#he could be so great i hope they make him great

[ameliathornromance]

The Other Woman - Part 2

A/N: I'm blown away by the support you guys have given me with this part. I want to thank everyone who commented on the first post and gave me feedback! I'm always happy to recieve constructive critisim to make my work better for you all. This part 2 is a little different from how I usually handle part twos, so I hope you guys enjoy!

Link to PT 1

Your eyes itched as you dragged them open the next morning. The tears you shed last night had completely exhausted you by the time you got back to your room in the Palace, you had just flopped into bed without changing, skirts covered in melted icing.

A part of you was glad for it, as you had something to distract yourself from the soreness of heart break in your chest. You had no idea what you were going to do when you headed to court. The King’s personal guard would be there, and as far as you were aware, he hadn’t seen you the previous night.

Which means to him, nothing had gone wrong between the two of you.

You weren’t sure what to do knowing that. You could: A) Pretend nothing is wrong, carry on with this affair like you’d never seen what you had, or B) End things with the Orc and live with the guilt of what you did for the rest of your life.

Option A was just too difficult for you to do. You couldn’t bare the thought of doing something so heartless to that lovely Orc lady who worked in the kitchens. She was too kind to you, and always willing to lend a shoulder when you needed it… She would be a great mother.

So, it looks like option B is the only way to go.

As you finished remaking your bed, a shaky sigh escaped you as you leaned against your mattress, trying to steady yourself to face the day.

Leaving your quarters, you walked through the halls with your head in the clouds, thinking about how exactly you were supposed to end this affair. Would the King’s guard be angry? Upset?

After stewing on it, a wave of indignity washed over you. Really, none of this is your fault, it’s not like you were aware of his marriage. So, why should you be the one to break it off?

Of course, the last thing you wanted was to stay with the Orc, but if anything, he should be the one ending things with you! He was the one who chose to lie to you and hurt you in that way.

But how would you send that message to him? It’s not like you could just tell him what you saw. He might try to convince you to stay with him and you would not be persuaded into doing such a thing.

… Maybe, if you ignored him, he’d get the message and just leave you alone? Then that way, he’d know that you were angry with him and then, he would have no choice but to apologise to you. He’s not a stupid Orc, he should realise sooner or later what you were upset with him about.

But then, how do you regain your dignity as a Lady?

You chewed your lip as you greeted the Queen, apologised for your lateness and then followed her, alongside the other ladies in waiting to the throne room.

Thinking about this anymore would have to wait. You had a job to do as the Queens lady in waiting.

Their excited whispers brought you back down to Earth.

“Do you think that he’s handsome?”

“I don’t know, have you ever seen a forest dweller before?”

“Well no, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not good looking!”

“(Y/N) what do you think?”

“Hm?” You looked over your shoulder at the others. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve really been all over the place this week haven’t you?” One of the ladies said, “you know we’ve been preparing for the Forest Fae? Well, the Lord of the Forest Fae, is apparently, devilishly handsome. And, he’s not married or in any other kind of commitment with a woman or man!”

Another one of the ladies giggled, “do you think he’s come here looking for someone to marry?”

“Unlikely.” The third lady said, dismissively. “Men of any species love to flounder, even when they’re married. Why make their promiscuity more complicated than it has to be? You agree with me, don’t you (Y/N)?”

You didn’t answer. Due to recent experience, you had no interest in trying to romance a Fae Lord, there was no point in trying to if he was so easily led astray. “All men seemed to be like that.” You said, callously. “Even if he is loyal to those he sleeps with, I’m not looking to marry a Fae Lord.”

“Oh come on (Y/N), don’t pretend you’re not even slightly interested!”

“Ladies,” The Queen shushed and all the other women fell silent. “Gossip is unbecoming of all of you. If any of you wish to become involved with the Lord, I’ve heard he’s not one for those who spread rumours.”

Upon reaching the throne room, all the chattering of the ladies had fallen silent.

The doors to the impressive room opened, the Queen, you and the other ladies in waiting taking their respective places next to their mistress as they waited for the Fae Lord to make his entrance.

Sunlight caught the Queen’s glittering necklace, making you look around in surprise. And infuriatingly, you caught the King’s Guard’s eye. He smiled at you, eyes kind and wide like he was expecting you to return it.

Instead, you whipped your head away from him and locked on the throne room door. Other courtiers bustled around the room, discussing whatever was on the nobles minds at that moment in time.

For now, you would just have to stick to your plan of ignoring him. What else could you do until you could think of something more suitable for vengeance?

Soon, the doors to the throne room opened and the whole room fell silent.

The first few Fae glided in like they were sliding on ice, their ethereal beauty suffocating and snuffing out any other attractive person in the room. There were eight of them, four entering from opposite sides of the doors, who twirled in what looked to be spider web like dresses, their skirts sparkling in the light as they came to a stop, their long blonde hair falling down their backs with an eery gracefulness.

One of the ladies next to you mumbled something about how the Fae were so lucky, but you were so focused on not looking around at the Orc standing beside the King, that you couldn’t hear what the rest of her sentence was about.

After the graceful – and attention stealing – dance, a Fae man, taller than the others you’d seen so far, graced the courts prescence.

His hair was so white you might have thought that he was an old man, if not for his smooth skin untouched by aging. His eyes were deep pools of black that threatened to suck you in and never let you go, while his smile was kind and serene.

The Fae Lord came to a stop a few feet away from the thrones, and bowed his head. “Your Majestys, it is so wonderful to see you all again. I’m so pleased that I could finally make this trip like my father before me.”

“And we are pleased to have you, my Lord.” The King returned. “As it’s your first time staying here at the Palace, we’ve prepared a little celebration in honour of your new position…”

As the King droned on about how he hopes that this will be the new beginning of a fruitful alliance between humans and Fae, yada-ya, a chill went down your spine.

While the King’s announcement had been going in one ear and out the other, you brought yourself back into the room and carefully searched for the source of your discomfort… only to find the Fae Lord, looking directly at you.

You stood a little taller, returning his gaze in an attempt to be polite. When you gave him a polite inclination of the head, his smile widened as the King finished his speech.

“And so, we will have this little ball to welcome you and hope that your stay will be as comfortable as possible.”

“Yes,” the Fae Lord said, airily. “I’m sure it will be.” He turned to look back at the King and inclined his head once again. “I appreciate that the ball isn’t until tonight, and since this is your court, I’d like to ask if I can be a little forward, your Majesty?”

The King frowned, but nodded his head.

“You see, I couldn’t help but notice that lovely lady standing over there,” the Fae Lord pointed at you, “and was wondering if it would be too much for me to ask her for her first dance tonight?”

Your eyes widened.

The other ladies beside you, nudged you in the ribs. “So it was you he was looking at! I was wondering why his eyes were wandering, I thought he was just bored!”

Face burning, your eyes darted to the Queen and in the process, caught sight of the Orcs face.

His nose was scrunched up as he snarled, “awfully cocky, aren’t you?”

The Fae Lord ignored the Orc as he looked at you once again, hands behind his back.

When you looked at the Queen, she smiled at you and jerked her head to the Fae. “Well? You don’t have to ask me for permission, Lady (Y/N).”

All eyes on you, you bit your lip and sucked in a deep breath. Most of all, you could feel the Orc’s eyes baring into the side of your skull, like he was trying to make you face him, daring you to accept the Lord’s offer.

But the image you saw the previous night, flashed through your mind.

Spite leading you, you answered the Fae Lord. “I’ll have my first dance with you, my Lord.” You said, firmly.

The Fae bowed his head to you, “I look forward to it, my Lady.” And with that, he said his goodbyes to the King and Queen before the entire court was dismissed.

The rest of the day went by with a bubbly air, all the ladies sneaking glances and smiles at you as you went about your day.

You, yourself, could hardly believe that you had accepted the dance. It was true, you weren’t interested in romancing this Fae Lord in the slightest… but if it meant that you could piss off the King’s Guard, then you would gladly accept anything else that the Fae Lord had to offer.

After all, it’s not like the Orc could jump in and say that you couldn’t do something, people would get suspicious then.

As soon as the Queen had sent the ladies in waiting to go and prepare for the ball later in the afternoon, they all pounced on you.

“I can’t believe it!” One of them said as they took you by the wrist. “He really asked you, in front of the whole court!”

“It’s just a dance,” you told them all as you made your way back to your apartments. And that was all it would probably be, you told yourself. “It was just formality that I accept him. It would have been an awful start to his stay if I had told him no.”

“But even so, to ask you in front of the entire court!” Another one of the ladies squawked. “He must really like you.”

“We haven’t even formally met.” You said.

“Oh can’t you just be romantic for one minute?!” The first Lady huffed. “I’m imagining a star-crossed lovers romance, where he dramatically proposes to you just before he’s about to leave, flying through the corridors, abandoning his carriage in search of you-”

“Alright.” You said, firmly. “I get it. Well you can have your fantasies all you like.” Once you reached your apartments, you yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind you, locking the other ladies outside.

Sliding to the floor, you pulled your knees to your chest and squeezed. When you’d first started seeing the Orc, all you did was fantasize like that. Dream of running away with him and sharing all sorts of romantic ventures together.

But any kind of desire for that experience had left the moment you saw his wife.

You didn’t want to colour all men with the same brush, but a betrayal like the Orcs, isn’t something that you can just shake off.

And although it gave you the slightest bit of pleasure to know that the Orc was angry with the Fae, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to get caught up in the romance of it all. He may be the exact same as the King’s Guard for all you knew.

And… you didn’t want to end up hurt again.

Once evening finally did come around and you joined with the other ladies in waiting – who were all too eager to have you be the leader of the group – the ballroom was full of chatter, people drinking and watching couples dance in the centre of the room.

“Oh, he’s not here yet?” Frowned a lady beside you, “don’t worry, he’ll turn up soon I’m sure, most of the other Fae are here. You should sit by the entrance that way, he’ll see you as soon as he enters.”

The suggestion made you want to roll your eyes. While you were going to dance with this Fae, you didn’t want to be seen as desperate for company. Taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter, you decided to hover to the side of the room.

As you sipped on the delicate glass, your eyes scanned the room where you spied the Queen dancing with the King, the other ladies mingling and chatting animatedly with other guests.

You caught yourself glancing at the entrance to the doors a lot. Keeping an eye out for the Fae Lord. You had to keep internally slapping yourself. This was just a means of getting back at the King’s guard.

And perhaps it was because the King’s guard was standing opposite the room, within perfect line of sight of keeping an eye on you that you were eager for the Fae Lord to arrive.

The Orc’s eyes glazed over the room, mostly following the King, but occasionally, he found you.

Anger boiled in your veins as you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the doors to the ballroom.

Even now, the Orc was good at keeping his affection for you a secret.

A part of you wanted to throw the wine glass in your hand at him, just to keep him on edge.

But, before you could put your thoughts into practice, gasps echoed around the room, drawing your attention to the ballroom doors.

The crowd parted as the Fae Lord’s eyes searched the room and found you. His eyes lit up at the sight of you and he passed through the crowd of people, and held a hand out to you. “There you are,” he said, smiling. “What are you doing hiding in the shadows over here? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be hidden away like this.”

You shook your head as he took a wine glass from a waiter and sipped from it, “do you mind if I have a drink before we dance?”

“No, not at all my Lord.” You replied.

Over his shoulder, you chanced a glance at the Orc, whose eyes were now locked onto you and the Lord.

The Fae spoke, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your name first before asking for your dance, my Lady…?”

“(Y/N).” You answered smiling. “Thank you, for asking me for this dance.” You held your hand out to him, which he took and pressed a kiss onto your knuckles. A pleasant chill ran up your arm.

The Fae Lord bowed his head as he took another sip from his glass. “It’s an honour that you accepted. I should be thanking you for not humiliating me in front of all those courtiers.”

You chuckled at that. “I wouldn’t have done that to you, that would’ve been cruel, even if you were being very forward.”

“I just don’t have a care for all of these silly procedures,” the Fae said, waving his free hand around the ballroom. “There’s no point in any of it, I’d have preferred that the King and I just talk about what I’m here for and then to just leave, you know. But, a simple ball isn’t so bad.”

“So, you’d say you’re a simple man?” You asked.

“Completely.” The Fae finished his drink and you rushed to do the same too.

“My Lady, please, don’t do that on my account, we have the whole evening to dance, you can take your time.” He pulled the glass by the stem away from your lips.

You frowned, holding your free hand up to cover your mouth. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting, it would be rude of me to do that.”

With a sly wink, the Fae Lord said in a low whisper, “if I didn’t want to be kept waiting by you, I wouldn’t have asked for your first dance.”

You gave him a suspicious look, to which the Lord replied, “I want to get to know you, (Y/N).”

“Why?” You asked, shortly. “We’ve never even met before.”

The Fae Lord didn’t flinch at your tone. Instead, he searched your eyes. “Because, it seemed as though you were in need of some cheering up.” He said, simply. “And I don’t like seeing people upset.”

With a gentle smile, he patted your shoulder. “Don’t feel like you have to tell me what’s going on right now, after all, we did just meet each other. But whenever you’re ready, I’m here if you want to talk.”

You stared at him. Was he being serious? As you looked into his eyes you could sense no malice, no playfulness or manipulation in his face… Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to give this Fae a chance?

Once you’d finished your drink the pair of you took to the dance floor.

And for the next few days, he always made a point of talking to you. At first, it was mundane things, how did you sleep? Did you eat breakfast yet? Before it became more involved questions, like what your family did for business, asked about your other ladies in waiting and if they were doing well.

And gradually, you started to look forward to your little chats and began to ask about him and his life. It turned out he was an only child and took the Lordship after his father had died of some kind of tree associated illness.

He was funny, had a quick wit and was fond of lymerics. He liked the smell of morning dew on grass and the way the forest smelt after a rain storm. Oh, and he enjoyed rum cake.

Your stomach bubbled with excitement every morning now at the prospect of seeing him around the Palace and speaking to him in the evening, the Orc barely even crossed your mind anymore.

Except for when you were on your way to your apartments one time, and the Orc ambushed you from a dark corner of the halls.

“What is with you?” He snarled at you. “You’re completely ignoring me in favour of that pretty Fae man.”

You didn’t spare the Orc a glance and kept walking. “He’s nice to me.” You shrugged, “I can’t talk to other men?”

“It’s not just talking to other men!” The Orc hissed. “You’ve been ignoring me and the gifts I leave you, along with letters as well! Whenever I enter your rooms to give you something else, the other gift is always left unopened!”

He grabbed you by the wrist, forcing you to stop in your tracks. He tightened his grip, “did I do something wrong?” He asked you. “Tell me if I have, I will do what I have to do make up for it.”

Anger flared like a fire stoked with gunpowder. You wanted to yell at him, to shout at him that he should go back to his wife, confess that he was an adulterer and that he should be begging for her forgiveness.

But for some reason, you couldn’t let that anger escape. It refused to climb up and out of your throat. You shook your hand free of his grip. “You really want to fix it?” you hissed. “You can leave me alone. Pretend that this never happened. Take your hush gifts and give them to the person who really deserves them!”

And with that, you stormed off to your apartments.

Once you were inside the drawing room, you let out a groan of frustration. Of course, going off with the Fae Lord was definitely one way of getting revenge… but it didn’t feel like it was enough.

You still felt awful for the Orc lady, who was pregnant with that adulterers baby. There had to be something else you could do… some other way of getting back at him and really sticking it to the King’s guard.

And then, an idea came to you. It was a risk to ask, sure… but, the Fae Lord really seemed genuinely interested in you. And he did say himself that he would be open to listening to you if you had any problems. Who knows? Maybe he would be up for your revenge too.

So, that night you arranged a private dinner for the two of you, away from court to tell him what was really going on.

He was perplexed by your request to meet him in a place away from the public eye, but never the less accepted and arrived to dinner with that same pleasant smile he always gave you.

“What’s all this about?” He had asked as you finished setting the table.

You intertwined your fingers together and clasped them in front of you, as if you were about to start praying.

“… Do you remember when you told me that you could sense a sadness within me?” You asked. And over dinner, you told him everything. The secretive meetings, the presents. As you told your sombre tale, you realised how badly it all truly sounded.

Of course, the affair was awful enough on it’s own… but the fact that the Fae Lord had been unwittingly helping you in your payback, would come across as you using him.

And as you finished with the climax of your story, the Fae Lord’s fists clenched tighter around his cutlery. His jaw tightened.

You bit your lip, wanting to explain yourself. “I have to say that your asking me to dance in front of the whole court was what inspired me to continue on with this plan of revenge. I have truly enjoyed spending time with you and didn’t mean to use you my Lord…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” The Fae spat. “It’s an awful thing for him to do to you, it’s no wonder he was so against us dancing and being seen together in the first place. I had half a mind to complain to the King about his behaviour.”

He knocked the butt of his fork on the table as the Lord looked around your drawing room, like there would be some kind of explanation somewhere. “How dare he use someone like that to get his own rocks off!” The Fae Lord hissed. “And especially you. You should have told me sooner, this isn’t something that you should have to deal with alone!

“No, do you know what?” The Fae pointed at you, “don’t do anything else until I say so, alright? We’re going to get this bastard man-whore… or should it be Orc-whore?” He gave you smug smile as you laughed. “For this plan to work,” he continued, “I’ll need to ask permission from someone before I go through with it.”

You frowned. “Ask permission for what?”

The Fae Lord gave another sly grin, “It’s a surprise.” His smile faded as he reached out across the table with a free hand and took yours in his, “I’ve grown very fond of you, (Y/N) and I hope that you have of me too, so with that in mind, please trust me, okay?”

He was right, you had grown fond of him and his presence. It would be strange for him to not be around in court any more. Your heart sunk in your chest at the realisation that he wouldn’t be around for much longer.

You nodded. Lowering your head, you stared at your empty plate and sighed. “… I feel really silly for thinking that he could have actually liked me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Fae Lord asked, frowning. “I like you.”

You sighed. “I mean honestly liked me. Not just used me as a means to have an affair… I thought that we would get married one day and…” You gripped your skirts.

For a moment, the Fae stayed silent. “You don’t deserve to be loved by trash like him.” He said, firmly. He gave another squeeze of your hand. “And we’ll make sure he knows it. So don’t put yourself down, alright? It’s not you who’s in the wrong, it’s him.”

And once again, he was right. You sniffed. It made you feel a lot better to hear someone say it out loud, and to talk to someone about this affair. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest.

Weeks went by and everything continued on as it had been before. The Fae Lord acted no differently than before your dinner together and the King’s guard grew more and more furious each time he saw you and the Fae together.

He had stopped bothering you since you’d told him to leave you alone… but there was still that foreboding feeling that the Orc was still looking for ways to win back your approval, proved by his scathing looks of the Fae Lord when you and he were together.

And with that feeling hovering in the air at court, you began to realise how stupid you must have been, to believe that you were only worthy of such a deceitful kind of love. You deserved so much more, wanted so much more.

The strangest part about knowing that, was that you felt it might come true very soon. You didn’t know how you could tell, you just knew it.

You began to worry as the final days of the Fae Lord’s stay drew near. There still had been no update on the Lord’s revenge plan and when you asked him about it, he’d always reassured you and given your hands a reassuring squeeze. “I’m just making the final preparations, alright? Don’t worry about a thing, I’ve got this.”

It was all too soon that the final week of his stay around. Everyone in the Palace was suddenly mournful that the Fae Lord and his company would be departing.

The Monday of the week the Lord was going to leave, you awoke to find a gift box. It was carved of wood, the bark of the tree still on it’s exterior and top, with a mossy bow tying it shut.

And as you opened it up, you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight you saw. In a bed of moss, was a necklace made of spider web, droplets of water beads strewn around it delicately. Underneath it, was a note:

I would like to give you a surprise gift every day leading up to the final day before I leave. I hope that if you appreciate this gift, you’ll wear it today and the others that are to come.

Others to come? Was this part of the revenge plan that the Lord had cooked up?

Without a second thought, you put on the gift and when you entered the Queen’s apartments that morning, all the of other ladies practically screamed with excitement for you.

Even the Queen – who never normally allowed herself to be emotional – got involved with her ladies delighted chattering.

The next morning, it was a bracelet made of hardened tree sap – the note detailed that if you licked it, it would make for a good snack – the morning after that, a broach made of butterfly wings.

And every day you wore them, eventually looking more and more like a forest Fae than a human noblewoman.

When the day finally came of the Fae Lord’s departure, you found that there was no gift that morning. Although strange, it didn’t surprise you.

He was leaving today after all, perhaps he just didn’t have time to leave one final gift.

With a heavy heart, you made your bed, adorned yourself with all the gifts you had received that week, and set off to go to court to wish the Fae Lord a good journey home.

Following the Queen to the throne room, the rest of the ladies in waiting seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet. When you gave them strange looks, they all pursed their lips or looked away from you, as if they were trying to hide something from you.

Even the Queen refused to look at you. Although you were sure that you caught a small smile on her lips whenever you all turned a corner.

When you entered the throne room, it was packed with courtiers, all chattering as usual. But there was something different in the air. You weren’t sure what it was, but there was certainly something going on without your knowing.

Once you had taken your place beside the Queen, the doors to the throne room opened and in stepped the Fae Lord with his company.

You had hoped that he would make time for a private goodbye, or at least tell you how his plans for revenge had been progressing.

The whole time you had seen him in court or in other places in the Palace, it seemed as though he was doing nothing to try and help you with your revenge plan.

A part of you wanted to be angry with him for being so slacked about it.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to be. At the end of the day, you’d been able to get back at the Orc in some way; throughout the whole week of you wearing the gifts that the Fae Lord had been giving you, the King’s guard said nothing to you, apart from giving you foul glares from across the room whenever he saw you.

“Your Majesty's, I must thank you for your hospitality these past weeks, it has been nothing but delightful.” The Fae Lord announced.

As soon as the sentence had left his lips, the whole court went silent, hanging onto his every word.

“But, if you do not mind, your Majesty,” he looked at the Queen, “I would like to steal one of your ladies in waiting.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him as the Queen smiled at him. “But of course, it’s been difficult to ignore that you certainly have a favourite among my girls.” She looked at you and tilted her head. “Go on, (Y/N).”

Your head darted between the two. Again, you caught the Orcs eye, who gave you a warning look of carefully concealed fury.

At that, you straightened your back and headed over to the Fae Lord. Once you had come before him, he held his hand out to you.

You took it. Sandwiching your hand between his, he looked you in the eye. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks,” he said, “but they’ve been some of the best weeks of my life. You’re funny and smart,” he lowered his voice. “Vengeful.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, he continued, “but most of all, you make me happy. So, I ask that you come back to the forest with me and be my wife?”

Your jaw dropped and you clasped your hands to your mouth. “You… you can’t be serious…”

The Fae Lord let an abashed smile come over him. “I am… so, if you’ll have me as a husband…” He pulled a ring, made of wood from his pocket, a white, misted crystal adorned the top of the ring. “This is the final gift… I’m sorry that there wasn’t one for you to wake up to this morning, but I felt you may appreciate it more if I gave it to you in front of everyone.” He gave you a knowing look.

You allowed a devious grin to broaden your lips.

An aww escaped the crowd, followed by a few claps. But before you could give your reply, a shout rang out.

“No!” You and the Fae Lord whipped around to find the King’s guard, abandoning his post. “No, this is completely inappropriate!”

The Fae Lord pushed you behind him, as the Orc towered over the pair of you. He jabbed a thick green finger at the Fae, “what makes you think you can just wander in here and take one of the ladies in waiting?!”

“Actually,” the Fae returned, plainly. “Her father gave me permission. I asked him last night before coming here… Unlike some people here, I’m actually upfront with future family.”

Your eyes widened as the court gasped and muttering began to rise from the onlookers.

You gripped the Fae’s arm and squeezed it. “No, please don’t. You’ve done enough.”

He looked at you, then back at the Orc. “Well, it’s all down to (Y/N)s decision anyway.” The Fae Lord raised an eyebrow and smirked. “After all, it’s not like you have any interest in her, is it?”

The King’s guard scowled at the Fae. But he said nothing.

“Come back here, now!” The King snapped from his throne. “Don’t ruin this moment for the Lady (Y/N) any more than you have!”

“But you can’t possibly allow this!” The Orc turned to face the Monarchs.

“I just did.” The King glared at his guard. He looked at you with kind eyes as he went on, “well, what is your answer?”

Looking directly at the Orc, you took the ring from the Fae Lord and slid the ring on your finger as slowly as possible.

The Fae Lord grinned and pulled you into a tight hug as the court let out an applause.

Wishing the court goodbye, you and the Fae Lord turned and left, without even giving a second glance to the Orc, who was left in the centre of the room, stunned.

“Now this, was a great revenge plan.” You whispered as the pair of you walked down the corridors.

You bit your lip, “I… I was worried that this was just going to be some kind of holiday fling for you.”

The Fae Lord stopped in his tracks, taking your hand. “My darling, I could never, do that to you.”

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[haoetoile]

two of me are cuter - choi seungcheol

word count: 3,467

genre: smut with hints of fluff by the start!

pairing: newly-married!seungcheol x fem!reader

a/n: i went ia bc of the holidays but now i'm back and finally ready to write this account's first smut (honestly idk if this will turn out great but i hope so). this smut is totally dedicated to @euteamomuitocheol (ily <3) and was kinda based in juno by sabrina carpenter. ps: this was not revised before posting!!

contains: you go to his mother's house with your newly-married husband seungcheol for a family reunion and both of you spend some time with your nephews, which leads both of you wanting a baby. reader is described to be much shorter than cheol! smut contains: names (bunny, princess, slut, darling), fingering, oral (m. receiving), nipple play, multiple positions, squirting, mating press, creampie, and filthy language, slight dumbification if you squint (?) , basically, a breeding smut. if i missed any warnings, please let me know!

sat at your vanity, you finished to loosen the last curls you had just done with the babyliss. after that, you inspected carefully all traces of your makeup to see if there was anything unblended or smudged before getting up, there was no need to clean up the vanity now as you could do it once you got back home

to be honest, you always loved to go to seungcheol's family reunions, as his family was very welcoming and supportive to your relationship since the very beginning of it, and his parents treated you like their own child. you also really loved to spend some time with mom, who would often teach you new recipes to cook and find cute and amusing how eager you were to learn seungcheol's likings, she would also show you his baby pictures, and tell stories about him and about how she and her husband fell in love, and not to mention his whole family was very supportive of you, like the time when you graduated law school and when your own family didn't even showed up, they celebrated as if it was one of their own blood who graduated

you were looking now at the full-body mirror in your shared room, fixing your black dress so it was correctly in place and smoothed out, when you felt hands gripping your waist lightly

"you look gorgeous, honey" seungcheol's voice was a bit raspy, making you shiver as his soft lips met your cheek for a peck "i am the luckiest man alive for being able to marry you, my princess"

"such a flatterer" you smiled, laughing softly as you heard him chuckle "i love you so much, cheol" you felt him lean a bit more, trying to kiss you "not now, babe, you'll smudge my lipstick"

...

during the car ride, you felt both nervous and excited to get there. you two haven't been able to see his family for 5 months now, as the honeymoon and the newly-wed life was busying you two much more you'd like. his brother's wife had given birth to a beautiful baby girl two months after your honeymoon started, and a month after, it was their eldest twins' birthday, so you were nervous if they'd be angry about you two missing the festivities or not, and excited to meet the new babies

actually, his family was really glad you two were finally back and were really excited to hear about the italy trip you guys made as a honeymoon and was equally excited to receive the gifts you bought while touring around the country and, of course, try all the different wines you bought

...

after giving away the gifts and telling stories about the trip, you found yourself sitting with his brother's wife, talking a little more about the honeymoon and motherhood, as she held little younghwa, the newest addition to the family

"she grew up a lot already" you nearly jumped as seungcheol back hugged you "i remember when you were pregnant" his voice was soft and gentle as he spoke to his sister-in-law, not wanting to wake up the newborn baby

"she truly did. younghwa's being a blessing, she's actually very calm for a newborn and it's not being hard at all to take care of" the older woman said with a smile on her face as she caressed the top of the baby's head

"i feel like it'd be quite hard to take care of a newborn for what i've heard of" your husband replied

"it's not as hard as it seems, you kind of get the hang of it once you have your own, but i swear it's not hard. here, hold her a bit, you'll see how easy it is" his sister-in-law put the sleeping baby in his arms

fuck, you thought, he looked so hot with a baby in his arms. this shouldn't be having the effect it was on you, the idea of getting pregnant with his child suddenly becoming attractive

"see? it's easy to hold a newborn, you just have to support their head well and make sure they don't fall. so, when are you two having a kid too?" the question made you bite your lip, scared of seungcheol's answer

"it seems a bit earlier to have babies as we're still newlyweds, but y/n and i are currently having some fun trying... right, babe?" you blushed at the question "we had really nice tries in italy"

"seungcheol!" you scolded him in a screamed-whisper, stomping on his feet to not startle the sleeping baby on his arms "you don't say those things in public, specially not in front of your family!" you were pretty sure your face was not pink anymore but bright red, and he laughed softly before apologizing

"but it's funny to see you blushing, love~" he laughed again, handling younghwa back to her mother "come here, let's play with the kids"

he guided you to the yard, where the 4-year-olds were playing with a huge variety of toys that seungcheol's parents set up for when their grandchildren would go there

...

you two played for a couple hours with the kids. seeing seungcheol lift them, play with them, hug them, and be a gentle and loving uncle was not helping at all the baby fever you had just given yourself from seeing him earlier, and as if on cue, your little niece looked at him with big, sparkly eyes

"uncle cheol, when are we having a cousing to play with us?" she was sat on his thigh, and her brother, who was on yours, was quick to nod in agreement – god, it had to be a divine sign, no way everyone would be asking you two about kids if not to finally stop your baby fever with what you wanted the most: getting pregnant

"as soon as possible, bubs. me and auntie y/n are having a long conversation with the stork to deliver a baby as soon as possible to our home~" he used a gentle tone, fixing the little girl's bang before releasing her from his grasp, seeing both her and her brother return him the cutest smiles ever

he was just so gentle with them... the soft-spoken way he'd talk to the kids, the bubbly, cheerful way he'd always have around them, the way he was ever so gentle. fuck, you needed to have his baby so bad you could feel your mind fogging up any other thoughts

...

the way back home was quieter than usual, you two would often make some small talk, but you were just so absorbed and distracted by the thoughts of starting a family of your own with him, you'd barely talk if not to answer him

"baby... is there something wrong?" seungcheol asked in concern, using one of his hands to slowly caress your thigh in a soothing way "you seem awfully quiet now"

"i'm okay, cheol, don't worry" you flashed him a quick smile

"really, bunny?" he used that nickname since you two started dating, and yet it never failed to make you blush "you usually are not that quiet around me" he cocked a brow "is there anything you want to tell me?"

as you opened your mouth to talk, he continued "are you like this because everyone seemed to ask us for a child today?"

"actually... yes" you inhaled deeply "but, like, not in a bad way... i mean... you were just so hot with younghwa in your arms, and the way you treated the twins... god, it's giving me such baby fever" you stuttered a bit and could feel your cheeks turning a light shade of pink, but you were also relieved you could finally share your thoughts with your husband

"is that so, bunny?" he chuckled "well, i suppose it's more than fair i knock you up as soon as possible, then" he smirked, squeezing your thigh gently as he reverse-parked into your assigned parking spot

"c`mon, let's take this to the bedroom, then" seungcheol started leaving open-mouthed kisses to your neck as you were pinned against the elevator wall, not caring if he'd leave bruises or not

you tried your best not to moan, biting your lip as he licked and sucked at your sensitive spot, leaving you helplessly wet by any second with just that

"c-cheol" you panted "not here... someone can see us and there are cameras"

"you're right, bunny... but don't think i won't have my way with you once we're inside" he left a last mark on your neck before pulling away, waiting so the elevator would stop at your floor

once inside, you both stepped out of your shoes, and as soon as possible, you were already in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist as you two were in an intense make out session, tongues fighting each other over dominance, sucking the air out of both lungs. you couldn't help but moan, feeling clouded just from the feeling of his mouth on yours, making you get even wetter, as seungcheol was always a good kisser

before you could even say anything, you were already in the room and sat by the end of the bed, with big, veiny hands undoing the zipper of your dress, exposing the black lacy set you wore just for him

"fuck, you look so pretty..." he groaned in your ear, peppering kisses all the way from your jaw, to your neck, to your collarbone, while his hands lowered the thin straps of the balconette bra, making his way to your breasts

your nipples pert up at his advances, your whole body already on fire from the light touches "how come are you even sexier than usual today, bunny? are you trying to kill me?" the raspy voice made your nipples pert up even more, and you just whined in answer

seungcheol laughed at your reaction, and was quick enough to attach his lips to one of your nipples, while his hands undid the clasp of the bra. once he got them away, one of his hands went up to play with the neglected nipple, pinching and rubbing in the same pace his mouth would lick, suck and gently bite on the other nub

you felt wetter by any second, not being able to hold the moans anymore, and as much as you'd like to ask him to stop teasing you, you knew better than anyone seungcheol wasn't going to stop, so you decided to take off your drenched panties by yourself

as your hands slid down to pull the underwear piece south, his hands were quick to stop yours, and your eyes met his face, which carried on a smirk "that desperate already, are we?" he chuckled again "no need to, princess, i'll take care of you" he assured you

seungcheol's hands caressed your curves slowly, as if they were memorizing your body and registering how it felt to touch it, before he finally pulled down your panties "you look so, so sexy, princess... you look so sexy i'm afraid i'll have to mark you as mine, to make sure no one else looks at my princess" he growled softly, earning a mewl from you

his hands pried your legs open gently, as a contrast to his words, exposing your soaking wet folds to him "are you that wet from thinking about how i'll breed this pussy tonight, bunny?" one of his fingers teased the folds, gathering the moisture and spreading it all over the nether lips

you couldn't even answer him, as when you opened your mouth to, his fingers plunged inside your cunt, with sharp but slow strokes. you couldn't help but moan even louder when his fingers started moving faster, while his thumb circled your clit, he needed to prep you for his cock, but god, he had such skilled fingers, he was able to get you dumb just by fingering you

he added another finger, slowly scissoring them inside you, making your thighs quiver and your moans get more erratic. his pace was relentless, and you could feel the coil on your stomach ready to snap, your hips jerking forward with each thrust

"already that desperate to cum, princess? do i have that much effect on you?" he sucked on your neck, slowing down his pace painfully to tease you

"a-ah... cheol, please...." you whined "please, i'll do whatever you want me to if you let me cum.... please" you were practically fucking yourself on his hand by now, moaning and trying to pull the best doe eyes you could to make him give you what you wanted, and who was seuncheol to deny it? specially when you were begging so cutely and offering to be completely at his mercy

suddenly, his thrusts regain the same pace and strength of before, your mind fogging up completely as you could only moan his name, and it was not long enough before you finally let go to the delicious sensation of the orgasm, his fingers still inside you, helping you ride out the sensation 'till the very last wave

"you said you'd do whatever i wanted if i let you cum, right, bunny?" you nodded, still catching your breath, but his lust-filled tone was already enough to make you as horny as you were before cumming "then come here and suck me off like the good little slut you are"

he was quick to strip off his clothes, and you looked attentively as he took each piece of clothing, his hard cock bobbing up against his stomach as he sat down with his back pressed against the headboard

you got on all fours, quickly taking his thick length on your hands, stroking lightly before finally wrapping your lips around him, earning a half moan half groan from the man

"f-fuck, princess... such a good fucking mouth" one of his hands gripped a handful of your hair

you bobbed your head against his length, feeling wetter and wetter as you tried your best to give him a good head, using your hands to stroke him whenever you had problems to fit him entirely inside your mouth. seungcheol was a moaning mess under you, his hips jerking against your face and the grip on your hair like iron

but suddenly, he removed his dick from your mouth, using your hair to do so, and flipped you over, pressing you against the mattress in a not-so-gentle motion. he was being rough but gentle at the same time, and you couldn't deny you were loving it

"such a good little slut, getting my cock all nice and wet... fuck, i'm so lucky you are mine, only mine" he growled, rubbing his tip all over your fold teasingly "i'm going to breed you, to fill you up with my cum and make sure you carry my babies, i am going to fuck you tonight until we're sure i've knocked you up" his words sent a wave of heat through your entire body, making you shiver in expectation, the thought of carrying his child becoming more and more tempting, driving you wild with desire

"p-please... breed me, cheol.... leave me all stuffed with your cum, please" you could only whine, pushing your hips backwards, trying to earn a bit more contact with his shaft, but seungcheol only growled in response, one of his hands moving from your hips to your hair, pressing you against the mattress even more as he buried himself inside your warm walls, the contact making you both moan loudly

he was just so big, you could feel his tip tease and caress your g-spot relentlessly, as he slammed into you with a nearly animalistic ferocity, groaning and dirty-talking to you all the time, but honestly, you were already too lost in pleasure to assimilate his words, being able to moan his name only

even though you were pressed against the mattress, you were still loud, so seungcheol flipped you over, turning you both to a missionary position, where he could swallow each one of your moans, not wanting to get expelled from the apartment you two had just bought

his hips slammed against yours even faster, as he kissed you and his hands roamed against your body, holding your hips, squeezing your thighs, squeezing your breasts, and teasing your nipples. the coil on your stomach was ready to snap again as he deliciously fucked you senseless

"f-fuck... breed me, cheol, please" you whined in a needy way, making him groan audibly

"you're so perfect like this, bunny, begging for me to breed you like the good wife you are, begging to be full of my cum" his lips found your neck, suckling more marks

"cheol... i-i can't hold it anymore, fuck....." you whined "i-i'm gonna cum!" you moaned

"then come for me, darling" he sped up the pace, moaning against your ear as he continued to fuck you senseless

you couldn't hold for long, but you knew he still needed to cum, so even after an intense orgasm, you let him continue to fuck you, his self-control long forgotten, specially as the new tightness of your pussy squeezing him was driving him even crazier

"you're going to take my cum very well, right? you'll need it a lot to grow our child, darling" fuck. the raspy, teasing tone was enough to make you wetter again, and you nodded, digging your nails on his broad shoulders as his thrusts started to get sloppier, signaling he was closer and closer to the edge

not long after, he shot his load inside you in a large quantity, slowly pulling out once he rode out the aftershocks of his also intense orgasm. he looked down at your swollen, fucked pussy, oozing out his load, and before he could even think, he felt the blood rush down to his cock once again, making him groan

seungcheol sat down again with his back pressed against the headboard, smirking knowingly as he saw how wet you were becoming to see his hard-on again

"princess, you're starting to leak out my cum.... how do you expect to have my babies if you keep doing this?" he chuckled "come here...." he beckoned you "i think it's about time i breed you again, just to make sure you'll get out of here throughly knocked up"

you understood his signal, and quickly straddled his lap, aligning his shaft with your wetness. he slid even better than the first time, his own sperm functioning as lube, you started to ride him slowly, picking up the pace gradually as you rolled your hips against his deliciously

the new position made it seem like he was even bigger, caressing your cervix in a way he had your eyes rolling, making you bounce on his cock like you never would do it again, while his mouth latched at one of your breasts again

suddenly, it all became too much again, and you were already crying out his name loudly, your hips losing pace as seungcheol's hands were the ones making the motion of bouncing you on his cock now, and before you could even warn him, your pussy became as tight as possible, gripping him like a vice

"fuck, bunny.... you'll kill me like this, that slutty pussy's suffocating my cock" he groaned, bouncing you even harder as he knew you were about to cum

you were so lost in pleasure and ecstasy, you gave all of you to continue bouncing on his cock until the coil finally snapped again, making you gush out the warm, transparent liquid of your cum

"f-fuck... did you just squirted, baby?" he groaned, shooting his load inside you once again "fucking hell, that was the sexiest thing i've ever seen" he moaned

...

after cleaning up (which he basically did all by himself, as you could barely walk, legs like jelly after such an intense session), you both laid on the bed, cuddling and thinking about the future

"i really hope you get pregnant, y/n. i can't wait to see a baby who look just like you or me running around this apartment" he was over the moon with just the thought alone, and that was the cutest, and also most attractive thing you've ever seen him do

"you're so cute, cheol" you laughed

"yeah, but two of me would definitely be even cuter, don't you agree, honey?" he booped your nose

"i agree, i agree 100%" you smooshed him, making you both giggle "i love you so much, my husband"

"i love you too, princess" he kissed you passionately "but i need to make sure you really are throughly bred" he flashed you a smirk, and that's where you were sure you still had a long night ahead

[uisceb]

Okay I want to talk about this moment between Morrible and Glinda for a sec because it adds such a wonderfully sinister layer to a scene that is otherwise a triumphant defining moment for Elphaba, and it sets up the dynamics for Part 2 so perfectly.

At this point, we are in the thick of “Defying Gravity.” Everyone’s attention is on Elphaba - and rightfully so, she’s up there declaring war on the Wizard, displaying incredible feats of magic, of course everyone’s attention is on her.

…Everyone, except Morrible.

Morrible has realized that Plan A was a bust, but rather than panicking, she’s already worked over Plans B through Z in her head and has realized that Glinda, not Elphaba, is actually the key figure here. Glinda is actually the best thing that could have happened to them.

Mind you, Morrible hates Glinda. She thinks Glinda is vapid and attention-seeking and completely without talent. It would be extremely easy for her to brand Glinda as an accomplice to Elphaba, have the guards drag her off, imprison her, never have to deal with her again, nice and neat.

Instead, while everyone else is focused on Elphaba, Morrible only has eyes for Glinda. She zeroes in on her, releases her, and comforts her, because she understands what no one else understands, which is that yes, that’s great that the Wizard now has an enemy to unify his people against, but they also need a symbol of hope, something that is the exact antithesis to Elphaba, something to keep everyone at extremes. 

The Wizard himself can’t really be a symbol of hope, because the key to his success is that he remains shrouded in mystery, and yes people think he’s wonderful, but there’s a level of uncertainty and intimidation to him. He is Oz the Great and Terrible, and everyone’s preeeeeetty sure he’s a good guy, but if you have someone like Elphaba out there - who Morrible knows from experience is very smart, very articulate, and has her own sort of magnetism - there’s a potential that she could turn at least enough people against the Wizard to make things very inconvenient.

So what they need, now that they have an enemy, is to have an equally magnetic figurehead representing the Wizard who embodies all these one-dimensional ideas of goodness, someone for the public to adore and fawn over so the association between Wizard and Goodness is crystal clear.

And by bringing Glinda along, Elphaba has unknowingly served that figurehead up on a platter.

Glinda is everything Elphaba isn’t, from personality, to appearance - Morrible has already set Elphaba up by calling her green skin an “outward manifestorium of her twisted nature,” which paves the way for Glinda, who is the perfect conventional beauty, to be an “outward manifestorium” of pure goodness. 

Morrible realizes they need these two lightning rods of Absolute Evil and Absolute Good in order to manipulate people - fear alone isn’t enough; the only way to effectively radicalize the populace is to make sure there is no gray area whatsoever, no room for question: you're either good, or you’re evil. And the Wizard alone isn’t a strong enough representation of “goodness” when by virtue of existing, he has to remain in the shadows. Glinda on the other hand? With her looks and her charm and her openness and her ability to expertly win over a crowd? Perfect for the role.

Now the tricky part for Morrible is taking into consideration that Glinda and Elphaba love each other. But we also know from earlier scenes that Morrible is a master at manipulating emotions. Right from the start when Elphaba is having trouble with her magic, Morrible casually brings up the “Animals should be seen and not heard” disturbance from class, spoon-feeding her just enough to get Elphaba upset, triggering her magic, after which Morrible makes sure to give her assurance and praise to keep Elphaba optimistic about her power.

She’s also aware that Glinda does have quite a bit of influence over Elphaba, because when Elphaba flees, Morrible immediately tasks her with winning her over, rather than simply relying on the guards or even going after Elphaba herself. She knows if anyone has a chance at roping Elphaba back in, it's Glinda.

Obviously, Glinda isn’t successful in getting her back, but while this puts a dent in Morrible’s plans to get control of Elphaba, it does give her an extra weak spot to exploit in Glinda.

So now, at the height of “Defying Gravity” when Elphaba has officially taken her stand against them, Morrible sees Glinda, and Glinda is at her most vulnerable, her most emotionally fragile. Not only is she heartbroken and in shock, she’s also just witnessed in real time exactly how easy it is to turn an entire nation against someone. She’s scared, she’s powerless. She’s just lost the love of her life her only friend, she has no one to turn to - Morrible has definitely picked up on the fact that even though Glinda has countless people who fawn over her, none of them can be considered a true friend except for Elphaba, which means Glinda is completely isolated. Glinda also has a very limited understanding of the bigger picture of what the Wizard is trying to accomplish, and because she’s never been a victim of the system the way Elphaba has, she is still desperately clinging to the idea that everything will be okay as long as she plays by the rules of the people in power.

She has been perfectly primed for Morrible to begin manipulating, not through violence or intimidation, but by offering her comfort when no one else would - when not even Glinda’s only friend would - when no one else is even paying attention to Glinda, because they have the very real and present threat of Elphaba quite literally hanging over them. In this moment, Morrible chooses Glinda, which Glinda has been striving for since the beginning. Elphaba has chosen her principles, the Wizard has chosen his enemy, but Morrible has chosen Glinda, and in this moment of being so alone and so afraid and so betrayed, that makes all the difference.

We also get kind of a parallel shot too - Elphaba really sealed her fate the second her hand closed around the broom. But here, Glinda seals her fate when she gives in and reciprocates Morrible’s hold on her.

THIS is the moment that sets us up for Part 2, with Elphaba and Glinda as our lightning rods for Absolute Evil and Absolute Good, but more to the point, it makes it clear that they’ve BOTH been used, they’ve BOTH played right into these respective roles Morrible and the Wizard need in order to be successful - even if it wasn’t how Morrible originally planned for things to go.

I just love it, because “Defying Gravity” is Elphaba’s song - it’s triumphant, and it’s heartbreaking, and it’s everything a defining moment should be for a character. But by injecting this little moment between Morrible and Glinda into the scene, we also get an underlying current of dread because we know we’re about to see the consequences of Elphaba’s defiance versus Glinda’s compliance and how both serve to benefit the Wizard/Morrible’s propaganda.

TL;DR - when I said "I want to talk about this scene between Morrible and Glinda for a sec" I clearly meant "I'm gonna write a whole essay. Like a nerd."

[marbofmoorock]

Since a couple of people agree, I'm going to make a short story of it.

After venturing for miles in this digital fairy tale land adventure, everyone makes it to the castle, but gets divided as most of the cast works together to fight the dragon guarding the prize Caine warned about, save for Zooble and Pomni, who are about to be surprised with the "prize" at the end of the adventure as they start the tower climb.

"Ugh, how much longer?" Grumbled Zooble, the most determined to finish due to constantly falling apart today from all the action.

"You know Zooble, if you want, I could go see what's ahead first if you want. Caine did sorta make this adventure because of me since I brought up fairy tales." Pomni offered nervously, trying to help Zooble calm down.

"No. I'm finishing this, so I can tell Caine how done i am." Zooble muttered angrily, grumbling about how she wants to rip Caine to shreds making Zooble go on this adventure.

Pomni decides to drop the topic and they continue to walk silently up this tower staircase, Caine said the prize was on the tallest room in the tallest tower.

They arrive at the up at a big door locked by a wooden bar, which they took off.

Inside, they're surprised to find Caine in a princess outfit, with lipstick on his teeth lips, as he chuckles in a faintly feminine way, playing the role of the princess/damsel in distress to impress Pomni.

"Congratulations, my Superstars~ You've come rescue me at last!" Says Caine celebrant of their reward.

Zooble stares for a moment, not sure what to think of this, walks back downstairs in silent disbelief, pretty shocked, yet mad this was the prize.

Pomni, watchinh her leave, then turned back to Caine, whom was secretly close to Pomni as the other circus members didn't know about their relationship.

"Sooo~ HOW DO I LOOOOK!?~" Said Caine as "she" poses while laying on the bed in the room for Pomni.

Pomni was not prepared to find Caine roleplaying as a princess, feeling kinda awkward, but sort of found Caine's commitment to the role of being a fairytale princess for the adventure rather...

endearing.

She recalled his in past conversations Caine had been insecure about his adventures and didn't know how to make them fun, until one day Pomni arrived and started to be like a cheerleader to Caine, as she went on to liked Caine a lot, despite all of his mistakes and bring trapped in the Circus. Caine had opened up to Pomni, asking for help, and Pomni embraced the goofy floating denture man by offering him love and support, something Pomni assumed he had very little of as the other cast members were all tired of Caine and his antics. Pomni aims to influence Caine to help alleviate her time at the circus, realizing a fairy tale adventure she had the idea of inspiring him, waa dedinitely so arduous, yet here was Caine was trying to impress her with this extravagant fairy tale adventure. It did remind her of bedtime stories.

Pomni walked over to the bed and sat next to Caine, holding Caine in her noodly Jester arms. Caine cuddled Pomni in her arms in return, feeling hopeful that Pomni loved his surprise at least.

"Did you...like my surprise...?" Said Caine softly, as his eyes gazed at Pomni as they hugged.

"Yes, but do you think our next adventures could be a little less crazy? I think the others would enjoy it a much as i did if there were no dragons or lava."

"Anything for you, Superstar. I thought the challenge would be great, but I suppose lighthearted adventures would be appreciated by the cast more, even if they complain." Caine clings to Pomni a little, to which Pomni hugged Caine tighter, happy to provide support to her secret friend.

"Thank you Caine, you're a real peach."

Caine melted at the thought, close to crying, then he let's all the waterworks out in a blast of tears and sobs as they hold each other, while Caine quickly snaps and sends everyone back to their rooms in the circus for rest, save for them, as Caine and Pomni spent their privacy in a cuddle here in the fairy tale dimension.

"So," said Pomni as she was still gazing at Caine as they held each other, "What's with the princess getup? Is that for me too?"

"Well..." Said Caine, unsure of how to explain his thoughts to Pomni, but tries, "I'm exploring a new side of myself, I didn't know how I'd feel about wearing a dress, but here I am wearing one and it feels kinda amazing."

"Well, I think you look good." Said Pomni sweetly, as her gaze towards Caine continues. Caine is completely memorized towards Pomni and blushes as Pomni offered him a small peck on his right tooth cheek, Caine feels very special. "T-Thank you Pomni, you're so kind to me. I've never had a friend other then bubble and the npcs i create, AND I appreciate all that you do to be a big help. C-Can we stay like this for awhile?"

Pomni nodded, ensuring Caine she trusted him and held him tightly. Caine holds Pomni in return, as they kiss and hang out for a bit alone.

The End.

"COME AND CLAIM YOUR PRIZE MY GALLANT GAMERS!"

[sugarplumkneecaps]

I have a cute idea for Shadow. Imagine he and reader have a baby girl and when he asks reader what they should name her, reader suggests Maria. 🥹

A/N: This is such a cute idea and I could totally see this happening! Hopefully I did this wholesome idea justice <3

Namesake

Pairing: Shadow x Reader (gender neutral) C/W: none Genre: Romantic, domestic fluff

A small jab within woke you from your nap, causing you to let out a small groan in pain. You were in the uncomfortable stage of pregnancy at this point, where the baby would stretch out within your abdomen in ways you truly could not understand. Shadow was alerted to your state, blinking into existence next to you. Although he had done this time and time again, his sudden presence startled you.

“Oh, jeez Shadow!” You placed your hand on your chest in an effort to calm your racing heart. The involuntary jump earning you another kick from within.

“What’s wrong?!” Shadow knelt down next to you, his careful hand making contact with your stomach. A look of panicked concern consumed his features.

You placed your hand on his, giving it a light squeeze. “The baby is fine, Shadow. They really enjoy having their foot in my ribs-“ your voice dripping with irritation, “but they’re fine.”

His scarlet eyes met yours, your touch and words bringing him a great deal of comfort.

He had been incredibly diligent (and anal, if you’re being honest) throughout your pregnancy. The amount of research he did in his spare time led him to a forming a strict diet and activity regiment for you to keep you and the baby safe. The first trimester was brutal, as the fear of possibly losing the child drove most of his extreme requests. Getting into the second trimester meant that the initial fear gave way to new ones, but still meant that your restrictions weren’t nearly as... restrictive. You were thankful you could at least broaden your meal item choices at this point.

Shadow’s hand lingered between your stomach and your hand for a long moment before he moved to help you onto your feet. “Your ultrasound is today, love. We should get ready.”

“Would you like to finally find out what the gender is?” Your voice resembling that of a plea. Another thing Shadow was surprisingly picky about was not finding out the gender too soon. When you made mention in the past that knowing the gender might help you choose what to buy for the baby, he simply stated that gender neutral items were more sensible anyway.

He pondered your request again for a long time, “I have your clothes set out on the bed. We don’t want to be late.”

Guess that’s a resounding “no” then. You thought to yourself, letting out an exasperated huff.

Once you were dressed, you both were out the door and on your way to the clinic.

This particular clinic was also specially selected by your partner, which you had little to complain about. The quality of the care you had received there had been incredible, for lack of a better word. Your midwife had chatted with you about each and every concern either you or Shadow had with such care and compassion, ensuring you both felt at ease through each stage of the pregnancy. They were the one who greeted you as you entered the building, a warm smile on their lips.

“Today’s a big day,” they cooed. “You must be excited.”

“Absolutely!” You smiled back, moving your hand to hold Shadow’s.

He squeezed your hand lightly, looking over at you lovingly before you both followed the midwife to the room.

You got comfortable on the bed in the center of the room as Shadow took the padded bench to your side. The lights were dim, with a projector light casting a dark image that would soon be images of your baby on the wall in front of you. This was nothing new for you, but each time you had entered this room for an ultrasound it always felt somewhat surreal.

You were carrying a baby. Your baby. His baby.

The technician joined you shortly after you both were comfortable, greeting you, “Hi again, it’s so nice to see you both! I hope things have been well?”

“Yes, Shadow’s been going through a great deal of trouble to ensure they have been,” you laughed. Shadow let out a small huff under his breath as you and the tech shared a chuckle together.

“Are we wanting to find out the gender today?” they inquired, looking to you.

You bit your lip lightly before opening your mouth to answer.

“Yes.”

To your surprise, it was Shadow who answered. You whipped your head around to look at him, your voice catching. A whisper was all you could manage, “really?”

He nodded, caressing your cheek as he ran a thumb over the blush forming.

The technician was quick to get to work, applying warmed gel to your abdomen before placing the wand against your skin.

A black and white image appeared on the projection in front of you, little features of your baby coming into view. The tech went over each; the hands, the face, the feet. Each bringing you and Shadow a sense of shared joy and relief to see your baby doing so well. The tech paused, inquiring once again, “are we ready to see what gender baby is?”

Shadow held your hand tight, “we’re happy with whatever, as long as they are healthy.”

His anxiety present in his words, you rubbed your thumb over his in an effort to soothe him. “We’re ready.”

The wand moved, as did the image in front of you. At this point you only hoped that the baby would cooperate long enough to discern the sex. The room stood still as the image halted, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Now you see this area here? You’re having a girl.”

A sudden rush of emotions overtook you and Shadow as the information registered. You looked over to see his eyes get wide before he pulled you into a tight hug.

“We’re going to have a girl,” he repeated, as if in a trance.

-----

You held the roll of ultrasound images in your hand for what felt like an eternity. Things had been quiet, the only sound coming from Shadow prepping dinner in the kitchen.

A baby girl.

Shadow had refused to discuss baby names up to this point, leaving the realm of possibilities open for any number of choices. You played around with a few, saying them under your breath to see which one might stick.

“Dinner is ready,” Shadow called as he plated the food.

You made your way to the table, roll of pictures still in hand. As you sat down, you placed the images to the side of your plate, the ultrasound featuring the words “it’s a girl!” accompanying an identifying circle on top.

Shadow paused to look at it as he brought you your drink, reaching over to plant a kiss on your forehead before sitting across from you.

“Have you thought of a name?”

He took a slow bite and chewed for a moment. “Not yet. Have you?”

You gnawed at your bottom lip (earning you a lighthearted scolding from Shadow) before scooping up a bite of food yourself. The reality was that, yes, you had in fact thought of a name. You had thought of a hundred names. But only one felt right to you. All you were hoping was that he would feel the same.

The long pause between you revealed your answer in part, eliciting a warm smile from your partner. “Well, don’t keep me waiting. What is it?”

Butterflies fluttered through your stomach up to your heart, causing your cheeks to burn as the name repeated over and over in your head. You swallowed hard, “Maria.”

Shadow stopped his movements immediately, his warm smile mixing with an expression you could not decipher. His utensil fell from his hand as he rose from his seat, making his way over to you slowly. You panicked, hoping that you did not offend him.

He grabbed your shoulders and peered into your eyes. You realized the his were welling up with silent tears before he fell to his knees before you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, brushing your fingers through his quills. “Only if-“ you stuttered, his sudden vulnerability catching you off guard. “Only if that’s okay with you-“

He pulled back to look at you, tears falling freely down his cheeks. “It’s perfect.”

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟕]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, mentions of blood and injury

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. thank you all for waiting during my hiatus <3 turnfire is back, probably a bit sporadic for updates! still, i hope you'll join me in seeing the story through until the end! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗡𝗦

In the week that you’re apart, Kinich dreams of you five times.

It’s a welcome respite from the constant nightmares he’d been experiencing. They’d grown more frequent since your injury, lying in wait in the dead of night. He’d found himself trapped by them, thrown to a hellish dreamscape that saw you meeting your end over and over again. It always ended with the sight of your body, bloody and broken.

And he was always too weak to save you.

But since the contract, Kinich finds new power thrumming through his veins. He’d thought he was strong before, but this is different. He wonders if this is how it must feel to hold a Vision, to be one of the Archon’s chosen. Being afforded a power like that means protection and stability, however steep the price may be. And sure, his body is a high price.

But when he remembers your screams of pain and the tears running rivers down your cheeks, he really can’t bring himself to regret this deal at all.

Still, Ajaw’s power brings its own share of consequences, like actually dealing with Ajaw. Truthfully, he’s reluctant to let the Dragonlord anywhere near you—he tends to run his mouth, and he doesn’t want him saying anything unnecessary in your presence. 

He isn’t a great companion, not like you—he gets on Kinich’s nerves, both intentionally and unintentionally. But there is something to be gained from a power as great as his, a power that even Kinich is forced to recognize.

The first dream is nothing special. There’s no rhyme or reason to it; he dreams of running through the meadow with you, flower petals bursting and floating through the air. His next dream is similar, though this time it’s in the forest, river rushing alongside you. He dreams of the late nights you spend talking, of the dinners you’ve shared over candlelight, of your whispers under the stars. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s you. 

It’s always, always you.

So, if sacrifice must be had, let it be his. 

Ajaw seems to realize it too, the weight of the bond they have forged. Ecstatic as he is to take Kinich’s body as his own, he knows that most people wouldn’t make such a deal so easily. He tries to question it a few times, wondering who this “special mortal” could be, wondering why Kinich would need his “awesome powers” to protect them. Kinich doesn’t care to answer—no one needs to know how he feels about you except you.

And, by the time he makes it back to your shared home, he’ll make sure that you know too.

He has the man in the ruins to thank for that oath. After he’d escaped the darkness, he’d made a small grave for the others who had embarked on that journey with him. He hadn’t had much onhand, but he tried—a small pile of stones, stacked precariously until they were about his height. Though he hadn’t known the other men well, he feels a sort of duty to their memory. After all, he had fought by their side, and no one deserves to die alone.

And now, he has the means to protect you, and to make sure that you never have to cry again.

On the seventh day, Kinich raises his head to the sky, one hand shielding his eyes as he gauges the position of the sun. If he starts the journey now, he could be by your side again by nightfall. Something flutters in his chest at the thought of seeing you, and part of him feels like he really can’t wait any longer.

“Ajaw,” he calls. The dragon is resting nearby, picking berries off of plants and scarfing them down. “We’re going home.”

He walks, and doesn’t wait to see if the dragon is following him. He’ll be able to tell based on the complaints that Ajaw is constantly spewing—he’d learned quickly how to phase them out of his mind.

“Your house?” Ajaw moans, still smeared with the juice of a Quenapa Berry. “What is it, a pathetic cave on the side of the mountain? Or maybe a cardboard box on the side of the road?”

Kinich rolls his eyes. “It’s a real house, and you’ll be lucky if I even let you inside. Now pick up the pace.”

The wind is good today, he notes, ideal for grappling. Ajaw scoffs, reluctantly following alongside his partner. 

“What are you in such a rush for anyway? Mortals get excited over the smallest things.”

Your smiling face flashes in Kinich’s mind. He sighs.

“Just feeling a bit homesick.”

/

“I’m home.”

Kinich’s voice floats languidly through your quiet house, comforting familiarity seeping into his bones. Something delicious is cooking—the smell of rich meat and spices wafts through the air.

On the table, there’s a loaf of fresh bread, a single slice spread with your favorite jam. Fresh fruit overflows from the basket on the counter, shiny skin promising ripeness. One of his old shirts is draped over the arm of the couch, sewing needle and thread strewn across the fabric. You’d kept busy while he was gone, evidently.

Somehow, simple as it is, the sight of your home at peace is almost overwhelming. After days spent in the dark humidity of the ruins, he suddenly feels like he can finally relax, if only for a moment. He lets the bag drop from his shoulder, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

There’s no response, but Kinich can see your shoes by the door and the faint sound of splashing water—most likely, you’re in the bath. Still, Ajaw fixes him with a look of disbelief. 

“Did you seriously make up an entire girl just to convince me you don’t live alone in the mountains? That’s pathetic, even for you.”

Kinich fights the urge to stomp the small dragon into the ground, opting to start organizing his things instead. Kneeling down, he unzips his bag, starting to pull out various trinkets and pouches of Mora.

“She is real, she’s just in the bath. Try not to be so annoying when she comes out, or I’ll punch you out.”

Ajaw turns red in irritation. “Just try it, servant! And you’ll see just what it means to be a Dragonlord—”

“Kinich? Is that you?”

He perks up immediately at the chime of your voice, excitement palpable in your words. There’s a scuffle behind the door—you’re rushing to change and greet him, he thinks, face warm. Even Ajaw seems to notice his change in demeanor, based on his mocking chuckle.

“Oh, how sweet. Your little girlfriend has been waiting for you.”

Kinich doesn’t even have time to retort, because the bathroom door flies open and you come bursting forth, wide grin splitting across your face. You clear the room in only a few steps—Kinich’s eyes widen at the sheer speed—and then you’re collapsing into his arms with all the force of a raging bull. 

He catches you anyway, heart nearly pounding out of his chest at the proximity, at the still-damp heat of your skin, at the way your arms wrap around him so tightly.

Spring blooms around him as he holds you closer.

“I missed you,” you admit quietly. Your breath is warm against his neck, but the feeling is pleasant all the same.

“I missed you too.”

After a moment, he holds you at arms-length, gauging the state of you. Your bandages are a clean, pristine white, and there’s less of them than when he left—your wound must have healed considerably.

Noticing his gaze, you smile, stretching your arms wide.

“I’m a lot better now,” you assure him. “We can start going on jobs together again soon!”

It’s a true relief to see you healthy and happy again. Though the guilt will likely never leave him, he wants to burden you as little as possible. 

“That’s good,” he replies, thumbing over your cheek. His breath hitches when you lean happily into his touch. “I’ll look for some good commissions next time I go to the outpost.”

Silently, he notes that the two of you will have to take some simpler ones first, at least while you’re still healing completely. And maybe for the time being, while he gets used to Ajaw’s power—he can’t risk hurting you again.

Someone clears their throat obnoxiously, and Kinich finally remembers that he hadn’t returned home alone.

Brows furrowed, you peek over Kinich’s shoulder to see the small, pixelated dragon floating there. He has an impatient expression on his face, like he can’t stand the lack of attention. 

“Kin,” you whisper, “I think something followed you home.”

“I am not something,” Ajaw roars, “I am the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw, the bearer of power that strikes fear into nations and gods, the pinnacle of strength and—”

“I found him in a cave,” Kinich interrupts dryly. “And now he won’t stop talking.”

Despite the bold introduction, you don’t seem intimidated by Ajaw at all—you’re peering over him curiously, poking at his tail and flicking at his feet. He growls in reply, already full of protest.

“It’s…floating,” you observe, in awe.

“It? You dare refer to the Almighty Dragonlord as an it? I oughta burn you to ash right here!”

Kinich shoves Ajaw aside, a sour expression on his face. Admittedly, he’s irritated at your reunion being interrupted.

“Try anything against her and see what happens.”

Ajaw grumbles some curses, but neither of you pay him any mind—you’re too overjoyed that Kinich is home, and Kinich is just happy to be in your presence.

“I made some stew for dinner,” you announce, practically skipping over to the stove. There’s a pot already boiling there—that must’ve been what he smelled earlier. “Your favorite. Ajaw—sorry, Almighty Dragonlord can eat too if he wants.”

When you bring it over to the table, beckoning him over, Ajaw huffs at his side. 

“If she’s inviting me to dine, maybe she isn’t so bad after all,” he comments haughtily, and Kinich resists the urge to roll his eyes. Leave it to Ajaw to change his opinion of you on a dime. Instead of arguing with the impossible dragon, he moves to clean up the rest of his things.

Ajaw pounces on the bread right away, tearing it to crumbs. It doesn’t seem to bother you, based on the way you calmly hum as you stir the stew. Really, it doesn’t seem like anything could ruin your mood at this point, and that thought makes Kinich smile in turn.

“If you’re planning on keeping him like a pet,” you say as you place three bowls of stew on the table, eyes flicking between him and Ajaw, “something tells me he won’t be able to learn many tricks.”

Luckily for you both, Ajaw is too busy scarfing down his food to hear. Kinich shakes his head, a half-smile on his lips.

“Not likely. We made a contract, actually.”

Your head tilts in curiosity as you take your seat. “Really? What kind?”

It’s not uncommon for Kinich to make deals—it’s what he’s good at, and he’s even better at following through. So it comes as no surprise to you that it would be the nature of his relationship with Ajaw. Still, you don’t expect him to continue:

“My body, for his power.”

A sharp gasp slips between your lips. 

When he turns to face you, your smile falters at the edges, a withering bloom.

“You…what?”

“It was a fair trade,” he explains calmly, checking his grappling hook. There’s a chip in the metal, he notes grimly, evidence of its overuse. “In exchange for my body after death, I get to—”

The clattering sound of your chair tipping to the floor has Kinich flinching, one hand outstretched instinctually toward you. When he looks up, your expression is like shattered glass—you’re clutching your stomach like someone’s just punched you.

“In exchange? For you?” Your words thin at the end, dying halfway up your throat. The sound makes Kinich’s heart twist. “Are you joking?”

It’s as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. Though he’d expected your surprise, he hadn’t expected the despair, the anger that burns in your irises.

“I promise you, it was fair,” Kinich reiterates. “As annoying as he is, Ajaw does have a lot of useful power.”

“But he’s taking your body,” you say. Each word comes out almost robotically. “That’s supposed to be fair?”

Hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. You shrink away, directly onto your fallen chair—you stumble and fall, a pained expression painting your features. Even as quick as he is to rush to your side, Kinich can’t help but curse himself internally.

Somehow, no matter what he does, he hurts you every time.

You recover quickly, climbing to your feet, and Ajaw merely watches, uncharacteristically silent. Kinich doesn’t really care what he thinks anyway—he’s far more focused on the glassy tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

“It’s only once I die,” he assures you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You flinch at the feeling, eyes wide. “For as long as I’m alive, I’ll be stronger.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need that thing’s power, Kin. Give it back, we’ll be fine.”

From his place at the table, Ajaw sneers. 

“How ungrateful! You have no idea how many humans would scramble and die for the chance to use a sliver of my—”

“Ajaw,” Kinich breathes, a warning, stare never leaving yours. “Get out.”

Ajaw huffs. “Do you even hear her? She’s being totally unreasonable—”

“Ajaw.” Kinich grits his teeth until it’s practically audible, tone laced with frost. “Get. Out.”

The tension is so razor-sharp that even the Almighty Dragonlord slinks out the door, though he grumbles as he goes. You don’t seem to care either way, instead scrubbing at the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

Silence falls, a blanket of ice over the warmth of your home.

He hates it. He hates the way it reminds him of his parents, of the countless fights that occurred here, and he hates the broken sheen in your eyes when you look at him. It’s a far cry from your previous brightness.

“Please, Kin,” you plead, a near-whisper, “please, please give his power back to him.”

You grasp at his arms, tracing the tattoos etched into the skin there, like you’re trying to remind yourself that he’s still here. Small cuts litter his skin, evidence of the journey he’d endured before returning to you, and your frown deepens.

“I can’t,” he replies. “The contract is done.”

His words sink deep into your mind, a stone in water, the weight of what he’s done slowly dawning on you. He can see it in your eyes—the fear that takes root. The fear that one day, he’ll no longer be by your side.

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, moving toward the couch. Kinich follows.

“You have to understand,” he starts, almost begging, even as you walk away, “I only wanted to be stronger for you. I don’t want you to get hurt again—”

When you whirl on him, your eyes are burning.

“So it’s because of me? Because I got hurt?”

And really, it was, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t because of you, or any sort of perceived weakness of yours. If anything, Kinich thinks, it was his own that brought him this far—his own selfish desires for you.

“It’s not like that,” he murmurs, reaching for you. His heart pangs when you flinch away from his touch—you’ve never done that before in his life. “I’m stronger now. I can protect you now—”

“I never wanted you to protect me, Kinich!”

The pure volume of your voice seems to shake the walls of the house, and Kinich feels like it’s all crumbling down around him. He’s never seen you like this—nearly quivering with anger and disappointment, tears running endlessly down your cheeks. 

You can’t seem to decide where to look, but your gaze lands on his all the same. He almost wishes it didn’t—he can’t take the sorrow in your eyes.

“I’ve been learning on my own. I want to fight with you. I don’t want you to protect me, or hide me away, or sacrifice anything more for me. I just wanted to be with you!”

“We can still be together, it’s just—”

You gesture wildly outside, to where Ajaw is presumably waiting.

“Just that your life is tied to this…this thing now, and now not even your own body belongs to you. Do you realize how insane that is, Kin?”

And he wants to tell you that it’s not about Ajaw at all, it’s about you. It’s the fact that he’s always belonged to you, he wants to belong to you, and being strong is the only way he knows how to do that. He thinks of his mother, of the price of her smile—he would pay any price to see yours.

He wants to tell you that he’d thought of you every day he was away, perhaps every moment. He wants to tell you what he promised himself back in the ruins.

But he can’t seem to move an inch. He should say something, he knows. Comfort you in some way. All he can do is watch as you collapse onto the couch, old and fraying, stare fixed blankly to the wall.

And when he remembers the sight of your blood seeping through your shirt, he still can’t bring himself to regret this.

You hold your face in your hands. “We…we were happy, Kinich. Wasn’t that enough?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You don’t answer.

And, as always, Kinich drowns in the realization that he’d hurt you again. His father’s voice echoes in his mind.

It’s your fucking fault. This is all your fault.

The deal had been fair, at least to him, and he was rarely wrong in these things. He’d gained a power to protect you. With this newfound strength, you’d have no reason to worry again. 

So why did it feel like everything was falling apart?

He’s never been good at these things—at feelings, at vocalizing them—but all he’s ever wanted was to be what you needed. But someone like him isn’t worthy of your light.

He really, really wants to be.

Kinich slinks to your side, careful as he kneels before you. Your head is still hung, tears dripping into your lap. He tries not to let the sorrow on your face deter him, at least for now—you deserve to hear what he’s been thinking all along.

Even if it’s too little, too late, he has to tell you.

His fingertips brush against your knee first, apologetic. For now, you don’t push him away. He finds comfort in that, somehow. Even when everything the two of you have built until now lies on the precipice, the mere sensation of your warmth is enough to calm him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first,” he whispers, letting his hand drift toward yours.

You don’t reply, which makes Kinich think that you’re simply waiting to hear what he has to say. A deep breath fills his lungs, slow, the buildup of everything he’s longed to communicate all these years. 

Outside, the sun is falling to rest, leaving shards of fading golden light in its wake. Kinich watches its luminescence slip over your face, slow and winding. 

“I thought you were going to die back then. And it would’ve been all my fault.”

Even suggesting the possibility has something in his chest writhing and twisting, a chill settling in his bones. He’s lost too much until now, and he’s always told himself he could move past it. And yet, he doesn’t think he could ever stomach losing you.

“I couldn’t let that happen again,” he finishes quietly.

He can practically hear the gears turning in your head as you absorb his words. But your hand doesn’t leave his, and he holds steadfast to that feeling.

A sigh escapes your lips. 

“And I can’t let Ajaw have you, even after death. I told you I would always be by your side, Kin, and I wish you would trust me to do that on my own.”

His eyes widen, and he’s about to reply when—

A knock echoes at your front door.

You sniffle once, then twice, gathering yourself. Kinich moves to stop you—he’s sure it’s just Ajaw getting impatient during his timeout.

“It’s not Ajaw,” you assert, practically reading his mind. “It’s the couriers.”

The couriers? They don’t come here often—that fact hasn’t changed since his parents lived in his house. A seed of unease plants itself in his stomach. 

“They’ve been looking for you,” you sigh. Before you can take another step, his fingers wrap tight around your wrist, rooting you in place.

“Why? What do they want with me?”

The look in your eyes is far away, falling upon the lukewarm stew on the table. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, all of it. Instead, your lip quivers as you admit:

“The Wayob called for you. You’ve inherited an Ancient Name.”

And, despite all his efforts, Kinich feels the distance between you growing wider and wider.

[tsukuhoe]

17. make me juno cw: smut, p in v sex

utahime’s voice rang out, sharp and clear. “and… cut! that’s a wrap for today, everyone. great work!” 

the film crew burst into scattered applause, and you stepped off the set, running your hand through your slightly dishevelled hair. 

“you did amazing, sweets,” gojo said as he passed. he offered you a tired but genuine smile. “hope i didn’t spook you when i picked you up earlier,” 

“oh heavens no, gojo! i didn’t mind it in the slightest! like seriously, throwing me over your shoulders? you’re really strong.” 

“yeah, ‘m the strongest!” you giggled in response. “so, sweets, would you like to get dinner together tonight? haven’t hung out with you since we watched scream together— kinda miss you.” he gave you a small pout and tucked a strand of your dishevelled hair behind your ear. 

“i’d love to gojo, but! i have dinner plans tonight… maybe next time?” dinner plans. he stiffened. who rejects the satoru gojo for dinner plans? no, the bigger question was who exactly do you have plans with?  “yeah..! that’s fine with me, sweets.” he smiled weakly then walked off. 

as you exited the lobby, your eyes scanned the small crowd milling around the entrance. then you saw him— nanami, waiting for you, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. you smiled, quickening her pace. “kento, hi! sorry, did you wait long?” 

nanami looked over and shot you a soft smile. “no, not at all. i just finished up my photoshoot.” 

you two started walking together to his car— a volvo s90. the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. he opened the passenger door for you as you slid into the seat, the soft leather cool against your skin. you rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. “a gentleman, huh?” he chuckled at your comment. 

nanami closed the door with care and rounded the car to the driver’s side. moments later, he was in the seat beside you, adjusting the music to a mellow playlist as he started the car. the drive was smooth, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold as they passed. conversation flowed effortlessly between you two—small talk, laughter. 

twenty minutes later, he turned down a quiet road that led to a fancy townhouse neighbourhood. as he stepped out, you reached for the door handle, but before you could open it, he was there, pulling it open for you.

“still playing the gentleman, i see,” you said, stepping out.

“of course,” the blonde replied, offering his hand. you took it, feeling a pleasant flutter in your chest as your fingers brushed. 

“this is incredible, kento,” you said, twirling a forkful of spaghetti. he smiled, twirling his own fork. “i could send you the recipe if you’d like.” 

as you two ate, the conversation flowed as easily as the wine in your glasses. They talked about work, your mutual friends (shoko, utahime, gojo), and travel dreams. every so often, laughter would fill the room, blending with the crackle of the candle. 

“so, what did you want to discuss? you sounded pretty serious over text…” you asked, finishing up your plate of spaghetti. 

“well,” he said slowly, ​​running a hand through his hair, his laugh awkward. “it’s just— something’s been on my mind for a while. and i figured, you know, it’s something you should be aware of…” 

you tilted your head. “okay… now you’re scaring me. spit it out.”

he took a deep breath, his gaze meeting yours. “we attended high school together. at tokyo jujutsu high.” 

“oh! really? no wonder why your name sounded so familiar… you were friends with haibara, right? i remember seeing you a few times in the halls waiting for him after math?” 

he nodded. “yes. um… do you remember that party senior year? at mei mei’s place?” 

you blinked, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. “uh… vaguely? why?”

nanami hesitated again, then decided to just rip off the band-aid. “we hooked up that night.” 

the words hung in the air like an unexpected gust of wind, making you blink again, harder this time.

“what?” you said, leaning back as if to process his statement better.

“we… had a one-night stand,” he said, his voice softer now. “you’d had a few drinks, i’d had a few drinks, and… yeah. it happened.” 

you stared at him, her mind racing. “no way… that was you?!”

“yes, it was,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “you didn’t bring it up the next day. i figured you didn’t want to talk about it so i just… didn’t say anything.”

“kento!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing. “are you serious right now?”

“completely,” he said, his expression equal parts apologetic and nervous. “i’m not telling you this to make it weird or anything. i realized that when we met, you didn’t seem to know who i was. it felt wrong if you weren’t aware of who you had sex with…”  

you let out a long breath, your mind replaying snippets of that party. the memory was blurry, but there were flashes— nanami laughing with you in the kitchen, you two of them sitting too close in mei mei’s guest bedroom, a kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen. 

“oh my god—” you finally said, covering your face with your hands. for a moment, you two sat in silence, the weight of the revelation settling in you. then, to his surprise, you started giggling. “kento, do you know how desperate i’ve been to find you?”

“pardon?” he asked, as confusion settled in him. 

you shook your head, still laughing. “i just… i can’t believe that i lost my v-card to the kento nanami! i’ve been thinking about that party ever since it happened!”

nanami smiled, relieved that she wasn’t angry, however concern showing on his face.  “you… you lost your virginity to me? i am so terribly sorry… is there something i could do to make it up to you?” 

“don’t be. if anything, it honestly best fuck of my life.” 

“fair enough.” he laughed, the tension finally breaking. 

​​you took another sip of wine, your eyes glinting with mischief. “but, if you really would like to make it up to me, i don’t mind recreating what we did that night.”

as you straddled nanami’s lap on the couch, the soft cushions enveloped them, making it feel like they were in their little world. his eyes locked onto yours, the desire in them making your heart skip a beat.

you settled into his lap, your legs wrapping around his hips as you began to move. his hands rose, gripping your hips as he guided you, his fingers digging into your skin. 

the couch creaked softly as you two moved, the sound mingling with your ragged breathing. you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "i want you."

"fuck, you feel incredible, darling," he groaned, his voice strained. his hands tightened on your hips as he pulled you down harder. you began to ride him faster, your hips moving in a circular motion as you chased the pleasure. your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. "ah—! harder, please. ‘fuh me like you did back then."

nanami began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you matched his pace. the couch creaked with the frantic movements, the sound only adding to the erotic atmosphere. plap plap plap! 

"you feel so fucking good, love," nanami grunted, his eyes locked with yours. "'m not going to last long."

"i–i don't want you to," you panted, your face flushed with arousal. “wanna feel you c–cum inside— ah!— j’us like before."

his thrusts became more urgent— plap plap plap! his body on the brink of release. your cunt clenched around him, milking his cock as you neared your climax. your moans filled the room, a symphony of pleasure. 

"shit– ‘m gonna fill you up, yeah?" nanami panted out, his body tensing as he emptied himself deep within you.

“ahh— you so so s’gooddd, kento!” you cried out, her nails scratching his back as you rode the waves of pleasure, your cunt pulsating around his pulsing thick cock. 

as your hearts slowed and your breathing returned to normal, you two remained entangled on the couch, your bodies glistening with sweat. nanami kissed your forehead, his hand stroking your hair.

"that was..." you began, searching for words. "just like i remembered…” 

“oh, darling, we’re just getting started.” he chuckled, his voice soft, picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom. 

album bonus tracks: — that was my first time writing smut, I AM SO SORRY IF IT WAS ASS — i love kento nanami — next chapter out next week, i won't be updating during the weekdays for a bit ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT  ⋮

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[wendichester]

Hello! Could I perhaps request the winchester of your choice (whoever you feel fits this situation best) x reader with an established relationship, where maybe it's an anniversary so he wants to make something special for you, like a special dinner in the bunker, the bedroom filled with candles and a bouquet of flowers, that sort of thing, because for once there isn't a case

EXCEPT: you haven't left the bunker all day, there's no reason to! You three finished a case the day before so you took this as a resting day since there wasn't any other case found, so! The brothers have to find a way to get one to keep you out till the evening, while the other rushes to get everything set up

I hope this isn't too detailed/unclear?? Tysm anyway if you write this!! I love your blog a lot <3

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ anniversary surprise,

summary. dean wants to do something special for your anniversary

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 963

notes. though i would also see sam doing something like this, it just screamed like dean behaviour. he's the softess little thing to me ‹𝟹

The bunker is unusually quiet for once—a rare luxury in the hunting life. After wrapping up a tough case yesterday, you've taken full advantage of the downtime. Still in your pyjamas, you've spent the day curled up on the couch with a book, refusing to even glance at your laptop.

Sam, however, hasn't been able to sit still. He keeps pacing the bunker, glancing at his phone like he's expecting bad news. It's distracting enough that you close your book and call him out.

"You trynna dig a hole in the ground or something, Sam? What's wrong?"

He freezes mid-step, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. "What? Nothing! I'm fine."

You squint at him, unconvinced. “Sam, if you’re trying to avoid telling me about a case, just spit it out. I’m not leaving this bunker today unless something’s on fire.”

He stammers for a moment, clearly scrambling for an excuse. Then, his eyes light up like he's just had an idea. Oh, boy. "Uh, there's this event in town. A... a book signing. By an author I like. I thought it might be interesting, but I, uh, don't wanna go alone."

The confession catches you off guard. "A book signing?"

"Yeah," he says quickly, nodding like it's the most logical thing in the world.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. Sam Winchester, shy about attending a book event? It doesn't quite add up, but you decide to let it slide.

You glance toward Dean, who's pretending to be engulfed in his phone and beer, but is clearly eavesdropping. He doesn't even look up, clearly uninterested.

"Alright, Sam," you say with a sigh. "I'll go with you."

Relief washes over his face, making the situation even more weird. "Great! Thanks."

The book signing ends up being more enjoyable than you expected. Sam is in his element, geeking out over the author’s latest release and chatting animatedly with other fans. You find yourself wandering through the bookstore, skimming through titles and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

Afterward, you grab coffee at a nearby café, the conversation flowing easily as you and Sam talk about everything and nothing. It’s a rare, peaceful moment—one you don’t take for granted.

By the time you return to the bunker, the sun has long since set, and the air carries a cool, crisp chill. Sam walks ahead, fishing in his pocket for the keys.

“Shoot,” he says suddenly, patting his jacket. “I think I left something in the Impala.”

You shrug, already halfway to the door. “Alright. I’ll meet you inside.”

The moment you step through the door, you stop in your tracks.

Rose petals are scattered on the floor, forming a delicate path that leads toward the kitchen. Soft, flickering candlelight spills into the hallway, and the faint scent of your favorite meal wafts through the air.

“Dean?” you call out, your voice trembling slightly.

“Over here,” he replies, his voice warm and inviting.

You follow the trail, your heart pounding in your chest. When you step into the kitchen, you’re met with a sight that takes your breath away.

The table is covered with a white cloth, set with actual plates and silverware instead of the usual mismatched collection. Candles are arranged in the center, their golden light casting a romantic glow over the room. Your favourite store-bought meal sits neatly plated, steam rising in the air.

Dean is leaning casually against the counter, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. He’s wearing a button-up shirt instead of his usual flannel, the effort not lost on you.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he says softly.

Your stomach drops as guilt washes over you. You completely forgot.

“Dean,” you whisper, your eyes welling up. “I… I didn’t—”

“Hey,” he interrupts, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. He cups your face gently in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been busy. This is my gift to you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you stare up at him, his green eyes filled with nothing but love and understanding. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one to have you.”

You bite your lip, emotion threatening to overwhelm you, but Dean tugs you toward the table before it can. “Come on. Dinner’s getting cold.”

The meal is perfect, just like everything Dean does when he puts his mind to it. Between bites, you and Dean fall into easy conversation, laughter punctuating the air as you recount memories from the past year. The stress of the world melts away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

After dinner, Dean takes your hand and leads you down the hallway. When he opens the door to your bedroom, your jaw drops.

The room is softly lit with more candles, their gentle glow highlighting a small table set up in the corner. A rich chocolate cake sits in the center, accompanied by a bottle of champagne and two glasses. The bed looks impossibly inviting, piled high with plush pillows and fresh sheets.

“You really outdid yourself,” you murmur, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugs, but the pleased grin on his face betrays his pride. “Only the best for my girl.”

Your heart swells as you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” he says, leaning down to kiss you.

The rest of the night is spent wrapped in Dean’s love and care, the perfect celebration of the life you’ve built together. For once, the world outside doesn’t matter—all that does is the warmth of his arms and the steady beat of his heart.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas

[buzzinrusso]

New years meeting

I'm sorry if I didn't do this prompt justice !! It's based off this request a very nice anon sent !

---

New Year's Eve had arrived, and the city was buzzing with excitement. The streets were filled with people heading to parties, clubs, and bars to ring in the new year. You, however, weren’t looking for wild celebrations. After a hectic year, you just wanted a quiet evening to unwind, so you decided to stop by a low-key bar for a drink. The vibe was just what you needed—chilled, yet festive enough to enjoy the night

But as you sat at the bar nursing your drink, an overly confident guy had started making things uncomfortable. He slid into the seat next to you, a forced grin on his face as he eyed you up.

“Hey, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone on New Year’s Eve?” he said, his voice too loud for the quiet setting.

You smiled politely, hoping he’d take the hint. “Just having a drink. I’m good, thanks,” you said, keeping your gaze on your glass.

But the guy didn’t back off. He leaned in closer, his breath smelling faintly of whiskey. “C’mon, I bet you could use some company tonight. We could have a good time together.”

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to give him a pointed look. “I’m really not interested,” you said, your voice firmer this time.

He ignored you, moving even closer, reaching out a hand to touch your arm. “Come on, don’t be shy,” he said, his hand inching toward yours.

At that moment, you felt a sharp presence beside you—someone stepping in. You turned to see a woman with dark hair, wearing a sleek leather jacket, standing tall with a confident air. It was Alexia.

“Hey,” Alexia said, her tone calm but firm. “She said she’s not interested, so you’re going to have to piss off.”

The guy blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden interruption. “What?” he mumbled, squinting at Alexia as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I said piss off,” Alexia repeated, her voice unwavering. She stepped closer to him, eyes locking onto his with such intensity that it made the guy visibly stumble back. "She told you she’s not interested. Take the hint and move along."

The guy opened his mouth, but no words came out. He glanced at Alexia and then at you, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to win this one. Finally, he muttered something incoherent and slunk away, disappearing into the crowd.

You blinked, surprised at how easily Alexia had handled the situation.

"Thanks," you said, still a little shaken but relieved. "I didn’t know how else to get him to leave me alone."

“No problem,” Alexia said with a reassuring smile. She glanced at you, her eyes softening. “Some people just don’t get the message. Glad I could help.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension start to leave your body. “That was exactly what I needed. I was about to lose my patience.”

Alexia gave you a light laugh. “I’ve had to do that more times than I can count. People don’t seem to understand what ‘no’ means sometimes.”

You smiled, finally feeling like you could relax. “I guess I owe you one. I didn’t think anyone would step in.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t owe me anything. But if you’re feeling generous, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a drink with you.”

You chuckled, feeling the ice break between you. “That sounds great. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Alexia,” she replied with a smirk. “And you?”

“y/n,” you answered, offering your hand.

She shook it firmly, her smile warm and genuine. There was something about the way she carried herself that made you feel comfortable, even in this crowded bar.

The two of you made your way to the bar to grab another round, and as you stood there, Alexia’s teammates from the other side of the room—Mapi, Irene, Patri, and Claudia—were watching, clearly noticing the dynamic between you two.

---

As Alexia ordered drinks, her teammates couldn’t help but exchange a few glances and muttered remarks. Mapi, ever the loud one, leaned over to Irene with a playful grin. “Look at Lex. First she saves the stranger, and now she’s all cozy with her.”

Irene raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping up on her face. “We all know ale isn’t exactly the talk-to-random-strangers type. She must be into her.”

Alexia had her back turned, not hearing the conversation, but you couldn’t help but notice the way her teammates were eyeing the two of you. Patri shot a knowing smirk at Claudia, who was trying to suppress her own grin.

“You think ale is going to kiss her before midnight?” Patri asked, her tone amused.

Claudia shook her head, but her lips curled into a small smile. “With the way she’s looking at her, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

The teasing continued as Alexia returned with the drinks, but she didn’t let it faze her. She was used to her teammates giving her a hard time. “Here you go,” Alexia said, handing you your drink. “Ignore them—they love to poke fun.”

You laughed, taking the drink. “I think they might be onto something though. You’ve got a bit of that ‘heart-eyes’ look right now.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “They’re insufferable,” she muttered under her breath, but there was an amused sparkle in her eyes as she looked at you.

Just as the conversation died down, Patri called out loudly from across the bar, “Hey, ale, don’t forget! It’s New Year’s Eve—perfect time for a kiss, right?”

Alexia shot a glare at her, but the playful smile she gave you showed no signs of being upset. “Ignore her,” Alexia said with a chuckle. “She’s just looking for drama.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of her presence. "Well, if you insist on ignoring them, I guess I’ll just have to keep you company instead."

---

The night continued on, filled with laughter, teasing, and good conversation. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the energy in the bar grew more intense. The countdown began, and you could feel the anticipation in the air.

Alexia was standing a little closer now, and every glance you exchanged made your heart flutter. Finally, when the clock struck midnight, the whole bar erupted in cheers. You felt Alexia step closer, her breath warm against your skin, and without a second thought, she leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a slow, lingering kiss. It was brief, but it carried so much unspoken energy between you two—an electric charge that made everything around you disappear for a moment. When she pulled back, her smile was soft, and her eyes sparkled with something deeper.

"Happy New Year," Alexia whispered, her voice just for you.

"Happy New Year," you replied, feeling your heart race, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t care about anything else.

---

The days after New Year’s Eve were filled with messages, phone calls, and casual conversations that made you smile every time you checked your phone. Alexia had texted you the morning after the party, and you had quickly exchanged texts, agreeing to go on a proper date.

“Had a great time with you last night. Wanna grab dinner sometime this week?” Alexia had messaged you.

Your heart fluttered as you quickly responded, “Absolutely. When’s good for you?”

She replied almost instantly: “How about Thursday? There’s this great Italian place I know. The food’s amazing.”

“Sounds perfect. Can’t wait,” you texted back, already excited about the idea of seeing her again.

---

Thursday evening rolled around, and you found yourself waiting outside the restaurant, your heart beating faster with anticipation. When Alexia arrived, you couldn’t help but smile. She looked effortlessly stunning in a black leather jacket, her dark hair loose around her shoulders.

“Hey,” she greeted you with a soft smile. “Ready to eat?”

“Definitely,” you replied with a grin, feeling your nerves ease as soon as she was in front of you.

The meal was perfect—casual yet intimate, with easy conversation flowing. You laughed, talked about everything from your favorite foods to the random little details that made each of you unique. You felt like you were learning more about her with every sentence.

By the end of the evening, you exchanged numbers for real, saved each other's contacts, and promised to keep in touch. Alexia smiled at you, her gaze soft and her heart-eyes unmistakable.

“I’m glad we did this,” she said, her voice quieter now, but full of sincerity.

“Me too,” you replied, feeling the connection between you grow stronger. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Neither can I,” Alexia said, her hand brushing yours as she pulled away, a grin on her face.

As she drove away, you stood there, watching her leave with a heart full of possibility, knowing that this was just the beginning of something amazing.

---

And so, with a kiss, a few exchanged messages, and the start of something real, you and Alexia began to explore what this new year had in store for the both of you.

And that night , you both didn't know it, but you had each net the love of your lives . Your New years meeting would become a story that you would tell to your kids , and a story that your kids will tell to their kids.

[yeoningz]

okay so i don’t think ill ever forgive you for kai. like ever. that genuinely was such a twist for me i was not ready at ALL

but omg this fic 😭😭😭🩷🩷🩷 so wonderfully done, genuinely like reading a published fantasy book i was blown away. every scene with kai had my heart so full and then you went and DID HIM LIKE THAT WTFFFF

mc and yeonjun have such adorable banter in this it was so cuteeee :(( and kora was such a wonderful character i can’t believe you did that to her either

you do great job at writing characters that i hate lmao 😭😭 but you could NEVER make me hate tyun he was doing his own lordly duties it’s not his fault I CAN FIX HIMMM

the ending has me wanting so much more… i hope that they live happily ever after together far away… and that nothing bad ever happens to them ever…

running out of things to say other than that this blew me away. genuinely speechless AND HOW FAST YOU WROTE THIS TOO??? convinced that you’re not of this world.

pls add me to ur taglist pls pls 🙏🙏

A KISS FOR THE CURSED - ,, ୧ ‧₊˚ c.yj

》 In a kingdom of stone and gold, there lived a princess with hair as pink as the dawn. Her heart, though draped in royal jewels, was heavy with the weight of expectation, for the king and queen demanded she find a husband worthy of her title. The castle’s walls pressed close, and her spirit yearned for freedom, for something beyond the cold, glittering halls.

One day, when the pressure became too great, she slipped away from the castle and wandered into the woods, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. It was there, among the trees, that she met him—a boy, no older than she, with eyes like the forest and a bow slung over his shoulder. He was a hunter, living in a humble cabin, selling the fruits of his labor to those who passed by. But in the way he moved, so graceful and wild, the princess saw something more—a soul untainted by the constraints of royalty....

》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…

pairings » archer!yeonjun x princess!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » royal au » forbidden romance »

warnings » smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f) receiving, angst, longing, forbidden romance, yeonjun hunts animals, reader has pink hair, very heavily inspired by the 'once upon a broken heart' series by Stephanie garber, major character death, kai is seventeen in this, also featuring beomgyu briefly, blood, beatings, dungeons, toxic parents, royal hierarchy, a bit of grumpy x sunshine, readers pov is 2nd person "You" yeonjun's pov is 3rd person "He" a lot is in yeonjun's pov though, yeonjun has a noticeable scar on his eyebrow (for the plot), kind of love at first sight, this is not slow burn sorry, there is a disease called "The fever"

« 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 »

word count « 24K »

The golden glow of a single candle bathes your chambers, its light dancing across the silk-draped walls. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The polished wood of the brush feels cool in your hand, a small comfort against the storm brewing inside you. Behind you, there’s the soft rustle of skirts, a sound that sets your nerves on edge even before she speaks. “Darling,” your mother begins, her voice sweet, almost sing-song as she opens your door without so much as a knock.  “You’re twenty now. A woman grown. You can’t keep hiding behind those books and tapestries forever.” She glides across the room and perches on the edge of your bed, her posture as poised and deliberate as her words. 

“I’m not hiding, Mother,” you reply without turning to face her. Your reflection catches hers in the mirror—a study in contrasts. You, unadorned and weary. Her, perfect and poised, a mask of maternal care that you’ve come to mistrust. She was not the sweet doting mother she pretends to be, and you felt her icy-ness as soon as she neared you. 

“Of course not,” she says with a light laugh, the sound brushing away your words as though they were a child’s excuse. “But it’s time you thought seriously about your future. The kingdom needs alliances and a good match could secure that.” 

You place the brush down with deliberate care and turn to face her. “And what if I don’t love any of these ‘good matches’? Am I to bind myself to someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?” You had grown tired of this same conversation. One you've had a million times over with her and your father. 

She sighs, and for a moment, the warmth in her voice almost feels real. Almost. “Oh, my sweet girl, love is a luxury we can’t always afford. Your father and I—” She pauses, her hand drifting to her heart as if recalling a fond memory. “We grew to love each other over time. You’ll see. Love often follows where duty leads.” You narrow your eyes, searching her face for cracks in the mask. “Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?”

Her expression wavers—just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. The softness in her eyes hardens, and when she stands, it’s with a grace that feels more commanding than comforting. “Don’t let childish notions blind you” she says, her tone sharper now. “The world isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a harsh, unyielding place, and one day, you’ll rule it. You must start preparing for that now.” 

Your throat tightens, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.” 

Her lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, cupping your cheek in her hand. The gesture is tender, but her eyes betray her—calculating, assessing. “You’ll understand someday, my love,” she murmurs. “And when you do, you’ll thank me for guiding you.” You pull away, your skin burning where her hand had rested. She lingers for a moment longer, her presence suffocating even in its quietness. Then, with a swish of her skirts, she moves to the door. The click of it closing echoes in the silence she leaves behind. You stare at your reflection, your chest heaving with unshed tears and unsaid words. The candlelight catches the glint of defiance in your eyes, and in that moment, you vow that no one—not even your mother—will decide your future for you.

You had never snuck out of the castle before. The thought had scared you enough that you hadn’t ever dared to attempt it, but tonight you felt you had to. The suffocating four walls of your chambers had felt so overbearing that the thought of another second in them would cause the end of your life. You had to escape, even if only for a few hours at least. You needed fresh air. To feel the wind in your hair, smell the trees and feel the grass between your fingertips. 

You rarely get that these days, with all the preparations of finding you a husband and shipping you off to some unknown country with a man that was to be your husband and yet a stranger at the same time. You couldn't handle it anymore. You grabbed your cloak and made quick work on sneaking out. 

The castle sleeps. Its towering spires stretch into the star-speckled sky, dark against the moonlight. You slip from your chambers, the soft soles of your boots muffling each step on the cold stone floor. The velvet cloak swirls around your ankles, its deep green fabric blending into the shadows as you descend the servant's staircase. Your heart races, but not from fear. It's the exhilaration of escape, of leaving behind the suffocating weight of expectations.

The conversation you and your mother had not even an hour ago swimming in your mind. The words of your father this morning echoing in your head like a cacophony "This lord has lands to the west," they said. "That one commands an army. It’s time to secure your future.” You grit your teeth at the thought, gripping the edge of your cloak tighter. They don’t understand. Marriage isn’t what frightens you—it’s the thought of marrying someone who sees you as a pawn, not a person. You couldn't bring yourself to have a marriage like your mother and fathers. A marriage that lacked authenticity, lacked real love. You refused it. Rebuked it. 

The air is cooler as you reach the garden gate, slipping through the narrow gap you discovered years ago. The guards won’t check here; they never do. Beyond the walls lies freedom, the forest calling to you like an old friend. The scent of damp earth and pine greets you as you step into the woods. The moon guides your path, its light filtering through the canopy. You keep your pace quick but quiet. You had a general idea of the outlands of the castle from all of your lessons. You needed to know how to get out of the castle in case of an attack. You were sure that your teachers didn't know you'd be using the information they taught you to sneak out, but here you were. 

The forest feels alive tonight. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and a gentle breeze stirs the leaves above. Each step takes you further from the castle, from the expectations, from the stifling weight of duty. You keep your steps light trying your best to make as little as sound as possible. You couldn't risk being caught. Then you hear it, a faint thwack ahead, the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, carefully, you edge closer, stepping around a patch of dry leaves to avoid making a sound. Peeking around a thick oak, you see him. A man unfamiliar to you. He stands in the clearing, tall and strong, his silhouette framed by moonlight. A bow is in his hands, an arrow already knocked. His movements are fluid, deliberate, as if every motion is a part of a dance. The arrow flies, and your breath catches as it strikes dead center on the straw target.

He’s beautiful. The moon shines just enough through the branches of the trees above him creating a halo like light over his head and face. You should turn back. You know this. You should retrace your steps and leave before he notices you. But you don’t. Something about him holds you in place. His focus, the grace in his movements, the quiet strength in the way he adjusts his stance. He’s close to your age, maybe a year or two older, with dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He’s the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. And by far the most graceful. 

He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. You crouch lower behind the tree, your cloak pooling around you. The thrill of sneaking out has faded into something else—something warmer, something unfamiliar. You had never had the privilege of just watching a man so..closely like this. You weren't even allowed to be around a man without a chaperone. You tell yourself you’re just curious. It’s not often you meet someone out here in the woods. But as you watch him, you realize it’s more than that. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before. 

He has no idea you’re here. And for now, you’re content to watch, hidden in the shadows of the trees, as he draws and releases, each arrow flying true. The world feels smaller at this moment. The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars. You watch for only a breath longer before the stillness breaks under your foot. A dry leaf, hidden beneath the forest loam, crumples with a loud crack that seems to echo in the night. The archer freezes. His body tenses as he pivots toward you, bow raised, an arrow drawn in a heartbeat. The sudden movement sends a jolt of panic through you, and you instinctively step back, pressing against the rough bark of the tree.

“Who’s there?” His voice is sharp, low, and commanding. The moonlight glints off his eyes—hard and narrowed, scanning the shadows where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, you consider fleeing, but before you can move, he spots you. “Show yourself,” he demands, the arrow steady in his grip. 

Slowly, you step out from behind the tree, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The cloak’s hood still shrouds your face, but the moonlight catches the strands of pink hair peeking out. His gaze sharpens, and you see his brow furrow as he lowers the bow slightly. “a girl?” His voice softens but only slightly, his tone still laced with suspicion. He lowers the bow completely but doesn’t relax, his eyes studying you intently. “What are you doing out here, creeping around like that?” 

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of how small you feel under his piercing gaze. “I wasn’t creeping,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I was… walking. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Walking,” he repeats, his tone flat and disbelieving. He glances at your cloak, the fine embroidery glinting faintly in the moonlight. “In the middle of the night. Alone. Right.” He snorts, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. “Who are you?” His demeanor startled you, not expecting such a graceful man to sound so..rough. 

You hesitate. You’re not ready to give your name—or your title. “No one important.” If he knew you were the princess there was no guessing what he would do. Turn you in? Kidnap you? Hold you for ransom, it was unknown but you'd rather not find out. 

He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “No one important who sneaks through the woods and watches people like a ghost.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and indignation. “I wasn’t watching you—well, not on purpose. I heard something, and I… got curious.” You couldn't explain to him that you didn't get out much, he would ask too many questions. You'd rather have him think you a dumb naive girl then a sheltered princess. 

His expression softens, but only slightly. He seems to accept your answer, though he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. “Curiosity gets people into trouble. Especially out here.” You should feel insulted by his gruffness, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something captivating about the way he carries himself, the guarded way he speaks. He’s not like the polished, over-rehearsed lords who populate the castle halls. He’s… real. It was as perplexing as it was scary, how little knowledge you had of the common folk, how little you saw them. He was beautiful like a prince, even more than most but something about him felt unpolished and you admired that. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. But you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him, tracing the sharp angles of his face, the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, though his scowl adds an edge to it, like he’s carved from stone. He notices your lingering gaze and narrows his eyes. “What?” How he wasn’t more concerned by a random girl creeping on him in the middle of the night had struck you. 

“Nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your cloak tighter around you. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before.” Which was the truth. You had never seen the guards in true action, you had only seen them practicing and even then they were nowhere near as precise as this man was. 

His scowl deepens, though a faint hint of surprise flickers in his expression. “You were watching me.” 

Your cheeks flush again, and you look away, hoping the shadows hide your embarrassment. “Only for a moment. You’re… good.” 

For the first time, he seems caught off guard. He looks at you as if trying to figure you out, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, whoever you are, it’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here. Go home.” You hated the way he spoke to you, like you were a useless pesky object in his way. Like everyone around you spoke to you. 

His tone is dismissive, but you don’t move. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. “Why are you out here, then?” 

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “That’s none of your business.” 

“And me being here is none of yours,” you counter, surprising yourself with your boldness. You had never talked back to anyone before. Partly in fear of what your mother and father would do to you as a punishment. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes catching the moonlight. 

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

“And you’re grumpy,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

“Suit yourself. Just don’t get in my way.” He says with a snark, dismissing you completely. As he turns back to his target, knocking another arrow, you find yourself smiling beneath your hood. For the first time in days, you feel alive—caught in the strange, thrilling pull of the forest, the night, and the boy who doesn’t know who you are. It was hopelessly refreshing, having someone to banter with. He hadn't known you were the princess. All expectations of respectfully boring conversation were not needed here, you felt normal. 

You don’t leave. Something about him keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s his impenetrable demeanor, so unlike anyone you’ve met before. Or maybe it’s the way he seems utterly unconcerned by you, as though you’re not worth the effort of a proper scolding. Either way, instead of retreating, you take a few cautious steps closer. “What are you still doing here?” he asks without looking back, his voice carrying a rough edge. He draws another arrow and lets it fly. Thwack. It lands squarely in the center of the target. You swear you could have drooled at the sight alone. You were just a girl after all. 

“I told you—I was walking,” you say, folding your arms beneath the cloak. 

​​“In the middle of the night. In that?” He gestures vaguely toward you without turning. Your cloak shifts as you glance down at yourself. The hem of your pink dress peeks out, delicate and impractical. The sight of it makes you wince. It’s not exactly what you’d have chosen for sneaking into the woods, but there hadn’t been time to change. You had very minimal time before the confines of your bedroom swallowed you whole. 

“Yes, this,” you reply, tilting your chin. “Not all of us plan our wardrobe for forest excursions.” 

That earns you a glance over his shoulder. His eyes rake over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious. Then he snorts. “You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” Your spine straightens at his words. He didn’t know..did he? 

Your cheeks burn. “For your information, I didn’t plan to be out here tonight.” You try your best to avert the subject, avoiding all talk of balls and princess-like duties. 

“Oh, clearly,” he mutters, turning back to his bow. “Because you definitely blend right in.” 

You roll your eyes, stepping closer again. “Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” Your lips purse suppressing your smile. That gets his attention. He pauses mid-draw and glances at you, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. “Lucky,” he says dryly, before loosing the arrow. Another perfect shot. 

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly entertained. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re nosy,” he counters, retrieving another arrow. 

“I don't get out much.” You say with a lift of your shoulders. 

“Clearly.” He deadpanned. “What’s your excuse for being out here, anyway? Fancy dresses and all?” 

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, pulling your cloak tighter. “I needed to get away.” 

“From what?” he asks, his tone skeptical. 

You glance at the ground, then back up at him. His eyes are on you now, not the target, and you feel a strange urge to tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. “Look who's being nosey now.” He snorts as you continue “My parents,” you admit softly. “They’re… overbearing.” 

He snorts. “Overbearing parents? Shocking.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop, telling me who I should be, what I should want. It’s—” You trail off, shaking your head. “It’s exhausting.” 

For a moment, he just looks at you, the teasing edge in his expression fading. “So, what? You ran off to the woods to escape their nagging?” 

“Something like that,” you say, lifting your chin. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

He huffed a laugh and leaned against his bow. “Fair enough. But sneaking into the woods wearing that dress?” He gestures again at the hem of your gown. “Bold choice.” 

“Do you ever stop criticizing people?” you shoot back, though there’s no real venom in your words. 

“Not when they make it this easy.” His smirk returns, faint but noticeable. 

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling beneath your hood. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving.” 

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, turning back to his target. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you if you trip over your fancy shoes.”  

You bite back a retort and instead settle against a tree to watch him. He doesn’t seem to mind—though he throws the occasional glance your way, as if checking to make sure you haven’t disappeared or done something foolish. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic thwack of his arrows. It’s strangely comforting, this moment shared with a stranger in the middle of the woods. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the crown on your head feels a little lighter. 

You watch as he moves with practiced ease, drawing and releasing arrow after arrow. The steady rhythm of his practice feels like the heartbeat of the forest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the quiet wash over you. The weight of the day—the endless parade of suitors, the sharp-edged words of your parents, the suffocating walls of the castle—feels distant now, almost unreal. Out here, under the stars, you’re not the princess with a duty to marry for the good of the kingdom. You’re just… you. 

The thought stirs something bittersweet in your chest. You know this moment can’t last. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to the castle, to the expectations and the responsibilities. This fleeting sense of freedom, of solace, will be nothing but a memory. You open your eyes again, focusing on him. He’s still at it, firing arrow after arrow with a precision that’s almost mesmerizing. There’s a quiet determination in the way he moves, as though this practice is more than a simple pastime. It feels like a ritual, a way of carving out his own space in the world. He moved like he was meant to be there, like the act of archery was engraved into his soul. 

For a brief, foolish moment, you wonder what it would be like to stay. To slip away from the castle every night, to watch him practice and trade sharp words under the moonlight. But you shake the thought away. It’s impossible. Still, you linger. You don’t want to leave just yet—not while the night still feels alive around you, not while you can still breathe without the weight of the crown pressing down.

Silently, you push away from the tree and step back into the shadows. The forest seems quieter now, as though it knows you’re leaving. You glance back once, catching the faint glint of his bow in the moonlight, the outline of his form as he lines up another shot. You slip away before he can notice, retracing your steps through the woods and back toward the castle. The chill of the night air clings to you, and the weight of reality begins to settle back onto your shoulders with each step closer to the towering walls.

By the time you slip through the garden gate, the spell is broken. The castle looms ahead, its windows dark and silent, the very air around it heavy with expectations. But for a few precious hours, you had tasted something different—something real. And as you climb the servant’s staircase back to your chambers, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. 

The morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the dining hall, casting jeweled patterns onto the long oak table. You sit in your usual seat, the one that feels more like a throne than a chair, the weight of your parents’ presence pressing down on you like the crown you don’t yet wear. Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least for you. The clink of silverware and the murmurs of servants fill the space as your father, The king mutters about political alliances to your mother, The Queen. His deep voice carries a sharp edge, his words precise and biting, even when directed at your mother. You keep your head down, focused on the food sitting in front of you. 

You barely hear him call your name. Your thoughts are elsewhere—lost in the forest, in the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet thwack of an arrow hitting its mark. You see the archer in your mind’s eye, his focused gaze, the smooth movement of his hands as he loosed each shot. “Are you listening?” your father snaps, his voice cutting through your reverie like a whip. 

You blink, startled, and glance up at him. His dark eyes are cold and unforgiving, his thick brows drawn into a scowl. “Yes, Father,” you lie, though you have no idea what he just said. Trying to gather yourself. Your father was a very angry man, even more so when you were being disobedient. 

He doesn’t believe you—he never does—but he waves it off, taking another bite of bread. “Good. Then you understand how important this ball is.” 

The word ball yanks you out of your thoughts entirely. You sit up straighter, your heart sinking. “A ball?” You narrowly avoided most balls claiming to be sick, or having your nursemaid lie and say you had lessons very early in the morning. Not like your parents knew you were lying, they rarely kept track of those things, only that they were being done. 

“Yes,” your mother says, her voice softer but no less resolute. She looks at you with the faintest trace of pity, but it does little to soothe the knot forming in your chest. “It’s time for you to meet suitors. Proper ones. The lords of the neighboring countries will all be in attendance.” 

You shake your head, your fingers tightening around the silver spoon in your hand. “I don’t want a ball. I don’t want suitors.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Any defiance to your father was a grave mistake, one you were sure you’d regret shortly here. 

Your father slams his goblet onto the table, making you flinch. “You don’t get to decide what you want,” he growls. “You have a duty to this kingdom, girl. Do you think your whims matter when alliances are at stake?” His words shake you. You knew how he felt but hearing him say it didn't make the blow any less hurtful. It brought you back to the quiet nights you spent curled into a ball on your bed at eight years old wondering why your daddy didn't love you like the other daddies did, why was yours so mean. 

You lower your gaze to your plate, your stomach twisting. The archer’s face flickers in your mind again, unbidden. You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this, cowed under your father’s fury. The pink hue of your long hair covering your face shielding you from your embarrassment. “You’ll go to your dress fitting after breakfast,” your mother adds, her tone brisk as though she’s trying to smooth over the tension. “Nursemaid Kora will take you. Everything must be perfect.” 

Perfect. The word feels like shackles on your wrists. 

“Do you understand?” your father demands. 

“Yes,” you say quietly, though the word feels like ash on your tongue. The king grunts, satisfied, and turns back to his food. The rest of breakfast passes in strained silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of servants or the scrape of knives on plates. Your thoughts were loud as they rattled around in your head. 

Oh how did you long for a normal life, with a normal family and parents who loved you. You glance toward the far end of the room, where the king’s guard stands like statues, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. Their presence is a constant reminder of the cage you live in—one gilded and grand, but a cage nonetheless. 

Your mind drifts again, this time to the forest, to the sense of freedom you’d felt beneath the trees. To the archer, with his sharp gaze and quiet strength. You wonder if he’s out there now, practicing his craft in the clearing. Does he think about you at all? Did he even notice the way you lingered last night? You thought of his beautiful face and the way the moonlight caught it just right. 

Foolishly you thought of a life with him. One filled with love and light, one that you had only conjured in your mind. It was unattainable and you were sure you would never see him again but still the thought loosened your bones and slowled the rapid beating of your heart. You didn't even know his name, and he yours but still you daydreamed the way he would whisper it, into the woods and into wind all the way until it reached you. It would engulf you, swirling around your being and reaching your heart. 

Your mother calls your name with a softness that only you knew was faux. “Come.” She says rising from her seat. “Kora is waiting.” You nod numbly and stand, your pink dress swishing around your legs as you follow her out of the dining hall. But your heart stays behind, tangled somewhere between the memory of the archer’s steady hands and the ache of knowing you’ll likely never see him again. 

The village square bustled with life, though as always, it seemed to pulse around him, not with him. Yeonjun stood near the edge of the market, his wares laid out neatly on a rough-hewn table: freshly skinned rabbit pelts, bundles of dried herbs, and slabs of venison wrapped in cloth. He adjusted the placement of the furs, not because they needed straightening, but because it gave him something to do.

The morning sun warmed his back, but he felt no comfort in it. A pair of women whispered as they passed, their glances darting his way like skittish birds. One muttered a prayer under her breath, her gaze lingering on the scar that cut across his brow—a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse. They always whispered about him. Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed. He clenched his jaw and focused on his work, brushing his fingers over the pelts. Let them talk.

“Still brooding, I see.” Yeonjun didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. Beomgyu, his only friend, or as close to one as he allowed. The man sauntered over, carrying a sack slung across his broad shoulders, his cheeks red from the morning chill.

“I’m not brooding,” Yeonjun muttered, though he didn’t lift his head. 

“Sure you’re not.” Beomgyu dropped the sack beside the table with a dull thud. “You’ve got that same ‘stay away from me’ look you always do.” Beomgyu sent Yeonjun a crooked teasing grin. 

Yeonjun gave him a sidelong glance. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Beomgyu laughed, a deep, easy sound that drew a few more glances from the villagers. Unlike Yeonjun , Beomgyu seemed immune to the weight of their stares. His carelessness was off putting to Yeonjun “You know, you might be less miserable if you actually talked to people once in a while.”

“I talk to you, don’t I?” Yeonjun said flatly.

Beomgyu shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not people. I’m a saint for putting up with you.” A saint was far from what Yeonjun would call Beomgyu. The boy was anything but a saint. 

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, but the faint flicker of amusement quickly faded. His mind drifted unbidden to the girl in the woods. Her cloak, the way the moonlight caught the strands of pink hair peeking from beneath it. Who was she? Although he rarely frequented the village, opting to stick to his little cabin in the woods, he was sure that he would spot that bright pink hair anywhere on any given day. Everyone came to the village on selling days, surely he would have seen her walking around, right? 

He’d told himself to forget her. To let her vanish into the shadows of memory like everything else. But the image of her standing beneath the trees, her voice soft but bold, wouldn’t leave him. “Anyway,” Beomgyu said, breaking Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I came to ask you something.”

Yeonjun raised a thick brow. “What?”

Beomgyu grinned, a little too wide. “There’s work up at the castle.”

Yeonjun’s expression darkened immediately. “No.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Beomgyu said, unfazed. “The princess’s ball is coming up. They need extra hands for the feast. We’d be in the kitchens, nothing fancy. Just bringing up meat for the royals.”

“I said no,” Yeonjun growled, his voice low.

Beomgyu leaned against the table, crossing his arms. Gone was the playfulness, a look of desperation in its place. “Look, I know you hate the nobles—” 

“I don’t hate them,” Yeonjun snapped. “I just don’t care for their games.” 

“Fine. Call it what you want. But they’re paying good coin, and we could use the work.” Beomgyu’s voice softened slightly. “You could use it, Yeonjun. How long are you going to keep doing this?” He gestured to the table, to the furs and meat that earned just enough to keep him alive. Yeonjun glanced down, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He did need the money. 

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice sharp and bitter. 

Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” Yeonjun flinched away from the touch, shrugging it off. He started packing up his things, his movements quick and tense. But even as he worked, his mind drifted again to the girl in the woods. 

Her voice had been so sure when she’d said she was curious, her smile hidden beneath her hood. And yet, there had been something else in her eyes, something that mirrored the ache he carried in his own chest. Almost like a mirror of himself. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her again. 

Everyone he loved—everyone he cared for—was gone. His family, his friends. Death followed him like a shadow, and he would not drag her into it. He wouldn’t. He would take the coin from the castle and leave. He wouldn’t think about her again. But as he slung his pack over his shoulder and followed Beomgyu out of the square, he knew it was a lie.

The cabin creaked as the night wind curled around its edges, pushing through the gaps in the wooden shutters. Yeonjun sat by the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded him, giving him a momentary reprieve from his restless thoughts. The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, but the warmth did little to soften the cold weight in his chest. The girl from the woods was still there in his mind, her pink hair catching the moonlight, her voice lilting like birdsong. He hated that he kept thinking about her. 

A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness. Yeonjun froze, his hand tightening on the knife. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the door. No one came out here—no one dared, except for Beomgyu. And Beomgyu never knocked, opting to barge whenever he pleased. Another knock, louder this time.

With a sigh, Yeonjun stood and set the knife on the table. He crossed the room, pulling the door open just enough to see who stood on the other side.A boy no older than seventeen stared up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his arms full of rolled newspapers. His oversized coat hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and his breath came in little white puffs. 

“Mr.Yeonjun!” the boy said brightly, his voice breaking through the quiet night. Yeonjun recognized him as the oldest Huening son, Kai. A paper boy for all of the village. Why he was delivering Papers this late at night was beyond Yeonjun. 

“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun said sharply, glancing past the boy to the empty forest path. “You’re supposed to leave the paper on the doorstep.” 

Kai shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous under Yeonjun’s glare. “I—I know. But I wanted to see you.” 

“Why?” Was all Yeonjun said, not in the mood for a long winded conversation at this hour. 

Kai’s face lit up, his nervousness replaced with eager determination. “I’ve seen you. In the woods. Shooting your bow. You’re amazing! No one in the village can shoot like you can.” He took a step closer, his wide eyes shining with admiration. “Will you teach me?” The light from the cabin illuminated the boy's features, catching the stark blonde of his hair and his boyish features. Although Yeonjun was only a few years older than the boy he had felt far more wise beyond his years. Kai was comparable to a..well a child in Yeonjun’s eyes. 

Yeonjun stared at him, the boy’s words settling like an unwelcome weight in his chest. “No,” he said bluntly. 

​​Kai’s  face fell, but he pressed on. “Please, I’ll work for it! I can help with chores, or—” 

“You don’t understand,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low and hard. “I don’t have time to waste teaching some kid how to shoot arrows.”

Kai flinched, but he held his ground. “I—I could learn fast,” he stammered. “I swear I’d—”

“Go home,” Yeonjun snapped, his hand tightening on the door. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be out here.” Kai hesitated, but he finally nodded. Yeonjun shut the door without another word. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly as Kai’s footsteps faded down the path.

The room felt colder now, the fire’s warmth unable to reach him. He shook his head and went back to his chair, picking up the knife again. He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He didn’t need one more thing to care about. Everyone who had ever mattered to him was gone. Kai didn’t understand what he was asking for. Yeonjun couldn’t be a mentor, a teacher, a protector. He wouldn’t risk letting someone else into his life—just to lose them too. The paper still sat on the doorstep, forgotten in the cold. 

The grand hall of the castle was an entirely different world from the forest Yeonjun knew so well. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and perfumes far too sweet for his liking. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the polished floors and the opulent tapestries lining the walls.Yeonjun had never set foot in the castle before. Being surrounded by so many nobles who shot him noticeable looks of disdain was something he would never get used to, even as the hours ticked by. 

Yeonjun moved silently through the crowd, a tray of roasted duck balanced on one hand. His dark tunic and dress pants, provided by the castle staff, were a poor attempt at blending in. He still felt like a wolf among peacocks. The nobility barely noticed him as he passed, save for the occasional stare, their laughter and chatter a dull hum in his ears.“Keep moving,” Beomgyu muttered as he brushed past with a tray of wine-filled glasses. “And don’t glare at everyone. You’ll scare off the coin.” 

Yeonjun grunted but said nothing, his focus on his task. He hated the castle, hated the hollow grandeur of it all. The villagers whispered about the luxury the royals lived in, and now, seeing it up close, Yeonjun understood why they seethed with resentment. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called, silencing the room. The herald stepped forward, his red and gold uniform gleaming in the light. “May I present her royal highness, Our very own Princess. Daughter of The King and Queen!”  

Yeonjun froze.

The crowd turned toward the sweeping staircase, where she appeared, her head held high, her movements graceful and deliberate. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light like starlight on water. But it wasn’t the dress that made his chest tighten. Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor. 

It was her hair.

Pink. 

His breath caught in his throat as memories of the woods flooded back—the girl in the cloak, her bold words, her curiosity. He had thought of her endlessly since that night, but he’d never expected this. She descended the staircase slowly, her expression serene, but Yeonjun caught the brief flicker of nerves in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze brushing over the sea of faces, until it landed on him. Her steps faltered, just barely, and only for a mere second. It had gone unnoticed by everyone but him. He knew the look in her eye matched his own. 

Yeonjun saw the recognition in her widened eyes, the way her lips parted as though she might speak. But then she blinked, regaining her composure. Her gaze slid away as though nothing had happened, and she continued her descent. His grip on the tray tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had vowed not to see her again, and yet here she was, standing among the very people he resented most. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. Resentment? Anger? A little bit of pity? Really he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't tell him who she was the night in the woods but still..Yeonjun felt like a fool. 

The evening wore on, the ball unfolding in a haze of music and laughter. Yeonjun moved through the crowd, refilling glasses and delivering trays of food. But his attention was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. She danced with suitors, her gown flowing around her like liquid light. She smiled at them, laughed at their jokes, but Yeonjun saw the tension in her posture, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. He had only known her a short while and still he knew the true feeling behind her faux smile. How had no one noticed how much she hated this? How did the King and Queen not? Or did they just not care?

Despite the distance between them, she noticed him too. Their eyes met across the room again and again—when he passed by with a tray of wine, when she lingered near the edge of the dance floor. Each time, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she looked away. Yeonjun felt fear that someone would notice, someone who would think that there was more there than what led on. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want to see her. By the time the night began to wane, Yeonjun was certain of one thing: the princess was just as out of place here as he was. 

As the night went on the small glances toward each other had become too much for Yeonjun to bear. The need for food and drink was starting to die down as the nobles became more intoxicated, sticking to their silly little dances and belly laughing conversations. He decided excusing himself to go outside for fresh air was the best thing for him. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling ballroom. Yeonjun leaned against the stone balustrade of the castle balcony, the distant sound of music and laughter muffled by the heavy doors behind him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars scattered like flecks of silver against the inky black. 

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This was a mistake—coming here, taking this job. Seeing her. He knew even being near the castle would bring him trouble. He knew he hated royals for a reason. The door creaked open behind him, the soft rustle of fabric giving her away before she even spoke. Yeonjun closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He looked around at his surroundings. “Shouldn’t you be inside, Your Highness?” he said without turning around to look at her. 

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice carrying that same mix of curiosity and defiance he remembered from the woods. Yeonjun turned, his arms crossed. She stood just a few feet away, the silver gown catching the faint light like moonbeams on water. Her pink hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked more like a dream than a person. A dangerous dream. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said flatly. “Someone might see us.” 

“I don’t care,” she said, stepping closer, teetering on a thin line close to danger. 

“Well, I do,” he shot back. “If anyone gets the wrong idea—” 

“Let them,” she interrupted. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

​​Yeonjun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“There is,” she insisted. “I—I wanted to explain.”

“Explain what?” He gestured toward her, his voice dropping. “That you’re a princess and I’m just some cursed hunter? That we shouldn’t even be in the same room together?” Her eyes knit together at the word cursed, it had given Yeonjun a small sprinkling of foolish hope that she hadn’t heard about him, and what people whispered about him and his family. 

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “You’re angry.” Her cheeks flush from the cold. If it weren't for the circumstances Yeonjun would have thought it to be cute. 

“I’m not angry,” Yeonjun said sharply. “I’m realistic. You shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be here with you.” 

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Why not? Because I’m a princess?” Her pink hair framing her face in the most delicate way. 

“Yes!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re a princess. And if anyone sees us out here, I’ll be the one paying for it, not you.” 

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re right. I am a princess. And all night, I’ve had to smile and pretend that everything’s fine. That I’m perfectly happy dancing with men who don’t know a thing about me. But I saw you, and for a moment, I felt…” Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat. They were definitely inching towards a very dangerous game, one he didn't want to play. 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low. He couldn't hear her say it. 

“Why?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ll be tempted to feel something too?” 

He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Unable to look her in the eye. 

“Oh, I think I’m right,” she said, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest tightened. 

“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t want…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists. 

“Don’t want what?” she pressed gently, not that she had to press much. Yeonjun would soon turn to a pile of mush for her if she needed him to.  

“I don’t want my head to end up on a stake,” he said bluntly, turning back to her. “All because you’re having some sort of quarter-life crisis.” 

Her mouth opened in surprise, then closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re infuriating,” she muttered. 

And you’re reckless,” he shot back. 

She tilted her head, studying him. “Is that why you keep looking at me? Because you think I’m reckless?” 

“I’m not interested in falling in love,” he said firmly, ignoring her question. 

The words seemed to land heavier than he intended. For the first time, her confidence faltered, her expression softening. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. The look on her face hurt Yeonjun more than he would like to admit. 

“Think whatever you want,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “But nothing good can come of this. Go inside, Your Highness. Your kingdom’s waiting.”

“What’s your name?” She asked with a whisper. “Please grant me that.” Her voice pleading was soft enough to melt his heart. 

“Choi Yeonjun, my name is Choi Yeonjun, and I'm sorry.” Before she could respond, he slipped back into the ballroom, leaving her standing alone on the balcony beneath the stars. 

The days following the ball were restless. You went through the motions of royal life—meals with your parents, lessons on etiquette, the endless parade of suitors vying for your hand. But none of it could hold your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Yeonjun. 

His name was an anchor, tethering you to something real in a world that felt increasingly false. Every glance exchanged at the ball, every word spoken in the woods, played on a loop in your mind. By the third night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew the risks, but the yearning to see him again was stronger than your fear. As the castle sank into sleep, you enlisted the help of your nursemaid, the one person who had ever shown you an ounce of warmth. 

“She’ll kill me for this,” she muttered, bundling you into a heavy cloak. “But I’ll not have you looking like a caged bird any longer. Be back before dawn, child.” With her help, you slipped past the guards, past the watchful eyes of the palace, and into the night. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It guided you, just as it had the night before, to the clearing where you had first seen him. The path there was more grueling than you remembered, probably due to the anticipation of seeing him again. 

There he was. Yeonjun stood in the moonlight, his bow drawn, the string taut as he aimed at a crude target pinned to a tree. He let the arrow fly, and it struck true, embedding itself with a satisfying thunk. You stepped forward, the forest floor damp beneath your boots. “Impressive as always.” 

He spun around, his hand already reaching for another arrow. But this time, he didn’t nock it. His shoulders stiffened as he recognized you, and his brow furrowed in frustration. “Princess,” he said sharply, his voice low but tinged with anger. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you,” you said, as calmly as you could manage, the rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage a testament to what you actually felt. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer. His eyes were dark, and the tension in his frame reminded you of a coiled spring. “Do you have any idea what could happen if someone found out?” 

“I don’t care,” you replied, lifting your chin. “I had to come.” You could admit that you were being incredibly stubborn but you didn’t care. This was something you had to do. 

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.” 

“No.” The single word hung in the air between you, and the silence stretched until it was broken by the first raindrop splashing onto the ground. The cold finally sets into your bones and sends a shiver up your spine. You wrapped your cloak closer around your body not letting the droplets of rain sway you. 

Yeonjun looked up at the sky, his expression darkening. “It’s going to pour. You need to leave.” 

“And leave a lady out in the rain? How very gallant of you,” you said, unable to resist the jab. You weren’t above a bit of manipulation. 

He muttered something under his breath before sighing deeply. “Fine. But only until the rain stops.” He turns without another word leading you down a small path. Your footsteps light as you follow closely behind him. The rain picked up in an instant pelting you in only the short walk to the cabin. 

The cabin looked cozy enough, nothing grand but you loved it. It felt intimate and new. You fought a small smile as you overlooked the dark wood, this is where Yeonjun lived. He opened the door without a word gesturing for you to go inside. 

The cabin was warm, the fire crackling in the fireplace as you stepped inside. Yeonjun shut the door behind you, his movements tense. He didn’t speak as he grabbed a blanket and thrust it toward you. “Dry off,” he said curtly. 

You took it, sitting down in the lone chair by the fire. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. “You’re angry,” you said finally. 

“Of course I’m angry,” he said, his tone clipped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If someone finds out—” 

“I’m careful,” you interrupted. “No one followed me. Kora made sure of that.” 

“That’s not the point,” he said, pacing now. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in your world. Whatever this is—” He gestured between you. “It needs to stop.” 

“Why?” you asked, standing. “Because you’re scared?” Throwing the blanket he had given to you onto the chair. 

“I’m not scared,” he shot back. 

“Yes, you are,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re scared to feel something, scared to let someone in. But I see it, Yeonjun. You’re not as closed off as you pretend to be.” 

He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me. 

“Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.” 

“You're making this difficult.” He said looking over at you, his eyes tired. His eyes caught the dark specs beautifully. Although only a few years older than you, you could tell he loved a much longer life. Had to endure things you've never even dreamed of, it aged him. 

“Why? Because I’m here?” You were not going to let this go. 

“Because you don’t belong here,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. “You have no idea what this world is like, what it costs.” 

You hesitated before speaking. “Then tell me. Show me what it’s like.” You pleaded again. 

His laugh was bitter, hollow. “What’s the point? You’ll go back to your castle and forget all about it.” 

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “I promise.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, the fight in him faltering as he sank onto the bench across from you. The firelight danced across his face. For a moment his vulnerability painted him as a young boy, one who suffered great loss. “My family,” he began, his voice quiet, “used to live in a village not far from here. My parents, my sister, and me. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then the fever came.” You didn’t dare interrupt, your chest tightening as you watched him. “They died within weeks of each other,” he said, staring into the flames. “One by one. And I… I couldn’t save them. Couldn’t do anything.” 

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“I’ve been on my own ever since,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s better that way. No one else to lose. The fever hit many families but a lot of them survived. Mine did not. They call me cursed and…I started to believe I am.” 

You leaned forward, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “But you had something beautiful once, something most people never get—a family that loved each other. I’d give anything to have had that.” He frowned, his gaze flickering to you. 

“My parents… they care about power, appearances,” you said bitterly. “I’ve never been more than a pawn to them. I used to dream of having a family like yours, people who loved me for me. Even if I lost them, at least I’d have had it for a little while.” 

Yeonjun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You still have a chance to love,” you said softly. “To let people in again.” 

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone I love… they die. It’s like I’m cursed.” You sat across from him, your hands folded tightly in your lap to keep them from trembling. You hadn’t anticipated how deeply his words would cut not because they hurt you, but because they made you ache for him. 

“You loved them,” you said softly, breaking the silence. 

He didn’t look at you, but his jaw tightened. “Of course I did.” 

“And they loved you,” you continued. “That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

His gaze flicked to you then, sharp and guarded. “What’s your point?” 

“That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.” 

His laugh was bitter, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost everything.” 

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve never had what you had, either.” 

Your voice trembled. “I used to dream about having a family like yours. A mother who held me when I cried, a father who wasn’t so… cold. Even if it didn’t last forever, at least I would have known what it felt like to be truly loved.” You said again. Yeonjun’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as though he was seeing you for the first time. 

“That’s why I came here,” you said. “Not just to get away from them, but because you made me feel something real. For once, I wasn’t just a princess. I was… me.” 

He looked away, his fingers running along the edge of his bow. “You shouldn’t have come back. You’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.” 

“Maybe I do,” you said quietly. 

He shook his head. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen. You and I are from different worlds. There’s nothing but heartbreak waiting down this road.” 

“I’m willing to take that chance,” you said, standing and crossing the room to him. And you were telling the truth. You had never truly felt love, so even if fleeting you’d kill to feel it just once. You didn't know what the future held for the two of you but you knew you were capable of loving Yeonjun, for however long the universe would allow it. 

He looked up at you, his dark eyes conflicted. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Why not?” you challenged. “Because you’re afraid? Or because you think you’re not worth it?” 

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His fingers tensed beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. 

“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. When he opened them again, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stole yours. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” you said, leaning closer. 

Your heart pounded as you searched his face, waiting, hoping. And then, slowly, he lifted a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin. “I shouldn’t…” he murmured, but the words trailed off as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“You should,” you whispered. And then he kissed you. 

It was tentative at first, a soft, testing press of his lips against yours. But the hesitation didn’t last long. The tension that had crackled between you from the moment you met ignited, and the kiss deepened, pulling you into its heat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the connection. His other hand rested on your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle beneath the intensity of it. 

You felt everything in that kiss, his pain, his longing, his fear, and you poured your own emotions into it, trying to tell him without words that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to push you away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the crackle of the fire. 

“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. 

“Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “But don’t push me away because you’re scared.” 

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pieces of himself he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t move away. If anything, Yeonjun seemed frozen, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand where it rested against his chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, he pulled you closer. His lips found yours again, no longer tentative but fierce, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into the kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin away. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, heat building between you like the fire crackling in the fireplace. 

Every touch, every movement, felt like a revelation. The roughness of his fingers on your skin, the way he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, the quiet, almost desperate sound he made when your hands slipped up to cradle his face—it was all overwhelming and intoxicating and completely consuming. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he was trying to steady himself. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your cloak.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. 

“I think I do,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. A sense of unfamiliar excitement pooling in your belly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” He breathed out. 

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your tone soft but insistent. 

He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips again as though he couldn’t help himself. Instead of answering, he kissed you again. 

This time, it was slower, softer. It wasn’t born of desperation but something deeper, something quieter. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hands cradling you like you were something fragile. You lost yourself in it, the world outside the cabin falling away. There was only Yeonjun. The taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in the way he held you. 

When he pulled back again, his lips barely brushing against yours, he rested his forehead against yours once more. “This can’t last,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe we just let it be what it is, for however long we have.” 

His eyes opened, and the vulnerability there was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly.

“Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The kiss was more hurried, rushed and sloppy. 

“I don’t know if I can hold myself back.” He spoke with a huff. 

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Don’t hold back, I want this.” 

“Have you ever done..anything before?” The question left an embarrassing red tint to your cheeks. Of course you hadn’t. This had been your first kiss. 

“No.” Your voice a whisper as you hide your blush with your hair. 

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was firm as he gripped your hips firmly in his hand, almost like he was grounding himself. As if it was taking everything in him to not pounce on you this very moment. 

“Please.” You spoke with a newfound desperation. “I’m sure.” 

His lips attached to your neck next. It was tender and soft. The delicacy he used only quickened the speed of your already rapidly beating heart. His hands found the sleeve of your dress before slowly bringing it down your shoulder and your arm. The light from the fireplace is a catalyst to your warmth. The light illuminated the two of you like starlight. His lips moved the expanse of your neck and met your collarbone in feather-like kisses. 

“You're beautiful.” He whispered, moving your hair back. 

“Can I take this off?” Your voice was hushed with a lit of intimidation hanging in the words. You gestured to his white shirt pawing at the buttons. 

“Of course.” His smile was warm, comforting. You made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons yanking his shirt off in one fail swoop. You took your time inspecting the contours of his chest and torso. In awe of his sheer beauty. He was young, toned, and beautiful. Your fingers delicately danced around his body taking mental pictures. 

“Like what you see?” He smirks at you, a tilt to his lips you found incredibly adorable. 

“Yes.” You said simply with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Can I take this off?” His hands toy with the dress you wore. It wasn't a big puffy dress like you would wear on a normal day. It was flat and required no corset, no zipper. It simply slipped off. A surge of confidence rushed through you and you figured you'd take hold of it before it washed away. 

You pushed Yeonjun back against the plush couch. His back connected with the cushion behind him. His face lit up with an adorable surprise. “What are you-” 

“Shh” You smiled playfully. You rose from your seat now standing directly in front of him. You reached your hands to your sleeves pulling them down slowly. 

Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.” 

“Shut up.” You giggle shyly pulling the rest of the dress down until the fabric meets the floor in a pile. 

“Absolutely beautiful.” He said with an unashamed look in his eye. You stood bare in front of him now, only panties and nothing else. No bra to hold in your breasts. You had never been so exposed. You reached down, riding yourself of the last of your clothing. 

You had never been naked in front of a man before. Oddly you weren't nervous with Yeonjun, you felt content, you felt reassured. 

“Come here.” Yeonjun’s voice was rough and almost hoarse, it was incredibly sexy. 

You sat before him, completely naked but full trusting. “I’m going to prep you first okay Princess?” 

You nodded dumbly as he carefully laid you down on the sofa falling to his knees in front of you. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point and I will. Am I clear?” You nodded again, finding it hard to muster up words when he was looking at you like that. 

“Use your words sweetheart.” 

“Yes.” The one word like a green light to Yeonjun. His mouth falling to be level with your core. You watched with keen fascination as his breath fanned the most intimate part of you. His tongue licked up one strip causing a gasp to leave your lips. Your hips lifting from the couch in surprise. His growl of disapproval sent shivers down your spine as his hands firmly pressed your hips back down onto the couch. 

His mouth reattached to your slit lapping and licking at the sensitive bud. “Oh-” You whined your mouth involuntarily curling into an ‘O’ shape. 

His eyes searched for yours wildly, a desire for approval in his gaze. “How’s that feel?” He asked coming up for a breath. 

“G-good.” You stuttered out. “More..” 

“Greedy are we Princess?” he quirked a thick brow at you. 

“Mhm..” You moaned unashamed of your clear desperation. His hand lifted ghosting over your entrance, his tongue back to lapping up your juices. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” 

“W-what?” Your mind was in a daze as his thumb lazily circled your clit, his tongue still ghosting over your entrance. 

“Has this little princess ever touched herself?” His voice was rougher now, more demanding. 

“Y-yes.” You admitted shyly. “Sometimes” 

Yeonjun tsk’d slowly adding a finger into your awaiting entrance, taking it slower so as to not hurt you. 

“My god.” You whispered. 

“Dirty girl..” Yeonjun trailed off, reaching his free hand up to grab onto yours that was clutching the cushion of the couch in your hand. 

“More..” You whined, grinding yourself against Yeonjun’s hand, a desperate moan leaving your lips. 

“I think you're ready.” He pulled his finger out with ease. A hiss of pleasure leaving your lips. 

“Are you ready sweetheart?” His words were gentle as he quickly removed his pants and boxers. The sheer size of him catching you off guard and rendering you near speechless. 

“Words, princess.” His tone held authority, something that had your mind abuzz and your skin ablaze. 

“I’m ready” You panted. Yeonjun carefully crawled over you taking a second to look down at your body, his eyes traveling the expanse of you. “Beautiful.” He said for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. 

He lined his cock at your entrance running the angry red tip up and down your slit a few times, catching the pool of heat in its wake. “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded desperately waiting for when he would finally be inside of you. 

He pushed in slowly the stretch of him burning like wildfire in your body, a jolt of pain flying up your spine. 

Your gasp rang free throughout the cabin. The sound of the fire crackling in the distance serves as a comfort to you. “Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks when he was finally fully seethed inside of you, unmoving. 

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Just hurts a little.” 

“I can wait to move.” He suggested but you shook your head at the need for him to move out weighing the pain. 

“No. Please move.” 

Yeonjun nodded, pulling his hips back from slowly pushing them back in. His breath hitched in his throat a sigh of content following. “Tight.” He grunted out. 

He continued to slowly push in and out of you with tender precision. Soon you found yourself craving more, faster, harder you needed to feel him completely. 

“Faster.” You whined out. “You can go faster.” 

“Yeah?” He hissed out “Whatever your highness wants.” 

A small smile graced your lips at his playful words. His hips pushed into you fasted the sound of your skin slapping ringing in the air around you. 

“Feels so good.” You moaned. Running your hands down your body, your fingers finding your clit, making small slow circles over the nub. 

“I’m almost there.” Yeonjun panted, his breath fanning over your face. 

“Me too” You whined, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you like a freight train. 

Yeonjun continued his brutal speed, your body moving in tandem with his, taking everything he gave you. Your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge. 

“I’m coming.” You squeaked out as your orgasm hit you. It blinded you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Yeonjun followed suit, his hips rutting into you before stilling. 

The both of you stood still, saying nothing only looking at each other. A bubble of a laugh creeping up in your throat and finally leaving your lips in an eruption. 

Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he watched you laugh, him still deep inside of you. 

“What are you laughing at?” He asked with a look of amused bewilderment. 

“I don't know.” You giggled out. “I’m happy.” 

Yeonjun smiled, a small semblance of smile falling from his lips. “Me too.” 

The rain had stopped by the time you stood at the door of his cabin, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the trees. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the firelight behind him. “You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. Even after what you had just done he was still thinking of what could happen and not what was currently happening. 

You turned to face him, your heart heavy but determined. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of the night kept it from reaching his eyes. You had done irreversible things. Things that could quite frankly get him killed.  “I mean it, princess. It’s too dangerous—for both of us.” 

“And yet you kissed me,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You fucked me.” You continued. 

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“I’ve heard it before.” You smiled with mischief. 

The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face, but it faded quickly. “If you’re set on defying all reason, at least let me promise you something.” 

Your brows furrowed as you searched his face. “What?” 

“I’ll write to you,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get the letters to you. Just… so you know you’re not alone.” 

Your heart clenched at his words, the tenderness in his tone cutting through the sadness that had been building in your chest. “You’d do that?” 

“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.” 

The weight of his promise settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. His fingers closed around yours, calloused but warm, grounding you even as the moment felt like it might slip away. The thought of not knowing when you'll see him next wounded you. “I’ll wait for them,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw past the walls he had built around himself. “You’d better.” 

You smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, before tilting your head up to him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as though he was memorizing the feel of you. You poured everything into that kiss—the unspoken words, the hopes, the promises—and when it ended, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“Go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Before I change my mind.” 

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. As you turned and started down the path, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. And though your heart ached, the promise of his letters gave you a small, stubborn flicker of hope. You’d see him again, you'd make sure of it. 

The morning light streamed through the small window of Yeonjun’s cabin, catching motes of dust that swirled lazily in the air. He sat at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment spread before him. His fingers tightened around the quill, ink blotching on the page as he wrestled with the words he needed to say. How did he write to a princess? Especially one who he kissed, one he made love to. One that looked at him like he wasn't a broken man, and made impossible promises feel real? 

Yeonjun groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out how he was supposed to get this letter to her without drawing attention. The thought of a royal guard intercepting it. Of the consequences for both of them—kept him frozen in indecision. A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it under the edge of a book before standing. His hand instinctively went to the knife on his belt as he opened the door. 

There stood Kai, the paperboy, clutching his satchel and beaming up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Kai,” Yeonjun said, exhaling. “What do you want?” 

“Good morning to you too,” Kai said, undeterred. “I’ve been practicing with the stick bow I made, but it’s not the same as the real thing. You’re the best archer in the village—probably in the kingdom! Teach me.” 

“I told you before, I don’t have time for this,” Yeonjun said, stepping back and starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Kai stuck his foot in the doorway. “What if I do something for you? Like chores or hunting or—” 

Yeonjun stopped, the boy’s words sparking an idea. He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “You deliver papers to the castle, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kai said, straightening proudly. “Every morning. They don’t let me in, though. Just to the servants’ entrance.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, glancing back toward the folded letter. “If I give you something—something important—could you deliver it discreetly to the princess? Without anyone else knowing?”

Kai blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “The princess? Why would—” 

“Can you do it or not?” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone firm. 

Kai considered him for a moment, then grinned. “I can do it. But you have to promise to teach me archery.” 

“Fine,” Yeonjun said, grabbing the folded letter and handing it to Kai. “This stays in your satchel until you hand it to her.” 

Kai tucked the letter into his bag and gave Yeonjun a cheeky salute. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Yeonjun watched the boy leave, his heart pounding. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. 

Kai trudged up the winding path to the castle’s servant entrance, whistling a tune as the satchel bumped against his hip. The gray stone walls loomed above him, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Despite his usual bravado, his stomach twisted with nerves. Delivering a letter to the princess was risky business, even for a street-savvy paperboy. When he reached the small, iron-banded door tucked away behind the stables, he knocked twice, then twice more, just like the man had told him. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman in a plain gray dress peered out. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him. 

“You must be Kai,” the nursemaid said, her voice low but kind.

“That’s me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got the letter.” 

He pulled it from his satchel, holding it up like it was a royal treasure—which, in a way, it was. The nursemaid took it carefully, glancing over her shoulder before tucking it into the folds of her apron. “You’re certain no one saw you?” 

“Course not,” Kai said, puffing out his chest. “I’m good at being sneaky.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you. The princess will be grateful.” 

Kai tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. “Why’s the princess getting letters from a huntsman, anyway?” 

The nursemaid’s expression grew stern. “That’s not for you to wonder. Just keep this quiet, understand?” 

“Understood,” Kai said, holding up his hands. The nursemaid nodded, slipping back inside. The door shut with a soft thud, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. As he walked back toward the village, he couldn’t help but grin. Whatever was going on between the princess and the huntsman, it was far more exciting than delivering papers. 

The grand hall felt stifling, the air heavy with expectation. You sat at the long, polished table, your parents at either end like sentinels of your fate. The man they had brought to meet you sat across from you, his eyes scanning you like a merchant appraising goods. He was handsome in a sharp, cold way, his words polished but hollow. “This is Lord Kang Taehyun.” your father said, his voice booming with authority. “A man of great standing. He’s traveled far to meet you.” 

You forced a tight smile, your hands twisting in your lap beneath the table. “It’s a pleasure, my lord,” you said, your voice strained. 

Lord Taehyun inclined his head, his smile more a calculated gesture than genuine warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I’ve heard much of your beauty and grace, though I see now that words fail to capture the truth.” The flattery felt like acid on your skin. You glanced at your mother, hoping for some reprieve, but her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever.

“You will have much to discuss,” your father said, his tone dismissive. “Taehyun, perhaps you and the princess might take a walk in the gardens.” 

“No,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and unyielding. “What did you say?” His words felt like tiny little prickles in your skin. 

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “I said no. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to… to discuss anything.” This new found confidence surprised not only your father but you as well. The tension in the room thickened, your mother’s eyes narrowing, your father’s face darkening with anger.

“Sit down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You knew he meant business but something in you wouldn't allow for what was about to take place to happen. You were going to fight like hell. 

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You can’t make me do this.”

Your father rose to his feet, his hands slamming onto the table. “You will do as you’re told. This is not a request—it is your duty.”

“Duty?” you cried, your voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be traded away?” The words hung in the air like a slap. Your father’s expression turned thunderous, but your mother spoke first, her voice cold and clipped. “That’s enough.” 

You turned on your heel, tears spilling over as you fled the hall, their voices chasing after you. Your feet carried you through the winding corridors of the castle, past servants who quickly looked away, until you reached the sanctuary of your room. Slamming the door shut, you sank to the floor, sobbing into your hands. It felt as though the walls were closing in, every word your parents had said pressing down on your chest. 

You had only tasted a small ounce of freedom but you would do everything in your power to not lose it. The night you spent with Yeonjun was the best night of your life. For the first time in your life you felt real. You had finally felt like someone, seen you as you and not just a pawn in a nobel game. 

You picked yourself up from the floor as the tears still cascaded down your face. Throwing yourself onto your bed letting your mind think of Yeonjun and Yeonjun only. 

The night was silent when the knock came at your window. You rushed to it, your heart leaping when you saw the familiar figure of your nursemaid, Kora She slipped inside, handing you a folded piece of parchment. “It’s from him,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips. He kept his promise. He wrote to you. Your heart soared a prickling of hope bubbling in your chest. With Yeonjun, the world felt just all the more bearable. This tiny piece of paper was a saving grace in the mess that was your life.

Your hands trembled as you took the letter, the sight of his handwriting calming the storm inside you. Once the nursemaid left, you lit a candle and unfolded the parchment, your eyes drinking in the words. 

“Princess,

I hope this finds you well, though I know life in the castle is anything but kind to you. I don’t know what I can offer with my words, but know that I’m thinking of you. I can’t seem to stop. I spent all day at the woods’ edge, wondering if you’d appear again, though I know it’s foolish.

Stay safe. Write back if you can. Just knowing you’re out there—somewhere—makes the world feel less empty. 

Yeonjun.” 

You clutched the letter to your chest, his words filling the cracks in your heart left by the day’s events. Taking a deep breath, you reached for your quill and parchment sitting on your bed eager to write back. 

“Yeonjun, 

Your letter was exactly what I needed tonight. The world here feels so cold, so confining. But your words... They warmed me. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me, how much you mean to me. You call yourself foolish for waiting by the woods, but I find myself thinking about you just as often.

There are moments I wish I could escape all of this, if only to spend another night in the rain with you. You make me feel free, even when I’m trapped within these walls. I don’t know how long this will last, or what the future holds, but I promise I’ll keep writing as long as you’ll read my words.

Yours Always”

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling hands. The nursemaid would come again in the morning to deliver it, but for now, you tucked it under your pillow. As you blew out the candle and lay in the darkness, your thoughts drifted to Yeonjun. His voice, his touch, his promise. It was enough to keep the despair at bay, at least for tonight.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and despair. Your father’s booming voice echoed through the halls, issuing orders to increase security, though you didn’t know why. Guards were stationed at nearly every corridor, their cold eyes watching your every move. Even the gardens, once your brief sanctuary, felt like a cage.  

You suspected it was about control. The more you resisted their plans, the tighter they held the reins. Your father rarely spoke to you directly now, preferring to bark commands to your mother or the staff. Your mother, ever the strategist, would sit by your bedside at night, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she spoke of duty and legacy. Her words slid off you like rain on stone. But even in the midst of their suffocating demands, there was Yeonjun. 

His letters arrived like whispers of freedom, tucked beneath your pillow by your nursemaid each morning. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth that broke through the chill of the castle. You read them over and over, tracing the ink with your fingertips until the parchment softened. 

“Princess,

Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow.

I don’t know how this will end, but I promise I will keep writing to you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re the first thing in a long time that has felt real.

Yeonjun”

His words were a balm to your raw emotions, and you clung to them like a lifeline. They were your secret rebellion, a quiet refusal to let your parents steal the one thing that gave you solace. You don’t know what you would do moving forward but you knew for certain that the thought of a life without Yeonjun became more and more painful, it was something you wouldn't allow to happen. Even if it killed you. So Each night, by the flickering light of a candle, you wrote back to him. 

“Yeonjun,

Your words are the only thing keeping me sane. I feel trapped here—my parents are relentless, the guards omnipresent. Even my own footsteps feel like they’re being watched. But when I read your letters, it’s like I’m back in the woods with you, standing in the rain. For a moment, I’m free again.

I don’t know how I’ll get through this, but knowing you’re out there, thinking of me... it’s enough to keep going. I hope you’ll write to me as often as you can. Your letters are my escape.

Yours always.”

The exchange continued for days. Each morning brought a new letter, and each night you penned your reply. The routine became your lifeline, a fragile thread tying you to something brighter, something more alive. The grueling dinners with your parents, the endless stream of suitors paraded before you—none of it mattered when you knew a letter was waiting under your pillow. Yeonjun’s words reminded you of what it felt like to be seen, truly seen, and not as a piece on your father’s chessboard. You closed your eyes, letting his words settle into your heart. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.

Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure. 

Your fingers itched to write him back, to tell him how much he meant to you, how his letters were the only thing keeping you from breaking beneath the weight of your parents’ demands. But tonight, there were no words strong enough. Instead, you held his letter close and let the quiet night envelop you. For now, his letters were enough. And soon, you would find a way to see him again. 

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood by the edge of the clearing, watching Kai fumble with the bowstring. The boy’s arms trembled under the tension, his grip clumsy as he tried to draw back the arrow. "Not like that," Yeonjun said, stepping forward. He placed a steadying hand on Kai’s shoulder and adjusted his stance, forcing the boy to straighten his back. "You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you. Relax." 

Kai exhaled sharply, his face scrunched in concentration. "This is harder than it looks." His blonde hair blowing in the wind that bristled through the clearing they occupied. 

He watched Kai try again. The boy managed to draw the string back this time, though it wobbled precariously before he loosed the arrow. It sailed a pathetic few feet before flying into the dirt. Kai groaned, slumping in frustration. "I’m never going to get this." 

"You will," Yeonjun said, his voice firmer now. "But not if you give up. Again." The boy looked at him, his brown eyes uncertain, but he nodded. He retrieved the arrow and tried again. And again. And again. 

The days that followed were filled with more of the same. Each morning, Kai would show up at Yeonjun’s door with that wide, determined grin, a bow slung over his back and a bundle of arrows that were too big for his quiver. Yeonjun taught him everything—how to adjust his grip, how to judge the wind, how to stay calm and focused even when the target seemed impossible. At first, Kai was frustratingly bad. His arrows veered wildly off course, his fingers blistered from the bowstring, and his skinny frame seemed ill-suited for the demands of archery. But the boy never gave up. Each time Yeonjun corrected him, Kai listened intently, his determination outmatching his skill. 

One morning, as they rested under a tree after hours of practice, Kai finally opened up. Completely unprovoked. There must have been a lot of things weighing on the boy's mind. "My family’s poor," he said, staring down at the bow in his lap. "My father makes paintings to sell, and my mother does her best, but it’s not enough. My older sister works at the tailor’s, and my little sister’s too young to help. I’m supposed to be the big brother of the house now, The one to look to when Father is at work, but..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. Yeonjun didn’t respond right away, letting the boy gather his thoughts.

"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." Yeonjun studied the boy for a long moment. He saw the desperation in Kai’s eyes, the same desperation that had once driven him to the woods all those years ago. He understood too well the weight of carrying a family’s survival on your shoulders, the feeling of always falling short.

"You’re not useless," Yeonjun said finally. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of warmth in it. "You’re trying. That’s more than most people would do." Kai looked up at him, surprised. 

"And you’re getting better," Yeonjun added, his lips quirking into a small, rare smile. "You actually hit the target today. Granted, it was the edge, but it counts." Kai laughed, a sound that was bright and unguarded. For a moment, Yeonjun felt something he hadn’t in years—a faint, flickering sense of hope. He had seen a lot of himself in kai. He too was seventeen trying to make ends meet while also growing and learning. He reminded himself to give the boy some reprieve, he was doing what most people in this village were doing. Trying to make it. 

It was a week later when Yeonjun made the decision. They had finished another grueling day of practice, and Kai was leaning against a tree, his face flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. He had hit the bullseye twice that morning, a feat that had him grinning ear to ear. Yeonjun walked over to his small cabin and retrieved the bow that hung on the wall. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its gold accents catching the light like fire. He had carved it himself years ago, imbuing every stroke with a sense of purpose and pride. It was his favorite bow, his most prized possession. 

He walked back to Kai, who was packing up his own battered bow. Without a word, Yeonjun held out the golden bow to him. It was a present that he had cherished from his father. He had given it to him early in his life when Yeonjun took interest in archery, and now he was giving it to Kai. 

Kai stared at it, his eyes wide. "Is that...?" 

"It’s yours," Yeonjun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knew he was deserving, Kai was going to grow up to be an amazing huntsman, maybe even better then Yeonjun. Yeonjun was sure of it. 

The boy gaped at him, his hands hovering uncertainly over the bow. "But... this is your favorite. I can’t—" 

"You can," Yeonjun interrupted. "And you will. You’ve earned it." 

Kai’s hands trembled as he took the bow, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate carvings. "I don’t know what to say," he whispered. 

"Say you’ll keep practicing," Yeonjun said, his voice softer now. "Say you’ll use it to help your family. That’s all I want." 

Kai nodded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I will. I promise." 

“Good.” Yeonjun smiled a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Now head home it's getting late.” 

The castle had become unbearable. Every corridor felt like a gauntlet, every shadow a trap. Guards patrolled relentlessly, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of oppression. Your father’s anger was a constant storm, and your mother’s calculated words were no less cutting. Everyday a battle for your freedom. Your father would not budge, his demands becoming more cold and less patient. The looming specter of the marriage broke you. The man they had chosen—a stranger from across the sea—was everything you feared. Another piece in their endless political game. You didn’t want to be a pawn, but they weren’t giving you a choice. That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.

You slipped into the gown you had worn earlier, pulling your dark cloak tightly around you. With a deep breath, you tiptoed past the guards stationed outside your chamber. The halls seemed endless, the flicker of torches casting long, wavering shadows. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every glance from a passing servant a threat. But somehow, you made it. Past the gates, past the patrols, and into the forest that had become your sanctuary. 

The knock on his door was hesitant at first, your courage wavering as you stood in the cool night air. The woods were quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You wondered if he would even answer, if he was still awake. But then the door creaked open, and there he was. 

Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw you, calling your name in confusion. You were the last person he expected to see tonight. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of the past days pressed down on you, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks. 

His brows knit together, and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. "What’s wrong?" You stepped inside, the warmth of his cabin wrapping around you like a blanket. It smelled of wood and the faint, earthy scent of leather. He closed the door behind you, his gaze never leaving your face. 

"They’re marrying me off," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t want." 

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "When?"

"I don’t know," you whispered, sinking onto the edge of the small cot in the corner. "Soon. My father is furious. My mother says it’s for the good of the kingdom. But I..." You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. The weight of what your parents were doing finally settled in. A moment later, you felt the bed shift as he sat beside you. His presence was solid, grounding, and when his hand hesitantly rested on your back, it was as if a dam broke inside you.

"I can’t do it," you said, your voice muffled. "I can’t live like this. I don’t want to be a pawn in their games. I just... I just want to be free." 

Yeonjun was silent for a long moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will." 

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face meeting his determined gaze. "How can you say that? You don’t even know what they’re capable of." 

"I don’t have to know," he said, his tone firm. "I know you. And I know you’re stronger than you think." 

His words were like a spark in the darkness, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out. You searched his face, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him—solid, unyielding, and somehow, impossibly, yours. A beautiful man, who had cared for you. Who has seen more of you than anyone before. A man you were falling for, and hard. Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. 

"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it. 

His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours. 

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The kiss was sweet but heated like you were catching up on lost time. You had missed his touch only feeling the ghost of him in his letters. 

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a language only the two of you could understand. "You should go back," he said eventually, though his arms didn’t loosen their hold.

"I don’t want to," you whispered. 

His lips brushed your temple in the lightest of touches. "I’ll find a way to see you again. I promise."

And somehow, you believed him. There was no way you’d be marrying a man you didn't love, not a single chance. 

The castle was quiet when you slipped back through the hidden servant’s entrance. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the evening still clinging to you like a second skin. The cool stone walls of the passage pressed in, amplifying the sound of your footsteps.When you turned the corner into your room, your nursemaid, Kora, was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were set in a thin line, but her eyes betrayed her worry more than her anger ever could. 

"You’re lucky the patrols didn’t catch you," she said, her voice low but sharp. You had seen her angry before and this was not one of those times, she looked more worried than anything and strangely it made you feel warm. 

You closed the door softly behind you and let out a shaky breath. "I needed to go."

Her expression softened at the sound of your voice, her stern demeanor melting into concern. "Child, what are you doing to yourself?" You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you pulled off your cloak and sank onto the edge of your bed, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly. The weight of her gaze made it impossible to avoid the question, so you finally looked up. 

"I love him," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Your nursemaid’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh as she sat beside you. She reached for your hand, her grip warm and steady. "You’ve always had such a stubborn heart," she said, a faint smile playing at her lips. 

"I can’t help it," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want the titles, the suitors, the ballrooms. I just want... I just want to be free. With him." Tears welled in your eyes again, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled over. "I can’t do this, not without him. I want to run away, leave it all behind."

Your nursemaid pulled you into her arms, holding you close as your tears soaked into her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and the faint, comforting scent of home. "I understand," she murmured, her voice gentle. "But you must be careful, my love. The world isn’t kind to people like us who dream beyond our station." You had never really felt a mother’s love before, not in the way you had longed for. The closest you ever gotten was with Kora. Not only was she your nursemaid but your mother figure. She was nurturing, caring, compassionate like a mother should be. But she was also stern and would tell you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to hear it. You had loved her like a mother. 

You pulled back slightly, your face still damp with tears. "You’ve always been there for me," you said, your voice trembling. "When my own mother didn’t care—when she looked at me like I was just another duty to fulfill—you loved me. You raised me. You’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known." 

Her own eyes glistened now, and she cupped your face in her hands. "You’ve been my joy since the day you were born. I wanted to shield you from all of this. If I could give you the freedom you want, I would. You deserve to be happy, my dear. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you." The words had felt like another crack in the crippling foundation of your heart. Soon you would overflow then explode with the constant raging emotions inside of you and you were sure when that happened Kora would be right there, helping you every step of the way no matter what decision you decided to make. Admitting to her out loud that you had loved Yeonjun changed something inside of you. 

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you said, your voice cracking. 

She kissed your forehead, her touch light and filled with affection. "You’ll always have me. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you love him as much as you say, don’t let that love make you reckless. It’s a dangerous world, and I won’t see you hurt."

You nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. "I promise." 

The two of you sat there for a long while, her arms wrapped around you like a shield against the storm outside. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of peace. Moments like this had made you mourn a relationship you never had with your own mother. 

"I love you," you whispered. 

"And I love you," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "More than you’ll ever know." 

​​You fell asleep that night with her words echoing in your mind, the warmth of her embrace still lingering into the morning when you awoke again and she was gone, a blanket thrown over your body like a last single trace of her. 

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood in the clearing behind his cabin, his bow slung across his back. Kai was already there, eagerly stringing the bow Yeonjun had given him. His tongue poked out in concentration, and the boy’s scrawny arms strained slightly as he drew it back. "Focus on your breath," Yeonjun instructed, leaning against a tree. "Pull smoothly, don’t yank it. Let the bow do the work."

Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist. 

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad. You might not be completely hopeless after all." 

Kai grinned, his face lighting up with pride. It was very.. Boyish almost. It reminded Yeonjun so much of who he used to be. He reached for another arrow, his excitement infectious. As he prepared to shoot again, he glanced over at Yeonjun. "You know, my parents were really proud of me last night."

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?"

"I caught my first rabbit," Kai said, his voice swelling with pride. "With this bow. My parents sold it at the market, and we made enough money to buy bread and meat for the week. My sisters were so happy. My mom even cried." 

Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, a strange mix of pride and longing settling there. "Good work, Kai. You earned that." He had the most perfect prodigy of himself. Someone he knew had the potential to be a great hunter and an even better archer than Yeonjun had ever been. 

Kai beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It’s because you taught me. If it weren’t for you—"

"Stop," Yeonjun interrupted, though his tone was gentle. "You put in the effort. I just showed you how." 

Kai hesitated, then said softly, "I just wanted to say thank you. For the bow, for the lessons... for everything." Looking down at the ground to hide his reddened cheeks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet almost bashfully. 

Yeonjun looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation." He said with a laugh. The joke hanging in the air between the two of them. 

Kai laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious. "You’re not as mean as everyone says, you know. You’re actually... really kind."

Yeonjun snorted. "Don’t spread that around. I’ve worked hard to keep people away, and I’d rather not ruin a good thing."

"But why?" Kai asked, tilting his head. "You’re not scary. You’re..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. 

"Cursed?" Yeonjun offered dryly.

Kai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe." Yeonjun smiled at his Joke, something he found himself doing a lot more lately. 

His turned serious sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Scrawny, stubborn, trying too hard to prove something to the world." 

Kai titled his head “That wasn't too long ago, you're not that much older than me you know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Yeonjun sighed out, “You Still remind me of my younger self. I’m a lot more grown up than my age suggests. I’ve had to grow up early.” 

Kai’s eyes widened. "Really?" His innocence warmed Yeonjun’s heart. 

"Yeah," Yeonjun said, a distant look in his eyes. "Only difference is, you’ve got a family who loves you. Don’t take that for granted, Kai. Not everyone’s that lucky."

Kai frowned, sensing the weight behind Yeonjun’s words. "What about your family?"

Yeonjun hesitated, then shook his head. "Not something you need to worry about, kid. Let’s just say... it didn’t turn out the way I wanted."

“I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.” 

“I appreciate that.” Yeonjun’s voice was low, soft. Like he was savoring the moment but not wanting to look vulnerable. “You’re a good kid, Kai. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them." 

Kai grinned, his spirit returning as he straightened his bow. Yeonjun reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. "Here," he said, handing it to Kai. "Same deal as last time. Get this to the nursemaid, and make sure it reaches her. No one else." 

Kai took the letter with a solemn nod, tucking it carefully into his satchel. "I won’t mess up. You can count on me."

"I know I can," Yeonjun said softly. "You’re tougher than you look."

Kai flashed a determined smile and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at Yeonjun. "You know," Kai said, his voice tentative, "you’re kind of like the big brother I always wanted." 

Yeonjun froze, the words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "And you’re like the little brother I never asked for." Kai laughed, waving as he disappeared into the woods. Yeonjun watched him go, a strange warmth settling in his chest. 

The wind howled outside Yeonjun’s cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as he sat at his small, worn table. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ran his fingers over the letter he’d received from Kai earlier, the princess’s words already memorized but still giving him solace. He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else. 

He opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. Instead, an envelope lay on the ground, the seal glinting faintly in the moonlight. Yeonjun bent down to pick it up, his pulse quickening.

He stepped back inside, closing the door behind him as he examined the envelope. The weight of it felt different from her usual letters. The paper was finer, the edges gilded with gold. For a moment, he thought Kai had brought it late, maybe as part of some grand gesture. But when he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his stomach dropped. it wasn’t her handwriting. The words danced mockingly across the page, each one sinking like a stone in his chest. 

“You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of  The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.” 

His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. He read it again, hoping he’d misunderstood, but the meaning was clear. 

Her marriage announcement. 

The room felt suddenly stifling, the walls closing in as his heart pounded against his ribs. He stared at the invitation, anger and confusion warring within him. She hadn’t mentioned this in her letters. Not once. He knew they were trying to force her into a marriage but not that they were going through with one. 

"Why didn’t she tell me?" he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet cabin. 

Yeonjun paced the room, the invitation clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct screamed at him to stay away, to keep his head down and let this royal mess unfold without him. But the thought of her standing in that grand ballroom, her eyes filled with sorrow, surrounded by strangers, was unbearable. He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of her tear-streaked face from the night she’d come to his door haunted him. The way she’d clung to him, her voice trembling as she confessed her fears. 

"I have to see her," he said aloud, the resolve hardening in his chest. His eyes fell back to the invitation. A masquerade. If there was ever a way for him to slip into the palace unnoticed, this was it. 

But what then? What could he possibly say or do to change the course of her life? With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun placed the crumpled invitation on the table and leaned back in his chair. The fire crackled softly, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest. Tomorrow, he would decide what to do. But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was. 

The night of the ball had finally arrived. Yeonjun sat in the quiet of his cabin, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. His packed bundle rested on the table ​. Everything felt heavier tonight—the air, his thoughts, the weight of what he was about to do. He’d spent the day going over his plan, but now, as the moment drew closer, his mind turned to the boy who’d become a surprising presence in his life: Kai. He’d spent the day going over his plan, trying to get his affairs in order. Earlier, he’d gone to look for Kai. The boy was usually eager, always hovering around his cabin or running errands in the village. But today, Yeonjun had called for him several times, even gone to the square to see if he was there, but there’d been no sign of him. 

“Probably busy with his family,” Yeonjun muttered to himself, trying to shake off the unease that crept in. He thought of Kai’s bright grin the last time they’d spoken, the pride in his voice as he told Yeonjun about finally catching his first game. The memory pulled at his heart. He’d wanted to talk to the boy, to tell him everything, to hand over the cabin, the bow, and all the tools of his trade. But with no time to waste and no sign of Kai, Yeonjun had to make peace with leaving it all behind without explanation. 

"I’ll leave it all to him," Yeonjun murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "The cabin, the bow, everything." It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And Kai deserved a chance—a real chance—to make something of himself. He thought back to the day he’d handed Kai the golden bow, the way the boy’s eyes had widened with reverence. That same boy had caught his first animal just days ago and had been beaming with pride when he told Yeonjun about his family’s gratitude. 

“They’ll need this more than I will,” Yeonjun muttered. “Kai will understand.” He sat at the small table, a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal in hand. The words didn’t come easily, each one feeling like a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say. But by the time the fire had burned down to its last embers, the note was finished, folded neatly and left on the table. Yeonjun stood, shouldering his pack. His gaze swept the small cabin, taking in the worn wood, the faint scent of smoke, the memories etched into every corner. 

"This is the right thing," he said softly, though the ache in his chest made him doubt. As he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin, and the quiet of the woods enveloped him. He turned once to look back at the cabin, the soft glow from the window casting a faint light into the night. “Kai will be fine,” he whispered, as if convincing himself. “He’s stronger than he thinks.” And with that, Yeonjun made his way toward the palace. The plan was set, and his resolve was firm. Tonight, he would find her, and together they would leave this world behind.

The masquerade ball was in full swing, a sea of gilded masks, shimmering gowns, and laughter that echoed through the grand halls of the castle. Yeonjun, hidden in plain sight among the servants, carried a tray of fine goblets filled with wine. The facade of calm he wore barely concealed the storm brewing inside him. He’d caught sight of her several times already, dressed in a gown of deep emerald green that hugged her frame and glimmered under the chandeliers. The mask she wore couldn’t hide her identity from him, not when her pink hair peeked through in soft waves. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed his attention—it was the man beside her. 

Kang Taehyun. 

The one she was supposed to marry. 

Yeonjun clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the tray. The man was broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of entitlement that grated on Yeonjun’s nerves. He stayed close to her, far too close, speaking in a low voice that made her frown, though she masked it quickly for the sake of appearances. It made Yeonjun’s blood boil. 

This was why he was here, why he’d come despite the risks. He couldn’t stand idly by while they paraded her around as if she were a prize to be won. Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun kept his head low, blending in with the other servants. He waited for the right moment—when her parents’ eyes were elsewhere, when the suitor was distracted by a gaggle of nobles seeking his attention. Pathetic. And he thought he was worthy of her? 

When it came, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. He set his tray down and approached her from the side, careful not to draw attention. As he passed, his fingers brushed hers ever so lightly, and he slipped a small folded note into her hand. She flinched at the touch but quickly covered her reaction, slipping the note into the folds of her gown without looking. Yeonjun didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He melted back into the crowd, his heart pounding.

The note in your hand felt heavier than it should, the words scrawled in familiar handwriting still burning in your mind. "The garden. Now." 

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you scanned the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and elegant guests seemed to blur together, a hazy backdrop to the storm of emotions churning inside you. You’d recognized him instantly, despite the servant’s uniform and the simple black mask concealing part of his face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? You spotted Taehyun across the room, deep in conversation with your father, his smooth laugh carrying over the hum of the crowd. Your mother stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the ball for potential allies, rivals, and threats. The guards stationed at the doors kept their watchful gazes moving, their vigilance a constant reminder of your gilded cage.

Slipping the note into the folds of your gown, you waited for the right moment. When your mother turned to speak with a duchess, and your suitor became engrossed in a conversation about trade routes, you slipped quietly toward the side door leading to the garden. The cool night air hit your skin like a balm, the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom fading with each step. You moved quickly, your gown brushing against the gravel path as you made your way through the moonlit garden. And then you saw him. 

Yeonjun stood near a stone bench, his figure half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and even in the dim light, you saw the tension in his expression melt into something softer. "You’re here," he said, his voice low and rough. 

"You told me to come," you replied, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? If anyone sees us—" 

"I don’t care," he interrupted, stepping toward you, his eyes blazing. "I couldn’t stand watching you with him." 

You froze, his words hitting you like a jolt. "Yeonjun, you can’t just—" You couldn't risk someone seeing you. No matter how badly you just wanted to run into his arms and never let go, this could turn dangerous and fast. 

"I had to," he cut in, his voice fierce. "You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? That’s what this whole masquerade is for. To announce it to the world." 

His words stung because they were true, but you didn’t have a choice. "It’s not what I want," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "But I don’t get to decide." 

"There’s always a choice," he said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. "You don’t have to do this. We can leave tonight—just say the word, and we’ll be gone." You stared at him, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. His intensity, his recklessness—it should have frightened you, but instead, it made you ache. Leaving was all you could ever think about. Leaving the prison you grew up in finally with the man you loved would be everything you had dreamed of. 

"Leave?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "And go where? They’d find us. They always do." 

"Let them," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me." 

His words broke something inside you, the carefully constructed walls you’d built to endure this life. You looked up at him, tears stinging your eyes. "Yeonjun, this is madness." And it was, but word by word he was convincing you. 

"Maybe it is," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "But I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone." 

The night seemed to still, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Slowly, you reached up and removed your mask, the cool air brushing against your tear-streaked cheeks. "I don’t want to lose you either," you whispered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. He closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands cradling your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and frustration pouring into it. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you upright. 

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "What do we do now?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope. 

“We go.” he said, his voice steady and sure. "Together." 

“Now?” You asked, your voice unsteady and unsure. 

“We have to,” he nodded, his tone urgent, almost frantic. His hand was firm around yours as he began to lead you deeper into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the glittering lights of the ball. “It’s now or never, Princess.” You hesitated at his words, glancing back toward the castle, its grand silhouette looming like a watchful predator. But the pull of his hand—and the fierce determination in his eyes—spurred you forward. The garden paths twisted and turned, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your hurried steps the only sound in the quiet night. The cool air bit at your cheeks, and your gown tangled around your legs, but you didn’t stop. He didn’t stop. 

“We’ll make it,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself, half to you. “Once we’re past the outer gates, they won’t be able to follow us. Not tonight.” Your heart thundered in your chest, not just from the exertion but from the enormity of what you were doing. Running. Escaping. Leaving everything behind. Ahead, the garden’s stone archway came into view, the dense forest beyond it a promise of freedom. But as you reached it, something sharp and cold slithered down your spine—a sense of foreboding you couldn’t shake. 

“Yeonjun, wait,” you whispered, pulling on his hand. 

“What is it?” he asked, glancing back at you, his brow furrowed. 

Before you could answer, there was a faint rustling behind you. Then, a muffled cry—a sound so brief and so quiet you weren’t sure you’d heard it at all. 

A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun. The last thing before going dark was Yeonjun’s slumped body against the wall and the face of your father looming over the balcony…grinning. 

Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered open, and the world around him spun in dizzying circles. The pounding in his head was the first thing he felt—a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to come from deep within his skull. He was lying on cold stone, his body twisted in uncomfortable angles, the rough texture of the floor scraping against his skin. His wrists were shackled behind him, and he could feel the weight of the iron biting into his flesh, a constant reminder of his captivity. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew, and the faint dripping of water echoed in the darkness.

"Awake at last," a gruff voice sneered from somewhere above him.

Yeonjun tried to lift his head, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his skull, making his vision blur. He blinked, trying to focus, and found himself staring up at two guards, their faces shadowed by the dim light of a single torch mounted on the stone wall. "Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry and cracked. 

"The king’s dungeon," one of the guards answered, stepping forward with an air of superiority. "You should feel honored. Not many get to see it." Yeonjun tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath as the pain radiated through his body. His fingers curled around the cold stone beneath him, grounding himself as he tried to regain control. 

“Why were you sneaking around with the princess?” the second guard asked, his voice low and threatening. “What were you planning?” 

Yeonjun didn’t answer. His lips were sealed, his mind racing. He wasn’t going to give them anything. The first guard knelt down, bringing his face close to Yeonjun’s. “Don’t play dumb with us,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “We know about the little messages you sent. Through that boy.” 

Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced. Kai. They had taken him. His body ran cold, a shiver shooting up his spine. “What did you do to him?” Yeonjun demanded, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

The first guard chuckled darkly, pulling something from behind his back and tossing it onto the floor in front of Yeonjun. It clattered against the stone with a sickening sound, and Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.

A bloodstained arrow. 

The arrow that had once been his, now soaked in the blood of the one person who had truly believed in him. A boy, not much younger than him but so full of life. Only wishing to make his family proud. Dead..because of him. 

"Recognize this?" the guard taunted, his grin widening. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.” 

Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat, his vision swimming as the truth hit him like a blow to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No. no. no. Kai. 

“No,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. Almost like a plea to any god that would hear him. Any god with mercy. 

“Oh, yes,” the second guard said, leaning in with a malicious smile. “And the old woman? The nursemaid? She put up quite the fight. But don’t worry. She didn’t last long either.” The words sliced through Yeonjun like a blade, and for a moment, everything in him went cold. 

"You bastards!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury as he surged forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding him in place. He rattled them with all his strength, the metal digging into his wrists, but he couldn’t escape. The guards laughed at his struggles, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon. 

“You brought this on yourself,” one of them said, standing to leave. “All of this—on you. On them.” The sound of their boots faded as they retreated down the hallway, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Yeonjun was left in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. His body trembled as he slowly sank back onto the cold floor, the bloody arrow still lying in front of him—a symbol of everything he had lost.

Kai. Kai was dead. They had taken him, tortured him, dumped him god knows where. His family, oh god his family. Yeonjun couldn't take it. The curse, he knew it was real and for the first time since the death of his family he had felt it tenfold, piercing him like his very own arrows. They were the archer and himself the prey, left in agony to be eaten by the wolves of the kingdom. How dare they?

Kai was innocent. He was pure. He was good. All things Yeonjun was not. And Kora, Kora had only had nothing but love for the princess. She nurtured her and raised her. She did more than the queen could ever do, gone. Because of him. He closed his eyes, the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest ached with the unbearable loss, and for the first time in years, tears welled up in his eyes. But there was no one left to comfort him. 

A sharp kick to Yeonjun’s stomach jolted him awake, the breath ripped from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He doubled over instinctively, coughing and gasping for air, but the guards were relentless. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. His legs felt weak beneath him, his head pounding from the lingering ache of his earlier beating.“Get moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving him forward. 

Yeonjun stumbled, the chains on his wrists clinking with every step as they led him out of the dim dungeon. The harsh light of the corridor burned his eyes, but he kept his head down, biting back the groan of pain that threatened to escape. As they marched him up a winding staircase, the familiar sounds of the grand hall grew louder—the murmurs of people, the echo of heavy boots on marble, the crackling of torches. Yeonjun’s heart sank. He didn’t have to guess where they were taking him.When they shoved him into the throne room, the sight that met him was worse than anything he could have imagined. 

The king sat on his golden throne, his expression smug and triumphant. The queen was beside him, her cold gaze fixed on Yeonjun as if he were nothing more than filth beneath her feet. And there, standing just to the side, was the princess. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen as though she’d been crying for hours. The moment she saw him, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. 

“Ah, the infamous hunter,” The king said, his booming voice dripping with mockery. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a... lowly creature to have the nerve to court my daughter.” Yeonjun said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the marble floor. 

The king rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, savoring every moment of Yeonjun’s humiliation. “What? Nothing to say? No impassioned defense of your love? No heroic declaration of your intentions?” Still, Yeonjun remained silent. 

The king laughed, a cold and hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “You see, princess?” he said, turning to his daughter. “This is the man you chose. A coward who can’t even speak for himself.” 

“Stop this!” the princess cried, stepping forward. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she pleaded. “Please, father, stop this! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“Silence!” the queen snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “You will not disgrace this family further by defending him.” 

“But-” 

“I said, silence!” The king roared, and the princess flinched, her shoulders trembling as she bit back a sob. 

The king turned back to Yeonjun, his smirk returning. “Your little messenger is dead, you know,” he said, his tone almost casual. “And the nursemaid. Both gone, thanks to you. All because you thought you could play hero.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. His heart twisting in his chest. 

The king gestured to one of the guards, who held up the bloodstained arrow as a grim trophy. “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.” Yeonjun’s chest heaved, rage and sorrow clawing at his insides, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.

The king’s smirk deepened. “No clever retort? No fiery protest? Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.” 

“No!” The princess’s scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. She ran forward, throwing herself in front of Yeonjun. “You can’t do this! Please, father, I beg you!”

The queen rose from her throne, her expression cold. “Move aside, child. This is what must be done.” 

“No! I won’t let you!” She turned to Yeonjun, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is all my fault.” 

“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed, and the guards seized the princess, pulling her away from Yeonjun. She struggled against them, her sobs echoing through the hall as they dragged her back toward the throne.

Yeonjun stood tall, his eyes meeting the king’s without a trace of fear. If this was how it ended, so be it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. But as the princess’s cries filled the room, a new thought burned in his mind. The memory of Kai, bright eyed and cheery. And everything he had taken from the both of them. She was apologizing but she was not the one at fault. He was. 

Yeonjun sat slumped against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw from the iron chains and his body aching from days of neglect and torment. His head hung low, the heavy silence of the dungeon pressing against him like a weight. Every sound—the drip of water, the faint scuttle of a rat—seemed magnified in the stillness. Sleep had come and gone in fleeting, restless bouts, and this time was no different. A muffled commotion echoed from somewhere outside the cell. At first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind, the dungeon’s oppressive quiet playing games with his senses. 

But then, there was a distinct clatter—a guard’s voice shouting, followed by a heavy thud. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused. He straightened as best he could, his pulse quickening. Footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, barely registering the soft sound of keys jangling. The door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside, cloaked in the faint torchlight spilling from the corridor. 

“Yeonjun.” a hushed, urgent voice whispered. 

His breath caught. It was her. 

“Princess?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse.

She was at his side in an instant, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the lock on his chains. Her face, framed by the faint flicker of the torchlight, was a mix of desperation and determination. “What are you—how—” he began, but she silenced him with a sharp look. 

“No time for questions,” she said, her voice low but steady. “We need to get out of here. Now.” 

The chains around his wrists fell away with a loud clink, and she moved to the shackles on his ankles. “How did you even get down here?” he asked, still stunned as he rubbed at his sore wrists. 

She glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “My nursemaid taught me more than just calligraphy and how to curtsy,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Turns out, lock-picking and sneaking around are also valuable skills for a proper princess.” 

Yeonjun blinked at her, equal parts impressed and incredulous. “Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.”

The smirk faltered, her eyes darkening with pain. “She taught me everything I needed to survive. And now we’re going to survive this. Together.” 

The last shackle came loose, and Yeonjun rose to his feet, his legs shaky but functional. She handed him a small dagger she’d tucked into her belt. “Where did you even get this?” he asked, gripping it as though it were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Confiscated it off a guard,” she said matter-of-factly, peering into the hallway. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, you know.” 

He couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

“You’d better not,” she shot back, her gaze darting around the corridor. “Now, let’s go before anyone notices.” The two of them crept through the winding passages of the dungeon, their movements swift but careful. The princess led the way, her steps light and purposeful, and Yeonjun followed close behind, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every distant sound a prelude to discovery. But somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping past guards and evading detection at every turn. 

As they ascended a final set of stairs, the faint light of the moon filtered through a nearby window, illuminating their path. Yeonjun paused for a moment, glancing at the princess. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You could’ve stayed safe, let them—” 

“Let them kill you?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Do you think I could’ve lived with myself, knowing I left you here to die? After everything—after Kai, after Kora?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “You don’t get to question this. I made my choice. And I choose you.” Her words rendered him momentarily speechless, and all he could do was nod, his throat tight with unspoken emotion. 

“Now come on,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him forward. “We’re almost free.” The night air hit them like a cool balm as they slipped out through a side gate. The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness. 

The forest was eerily quiet as they approached the cabin, their breaths clouding in the cool night air. Yeonjun slowed as the familiar structure came into view, his steps growing heavier with every inch closer. The small home that had once been his sanctuary now felt hollow, haunted by what had been lost. The princess stayed close, her gaze shifting between him and the cabin, sensing the weight he carried. 

Inside, the room was as he had left it—simple and sparse, with few possessions to speak of. Yeonjun moved with purpose, pulling the golden bow from where it hung on the wall. He ran his fingers over its polished surface, the faint grooves where his hands had gripped it countless times. It had been his most prized possession, a symbol of his skill and survival. Now, it felt like a monument to the boy he’d lost.

“We’ll bury it here,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. “It belongs with him.” 

The princess nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll help.” 

They stepped outside into the moonlit clearing, the ground soft from the recent rains. Yeonjun worked in silence, digging a small grave beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the clearing. The princess stayed by his side, her hands brushing against his to offer support when she could. When the hole was deep enough, Yeonjun carefully laid the bow inside, his movements deliberate and reverent. He placed a folded letter atop it—a message he had written to Kai’s family, explaining everything. His voice broke as he murmured, “I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.” 

The princess touched his arm, her fingers light but grounding. “He knew you cared for him. You gave him hope.” 

Yeonjun swallowed hard, nodding as he covered the bow and letter with soil, patting the earth down until the grave was complete. The princess knelt beside him, placing a small wildflower she had plucked from the forest nearby atop the fresh dirt. Together, they bowed their heads in silence, a quiet tribute to a boy whose life had been far too brief. 

Inside the cabin, Yeonjun sat at the worn table, scribbling out one final letter. His handwriting was rough, but the words were heartfelt.

“To the family of HueningKai,

I write this with a heavy heart. Your son was brave, determined, and far too kind for this world. He reminded me of the best parts of myself, and I hope you know he made a difference, even in the short time he was with us.

I leave everything I own to you: my cabin, my tools, and whatever small coin I’ve managed to earn. May it ease your burdens and honor the boy who fought so hard for his family.

Kai deserved better, and I will carry his memory with me for the rest of my days. 

Yeonjun.” 

He sealed the letter, pressing his thumb to it as though it were a seal, and placed it on the table where the family could find it. The princess stood nearby, her eyes glassy as she watched him. “You’re doing the right thing.” 

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but softening. “I hope so.” 

With that, they gathered the few supplies they needed—food, water, and some tools for their journey. Yeonjun paused in the doorway, casting one last look around the cabin that had been his home for so many years. “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.” 

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.” 

They stepped out into the night, the forest stretching out before them, vast and unknowable. The princess glanced back once, her heart heavy with the weight of what they left behind, but she didn’t falter. They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.

taglist. @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar

[hoonieyun]

that's what im here for

pairing: park jongseong x reader genre: fluff!!! warnings: i dont think there is any?? lmk if i miss something though 18+

synopsis: yn is sick and her boyfriend, jay, takes care of her!

wc: 558

hoonieyun notes: im sick asf rn and my boyfriend has been so sweet for taking care of me and i just had to write a drabble about it LOL anyways i hope everyone is well & are in good health!!

your night had been restless. your nose was clogged, congested, you had a migraine, and it didn’t help that you were also overheating and nothing was able to cool you down. you barely slept the night before and right now you wished you could sleep but you’re just staring blankly at the wall of your boyfriend’s bedroom, mouth open so you could breathe and the soft humming sound of the humidifier that was running in the corner of his room was filling the silence of the room. 

you blinked a few times with a sniffle as you heard the bedroom door slightly creak as it opened. “babe? you awake?” jay says, walking over to where you’re laying on his bed and crouching down in front of you. you groaned and nodded as you locked eyes. although you told him plenty of times that he shouldn’t be in such close proximity to you; he refused and continued to do his best to nurse you back to full health. 

“okay, come on you need to take your medicine again.” he informs you and you sluggishly sit up in the bed, groaning at the idea of having to take the bitter medicine. jay hands you the small cup with the vibrant orange liquid and you down it in one go, your face contorting slightly into a displeased expression when the bitter taste goes down your throat. jay offers you a glass of water and lemon and you take it instantly, wanting to wash away the bitter taste. “thank you, babe.” you say and jay helps you settle back comfortably in his bed. 

“you’re so cute.” he says with a soft chuckle and an adoring smile. 

“cute?” you ask and he just nods with the same smile. 

“babe, im open mouth breathing, coughing and sneezing like a 70 year old dad, and i sound like i have a tuba stuck in my throat… and you think im cute?” you say, surprised at his words because in all honesty; you were the furthest from cute. even your own mom wouldn’t call you cute at this state. 

“of course, you’re cute. you’re always cute, ok?” he says, patting your head gently as you pout at him. how did you get so lucky to have such a sweet boyfriend?

you and jay have known each other for upwards of a year but after months of dates he finally asked you to be his girlfriend and although it’s been less than a month since you were official, he’s been nothing but great and an even better boyfriend than he was when you two weren’t official yet. 

“thank you for taking care of me.” you say, grabbing his hand before he walks off to put away your medicine. “of course, baby.” he says, a warm smile on his face. 

“i’m your boyfriend, i’m going to do everything i can to make you feel better and happy. 

i don’t care if you’re sick, i’m going to take care of you.

that’s what i’m here for.” 

his words alone heal your sickness and you can’t help but imagine a life of forever with him. 

“besides, if i get sick then it’s your turn to take care of me!” he says teasingly, a wide cheesy smile as you roll your eyes at him, the two of you laughing it off. 

𐐪♡𐑂 @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - It's Quiet but Sweet RN

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

I'm early I know, I have a v busy weekend.

Jan 2025 Week 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - So awkward and so cute! I love the sibling relationships in this show. They’re all so wonderful. 

Could we talk about Thomas in that aborted sex scene? That ultra sensual sniff test neck thing?

He did a phenomenal job at conveying Japanese thirst with Taiwanese payback, unique IMHO for Thai BL. Kong did a pretty standard Thai style uke call and response, perhaps a bit more sexy than most. But Thomas was really spectacular. All in all, a particularly sensual make-out scene, rare in this kind of BL. I applaud the actors and director.

These two are so lovely.

OMG Lee has a phi he likes? Where did this nugget of joy come from?

Hyung romance crumbs are a go! Just for me? How kind. Goodness Lee has got great game, watch that boy work. He certainly didn’t get it from his older brother. Also that was such a smooth approach, what a classy way to get permission to court. I don’t know why we got this inserted tiny short story, but I’m not mad about it. I hope we get more. But this is crumbs, can’t expect it. 

ThamePo (Fri YT) ep 5 of 12 - I love how Po understands Nano's feeling of heartbreak as just that, since to lose a friend (or friends) can be as painful as losing a lover. Po is such an empathic character, I love him so. 

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - I did bark with laughter at Style’s dad interrupting them. Also I enjoy the tension of knowing that there is doom in coming. It’s fun to watch these actors really stretch themselves to portray loving boyfriends with secrets. Bison looks like a determined little feral thing, Fadel just looks tired poor baby. 

Caged Again (Fri Gaga) ep 10 end - Pet fish baby + cat = snack…… EPIC. Also giving a cat a career as a stuntman is genius. 

Final Thoughts

A sweet and innocent show with an absurd premise = sunshine penguin + grumpy panther become human boys and fall in love. With great leads and sides, a solid (if campy) support cast, and sweetly queer backbone, this still never entirely resonated with me because it was just a little too slow. Still I can totally understand why others loved it so much. 8/10 

Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 15 of 16 - I love that North has no artifice whatsoever. But frankly I’m really more interested in the 2 pairings still to come. If we are lucky. Arthit “getting bitten by piranhas” thing was hilarious. 

Sangmin Dinneaw (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - Of course I love the argument over linguistics, this time honorifics. So good. But the rest of this ep was pretty slow. 

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT) ep 11 of 24 - Gun is a little dim, poor thing, but I do kinda adore him. Yotha is a bit of a melodramatic queen though I love how he deadpan responds to teasing and always acts exactly like a boyfriend. And I see GMMTV’s patented “single brain cell club” is back. 

The Boy Next World (Sun IQIYI) ep 1 of 10 - Well it’s certainly intriguing. And I like this pair better here than in their first series. 

Ossan‘s Love Thailand (Mon YouTube) ep 1 of 12 - Oof. Well, it’s better than the original, but that’s not saying much (from me). It’s slightly less overacted. I still find the lead utterly unappealing and I have no idea why anyone, including the audience, is supposed to be interested in him. But if he looks like Earth maybe it makes a little bit more sense? Mix is great. Honestly? This just made me wanna rewatch Thousand Stars.  

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 13 end - What a darling little show. I genuinely couldn’t have enjoyed it more. About a deaf care worker and his spoiled broken little prince. Taiwanese at its softest and best. Highly recommended. 

Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu (Japan Tues Gaga) ep 10 end - The feeding each other water thing when the water-bottle trope is so prevalent in JBL = just so good. 

Summation 

Adapted from a Korean Webtoon I can see why this went to Japan, it's super harsh for KBL Essentially a story about two lonely boys from opposite sides of the track who fall madly in love in high school, despite the fact that one is  repressed and the other abused. Despite a rough premise (trigger warnings) this is an oddly lovely little show. Darker than is my personal preference but sublimely stylish, turns out sometimes that combo works for me (see The 8th Sense). The world that springs to mind is “refined.” I enjoyed the restful distancing feel of the filming style.

This is an easy 9/10 from me. 

Eternal Butler (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 12 - I’m sorry but if you have a sex robot, he should be self lubing. Just saying. Also…… better at parking (pun not intended). I like the sides now. I’m enjoying this more than the first installment, easer power dynamic to digest. I do kinda adore the main couple and all their kinks. 

When it Rains it Pours (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Convoluted story about a man in a relationship who is sexually unfulfilled and his friend who is in love with him, who accidentally become secret confidants.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 15 of ? - no time this week, two next week.

It's airing but......

Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Thai ???) - has been picked up to air on WeTV, or something? Criminals who meet in prison fall in love. I did find it on YouTube, initially un-subbed, then subs happened by which time I got distracted. It is very pulp but intriguing. For now it's to the wayside until someone tells me it landed safely. Occasionally Thai pulps want to be edgy and it's not a good look on them. But sometimes they do good.

In Case You Missed it

End of year wraps are here!

2024 Trend Report

MY BEST & WORST BLs of 2024

Best Kisses (and sex scenes) of 2024

BL's 2024 Quirky Awards

2024 Awards - Quick Picks

Next Week Looks Like This:

January Drops

1/15 Impression of Youth (Taiwan Weds Viki iQIYI) 9 eps - Same team as DNA Says Love You, so I have high hopes.

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

It me. (Fourever You)

Gayest bridge in Thailand is back!

Love a good lap lie.

I NEED MOAR!!! (all Your Sky)

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[zylusmusings]

With backs facing each other, this is truly the furthest she has ever been from Toji. And while she's yearning for a warm and heavy arm to coil around her waist (the only way she knows to fall asleep), the residual anger from the fight after dinner stops her from moving any closer. The feeling has yet to dispel even two full hours of silence, none of this pair of lovers seem to be caving in just yet.

As great as a partner Toji is, he is still human and surely he'd say the same about her two. Two people do not have to be perfect to fall in love.

Tonight is an exemplar of the fact. Stubborn as mules, the two are, but still so suffocatingly in love with one another that there isn't a sleeping soul in the bedroom at the moment due to this foreign change in their nightly routine cuddles. Despite the comfortable blankets and fluffy pillows, the thermostat set just right and the muffled pitter patters of the night rainfall, none of them are able to fall asleep. An insomniac could be lulled right asleep tonight but she and Toji are both wide awake, yet pretending (and failing miserably) at falling asleep. Egos too proud and just as awake, screaming at the other, "I do not care that I cannot feel your breath right on my skin, that your warmth is the only thing that can calm my mind, that my heart is begging you to please give in and embrace me first."

45 minutes after they both had wordlessly gotten under the covers, grumpy expressions dressing their faces and tensions still as high as ever, she is still tossing and turning. And if not having her in his arms isn't enough to keep him awake, her body tossing and turning under the sheets every five minutes most definitely is. Paired with her quiet huffs of frustrations, Toji is more than well aware now that she hasn't gotten a blink of sleep either. They have five hours before the alarm goes off, and as the seconds continue to pass, it serves as a warning for these two with an eight hour workday tomorrow. Toji takes heed of this warning, yet his pettiness wins another battle of this tug of war.

She, however, has her patience running thin. As it grows thinner, her yearning grows stronger and she knows she's only a couple seconds before snapping... and she snaps ever so gently.

Toji has been unmoving, the complete opposite from her, so her pride makes the hopeful assumption that he has fallen fast asleep. Conflicted, she frowns as she lays on her back for the first tonight, her cheek pressed against the pillow to face him. How could he sleep so peacefully without holding her, yet she struggles wholeheartedly. He is so near, yet so far away.

Under the dim light, courtesy of the moon and stars peeking through the windows, her eyes map out every crevice of his back muscles. The longing only grows - she practically salivates at the familiar warmth she knows his body brings, how she wishes she could just wrap her arms and legs around him from behind like a koala, just like she always does on days when he's exhausted from a long day of work and all he wants is the warmth of her chest pressed against his back.

She struggles to make a decision between staying put and clinging onto him, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip as she deliberates. She then decides to find the balance between the two - simply hooking her pinky into the elastic of the back of his sweatpants. It isn't much, yet the tiny skinship from the area where their skin meet relaxes her tense shoulders immediately.

Toji takes the small win.

Grunting, he turns around to face her. In a flash, he turns her on her side and pulls her body flush against his. His arm is tight around her waist, and any other person would find it suffocating but ironically, she finds that it liberates her from distress. She only manages to get the first syllable of his name out in a yelp, before he hushes her.

"Sleep, ma. We'll fight tomorrow morning," the burly man speaks into her hair. He takes the opportunity to inhale her scent, and for a moment he inwardly scolds himself - he let his own stubbornness starve himself of this? He hears her huff, her body tense again (as if she hadn't been the one to initiate contact in the first place).

"Couldn't fall asleep with all the sheets rustling, just go to sleep so we both can get some rest," Toji grumbles, but he has a smirk hidden in her hair. As a final act of rebellion (or so she thinks), she meekly responds, "We'll fight tomorrow." Contrasting her words, she tries to impossibly move closer to him, savouring and gobbling up every last piece of him that she can get before their anticipated fight tomorrow, when she'll have to pretend that she doesn't want to kiss her anger to death against his lips -- and honestly, Toji just the same. And as if it still isn't enough (it isn't) she turns around swiftly to bury her nose into his neck. She finally lets out the breath she's been holding back.

His smirk grows, enjoying every piece of affection she is giving him right now. But truthfully, Toji is just as starved and it's evident when he pulls her arms to wrap around his torso, but not before he slips them underneath his shirt.. just like she always does, skinship prioritised.

With bellies finally satiated by mutual embrace and and the familiar scent of the other, they both yawn in unison, leaving them chuckling and giggling tiredly. "Not so angry anymore hm, mama?" He snickers, pushing his luck but immediately pressing a kiss to her head as if to soothe her anger from bubbling again.

"Shut up. We're still fighting tomorrow."

"Yes, we are. I still love you, though."

"I love you too, Toji."

[haveihitanerve]

batfamily shenanigans: The kids make up fun silly rumors to freak out the justice league about the batcave. Like this one rumor where the bats in the cave are trained to attack intruders.

Bruce hated when his kids came to the Watchtower. Make no mistake, he loved his children, and any opportunity they allowed him to spend with them was like winning the lottery. But every time they joined him with the League, they somehow always managed to create a new rumor that fueled beliefs about him/Batman, that he wasn't entirely comfortable with.

It started, as most things in Gotham did, with Dick.

"What do you mean I can't take the bats to school for show and tell?" He whined as they entered the Watchtower for about Dick's third time. Bruce sighed, so far unaware of his son's ulterior motive.

"Chum, we've covered this, the bats in the Batcave aren't pets. You can't just take them-"

"I know that they're used as security and you've trained them to kill people, but that's only at your command!" Dick interrupted, pulling out all the stops of crossing his arms and pouting, voice echoing down the hall. League activity froze.

Bruce himself was frozen, unsure he had just heard his ward right, so shocked that Dick used the opportunity to plow ahead.

"I promise not to use the kill word! I swear!" He begged, and oh no, now the tears were coming.

Bruce glanced around frantically, but all of the League members nearby were staring at him weirdly, shifting away.

"He has murder bats?" Green Lantern hissed.

Bruce sent his son a look, dragging him back to the Zeta Tubes. His son smirked, only for a fraction of a second, before the waterworks returned. "You're never coming here again." Bruce muttered. Dick just laughed.

~

Apparently, the "tradition" was passed on. Bruce had hoped and prayed it wouldn't, that Jason, the sweetheart that he was, wouldn't adopt his gremlin older brothers activities, but Jason adored Dick. It was only a matter of time.

"Here ya go Batman!" Robin chirped cheerily, entering the meeting room with a cup. "You forgot to hydrate. Don't want ya passing out from lack of nutrition!"

Bruce glanced up from his work, frowning at his son. The thought was... kind, of course, but there was no need for him to announce it so loudly. Right when he entered the room. With eight other Leaguers present. And Batman was sitting on the other side. But oh well, he was being cute.

That was until Jason reached him. Bruce had noted the reaction as his son had walked past the other League members, the subtle glances they threw at the cup to peek at what was inside, then the paling of their faces as they stepped away.

His eyes narrowed, but Jason smiled, and some of his suspicion melted. Some. Not all. Jason was an angel from above, but he had fallen nevertheless.

So it came at no great shock when Jason handed him his cup, and it was filled to the brim with dark, ruby red punch. "Bin." Bruce growled, low in his throat. Low enough that only the few super hearing metas could hear.

"What Batman?" Jason chirped back, only one octave louder. "Is today's serving not to your liking? This one was very compliant. You like it to be willing, don't you?"

Bruce gritted his teeth. Jason's smile grew. "Night sent you didn't he." He grumbled, less an accusation, more resignation. Jason shrugged.

"He might've slipped me the idea that you need some company." But I came up with the rest was apparent enough. Good to know both his children were now demons. Bruce sighed and grabbed the cup.

~

Timothy, sweet, sweet, Timothy Drake would never do anything to hurt Bruce. Never. And yet here they were.

"You checked up on the guy from last night, by the way?" Tim asked casually, standing next to him by the Watchtower windows.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, glancing at his newest Robin. "Guy from last night?"

Tim nodded, pulling out his phone. That was when Bruce discovered his third was the worst of the worst. Because he had "proof".

"The dude you shot in the dick yesterday?" Tim asked, as though confused why Bruce wasn't getting it. "Come on, it's your favorite tactic to get information." The screen itself was blank, but Bruce knew that if he was pushed, Tim could pull up very real photos, and maybe even a video of Batman shooting someone in the penis. On multiple occasions.

Bruce gritted his teeth. "Is he okay?" He muttered, as League members around them shifted away, some of the men holding a protective hand around their genitals. Tim's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, he's doing fine now. Probably missing some things, but well." He shrugged. "What can you do?"

Bruce nodded his agreement, glancing at the Leaguers nearby. "Indeed."

~

Stephanie was the worst of them all. Because she was open about it. Because she came up with four in one day. Because he never invited her to the Watchtower for that specific reason, but she always came along anyway.

"Why didn't you tell me you steal people's eyes and keep them as trophies?" She gasped, smacking his arm in faux outrage.

Bruce almost broke down right there. Barry ran into the wall, Hal nearly fainted, and Oliver let out a real life gasp. Steph grinned.

"And you stabbed someone through the side with a table????" She exclaimed even more dramatically. "How is that even possible?"

Bruce shrugged. "Well its all about the balance of weight y'know?"

Steph ducked her head to cover her grin. "Wait so that means the rumors about you absorbing villains strength is true?" She false whispered.

Bruce nodded seriously. "Don't tell anyone."

Steph shook her head, tsking quietly. "How do you even do it?"

"It requires a ritual." Bruce revealed quietly, glancing around. "I can teach you, but it requires you to bind your soul-" He straightened as new Leaguers came around the corner, eyes already wide. "I'll tell you later." He mumbled.

Steph almost ruptured a lung in her effort not to laugh, burying herself under his arm and against his side. "Okay Batman." The laugh was audible to him in her words. "Later."

~

"Shaytan, I demand you return Father to me." Bruce blinked at the strange way in which his son was speaking to him.

"What?" He stuttered out, only years of rigorous Batman training keeping him from revealing any more confusion. Damian sighed impatiently, tapping his foot.

"I know that you are in control of the body right now." He muttered. "Shaytan, really. If you wanted to be Batman you could have just said something, but it is Father's turn to have control of the body."

Bruce blinked at his son. This was... creative. Truth be told, he quite honestly wasn't sure if this was Damian's own idea, or if maybe the others had convinced him that it was true. That Bruce was possessed by a demon who periodically took control of his body and mind.

"I assure you Robin, it is me." Bruce answered, trying his best to deepen his voice, make it slightly raspy, shoulders curving slightly to cramp his back. Damian's eyes glinted.

"Oh, of course." He returned sarcastically, and yep, Damian was in on the joke. "Come Shaytan, you know Father does not need sleep, and you dozed off moments ago. Additionally, you keep leering at the humans. It is not feeding time yet. Pull yourself together."

Bruce had to admit, it was funny seeing all his co-workers losing their minds over these what-the-fuck-does-that-mean rumors. And Damian was a damn good actor. It provided him some enjoyment in these dull hours.

Bruce shook himself, straightening, and blinked down at his son a few times. "Ah. Robin. Shaytan took over a moment ago. Thank you." Damian nodded back, crisp and sure.

"Of course Father. We do not want a repeat of last fall do we?" Bruce noted Hal, mouthing "last fall?" in horror to Barry, who shrugged helplessly. He smiled faintly, tousling his sons hair.

"No Robin, we do not."

[httpsdana]

I need more stories about Mason Mount. Maybe about him feeling insecure after getting injured again and becoming distant with his close family

Spilled Thoughts~Mason Mount

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: masey's bday deserved a fic

y/n turned the tv off as Mason was subbed off with yet another injury. She dropped on the couch with a sigh, the image of her boyfriend’s devastated face plastered in the back of her mind.

She remembered how excited he was in the morning for this match, having his first start after a while. But now 15 minutes through the match, he was down on the pitch.

Two hours later, Mason finally arrived, dropping his bag on the floor and closing the door gently behind him.

She quickly stood up when he entered the living room, his smile weak and his body tense.

“Masey…” she started, but he quickly shook his head, his gaze shifting to the floor.

“Please, just…hold me?” his voice was vulnerable and raw, and she could swear she saw his eyes tearing up.

She nodded, putting her hand out for him to hold. She pulled him down with her on the couch, his head immediately resting on her shoulder and arms around her waist, while she brushed her fingers through the short strands of his hair.

She waited for him to say anything, hoping he would open up and speak about the feelings he has been bottling up in him. But a few minutes later, she felt his weight heavier on her, his breathing more calm and steady.

She looked down at him, how his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, his lips in a small pout. As she stared at him more, she noticed something. A single tear at the bottom of his cheek. She felt her eyes tearing up as she wiped the tear of his cheek, pressing a faint cheek in the same spot.

“It’ll get better, Masey” she mumbled against his hair, kissing the crown of his head. “I promise”

A few days have passed since Mason’s injury, and he has already started working on his recovery. But he hasn’t been the same since then. He hasn’t been physically distant, quite the opposite actually.

He was always lingering by her side, never pulling away from hugs until she did it first. It just seems like he was keeping too much inside, that he wasn’t speaking much.

y/n didn’t want to pressure him into talking about what’s bothering him, but the phone call from his mom changed that.

“Mason hasn’t called in a while, is everything okay?” Debbie asked, her vice laced with worry.

y/n was surprised. This wasn’t the first time Mason became more reserved after an injury, but it was the first time he was distant to his family, the people he loved the most.

She didn’t want to worry his mom about him and saying she didn’t know the reason behind him closing off so she said, “it’s just with his injury and the recovery he’s been a bit busy, you know?”

“oh…I get it, I was just worried. Take care of him honey” Debbie said, making her smile

“Always. Have a great day” she said before hanging up.

Just as she placed the phone down on the coffee table, the front door opened and Mason appeared.

“Hey handsome” she stepped closer as he took off his shoes. He looked up at her, his smile small but genuine.

“Hey darling” he murmured, leaning closer and pulling her into a hug. She hugged him back tighter, not daring to pull back first.

They stood for a while by the door, in the comfort of each other's arms. When they pulled away, she couldn’t help but let the question slip off her lips.

“Is everything okay?” she asked carefully. Mason’s face twisted in confusion.

“Yeah…why?” he asked slowly. She let out a sigh, reaching over to play with the string of his hoodie.

“Your mom called,” she said, not looking up at him. She felt him take a deep breath before replying, “What did she say?”

“She said that you haven’t talked to her in a while. Why?” she looked up at him, watching how the guiltiness and sadness found their way back to his face. 

She felt her heart crack at his pained expression, her fingers grazing his forehead to smooth away the crease of his frown.

“I just…forgot” he said hesitantly, making her look at him with a knowing look that made him sigh.

“Talk to me, Masey. It’s not just your mom you’re not talking to, your friends, your teammates, even me. You haven’t talked to me properly since your injury. Let me help you baby, you can’t be carrying this weight on your own,” she said gently, trying not to push him too much, but she needed to know what’s wrong.

Mason smiled sadly, before pulling her by her hand to their living room. As they settled on the couch, she waited patiently for him to speak, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze that made him smile for a second.

“It’s just everything you know?” he said in a low voice, his eyes glued at their intertwined hands.

“The fans, the team, the coach, and then the injuries just make it worse. Everyone hates me cause I can’t seem to play two consecutive matches without getting injured. And for some reason my body can’t just fully recover so I can go back to my usual self. I just miss how it was before I was betrayed by my own body. I really just wanted to prove myself that I’m worth this number 7 in United but for some reason everything is going against me” he let out a long sigh as he blurted out all his insecurities and fears.

y/n couldn’t help the tears in her eyes as she listened to his shaky voice talking bad about himself.

“Masey…” she started, making him look at her, his heart dropping at the sight of her tears. “Your body hasn't betrayed you baby. You just haven’t adapted well with this move but that doesn’t mean you’re not worth playing at United. Everyone is excited for you to be back on the field and to show them the real Mason Mount that was once Chelsea’s golden boy. Your time will come sweetheart, you just have to be patient with yourself and work harder to be back stronger than ever. I’m so proud of you and of everything you’ve done. Never forget that” she said, never breaking eye contact with him.

Mason smiled softly, his hand squeezing hers as a way of thanking her.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you” he murmured, his other hand brushing against her cheek gently.

“You’ll never have to know. You’re stuck with me forever Mount” she joked, making him chuckle.

“I love you so much darling. I know I haven’t told you that a lot recently but I really do,” he said with guilt.

“I love you more honey. I know you’re going through a rough time but I’m always gonna be here to help you” she assured him, leaning her face against his hand.

Mason gave her another smile, before lowering his head and capturing her lips in a kiss. A way for him to tell her how grateful he is to have her by his side as his girl and number one supporter.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[madamechrissy]

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- MDNI- Warnings- overuse/incorrect use of prescription meds, angsty asf in places, scene of a medical procedure, death of a patient )at the beginning) heavy subject matter, some sexual tension. Reader, 26, Dr. Gojo 34- Grey's vibes ✨️

=͟͟͞♡ Word Count- this chap- 8k

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

♡ Reblogs and comments appreciated ♡

=͟͟͞♡ Part Five =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist

Part Six

Satoru has a morning routine.

Skincare? Well a splash of cold water on his face, he’s been lucky enough to have insane genetics, in his mid thirties he could pass for a college student, not a line on his perfect skin. But that was really all he did, that splash of cold water every morning, as he then starts to take his morning cocktail, after that he makes himself eat something, then brushes his teeth.

After that, he gets ready for the day, and as that Adderall mixes with his morning coffee? Fuck it’s perfection. Then when the Kolonopin hits right along with it, Satoru’s mind is blissfully open, and he’s able to focus on what he does best, saving lives. One doesn’t just become the best doctor there is, no that takes time, precision, and a lot of sacrifice.

Satoru is alone, usually. For a night he had you in here, in his bed and snuggled against him, and fuck he enjoyed it, which terrifies him. It’s been a week since he’s been able to do more than sneak hungry kisses with you in the locker room of the hospital, your schedule is longer than even his as you’re an intern, recently you worked twenty four hours straight.

Fuck he admires you, how even exhausted and dead on your feet, you manage to put a bright smile on your face, he’d love to just take care of you, but you have to go through this to truly become a great doctor. But he finds himself missing you, constantly thinking about you. You’ve become a fixation, a sort of obsession, he wants to know so much more about you.

He wants your body to fall apart under him again, wants to taste your arousal on his tongue, feel you clench around his fingers, watch as your cheeks flush and your hips raise for him. He wants you naked in his bed, but he also knows he’s just not good enough for you, for what you want and need.

But he’s selfish.

It’s almost Christmas, and the snow has piled up as he slides into his warmed up car, thinking of you and your ancient SUV, he hopes you at least have heat. His drive to the hospital is quiet, no music, as he takes another pill, this one is his Xanax, something about Klonopin and Xanax is blissful. Any stress he has gets replaced by a ton of ‘I don’t give any fucks’.

He knows you saw, you haven’t mentioned it though, and tonight he’s supposed to actually get you on this date. He wants time with just you, no other distractions, being inside of you is better than any cocktail of benzos he could dream of. If it was all his life consisted of, maybe he could go without it.

But the real world is just that.

The waiting room is packed, Satoru instantly goes into doctor mode, getting one lady in a wheelchair who’s vomiting blood, and he thanks god for that xanax, to help him through. He thanks god (or medicine rather) for the adderall making him have enough energy to run back and forth like a madman, helping everyone he can.

He helps the med students, the interns, the patients, the doctors on the floor who all come to him. ‘Dr. Gojo’ this ‘Please, Dr. Gojo- a minute’ that. Can you check this patient, can you check this scan, all while he’s got his eyes on his four interns, including the girl consuming him, the girl with exhausted eyes and shoulders that just look too narrow lately.

The girl he makes eat something because she’s been here all night helping a baby after a rough c section. He finds you in the nicu, with your hand inside the incubator, when he holds the coffee and muffin he’s brought you. But he pauses to watch you, as you mesmerize him with your pretty smile, singing something to the itty bitty baby.

“Does that actually help? I’ve heard it does.” Satoru murmurs, you jolt just a bit, looking up at him nervously.

“I think they enjoy the interaction, do you know if baby’s don’t get it they just… won’t make it?” You gulp as you speak, before continuing to hum.

“Shoko says you’ve been at it all night, why not eat a little something?” He suggests, you sigh, nodding then, taking off your gloves, going to wash your hands and pat them dry.

“You’re so sweet, thank you.” You give him a little kiss, and he exhales, setting your things down to pull you close.

“I miss you, can you hate babies already so you’re back on my floor?” You giggle breathlessly then.

“No, sorry. I miss you too.” You kiss him slowly, softly, your lips little brushes against his, in an easy rhythm that feels so natural, so perfect.

“Fine, one more day then I want you back.”

“Needy for me?” You tease, and he exhales, nodding. “I can’t wait for us to have a date, if shit doesn’t hit the fan.”

“When doesn’t it? Alright, you eat Missy.”

“Thank you Satoru.” You kiss him again, he pulls you so tight, like he can’t get you close enough, before letting you go.

After eating your breakfast/lunch/dinner - that muffin encompasses all of your overnight shift - you’re yawning when Shoko comes to you. “Emergency c section, you ready for this, intern?”

“Ready.” You’re scrubbing in now with Dr. Shoko, as the patient is prepped and sedated, falling into a slumber.

“She was a drug user, the entirety of the pregnancy.” Shoko informs you softly, as well as the others, and you pause then, looking up at her soft brown eyes behind her glasses.

“Is that why she’s so small?” You murmur, she looks maybe three months pregnant at best.

“Mmhm, it’s not the first. Four of them had fetal problems, two made it and were sent to child protective services.”

“Four!?” Shoko sighs, nodding as she starts prepping her, drawing a line with a marker over her lower abdomen. 

The surgery begins, you’re trying to keep your eyes on the procedure, not the heart rate monitor of the baby you heard earlier, already so faint there’s likely no chance. You don’t need to hear the baby’s heart drop, not when you know what that means, not when it’s one of your worst fears in this job so far.

You know all lives are important, but something about a sweet, precious baby not making it makes you question anything and everything, kids in general, it’s so much to handle so much. You know you can’t let it get you, you have to do what you do with all patients, focus.

Satoru wants you to dislike babies, to know better, but where he’s wrong is working with Shoko has you more in love with them. But you could do without, without having children, even if it’s heartbreaking to think of,  if it meant having Satoru’s love. You could put that aside and respect him, but right now all you can think of is how badly you hope this baby has a chance.

“Scalpel.” You watch as Shoko makes the incision, a perfect line, and you’re trying to keep your breath even as you watch her pull back the skin, the muscle, the fat, until she’s finally cutting toward the uterus.

You both are resting pieces of this woman’s small body on her nearly flat, open stomach, one of the oddest parts of the procedure. “Not much blood, that’s good.”

“Yes, here.” Then you see it, the uterus as Shoko hands you the scalpel. “You can do this.”

You take it with sure hands, a sense of dread filling you, one you’ve felt before, but you shove it down, as you delicately cut to reveal the baby, so tiny and blue, and not moving whatsoever. You swallow down the bile in your throat, taking a deep breath behind your mask as you start to suction its nose and mouth, it’s little limbs twitching slightly for just a moment.

“Come on, come on little one, breathe, please.” You whisper, your voice hoarse as you try to get it to breathe, taking the little boy to the little table as Shoko stitches the mom back up.

You’re intubating the baby that’s not crying, you’re giving it oxygen, you’re doing the little compressions, and you can’t hold back the tears that fall as you realize there’s no chance. This baby is maybe five months gestation at best, but even for that it’s unreasonably tiny, it’s just a helpless little doll on your table, one that you keep trying, as Shoko comes, listening for breathing, looking for any sign of life.

You hate that you're crying right here, that you can barely hold yourself together. Just what sort of doctor even are you!? You hate that you’re not stronger than this, but you’re just so tired, and you hate that you can’t save everyone, especially this little boy. Did he even have a chance, as his mother did all of that?

Even so, you hate that you couldn’t save him. You hate that Satoru isn’t here to hold you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, to distract you from this depression, Shoko’s murmuring in your ear, but you can’t even hear her truly. You keep repeating to yourself- ‘you’re a doctor, you’re a doctor, you’re a doctor’.

You have to keep going, even when it’s hard, right? You keep going even when it’s all just too much. You are shaking however, when Shoko gently pulls you away from the lifeless little body, shaking her head then.

“Long gone, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” You shake your head, you have to be pried off the little lifeless baby.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Shh, it’s okay. Step outside, I’ll be there.”

You realize from the talk amongst the nurses and others that the mother didn’t even care, she had meant to have an abortion but was too preoccupied, and thought drugs would ‘deal with it’. You can’t stop your anger, your fury, despite needing to remain ‘detached’.. You’re sobbing silently, sitting in one of the waiting room seats when Shoko and Satoru come to you.

“Think you need to take a break, go with Satoru for a bit, hmm?” You nod a bit, Shoko holds you for a moment, kissing your head, and you fall into Satoru’s arms, wrapped up so tightly, inhaling his scent, that cologne of his, feeling his heart against your cheek.

“Oh, baby… I’m so sorry.” He whispers huskily. “Come on, let’s go have some privacy?”

Soon you’re in his office, and you can’t hold it back anymore, not when it’s just the two of you, you break down completely, until you’re a mess.

“Shh, shh.” Satoru’s rubbing your back as you break into sobs, unable to breathe now, getting lightheaded as your breaths come in sharp little pants. “Hey, you need to take a deep breath.”

“C-can’t… how can I… be a doc- if I…” You’re all flushed and red when he pulls back and looks at you, cupping your face between his big hands.

“Breathe. In. Out.”

“C-can’t, can’t… fucking it all up… I…” You back away then, hand on your chest, struggling as your hands are going numb, and you feel yourself getting dizzy. “The baby is just… he’s just gone and I… I can’t take it.”

Satoru sighs, holding you closely. “You have to though, this is what being a doctor is, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, feeling your blood pressure rising more and more, the crushing weight and your exhaustion hitting. “Then I can’t, I can’t-”

“Yes. You can.” Satoru shakes you then, grabbing you by your shoulders. “You can do this, you did what you could with the baby. Plenty of others you’ve saved, and their moms. You can’t fix everything.”

“I… I…” You collapse against him, sobbing again, as the door knocks, Satoru shushes you gently.

“Yeah?”

“Dr. Gojo…” You hear Miwa’s voice then, you quickly swipe at the streams of tears on your sticky cheeks.

“I’m busy right now, what is it?” You’re turning away, trying to get yourself together now.

“I am prepping OR 3 for surgery.”

“Yes, thanks.” Satoru’s hand is on your back now, comforting in its touch, but then his words make you tense. “Do you see now?”

“See what exactly?” You turn to him, eyes swimming with tears that are burning as you struggle to focus.

Satoru sighs, swiping a hand through his silky white locks, before putting his hands in the lab coat pockets, tilting his head. “How awful it’d be, to have kids. Especially this line of work, how could you keep it all together?”

You glare then, jaw setting, hands clenched into fists by your sides, fury taking over every part of you. “What!?”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but maybe this is a learning lesson, a reality check of what you’ll handle here.”

Your jaw clenches so tightly it hurts, breaths quicker and quicker. “You know what? I have not said shit about the cocktail of pills in your bathroom. I have not said shit about the fact that you seem to hate kids or something. I have not said one word about you, about your lifestyle, your fear of commitment, I haven’t tried to change you or pry.”

Satoru falters then, hitting him in waves how furious you are, realizing now what he’s done, his lips parting. “Shit, I’m sorry, I-”

“No, you’ll let me finish, Dr. Gojo.” At your formal tone he’s breaking, he sees it then, you’re trembling, barely able to keep it together, he feels your anger and even worse, your disappointment. “I haven’t said a damn thing, because we just got together, and we don’t even know each other yet.”

“You act like this connection is normal?” His hands go to your waist, but you shove them off.

“No, it’s not, but what is also not normal is pushing someone to want what you want. You’re trying so hard to make me change my mind, for what? So I can be a perfect little girlfriend for you? So easy, let you do what you want and have no fucking opinions?”

“That’s not what I want. I want you.” He tries again, but his hands freeze an inch above your skin when you glare up at him through tears.

“I don’t pry, I don’t judge, I just accept you. But you can’t accept anything that doesn’t fit into your world, can you?”

“I can accept it, I just know you’re not thinking rationally, you’re young and still inexperienced.”

You laugh then, a humorless laugh at him. “That’s insane talk from you, truly Dr. Gojo. Your whole MO is thinking outside the norms, is letting feelings in. But only if it benefits you. And my age? I’m no baby, you’re not even that much older.”

“It’s life experience, is all.”

“Hah, you don’t even know my life.”

“Just… I’ll drop it. I swear.” You shake your head at him, and he panics then, sensing you falling back from him. “I will drop it, come here, you’re upset.”

“Yes, I’m upset! What I just had to see, what I just had to… and you’re what, rubbing it in my face!?”

Satoru’s blood pressure rises as he realizes he’s losing you, his hands trembling, sure hands that never falter. “I’ll stop, just don’t… don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?” You whisper, he cups your face and you can’t push him away, not when he slams his lips down on yours, and you’re kissing him back for just a moment, before thinking better of it, freezing your lips, pressing them in a terse line. He’s a breath away, leaning over you, taking over you completely.

But you can’t.

“Don’t you leave me. Please. You’re important to me.” He needs you, he needs you so badly, but he feels you slipping through his fingers, knowing he’s pushed you too far. “I’ll drop this. I’ll respect what you want.”

“Oh now you will? Instead of comforting me after watching that little baby…” You can’t even say it, you can’t even think of it, the images in your head making you devastated. “You know I’m emotional, you knew that and you said it was a good thing for a doctor, but because it’s not what you want in this situation you use it as what. A lesson? It’s no lesson, it was a baby!”

Satoru sighs now, shaking his head, covering his face, temples pounding as the blood rushes to his brain. “It was fucked up of me.”

“Yeah, it was.” You take a shaky breath, shaking your numb hands, pacing now, and Satoru watches you with his heart in his throat. “I can’t.”

“Don’t do this. I see what I did.”

“This isn’t good, any of it, me and you. What do we have? We had insane sex, I have feelings…”

Satoru blinks snowy lashes, droplets just nearing the tips of them, as his lower lip trembles, damn near ending your resolve. “You have-”

“Feelings that are too much. It’s too much, I can’t even focus on this internship, you consume me.” Satoru yanks you against his chest, his breath sweeping over your swollen lips, bitten to death from the stress of the day.

“You think you don’t consume me?” He whispers hoarsely, and you shake your head, earning his humorless laugh. “You’re wrong, so wrong, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t look at me that way, those eyes of yours, eyes that make me stupid.” You shove at his chest as those blue eyes take you over, snowy lashes lowered, a beautiful face that makes you ache.

“Don’t leave me. Please.” His voice breaks, and you feel it, his vulnerability, it makes your stomach flip, makes you almost sick.

“Why can’t you accept me, when I accept you?”

“Because I don’t want to disappoint you, I thought it’d be better if you want…”

“What you want.”

Satoru gulps now. “I’m selfish, I want you and only you, I wouldn’t want something else in our lives.”

“Our lives?” You laugh then. “There’s never an ‘our’. Not when you just want to fix everything you deem wrong with me.”

“I don’t want to ‘fix’ you. I’ll stop it. Just kiss me.”

“No.” He pauses a centimeter from your lips, exhaling. “I won’t kiss you anymore, I won’t let you say insane things in my ear while you fuck me, ‘only me ever’ what are you trying to do to me!?”

“I meant it.”

“No, let me go.” His hands drop, as he blinks back tears, and you’re a mess in front of him. “Satoru… I could have gotten over it for you. Wanting marriage, wanting serious shit, wanting kids. Don’t you know I’d give it all up for you, for a chance to be with you? But you trying to change me? That’s where I draw the line.”

You hate seeing him in tears, your beepers both go off then, and you step away, heading towards the door. Satoru’s hand stops you, over your little one, his voice desperate as he leans over you. “I was wrong, will you just forgive me?”

“You made me work with Shoko to hate babies. Then when it backfires, you say something like that?”

“I know. I know.” He hugs you from behind, burying his head against your neck, and you love the embrace, you love him.

But you also love yourself, and you can’t handle it anymore, the cold, cruel way he goes about things. The careless way he dismisses you and all of your feelings, the way he thinks only his way is right, that everyone should think as he does. You shake in his hold, everything pulling you to him.

“Do you hate me?” He whispers brokenly, and you shake your head, looking up at him now, his blue eyes glittering with tears.

“I could never. Far from it.”

“Then give me a chance to fix it.” His thumb brushes over your jaw, your precious face destroyed, your beeper goes off again and you take a breath.

“Let me go. We’ll talk later.”

You walk out, leaving him sobbing against the door, his head against it, fist landing on it, struggling to pull himself together. You’ve in just a couple months become the most important thing in the world to him, but you’re just… leaving him. And he can’t blame you, he’s confused you, he’s turned your life upside down, and he instead of comforting you…

He threw shit in your face.

Why couldn’t he just let you want kids? Well, because he can’t be a parent, and he can’t give you it, and he wants you, no he needs you. He needs you with him, only him, to feel your lips on his, your body against him. To see your little smile, to hear your moans and cries, to comfort you when you’re exhausted.

He should have comforted you, why did he need to do it like that? Why did he fuck everything up? The thoughts swarm in his head as he leans back in his chair now, covering his face with a hand, before he yanks open his drawer. He takes out the xanax and crushes it right on his desk, lining them up with a credit card he yanks now from his wallet.

He rolls up a hundred dollar bill and snorts it right up his nostril, it burns like a bitch, makes his eyes water, but he knows it will hit soon, he won’t give as many fucks, right? But after twenty minutes he’s taking another, and another, until he sees his shift is done, and he’s weakly walking towards the locker rooms, seeing you there changing, looking at your gorgeous frame.

Your eyes catch his then, you quickly look away, your eyes are puffy from the crying he’s made you do, when he slips off his shirt, head fuzzy. He stumbles just a bit, catching your concerned gaze. Which infuriates him then, he steadies himself and glares at you, slipping off his own shirt, noticing your gaze just grows more worried when he slips his top on.

“Satoru, what’s… are you okay?” You care about him? Why?

“Just peachy, sweets.” He gives you a fake smile, and your heart races, as you look up at eyes almost black, so dilated.

“Satoru are you-”

“Don’t ask shit about my life. You’re done, right?” His unexpectedly cruel words pierce your heart, you turn away, body shaking. “That’s what I thought.”

“Are you okay?” You ask again, turning back around, watching his lids lower just a bit as he leans over you, pressing you against the cool metal of the lockers.

“No, m’not okay. Girl of my fuckin’ dreams hates me.” You hear it, the slut of his words, as he takes a hand and cups your face. “Why do you gotta be so beautiful?”

“You’re fucked up.” You manage to breathe out, and he smirks then.

“Me? Nah. Maybe fucked up over you, intern. Haunt my every dream, now you’re gonna just leave?”

“Satoru…”

“You should know what you’re missing.” He kisses you again, desperate and messy, brutal and hungry, hands pulling you against his hard body. You whimper, hating your body’s reaction to him, how it lights up. “You want me, huh?”

“Of course I do. It’s you who can’t accept me.”

“I can… I can…” He kisses you again, one hand cupping you between your thighs over your leggings. “Always so hot f’me.”

“We won’t do it. I deserve better.”

“You do.” He presses a finger along your clit, moaning then. “Better, better… you do… lemme just take care of you, hmm?”

“Stop it, Toru. You’re not yourself right now.”

“This is me.” He kisses you again, as you press on his chest. “It’s all me, this is really me. Gonna run the other fuckin direction when you learn.”

“Ahem.” Suguru’s clearing of his throat does nothing to Satoru, who’s in a haze of lust, depression and xanax. “Satoru, back off.”

“She’s leaving me, Sugu, who doesn’t?”

“It’s not like that!” You hiss through your teeth.

“Satoru…”

“What?” He sways just a bit, Suguru’s frowning now as he looks at him.

“Really, Satoru?”

“What? Really what? I’m tired of everyone so fucking judgy.”

“Suguru take him home.” You whisper, and he nods then, but Satoru glares over at you.

“Why should he?” He demands. “I’m fine. I take more than I did for fucking breakfast.”

“You can’t have someone see you like this.” Your first worry is someone walking in, Satoru losing his career, every other hurt or worry is thrown into a back seat.

“M’perfect, baby. Should I show you?” He kisses you again, as you shove at him, glaring.

“You’re not perfect, maybe something’s hitting harder? You’re not okay.” He shakes his head, laughing now, eyes glinting.

“No I’m not okay, how can I be? When you’re leaving me.”

“I’m not, I just… I’m mad and I’m upset. Okay? Let me be. It doesn’t mean you have to… hurt yourself-”

“You hurt me existing.” He whispers, cupping your face again.

“Satoru, enough.” Suguru’s words resonate in Satoru’s brain, thank god. “Get your goddamn jacket and shoes on.” Satoru huffs and Suguru brushes your hair back as he finally lets you breathe, ever so gently, dark violet eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay, love?”

You nod quickly. “We just… have different views and he was hurtful, but I’m worried more than anything.” You whisper, looking at Satoru now, you’ve never, ever seen him like this. Your heart hurts for him.

“He’ll be fine, I’ve got it. You get home and get some sleep.”

“Thank you, Suguru.” He nods, and you shut your locker, when Satoru looks at you with devastated eyes, shattering your heart.

“I’m so sorry for what I did. Okay?” He whispers, taking your hands then, and you sigh, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Satoru I never put myself first, with my toxic exes. I let them run all over me. I have to take care of my heart this time.It’s not that I don’t feel it, I feel it. Just please, I have to put myself as a priority.” You touch his chest over his soft sweater, and he has two trails of tears falling from his cerulean eyes.

“Do you need time?”

“I need a minute to breathe, to think. We’ll talk more when you’re…”

“What, sober? Sweetheart I never am.” He whispers, right against your lips, Suguru puts a hand on his shoulder now.

“She’ll talk to you tomorrow. Right?”

“I will.” Satoru kisses your forehead, and you have to hold in every bit of you that wants to take him home yourself, that part screaming forgive him.

But even for Satoru Gojo, the man that’s taken over your heart, you have to protect yourself.

“Good night, then intern.” He murmurs, running the backs of his cool fingers across your overheated cheek.

“Good night Satoru, Suguru.” He gives you the smallest smile, when you leave Suguru exhales, covering his face.

“I fucked it all up, Sugu.” His voice is broken, and Suguru puts an arm around him now.

“How much did you take?”

“Four bars. Not OD level.”

“Thank god. Just… Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Soon you see Satoru and Suguru, as you climb up in your car, and you rest your head on the steering wheel, bawling your eyes out.

It feels so wrong not to be in his arms, not to kiss him, something that just started became so precious to you, so special. But what he did was nasty and hurtful, what he keeps doing, trying to make you change like this, you know you’ve done the right thing. But you also know you’re in love with him, with a beautiful, brilliant and broken man, and you won’t be able to let him go fully.

*****

The next morning Satoru is there bright and early, sipping on coffee in the cafeteria as you walk in, faltering. Remembering so vividly being pressed against those lockers, those eyes that were black almost are now a calm storm of blue, as he looks at you over his hot cup, steam fogging up around his face. You just stand there, because you’re exhausted, you’re hurt.

You want to be with him more than anything, you wanted to go on that damn date with him, wanted to fall asleep in his arms. You want to just forgive him so easily, to fall into the abyss that is Satoru Gojo, to feel those plush lips on yours, to have those eyes devour you. Feel those long fingers that are currently curling around that styrofoam cup, touching your cheek.

You both stand there, until you clear your throat, smiling just a little, a sad smile that makes Satoru feel like shit. He knows how bad he’s hurt you, he’s had all morning to think about it, about how fragile you were, so vulnerable, coming to him to feel better, and what did he do instead? Make you leave him, devastate you, and all he can think of is how to put a real smile on your face again.

“Morning, Dr. Gojo.” You say softly, eyes lowering, lashes casting shadows over your cheeks.

“Good morning, intern.” He says, his voice isn’t the bright and goofy one you’re used to, or the husky sultry one for you, or even the flirtatious one. It’s a soft voice, unsure, just like you.

You grab your coffee now, your shoulder brushing his, just that contact alone makes you ache, the pain in your heart so brutal you feel emotions starting to come in waves. There is so much left unsaid as you both walk out past the packed waiting room, heading over to the elevator, Satoru presses the button, and you stand next to him, feeling the pull, it’s just stronger today.

“I’m…” Satoru clears his throat, looking down at you now, your breath catches. “I’m really sorry that I pushed it. I understand we’re over, but I need to tell you.”

You look up at, swallowing nervously, the backs of his hand brushing against yours, and yours gently brushes back, sending shivers down his spine. “I forgive you, I do. It’s just… we’re too different.”

Satoru turns toward you, leaning down low, free hand cupping your face. “Too different?”

You nod, feeling the tears burning your eyes. “We are, Satoru, so different, and that’s okay. But I think we both know it won’t work.”

“Yeah, you think so?” His words are hoarse, his gaze tearing through your every barrier, a sad, lost gaze.

“I do. Maybe you were happier before, a Hojo and all.” You smile sadly, looking down at his perfect lips. “I hope we can be friends, when you go back to collecting those infinity stones.”

Satoru presses the stop on the elevator then, making you gasp, pulling you by your waist against him, so close you taste that sweet mocha on his breath. “You can leave me, I get it, but don’t think for one minute you’re not all I want. Don’t think I’m giving up on this.”

You can’t speak, not when he’s so close, not when the words he’s saying are ruining you, that you’re melting for him, as your own free hand slides up his chest. “You’re not?”

“How could I? It’s you.” Satoru exhales against you, almost brushing his lips on yours, before pulling back, starting the elevator. “Want that goddamn date with you. I’ll do anything I can to earn it.”

“Satoru…” He walks off when the elevator opens, leaving you to lean against the rail, head pressed against the wall, you’re not sure what floor you’re going to, you just know he’s got you too far gone to leave just now.

He’s not giving up on you, and you don’t want him to give up, either. But with so much between you left unsaid, you have no clue what any of it means. When you’re finally where you need to be, after several elevator rides of pulling yourself together, Satoru checks his rolex, peering at you.

“You’re late, intern.” His voice is calm, professional.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You manage hoarself, as Toge, Yuuta and Maki look at you, concern in their gazes, as they of all people truly knew what a mess you were last night after you got home.

“Don’t let it be a habit.” Gojo says, trying to be stern but it’s failing, it’s just a soft little order, one you nod at. “Wanna work with Shoko or do the pit with me?”

You’re surprised then, blinking a bit. “The pit, if I can please.”

He gives just the smallest little smile. “Then you’re on it. Maki, your week with Shoko.”

“Babies, yuck.” She shivers and Satoru smiles just a bit bigger, as Yuuta snorts in laughter.

Satoru surely feels the same as Maki, but you?

Satoru knows you are yourself, uniquely so. He now knows you were going to sacrifice it all for him, and he didn’t deserve you, not one bit, you deserve more, everything. But he’s so selfish, he wants you back, and he knows he’ll do anything for it, to have you back in his embrace, which feels so empty.

When you’re both alone in his office later, while going over a patient, he keeps his distance as much as he can. Satoru wants to respect this, your wishes, but his hands long to touch you, even those casual teasing brushes you all shared had meant so much to him.

“Present your case, intern.” He says then, leaning on his desk, you feel this distance he is keeping, and it breaks you, but you pull it together, this is your decision right?

“We had a patient with hours of stomach pain last night, ultrasound found gallstones, which should be what occurred, and ordered an EKG to rule out any potential signs of heart attack.”

“Perfect.”

“Patient is in his late fifties, mild drinker, smoker, but otherwise healthy, a little overweight. He likes tacos, he said.” You smile just a bit at it.

“Well who doesn’t? And EKG results?”

“Everything came back normal.”

“So what’s the best course of action?”

“The stones are small, but there are a few. I would suggest a laparoscopic cholecystectomy first, aside from gallbladder removal. That, and a lower fat diet, along with no alcohol should have him just right.” Satoru smiles at you, fuck you make him proud, holding yourself high.

“Exactly right, do you want to assist?”

You blink in surprise, you weren’t sure after everything, but Satoru is clearly not holding any of this against you. “If you would let me, of course, Sir.”

Sir.

Should be calling him that in the bedroom, he thinks, how pretty you’d be on your knees, begging for his cock in your mouth. The images are so lewd and it takes him everything to keep it together. He smiles though, sitting down and taking one of his klonopin right in front of you. You look away nervously, biting your lip.

“You should know all of me. You should know you were smart to leave.” He takes one and chews it up, feeling the sweetness hit his tongue.

“I don’t want to leave you.” You whisper, coming to him then, he pulls you between his thighs now, and you cup his face. “I didn’t judge you.”

“I know you didn’t, I know.” His eyes shut, he turns and kisses your palm so sweetly. “I won’t have anyone else, it’s just you.”

“Satoru it’s insane to say it, when you…”

“I know. I know it is.” He pulls you down, to where you’re leaned over him, one leg over his chair, your hands gripping the arms of his seat. His hands slip over your waist, right over your scrubs. “I’ll do anything to make it right.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you, fuck you? Suck you right here?” Satoru moans, hand pulling at your hair at the nape of your neck, little networks of goosebumps pricking up, your body reacting in every way, nipples pressed against your bra, desiring his touches.

“Think I don’t want you wrapped on this cock?” His seductive whisper has your hips shifting, a movement he notices avidly.

“You can have anyone, Satoru.”

“I only want you. I’ll have to show you. But will you let me try?” He asks, emotional now as the overwhelming feelings hit.

“I don’t want to be changed for you, I don’t want to give up who I am.” He sighs now, nodding, sad look on his beautiful face.

“I won’t change you. But sweetheart, you are changing me.”

“Bad or good, Satoru?” Your whisper damn near ends him, is it bad or good, this obsession with you? You’re good, but is he?

“I want it to be good. I don’t want to make you cry again, break you down, terrify you.”

You ease in his hold, a hold you never want to leave, but you try to think rationally, despite the overwhelming pull of him, despite the ache to press yourself fully against him, to let him take your pain away. “Then let’s… take time.”

He nods, brushing a thumb on your lower lip, just a little glossy from your chapstick, he can almost taste it, vanilla sugar. He’s caressing your face ever so softly. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, before pulling yourself off him, sighing.

“Time, huh?” Any time without you in his arms makes him sick, but when you nod he kisses your forehead, so sweetly you want to fall against him, fall into him. “I’l give it, don’t even deserve this right now.”

“I still feel it all for you.” You say, before you pull away, making his heart race. “Don’t hurt yourself over this, please. It’s not… I still…”

“Don’t worry about me, sweets. I’m fine.” His sad smile doesn’t reassure you anymore than he’s pretending it to be true. “Now, go get ready to put him on the board, yeah?”

“Yes Dr. Gojo.” You give him another worried little smile, leaving Satoru to cover his face in his hands.

No amount of a benzodiazepine lessens the need for you.

Your back is against the door, breaths coming quickly, leaning your head back and just longing to be with the man inside, the broken man that has your heart. You know it will never heal without him, no it needed him to heal, you want to stand so firm but your heart and soul know you belong to him, even if for now, you both don’t know it’s true.

You put on a brave smile, and set about your day. You could do this, right? Be without him? You were fine your whole life before you even knew Satoru. Surely… but then why then every time you formally speak to him, do you wish your lips could crash on his?

The day is hectic, even more hectic than usual, you’re running on nothing again, and when you’re finally done, and you’re heading to your car, you can hardly hold your eyes open. Satoru’s next to you suddenly, hands on your shoulders, you yawn as he looks down at you, you’re so curious how he got here.

“You’re too tired to drive, intern.”

You look at him, squinting just a bit in the dark night, the wind softly blowing back your sweater and making his snowy hair sway. “Are you fucked up?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Normal meds. I wouldn’t hurt you. Intentionally, aside from being an ass. I’ll take you home, Maki can bring you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, thank you Satoru.” Soon you’re driving in his car, his hand keeps wanting to rest on your thigh, but he stops himself. He’s running on nothing himself at this point, he’s exhausted, and all he can think of is what it’d be like to hold you against him tonight.

The longing for you, for any of you destroys him, the only sound is his car gently moving through the snow, the windshield wipers going as you keep stealing glances at him, so tired your eyes are heavy. All you can think of is holding him, falling into that bliss, god imagine, snuggling with him again, waking up with his kisses.

But you don’t know him, truly, and how will you, when you’re running from him? Even if it is the best thing for you, it doesn’t make it easier, not when you study his perfect profile in the night. Not when he glances your way for just a moment, that hand hovering right next to your thigh, like he’s fighting it too.

Soon you’re home, the heat of his car mixed with how tired you are makes it almost impossible to leave. Satoru leans over, unseatbelted you, and himself, a hand finally gently over your thigh. It burns through your warm, plush leggings, like a brand on your skin, his other hand brushing your hair back ever so softly, as he opens his mouth, then closes it.

It’s quiet in the car, your breaths and the low purr of the car filling the air, along with the wind outside and the gently falling flakes. “I will do everything I can to get you back, I won’t give up. I’m too fucking selfish.”

You smile, so sleepy, caressing his perfect face. “Satoru, you’re amazing, brilliant, great at so much, but you have to learn, you can’t just fix people, you have to accept them.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just…” He swallows, resting his head on yours, and you’re dying to kiss him, to feel his mouth take you over, he is your drug.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. What I did, it was not okay. I talked to Sugu a long time last night, blitzed the fuck out. What I did was horrible, you needed me to comfort you, and I made it all worse.”

“Yeah. You did.” He exhales, smirking just a bit.

“You’re brutally honest.”

“You like that, I think.” You lean your chin up, noses brushing, lips just that bit apart, killing you both.

“I love it, I love that you have your convictions, your emotions, I love so fucking much about you. I know I didn’t show that.”

“No, you didn’t. But… Thank you for that.” You pull back a bit, taking a breath. “I don’t trust myself around you, I’ll falter, I’ll give in. And Satoru I have to…”

“You have to be a priority.”

“That, I’ve never been.” Your phone starts going off again, you check it and frown, making Satoru curious, but he knows he shouldn’t pry. “Case in point, my other stupid ex.”

He glares at your phone, then looks up at you, softer, concern in his gaze, mixed with self loathing. “You have bad taste.”

“Satoru, not you. There’s so much good here.” You put a gentle brush of your lips on his now, easing back as his eyelids lower, as his grip slips higher. “I want to fall into this, into you. You’re my own Xanax.”

“I’m that good?” He smirks, and you laugh softly. “You still haven’t even asked, why I’m on it all.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head, enjoying the heat of his hard body against yours too much. “It’s not my place right now. I should go.”

“Yeah…” Please don’t go, please.

Something pauses you, and you hug him then, he hugs you back tightly, and you kiss him once more, exhaling against his lips. “Don’t give up on it.”

“I sure fucking won’t. I win at everything you know.” You snort at that, a smile brightening your beautiful face, making him melt for you.

“We’ll see about it. Take care, Satoru, please drive safely in this?”

“I will. You get some sleep.” He wishes he could come inside, in your warm, cozy home, and hold you, but he knows he can’t.

Yet.

Satoru won’t give up.

You wave at him before you get inside, the overwhelming, exhausting past week eating you alive, and you’re stumbling when Toge sees you. He walks up quickly, concern clear in his violet eyes, hands on your shoulders. “Okay?”

You break then, shaking your head and sniffling. “No, m’not, Toge.”

Toge holds you then, as you sob against him, and soon Maki and Yuuta are out there too, all rubbing your back, your hair, as you can’t stop crying. It’s too much, not being with him, the hurt he caused, the fears you have. The past days, losing that little baby, losing so many, losing your fucking mind.

“I’m so tired, you guys, of all of it.” You barely speak, barely hold it together, as they all gently speak.

“No, you got this baby, I swear. If it’s not Gojo. if he’s not the one for you, guess what? You’ll be okay, we’re here for you, either way.” Maki says softly, and you nod, sniffling now.

“You have to do what’s best for you, don’t feel guilty.” Yuuta says, and Toge’s giving you the saddest look of all.

“Hurting.” You nod quickly, hugging him again.

“Don’t you run from me, please.” You say softly, as he strokes your back. “I need you all.”

“Not running.” He assures you, with a sweet smile, and you feel so at home with them, but something’s missing.

Satoru is missing.

How has he become everything so quickly?

But soon Maki is getting you a glass of wine, and Toge has cookies for everyone, Yuuta is putting on your favorite movie. And as you’re cuddled with your best friends on your old couch, so comfy and worn in, it almost feels perfect. You’re blessed to have them, warm with the fire going, while the snow falls outside. But you can’t help but look out the window.

“I love him, fuck.” You whisper softly.

“We know.” Maki says, you snuggle back up to her, curling up and letting her rub your hair.

“I love you three so much. Don’t leave me, even if I’m a mess.”

“We’re not going anywhere. Shh, just relax.”

Sleep doesn’t hit for Satoru that night, not when he stares at your number over and over with your picture in his phone, not when he thinks of the date he had ready on that fairy boat for you, not when he thinks of you in his home. He stares at that damn piano, remembering kissing you on that bench.

But he was selfish, he was pushy, he ruined such a beautiful thing before it began.

Satoru knows now, he needs you, like he needs to breathe, and he knows by looking in your eyes, you feel it, though you’re now terrified. He was so afraid of pushing you away, that he did just that. As he sips down a whiskey and pops a seroquel, he hopes it will take him to sleep soon, blissful dreamless sleep where he won’t have to feel this pain.

Satoru looks out the window, watching the snowfall and wondering if you’re okay, before the sleeping meds take him out. But it doesn’t prevent those dreams, it only makes them more vivid, and he wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating, panicking. He calls you, knowing you won’t answer, but he hears it.

A sleepy ‘hmm?’

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

“Shh. Satoru… s’okay… shhh…”

He lets tears fall as he sets the phone on speaker. “Will you… let me hear you breathe? So I can sleep?”

“Hmm, you’re weird Doc.” He snorts through his tears, and you sleepily wonder if this is a dream on your end. “But mkay.”

He soon hears your steady breathing, and he finally can sleep, mind whirling with ways he can earn you, while you listen to his little sigh, hand gripping the phone, picturing him in your mind’s eyes. “Night, beautiful.”

“Night S’toru.”

Two hearts are alone but still connected, as both wonder what the exhaustion of tomorrow would hold, and beyond the doubt, they hope.

I know this was an angsty/darker chapter, but it will get more lighthearted and will have a happy ending, but we gotta go through some rough stuff to get there (Satoru won't be a Hojo again dw lol)

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