you ill? Is father ill?”

Alba looks around, seemingly checking for prying eyes in the garden, before turning to me, “Your father… he has-“

I hear my father’s booming voice from across the way, from the house. My head and Alba’s whips up, to see my father. Imposing and strong, with his large beard, threaded with silver and black. Beside him, stands a man who I’ve seen many more times in the past few months. General Acacius, one of the most decorated generals in the history of Rome, has become a frequent phantom in my father’s house. He has never said anything, or done anything more than nod at me when I pour his wine at the direction of father. When I play the lyre in the corner of the room, I feel his heated eyes on me , making me flush and sweat. He is handsome. Certainly. But he is more terrifying. He does not have the booming voice of your father. Rather it is the terse nature, the breadth of his form, and the low rumbling of his voice is what makes me gaze at him quietly, guarded and wondering.

Alba nods at me, single handedly holding a dam of secrets, close to breaking. We make it to the steps, and I am keenly aware of the subdued finery of General Acacius. I bow my head, “General Acacius, thank you for blessing my father’s house once more. It is good to see you. “

He bows his head, “It is an honor to be received here my lady. The blessing is mine… to see you.”

My head shoots up, unladylike entirely but the sudden lack of air that makes me want to claw at my neck. Something is wrong. Alba is gripping my father’s wrist and my arm. My father nods, “Let us go into the atrium, wine is served for our purposes today.”

General Acacius offers his arm, and I can’t help but feel I’m being brought to the slaughter. I’m lead to the atrium. There on the table, wine, fine cups, and jewelry. I am seated next to Alba, facing my father and the General. My father leaned forward, grasping my mother’s hand, “Smile child. This is a joyous day.”

I look to the General, who does not seem to share such a sentiment. To my father I say, “Forgive me father… I must be ignorant to the day.”

My father speaks, “It’s the day of your engagement, the eve of your marriage.”

I feel heat rush up my neck. The sweat beginning to trickle down my back. Marriage? To..

“My lady. This is indeed a rushed courtship. You will want for nothing. I have brought bracelets and pearls indicative of my intentions and surety.”

I glance at the table carrying wine. And surely… I have never seen such finery. It’s even more beautiful than the treasure of my mother’s. I look tentatively at the

General, trying to calm my heart, “General Acacius… I am flattered and honored by your gifts… but I did not think you knew me other than my ability to play music or pour wine.”

“Silence Child.”, my father booms, though I do not even look at him. General Acacius puts his hand up, “Peace Old Friend. Your daughter is right. And surely she is not a child anymore,” he turns to me, dark eyes boring into me, “… and she is right. I had yet to make my intentions known till this afternoon. My apologies.”

He shifts in his seat, as if adjusting his fighting stance, “My friend, and my lady, may I have a moment with my bride alone?”

My father and Alba nod standing to leave. My father nods at me, Alba kissing my cheek. They walk arm in arm out into the garden, leaving the General and I alone, save for the two servants in the corner. General Acacius moves with an otherworldly grace to stand beside my own lectus, “May I?”

I nod gently, keeping my eyes trained on his form, taking note of every move. Though I can hardly stand it. Like looking into the night lamps for too long. He commands the air around him, and suddenly I feel like I am lounging on his throne. He faces me, palms facing upward as if holding an offering for me to inspect.

“My lady. I wish to apologize. I did not make my intentions known to you before this day.”

Before I can reign it back into my chest my voice tumbles out, “You’re in need of a breeding mare Dominus?”

I snap my mouth shut, with my eyes bulging wide. To my horror and relief, a small smile shows itself on his face, causing creases in his eyes, a chuckle is coughed out. “Your father said you were a handful, I’m glad to see he wasn’t exaggerating.”

He faces me more, looking for my steeled facade to crack, “My lady… I am not here simply for children. I am reached an age of maturity where my lack of wife is troubling to my advisors and staff. I am in need of a wife to manage my properties. A intelligent person who I can trust. And… your father has described to me that you have yet to find a husband.”

My shoulders straighten out, a feeble attempt at taking up more space on this shared lectus. “Do you think I need a husband Dominus?”

“Would you rather I lie to you for your comfort?”

“No.”

“Rome will one day see no need for a woman to be married. I’ve known many a woman to be more competent than the men around her. Even I. But unfortunately… Rome has not seen that yet.”

A beat. A breath. General Acacius sighed, “I do not think you need me. Not really. If this was a different world. But as it stands… I need a wife for stability and you need a husband for security.

My lady… you will want for nothing in my house. The grounds, yours. The staff, yours. The title, yours. My wealth, yours. Continue to study in my house, and use your education to manage the house and money how your see fit. All I ask, is that you be loyal to my house.”

I feel a big swoop in my chest, like I’m standing on the ledge of a great precipice. I feel my skin on fire. Though he is this great man, a most decorated general… he kneels before me. He needs a wife.

I did not envision a husband for myself. I imagined myself passing under the eyes of any man who came across me, covered in a gossamer veil of anonymity. I did not ask for love. I did not ask for a husband. In the corner of the room, I see my father staring intently.

I may not want to be married. But I will be. One man or another. Rome does not deal with unmarried women.

General Acacius turns, and sees my father. He turns back to me. His voice rumbling like a summer storm, “The burden will be light. Though I cannot force your hand.”

Burning embers stare from behind thick lashes. I slide my hand into his waiting palms, “I accept your offer Dominus. May our union be merry.”

His whole body slackens, closing his eyes for rest that finally seemed to come. He reached to the box, pulling out a golf arm band, engraved with laurels and a mighty horse. He presents it to me, “The symbol of my house. Wear it, and all will know you are the focus of my eyes.”

I nod, and I gasp at his touch caressing up my arm. As if I am made of glass he slides the arm band up, cool and firm. Though I stare at the band and its subtle richness, I feel his piercing gaze on my face. I whisper, “Thank you Dominus.”

He stands, gently beckoning me to stand, my hands in his. General Acacius presses my knuckles to his lips, the softness surprising me, “Thank you.”

My mother and father approach, my father joyous and self satisfied at his match. My mother embraced General Acacius like a new son, before turning to me. She kissed my cheek quickly whispering, “You will be blessed. The Gods see you.”

In a solemn recitation of contract, and the sharing of wine, I am promised to General Marcus Acacius, most honored General of Rome. There is no laughter. No giggling and peeking behind doors. There is no one to share it with.

Once the contract is settled, we see General Acacius out. In swift and powerful motion, he mounts his horse. His gaze passes over my father and right to me, “I will be back in three weeks to fetch you. My servants will be here in a weeks time to assist in preparation for the marriage banquet. They will have my purse, spend whatever you wish. I will see you soon my lady.”

Without another word, he takes off with the speed of the wind. My father grunts walking inside, calling for his servants to begin preparing for my wedding feast. I hear Alba speaking, but it is all rushing water over me. All I can hear is the pounding of his horse in the distance. All I can see is my husband riding home. My new home.

[stellabk]

FVRY OF THE FIRE

Part I

Summary - Two young daughters and their Patrician father live just outside of Rome in a small village. For the sake of their father’s revolution against the twin tyrant emperors, she and her sister must play the part of lovestruck concubines, even if one of them has too much of a fiery temper to pretend to like the arrogant Emperor Geta.

Warning(s) - binding with rope, abusive behavior (not from Geta), graphic violence, attempted SA, blood, broken bones, not historically accurate. I’m not sure what else, but if you see something else including any edits needed, let me know!

Deianira stirred in her bed from the smell of smoke and the sound of shrieks. Her eyes shot open and she leapt from her bed, brushing the red hair away from her face with her hands as she rushed toward her window. Her brown eyes grew wide as the temple across from her home began disintegrating as it grew more and more ablaze. Soldiers lined the outside, one atop a black horse, as a bulky soldier gripped at a woman’s hair as she knelt on the ground screaming pleas to let her children live. Deianira threw on her clothes in a rush and came rushing down the stairs. Her father stood at the door watching in agonizing silence.

“Father, do something! They’ll kill her and her children!”

Her father only stood frozen, unable to respond. She huffed out a breath of frustration as she pushed past her father, rushing toward the woman.

“We will only ask this once more: where is the man who rules over this village?” the soldier, who you could now see the glinting gold of the Roman insignia on his breastplate, shouted in the woman’s face as he pulled her long hair even further toward the sky. She yelped at the sensation while her two young sons shouted and sobbed for the army to leave their mother alone.

“Let that woman be! What crime has she committed to deserve such callous ruthlessness?”

The soldier’s head shot in her direction, the woman and children now quiet as they stared at their neighbor in fear. The man dropped the woman’s head as she fell to the ground on her face. He began to approach her, tall and burly frame stalking closer and closer like a leopard on the prowl. He stood directly in front of her face, towering over her and spitting on the ground just next to her unclothed feet.

“What right does a bitch have to feel the need to incessantly bark?!” He brought the back of his hand to her face making her stumble to the side. She stayed looking down, her hand slowly moving for the dagger at her side under her dress. He stepped closer to her, yelling blashphemous words at her as he knelt to her ear level just to insult her. He couldn’t get all of his verbal abuse past his lips as her knee came up to meet his croin then her dagger plunged into his throat. He stumbled back several steps with her following, the knife still lodged into his larynx, only pushing harder as he tried to move away. He looked at her with the last light in his eyes as his knees sank to the dirt right beside the woman he had just been tormenting. Deianira spit by his knees before pulling the crimson covered weapon away from his jugular as he fell face first into the red mud.

The general stared at her, unyielding of any emotion but his eyes possessed the faintest hint that he was impressed.

“Forgive my soldier,” the general hopped from the left side of his horse, petting its neck then stepping closer to the petite but obviously dangerous woman in front of him, who still held the dagger chest level and ready to attack once more. “He never has been very tactful. Though I will say, it is a shame you had to kill the fellow.”

“What is it that you Empire scum want with my village?” she hardened her exterior to not let her guard down; he could have only been acting cordially in order to strike her down, after all.

“We have our orders to find Publius, the man who this city follows.”

“What has my father done to incur the wrath of the imperators?”

“Unfortunately your father has refused to send the taxes of the townsfolk to their highnesses, and they took it as a sign he may begin an upheaval.”

“That is nonsense!” your father hobbled to your side. “I would never do a thing to seem like a transgression against my emperors. I beg of you, let me recompense my unintentional transgressions. I shall repay tenfold.”

“Father, you cannot be serious,” Deianira looked at her father. He quickly shot her a look signalling her that she had ashamed him enough. She sealed her lips to prevent any further disgrace to befall him.

“If you and your men wish to wait here for a moment, I shall go inside and wake the servants so they may prepare what you are owed.”

“Very kind, sir. The imperators thank you for your continuous support.”

Deianira’s father nodded to the general before beckoning her back into the house with his hand on her back. Once they were inside, her father closed the door and her sister, Publia, waited with her arms crossed over her chest and yet her wavy blonde hair looked as if it had just been brushed, perfect as ever.

“By the gods, what has happened to you, Deianira?” She brushed her soft cream colored hands across the cheek the soldier had struck, feeling the sting of her touch through the skin.

“Now is not the time. Father, why cower to those soldiers? We have wanted this rebellion to commence for a decade now. Why not stand against the tyrants that sit on the throne?”

“I have my reasons, girl. If you truly want to help our cause–the both of you–I suggest you come near and listen to me carefully. I shall not force on you anything you do not wish to do… We have all discussed the dangers of this revolt, and you both know what is at risk… what you may have to lay down for the sake of the people around us.”

“Father, please. Tell us what you are thinking,” Publia stepped closer to him.

Publius sighed, shaking his head, “I will send the gold and treasures to the emperors, along with my two daughters for an apology.”

“No,” Deianira scrunched her brows, hurt by the notion that their father would pass them along as if they were treasures to be claimed.

“Hear me first, daughter. Your sister is of the meek persuasion. She will make a good fit to tempt Emperor Geta. You, on the other hand, are fiery and hot tempered. Emperor Caracalla will love the challenge of trying to tame the wild beast. If you were to go, you could be a potential consort of the two rulers and bring them to their knees, also giving me the time to build up our recruits and prepare them for the slaughter.”

“But father, if we become nothing more than a consort, we may lose the chance to marry,” Deianira furrowed her brows, holding back her pending explosion of fury from her family.

“She does have a point, father. Not to mention if we are consorts, what shall become of us if we become with child? Should we be exiled, never to see you or any of our loved ones ever again?”

“I understand, and as I stated, I shall not force you both to do this if you do not wish it, but if you do this, we may yet save our people. But you both knew that this revolution could come with great risks.”

SIlence loomed overhead like a broadsword on a small string. Publia was the first to break it.

“I must live up to the name that is yours as well as mine. We are for the people, and I shall be anywhere the rebellion has use for me.”

Deianira hesitated, fighting her head which said to stay under the small blanket of safety in the village, and her heart which cried for the revolution.

“I shall also go. My name my mother gave me might not be of Roman descent, but she gave it to me with purpose.”

Father had the servants carry out gold and treasures in carts, one right after the other. The handmaiden dressed the two doomed sisters in beautiful, luxurious dress for their journey before sending them off with only a few of their close items. The eldest sister walked out the door first as Deia’s father stopped her.

“I want you to heed my words. I do not want you to relent your animosity. Act as if you are being forced to go. Fight them as much as you possibly can until you feel as if Caracalla has “tamed” you. Go forth with the fire of your hair.”

She nodded one last time to her father before he walked her out toward the general.

The general stood beside his horse, waiting for the two women. “Thank you once more, Publius. Your daughters will be well taken care of.”

“Thank you, General Acacius. I am sure they will be taken care of with the utmost diligence.” Your father lowered his head to Acacius in respect.

“However, my men do insist we tie this one to ensure the safety of the rest of the men.”

Deianira smiled with a scoff. “You believe rope will be enough to stop my wrath? If I wish it, I shall bear my teeth to your mens’ throats.”

The rope was tight against her arms as two soldiers wrapped it around her, pinning them to the sides of her torso. A man helped her sister into a carriage, then her, making sure to give her the ample support without the use of her arms.

Before they knew it, the carriage and militia surrounding them made their leave, all of them but two looking back at the smoke from the attack.

The sisters jostled down paths in the carriage that held them, Publia sleeping soundly as Deianira squirmed against the ropes that burned her skin, trying to release some of the pressure. The carriage slowed to a stop, and more bustling noise could be heard from outside it. Publia peeked over the edge where she sat on the floor of the cart, watching as men carried their food cargo in crates and satchels to start camp. She squatted back to her sister’s level ,letting her know what was happening. The women sat as they watched men building tents and a few fires around them as the sun sank further and further down.

General Acacius approached the two of them, “We have a tent for the two of you to share ready if you would like to relax for the night. Dinner will be ready momentarily.”

Deia’s sister pulled her to her feet and led her to the tent. As time passed, she still remained bound, her sister forced to feed her since she lacked the ability to do it herself, and also made up her bedroll. The sun had completely set on the camp, and it grew quieter. The two women slept soundly, though Deianira began to shift in her bedroll at the increase of close sounds. She groggily opened her eyes and looked toward her sister, and was immediately fully awake. A soldier held a knife to her throat and another hand against her mouth, Publia’s skirt showing her loincloth undergarments as she cried quietly and shook. the man had not yet noticed that she was awake, so she knew she had to act fast, but how would she fend him off still bound? In a matter of instinct, she charged for him and threw her full body weight at him like a spear, feet first into his side. The man grunted as he rolled onto the floor, Deia taking it as a sign to head but him with all of her strength. His head fell to the tent floor, rolling over onto hi back as he groggily put his hands against his forehead in anguish. Deianira straddled him, pushing her bare foot against his neck, then snaking the other around to hold his head firm and watch his face turn blue. He grappled for the lost weapon, pawing at her with the other in an attempt to get her off, before he slowly stopped, all light leaving his eyes and head falling to the side still discolored.

Two more guards rushed in from the commotion, seeing the display and their deceased brother. One charged toward Deia, knocking her on her back and off of the dead soldier. He ran toward her with the knife that had been discarded on the floor, but she kicked with both legs into his rib cage, knocking the breath from his lungs. The other grabbed her off the floor by her torso and held her back against him, giving the other soldier an opportunity to attack. He came closer with the knife twirling in his fist and fury in his eyes, panting to try and recover his lost breath. Deianira kicked behind her into the mans knee cap, pushing it into a wrong angle as he screamed before lifting her other leg to kick the man in the same place as the one that was behind her and now on the floor. He cut at her leg, earning a hiss of pain, charging another attack with the blade at her. As if a wild tiger, she ran forward and bit into his neck hard. He screamed at first, then began to gargle. She tasted the metallic taste of his blood, smelled it as it burned at her eyes, but she didn’t relent. If he moved , she bit in harder. He fell to the ground in a heap, still struggling for death, and she still held tightly with her teeth as she collapsed with him. General Acacius stormed in, tens of soldiers behind him now and staring on in horror. Deia finally felt the breathing stop under her lips and let go. Her mouth, legs and arms were covered in a mix of her and the soldiers’ blood sitting criss cross on the tent floor while her sister cowered in the corner. She panted, spitting as much blood from her mouth as possible, tears burning her eyes from the blood exposure.

”Do forgive me, general… they attacked my sister.”

He only nodded, looking at the floor and two bedrolls that had blood splotches scattered on them, then to the girl sitting on the ground covered in blood like a carnivore after devouring a good hunt, and finally to the sister who still remained in her bedroll hat had escaped without a drop of blood or scratch on her.

”We unfortunately have no way for you to clean up, nor anything to change into. Please, get some rest. I shall be outside your tent to ensure nothing like this happens again.”

Publia hugged her sister’s back while the other soldiers dragged their dead companions from the tent leaving a trail of blood behind and the two sisters shared their bedroll that night out of fear for what was to come.

[arislary]

Nipping At Your Nose - Han Jisung x f!reader Oneshot

Synopsis: You're spending the holidays at the club with your roommate and things take a turn for the best when you meet the blue-haired bartender who turns out to be more than what you expected.

Or Han Jisung as Jack Frost a.k.a. club owner

Pairing: Jack Frost/Club Owner!Han Jisung x f!reader (1st POV)

Genre: s2l, fluff, smut, mythical characters

Warning: 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex (wrap up!), biting kink, sexual assault (reader is groped and handles her own), weed consumption, alcohol consumption, temperature/ice play (but not what you would think), nipple play, blowjob/handjob, pussy eating, squirting, slight foot fetish (Jisung just likes her socks), I probably most definitely missed some warnings so just let me know!

WC: 16k

A/N: I totally meant for this to have been posted for Christmas, but who am I kidding, it got away from me! EXTREMELY UNEDITED, but Han Jisung's blue hair is wrecking me and I needed to write about him immediately. Again I can't emphasize enough how unedited this is, so I am so sorry, I literally could not stop writing 😭 There's also a small part of me that wants to write all the members as their characters, but that would so much, unless.. IDK you tell me! Also if you want to see more Jack!Jisung, requests are open ☺️

Masterlist

Taglist: @hanji-coffee, @inlovewithstraykids, @xgridx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I tapped the bar as I threw the shot back, holding in from making a face as I brought the lime to my lips. I turned to my right grinning as Damian glared at me as he sucked on his lime. I had convinced him to come out as a celebration for finishing the week and celebrating the holiday season. With Christmas being tomorrow, this had been the only club we could find that was open. We had both started new jobs at the beginning of the month and had finally found the time to celebrate our accomplishments. Even as roommates, we barely saw each other with how much work we did. 

On top of the fact that this would be my second year spending Christmas after having been no-contact with my family. A distraction was a must. I went out of my way to make the holiday special for myself and refused to allow the lack of family stop me from treating myself and those I loved. Damian had decided to spend the holiday in the states rather than go home to visit his parents in Australia as he normally did.  

“Literally so many different ways we could be celebrating,” Damian groaned, head falling back as he leaned away from me. A laugh bubbled from my lips as I called out to the bartender to request another round of drinks. 

The original bartender, a cute muscular man, who had been serving us was now occupied with patrons on the otherside of the bar and turned to the man squatting next to him that had just come from their backrooms. I watch the two converse before the man squatting stands up to come over to us and suddenly I’m greeted with wide brown eyes, blue hair, and chubby cheeks. 

I felt myself pause as I took in the good-looking man in front of me. His black long-sleeve shirt was loose around his frame, rolled at the sleeves. He had one gold chain hanging from his neck and various rings and earrings decorating his person. My eyes watched as he rubbed his hands on the rag that had been hanging on his shoulder. His very veiny hands at that. My eyes stuck to the way his long fingers clenched around the towel. I felt my mouth start to salivate the longer I stared. His eyebrow raised as I stayed silent longer, glancing over to Damian who looked ready to burst out laughing. 

Damian shoved an elbow into my side, causing me to flinch and sit upright in my chair. I stared wide-eyed at the bartender, my brain coming to a complete stop. 

“I wanna hold your hand-”

Girl. 

“NO! I mean-“ my hand shot out in front of me, shaking at him, other hand covering my mouth in disbelief. Damian shook in chair, practically falling out of it from how hard he was laughing. The bartender’s smirk stretched into an amused smile, his hands now coming to rest on the bar as he let out a huff of laughter. “Can I please get a rum and coke?” 

I mumble out my order, my eyes refusing to leave the bar-top as Damian continued to laugh, attempting to give his own order. As soon as the grinning bartender walks away to make our drinks, I turn to the ‘Brutus’ sitting next to me, taking my turn to shove an elbow into Damian’s ribs now, hissing in his ear. 

“Thanks for the help, ass!”

He yelped and rubbed at his side, eyes narrowing at me, but the smirk on his face gave him away. 

“It didn’t look like you needed my help with how you practically shoved his pants down and started to suck his d-“

“Alright, I have a ‘Manhattan’ for the gentleman and-“ the “too-cute-for-his-own-good” bartender returned with our drinks laying them down in front of us one by one. “A rum and coke for my new favorite customer.”

He shot me a wink as I sputtered reaching to grab my drink, fingers barely grazing his. I jumped a bit, quickly bringing the drink up to my lips, straw bumping my top one before making it into my mouth. Way to go, ________, way to go. 

The bartender leans forward, hand outstretched towards me. His shoulders and arms seeming so big, making a flash of heat go through me. My eyes dart from his hand back to his face, stopping once, several times, at his lips. 

“You said you wanted to hold my hand right?” 

More like put your fingers in my mouth, but sure. 

The heat rose to my face, blooming from my chest upwards. I watched as his eyes flashed down, to look at my barely covered tits, the red halter lace connected by two rhinestone hearts at the center. I had chosen to pair the top with a white layered mini skirt that had a small bow in the middle. His eyes lazily going up my body from what he was able to see. I could feel the heat in me grow further and I turn to Damian, shooting up from my seat. 

“Let’s go dance!” 

“But we -“ I grabbed his arm, dragging him behind me, shooting one last glance towards the bar to see the hot man still gazing at me, the smile on his face growing, crinkling his eyes. I quickly turn back around, chugging at my drink, trying my hardest to ignore the burning in my cheeks. 

I face Damian once we hit the dance floor, the sea of bodies pushing us close together and forcing us to hold our drinks in front of our chests. Damian began to sway, his head bobbing to the music as he took meager sips. I, on the other hand, had finished my drink, glass empty in one hand as I began to move my hips to the music. I could feel Damian shuffling closer, swaying his hips in time with mine. I felt Damian take the empty glass from my hands, moving to an empty cocktail table to set them aside. 

My gaze trails across the club, moving towards the bar where I am met with those brown orbs once more. I paused in my dance, eyes not wavering as we held contact. A body stepped in front of me, a man with a hopeful grin as he grabbed my hand to pull me closer. My eyes flashed to behind his shoulder where the blue-haired bartender continued to stare, his eyes with a challenging glint in them. I glanced to my right to see Damian had been pulled into by what appeared to be a bachelorette group. I turn back to the guy in front of me, stepping to the side, so that I would see the bar in my peripheral. 

I turned my back to him, pressing up against his front, swaying my hips sensually to the music, hands moving up my body as his moved to my waist to pull me back against him. My head turned to see him still watching. A smirk on his face as he conversed with another patron. I felt my breath stutter as he continued to work, appearing unaffected. 

It wasn’t an outright rejection, but the possibility of him being apathetic almost had me feeling embarrassed. I focus back dancing with the man who clearly seemed interested in me, albeit slightly more handsy than I was okay with it, but it was something I was letting slide, fuck it, it’s Christmas. Several times throughout our dancing, I had to move his hands back down to rest on my hips, him sending me a fake apology every time his fingers grazed the outside of my tit through my shirt or trying to slip his fingers under my skirt. However after I felt another rough grab at my ass, I had enough. I prepared to leave his hold when the music abruptly changed to an all to familiar song, freezing me in my spot as I listened. 

Yeah, uh-huh

Yeah, yeah

My eyes flashed towards the bar, my mouth gaping open as I found him already looking. 

Broke up with my girl last night so I went to the club (So I went to the club)

I snorted, hand flying to my mouth as his eyes flashed with amusement. The man behind me remained oblivious to our interaction, hand coming up to rest on my stomach and leaning down to whisper in my ear. I turn my head, looking away from him to focus again back on the handsy guy behind me. 

“You’re so hot,” I restrain myself from gagging, biting my lip to stop the laugh from escaping and lay a hand on top of his arm to prevent it from getting further. The ick had long settled in and I had already regretted letting him dance on me. 

“Thank you,” I say back, ready to disentangle myself from when he held on even tighter. My eyes widened in surprise, head flashing to the side. 

“You have to realize what you’ve been doing?” He suddenly pressed forward, pressing a very obvious erection against my ass. I gasped and tried to turn in his hold again. 

“I’m done dancing, let go of me.” 

“The way you were dancing on me tells me differently,” one of his hands moved up, grazing underneath my tit over my shirt. Oh hell no!  I gaped and slammed my heeled boot down on his shoe finally causing him to release his hold as he yelled out in pain. He crouched down to hold his foot as I whirled around, hands falling to my hips as I glared down at him. 

“I wasn’t dancing for you, fucking pervert,” he straightened up, immediately crowding into me. I stumbled back a few steps, not having been prepared, eyes still blazing in fury. My back was suddenly pressed against someone’s chest, a very cold chest.

I like the bartender (oh, if you’re lookin’ for me)

I’m at the bar with her (Oh oh oh uh-huh, okay)

His hands hold onto my elbows, thumbs rubbing circles into the inside of them. The smell of woods and chestnuts? surrounded me as the chest behind me vibrated with anger.

“He’s banned, take his ID down and kick him out.”

The man spit on the floor near us, leaving me to flinch back against the chest behind. My eyes flashed upwards to meet the brown orbs that had been watching me all night, softening once they made eye contact with mine. 

“That bitch started it, the fucking slut was asking-“

He hadn’t been able to finish his sentence before a fist flew forward and slammed into his cheek. The security guard, dressed in a black ensemble with the only color coming from a Santa hat on his head, that had thrown the punch, cracked his neck to the side and hauled the man back to his feet. I watched with a scowl on my face, crossing my arms, what a fucking asshole and during Christmas! 

“Thanks, Chan,” the security guard or Chan nodded towards us and sent a wink my way as he led the perv out. My eyes flashed to the owner of the deep voice behind me, taking him in up close again. 

“I’m ______,” I interrupt him the second I noticed his mouth open. He stopped, mouth still open as he tilted his head. He laughed his hand grabbing mine to shake it. 

“That’s a pretty name,” I nodded my head, hand still holding onto his hand, his very veiny hand. He pulled me closer by my hand, kissing my knuckles. “I’m Jisung, now come on, Sweetness.”

My hand engulfed by his, pulls me towards the backrooms, up a small staircase. My eyes stay fixated on the man leading me. His blue hair shining under the lights of the club and added festive lights. We reached a dark hallway, him leading me further towards the last room. Each door we passed contained a symbol on it, I was able to make out a top hat, an Easter egg, and a clock before we stopped in front of a door with a silver snowflake. 

As Jisung unlocks the door, I realize I should feel scared or at least cautious by the fact that a stranger was leading me away, but as he looked back towards me, eyes still soft, all other thoughts left, only he remained. Scurrying a few steps to be in stride with him, bringing his hand up to my lips to press a kiss. His lips stretching into a smile as he opens a door to an office space completely decked out in Christmas decorations. 

I gasped and walk into the room, eyes trying to take it all in. The office didn’t look like a typical office, rather more of a game room, with a couch and tv on one side and more of a library space on the other. A tree stood in the middle, multi-colored lights and what looked like personal ornaments. 

“Jisung, this is beautiful,” the door shuts behind him as he walks toward to the small bar behind the couch. He smiles watching me, hands laying on the counter top. I turn towards him, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. He watched me with dark eyes, the desire evident in them. I suddenly felt naked, yet not in a way that made me want to hide away. 

My eyes flashed towards the coffee table and I gasped, my feet immediately leading me towards it. 

“You were holding out on me!” I pulled off my boots, the grinch ankle socks making themselves known. I heard a strangled sound me behind me as I sank down onto the plush couch. My head whipped around to see Jisung’s head thrown back, eyes closed and jaw clenched. I realized how rude that could have been, I knowing first hand how specific I was with sharing my weed. I turned to face him, sitting on my knees, hands coming to rest on the back of the couch. 

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first or let you offer, that was rude of me.”

His eyes opened, head moving to look at me. He took in my position and groaned once again, leaning now on his forearms, head falling to touch the counter. 

“Sweetness,” I shivered at the nickname and shuffled closer to him. I reached out, hand hesitant in mid-air before coming to rest on the top his hair, fingers running through the blue strands. The moan that left him came from deep within his chest as I lightly dragged my nails through the locks. 

He lifted his head up slowly, my hand slowly falling to rest on the side of his neck. His eyes met mine, swiftly standing up and striding to round the couch to meet me. He sits next to me, hands moving to the rolling tray, papers, and grinder that lay there. He took in a deep breath, as his hands began to empty the grinder to roll a blunt. 

I moved in my seat, tucking my legs to the side as I leaned my hands on my knees.

“Do I make you nervous, Jisung?” 

His eyes glanced towards me before taking another look at how much closer I got. His eyes went wide, dropping the blunt and some of the weed he had already began to sprinkle on top back on the tray. 

“N-no,” I hummed and sat back, eyes glancing away down at his hands. 

“Oh-“ he didn’t turn back to begin rolling yet, eyes remaining on me. “You make me nervous.”

I look towards him, meeting his eyes to find the surprise there. I couldn’t help the smirk that came onto my face as I pushed against his shoulder with my hand. “Okay, not too much now, it was obvious.”

He smiled wide at me, head dropping forward as he chuckled. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a deep blush on his face. 

“You- uh- definitely make me nervous, but more about what you could do to me,” he turned back to the tray, his hands resuming their task to finish rolling the blunt. My legs move to place my feet back on the floor. A hand falls on my left foot before it could hit the floor and maneuvered my legs to go over his thigh, my legs falling in between his. My feet rubbing at his calves. 

“Are you gonna ask me what I want for Christmas now, Santa?” I whisper into his ear. The desire growing further inside of me.

His eyes flicker over to me as he brings the blunt to his lips, letting tongue come out to lick at the leaf. My eyes follow the movement of his tongue as his fingers continued to roll it back up. He reached out the hand holding the blunt towards me, eyes expectant. 

“Depends, have you been naughty or nice?”

I leaned forward, my tongue coming out to run right where his had. I maintained eye contact with him, eyes drooling with want for each other. He pulled it back as my legs squeezed the thigh under me. He hissed and tapped a hand against my thigh, smirking as I giggled and fell into his side. 

“Yea, definitely naughty, Sweetness,” his fingers reached down to tickle at my foot. “Might have to give you a new nickname.”

He finished closing the blunt reaching over to grab the lighter. As he lit it, his eyes felt shut and his neck went back as he re-inhaled the smoke through his nose. I gulped watching his throat bob, his fingers holding the blunt nonchalantly. He reopened his eyes and made contact with me as he exhaled the smoke. 

He held the blunt out to me and I stared at him for a second, the temptation inside of me growing. I wrapped my lips around the blunt, taking a long drag. My lips pressing against the pads of fingers. I closed my eyes willing myself to ignore the slick beginning to pool in my underwear. Anxious he’ll begin to feel it through his slacks. I shifted in my seat, pulling away from the blunt as I exhaled the smoke through my nose. 

I opened my eyes to find his boring into mine. I pursed my lips, trying to hold back my pleased smile. I leaned back my seat, pushing the blunt back towards his lips. 

“So you’re not just the bartender then?”

His tongue came out to lick his lips as he took a hit himself, holding it towards me again. He smirked at my question and shrugged his shoulders. 

“You could say that,” I pouted and sniffed, to hold the smoke in for a bit longer. I pursed my lips to the side to exhale and looked off to the side. 

“Then would you say you’re the owner?” 

“That’s right, Sweetness, although it’s not just me,” he took a hit, leaning back against the couch, bringing the ashtray with him and handing it to me. I scooted closer to him, legs curling up more in his lap as he continued to hold the blunt up for us to take hits off of. 

The further down the blunt became the closer the two of us sat, the more the conversation deepened. It was odd to find myself sharing of more about myself, the fears of the new job, what it could mean for me in the future. He shared of his friend group, the group as I’ve come to learn that are all part owners of the club or have a role to serve. My head now leaning on his shoulder, his free hand resting on my thigh, fingers reaching in the inside of my thighs. 

“What made you stay open for Christmas? Did the holly jolly man inspire you?”

He snorted and shrugged his shoulders as he laid the roach in the ashtray, grabbing it from my hands to put it back on the table. He settled back down, his hand coming back to rest on my thigh. His eyes have a glint to them that I can’t quite put my finger on. 

“Please, as if he could make any of the club decisions, he’s too busy with his list all the time,” Jisung grumbled, a pout making it’s way on his lips. 

“You’re right, how could I compare you to that old man?” Jisung nodded as I placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face down to look at me. “Besides, if I’m being completely honest, I’ve always been more into Jack Frost anyways.”

Jisung stills underneath me, the hand he had on my thigh, clenching. My own hand stills on cheek, nervous that I may have said something wrong. 

“I’m actually Jack Frost,” his hand squeezes my thigh and an unreadable emotion enters his eyes as he stares at me. Interesting. A beat passes before he clears his throat. “Hence the hair,” he pointed a finger up towards the blue locks. I reached up to tug one of the strands, biting my lip. 

“I’ve always had a biting kink,” deciding to play along with his joke. 

Jisung and I blinked at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. My face turned, nose pressing into his chest as we laughed against the other. Jisung’s laugh filled my ears and it became a sound I wanted to hear again and again. I leaned back from him, finally calming down form the laughing fit. He met my eyes and brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear, fingers gliding down the side of my neck. 

“We’ll have to test that theory some other time then,” he hummed more to himself than to me. His eyes staring hard at the juncture between my neck and shoulder, thumb pressing in. I leaned back into him, his hand falling to rest around my shoulders as I laid my head on his. 

“I don’t know honestly,” Jisung sighed as he started to answer my initial question. “I just realized that some people don’t always have it to spend it with and that… fucking sucks. So why not just be open?” he trailed off, head dipping back to lay on the couch. I shifted my head up to look at him, my breath catching at his response. “Besides, I’m with my best friends anyways, that’s all matters to me.”

My eyes ran down his face, taking in the blue of his hair against his honey skin. The cupid’s bow of his lips with the slight 5 o’clock shadow framing them. I turned my gaze down to the hand that rested on my thigh, not noticing as he turned to face me. 

“And to think if I hadn’t been open for such a holiday, I wouldn’t have met you, Sweetness,” my eyes move up his body to meet his again, taking in the way the smirk plays at his lips, but his eyes. His eyes tell me so much more. I couldn’t help, but become overwhelmed with the urge to hold this man’s hand and never let it go. Already knowing the warmth it would provide me, creating a longing inside, that I never knew existed. 

I looked away from him, towards the clock he had above the television flashing 12:25. 

I gasped sitting up, whirling around to face Jisung. 

“Fuck, it’s Christmas already! Damian! Fuck me, man, I’m the worst!” 

I scrambled up from where I practically sat on his lap, trying to tug on my boots. Jisung was quick to stand with me, hands falling on my hips as I struggled to get my shoes on. 

“Wait, Sweetness,” Jisung guided me to sit back down, kneeling before me as his hands tugged my boots from my hands. I looked at him, mouth opening ready to argue with him. “Would you want to invite him back here?”

I paused in my movements, staring up at him in surprise. 

“I-“ I looked all over his face, trying to something to tell me what he was thinking. I felt slightly dumbfounded that he was ready to invite my friend back into the intimate environment we had created. The pleading in his eyes became apparent as his hands moved to my feet, pressing into the soles. “Jisung.”

I mumbled his name, hands coming to run up his muscular arms up to his shoulders. He moved closer, his noses brushing against mine. 

“You just stay in here and I can go get him,” his hands moved up from my feet to my calves, fingers still digging in to massage the muscles. I felt myself become like putty in his hands, melting further into his touch. “You can roll another joint if you want and I know some of the guys would be willing to come join, we’ll celebrate all together, hmm?” 

I was nodding my head before he finished, squeezing his shoulders with each word that passed through his lips. Something about the way he phrased it, it seemed like he was begging me to stay, not wanting this moment between us to end. 

“Will you come back?”

He snorted, his head dipping forward, his hair brushing the skin left exposed by my shirt. I heaved in a breath as he raised his head again, a wide smile present. 

“Sweetness, I’d be a fool to leave my favorite customer alone-“ I blushed as his hand moved up to grab a hold of mine. “And, who’s gonna hold your hand if I’m not here?”

“Jisung!” I pushed him off, laughing and trying to tug my hand out of his hold. “You’re so-“

“So?” He eggs me on, crowding up in my face, eyes comically wide. “Funny? Amazing? Pretty?”

“Annoying,” I state flatly, finger coming up to flick his forehead. Jisung yelps, hand coming up to rub at the spot. He playfully glowers at me, fingers flying forward to dig into my sides. 

“Yah! You’re not being very nice! And on Christmas!” He mocked gaped at me as I flew into a fit of laughter, tears forming at my eyes. “I might have to tell Santa, you don’t even realize the sway I have, precious!”

“Ji-“ I shrieked further, Jisung moving to a standing position over me, continuing his assault at my waist. His smile wide as he took me in underneath him. “Spare me!”

He finally released me, hands falling on either side of the couch as leaned over me. I gasped for air, smiling wildly up at him, trying to calm the racing of my heart. He pressed his lips quickly against my forehead before standing straight and walking towards the door. 

“I’ll be back, Sweetness, stay put,” he pointed a finger at me and I mock saluted him, winking. 

“You got it, Mr. Frost!” He paused by the door, eyes flashing to me with an intensity that had me freezing. I bit my lip, clenching my thighs as a pit of desire blooms from my core, shivering as it felt like the room’s temperature dropped. 

“Behave.” 

The door closed behind him and I released a breath, falling back against the couch. 

“What the fuck?” I sat back up, eyes trailing along the room, finding what looked like another door. I turned back towards the coffee table when I suddenly remembered my phone. I shrieked, hands flying to my tits to grab at them and then down to my stomach, hips and butt. 

“Ah, fuck me, man!” I stomped my foot, slapping myself on my forehead. “Way to be distracted by some dick, _____, ugh you bitch,” I slip my boots back on, trudging to the door. Just as my hand reached for the handle, it swung open to present Damian. 

“Yah!” I jumped back as he approached, expression angry. My eyes widen and I put my hands up in surrender.

“Listen to me! Listen to me! Let me tell you something first!” I am barely able to register the three other men walking into the room as Damian grabbed my arm and yanked me towards him, pulling me in for a hug, but it’s more of a chokehold.

“I was so worried! One second you’re there and the next you’re gone, and suddenly your Bartender is asking me to come with to a backroom! You can’t leave me alone! And on my first Christmas!”

“It’s not your first Christmas-“

“My first AmericanChristmas, you fucking brat! God, I should have you evicted!”

I snort as he fake cries and push against his chest, eyes flashing to the three amused men that have moved to different areas of the room. Jisung leaning by the door still, smile present watching us. 

“It’s not my fault you were trying to get into an engaged woman’s pants!” After successfully pulling away from him, I pushed him towards the the couch to sit with the other man. I could feel Jisung’s body as he moved to follow us. His hand ghosting my lower back, leaving me feeling tingles all throughout my body, goosebumps raising all over my body. The heat from before rearing its head. Damian fell into the last open seat. Jisung pulled out floor cushions, settling down on one, with his back against the the chaise of the couch. 

He pulled my hand down, moving me to settle in between his legs as he spread them. One leg bent, foot flat on the floor, the other outstretched, making the muscle of his thighs prominent. He reached under the coffee table, pulling a folded up throw to place it over my lap, being more mindful of the fact that I was in a skirt than I was. His hand finally coming to rest on my covered thighs, the other wrapping around my waist to keep me secured to him. I nestled further into the space as Jisung began to introduce his friends to me and vice versa. 

Minho, the short, black-haired stoic-looking friend began rolling another joint, his eyes flashing to mine with a wink as Jisung said his name, causing me to grin back at him. There was something about the way he moved, slowly almost, eyes sleepy. The bleached buzz-cut friend, or Hyunjin, smirked at Jisung, his eyebrow raising in turn. He seemed to glow, the air around him somehow reminding me early spring. 

“You must be who pulled our Jisungie away from us.”

‘Jisungie’ stuttered behind me, his hands clenching in their hold on me. 

“Aww, I didn’t realize Jisungie already mentioned me!”

Minho snorted, licking the last of the blunt as he met my gaze. 

“He messed up three drinks too busy watching you.”

I turned my head to look at Jisung, eyes sparkling with laughter, mouth twitching into a smile. 

“Did you really?”

He furrowed his brows, glare stinging as he stared Minho down. 

“Barely,” he grumbled as I giggled, hand coming up to cover my mouth, Damian and Hyunjin snorting in laughter. Minho smirked, lighting the blunt and taking a hit before passing it to Hyunjin. 

“If it’s any consolation, I got groped while trying to get his attention, so I think we both learned our lesson,” I watched as all the men in room grew tense, their brows furrowing. Jisung tightened his grip on me, the deep breaths he took moved me on his chest. 

“I promise, _______, that shit won’t ever happen again in our club,” Hyunjin shook his head as he continued the blunt rotation to Damian. “I’m sorry it even happened in the first place, but don’t worry he’s banned.” 

Minho hummed, cracking his fist as he stood up to grab a drink from the bar. Even from the short interaction with Minho, the air around him was intimidating, heavy, almost like a blanket. 

“I shouldn’t have left you for even a second, babes!” 

Damian leaned down, passing it to me now. I shook my head not seeing how Damian could blame, taking a hit, breathing it back up my nose. I was about to turn my head to the side, fingers lightly gripped my chin, turning my head towards Jisung, lips opening in surprise and releasing smoke in his awaiting parted ones. My eyes were wide as I stared at his hooded ones, the furrow in his brows still present showing me how much the situation had frustrated him.

He leaned back, eyes still on me as he exhaled from his nose. I played with his chain, shaking my head firmly again. 

“Nah, it’s no ones, but that perverts fault. I allowed him to dance with me and he crossed the line, he should’ve just felt lucky to have danced with me!” 

“Exactly!” Minho slammed the shot glass down after his proclamation, sucking in air through his teeth. “Fucking bitch ass probably an insecure cunt who’s dick’s so-“

“Alright dude,” Hyunjin shakes his head as he grabs the blunt from me. Minho rounds the couch five glasses filled this time that he lays on the table. 

“No let him finish! Asshole deserves it!” I lean forward, hand raised for a high-five which Minho gladly gives. I then reach for a glass, slap the shot on the table and throw it back, lips scrunching up at the taste. Jisung’s thumb wipes the excess that dribbled down my chin and sucks his finger.

“Okay, you two can relax,” Minho groans, stealing the blunt from Damian before he could pass it to me. “Nah, as punishment, we’re skipping you two.”

“Hey!” I pouted and turned to Jisung in shock, crossing my arms. “Keep your hands to yourself!”

Jisung gaped at me as I stood up from the between his legs, bringing the blanket with me to go on the other side of the coffee table. It was Jisung’s turn to pout, sending another seething look towards Minho as he passed the blunt to me now. For a moment, I could have sworn it looked like his eyes had changed colors, but I ignored it, chalking it up to the decorative lights of the room. 

I stuck my tongue out at him and took a long drag. 

“Sweetness, weren’t you just begging to hold my hand?” I began to cough, smoke creating a cloud around me as I covered my face with my arm. I could hear the cackle of Damian and threw up a middle finger. A body settled near me, a large hand patted me on the back as Hyunjin placed a cup of water down in front of me. 

I looked up to see Jisung, who sends me a cheeky wink, bringing the glass to my lips. He continues to rub my back as I chug the water. Hyunjin grabs the remote, turning the television on to put a Christmas movie on. 

“Jack Frost, the 1979 version! Do that one, that one’s my favorite!” I point when he just passes the old cartoon movie. I can see from peripheral Minho and Hyunjin turn to make a face at Jisung who had moved towards the bar to pour a drink. He shook his head slightly, finger tapping his lip. Hyunjin plays it, grabbing the other blankets from under the coffee table to pass them around. 

“Is the club still open?” Damian asked, as he wrapped himself up in his blanket. 

Minho nodded his head, taking another shot glass. 

“We stay open all day on Christmas, but that’s also because we have a select group that comes and spends today with us.”

“A select group?” I look over at him as Jisung comes back around, grabbing the floor cushion to slide back towards me. He sits down, dragging me to sit on his lap, blanket covering our lower halves. I turn to look at Jisung in shock who merely shrugs and turns his attention to the movie. 

“Basically it’s like a private member only club that we happen to host here every Christmas.”

“How do you become a member?” Damian crossed in his legs, sitting up intrigued now. 

“It’s kind of based on their job?” 

“What kind of job? I have a job!” I sit up in Jisung’s lap, hands squeezing at the arm wrapped around me. 

“Not just any job, Sweetness,” Jisung chuckled behind me and rubbed a hand up and down my back. “Think maybe more life long jobs, passed down in a very specific way.”

“So nepotism?” 

Minho busted out laughing as Hyunjin snorted. Jisung shook from laughter underneath me. Damian and I shared a confused look, both of our heads tilting to the side. I look at Jisung once again, eyebrow raising as he sobered up, hands tightening their grip on me as he bit his lip. 

“Yea, Sweetness, something like that.”

I hummed, understanding that it was possibly a touchy subject and decided to drop it. Fanning the blanket to cover us more, I turned my head sideways to focus back on the movie. I felt Jisung’s cold nose rub lightly by my temple before shifting his attention to the TV as well. 

It was about half an hour or more into the movie and all of us, excluding Damian who had fallen asleep, groaned when Sir Rightfellow came on. 

“Ugh, I can’t believe she picked this douche over Jack!” I grumbled, arms crossing as Jisung moved us forward to pass Minho the joint that Hyunjin had rolled a few minutes prior. Minho’s eyes flash to behind me, a smirk present once again on his face.

“You don’t say?” I look behind me to catch Jisung shaking his head before he stops himself, smiling at me. “Are you implying you would have been Jack Frost’s bride?” I turn back to Minho with a ‘duh’ look on my face. 

“Jack Frost is by far better, although, I wouldn’t want him to have to turn human. I’d be chill just being his as he is.” 

I felt Jisung stiffen under me but paid no mind as I sat up further. 

“Also, like I wish Jack would’ve just said something, you know? Like ‘hey, I saved your life’ or I don’t know just say your ‘Old Man Winter’!”

“I am not Old Man Winter!” Jisung shot back and I whipped around to face, mouth open. Minho hissed as Hyunjin chortled. I shook my head surprised by the scowl on his face. 

“I- I know you’re not…” When the scowl on his face didn’t lessen, the pout prominent, I felt an overwhelming need to comfort him. “I’m sorry, Jisung, Jack Frost isn’t Old Man Winter?”

I didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but I also couldn’t help but feel confused as to why he seemed so offended. His eyes widened once he realized his outburst and he turned his head to cough. 

“I- I mean they’re two different people you know? Old Man Winter is the god of Winter, I’m- Jack Frost is winter you know? They’re completely different…” 

“Smooth,” Minho mutters, causing Hyunjin to laugh even harder.

I nodded my head, as he finished, hands rubbing his chest to calm him. 

“You’re right, Ji, they’re totally different, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Jisung stared at me for a second before moving to stand to his feet, grabbing my hands to bring me with him. 

“Come with me?” I nodded as he began to lead me towards the door I had seen earlier. He lifted a two-finger salute towards the boys as I turned to wave at them. 

“Merry Christmas!” They smiled at me and called back to me, returning to the still-lit joint. Jisung pulled me through the door, closing it behind me. 

“Wow!” I take in the silvery Christmas decorations, stepping further into the dark, cold bedroom, lit by the white lights. I walked towards the frosted windows, gasping at how real the frost looked like. I look at the bedroom, the fluffy dark blue sheets looking incredibly inviting. My eyes trailed to the bookshelf, littered with different books, games, and photographs. 

One photo caught my eye in particular, it was Jisung, Minho, Hyunjin, that security guard Chan, and a few others that I didn’t know. What really caught my attention was how they were all dressed. Chan was dressed as Santa Claus, Minho in robes and a floppy hat with what looked like a cotton ball. Hyunjin had on a crisp white suit, in his hand a woven basket. I trailed my eyes over the picture, stopping at the darkly dressed Jisung. He looked normal if the frosty blue color of his eyes didn’t give him away. 

I hear his footsteps as he approaches me slowly. I turn to face him, the question clear on my face. 

“Is- hmm how should I ask this?” Jisung moved to sit on the bed, hands moving behind him as he leaned back. I could tell he was trying to appear indifferent, but his shoulders seemed tense, and his mouth tight. “Are you guys like.. a bunch of role-players or something?”

Jisung fell back into the bed laughing heartily, I smacked my teeth at him and moved to climb onto his lap, chuckling at the cute expression on his face, happy to see him relaxing. His eyes were closed, mouth open wide. His laugh gave me rich man vibes, leaving me to shiver in its wake. Fuck, he was too attractive. He sat back up, his blue hair shining under the silvery white Christmas lights. 

His hands came up to grip my thighs, my skirt rucked up dangerously now between. My hands came to rest on his arms. 

“What? I feel like it was a valid question!” Jisung snorted, his eyes full of amusement. 

“It was, it was,” he pats my butt, sliding his hand up my back slowly. “No, we aren’t role-players.” 

“Then they’re the nepo babies you mentioned, right?” He laughed again, nodding his head as I smirked triumphantly. “But why are you in it? You’re a nepotism baby too? And why are you all dressed like that?”

“Relax, Sweetness, I’m gonna answer your questions-“ I stood from his lap suddenly, going back to the picture and picking it up to bring it closer to my face. It was like the thought was not yet done forming, but my mind was going wild. There is just something about them, something in the look and the photo itself looked old almost. My brain racks through our conversations throughout the night. 

There’s… no way…

I slowly bring the picture down, eyes flashing to him and then back to the photo. He hadn’t moved from his seat, yet his eyes changed from the playfulness from before to anxiety? Fear? Hope? I couldn’t tell with the bubbling confusion and denial already making itself known inside of me. 

“You-“ I stop myself looking back at the picture, there’s just no way. I place the picture back down and look at Jisung, schooling my face. “Are you fucking with me or something? Like is this something that you do?”

“Wait, huh?” 

“The whole ‘Jack Frost’ thing, I mean having us watch the movie-“

“Okay well hold on, you wanted to watch-“

“And then your reaction to being called ‘Old Man Winter’,” Jisung’s face immediately turned cloudy, his mouth dropping open to disagree. I held up a finger to his lips, my eyes blazing. 

“I mean look at your room, Jisung, it’s not subtle!” My arms are outstretched to my side at this point, one hand still holding the photograph. “Is this why you guys stay open? Are you like some Christmas sex club? Members can pick their favorite character or something”

Jisung paused, the finger he had in the air to interrupt, bent at the knuckles. The lips twitched up, his eyes filling with laughter. 

“I-“

“And what makes you think I would choose Jack Frost! What if I was more into Cupid, hmm?”

Jisung scoffed, arms crossing over his chest, looking off to the side with a pout on his lips. 

“Changbin wouldn’t even know how to handle you,” I look back at him, eyebrows furrowed. I realized He.. actually thinks he’s Jack Frost. I glance at the picture again and back towards him. 

I can’t possibly believe this.

Can I?

“You-“ I cleared my throat, his head turning towards me, but his eyes remained on the floor, pout still present. “You’re really Jack Frost.”

Jisung’s eyes met mine now, the seriousness on his face taking me by surprise. 

“I am.”

The finality of his voice struck me to the cord. Jisung stood up from his seat moving towards the window, he glanced over at me before closing his eyes and blowing on the glass panes. I watch in amazement as frost leaves his pursed lips, the ice growing further on the panes. The room’s temperature drops further as more ice leaves his mouth. He stops, eyes opening revealing the icy blue color from the photo. 

I gape in shock, slowly sinking to the floor, eyes flashing between him and the window. 

“Y-you.. you’re Jack Frost,” one hand covers my mouth, the other falling flat on the floor next to the picture that continued to glare up at me. “Fuck, you’re really.. you..”

A hand slowly comes in my vision, moving my hand away from my mouth before tilting my face upwards with a finger under my chin. The icy blue in his eyes remained as he hesitantly crept closer. Oddly enough, his touch continued to feel warm to me even in the freezing room. Goosebumps rose on my body as our eyes met.

“I’m Jack Frost.”

“You’re Jack Frost.”

We both continued to stare at each other as our words sank in. I should run, I should leave and never look back. I was just drunk, high, maybe he drugged me! I mentally shook my head at that, knowing that this man had seemed so sincere in the interactions we had. My hand glides up his that’s still holding my chin, clenching the black fabric of his sleeve and pulling him down as I pushed up. 

Our lips met in a bruising force, teeth almost clanking together at how desperately we gripped at each other. The heat in my core multiplied as Jisung’s hands went to both of my cheeks, fingers spreading to reach into my hair as we pushed closer. My arms squeezed his arms, hands moving to wrap around his neck. His teeth nipped and sucked at my lips, hands moving my head the way he wanted. 

He pulled away suddenly, lifting me to my feet and walking us back towards the bed. I raised on to my tip toes, thankful I had taken my shoes off again once we started the movie. I move my hand to the back of his neck, bringing his head down to take a nip at his nose. He groaned, setting me on top of lap, bringing our cores flushed against each other. 

I could feel the tent beginning to form on his pants, growing more as we continued to devour each other. His lips trailed down my neck, teeth biting at the flesh. I moan unabashedly, moving my hips over his to feel any type of friction. By now, my skirt was over my hips, underwear on full display. His hands kneading at the skin of my ass, shaking the extra flesh in his fingers. 

“Fuck me, Sweetness,” Jisung continued to bite at me, going farther down to the tops of breasts, tongue coming out to lick the swell of my left one. Without warning, he bite down roughly, causing me to shriek and grind harder on his growing length, mouth salivating. 

“Yes, Ji!” He hums as he takes another bite from the top of my right tit, tongue soothing the skin in his mouth. I groan, one hand fisting at the back of his shirt, the other gripping his hair, pushing his head closer to my breasts. Jisung pulled away, smirking at the bite marks he had left on me, before pursing his lips and blowing the softest cold air on them. 

I gasped, chest heaving, hips moving erratically over his. One of his hands moved from my ass to trail up the front of my body, fingers grazing the fresh marks. I whimpered as they pressed into the bruised skin, eyes flashing up to meet his. 

Words couldn’t be used to describe the look we exchanged. It was overwhelming and all too consuming. Our breaths mingled in the space between us, noses brushing against each other. I came to a startling reality that I would gladly give him anything, but more importantly, I wanted him. I wanted to see this man again after tonight, and the night after. I wanted to be a part of him. 

“I want you, Jack Frost.”

It was Jisung’s turn to whimper, his eyes looking so absolutely soft. He leaned towards me, lips meeting mine in a slow dance. Our tongues dragged against the other, licking into each others mouths lazily. Jisung moved us to side to lay me under him on the bed. Him coming to rest flush against me, legs caging his waist. His hard length rutted against my core, both us hissing from the contact. 

“I want you, Sweetness,” his eyes holding a question as his fingers fiddled with the ends of my top. I nodded my head, fingers moving to pull the top over my head before he even had the opportunity. Hands not having dropped yet, are suddenly pinned above my head, top tangled in my hands. Jisung wraps his lips around one of my erect nipples, teeth scraping and sucking harshly. 

He switched to the other side, giving it the same abuse until he was satisfied. Lifting his head to gaze at the red, swollen buds, the bites of his teeth indented in the skin. He blew his soft icy air at them, a breathy sigh escaping me from the contrast of temperatures happening on my body. 

The slickness of the my underwear had to be evident as Jisung continued to press and grind his hips into me. His fingers and lips moved down my body, teeth needing to bite and leave a mark as me made his way down my stomach to my bunched up skirt. Jisung begins to tug my skirt down my legs, lifting off the bed so that was standing before me. He held my socked feet, lifting them up to his face to place a kiss on the clothed toes. 

I tried jerking them back, laughing at the tickle of cool air on them, but he held on tighter. 

“Sweetness, the way you were dressed today took my breath away and I already wanted you, but when I saw these socks, I knew I was going to have you. I think I’m wrapped around your finger, is that possible?”

I wiggled my toes at him, arching one of my feet to touch at his chest and push at him. 

“Yes… I’m wrapped around yours,” Jisung placed a final kiss to the arch of my foot, sliding fingers under the fabric to pull it off. He did the same with the other foot, before holding them together to kiss each toes, teeth taking small nips at them. I pouted at the black shirt still on him, dying to have a feel of his skin. 

I trail a foot down, going under his shirt to touch the hard planes of his stomach. He hisses as my toes make contact with his skin before he is shucking his shirt of his body. The honey skin fills my vision, my mouth and cunt watering at the sight. His chest heaved as he stared down at me, eyes still icy blue but dark with desire. 

His hands go to the button of his slacks, pushing them down until he’s left in dark blue boxers. Jisung spreads my legs, pushing them up body as he blows cool air on my covered cunt, the fabric doing nothing to hide the constant flow of arousal dripping out of me. He leaned the last inch forward, biting at my folds, tongue laving the clothed folds. 

I whine, hands moving down to my tits, pulling roughly at my bitten nipples. Jisung continued to suck and bite at my slit, hands moving to tug me closer, as if he’s trying to suffocate himself. I almost wail when his fingers begin to slide the wet fabric down all while he blew soft cool air. 

He dives back in, tongue trailing up from my puckered hole to my cunt, trying to catch as much of my essence as he could. He leans back and spits at my clit, drawing a whine from me at the filthy display. 

“Sweetness was the perfect name, you taste so good, best fucking pussy,” he slurred against me, eyes hooded as he looked at me. I was up, leaning back on my elbows to watch him, bottom lip caught between my teeth. I slide my hand down, fingers touching at my clit as he continues to suck on me, his tongue grazing the tips of my nails. “So fucking wet, precious, you’re dripping.”

“Only for you, Mr. Frost,” he brings my fingers into his mouth, biting down on them. The icy blue intensified and the room grew even colder as he fingers teased at my entrance, his other hand gripping tightly at the inside of my thigh. 

“Ask me for it, ________.”

The roughness of his voice had my pussy clenching, my hole desperate for him to fill it. I moved my hips, a pout painting itself on my face. 

“Please Jisung-“  the words barely left before his finger is inside, curling and beginning a steady rhythm. The squelching noise was obscene as I threw my head back, toes curling from the pleasure. “Yes, baby, don’t stop, more, Ji, more!”

A second finger was soon add, the pumping in side of me increased, leaving me panting and desperate. My hips move on their own accord, meeting his pumping fingers thrust for thrust. 

“More, Sweetness? You can take can’t you? Such a good girl, shitting on Sir Rightfellow huh?” I whimper, hole clenching tightly around his fingers causing him to release a hiss as he went harder. “Fuck Sweets, you were just begging for me, huh? Needed some ice in you?”

Each question is asked with a forceful thrust of his fingers, leaving me weak and seeing snowflakes in my vision. 

“Oh- yes, Sungie, harder,” I gasped as it felt like the temperature of his fingers changed, the coldness against my heated walls almost bringing me to the edge. My head went to the side, the pleasure of it all becoming too much and for a moment my eyes grazed the picture that lay on the floor forgotten. A thought suddenly passing through me as Jisung continued his assault, his mouth having joined his fingers. His tongue slurping messily, teeth continuing to nip any bit of skin he could. 

“W-wait, Ji-“ Jisung immediately pulled his head away, fingers halting as his eyes flashed to mine, concern evident. 

“What’s wrong?”

“If Chan was here tonight, how did he deliver presents?”

Jisung huffed, his head falling back. “There’s no way you’re fucking asking me about that now?” Jisung continued to pump his fingers lazily, mouth reattaching itself to my slick folds. I gasped, his tongue ice cold as he lapped at me. 

“But I’m serious! Australia is like hours- wait… OH!” A strong suck and teeth biting my clit has me pausing, the air from lungs taken all at once. “Timezones duh! But still, ah- fuck- it doesn’t make sense!”

I shrieked as Jisung bit roughly at my inner thigh, fingers curling and beginning a punishing speed inside of me. 

“Sweets, please, stop talking about him.”

“I’m s-sorry, Ji, I have- OH FUCK ME!” I yelp, my thighs clamping around his head as he suddenly shoved his tongue inside my aching hole. My vision goes black as I yelled out his name. Jisung continues his never-ending assault, lapping furiously at me to make sure he didn’t miss a drop. He was whining, hands shoving me closer to him, gripping tightly his knuckles turned white. 

My body continued to shake as Jisung kissed up my body, admiring the littered teeth marks he left on me body. My eyes opened, meeting his, shock running through me at his wet face. My mouth dropped open, hand coming up to cover my mouth. 

“Did I..?”

Jisung swipes a hand over his face, bringing his wet fingers to his mouth to suck on them. His other hand trails down his own body, jerking his covered dick. His gaze is dark as he slips his hand inside, pumping his length as he looked at me. 

“Yes, you did, sweets, squirted all over me, fucking hot as fuck,” Jisung whines, climbing over me after he shoved his boxers down his legs, yanking his own socks off. “I need to have you now, baby, please?” 

Jisung came to hover over me, his hands coming to rest on either sides of my body, blue hair tickling my forehead as he leaned down to ghost his lips over mine. 

I sucked in a breath, hands running up his chest, scratching at his skin, desperate to leave me own mark. I bite his bottom lip, tugging at it roughly, sucking it into my mouth. His hard erection bumped against my folds, leaving us to whine and pant into each others mouths. 

“Please fuck me, Mr. Frost.”

Jisung shivers above, kissing me softly before lifting off of me to reach inside of the nightstand. I lock my ankles around his waist, arms circling around his neck to bring his attention back to me. Eyebrows furrowed, I shook my head at Jisung, my hand reaching down to grab his dick. My fist jerked him up and down, enjoying the way his mouth fell open, bottom lip jutting out completely. 

“I said, fuck me, Jisung,” his hand met mine, circling around my fist, nudging his tip against my clit, the wetness easily allowing him to slide against me. Jisung nudged my hand away, fingers interlocking with mine as he brought them above my head. He pushed his hips forward, grinding against me until the tip of his length caught my sopping area. 

 Jisung quickly sank in, both moaning loudly at the connection. I could feel my eyes begin to water, Jisung’s head dropping in the crook of my neck, teething at the area. Our hips moved in tandem, Jisung taking deep, slow thrusts, making me feel every inch of his dick inside of me. I clenched around him, eyes nearly rolling back at the tight feel and causing Jisung to bite even harder. 

I feel barely coherent as I try to meet his hips, thrust for thrust, hand still clutched in his. I turned my head, lifting up to suck on the skin of the arm holding my hand down. Jisung’s hips stuttered against me, head lifting from my neck as I bite at his arm, tongue coming out to lave at the skin, soothing the redness around the teeth marks. A string of spit connecting me to his arm had him rutting into me harshly, his hands now moving to stretch my legs to the side, pinning my hips down. 

I cry out, hands grabbing onto his biceps for support as he thrusted into me wildly. It was like as someone was gliding an ice cube inside me before the temperature returned to normal, Jisung a groaning, whimpering mess above me, mouth open as the icy blue of his eyes doubled, almost making them white. I gasped as his body seemed to go back and forth from being warm to cold, as if he wasn’t able to control his supernatural abilities. 

“Let go for me, Frost, l-let me see you,” Jisung’s eyes found mine, a vulnerability in them that left me shook to my core. I smiled softly at him, my eyes still watery from the pleasure. Jisung’s mouth opened, most likely to argue, but I placed a finger over them, shaking my head, eyes imploring him. “Please?”

Jisung eyes remained the same, except he continued his deep thrusting, eyes not leaving mine as his body became cold, the length inside of me feeling like an icicle. His skin unable to cool the fire burning in me as I raked my hand through his blue locks, pulling him down so our lips met. Tongues sliding into each others mouth, teeth trying to nip, sucking when we could, spit dripping from our mouths. 

The air around us seemed to fill with snowflakes and yet everywhere he touched me burned. The burn of his hand against my stomach, pushing in to feel the burning of his length inside me. 

“You’re so good to me, sweets, aren’t you?” Jisung cooed at me, lips moving towards down to my chest. He teethes at my nipples again, fingers pinching where he couldn’t bite. “Letting me fuck this pretty pussy, you were begging to be fucked by Jack Frost, weren’t you baby?”

“Ahh, yes- nugh, wanted you from the second I s-saw- ohhh fuck, Ji, I- I’m close,” I whimpered my head digging into the soft mattress under me. Jisung’s eyebrows were pinched together, his lips bruised, but blue? The color matching his hair. 

“You’re close, sweets?” he pouted at me, he pumped harder, his breathing ragged. “Wanna cum with you, baby, hmm? You wanna cum with me, don’t you?” I’m nodding my head, his fingers holding my neck in a light pressure. I would want to do anything with him if it meant we’d come back together like this. That I would see him again.

“Please, Ji, please, please.”

“That’s it, baby, cum with me, do it.” 

The burst of white around us became so intense, I felt myself go limp, eyes rolling back as Jisung continued to pump into me through the orgasm. I couldn’t even say if any noises left me as I felt myself succumbing to the pleasure, the ice inside of me creating a deep fire within me, bursting out of me. Without a second of peace, I could feel the explosion of Jisung’s orgasm, the icy full feeling causing another wave to crash over me, clenching around him tightly to milk everything out of him. 

Jisung groaned deeply above, hips driving it to me as we rode our pleasure together. The wild sounds coming from his lips fall muffled to my ears, still ringing as I struggled to come down from the high. I could vaguely feel Jisung slowly slip from me, hand coming to touch my swollen center, fingers slipping in my drenched hole to push our shared cum back inside of me. He settled next to me, fingers still inside me, but wrapping his free arm around my waist to bring me closer to him. 

“You did so good, sweets, so good for me,” Jisung noses at my ear, whispering praises into my ear to bring me back to him. The hand not in me, caressing my skin, the coolness of his touch grounding me. I hummed, turning my head into his chest, hands tracing his chest and stomach. 

“I’ll be good for you, Jisung,” I murmured into his cold skin, a small smile gracing my face when I felt his lips touch my forehead. A nice blanket of exhaustion washes over me, my body immediately relaxing despite the coldness of the room. I remembered whining when he finally took his fingers from me, body lifting from the bed, taking the comforting cold with him. 

I was on the depths of sleep when I could feel something warm and slightly rough wipe gently at the wetness in between my legs, before was that lotion on my legs? I blinked up lazily, moving to try and sit up as I watched him apply lotion to my legs so carefully, hands kneading at my thighs and calves. 

“Sungie…” 

His eyes flashed to me holding so much affection, so soft that I wanted to cry. He leaned his head down, bringing his lips to the inside of my knee as he finished the last of the lotion, but continuing to rub his hands on my skin. 

“Sweets, I think I’ll have to keep you.” 

It was quiet for a beat, the weight of his words settling. I watched as Jisung almost shrunk into himself, as if his confession would cause me to run away screaming. I furrowed my brows at him, his eyes stuck to my legs, lips barely moving from where they rested on my skin. I sit up, hands grasping at his arms to pull him towards me, pushing him down to lay down on the bed, head nestled against the pillows. He watched me with an unreadable gaze, yet his body pliant to every touch I made. I pulled the blanket from under us, making sure it covered us both completely. 

“Keep me then.”

Falling asleep with Jisung felt familiar and strange. The coldness should’ve bothered me, the coolness of skin should have alarmed me, but I only felt peace as I slipped away, eyes closing. If only I had noticed him watching me, noticed the way he went into himself again, maybe I could’ve prevented it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I gasped awake, the heat of the room becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as I stumbled from my bed. I rushed towards the kitchen, opening the freezer to grab an ice pack, moaning as it touched my skin. My eyes watering wondering when I wouldn’t feel the desire to do this anymore, but truthfully never wanting the cold to leave, wanting it to stay permanently engrained to my skin. 

It had been days since Christmas, four days actually since I woke up back in my room, alone and hot. I hate it. I missed him, desperate to see him again, but it appeared as though it was a dream. The club seemed to have vanished, no search engine finding the magical winter club. My one and only attempt to ask Damian had me blanching, it was as if his memory was erased, the only thing he could tell me was that he had one of the best night’s sleeps he’s ever had. 

I stood in my bathroom, naked in front of the mirror as I dragged my fingers down my body, tracing over every teeth mark and bruise left over. The largest marks being on my breasts, nipples still raw, begging for the same abuse. I could feel him still on my body, feel him come inside of me, the ice cold sensation something I will never be able to forget.

Each passing day brought me closer to insanity, the overwhelming need to be surrounded and engulfed by coldness becoming too much. Damian had murmured his concerns before he was set to leave to spend a few days at his, let’s refer to him as his special friend, who had returned home the day before from visiting their own family. Damian had said it was too early to spend holidays together which left me rolling my eyes. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be good?” He eyed my from the door as he finished shrugging his jacket on. I was wearing a large hoodie over my pajamas, feet covered in my new pair of Jack Frost socks, an impulse buy from two days prior that I even spent for same day shipping. I had successfully hid every mark from Damian, thankful I lived on the top floor of our home, free to dress how I wanted and needed to. I had just pulled an ice pack from the freezer, placing it behind my neck as I turned to wave him off. 

“I promise, I’ll be okay, I think I just might be coming down with something,” I shrugged and threw myself on the couch, turning the television on to put the Jack Frost movie on. I heard Damian groan from behind, most likely tired of watching this movie as I’ve replayed it about 15 times in the last 3 days. 

“Uh huh.. well I’ll be back after New Years, call me if you need me okay?” His gaze was worried, but he shot me a soft smile that I returned. 

“I will, have fun! Tell Tris I said hi!” He calls out a last goodbye as he shuts the door to our townhouse, locking it behind him. The smile on my face drops as I turn back to the movie, ice pack falling onto my lap as I stared blankly. I pull the large hoodie off my body, gasping finally once the heat left my body, dying to feel cold. I had opted to wearing a Christmas themed pajamas set, a tank top with a snowflake in the middle and shorts littered with them. Each day my clothing had become more revealing, trying to find the cold again. Damian had refused to let me put the AC on, stating that even if it wasn’t super cold outside, he wouldn’t allow me to turn the house into a freezer. 

It wasn’t until the movie was almost done that I realized I was crying. The bottom lip quivering as I watch Jack blow the cold air over Elisa’s bouquet. A loud sob bursts forth before I can stop it and I am suddenly overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions. Was I sick? How could I feel so much for a stranger in just a night? Why did it have to be him? 

I longed to regret that night, to forget it the way Damian could. Erase it from my memory just as the club seemed to have vanished into thin air. I could try and hate it, hate every second of that night. Of him. Of how he made me feel, how he touched me. But nothing could take away the way he looked at me. A look full of longing and hope, as if he finally found what he was looking for. 

I sank down off the couch, bringing the ice pack up to my face as I continued to cry. The coldness of the pack numbing the burning of my face. My chest heaves for air as I curled up into a ball, laying on my side. My eyes shut, my body shaking as I let myself finish releasing my emotions. I felt empty and more alone than ever, fingers tightening their grip around the ice pack, holding it against my chest now. 

I close my eyes, no longer caring if I finish the movie. The carpet rough on my cheek as I sniffed and brought a fist to wipe my tears. 

“Fuck you, Jisung, for making me cry,” I pout and toss the ice pack away from me. I sat up, bringing my knees up to my chest, looking off to the side at the window. I laid my head against my knees, arms wrapping around my legs. 

“I miss you, Mr. Frost,” pout becoming more prominent, I shut my eyes, tired of seeing windows without fresh frost on them. The ending song of the movie begins to play when I notice that the temperature of the room seemed to drop. For the first time in days, I shivered, the cold nipping at my nose, causing me to blink my eyes open in confusion. 

Icy blue orbs met mine, full of guilt, sadness, and desperation. My mouth fell open, eyes unable to stay put long enough on just one part of his handsome face. His blue hair framing his honey skin that seemed to have bits of frost decorating him so beautifully, so perfectly. Fuck him. 

“I missed you too, sweets,” I don’t respond, don’t move, just continue to stare. I can feel my chest begin to heave as I become desperate for air, the frostiness around us somehow providing the comfort I had been desperately seeking for days. Jisung slowly brought his hand to my cheek, eyes full of sadness, blue lips parting as he could see the dried tear streaks. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”

“You left me.”

“I know.”

“You said you would keep me.”

“I.. I know, sweets.”

Jisung hung his head, hand still holding my cheek. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, moving my legs out of the circle of my arms, crossing them as I crossed my arms in front of me. 

“Well?”

“I-“ Jisung audibly gulped and shifted from his crouched position, sinking to the floor to mirror me. “I talked to Chan-“

“Santa!” The glower immediately became present, his eyes narrowing at me. I raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly schooled his reaction, sending me a sheepish smile, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. 

“Yea.. Santa.. well I talked to him.. well about you and it’s just-“ Jisung cleared his throat, fingers raking through the blue locks holding onto them. “It’s not often that we meet people and the Man on the Moon can be really particular and Mother Nature can’t always sway him sometimes, he can be a bitch sometimes- Wait, no!” His head shot towards the window, eyes wide as if the Man on the Moon was going to storm in the room. “I mean I’m extremely grateful to him because I wouldn’t be me, Jack Frost, if it weren't for him, but, it’s a lot. Being what we are, what I am. I thought it was just the heat of the moment-“ I snorted causing Jisung to pause. 

“I don’t remember there being much heat, but okay,” he chuckles now, the hand he had on my cheek moving down my arm. Jisung turns to me again, eyes full of hope and affection. 

“You know what I mean, I just- got in my head, but truthfully, Sweets, I missed you. So so much and I’m also just Jisung and your just _______ and I really, really just want to be with you.. I’m sorry I had left you for so long, I shouldn’t have.”

I continued to stare at him, trying so hard to not give any emotions away as he finished. The pit of hope blooming inside of me, he came back for me, he does want me. He was a stranger, he doesn’t know me and I only know Jack Frost, not Jisung. It would be ridiculous to begin anything with him. Insane even. 

“Are you going to leave me again?”

Jisung immediately shook his head, hands grasping at mine, bringing them up to his lips. I couldn’t contain the shiver once his cold lips grazed my knuckles, easing the heat that I’ve grown to hate.

“No, I won’t.”

I stared at him for a moment before pulling my hands from his grasp and standing to my feet, walking around him. 

“Can’t believe you stopped holding my hand,” I grumble, stopping towards the kitchen to pour a glass of water. 

“Sweets, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to,” Jisung follows me pouting, the cloud of frost following him, falling into my cup as he crowds into my space. “I would’ve kept my fingers inside of your tight pussy forever if you’d let me.”

I gasp, slapping his chest. “Jisung!”

“What?” He laughed, smile bright as I leaned into him not realizing, taking a sip of my water as I roll my eyes at him. “But I promise you, Sweets, I mean it, I want you.”

His hands rests on my hips as I keep my gaze focused on my water. 

“Are you asking me to be your Suzy Snowflake?” Jisung snorted, forehead coming to rest on mine. He grabbed the glass from my hand, placing it behind me on the counter. His hand returns to my hip, sliding it to my lower back to pull me flush against him. 

“You think Suzy holds a candle to you?” I blush, hands coming to rest on his chest, taking in his outfit for the first time. A black suit, with a black button up and tie. Fuck did he look so good. I was ready to forgive him completely. His feet were in just socks, even if invisible to anyone else, still took his shoes off at the door. I bite my lip, fingers going to his tie as his hand on my lower back went further down, resting on my ass, squeezing. “Sweets, you’ve ruined me completely, don’t you know that?” 

I stretch up on my toes, lips just barely grazing his before I pulled away. A million questions bubbling in my mind. Hold on now.

“Wait, how did you know where I live?” Jisung blushes now, a shy pouty look on his face. I tilt my head to the side, raising an eyebrow as he mumbled so slow I couldn’t hear. “Jisung, how?”

He drops his head on my shoulder, leaning his weight against me, pushing me into the counter. 

“Chan and Felix told me, they thought it would be creepy if I showed up like this, but you don’t think it’s creepy right? I’m not creepy?” His eyes go wide, huge boba looking orbs as he puffs his cheeks. My hands tighten their hold on his tie. 

Fuck me. 

“No, baby you aren’t creepy,” Jisung melted into me, wrapping his arms completely around me now to lift me off my feet. The crisp coldness washes over me and I grip onto his shoulders, savoring it. Jisung’s lips touch my neck dragging a shiver out of me as he starts to nibble. “Who’s Felix?”

Jisung groans, not moving from my neck, but rather taking a rough bite. I yelp, hand trailing up to his hair to scratch his scalp. “Jisung, be nice to me! I know Santa now.”

A hand quickly swats at my ass, pulling a shriek from me as Jisung hauls me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. Jisung snorts as I pout at him, his hand rubbing where he hit. 

“Don’t be a brat.”

“I just wanna know your friends, baby,” I jut my lip further out at him as he leads us back towards the living room. He sits down on the couch, making sure I am settled comfortably on his lap. His hands rubbing at my bare thighs, goosebumps raising all over. Cold surrounding us completely, he stares at me, eyes intense. 

“I like your socks.”

My eyes widen in surprise before giggling as I glance down to where his fingers reach out to graze them.

“I bought them for you.”

He doesn’t respond, but a smile grows on his face, proud and shy. He pinches at my heel, tightening the hand on my thigh when I giggle again, face falling into the crook of his neck. It’s quiet for a moment, frost settling around us before I raise up again, grinning sheepishly.

“So.. who’s Felix?” Jisung barks out a laughter, eyebrows furrowing as he fake glares at me. 

“You should only care about me! Don’t ask about them, why do you need to know? Are you trying to get with them?”

He crosses his arms and I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his neck to press kisses around his face, the last one a gentle touch to his lips. Jisung whimpers under me, wrapping an arm around my waist, the other hand moving down to my ass. We press closer together, mouths opening to for our tongues to meeting.

We moan in sync, the cold touch of his tongue erasing the mountain of loneliness that I had felt for days. It felt so right, every inch of my body covered in frost, as we pulled each other closer, his teeth biting at my mouth. With one last nip on my bottom lip, we separate, a string of spit connecting our lips. His thumb swipes at it, sucking on his appendage for our shared liquid. I shiver in his lap, my hands cradling his cheeks, thumb swiping over them. 

“You’re so silly, Mr. Frost, I thought it was obvious I only want you,” Jisung blushes, hands falling to my hips, rubbing circles in time with the strokes I made on his cheeks. 

“I only want you too,” I giggle, rubbing my noses on his. “And to answer your question, Felix is…” Jisung trails off, looking to the side with a pout. “The Tooth Fairy.”

“The Tooth Fairy!” I jump in his lap, hands falling on his shoulders as I stare at him wonder. Jisung hisses, his hands clenching them on my thighs as I wiggled on top of him. “I can’t believe you know the Tooth Fairy, you’re so cool,” Jisung smirks at me as he shrugs, doing his best to appear nonchalant, but the tips of ears turning red gives him away. His hands knead my ass, pulling me flush against him. 

“I mean, it is pretty cool. We have the club as a way for us to convene-“

“Hey, wait- I’m sorry to interrupt, but speaking of the club! Where the fuck did it go?” 

He winces, nodding his head in understanding. “Okay yea, that’s my bad, I totally spaced on this,” he runs a hand down my arm to grasp at my hand and pull it up to his lips, taking his time to lightly bite the pads of my fingers as he continued to explain. “It’s magic. I wasn’t lying when I said we stay open during the holiday for people that don’t have anyone to share it with. It also serves as our home, you saw my space, we each have our own. And again a place for us to hold meetings. So then when it’s not a holiday, the club turns invisible to the mundane eye. Mother Nature says it’s for our protection.”

There’s a shortness to my breath now as I did my best to concentrate on his words, nodding my head in understanding. The fire inside of me grew, watching as he murmurs against my fingers, content, eyes meeting mine as he stops at my thumb. Our breaths growing heavy, the hand he kept on my ass trailing up my back to rest on the nape of my neck, bringing me closer to him. Every exhale he made sent the soft frosty air into my mouth, leaving me salivating and wanting. My eyes drooped, trying to focus on the conversation at hand, but struggling the longer he continues to look at me. 

“I have a lot of questions, Ji-“ he nodded his head, mouth opening to probably assure me that he’d answer everyone of them. I press my thumb, still grazing his bottom lip, to firmly stop him before he could say anything. “But we’ll have time for that later.”

I ease off his lap, sinking into the space between his legs, resting on my knees, hands rubbing up and down his body. Jisung’s breathing grows ragged, icy blues eyes intensifying as my fingers met the button and zipper of his slacks. 

“I want you, Mr. Frost.”

“You already do, Sweetness,” his voice his rough, as I undo his pants, sliding the zipper down slowly.  He leans forward shrugging his suit jacket off, the black button up straining on his shoulder and chest, bulging around the muscles of his biceps.

“I meant to tell you I love your suit.”

“Yea, baby?” He lifts his hips to help me pull his pants further down, bringing his boxers down with them. His dick springs forth, already hard and leaking from his tip. I mock gasp at him, thumb rubbing the pre-cum leaking out of him. He whines as I take him in my fists, tongue taking a kitten lick from the tip. I moaned as the coldness touched my tongue, the icicle length stinging as I pumped him, flicking my wrist every so often. 

I wrapped my lips around him further, tongue laving at the underside of his hard length. I take him deeper, leaving him a moaning mess above, his head back against the couch cushions, eyes screwed shut and the cutest pout on his lips. The absolute fucked out expression spurs me on as I lift up, popping him out of my mouth to spit on him before taking him again, mouth freezing as my nose brushing against the skin of his pubic bone. 

Every noise he releases goes straight to my pussy, aching hole leaking and clenching around nothing. I knew my shorts and panties were ruined at this point, the wetness dripping, soaking me completely through. The hand I had kept on his thigh for support, trails down to my center, gargling around him as my fingers tickle my covered clit. 

He shouts a curse, a hand pulling my hair from my face to watch me take him in my mouth. I move my hand from around him, placing it on top of the hand on my head, encouraging him. He takes the opportunity, guiding my head up and down on his icicle, holding me down. My mouth hangs open, tongue out as he begins to thrust into my mouth, whimpering each time the tip of his dick touches the back of my throat. 

“Sweets, oh fuck, Sweets, so good, baby, such a good baby,” Jisung’s voice is rough, his breathing puffing clouds of frost. “Sweets, I’m gonna cum,” Jisung’s hips stutter, gagging me as spit drools from my mouth onto his dick. “I don’t wanna cum in your mouth.”

Jisung pulls me from him, lifting me to my feet, hands going to the hem of my tank, mine going to the buttons of his shirt, but I’m unable to even get one of the buttons from his rushed pace. He lifts my shirt over my head to the side, hands moving next to my shorts and underwear, hissing when he sees the mess I made. His eyes trail further down until they see my socks, drawing a laugh from me as he looks at me, begging. 

“You don’t know what you do to me, baby, we’re keeping those on,” Jisung doesn’t wait to get undressed himself, dragging me onto his lap, legs going on either side of him. He rucks his shirt up just enough to see where we will be connected. 

“I need you, Sweets, I shouldn’t have left you, I’m so sorry,” Jisung hands are hurried, one gripping my ass, the other going to his dick, swiping it against my drenched hole. I slowly sink down onto him, the cold dragging a silent moan from me, mouth falling open as I welcomed him back inside.  My arms wrap around his shoulders, nose at his temple as he begins to move my hips up and down his length. “I’m gonna make it up to you, I promise.” He punctuates his words with a rough thrust into me.

“Oh, Ji,” I move down, lips going to the underside of his jaw, sucking at his skin. I circle my hips, swiveling a figure eight, sinking deeper down on his length, satisfied by the fullness of him. His brings a hand forward, cold fingers slipping on my clit. I shriek, squeezing around his dick, drawing more curses from him. 

Each grind of his length taking me higher, mind going numb, the cold all-consuming. Jisung’s head lifted, eyes glazing over as he looked at the marks still on my body, before they darkened, head dipping down to make them fresh. 

I groan as his teeth start their own mission to mark my body. Jisung took away the dark cloud that had developed over me since he left. A rational part of my brain wants to slap myself for becoming so attached to this stranger, but as he pulls away, a small smile on his face, fingers running over the swells of my tits, teeth marks prominent once again, I ignored that thought. 

Each glide caused the frost to grow, breaths mingling once more as we continued our slow and sensual connection. We held each others gazes, mouths open and touching, his fingers returning to my clit as he drew circles once more. Jisung’s suddenly moves his hands to grip under my thighs, keeping us connected and moving me to lay my back on the couch with him hovering above me. He watches in fascination, my tits jiggling with as he starts his pumping into me again. 

“I have so much to make up for, never having you gone from my side again, fuck you were made for me,” Jisung emphasizes his point, fingers pinching my nipples and pulling them, smirking as I wailed from pleasure, eyes watering from the intensity. Grinding his hips roughly after a harsh thrust, as if he was trying to sear us together. My hands grasp onto his clothed biceps, frustrated I couldn’t feel the complete chill of his skin. “Should’ve never let my Sweetness alone for so long, what was I thinking, wasn’t nice of me at all, huh?”

I shake my head at him, tears of pleasure leaking from eyes and cunt, drenching my face, his thighs and lower abdomen. Jisung groans, fingers going to pinch and rub at my clit rapidly, the noticeable fluttering and tightening of my hole egging him on to pull my orgasm out. 

I cry out his name, my vision blurring as the first wave hits me, washing over me, leaving me shaking as he continues to thrust inside of me, his own orgasm rearing its head. Jisung grunts, leaning down to touch our foreheads together, hand slipping up around my neck. The air he releases is freezing now, flurries of frost hitting us as he drills into me, hips jerking sloppily. My mouth falls open, tongue out which Jisung takes the opportunity to lewdly spit inside, whimpering seeing me swallow it. Everything about him was cold to touch and leaving me yearning for more. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Sweets, you want it?” I nod my head, lifting the hand around my neck to my lips, sucking his fingers into my mouth, teething at them. Jisung’s other hand is holding on the crook of neck, thumb pressing into my collarbone as he pummels into me. I had long already felt the second orgasm rushing ahead, ready to be released. “Of course you do, my dirty Sweetness, gonna take it all,” Jisung releases a wild groan, hunching forward his length releases a fountain inside of me, triggering my second release. 

The ice cold sensation overpowers me once again, eyes falling closed as he caresses me through it, taking me back to early Christmas morning. The care he had taken towards me, his gentle touch that had rubbed lotion into my legs, that had continued the same treatment after the several other rounds we had completed that night. I run my hand through his hair, his head buried in my neck as we both came down. I turned my head to the side, pressing my lips firmly to his temple. 

Jisung slips out of me slowly, wincing at the grimace on my face, fingers taking their place inside, pushing his cum back inside of me. He grabs my shirt from the floor, wiping at his dick first so he can watch his fingers pump out of me. The cold doesn’t dissipate, etching itself inside of me. He pulls away to clean me and then his fingers. 

“My shirt,” I pout, causing him to lean over to press a kiss against mine. He’s lifting me from the couch, wrapping my legs around his waist again, my hands holding onto his shoulders. 

“I’ll you another pajama set, one with my face on it, now where’s your room,” I grumble at him, pointing towards the staircase to the second floor. “I’ve got days to make up for, Sweetness.”

He begins the trek up the stairs, his pants still undone, half hard dick still hanging out. I couldn’t help, but grind my lower half against his stomach, biting my lip as the wetness transferred onto him. He about trips on the last step, hand flying out to catch us. 

“You know how you can make it up to me?” He whines as I nibble on his earlobe. 

“Tell me, Sweets, whatever you want.”

I grin devilishly, tongue laving at the skin below his ears. My bedroom door is open, neon lights glowing blue, the air dropping as soon as he steps us in. 

“You really want to make it up to me, baby?” I whisper to him, pulling away to rub my thumb on his blue lips. He’s nodding his head, mouth opening to suck on my thumb, teeth scraping against it. He’s in front of the bed now, strong arms tightening as I kept my slow grind against his stomach. 

“Anything, Sweets, please.”

I hold the smirk in now that he’s looking at my face, keeping my face open, eyes begging at him now. His icy blues intense, full of desire and affection, mouth still sucking on my finger. 

“I want-“ he nods his head, encouraging me to continue. “I want to meet ALL your friends.” 

Jisung stills, even the frost in the room as he stares at me. Before he drops me on the bed, causing me to bounce and catch myself before I fell off. He scoffs and glares at me, taking off his clothing as the temperature drops even more. 

“You’re annoying,” I burst out laughing, falling to the side as I watched him undress, glaring and grumbling. He turns me on my stomach, swatting at my ass I continued to giggle, gasping in mock offense.

“Hey! What did I say, you have to be nice to me! Or else!”

He slaps my ass even harder this time, body coming over mine, head coming next to mine. 

“You really think you’re on the nice list?” Jisung snorts above, the hand that slapped my ass now gripping it harshly. “Maybe I should tell Chan what a bad girl you actually are,” he ruts his bare dick against my ass, his hard length drawing a moan from, the icicle a rod of searing pleasure. I lifted my hips, grinding up into him, hushed moans passing through my lips. “Maybe, I’ll even tell Jeongin, you know close we are to New Years, you wanna fuck that up for yourself, hmm?”

I gasp as his hand falls roughly on my ass again, his other fisting at the strands of my hair, pulling my head back so he can bite at my neck. 

“You-“ I heaved in frosty air, eyes nearly rolling back as he straddled my hips, keeping my legs together, before sinking into me from behind, groaning at the tightness of it. I cry out as he begins a punching speed, thrusting into me with abandon. “Y-you know Baby New Year!?”

“You’ve got to be fucking-“ Jisung growls in my ear, arm coming to wrap my neck, putting me a chokehold, not enough to hurt me, but to pull me up to my knees, back flushed with his chest. His thrusting never ceasing. “Such a fucking brat.”

“‘M your brat.”

“Yea, Sweetness,” he lips gentle as they touched my cheek, his free hand tweaking my bitten nipples. “You’re my brat forever, you got that?”

“Yes, Mr. Frost.”

The night passed in a blur, the cold filled pleasure knocking me down, leaving me weak to it, desiring for him and frost no matter how many times he filled me. I struggled to sleep, scared of what would happen in the morning. If he would still be there when I woke up or would I be met with heat. With a burning fire that would consume me and I’d be left roaming the Earth, seeking to be cold once again. 

I wasn’t sure when I finally did end up closing my eyes, Jisung having wrapped me in his cold arms, thin blanket resting over us. His fingers trailing over every mark, new and old ones that he made fresh again. He had spent a significant amount of time rubbing oil into my ass, the teeth marks having been so deep, he remarked I could get them tattooed. 

For the past 4 days, I awoke gasping and sweaty, sensual dreams becoming nightmares. The heat of my room forcing me to either take cold showers or an ice pack to rub on my skin. This morning however, it was only one thing, which caused my lips to tilt up as I snuggled in further, the coolness of it lulling me back to sleep, content knowing it would stay with me forever. 

The frosty air of Jack Frost nipping at my nose. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Holidays! I hope everyone had a wonderful time doing whatever it is you do and thank you for taking the time to read. XOXOXOXOOXO

I want to make it clear that I do not condone plagiarism in any form. All of the work I create is original. Please do not copy or reproduce my work without proper permission or attribution. 

[coquettetoji]

{⚡️} GETO SUGURU MOODBOARD

★ geto suguru general hcs ★

— now how do i even begin with this fine ass man

— he’s 6’5, lean muscular with a mf 8 pack like those hawaiian rolls from costco, they’re so defined and just them + his pale skin is 😏

— towers over everyone, will do that arm next to your head leaning towards you against the wall type of thing just to get you acting up

— his hands are big, not huge but definitely really big, they’re bony and veiny but callous

— his ears are pierced on each side, he has a diamond stud on both ears. he also has a nose ring on the left nostril

— left handed mf, don’t ask why he just is **also wears silver rings, suguru isn’t a gold typa guy 🙁

— his voice is really smooth and deep, like it has a certain vibrato to it that just makes me wet go feral alongside everyone else

— genetically has perfect teeth, also has a tooth gem on one of his canines, his tongue is pierced too

— has a lot of tattoos, but they aren’t huge just small ones scattered throughout

— hair hair hair hair hair hair hair hair (it’s perfect) it’s jet black and wavy, pieces are always falling in-front of his face but it’s so hot

— only wears the color black, white, or any type of neutral tone color. you’ll probably never catch him dead in like a bright yellow shirt

—onto personality, this boy literally has puppy mentality

— like he’ll act super big and tough but once he’s around people he’s comfortable with he just melts

— has a very sarcastic sense of humor, half the time people don’t even know if he’s joking or serious now

— gym rat alongside gojo, they’re designated workout buddies

— loves physical touch as a whole and is definitely a golden retriever type of guy even though he looks kinda scary and mean

— his favorite hobbies are cooking and drinking, as for cooking he’s cooking at like a culinary chef level it’s scary

— also loves street racing, kinda illegal but kinda fun 😏

— has a very high tolerance when it comes to drinking, will probably get a bit tipsy after 7 or more drunks

— drives a bmw with black exterior and red interior, it also has skylights he installed himself (he’s a car guy)

— he’s a big partier when it comes to drinking and smoking but is so chill about it, like he’s so calm while the rest of his friends are just screaming

— has super fast reflexes? and it’s really hot? like really really hot?

— honestly always on his phone bc he’s a tiktok guy, he doesn’t post thirst traps they’re in his drafts but he just finds the videos entertaining

— listens to a variety of music but his top choices have to be keshi, and brent faiyaz ** hes also an apple music user 🤢

— definitely has a flirty personality but is super shy but people flirt back to him, honestly a cute guy stuck in a fuck boy’s body is what i’m trying to say

— extremely respectful to his elders, will gladly help a grandma cross the street any day!

— in all, he’s definitely a 6/10 on fuck boy scale, he’s just such a sweet and respectful guy and we love him #INEEDYOUSOBADPLEASEGETO

💌 new message from mica ‧₊˚✧

ive been procrastinating so much with posting i’m sorry to my 37 followers ( appreciate y’all ) 🙁🙏

the hair omfg 😫😫😫😫

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - 003

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [5.7k] based on 1x03.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death/grief, creepy older man behavior, pining/unrequited love, assault/mild violence

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ In regards to all published chapters, this one is my favorite.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

YOU PICKED UP THE OBJECT, SLIDING IT TO JOHN B THROUGH THE CRACK IN THE STONE.

“That’s not gold.” Pope spoke despondently with a childish frown.

“Holy shit,” John B spoke, ignoring his friend's sadness. You climbed your way back out of the tomb, dropping next to JJ who helped you dust yourself off as JB continued speaking. “This is from my dad.”

It was a bittersweet moment, hope that maybe this wasn’t all for naught. However, the rev of an engine in the distance made your smiles drop, a golf cart pulling up in the distance. You all began shoving each other out of sight and behind the tomb, panic clearly present.

“John B, your light!”

“Turn your light off.” You all hissed at him, the boy being the only one with his source of light still bright and kicking. From your distance and the lack of daylight, none of you could tell whether it was the square groupers or not, but you all decided to throw all caution to the wind when it looked like the person in the driver’s seat had a gun. 

“Screw this.” Kiara said, getting up and bolting, the rest of you following quickly behind her. You almost knocked one another over trying to jump the fence, everyone making it smoothly besides Pope, who managed to get stuck. By his pants.

In your rush, you all practically ripped the boy off the gate, leaving his pants behind before piling in The Twinkie and speeding off, giggles filling the vehicle. 

“ARE YOU INTENTIONALLY IGNORING THE MOLD ON THAT BREAD?” You questioned, disgust written all over your face as JJ spread peanut butter all over the mold-ridden slice. You were back at the “safety” of The Chateau, waiting for John B to build up the courage to open the package — a large white FedEx envelope, ‘For Bird’ written across it, the nickname his dad had given him. 

“I’ll just pull off the bad parts,” JJ reassured with a shrug, putting the slices together. “Plus, mold is good for you.” You made a sound of disgust before leaving the small kitchen space with the blonde trailing behind you, the two of you stopping behind John B who was seated, looking over his shoulder alongside Kiara and Pope.

Taking a deep breath, he ripped open the package quickly, JJ gagging behind your head after taking a bite of his sandwich, a sass-filled ‘told you’ leaving your lips as your eyes focused on the items John B was pulling out of the parcel.

The first thing was a map — black and white with notes on it. Coordinates, The Lighthouse and The Cut labeled on it, some kind of whirly drawing, and X marked over some area. The next thing was a tape recorder, blue, small and dusty.

John B paused for a moment before pressing play. The mechanism came to life, a static cassette-like sound coming through before a voice was heard.

“...Dear Bird,” The nearly forgotten sound of Big John’s voice filled your ears, just as deep and brassy as you remember, the southern twang in his speech causing a small smile to form. “I hate to say ‘I told you so’ but, I told you so. And you doubted your old man…I suspect at this moment, you’re filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight. But don’t kill yourself just yet, kid. I didn’t expect to find The Merchant either.” 

You wondered if you heard that correctly. Big John had actually found The Royal Merchant? Looks were shared amongst the group but nobody said a thing, letting the recording continue.

“You were probably right to call me out. Wasn’t exactly father of the decade. What can I say, kid? I could smell the barn… hopefully we’re listening to this in our brand-new sugar shack down in Costa Rica, livin’ off passive investments and pulling on permits. If not, and you find this for less than optimal reasons, well…that’s what the map is for. There she is, The Wreck of The Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started. Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn’t always act like it…I’ll see you on the other side.”

And then the tape was ending, leaving you with a million more questions than you all had walked into this with. The house was silent, you all silently anticipating what John B was going to say or do. If he was going to cry or scream.

You sighed when the boy got up, chair scooting harshly across the floor as tears became evident in his waterline as he turned around and practically collapsed against the wall, sobbing. Hugging the structure as he slid down slowly, unable to fully hold himself up.

Kie was the first and only one to walk over to him, laying her head of curls against his shoulder blade in comfort.

“HOW MUCH WAS IT AGAIN?” JJ quizzed, the group of you sitting on the dock outside The Chateau in the middle of the night, nothing visible for miles. Just the stars in the sky and the sound of cicadas.

“Four hundred mil’.” Pope answered, staring out into the distance as he sat on the rail. 

“All right, let’s talk the split.” JJ started. “Now, before you say evenly, may I remind you that I am the only that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us?” He tried, whirling the gun around his finger. “Protection? Not cheap.”

“You’ve done zero training.” Pope reminded him as you taught Kiara chords on her ukelele and John B sipped mindlessly on a beer, paying no mind to the four of you.

“Youtube, bro!” JJ argued back. “That’s at least a five percent bump right there.” 

All you could do was roll your eyes, Kiara’s strumming ceasing as she turned to Pope. “What’re you gonna do with your share, Pope?”

“...Pay for college in advance.” He nodded his head as he spoke with conviction, staring down at his knees. “And also textbooks. Those are expensive.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. You wondered what Pope was gonna do when he realized that school will come to an end one day. “What about you, Kie?”

“Yeah, what does a socialist do when she’s rich?” JJ poked.

“Just…wanna make a double album.” She shrugged cutely, a small smile playing on her lips. “‘Bout OBX, the pogues. Y’know, the way Catch a Fire is about Kingston. Record it at Marley Studio, Peter Tosh producing…”

You could help but make a face, turning to the girl next to you. “Peter Tosh is-”

“Peter Tosh is dead, I know. The Spirit of Peter Tosh will never die.” She spoke optimistically. “And what about you, huh?” She nudged your shoulder playfully. “Got any big plans for your cut?”

You stared up at the sky, a look of thoughtfulness on your face as you bit the inside of your cheek. “Travel.” You said simply, looking back at the friends around you. “With Marley, of course. Paris, Italy, Thailand, Japan… Oh! Bora Bora…” You spoke dreamingly. “I’d send you all postcards and, like, candy and shit from each place. I’d come back home every now and then, though.”

“You’d take the dog with you?” JJ questioned.

“Um, yes,” you answered like it was the easiest thing in the world. “...Marley and my guitar are the only things I really have left of my dad, everything else is memories and pictures, and I think taking Marley with me would be like taking him too, in a way. He always wanted to travel, anyway. Just never had enough money and too scared of planes. So, I hope the airlines are okay with me booking a first-class seat for a 65 pound Golden Retriever.” You chuckled. 

“I know what I’m gonna do.” JJ shrugged nonchalantly.

“And what’s that, blondie?” You whipped your head towards him, kicking your feet against the wood.

“I’m gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight and go full Kook. Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I’m gonna get a koi pond.” You and Kie couldn’t help but share a look, bursting out into giggles.

“I’m never visiting.” She said through her fit of giggles, JJ simply shrugging at her statement and throwing a piece of grass he'd been rolling into a ball at you. 

“What’re you gonna do, JB?” Pope asked the boy who hadn’t spoken in almost an hour. You all anticipated his response, not even knowing if he would respond.

He simply smiled smally, not making any moves to look at you all. “...To going full Kook.”

IT WAS THE NEXT MORNING AND YOU HAD ALL ALREADY BOARDED THE HMS POGUE, A DAY OF SUNLIGHT NEVER WASTED. JJ whistled, lowering his shades and eyeing the boat coming towards you all and heading in the opposite direction. “You guys see that? That’s the Malibu 24-MXZ, the world's finest wakesetter. Number one in luxury, quality, and performance.” You liked seeing this “nerd” side of JJ — the one who knew heaps of information about bikes and cars and boats. 

“I hate to break it to you guys but that’s Topper and his girlfriend.” Kie spoke nastily, eyeing the couple coming into clear view next to the five of you. The two blondes eyed the group of you down without shame, even behind their blacked out sunglasses you could tell.

Sarah lifted the aforementioned shades from her face, giving you all a distasteful glance, eyes lingering on you and Kie before averting her gaze back in front of her.

“You don’t have to act like you don’t see us, bitch.” Kie spoke, not yelling but loud enough for the couple to hear if they hadn’t sped past you all. 

“Did you see the way Topper was clinging onto her?” You snarled, the statement directed more at Kie than anyone else. “I’d take more pride in the boat than her, if I were him. She’s probably already onto the next guy and he has no idea.” You concluded, sipping on your ice cold beer.

“SWEET LORD, THE INTERNET!” Pope practically cheered as the group of you ran into the study room of the Kook hotel that you were pretty sure you’d just snuck into. He ran to the computer, pulling out the map from John B’s backpack and wasting no time entering them into some website he was using, Earth Search. Lord knows how he found it but it was Pope you were talking about.

“34°57’30” north. 75°55’42” west…” He muttered, fingers going a mile a minute across the keyboard. 

“The continental shelf?” John B queried over the boy’s shoulder. 

“That’s off the deep end…” You pointed out, leaning over Pope’s other shoulder. The website continued zooming in on the destination, footsteps and voices outside of the closed door had all of your hearts pounding as you waited.

“It’s on the high side. That’s only 900 feet.” John B added after it had expanded enough.

“Only?” You questioned, eyeing him with a look that said ‘are you crazy?’.

“C’mon, that’s do-able.” JJ spoke up from behind all three of you. You turned to him with the same expression, standing up slightly from your bent over position and planting a hand on your hip.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Aquaman. Do you plan on guiding us down there?” You retorted.

“Will we be taking your personal submarine?” Pope backed up.

“Ha ha.” The blonde shot back at you both, grimacing. “No, smartasses. The salvage yard has a drone that can drop one-thousand. Three-sixty camera and everything. It’s exactly what we need.”

“Aaand can your dad get his grimy little hands on that?” John B asked.

“My dad’s grimy little hands are what got his ass fired. But the drone’s in the impound yard in the back.” Sly, hopeful smirks were shared amongst you all before you shot up, gathering everything and rushing towards the door, Pope at the end of the line shaking his head.

“Can’t we do anything legal for money?”

“WHY DO WE HAVE TO DO THIS AGAIN?” You asked from the back of the van that had just arrived at the impound lot.

“Because, you’re two hot teenage girls that have the power to entice the middle-aged man at the front gate.” John B told you bluntly. You curled your lip at his statement.

“That wasn’t creepy or mildly perverted at all… Let me out.” You demanded, JJ sliding open the van door to let you as Kie hopped out of the passenger seat. 

The two of you walked the short distance to the truck you’d be driving around the corner to the impound lot, Kie swinging the keys around her finger.

“We got this?”

“Hell yeah.” You smiled, giving your best friend a low high-five and hopping into the vehicle, engine starting as she twisted the key.

It was less than two minutes before you pulled up the gate, spotting the man inside of the booth to the left. You both got out of the truck, waving your hands to gather the man’s attention.

“Hello?” Kie called. “Excuse me?” The man’s attention was diverted from whatever he was reading, your presence prompting him to get up and out of his seat, leaving the tiny building to approach the gate from the other side, a stoic expression on his face.

“Can I help you ladies?”

“Hi,” You flashed a bright smile, shoving your hands in the back pockets of your shorts. “We have a flat tire.” You pouted, not missing the way his eyes roamed your frame for the briefest of moments. “We were wondering if you could help us out?”

The security guard looked around for a moment, as if maybe this was something he wasn’t supposed to be doing before nodding. “Yeah.” A mischievous smirk spread across his face.

“Yeah?” You reiterated cutely as he retreated back into his booth to open the gate. You turned to Kiara with a knowing look on your face, a playful side eye.

“How do you do that?” She asked with a small chuckle. You simply shrugged. 

“It’s all in the eyes.” You taunted, watching as the man returned. Leading him to the back of the truck, Kiara gave the guys, who’d been hiding, the signal to go.

“It’s this back one. Must’ve been a leak or something.” You gathered the older man’s attention, attempting to keep it on the truck for as long as possible.

“Probably just been sitting in the yard too long?”

“Yeah…” Kie cutely replied. 

“I got this.” The guard replied, trying to seem all macho and manly. You watched as the three boys slipped their way into the gate. It was silent for a few moments as he worked on the tire and you and Kie tried to keep a non-suspicious look out.

Minutes passed before a dog’s bark was heard, loud and incessant. The security guard paused in his movements.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what?” You and Kiara said simultaneously, trying your best to act unbothered.

“Tebow’s got something…” He pondered aloud. 

“Y’know how dogs are,” You scoffed with an awkward smile, trying to dismiss his concern. “He’s probably... terrorizing a squirrel or somethin’.” You offered.

“...Yeah, yeah.” It seemed to be a good enough answer as the man got back to working on the car. Suddenly, Kie was discreetly leaving your side and going to the other side of the truck, you questioned what she was up to before you heard the low hiss of air leaving a tire.

The guard must’ve heard it, too, his movements ceasing again before looking up. “Hey, where’d your friend go?”

“She, uh, had to pee really quick.” You tried to dismiss his concern carelessly.

“...There’s no bathroom out here.” He spoke, standing up to his full height now, equipment in hand. 

“Y’know, how it is,” You chuckled nervously under your breath , shoulders square as you became visibly tense and tried to side-step and block his path. “When a girl’s gotta go…”

He didn’t say anything back, quickly walking past you in wide strides to the other side of the truck, catching Kiara releasing air from another tire. “What’re you doing?!” She stuttered to find words before the man was dropping the equipment and running into the impound lot.

Your hands gripped your hair. “Shit.” You cursed, scurrying to get back into the truck with Kie. There was nothing you could do to aid the boys now. You could only hope they had enough time to grab the gear and go as you and Kie sped off.

AFTER REUNITING WITH GUYS, who had successfully stolen the drone, Kie offered to feed everyone down at The Wreck. The sun had gone and it was nightfall, the diner lit up dimly by the time you’d all arrived in The Twinkie.

“What I would do with a beer and shrimp 'n grits right now…” JJ longed, hopping out of the door.

“Amen.” You agreed. “The crimes I would commit for a single fry right now are horrendous.” None of you anticipated how hungry stealing drones, flirting with creeps, and running from dogs would make you. 

Upon entering The Wreck, you were met with shadowy lights and a few leaving guests, the restaurant close to its closing time. The boys ventured off into the seating area while you and Kie stuck around to greet her father. 

“Hey, Mr. C.” You smiled, greeting the older man with a hug. 

“Heyy, kid. It’s been a while. It’s good to see you smilin’.” He greeted back enthusiastically, patting a fatherly hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, dad.” The girl hugged her father. “How’d we do?”

The older man sighed, shaking his head and drawing his lips into a thin line. “Didn’t turn it over once.” You and Kie shared a look of pity for him, small frowns on each of your faces.

“It’s probably just bad luck because of the storm.” The brown-haired girl tried to reassure her father. 

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell the banks that.” He grimaced.

“Guess now is not the best time to ask for free food for me and my friends?” She attempted sheepishly, peering back at the three boys eyeing the food like shelter dogs. 

Her father’s demeanor did a complete one-eighty. “Look at them,” He started, eyeing the trio of boys with disgust. “They’re greedy pelicans. I told you to stop hanging out with them.” He told his daughter, eyes drifting to you. “The both of you...” He added.

You hated the way Mr. C spoke of the guys. They were your best friends and he, himself, used to live on The Cut. He talked about them like a purebred Kook, like someone who has never known poverty. Sometimes, you thought he held a grudge against you for bringing Kiara into your friend group with them. But you’ve known her just as long as them. 

“Everybody at the Kook academy hates us, Dad.” She protested, shifting her weight and rolling her eyes.

“‘Cause you never gave them a chance.”

“We did give them a chance.” She argued back for the both of you, knowing you weren’t likely to step in against her own father. “They got all stuck up on us. They care more about shoes and coke than anything else, I mean, what’re we supposed to do with that?”. All the man could do was sigh, Kiara looking back and JJ, John B, and Pope pitifully. “Those are our friends.”

“Look…I gotta throw it out anyway, might as well take it.” He caved. Bright smiles broke out on both of your faces, the two of you encasing the man in a bear hug before releasing him and turning back to the three boys who were patiently waiting.

“Sit down.” Kie said, the guys cheering and pulling out seats. It wasn’t long before Mr. C brought the food out — french fries, crab legs, soda, chips.

The guys ate like they’d never eaten before. Maybe they really were hungry pelicans.

The Wreck had closed by the time you guys started eating though, allowing you to play music on the eatery speakers while you ate.

At some point Kie, who’d been dancing by herself, invited John B to get up and dance with her, the brunette accepting the invite. However, one absentminded glance to your left had you watching Pope, who was watching them. He looked sad.

You never thought about that — Pope having a thing for Kie. You couldn’t really picture that in your head but you still felt bad.

In a group of three guys and two girls, someone is bound to catch feelings for someone. 

Breaking your gaze on Pope, you looked around to find JJ staring at you. You flashed him a smile and tossed a fry at him to which he caught in his mouth, you both bursting out with laughter.

THE FIVE OF YOU WASTED NO DAYLIGHT THE NEXT MORNING, testing out the gear the second the sun reached its peak. Kie and JB were under the water helping to test out the quality of the camera, both of their faces seen on the pixelated screen.

“God bless geeks, Pope. Truly.” JJ spoke over the boy's shoulder. You were sitting on the wooden railing, legs swinging and adorned in nothing but your bikini. “What would we do without you to control the drones?”

“Technically, it’s not a drone, it’s an ROV-”

“Shut up. Shut. Up. It’s too early for that right now.” You chuckled under your breath at JJ's dismissal, you wondered if JJ and Pope ever got tired of bickering. They were like brothers or an old married couple, either or. Just then, the pair in the water came up for air, John B shaking the water from his hair and being the first to speak.

“Hey, once we get footage of the wreck, we’ll bring it to a lawyer in town and file a formal claim.” He threw out. “We can go through your mom.” He directed the statement at you.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, even if they were squinted from the sun beaming in them. “I wouldn’t trust my mom to help us. It’s like she’s been in cahoots with Shoupe ever since we moved to Figure Eight and everyone knows he really works for Ward.”

“Why would we have to do all of that anyway?” JJ asked the boy in the water.

“There is a maritime salvage law.” Pope cut in. “You can’t just go to the ocean floor and scoop a bunch of stuff up.” You’d been examining the equipment while they talked amongst themselves. Noticing something before speaking up.

“The tether on the ROV is really long. In the wrong kind of weather, it could get pushed around.” You said, turning to face them. “We should go at dead calm. It’s our best option.” 

“And today is not that day.” Pope said, eyeing the sky that was turning a dangerous shade of gray in the distance, a storm brewing. 

“YOU THREE GET THESE GROCERIES TO FIGURE EIGHT. GET STRAIGHT BACK HERE WHEN YOU DONE.” Heyward told you, JJ, and Pope. “I promised delivery by this afternoon.”

He handed JJ the last of the groceries, the blonde piling them onto the platform in the middle of the boat before Pope got the engine going. Heyward’s boat moved faster than the HMS Pogue, you were on Figure Eight territory within minutes, the boys eyeing the properties and estates like puppies.

“It doesn’t even look like the storm hit here…” Pope said, astounded, staring down one of the bigger houses. He had a point, the house looked like the storm purposely moved out of its way.

“It’s ‘cause they got generators, bro.” JJ began, his disdain for Kooks peeking through in his tone. “And then they say the juice will be out all summer at The Cut.”

“It must be nice to be a Kook.”

“Lucky bastards.” JJ shook his head, you simply ignored them. They weren’t wrong and technically, you were now a Kook yourself so you had nothing to add.

Financially, you were a Kook. But you’d always be a pogue at heart. 

“Isn’t that your place?” Pope pointed out, speaking to you. Your house was coming into view up ahead.

JJ whistled at it — the exterior was polished, the yard was kept, the trees were trimmed, no weeds or overgrown plants obstructing the view of the home. Your house wasn’t as old as most on Figure Eight, it has only just been built when your mom bought it a few months back. You could even see Marley running a muck in the yard from the boat.

“Look at that beauty. Must be nice going home to that every night, huh?” JJ poked.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the blonde. “You’d be surprised.”

YOU WERE ON YOUR LAST DELIVERY OF THE DAY,  the three of you had split up to get the last of the orders done quicker. You and JJ had completed yours but Pope had to go through the golfing trail behind the Country Club, so you’d figured he hadn’t finished yet and you both decided to go after him.

“You can’t seriously tell me that you don’t like living on this side of the island.” JJ kept nagging about how much life had changed for you. You wished he would drop it.

“It’s not Figure Eight that I hate, JJ. It’s the people. I don’t know them and they’re all assholes.” You started, walking alongside the blonde, watching the Country Club members golf. “I’d feel safer taking a walk on The Cut at night than I would here. Might get jumped by some coked up college kids.”

“Meh.” He started. “I wouldn’t let that happen. And if it did, y’know we’d find those guys and kill ‘em. Rocky Balboa style.” He joked, throwing air punches and making sounds that made you laugh. 

“What the hell?”

You heard someone exclaim in the distance, you and JJ sharing a look as your laughter died and you slowed in your steps. The voice sounded eerily like Pope.

“You owe me for that!”

The pair of you started sprinting, arriving just in time to catch Topper swing Pope to the ground after snatching the beers he was supposed to be delivering out of his hands. Pope was shoeless and his hat had come off, sand and blood littering his face.

“What the fuck?” You yelled, not even taking into account Rafe’s presence at the moment. 

“Hey, hey!” JJ shouted, running over to Topper and snatching him up by his collar. You didn’t know what was happening, all you know was that all of a sudden, Pope was charging at Rafe who was quick to whack him in the stomach with his golf club before hitting him over the back with it.

The sound of metal hitting his spine caused you to flinch. “Stay down, bitch!” Rafe screamed. You stood frozen in place, a fear you’ve never felt before. But you knew why. You were hoping, praying, pleading that he wouldn’t notice you were standing there. That he’d be too caught up in his own rage to see you.

Topper had managed to push JJ off of him in an effort to calm Rafe. You took the opportunity, with Rafe’s eyes on Topper, to try and aid your beaten friend. You kneeled next to him as JJ stood angrily off to the side, probably making sure Rafe wouldn’t try to pull anything else. 

“Pope…” You muttered, voice laced with concern as you examined his face — blood between his teeth and sand in his eyes.

Your hair was shielding your face slightly from Rafe’s view, you were sure. “Hey, no, don’t help him,” He started, raving and ranting. “I said don’t fucking help him!”

Breaking past Topper’s defense, the man stomped toward you before kicking you over, a grunt falling from your lips. With you now laying in the sand on your back, clutching your side in pain, he could see your face clearly with your hair splayed around you, no longer obstructing his view.

“Leave them alone!” JJ tried, but Rafe was quick to swing the club in his direction as Topper stood anxiously behind him, but his eyes were still on you. You hadn’t seen him in months, the same goes for him to you. All he did was chuckle, a laugh with no amusement behind it as he crouched down above you. 

Even while you were in pain, you managed to glare at him, a mean snarl on your lips as you tried to control your breathing but every intake of air hurt. “Where you been hidin’, sunshine?” He spoke softly but so menacingly. When his finger trailed across your bottom lip, you used whatever energy you had left to bite down on the digit. Hard. “Ah- fuck! You stupid bitch! I’ll-” He lifted the club up, preparing to slam it back down until Topper gripped his shoulder.

“They got it, man! Let’s just go.” He urged, Rafe eyeing your figure on the ground, breathing heavily like a bull. His eyes then scanned JJ and Pope before he spoke.

“We don’t want you over here, you got that?” He warned angrily, eyes landing on you once more. “Any of you.” That was all he wrote before Topper was pulling him away from the scene, the two boys disappearing. 

Your mind was racing a mile a minute, probably faster. You rolled over, ignoring the searing pain in your side as you pushed yourself up. You felt a hand on your arm , trying to help you but for some reason...it just made you angry.

“I got it.” You strained out.

“Let me help you-” JJ tried.

“I don't need your help, JJ!” Then his hand was reluctantly leaving your arm and offering it to Pope who brushed him off in a less aggressive manner as you stood to your full height, a slight limp as you began walking away.

The walk back to the boat was silent — suffocatingly so. Nobody said anything when you boarded, or when Pope got the engine running, or when you passed all the houses on Figure Eight. 

You didn’t expect JJ to sit next to you, especially after yelling at him. “Listen, I don’t know what happened out there, alright? And maybe you’ll tell me or maybe you won’t but I mean seriously, are you guys just gonna let them get away with that?” He scoffed angrily.

“What’re we supposed to do?” Pope shot back.

“I don’t know, something, man! Anything!”

“...Turn the boat around.” You spoke up from where you were sitting, an idea sparking in your rage-filled mind.

“AND WHY NOT RAFE’S BOAT?” JJ spoke up from your place across the water, eyeing down Topper’s brand-new boat.

“Because,” You started, stripping down to your bikini. “Rafe doesn’t have boats. They all belong to Ward. This? This is Topper’s personal possession. So, we go for him.”

The answer seemed satisfactory enough for the blonde as Pope also took off his shirt. “They hit us, we hit them.” He said before turning to you specifically. “I know you’re a swimmer-slash-diver and all but I don’t think you should be swimming in your...condition.” He warned, eyeing the large bruise blooming along your side.

“I’ll be fine.” Was the last thing you said before jumping into the water, Pope splashing in close behind you. You both swam your way over to the speed-boat, jumping onto it. It took seconds for Pope to release the seal that kept the boat from sinking, water bubbling into the base of the wakesetter as you threw your fist against the windshield, effectively cracking the glass.

The pair of you dove back into the water, making your way back to a bandana and sunglasses clad JJ who was waiting. Climbing back on to the boat, Pope handed JJ the plug to which he chucked farther into the ocean.

“You can’t tell anyone.” Pope spoke breathlessly, watering dripping down his frame.

“I won’t, dude-” JJ assured

“No, not anyone. Not Kie, not John B, nobody, got it?”

“Got it.”

NIGHT HAD FALLEN ONCE AGAIN. It was like it never ended as of recently. You were all back at The Chateau, the events of earlier still fresh on your mind and the ache in your side still throbbing to remind you.

“You really think it’s out there?” Pope asked JB. The boy simply shrugged in response.

“My father thought it was.” 

“...But do you?” Pope reiterated. The sound of crickets and cicadas filled the silence as you all waited for him to answer, thunder rumbling in the distance.

“After hearing his voice on that tape? I think I do.”

 “We’re gonna find it.” Kie reassured.

JJ yawned, stretching on the hammock you two were sharing with Kie as Pope and JB shared the other. You and JJ were squished on one end with her on the other. “I’m gonna dream about shipwrecks.” He spoke through his exhaustion, his arm somehow landing behind your neck and curling it towards him, effectively shoving your face into his neck. “And I’m taking this one with me.”

“JJ!” You muttered against his skin as they all laughed. "Let go of me, Maybank!" Your muffled voice came through as you struggled to push the blonde away.

“Shh, just let it happen.”

IT WAS THE NEXT MORNING AND YOU WERE STILL HALF-SLEEP BY THE TIME YOU’D BOARDED THE BOAT. John B wanted to get a head start on this whole ‘X marks the spot’ thing and you’d reached the spot where the Royal Merchant was allegedly sunk by noon. 

“Alright, ladies and gentleman,” The brunette spoke, far too chipper for how early it was. “To going full Kook!” He cheered as he and Kiara lowered the ROV into the water slowly. They fed the cord down inch by inch, monitoring everything and JJ steered the boat.

“Alright, JJ we’re right over it!” JB called out. “Ten seconds northwest!”

“Ten seconds northwest, got it.”

You were leaning against the side of the boat, watching the screen with Pope as you struggled to keep your eyes open. The morning breeze hit you every now and then, in nothing but your bathing suit and a large shirt, a lazy attempt to avoid questions about what happened to your side until you could come up with an excuse that your friends would believe.

When Kie was about 400 feet of rope deep, thunder rumbled in the sky, causing your eyes to examine the ocean. “The tide’s turning.” You warned tiredly, perking up slightly at the change of events. John B directed JJ to change the direction of the boat, over and over again until they got it right.

The storm was getting scarily close, so close you could see it building in the distance. It suddenly got strong, pushing the boat back by at least a couple of feet. It became a frantic fight against the storm, with Kiara warning John B that they may lose the ROV and John B instructing JJ on how to navigate the boat while you and Pope kept an eye on the visuals.

Kiara was at 950 feet and you and Pope still couldn’t see anything, even when JJ managed to steady the boat once again.

“Okay, we’re on the floor.” You announced, signaling to Kie that she could stop feeding the rope. 

“You should be seeing something-”

…

“You see anything?!” JJ called from behind the wheel, the four of you staring at the screen in disbelief and relief.

“It’s The Royal Merchant.” John B said as you all watched the ship come into view, clear as day.

next chapter >

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

SVN Taglist; (let me know if you'd like to be added!) @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm @i-love-ptv @liability28 @rivaiken (striked means i'm unable to tag you!)

©loveharlow.