#he loves everything about her ALL THE TIME

[thebestsetter]

"Men used to go to war, now they..."

Isagi Yoichi

...follow you around like a lost puppy.

Need to cook something? Yoichi can help! (Not really, since he doesn't know batshit about cooking and burns everything he touches, but it's the thought that counts, right?) Are you going out? No problem! He's gonna sit put and still on the edge of your shared bed, watching with a fond look as you rummage through your wardrobe trying to find the perfect clothes to go out! (Even though he thinks all of them look perfect on you) Need help shopping? He's already holding all of your bags for you! (Even if he looks ridiculous holding so many bags, but he refuses to let you touch a single one of them). In the end, he's just a lovesick boy who loves acts of service and some good old quality time, so just let him follow you around, yeah?

Chigiri Hyoma

...gossip and do skincare with you.

He literally hates the girls you talk about without even meeting them in real life. Like, what do you mean that Penelope lady cheated on her husband because he was on a 20 days trip? Ridiculous.

Anyways, skincares are a must in your relationship. You guys do it everynight, and, when he's away (for soccer reasons), you facetime to do it. It became a little tradition: he calls you the night before an important game, askijg if you already treated your skin. Then, when you say that you didn't, his eyes visibly, clearly - and a little comically too - light up (even though he already knew the answer. It's the same one everytime. You never do it without him). After that, you both just talk and laugh, trying to calm his nerves down before the game. Most of the times, the call only ends when one of you end up falling asleep. It's honestly cute how comfortable you are with eachother.

He swears he plays better when you do that. His many hat tricks can confirm that.

Nagi seishiro

...can't sleep if it isn't on your lap.

He physically can't anymore, and it makes him pissed.

His sweet pillows that looked oh so comfortable before must as well feel like rocks right now, because NOTHING compares to the fluffiness of your lap mixed with you petting his head. He feels like he's in heaven everytime you do it. He HATES when he's travelling and has to sleep on a 5 star hotel's bed, because how is it SO uncomfortable?? What the heck??

And you can BET the first thing he does when he comes home after his soccef trips is sleep. For a long time. Like, "hibernating" kind of long. One time, you seriously thought he was dead. But it was just the effect your lap has on him. Deal with it.

Reo Mikage

... spend an unholy amount of money on you.

This isn't even surprising. I mean, it's Reo we're talking about: the boy who has more money than what to do with it. And his financial situation obviously reflects on your relationship.

Looked at that hair product for 0.2 seconds more than the last product you saw? He already bought it! Want ice cream? He'll have 4 scoops, please!

The thing is that he was taught money=love (especially by his parents, who tried to make up for their absence by giving him money), so that's what he thought would swoop you off your feet. But it wasn't. It was the tender moments, the gentle kisses on your knuckles, and the goals dedicated to you. So don't think he only gives you money - he gives you PLENTY of quality time too!

Perhaps a part 2 will be written

[strwberri-milk]

can i request the boys thinking mc is cheating bc she’s been acting off and hanging with other people, then they confront her but learn later that it’s something else that’s been going on (like her wanting to keep a problem hidden from them) angsty or fluffy ending it’s up to you im just craving angst 😓

Zayne doesn't want to directly confront you. He's terrified that somehow, he'll mess everything up and that right now, not knowing is better than confirming his fear. He'll just continue observing you for a bit, trying to figure out if there's something that can definitively point towards you actually having an affair. Your behaviour is strange but he won't feel too concerned until you start actively pulling affection away from him. That's when he's going to really start panicking. He doesn't know what he's done or said to make you take such a drastic step in your relationship and this is absolutely going to devastate him.

He'll talk to you one evening after you come home late. He tries to open it up by telling you that if it's something he's said or done to you then he's sorry and he promises he'll do whatever it takes to fix things between the two of you. It's you, and it's always been you. He can't even fathom being with anybody that isn't you. He'll ramble a little for once, not really able to accurately use his words as he tries to express how much he loves you.

You realise very quickly where he's going with all of this, immediately shutting him down as you tell him that you aren't seeing somebody else. He listens with bated breath to try and comprehend everything you're telling him, praying that you aren't lying to him because if you were, it'd definitely break him.

You'd probably have to ruin the surprise if you wanted him to feel fully secure after this conversation, especially since you also were hanging off of people when you normally don't seem to. He might feel a little insecure about your relationship for a while before settling into the routine again with you, but as long as you're wholly honest with him it'll pass fairly quickly.

Xavier wants to follow you around but he also knows it'd piss you off if he did. He'll just start paying more attention to events when the two of you are together and even more attention to things if it seems you're purposefully not inviting him to something. He's trying to understand why and what for, not wanting to directly accuse you but his jealousy definitely ramps up.

You'd have to talk to him as he slowly starts to escalate, becoming more pissy if you have plans with friends or when he responds poorly to you taking calls in his presence. He doesn't really say too much but he does make it very clear just how displeased he is with the look on his face or the way he practically grabs you whenever you're doing things with him.

He gets a little rougher with you overall - not in a painful way, in a distracted, irritated way. He doesn't want to hurt you on purpose and typically you don't really respond to this difference in pressure because it's nothing crazy but you can tell that he's starting to really internalise everything that's happening around him. When you do talk to him he listens with a furrow in his brow, trying to figure out if you're telling him the truth, or this is some elaborate lie for you to throw him off your scent.

He believes you pretty quickly but he is also going to be really skeevy about letting you do things without him for a bit. He just wants to spend time with you after all and after all this emotional turmoil you owe him a few stress-free dates.

Rafayel is not pleased. He makes it clear the second he thinks something is wrong by being colder and less affectionate with you. He isn't wholly above following you and figuring out who you're hanging out with, trying to figure out if there really is a chance that you are trying to have an affair.

You'd get some emotional whiplash from how differently he's acting, how he's making it clear that you've wronged him somehow but he isn't going to talk to you about it. He's avoidant, waiting for you to admit the truth. He's also patient, which means you could be iced out for weeks if you decide not to talk to him about what's happening.

He might spoil the surprise for himself if he goes fully into surveillance after which he'd just tell you that he figured out what you were hiding from him. You'd be a little disappointed but also more concerned as to how he managed to figure it out without tipping you off. He won't tell you at all about how he got the information - just that he did.

If he decides not to stalk you a little you'd have to ask him why he's so mad at you. He'd tell you that he's just treating you the same way you've been treating him, and that as far as he's concerned, this is deserved. You'd have to tell him the truth and why you've been hiding all this information from him - after which he will brighten up significantly. He'll say something about how he's never doubted you, yadda yadda yadda but he's definitely more clingy now than before from his nerves finally starting to settle.

Sylus doesn't want to monitor you either and decides to give you the benefit of the doubt. He's fairly secure in your relationship and knows that he hasn't done anything to make you want to cheat but he does feel himself faltering if you're becoming prone to laughing at your phone or trying to hide it from him. He won't ask for it but you can see that he's starting to get suspicious.

He would leave it alone until you reveal to him your surprise. By then he's still feeling fairly anxious but when you reveal that your behaviour was all just a result of you trying to plan something for him then he'll relax a little, thanking you for the effort you went through. You can tell that he's very glad that you've finally come clean when he holds your hand tightly, practically clinging to you as he thanks you.

He'll plan some more elaborate dates for you after the reveal, making it clear that he's missed your attention being solely on him. You don't really mind though since he's basically throwing money at you, spoiling you silly and reminding you just how much he's willing to do for you.

[leaderwonim]

THE WORLD NEVER ENDED | JACK HUGHES

pairing. jack hughes x fem!reader (ft. platonic quinn & luke hughes x fem!reader + male!oc x fem!reader)

genre. childhood best friends to lovers, ANGST, fluff, hurt to comfort, reader & jack are both 18-19 in this!

synopsis: Y/N and Jack Hughes have been inseparable since childhood, spending every summer at his family’s lake house—until his hockey career takes off and leaves her behind. As Jack’s life moves forward and Y/N tries to do the same, the distance between them grows in ways neither of them expected. But when their paths cross again at a breaking point, they’re forced to confront everything they never said and the feelings that never really went away.

The lake house never changes. It still smells like pine and sunscreen, the same old dock creaking under your feet, the same late summer breeze curling through the trees. But this time, you’re the only one here.

You let the beer bottle dangle from your fingers, the glass sweating against your palm as you stare at the still water. It’s late. Too late to be out here alone, and your mom would probably kill you if she found out you were underage drinking, but you’ve been doing this since you were kids—sneaking down to the dock past midnight, toes dipping into the water, whispering about everything and nothing at all.

Except this time, Jack isn’t here. Not really. Not anymore.

The last time you saw him was months ago, after another whirlwind season, after Team USA, after everything. He’d come back, same easy smile, same stupidly messy hair, same Jack. And yet, he wasn’t.

He moved too fast, talked too much about things you weren’t a part of, laughed at jokes from teammates you didn’t know. He had an entire life outside of this town, this lake, this dock. A life that didn’t include you.

It wasn’t his fault though, you couldn’t blame Jack for being excited about this whole new chapter in his life, not when he’s worked his ass off so he could secure a spot in the NHL in the future.

You took a shaky breath, watching as the wind blew the waters back and forth, your thought raced with Jack, Jack, Jack. It wasn’t anything new; you had been in love with him since you had learned what the word love even was, when Ellen and your mom teased you two endlessly after your eighth birthday, declaring that you’d two get married when you were older.

And then he left, at age fourteen to go train at some hockey camp over the summer and you started seeing him less and less. Then he left again for USA Hockey, and all that was left of him was the little times he’d pop up on your screen for a FaceTime, or a quick selfie.

You never told him that it felt like the world had ended whenever he left.

❥

The first time you met Jack Hughes, he was seven years old, standing knee-deep in the lake, grinning like he had owned the world.

“You scared to jump in?” he teases, squinting up at you from where he’s splashing around.

You cross your arms, standing barefoot on the dock, the sun burning hot against your skin. “I just don’t wanna get my hair wet.”

Jack laughs like you just said the funniest thing in the world, and before you can react, he launches a handful of water in your direction. It splashes against your legs, cool and shocking, and you gasp.

“You jerk!” you shriek, but Jack’s already laughing, already diving into the water, swimming just far enough out of reach that you can’t get him back.

You don’t know it then, but that’s how it starts.

The Hughes family’s lake house becomes your second home. Your parents are close friends with Ellen and Jim, and summers are spent tangled in sunburns, mosquito bites, and the smell of bonfires. Jack, being just a few months older, quickly becomes your shadow—or maybe you become his.

You race bikes down dirt paths, climb trees until your hands are covered in splinters, and stay up late whispering under blanket forts in the Hughes’ living room, trying not to wake Luke and Quinn.

“You think we’ll still be best friends when we’re older?” you ask one night, voice sleepy, cheek smushed against your arm.

Jack frowns at you, like you just said something ridiculous. “Duh. Who else am I supposed to hang out with? My brothers?”

You grin brightly, shoving him. “You promise?”

He holds out his pinky. “Promise.”

And that’s that.

As you both get older, things don’t really change. Not at first.

Winters are spent at the Hughes’ house in Michigan, watching Jack skate for hours at the rink, your fingers numb from gripping a hot chocolate too tight. Summers are still for the lake house, where the days blur together in a haze of sun, water, and laughter.

Jack is your best friend. The one who sneaks you extra s’mores when the adults say no. The one who ties your skates when your fingers are too cold. The one who always picks you first for street hockey, even when Luke complains about it. The one who knows everything about you.

And you know everything about him, too.

That he gets grumpy when he’s hungry. That he has to listen to music before every game, or else he feels off. That he’s already dreaming about the NHL, about Team USA, about everything that seems so far away but somehow already feels like it’s coming too fast.

You don’t realize when things do start changing.

Maybe it’s when Jack turns fourteen and starts spending more time away at tournaments. Maybe it’s when you turn fourteen and realize your heart speeds up whenever he looks at you a certain way.

Maybe it’s the summer you turn fifteen and see him talking to a girl from town, and something ugly coils in your stomach. You don’t say anything, though. You can’t.

Jack is your best friend. That’s all. Even if you wish it wasn’t.

When Jack is sixteen, everything does change.

It’s the Fourth of July. The lake house is packed, fireworks already popping in the distance. You and Jack sneak away from the party like you always do, climbing onto the dock and lying side by side, watching the sky.

“You excited for the USA team?” you ask, your voice light, like the thought of him leaving doesn’t make your chest ache.

Jack turns his head to look at you. “Yeah,” he says. “Kinda nervous, though.”

You smile a little, the same smile that had reassured Jack every time he saw it. “You’ll be fine.”

He shifts closer, his arm brushing yours. “You think so?”

“Of course,” you whisper. “You’re Jack Hughes.”

He laughs, but it’s softer this time, almost hesitant. The air between you feels different, thicker, heavier. His fingers twitch on the dock beside yours, and for a second, you swear he’s about to reach for your hand.

But then he exhales sharply, sits up. “We should get back.”

And just like that, the moment is gone.

You stare at the fireworks exploding in the sky, feeling like something inside you is breaking.

Jack leaves for Team USA at the end of the summer.

And you don’t know it yet, but nothing will ever be the same again.

❥

At first, you still talk all the time. He calls after practices, FaceTimes you from hotel rooms, sends you stupid selfies from road trips. And for a while, it almost feels normal. Almost.

But then the calls get shorter. The messages come slower.

You see his name on headlines, hear people at school talking about him like he’s some distant star instead of the boy you grew up with. And suddenly, he feels… far away.

Not just in distance. In everything.

And then one day, you realize you don’t remember the last time he called.

You don’t text him, either. You figured he was too busy anyways—too busy with hockey, with interviews, too busy for you.

His absence leaves a hollow space inside you, one you don’t know how to fill. So you try.

That’s how you end up with him.

Aiden West. Star quarterback. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy smile and dimples that should make your heart flutter.

You meet at a party—one you only went to because your friends dragged you out of your house, tired of you spending your nights holed up in your room, pretending you weren’t waiting for a text that never came.

Aidan’s nice. He’s funny. He buys you drinks and calls you baby and kisses you like he means it.

You tell yourself this is good. That this is what you need.

But when he holds your hand, it doesn’t feel the same. When he kisses you, you don’t melt the way you think you should. And when you close your eyes, it’s not Aidan you see.

It’s Jack. Always Jack.

Quinn comes home in December.

You’re not expecting to see him, not really. Ever since he was drafted, he spent all his time in Vancouver, busy with his own life, his own team. But one night, you walk into the Hughes’ house, and there he is, sprawled on the couch like he never left.

“Quinn?” you blink.

He smirks, sitting up. “Hey, kid.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. “You’re, like, a few years older than me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” he teases, but then his expression softens. “How’ve you been?”

You shrug. “Good.”

He gives you a look, like he can see right through you. Because of course he can.

Quinn has always been quieter than Jack, more observant. He was the one who bandaged your scraped knees when you and Jack were too reckless, the one who ruffled your hair when you had a bad day, the one who watched you grow up and somehow always knew what you were feeling before you even said it.

And right now, you can tell he knows you’re lying.

“You still talk to Jack?” he asks casually.

You stiffen. “Not really.”

Quinn nods, like that’s what he expected. “He’s been busy.”

“I know,” you say quickly, too quickly. “It’s fine.”

He studies you for a moment. Then, his eyebrows furrow. “You dating that football guy?”

You hesitate. “Yeah. Kinda.”

Quinn tilts his head, his expression unreadable. “You like him?”

You swallow. “He’s… nice.”

Quinn leans back, crossing his arms. “You know, I’ve seen you happy before.”

You furrow your brows. “And?”

“And that’s not what you look like right now.”

The words hit deeper than you want them to. You look away, staring at your hands.

Quinn sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. If you like the guy, great. But don’t force something that isn’t real just because—” He pauses.

You glance up. “Just because what?”

Quinn meets your eyes, and for the first time, his voice is gentle. “Just because Jack hurt you.”

Your throat tightens.

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what to say.

Because he’s right. And maybe that’s the worst part of all.

❥

Aidan is kind when he breaks up with you.

That almost makes it worse.

You can tell he’s been thinking about it for a while. The way he exhales before he starts speaking, the way his hands stay tucked into the pocket of his hoodie like he’s afraid if he moves too much, you’ll see how much this is bothering him.

“You’re not really here, Y/N,” he says, voice steady but laced with something bitter, something tired.

You don’t argue, because you know he’s right.

He sighs, shaking his head. “I like you. I really do. But I deserve someone who looks at me like I’m the only one they’re thinking about.”

Your stomach twists.

“Aidan—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts in, forcing a small smile. “I knew. I think I always did.” He swallows, glancing away before meeting your eyes again. “It was never gonna be me, was it?”

You want to tell him you tried. That you wanted to feel something more, something real. But the truth is, no matter how hard you tried, he was never Jack.

And that was never fair to him.

So instead, you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He nods, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Yeah. Me too.”

A few days pass, and you still feel hollow, like you’re floating through life without really being in it.

You don’t know why you still go to the Hughes’ house. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe it’s because it still feels like home, even when things don’t feel the same anymore.

Maybe it’s because, deep down, you just need someone who knows you.

Luke opens the door, and before you can even say anything, his face twists in concern.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

You pause. “What?”

Luke steps aside to let you in, closing the door behind you. “You have your sad face on.”

You frown. “Luke Hughes, I do not have a—”

“You totally do,” he interrupts, flopping onto the couch. He gestures for you to sit next to him, and after a moment, you do.

There’s a beat of silence before he says, “Quinn told me everything.”

You freeze. “Everything?”

Luke gives you a knowing look. “Yeah. And I’m not an idiot, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at Jack since we were kids.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Luke sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Look, I know he messed up. Jack is kind of known for that. And I know you’re hurt. But…” He hesitates. “You still love him, don’t you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Luke—”

“Just be honest,” he says gently.

Your throat tightens. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.”

Luke nods like he already knew that was coming. Then he pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

You frown. “What’s this?”

“Tickets,” he says simply.

You blink. “Tickets?”

“To Jack’s game against Finland.” His voice is casual, but there’s something behind it—something careful, like he knows he’s walking a fine line. “I was gonna go, but I think you should instead.”

Your heart stops.

“Luke…”

“Don’t overthink it,” he says quickly. “Just go. See him. Talk to him.”

You stare at the tickets in his hand, your pulse pounding in your ears.

This is a choice. A chance.

And to be completely honest, you aren’t sure if you’re ready.

❥

You end up deciding not to go until the last minute.

The plane ticket burns in your hands, Luke’s voice echoing in your head: Just go. See him. Talk to him.

So you do. You land in Finland, stomach in knots, trying not to think about what you’ll even say to him. If he’ll even want to see you.

But then the game happens. And Jack loses.

The scoreboard tells you everything—3-2, Finland. A brutal, heartbreaking end.

Jack stays on the ice, shoulders hunched, wiping his face as the Finnish players celebrate around him. You can see the way he’s blinking rapidly, how hard he’s trying to hold it together.

It doesn’t work.

By the time he’s in the tunnel for postgame interviews, it’s like the weight of everything finally crashes over him. The cameras capture everything; his red-rimmed eyes, the way his lips tremble when he speaks, the way his voice wavers when he says, “I feel like I let everyone down.”

Your heart cracks wide open. You don’t think. You just go.

You push through the lingering crowd, through the halls of the arena, heart racing. And then—there he is.

Jack is leaning against the wall, head bowed, gripping a water bottle so tightly his knuckles are white. His shoulders shake slightly, like he’s trying to get a grip, but he’s losing the battle.

You inhale sharply, willing yourself forward.

“Jack.”

His head snaps up, eyes widening. And for a second, he just stares.

Like he doesn’t believe you’re real.

“Y/N?” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

You nod, stepping closer. But before you can say anything else, Jack clears his throat and quickly swipes at his face, straightening up like he’s trying to compose himself.

Then he blurts out, “How’s Aidan?”

You freeze.

Jack lets out a broken laugh, looking down. “Quinn told me you had a boyfriend,” he mutters, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I—uh, I’m happy for you. You deserve that.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening. “Jack—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts, still not looking at you. “I always wanted you to be happy.”

He sniffles, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his eyes. He looks exhausted. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen before.

And suddenly, it’s too much.

The space between you. The months of silence. The fact that he still doesn’t know the truth.

You move before you can stop yourself, closing the gap and wrapping your arms around him.

Jack stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath.

But then—slowly, so slowly—it’s like something inside him gives in.

His hands grip your back, his face pressing into your shoulder, and he melts.

You feel his shaky exhale against your neck. The way his fingers curl into the jersey you’re wearing with his name on the back, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll disappear.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel whole again.

“I don’t—” Jack’s voice cracks. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

Your throat tightens. “Then don’t. Just just let me be here.”

Jack exhales shakily, nodding against you. “Okay.”

Despite your reassurance, he still feels like he’s falling.

The weight of the loss, the pressure, the expectations, it’s all crashing over him, relentless and suffocating. But in the middle of it all, there’s you.

And when you pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, he realizes you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

Your hands stay on his face, thumbs brushing against his damp skin, and there’s something in your expression, something soft and certain that makes his chest ache.

Then you move closer, tilting your head, and suddenly, suddenly—your lips press against his.

Jack stills.

Then, all at once, he melts into you.

His hands slide to your waist, gripping onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him standing. Your lips are soft, warm, familiar, but new at the same time, like something that was always supposed to happen but never did.

It feels like breathing again. Like finally getting it right.

But then, Jack realizes and he blinks, something clicking in his mind as he pulls back abruptly, still holding onto you but panting slightly.

“Wait,” he says, voice hoarse. “Aidan.”

You shake your head quickly. “We broke up.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

You exhale, your hands sliding from his face to his wrists, squeezing lightly. “Jack, I tried to move on. I tried so hard.” Your voice wavers. “But it was never him. It was always you.”

Jack’s lips part slightly, his breath hitching.

Then, suddenly, he laughs—a broken, disbelieving sound before his face crumples, his eyes shining again.

And just like that, he’s crying.

He presses his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut as his grip on your waist tightens.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted you to say that,” he whispers, his voice shaking.

You smile softly, brushing his hair back. “I think I do.”

Jack lets out a shaky exhale, his hands fisting the fabric of your jersey, like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go. But you don’t.

Because after everything—after the distance, the silence, the missed chances—you’re still here.

He sniffles, pulling you into another tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder.

❥

Later, when the chaos dies down and the arena empties, you end up in Jack’s car.

The heater hums softly, filling the silence, the city lights casting faint shadows across the dashboard.

Jack sits in the driver’s seat, head tilted against the headrest, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. You’re next to him, legs curled up on the seat, leaning against his shoulder.

It’s quiet.

Not awkward. Not heavy. Just comfortable.

Jack sighs, nudging his cheek against your hair. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

You smile faintly, reaching for his hand. “Me neither.”

He squeezes your fingers, his grip warm and sure. “I thought I lost you.”

You shake your head, squeezing back. “You never did.”

Jack exhales, his body relaxing against yours, and for the first time in a long time, hfeels whole again.

❥

The lake house feels the same the next summer.

The scent of pine and sunscreen still lingers in the air, the dock still creaks under your feet, and the water still glistens under the late afternoon sun. But this time, Jack is here. And this time, he’s yours.

He had turned freshly nineteen last month, but still was the same annoying boy you had known since you were seven.

You sit on the old wooden dock, legs stretched out, the warm breeze tangling your hair. Jack is lying beside you, one arm draped lazily over his forehead, his other hand resting on your knee, tracing absentminded patterns over your skin.

It’s quiet, just the sound of the water lapping against the shore and the occasional laughter from inside the house, where Quinn and Luke are probably chirping each other over something stupid.

Jack sighs, turning his head to look at you. “I missed this.”

You smile, threading your fingers through his. “Me too.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes soft, warm, completely yours. Then, without a word, he tugs you down so you’re lying next to him, your head resting on his chest.

“You know,” he muses, fingers trailing up and down your back, “last summer, I thought I’d never get this back.”

You inhale slowly, letting his heartbeat ground you. “Me too.”

Jack tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But we made it.”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, smiling. “We did.”

He grins, the kind that makes your heart skip a beat, then flips you onto your back, hovering over you with that look—the one that reminds you he’s still the same Jack, the same boy who used to splash you in the lake, who used to steal your s’mores when you weren’t looking, who used to be your best friend before he was everything.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Luke’s voice echoes from the house, and you both groan.

Jack turns his head, scowling. “Luke, I swear—”

Quinn’s voice cuts in. “Let them be, Luke. They suffered enough.”

You laugh as Jack rolls his eyes. “I hate that he’s right.”

You shake your head, pulling Jack back down. “Just kiss me already.”

He smirks. “Gladly.”

And as his lips meet yours, the sun dips below the horizon and the lake glistens around you, making you realize everything is exactly the way it’s meant to be.

It isn’t until Luke pretends to fake barf that Jack removes himself away from you, opting to chase down his little brother.

“Boys, am I right?” Quinn says, giving you a grin.

You wrap your arms around him, never feeling as whole as you did now.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"ONE STEP TWO STEP THREE STEP OW!"

Synopsis: Young weird Neglected black!reader can't waltz and Bruce won't dance with you but Mr. Oliver Queen can teach you a few moves

You love galas, like really, really love galas: the architecture of the buildings, which could look Roman or Victorian; the bright chandeliers that glimmer like little stars; the intricate details on every piece of furniture and wall-to-door; the gold accents and trim. It's all just perfect. It feels like you're a princess on a special stage, like you're in a musical and you're the lead star, ready to burst into song after only two lines and do a comedic dance number. The men and women dressed elegantly, with jewels and watches from their great-great-grandparents that they took for granted, replacing heirlooms like loose change. Speaking in posh accents over champagne, they talked about their trips around the world or petty politics, using big words they never used before. It just makes you giggle, but you loved nothing more than the band's music. You'd clap after every performance, and the composer would always take a bow for you. But the thing you loved most of all was the dancing—how the women's dresses would sway as they waltzed and how the men would spin the ladies around adoringly. It was like you were living in the movie Anastasia. And you wanted to dance, to move like them, but you never knew how. It's only been a couple of months since you were integrated into this aristocratic lifestyle, and yet you know every little. Alfred tried to teach you everything there was to being classy, but the old man was far too busy teaching the boys how to behave at galas, so you had to work it out on your own. Alfred taught you a few waltz steps, but not the whole thing, so when it came to dancing, you were hopeless, like a duckling with feet too big for its body. But when the announcer at the gala told the fathers to dance with their daughters, you thought this was your shot—your shot to dance with Bruce, for him to teach you the moves, for you two to bond like you were meant to. I mean, you are his little girl; he should be running to you right about now, ready to put your little feet on top of his as he guides you and teaches you how to waltz. But Bruce doesn't show up. You looked around to see that every little girl and older girl was holding her dad's hand, stepping on his toes, and twirling around like princesses, except you. Everyone had a partner except you. You pushed past the happy fathers and daughters to find him, only to see that he had picked someone else. He was doing the waltz with Cass; they were laughing as she struggled to grasp the steps. You couldn't hear what they were saying due to the chatter of the room, but you knew they were having the time of their lives. But that didn't bother you; you would just wait for your turn, like a kid on a swing set watching the other kids take their merry-old-time. You can just wait and wait and wait, staring at the two. They looked so happy and energetic. You wouldn't lie; you were a tad bit jealous. I mean, you were younger than Cass; you were his little girl; you should have had that dance, not her. But jealousy wouldn't take you anywhere; you just had to wait your turn. They almost looked related; maybe it was the dark black hair or the pale skin. You looked at yourself and began to feel like an outcast. You nervously fixed your dress, pulling at the purple frills. Almost everyone in the blow room was white. Maybe Bruce just didn't want to be seen with you; maybe he was embarrassed. You shook your head— that couldn’t be the reason. Don’t be stupid; just be patient. Yeah, that's right—patient. You can be patient. But as you watched Cass lean her head on his shoulder, it should be you. You saw Bruce place his chin on her hair, and if you weren't jealous before, you certainly were now. You waited long enough, so you walked up to them and tugged on Bruce's suit.

"Hey," you squeaked, your voice sounding like a mouse. You started to fiddle with your fingers.

"I was waiting a bit, and I wanted to know if I could dance with you," you mumbled gently. He looked down at you; blue eyes shining like bright diamonds.

"Not right now, [Name]." He dismissed you like a secretary at Wayne Enterprises.

"But it's a father-daughter dance, and I've been waiting for a while now." Your voice trembled, and you started to feel yourself get angry.

"[Name], you're starting to act childish," he whispered. When he whispered like that, he was trying to hide his anger.

"But I've been waiting for an hour; it's just not fair," You saw him glare at you and stopped talking. You felt yourself shrink, getting smaller and smaller, but you weren't shrinking; you were just getting scared.

You stormed off walking right out the gala you felt angry furious even then you felt a familiar clench in your throat it was strong so very strong it made you want to cough you knew thar feeling better then anyone else you were going to cry so sat you sat on the pearly white steps and let those baby tears flow then you felt a rough hand on your shoulder you yelped out in fear and you swiftly moved away looking up from the ground to see a tall blonde hair man with bright emerald green eyes

"Hey, I don't bite," he chuckled, standing tall in front of you. You still kept your distance and sat down on the steps.

"So why are you out here all alone while everyone's having fun?" he said with a soft smile. You wiped your face and puffed out your chest, trying to look tough, but you were just a girl, and plus, he was a stranger. You shouldn't talk to strangers, but you were lonely, and your "dad" would rather dance with Cass than you.

"I was supposed to have a daddy-daughter dance with my dad, but he's too busy dancing with my older sister," you sniffled, grumbling just a little.

"Oh, you want to dance? Don't you think it's a bit silly?" he asked, and it made you frown.

"It's not silly!" You raised your voice, then lowered it to a whisper.

"It's lovely—the music, the fancy steps. It's all just lovely, like being in a movie," you explained, hugging your knees to your chest.

"Tonight, he was going to teach me how to waltz," you huffed. You heard the blonde man chuckle. How dare he make fun of you! You were about to let out a mean quip when he spoke.

"You can't waltz?" he said, holding back a chuckle and covering his mouth with a hand that looked calloused and rough, as if he'd been hitting drywall.

"Don't laugh!" you whined, annoyed.

"I'm not; it's just super easy to do," the older man said with a smirk.

"Well, I wouldn't know; I've never done it before." You felt a pout coming, and you quickly tried to hide it.

"Wait, you've never waltzed before?" he said, looking at you confusedly. Someone of your status should at least know the basics.

"Never" you answered

"Never ever?"

"Never in history." You felt yourself wanting to cry. Then he smiled down at you and stood up.

"Come on, I'll teach you. There are no perks to being a wallflower." His hands reached out, and you saw the little scars on his hand. With nothing better to do, you took his, and he led you back into the gala. He held your hand and hip gently.

"All you have to do is step in the square," he intruded, and you followed his steps from down to side, to up, and side to down again. Then he twirled you around, making you giggle. You felt like a princess, finally, until you stepped on his foot. He winced, and it made you snort. He gave you a fake glare, the older man smirking.

"You never told me your name?"

"You never told me yours?" he said, and you glared at him.

"I'm [Name], [Name] Wayne," you answered confidently.

"A Wayne?" he said, shocked.

"What's wrong with being a Wayne?" You huffed.

"Nothing. I don't get along with Wayne very well; they tend to get on my nerves," he admitted with a sigh.

"Tell me about it," you agreed.

"Anyway, I'm Oliver Queen's friend. Call me Ollie, and your dad calls me a bastard," and you laughed.

"Nice to meet you, Ollie," you smiled up at him gently. You wondered if you should switch dads like playing cards. Little did you know, Bruce was in the corner seething at the sight of Ollie making you laugh and giggle and twirling you around. He almost broke his champagne glass. He didn't want to cause a scene, but he was close to crashing out and having it be posted on Twitter. He was searching for you, ready to apologize and give you your dance, but there you were, letting someone like Oliver have the dance. He'll make sure to deal with that blonde later.

[goldfades]

crazy cat people───joe burrow⁹

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.4k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and joe had always been cat people—dogs were just too high maintenance, too needy. but you were never in a hurry to get cats until one night, joe finds a cat on a roadie and decides to bring her home.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | literally nothing but cat dad joe, and dog slander (JK!! not really, but we all know joe likes cats better). inspired by this clip.

The thing about Joe is that he’s always been a cat person.

You figured it out on your second date when the conversation somehow derailed into a passionate debate about why people automatically assume dogs are superior. It started off as a joke—some exaggerated takes for the sake of banter—but then Joe hit you with a well-structured argument about the independent nature of cats, their low-maintenance lifestyle, and the way they choose their people rather than blindly loving everyone.

“You ever seen a cat follow some random stranger home just ‘cause they waved at it? No. That’s some dog behavior.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “No self-respect.”

That was the moment you knew he was the one.

Well, not actually, but it definitely solidified your interest. Three years later, the two of you were still going strong, bound together by an undeniable connection, a deep understanding of each other’s quirks, and a shared stance that dogs—while undeniably adorable—were just a little too much. Too excitable. Too dependent. Too… needy.

“We’d be cat people,” you had declared one night while curled up on the couch together, his arm draped lazily around you. “Like, if we were to get a pet.”

Joe hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, but I feel like we’d be picky about it. Can’t just have any cat. Gotta be one with personality.”

“A little bit of an asshole,” you added.

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

Despite countless conversations about what you’d name your hypothetical future cat (the list had ranged from elegant, sophisticated names like Theodora to complete chaos like Little Shit), you never actually got one. Between Joe’s insane schedule and your own busy life, it never felt like the right time. You weren’t the type to impulsively adopt an animal just because it seemed like a cute idea—you took responsibility seriously. Joe was the same way.

But that didn’t stop you from sending him TikToks of cats daily. And it definitely didn’t stop him from pausing the TV anytime a cat appeared in a commercial, just to point and go, “That one’s kinda cool.”

It was just one of those things. A little inside joke, a shared fantasy, a part of your relationship that existed in theory but had yet to materialize.

Until Joe came back from a road trip with something unexpected.

Something small. And furry. And wrapped in the hoodie he had worn on the plane.

A cat.

He met your wide-eyed stare with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, funny story…”

--

It was one of those quiet, in-between days where everything felt a little dull without Joe around. You were used to it by now—his road trips, the stretches of time where you had to keep yourself entertained—but no matter how well you adjusted, the house always felt bigger when he wasn’t in it.

You filled the day the best way you knew how. Running errands, grabbing coffee from the spot down the street, making small talk with the barista who always remembered your order. You spent an unreasonable amount of time in Target, browsing the aisles aimlessly, tossing things into your cart that you definitely didn’t need but convinced yourself were essentials.

A candle? Necessary. A new throw blanket even though you already had five? An investment. A little ceramic dish shaped like a cat’s face? Joe would think it was funny.

By the time you got home, the sun was beginning to set, casting the living room in soft golden light. You went through your usual routine—changing into something comfier, throwing your hair up, and scrolling through your phone while curled up on the couch.

Joe had texted you earlier to say his flight landed on time, but you weren’t sure when he’d actually walk through the door. Traveling always took it out of him, and sometimes he lingered at the facility longer than necessary, just to settle back into the routine of being home.

So when you heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking, you perked up, setting your phone down.

Joe was home.

You stood, stretching a little before padding over to greet him—only to immediately freeze in place.

Because Joe Burrow, your extremely predictable, routine-driven boyfriend, was standing in the doorway holding a cat.

Not a cat carrier. Not a box from the pet store with a new cat inside. No, he was physically holding a cat in his arms, cradling it like some kind of newborn wrapped in the oversized hoodie he had worn on the plane.

“Uh…” You blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. “Joe?”

Joe, looking far too casual for someone who had just walked into your shared home with a whole animal, shot you a sheepish grin.

“So, funny story…” He shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the tiny creature, who—shockingly—seemed completely unbothered.

You didn’t say anything. You just stared. Because what the hell were you supposed to say?

Joe cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels. “I found him at a gas station. In, like… the middle of nowhere.”

Your brain short-circuited. “What?”

“Yeah. Just… chilling. No collar, no tags, nothing.” He looked down at the cat, then back at you, as if that explanation was supposed to justify the fact that he had apparently just kidnapped an animal. “He walked right up to me. Super chill. Thought, you know, maybe he needed a home.”

“You—” You ran a hand down your face, processing. “So you just… took him?”

Joe shrugged, completely unbothered. “No one stopped me.”

You stared at him, then at the cat, then back at him.

The cat—a small, scrappy-looking thing with fluffy black fur and bright green eyes—gave the smallest little stretch before curling back up into the fabric of Joe’s hoodie, as if this was the most natural situation in the world.

A sigh left your lips, half-exasperated, half-amused. “You stole a cat.”

Joe scoffed. “I didn’t steal him. I rescued him.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you check to see if he belonged to anyone?”

Joe paused. “I mean… he was alone.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Well, no one else was around,” Joe defended. “It was late. Freezing cold. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

You crossed your arms, arching a brow. “So your solution was to bring him home?”

Joe, completely unrepentant, grinned. “Yeah. He’s cool, right?”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers against your temples before shaking your head.

This man.

This six-foot-four NFL quarterback who spent three years claiming you guys would be extremely selective about what kind of cat you got, had apparently abandoned all standards the second a gas station stray blinked at him.

And worse? You were already kind of attached.

Because the damn cat was still curled up in his hoodie, looking completely at peace, like he had already decided he belonged here.

You sighed, waving them both inside. “I can’t believe you.”

Joe grinned, stepping past you and into the house, clearly taking that as a win.

“Should we name him?” he asked, already making himself comfortable on the couch, cat still in tow.

You groaned.

“Oh my God.”

The first night with Miss Honey felt strangely natural, like she had always belonged here. Apparently, you guys had been misgendering her the whole time.

After the initial shock of Joe casually waltzing into your home with a stray cat, the two of you got to work making sure she was okay. A quick check revealed she was mostly healthy—just a little underweight and carrying a few ticks, which you carefully removed while Joe held her still, murmuring soft reassurances. Despite being a random cat from a gas station, she was surprisingly chill about it, blinking up at you with those big green eyes like she already trusted you.

“This is insane,” you had muttered, brushing your fingers through her soft fur.

Joe, stretched out on the couch beside you, smirked. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You rolled your eyes because, of course, he was right.

That night, the three of you curled up on the couch and put on Matilda, your mutual comfort movie. Joe made popcorn, you pulled out the throw blanket you had impulse-bought earlier that day, and Miss Honey—named after the warm, soft-spoken teacher you both adored—made herself right at home between you, paws tucked neatly beneath her little body.

“She’s purring,” Joe whispered at one point, as if he was afraid saying it too loud would make her stop.

You had just smiled, gently scratching behind her ears. “Yeah. I think she likes us.”

It took less than twenty-four hours for Miss Honey to fully take over the house.

By the next morning, she had already established herself as a permanent fixture, weaving between your legs as you made coffee, hopping onto the couch like she owned the place, and—much to Joe’s delight—curling up on his chest while he lounged around watching film.

“She’s got good taste,” he mused, running a slow hand down her back.

You, sitting cross-legged on the floor sorting through your Target bags from yesterday, shot him a look. “You mean ‘cause she likes you?”

Joe grinned, glancing down at the cat who was currently making biscuits against his hoodie. “I mean, can you blame her?”

You snorted. “Unreal.”

Still, you had to admit—Miss Honey really did love Joe.

At first, you thought it was just convenience. He ran warm, he was still for long periods of time, and his heartbeat was steady enough to lull anyone to sleep. But over the next few days, it became clear that her attachment went deeper than that.

She followed him from room to room, her tiny paws padding against the hardwood whenever he moved. If Joe was at the kitchen counter making breakfast, Miss Honey was right there beside him, tail flicking lazily. If he was tying his shoes by the door, she sat next to him, watching intently like she had somewhere to be, too.

It was ridiculous.

“She’s obsessed with you,” you pointed out one night, arms crossed as you watched her bat playfully at the drawstrings of his hoodie.

Joe grinned, scratching under her chin. “Yeah, but don’t be jealous.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth blooming in your chest.

Because, truthfully, you loved it.

You loved that she trusted him. Loved that this cat—who had spent who-knows-how-long fending for herself—had chosen you both, nestled herself into the space between you like she had been there forever.

It didn’t take long for Miss Honey to establish a routine.

Every morning, without fail, she woke Joe up first. Not you—Joe.

You learned this the hard way when you woke up one morning to a quiet, disgruntled “Jesus,” followed by the sound of Joe shifting beside you. Blinking blearily, you turned over, only to find Miss Honey perched delicately on his chest, staring down at him like she was assessing whether or not it was time for him to get up.

“Babe,” Joe whispered, voice still thick with sleep. “Your cat is harassing me.”

You stifled a laugh, rubbing your eyes. “She’s your cat too.”

“Yeah, well, tell her to chill.”

Miss Honey, completely ignoring his complaints, took that exact moment to lean down and press her tiny nose against his, like a little wake-up kiss.

You melted on the spot.

Joe groaned, but even half-asleep, he couldn’t hide his smile.

From then on, it became a thing. Every morning, she woke Joe up first, then trotted to the kitchen like a little queen expecting breakfast. She had a schedule, and she stuck to it.

By the end of the second week, she had also taken over bedtime.

One night, you were finishing up in the bathroom when Joe called out from the bedroom, amusement lacing his voice.

“You’re getting replaced.”

You stepped into the room, brows furrowed. “What?”

Joe tilted his head toward the bed, where Miss Honey was curled up on his pillow, perfectly nestled into the space where your head usually went.

You crossed your arms. “Unreal.”

Joe smirked, patting the mattress beside him. “Sorry, babe. She called dibs.”

You shook your head, sliding into bed anyway, and—because Miss Honey was the most spoiled creature on the planet—you let her stay.

She purred contently between you, tucked snugly between your bodies, and Joe reached out, running a slow hand down her back before catching your gaze.

“I think she was meant to be ours,” he murmured, voice soft in the dark.

Your heart swelled.

Because he was right.

At first, Miss Honey had been a little more drawn to Joe. It wasn’t anything personal—she liked you just fine—but there was something about him that had her stuck to him like glue. Maybe it was his warmth, or the steady way he carried himself, or the fact that he had been the one to scoop her up from the cold and bring her home.

But after a couple of weeks, things started shifting.

It wasn’t sudden. There was no grand moment of realization where she decided, Actually, I love you too. It was slower than that—small moments that gradually built into something solid, something certain.

It was the way she started lingering in the kitchen while you made breakfast, winding around your ankles, soft fur brushing against your bare legs as she meowed up at you like she was part of the conversation.

It was how she started climbing onto your lap while you were reading, kneading her tiny paws into your stomach before curling up and purring herself to sleep, like you were something safe.

It was how she started following you into the bathroom whenever you did your skincare at night, sitting neatly by the sink and watching you with lazy, half-lidded eyes, as if she was deeply invested in your routine.

She was still Joe’s shadow, but you had become hers.

And it didn’t go unnoticed.

“She likes you now,” Joe teased one night, watching as Miss Honey happily stretched out on your chest, perfectly content.

You smirked, scratching under her chin. “She always liked me.”

“Nah,” he mused, tossing an arm around your shoulders. “She tolerated you. Big difference.”

You gasped dramatically. “How dare you?”

Joe chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Hey, it’s a compliment. You won her over.”

And you had.

Miss Honey wasn’t just a cat anymore. She was your cat. An irreplaceable little presence in the house.

Joe, naturally, leaned into it full force.

It started with the essentials.

A bed. A few toys. Some high-quality cat food that Joe meticulously researched before purchasing. He wasn’t about to give her just anything—he wanted the best, reading reviews like he was about to draft a new teammate.

You had laughed the first time you caught him looking up “best cat food brands for digestion” on his phone.

“Joe, she was literally eating bugs two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, and now she’s got standards,” he shot back, tapping on a link. “This one’s got good ingredients.”

And that was just the beginning.

Before long, Joe was going all out—buying her the best litter (something natural and odor-free, because only the best for our girl), a selection of premium treats (“That Temptations crap is all filler,” he had said, with so much conviction you almost cried laughing), and multiple collars in different colors and patterns.

One morning, you caught him kneeling by the front door, carefully adjusting the tiny blue velvet collar around Miss Honey’s neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, leaning against the doorway, watching as he straightened the little golden name tag.

Joe glanced up, grinning. “She looks good though, right?”

You had to admit—she did.

But the real turning point? The sweaters.

That was unexpected.

It had started as a joke—one lazy evening, the two of you scrolling through Etsy, looking at cat accessories for fun.

“Wouldn’t she look cute in this?” you had said, showing Joe a tiny, knitted sweater in a soft cream color.

Joe snorted. “No way she’d wear that.”

Turns out, she would. And she’d like it.

The first time you slipped a tiny sweater over her head, Miss Honey barely reacted—just gave a big stretch, turned in a circle, and promptly plopped down on Joe’s lap like nothing was different.

Joe, stunned, just blinked.

“You’re telling me she’s okay with this?”

“She’s thriving,” you corrected, grinning.

And from that moment on, Joe took it as a personal mission to build her wardrobe.

Over the next week, more sweaters arrived in the mail—different colors, different materials, even a tiny hoodie with ears.

“This is getting out of hand,” you commented as Joe unboxed yet another package.

He held up a tiny lavender sweater, inspecting the material. “It’s for layering.”

You stared at him. “Joe, she’s a cat.”

Joe just smirked. “A stylish one.”

Miss Honey, stretched out on the couch, gave a slow blink, completely unbothered by the chaos she had brought into your lives.

And, honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Three months in, and neither of you could remember what life was like before Miss Honey.

It wasn’t just that she had settled into your home—she had settled into you, woven herself into the rhythm of your days so seamlessly that the idea of waking up without her little body curled between you or coming home to a silent house felt… wrong.

Mornings were different now.

Gone were the days of lazy, drawn-out wake-ups—Miss Honey made sure of that. If Joe’s alarm didn’t get him up, her tiny little paws kneading into his chest certainly did. And if he dared try to roll over and ignore her? She’d take matters into her own hands.

Or, more accurately, her own whiskers.

One morning, you caught her using her best tactic yet—pressing her nose right against Joe’s, whiskers tickling his face until he groaned and finally peeled one eye open.

“You are the most spoiled creature on the planet,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

Miss Honey responded by immediately rubbing her face against his chin, purring like a little engine.

Joe exhaled a laugh, eyes still heavy as he let his fingers trail through her fur. “Unreal.”

Meanwhile, your mornings had changed in a different way.

You used to make coffee alone, sipping it in peaceful solitude before starting your day. Now? You had company.

Miss Honey had claimed her spot on the counter—perched delicately by the coffee machine, watching your every move like an executive overseeing production.

“Supervising?” you’d ask her, sprinkling cinnamon into your cup.

She’d blink, tail flicking lazily.

Joe, walking into the kitchen at just the right moment, would snort. “She’s your little manager.”

And it was true—Miss Honey was involved in everything.

She had a routine. A life. A set of unspoken rules that ran the house.

If one of you was on the couch? She was there too, curled up in the crook of your leg or sprawled across Joe’s chest. If you were cooking? She was on the floor, watching you with silent judgment, like a tiny food critic.

If Joe was watching game film, she’d climb onto his lap and stare at the screen, like she had some real thoughts about the Bengals' offense.

She had her little preferences, too. She didn’t care for loud noises but loved when Joe played music on his speakers. She always sat with you while you read, always meowed when she wanted attention, and—for some reason—seemed particularly obsessed with Joe’s socks.

“She’s weird,” Joe said one night, watching as she enthusiastically dragged one of his socks across the living room like it was her prized possession.

“You brought home a gas station cat,” you reminded him. “What did you expect?”

Joe exhaled a laugh, shaking his head as he reached down to scratch behind her ears. “She’s perfect.”

And she was.

She had changed things in the smallest, most meaningful ways.

The house didn’t feel empty when Joe was away anymore—not when you had her little paws padding around, her soft purrs filling the silence. Even on the loneliest days, she made it better, curling into you like she just knew.

And Joe—he had changed, too.

If he had been a cat person before, he was fully in his Cat Dad era now.

It had started subtly. The good food, the high-quality litter, the little sweaters he kept ordering. But at some point, it escalated.

Joe started carrying her around the house, tucking her into his hoodie when he was watching film, talking to her like she was an actual human being.

“Alright, Miss Honey,” he said one afternoon, kneeling in front of her as she lounged lazily on her little cat bed. “We got options. You wanna wear the blue sweater or the gray one today?”

You, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed, stared at him. “Joe.”

He looked up, completely unashamed. “She likes choices.”

“She’s a cat.”

Joe just smirked, holding up the tiny sweaters. “A stylish one.”

And then there was the Ja’Marr conversation.

One night, after practice, Ja’Marr had made a casual joke—something about how “one cat turns into five real quick,” laughing at the idea of Joe slowly becoming that guy.

You had laughed too, shaking your head. “No way. We’re a one-cat household.”

Joe had nodded in agreement, completely confident. “Yeah, no shot.”

But then… a week later, he changed his tune.

You were curled up together on the couch, Miss Honey stretched between you, when Joe sighed, absentmindedly running his fingers down her back.

“She’s kinda lonely,” he mused.

You blinked. “What?”

Joe glanced over, tilting his head toward Miss Honey, who was currently kneading her little paws into his thigh. “I mean, she’s got us, but, like… I bet she’d like a friend.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes. “Joe.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, tone easy, like he wasn’t suggesting something huge. “She’s got so much energy. I think she’d like a buddy.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my God.”

Joe grinned. “Just think about it.”

And just like that, the conversation had started. And you had been so firm about it. Absolutely not. No second cat.

Miss Honey was thriving—happy, healthy, and fully attached to both of you. The idea of bringing another cat into the house felt risky. What if she didn’t like it? What if she got territorial? What if she felt betrayed?

Joe, of course, had started planting the idea like a damn politician.

“I just think she gets bored sometimes,” he would say casually while Miss Honey chased her own tail in the living room.

“She’s got a lot of love to give,” he mused one night, watching her rub up against every single one of your ankles like she was making the rounds.

“She needs a little sidekick,” he argued as she sprawled out dramatically on the kitchen floor, meowing at nothing in particular.

You shot him down every time.

Until, of course, fate decided to step in.

It was a random Saturday, and you and Joe were out running errands—nothing special, just a casual grocery run. You had been debating what kind of bread to get (Joe insisted the multigrain one tasted just as good as white bread, which was a blatant lie), when something caught his eye.

“Babe,” Joe said, suddenly abandoning the cart and heading toward the entrance. “Look.”

You turned, frowning as you followed his gaze.

Right outside the store, under a big white tent, was a cat rescue group—volunteers standing beside crates filled with tiny, curious faces.

A pet adoption event.

Joe immediately turned to you, eyes lighting up. “This is a sign.”

“No, it’s not,” you argued, grabbing the cart. “It’s just Saturday.”

“It’s a sign.”

You groaned as he practically dragged you toward the tent, already grinning like he had just won the lottery.

And then you saw them.

The kittens.

Tiny, wiggly little things with big eyes and oversized paws, rolling around in their blankets or climbing the sides of their enclosures with impressive determination.

You told yourself you were just looking.

Joe was crouched down almost immediately, eyes scanning the different crates as the volunteers smiled at him.

“You guys looking to adopt?” one of them asked.

Joe grinned. “Maybe.”

You shot him a glare. “We are not looking to—”

And then you saw her.

A tiny gray tabby, tucked in the corner of her crate, nibbling sleepily at her own paw. Big round eyes, the softest little face, and an expression that screamed, Yeah, I know I’m cute.

You inhaled sharply.

“Oh no,” Joe murmured, catching the look on your face.

You glanced at him, then back at the kitten.

“… I wanna hold her.”

Joe grinned. “Knew it.”

The second the volunteer placed the kitten in your hands, you were done for. She was so small, her little body barely bigger than your palm. She meowed—tiny and sweet—before immediately nuzzling into the crook of your neck, purring like she had just found home.

Joe, watching intently, exhaled a laugh. “Oh yeah. We’re done for.”

That night, you walked into your house as a two-cat household.

Miss Honey was not immediately sold.

The introduction process was slow—gentle, cautious. You followed all the steps, kept them separated at first, let them get used to each other’s scent. But, much to your surprise, Miss Honey didn’t react with any real aggression.

Mostly? She just seemed deeply confused.

The first time she saw the kitten, she just stared, tail flicking, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Joe, crouched beside her, grinned. “You got a little sister, Honey.”

Miss Honey turned her head, fixing him with a look.

You laughed. “I don’t think she asked for one.”

Still, within a few days, things started shifting.

The kitten—who you decided to name Fig—was relentless in her pursuit of Miss Honey’s love.

She followed her everywhere, mimicked her every move, and—on more than one occasion—attempted to curl up against her, only to be met with a single, unimpressed flick of the tail.

But then, one morning, you woke up to find them curled up together on the couch—Miss Honey’s paw resting protectively over Fig’s tiny little body.

Joe, standing beside you, smirked. “Told you she needed a buddy.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt full.

And that’s how you and Joe became crazy cat people.

[reveriebae]

You Wrote That For Me, Didn't You?

pairing(s) : Idol!Yunho x Atiny!reader

word count : 1931

summary : After casually revealing your face on Tumblr, a well-known smut writer attend an ATEEZ fan meet, unaware of the consequences. When you sit in front of Yunho, something feels off—the way he looks at you, the way he lingers. Then, just before her time is up, he drops a bombshell. He follows your account. He’s read everything. And he’s not letting you go that easily.

genre : suggestive

warning(s) : Slight dub-con vibes (power imbalance), heavy tension, teasing, suggestive language, explicit themes, idol-reader dynamics, Yunho being way too confident and knowing, mild obsession undertones, reader’s worst (or best?) nightmare coming true. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : this one got my toes curling SKSKKSKSKSK. Here's the part 2!

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐fic under the cut🪐

You never thought twice before posting your fics. Why would you? It was just writing—just words strung together for thirsty Atinys who craved something a little more. Some of your works had gone viral, and you had a loyal following of readers who loved every filthy thing you put out.

So when you finally did a face reveal on your Tumblr, you didn’t think much of it. A casual selfie, captioned with something dumb like “Since y’all keep asking… here, take it”. A few hundred likes, some teasing comments, and that was that.

No big deal.

At least, that’s what you thought.

The excitement of the fan meet buzzed in your veins as you finally sat down in front of Yunho. Seeing him this close was unreal—the warmth of his presence, the way his smile reached his eyes, the deep, smooth hum of his voice as he greeted you.

But something felt off.

You couldn’t quite place it at first. It was subtle—just the way his gaze lingered, a little longer than it should. The way he studied your face like he was placing you, as if you weren’t just another fan in his long line of meet-and-greet interactions.

Then came the compliment.

“You’re really pretty in person,” he murmured, and his voice had a weight to it, like there was something more behind the words.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Ah—thank you!”

The response felt automatic, but your brain was still trying to process the way he was looking at you. Not just with the usual idol-to-fan warmth, but with something… different. Like he knew you.

His fingers tapped lightly against the table, rhythmic and patient, as if he was waiting for something. Then, just as the staff was about to signal your turn was up, Yunho leaned in ever so slightly.

And then he said it.

“You should be more careful about what you post, Jagiya.”

Your body stiffened.

Your mind blanked.

Did he just—

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, eyes widening in pure, unfiltered panic. But Yunho? Yunho just smiled. A slow, knowing curve of his lips, dark amusement flickering in his gaze.

“I follow you on Tumblr,” he continued, voice dropping just enough that only you could hear. His tone was smooth, casual, like he was discussing the weather. Like he wasn’t completely wrecking your reality in real time.

Your stomach twisted. No, this had to be a joke. A coincidence. There was no way—

“Mm.” His fingers brushed against the table, casual and lazy. “I recognized you the moment I saw your selfie.”

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

You had so much smut on that account. And not just any smut—detailed, filthy scenarios that had Yunho doing things that could get you banned just for thinking about them too hard.

“I—” Your voice came out weak, shaky, and you were suddenly painfully aware of how warm your face was.

Yunho chuckled, the sound low and pleased. “You look flustered,” he mused. “Why? You weren’t shy when you wrote all those things about me.”

He was teasing you.

No—he was toying with you.

Your fingers clenched around the edge of the table as you swallowed hard, trying to force your brain to work. But you could barely breathe under his gaze, let alone form a response.

He leaned in just a little more, close enough that you could catch the faintest hint of his cologne. His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the edge behind it when he said—

“You wrote that for me, didn’t you?”

Your time was up.

The staff was gently urging you to move along, but you couldn’t move—wouldn’t—until Yunho tilted his head, gaze flickering to the line behind you.

Then, just before you stood up, he murmured one last thing—low, quiet, for your ears only.

“See you later, baby.”

You walked away from the table in a daze.

The voices of other fans, the bright lights, the excited chatter—everything blurred into a distant hum, like white noise. Your body moved on instinct, following the line toward the exit, but your mind was stuck. Frozen.

Yunho knew.

Yunho read your fics.

Yunho—Jeong Yunho—had been watching your blog, scrolling through your late-night thirst posts, reading every filthy thought you had ever put into words.

Your breath shuddered as you stepped outside the venue, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat burning under your skin. Your heart was pounding—too fast, too hard—like you had just run miles instead of sitting for a harmless fan meet.

Except it wasn’t harmless.

Because Yunho’s voice was still ringing in your ears.

"You wrote that for me, didn't you?"

A shiver ran down your spine, and you had to physically shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. No. No, there was no way this was real. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he was just teasing.

Maybe—

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You nearly dropped it when you pulled it out, fingers trembling as you glanced at the screen. A notification from Tumblr. Someone had just liked one of your posts.

A post from two years ago.

Your stomach dropped.

Slowly, hesitantly, you opened the app. The notification led you straight to the post—a particularly filthy piece about Yunho, one that had gone semi-viral when you first wrote it. And sitting right there, at the top of the notes—

A new like.

From a user you didn’t recognize.

Your pulse hammered as you clicked on the profile. It was nearly empty—just a default avatar, no posts, no bio. But there was one thing.

The blog name.

"ateezyunho1999."

Your mouth went dry.

No. No, no, no, this had to be a joke.

Then another notification popped up.

A message.

Your vision blurred for a second as you forced yourself to tap on it, breath shallow as you read the words.

"Come outside."

A pause.

Then—

"I'll be waiting."

Your hands shook as you stared at the message.

You could feel your own pulse in your throat, hammering like a warning. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Yunho was an idol. A celebrity. There was no way he would actually—

Your phone buzzed again.

The third message.

"Don't make me wait, baby."

The air in your lungs turned heavy. Your brain screamed at you to walk away, to ignore it, to go home and pretend none of this ever happened.

But your body?

Your body was already moving.

Like you had no control over yourself, your feet carried you toward the back of the venue, slipping past groups of lingering fans, past the staff still bustling around. You shouldn’t be doing this. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this.

And yet—

As soon as you turned the corner, stepping into the dimly lit alley behind the building, you felt him before you even saw him.

Yunho.

He was leaning against the side of a sleek black car, one hand tucked into the pocket of his coat, the other holding his phone. The glow of the screen lit up his face, casting soft shadows along the sharp angles of his jawline. But it wasn’t the way he looked that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was the way he smirked when he saw you.

Slowly, he slipped his phone into his pocket, pushing off the car as he took a step toward you.

“You listen well,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “That’s good.”

You should have said something. Anything. But your tongue felt heavy, thoughts tangled into knots as you stood frozen in place.

Yunho tilted his head, eyes flickering over you in a slow, deliberate sweep. His gaze was too knowing, too intimate—like he had already stripped you down in his mind.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come,” he continued, his tone almost teasing. “But then again…”

A pause.

Then—

“I know what you want.”

Your breath caught.

Yunho chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied. He took another step forward, closing the distance between you inch by inch. He was so tall, so effortlessly imposing, and when he finally stopped in front of you, the heat of his body was enough to make your skin prickle.

“You didn’t think I’d notice you, did you?” His voice dipped lower, smooth like honey but edged with something darker. “You wrote all those filthy little things about me, and yet, when I look at you now…”

He reached out, fingers brushing along the side of your jaw, so lightly it almost wasn’t a touch at all.

“You look so shy.”

A slow smirk curled at his lips as he leaned in, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“Tell me, baby.” His voice was a whisper now, barely audible, but it wrapped around you like a vice.

“Do I match your imagination?”

Your breath came shallow, uneven.

The question sent a violent shiver through you.

You wanted to deny it. To shake your head, pretend you weren’t completely unraveling under his gaze. But the moment you tried to step back, his hand moved.

A firm grip on your chin.

Not rough, not forceful—just enough to keep you still. Enough to make your knees weaken.

He hummed, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. His thumb brushed along your lower lip, and his gaze darkened.

“You’re not answering,” he murmured. “That’s cute.”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

This was dangerous. This was a situation you had only ever fantasized about—except now, reality was so much worse. Because in your fics, Yunho was just a character, a version of him built from your own desires.

But this Yunho?

This Yunho was real. And he had read everything.

His thumb pressed against your lip, just enough to make you part them. The smirk that followed was pure sin.

“Mm,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “I wonder…”

He let the word hang in the air as his fingers trailed down, a featherlight touch along the column of your throat. A tease. A warning.

“Does the way I touch you match your imagination, too?”

Heat pooled deep in your stomach, a slow, unbearable ache curling at your core. Your body betrayed you before you could even think—back arching just slightly, like you were reaching for more.

Yunho saw it.

And he liked it.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest, deep and pleased. “Ah,” he sighed, thumb tapping against your chin. “So responsive.”

Then, just when you thought he might close the distance completely, he pulled back just enough. Enough to leave you breathless, desperate.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was deceptively gentle, like he wasn’t the same man who had just whispered filth into your ear moments ago.

Then, his lips curled again. That smirk.

“I should get going,” he said casually, like he hadn’t just ruined you with a few words and touches.

Your body screamed in protest, but before you could even think of stopping him, he was already turning toward the sleek black car parked nearby.

The door opened. He paused. Then—

He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes locking onto yours one last time.

“Don’t stop writing,” he murmured. “I like seeing what you come up with.”

A slow, teasing wink.

And then—

He was gone.

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part iii)

summary: Joel’s delicate attachment to Leela and baby Maya deepens along with—her resistance, his denial, and the slow, inevitable way he’s always finding his way back to them. As they navigate a freak accident, Ellie sees it. He does too. Almost.

a/n: ah-woohooooo more of Joel being a thickheaded numpty, so enjoy! I would love to hear all your unhinged, lovely thoughts!

It had been a quiet few weeks for Joel.

Not the kind of quiet he liked—the stillness of early mornings, with the wind rustling the trees and a guitar strumming in his hands. No, this was the one that came after a storm, when the air was dense with the scent of rain and the world felt... upside down. Unsettled. The kind of quiet where the damage had already been done, and all that was left was to pick through the wreckage.

The kind of quiet that made a man think too much. It pressed into him, heavy and suffocating.

Since that night in the car, since he’d seen her unravel in real time, the tacit MO had changed. On more welcome news, Mal had stopped coming around. No thanks to him, of course.

Joel saw him through the window the first morning he returned to Leela's place. Mal was coming up the path with the same easy stride, hands in his pockets like he had a right to be there. God, just once, he wanted to knock the teeth off that goddamned kid.

Joel set down his hammer and exhaled through his nose. Bless Tommy for leaving the fun part to him. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and stepped out onto the porch before the kid could even knock. The heavy door groaned on its hinges behind him, and he let it.

Mal spotted him and gave a lazy wave, stepping forward. “Hey, man. I’m just here to—”

Joel shifted in front of him. Not aggressive. Just there. An immense wall of quiet warning.

Mal stopped short, blinking up at him.

Joel wasn’t even trying to stand taller, but he didn’t need to. He just crossed his arms over his chest, let his shoulders square out naturally, let his stance say everything. He wasn’t fucking moving.

The kid hesitated, confusion flickering across his face. “Uh—is there a problem?”

“I’ll take it from here,” Joel said, voice even.

Mal frowned. “What?”

“I said, whatever it is, I got it.”

There was a pause. A moment where Joel could see the gears turning in Mal’s head, where the kid was piecing things together a little too slow for his liking.

“Okay, but Tommy said—”

“Yeah, well.” Joel leaned forward, just enough to be felt. Watched Mal’s jaw tighten, and watched him shift back on instinct. “Not anymore.”

That finally landed. Mal thankfully rocked back on his heels and rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced past Joel, toward the house, then back, brows knitting together, trying to make sense of what was going on. What he'd done wrong.

"Uh... do you want help, at least?" he offered, cautious.

Joel let out a slow breath, something close to a laugh—if you could call it that. There was nothing warm in it. "You run along now."

Mal lingered for another second, like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. And like a kid being told off, he tucked his tail and left.

Joel didn’t bother to watch him go. Just turned on his heel, grabbed the door, and went back inside. “Fuckin' pest,” he grumbled under his breath.

The house was quiet—only the soft creak of the stairs, followed by the sound of careful, steady footsteps.

He looked up and saw Leela was making her way down, one hand carefully bracing against the railing. She was in sweats and an oversized sweater, her hair pulled into a low-hanging bun. There was something different about her face today—sharper, cleaner, blanker maybe. Or maybe he was just seeing her in a better light now.

She caught him staring. "Was that Mal?"

Joel simply lied, "No."

She pressed her lips together. Not quite disappointment, not quite relief. Something in between. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Maybe later.”

Joel hooked a thumb through the loop of his tool belt, retrieving the hammer he’d slung there. He twirled it once, catching the handle in his palm.

“Don't worry about it. He’s a busy guy,” he said, keeping his voice light as he crossed her on the staircase. “Lots of shit to fix around town.”

More importantly, Leela didn’t ask why or how. Soon enough, she stopped looking for Mal. Didn’t even question when Joel started showing up every day instead with his old tool belt slung over his shoulder, standing at her door like it was the most unassuming thing in the world. She just looked at him—one glance, one unreadable flicker of those dark, tired eyes—and then moved on like it didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t there at all. Stiffing him, essentially.

And Joel knew that kind of distance. This gaping rupture, widened between people when something sore and hideous had been exposed. When someone had seen too much; known too much. Leela knew she’d overstepped, and now she was pulling back.

Joel knew that feeling. He’d done it plenty himself. That instinct to retreat, to pull the shutters down, to make yourself small. Hell, he’d lived it. Had become it.

So he let it happen. He let her pretend again. Didn't push, didn't say anything. He simply worked.

The nursery was coming together, slowly but surely. The pendant lights were fixed, casting warm pools of gold over the room. The shelves stood straighter, stocked with whatever Maria had been sneaking in—baby books, folded blankets, onesies, wooden toys. And the old fuchsia rug he’d found in Leela’s storage? It tied the whole damn thing together, like a relic of a forgotten life, all lived-in and warm for the baby girl.

Joel stood in the centre of it all, Maya cradled in his arms, rocking slightly on his heels. Not that she could appreciate any of this yet. A safe space of her own.

He had never been the kind of man who cooed at babies either. Hadn’t been that way when Sarah was small, hadn’t been that way in the years since. There was something about them—so soft, so fragile—that made him cautious, like he had to hold back, keep himself in check.

Maya made it easier.

"Hi," he whispered to her after her naps. "Did you sleep well? Huh, pretty girl? C'mere."

She made tiny, thoughtful expressions like she was really listening to him. Her little hands were always reaching, always curious. Right now, she was watching the lights with those big brown eyes, mesmerized by the slow shift of the shadows on the ceiling, her mouth parting slightly in wonder. Her fingers curled absently in his shirt, barely grasping, like she just liked knowing he was there.

She’d been a fussy one lately—tired, restless, wanting to be held more often than not. Lonely. And with a mama like Leela, who drifted too easily and got lost too deep in her own head, Joel figured it wasn’t a bad idea to show her around. Give her something new to look at.

“What do you think, baby girl?” he murmured, shifting her closer, his palm smoothing down her tiny back. “Did I do okay or what?”

Maya blinked up at him, her whole body stilling for a second before she let out a soft, breathy coo.

Joel grinned. “Yeah?” he chuckled. “That a yes?”

She wiggled in his hold, that gummy little smile coming alive, kicking lightly against his ribs, and Joel felt himself exhale—deep, easy, something loosening inside him. She liked it. The nursery. The lights. Him. Maybe none of it mattered in that little head of hers, but she wasn’t crying. She wasn’t fussing. She was looking at him like she trusted him, and God help him, but he wanted to deserve that.

He took her toward the shelves, kneeling carefully with her in one arm, balancing his weight as he pointed to the row of paint cans. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s pick a colour. What’s it gonna be, huh?” He tilted them slightly, exposing the faded labels. “We got white. Some kinda blue. Green.”

Maya reacted immediately, tiny fist stretching out, fingers grazing toward the muted green.

Joel huffed a small laugh. “Yeah? That your favorite?”

Her fingers brushed the side of the can, fascinated by the cool metal, a quiet coo slipping from her lips.

Joel hesitated for a second, then gave in. He really couldn't help himself. At that moment, he just had to. Slowly, carefully, he shifted her closer, lowering his head and pressing a kiss to the soft crown of her unsteady little head.

She smelled faint and sweet as always, like baby powder and fresh linens, and he let himself linger for a second longer than he should have, feeling the heat of her through his shirt, the tiny weight of her against his chest.

Maya wiggled in response, not in protest, but excitement, legs kicking slightly.

Joel exhaled, something breaking loose inside him.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed another kiss to the side of her head, then another and another, half a laugh escaping him when she wriggled in delight, her little fists stretching open, her eyes squeezing shut like she could feel the warmth of it sinking in.

Maybe she could. Maybe she knew, in that small, primal way babies knew things, that Joel was someone safe. That he wouldn’t let her fall. That he really fucking loved her.

A rustle at the doorway made him glance up from a kiss. Leela stood there, her hand lightly braced against the frame, watching him.

Joel was caught off guard, leaning away from Maya a bit, settling her lower against his chest. “Hey,” he greeted, voice low. “Just givin’ her the lay of the land.”

Leela’s expression didn’t change. She only flashed a tight, fleeting smile before stepping forward, arms extending toward Maya. “You wanna take a bath with mama?”

Maya twisted in his hold, cooing eagerly now, little hands reaching for her mother. Even after everything, her mother was still her favourite person.

Joel let her go, careful as he passed her over to Leela. Their hands brushed, warm skin against warm skin, and he ignored the way it lingered, how her fingers barely curled in his before she took Maya into her arms.

“She’s been good,” Joel muttered.

Leela nodded, running a gentle palm over Maya’s back. “There’s lunch downstairs if you’re hungry.”

Joel studied her for a beat, his fingers brushing idly against his tool belt. “…Did you eat something?”

She hesitated. Too long. Then nodded, slow.

He didn’t call her on the lie. Instead, he nodded back, watching as she turned on her heel, shifting Maya closer against her shoulder. She left him with another tight, fleeting smile before disappearing down the hall.

Joel breathed out a sigh, glancing back at the half-finished room. Maya’s soft, content coos still lingered in the air. The green paint sat on the shelf, waiting.

And for some damn reason, he felt lonelier than he had in a long, long time.

It had taken him eleven days. Too long for a man like him. But he hadn’t rushed at all. He should’ve, but he didn’t. Had he been the same old Joel—good ol’ Texas Joel—this would’ve been a job done in a heartbeat. A blink, and he’d be out of her way. He wouldn’t have noticed things. Wouldn’t have lingered like a moron.

Maybe it was because of the way Leela barely spoke to him anymore. Or that she wouldn’t look him in the eye when she checked on his progress in clipped words and hums, wouldn’t even glance his way when she passed Maya to him like clockwork, a silent, wordless thing between them.

Maybe because when she leaves him standing at the porch at the end of the day, the door closing shut in his face, it didn’t feel like closing a chapter. It felt like a fucking wall going up.

Joel found her in the kitchen that evening, standing by the counter, wrist-deep in soapy water. It was late, Maya was snoozing her little head off upstairs, the house dim except for the overhead light humming low above them.

She didn’t stagger when he entered, didn’t look at him either. Just kept scrubbing the hell out of a plate, though he was pretty sure it was already clean. He dawdled near the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing.

He should’ve left. Should’ve let the silence settle. But he couldn't just leave it alone.

Instead, he cleared his throat and stepped forward, leaning a hip against the counter. “Y’know, you got a dishwasher. It's half the effort,” he pointed out.

Leela gave a small huff. “Electricity’s scarce.”

Joel snorted. “So is water, darlin’.”

She finally glanced at him, just a flicker, then back to the sink.

He tapped his fingers against the counter, searching for something—anything—to keep her in this moment with him. “Made good progress today,” he said. “Maya... she tried to turn on her side. The nursery; well, I just need to fix up that dresser and—”

“Look, thank you. But I’m really tired, Joel.”

She said it without looking at him, her voice level, no bite to it. Just a statement. A locked door. He should’ve expected it, should’ve shrugged it off and moved on. Instead, something about the words, directed at him, sat wrong inside him. All that hurt-people-hurt-people-drivel that Maria used to say came back to bite him in the ass.

He hesitated, shifting his weight onto his feet. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I should get going.”

She said nothing. Just shut off the faucet, dried her hands on a towel, and walked past him, close enough that the damp heat of her skin lingered for half a second longer than it should have. And despite fighting the urge to glance back at her as she left the room, he watched her disappear down the hall.

Joel stood outside her door for a long moment, which he had conscientiously locked, staring at the chipped paint of the doorframe, jaw clenching. His eyes flicked to the porch swing. It swayed slightly in the cold breeze.

Was it juvenile to think maybe she’d prefer his company? Was it fucking brainless of him to crave somewhere to belong? A purpose? Was he meant to die alone in a strange house and surrounded by empty whiskey bottles? Maybe. Probably. But hell if he didn’t wish it anyway.

Joel didn’t want to admit it—not directly, not even to himself—but he wanted to talk to her. Not about anything in particular. Not about that night in the Maranello, or how her little, breathy laugh was possibly the best thing to hear after those roars and clicks of the world beyond, or why she’d started looking at him instead of through him.

He just wanted something. Because before, there had been something. It wasn’t like talking to most people, where you had to pick your words apart before they even left your mouth, where you had to navigate bullshit small talk or forced pleasantries. With Leela, it had been... easy. Unspoken. A warm kind of quiet, the kind where he didn’t have to think too much, where he could just be.

He'll admit it, just this once—he liked that about her. He liked that a moment didn’t have to be forced. That he didn’t have to overthink, that they had a rhythm, a delicate system between them, one that made sense even if neither of them ever put words to it.

But now?

Now, she barely looked at him. Nowadays, when she passed Maya to him, it wasn’t with that quiet, knowing ease or a friendly grin, no matter how tired it had been—it was mechanical, transactional, like handing over a set of keys. Like a reminder that he wasn’t supposed to be here, and he didn’t know what to call that. Didn’t like the way it made his instincts turn over, uneasy, in his chest.

All that lingering had finally paid off, and Joel had found his way in. He wasn’t going to show it, of course—wasn’t gonna give himself away like some fool—but damn if he wasn’t relieved.

After days of unending cold shoulders, after all that stiff distance, this was the first real opening he’d gotten. An excuse. A way to talk to her without forcing it.

He had been fixing a flickering wall lamp that had been bugging him for some time now, in the second-floor hallway, standing on a step stool when—

CRASH.

The whole house plunged into darkness. The light he’d been working on blinked out, along with the rest of them, and then—a groan. A pained, breathy, hitched groan from below. His entire body tensed before his brain caught up.

Then came the wailing. Maya.

Joel’s heart stammered, caught between two instincts. The damn near gutting sound of the baby girl's frightened cries and that groan—that voice—he'd distinctly heard from the basement.

Fuck. His feet moved before his mind did. He leapt off the stool, tools cluttering to the floor, ignoring the protesting ache in his knees as he tore down the hall to Maya’s room. She was red-faced, eyes squeezed shut, fists curled as she screamed, trembling from the shock.

"Hey, hey, Maya," Joel hushed, scooping her up into his arms, and pulling her against his chest. "S'okay, sweetheart. I got you. I got you."

He shushed her, palm stroking warm circles over her back, bouncing her lightly in his arms. His heartbeat was loud, hammering in his ears, drowning everything out but the damn groan still hanging in his mind.

Leela.

She was down there, in that cursed basement, alone. And that sound had been awful.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, pressing his lips to Maya’s head before pulling back. More for himself rather than her.

“I'm right here, baby. Nothin’ to be scared of.” His voice was steady—measured—but his hands weren’t. His grip on her was a little too tight. They trembled a little.

Maya sniffled, her cries quieting just enough to slow his pulse, and he took that as his chance. Keeping her tucked to his chest, he made his way down the stairs, near flying, boots thudding against the wood.

His breath hitched as he reached the basement door. “Hey, you down here?” he called, shoving it open with his shoulder, jogging down to the dim space below.

Then he saw her.

Leela was slumped against the wall, obvious that she had been tossed into it, her silhouette barely lit by the glare of an emergency lamp in the corner. She was gripping her shoulder fiercely, rubbing it like she was trying to erase the pain. Her fingers dug in hard.

The remnants of her little "science project" upgrade lay scattered around her. Loose wires, metal scraps, a circuit board still humming with life. The main plug socket was connected. Was she fucking stupid? There was a baby upstairs, and she was ready to risk her home for that dumbass machine.

And her face—Fuck. She had gone pale. Eyes squeezed shut. Her chest rose and fell like she was working through an intense wave of pain.

“Christ.” The word came out more like a breath than anything. Joel took a step forward, but when his eyes landed on the tangled wires, something burned under his ribs.

“The hell do you think you’re doin’?” His voice came out rougher than intended, fear clawing at his throat, disguising itself as frustration.

Leela’s eyes fluttered open, hazy but sharp. “I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” She held up a hand to stop him before he could kneel down beside her. “Just a bit of bruising. Maya first.”

Joel clenched his jaw.

She was right. Damn it, he hated that she was right. Maya, now hiccupping soft little breaths against his chest, was the priority.

“Right,” he muttered, though the reluctance in his voice was clear. He cast her one last look, making sure she was still upright, still breathing normal, before turning back up the stairs.

It took ten whole minutes to get Maya settled, and that was a miracle in itself. He'd resorted to pleading under his breath, but she had continued to watch him, eyes wide, refusing to let sleep take her like she knew something was wrong. She was perceptive. Just like her mother.

Finally, finally, her little lashes fluttered shut, her tiny hand still gripping onto his shirt.

Joel exhaled, relief going awash his tension. “Good girl,” he murmured, before unfurling her fingers from his collar, brushing a kiss over them and laying her back down.

Then he was sprinting again. Back down the stairs, faster than he should have been, hand gripping the railing tight.

Leela hadn’t moved much. She was still slumped against the basement wall, her breaths deep and restrained—like she was trying to breathe the pain away.

Joel came down to a crouch by her feet. “Hey.”

“I'm fine, Joel, really,” she assured quietly.

Though, he could tell she was pissed at herself. She hated being like this—vulnerable, hurting, unable to brush it off and acting like it didn’t happen. But Joel saw it. He saw her. How she'd tilted her head against the wall, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.

Leela truly was fine. Bruised, rattled—but fine.

Joel had checked her over once more, ensuring nothing was broken, no serious harm done, and he had to force himself to believe her when she said she’d be okay.

But her hands. Oh, Christ. The dim glow of the emergency lamp cast a dull shine over her skin, and that’s when he noticed—the raw, reddened patches along her fingertips. The unmistakable burn marks where the electricity must’ve bit into her.

"Shit." He exhaled sharply through his nose, scraping a hand down his beard as he stared at her fingers.

She must’ve seen the look on his face because she tucked her hands close to her stomach like she could make them disappear. “Seriously,” she murmured, voice hoarse. “I’ve had worse.”

Joel’s jaw ticked. She wasn’t wrong. And that made something in him burn even hotter.

“C’mon,” he muttered, nodding toward the stairs. “Up.”

Leela hesitated, but the way he stood—the way he waited—made it clear he wasn’t asking. So she sighed and pushed herself upright, and Joel stayed close, arms extended safely around her, watching the way she moved, the way her body reacted.

She didn’t stumble. Didn’t wobble. That was good. No concussion or broken bones. A knot in his chest loosened instantly.

Once they made it back upstairs, Joel had her sit at the kitchen table, lit up from the sunshine filtering through from the afternoon sun. He set a bowl of warm water down in front of her, the steam curling into the space between them. He grabbed a small tin of ointment after a bit of rustling through the cabinets, then a roll of gauze, then paused, eyes flicking to her.

She was watching him. Still. Silent. Waiting.

Joel breathed out, slow and even, then came back over, pulling a chair beside her. He reached for her wrist, gently, carefully, lifting her hands into his own. A silent ask. Permission. Lesson learned from the last time he'd touched her.

Leela tensed for half a second before sighing, letting him take them.

She was trying to play it off like it didn’t hurt. Like it was fine. But as soon as he dipped her fingertips into the warm water, she sucked in a quiet breath through her teeth.

Joel’s grip tightened just a little. He tried to squeeze everything he had felt these past few days into a single word—“Sorry.”

He worked, taking it slow, gently swiping away the dust and grime, watching the way her skin flinched under the heat. His thumbs moved gradually, steadily, like he was afraid to make it worse.

“Y’gotta be more careful,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Damn wires ain’t worth all this. Remember, you’ve got someone countin’ on you.”

Leela let out a soft, tired laugh. “I didn’t know I had a nanny now.”

Joel shot her a look. “You don’t. You got me.”

She blinked at that.

Her lips parted slightly, but whatever she was about to say, she thought better of it. Instead, she let him work, let him take care of her, and trusted his instincts, and that felt like something neither of them was ready to acknowledge just yet.

Once her hands were cleaned, he dried them carefully, mindful of the more sensitive spots, before smoothing ointment over each burnt fingertip.

Leela twitched. “Ow.”

Joel grunted. “Ain’t gonna feel good, but it’ll keep it from blisterin’ too bad.”

He finished wrapping the gauze around her fingers, slow and precise, making sure they weren’t too tight. Leela stared down at her hands when he was done, flexing her fingers slightly, testing the bandages like she wasn’t sure what to make of them. Three fingers on each hand.

Joel blew out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face as he took in the house.

It was quiet. Too damn quiet. God, he hated this. That unnatural kind, where something had been cut short too suddenly—like the whole place had been stunned into silence. The shot-out lights overhead blinked weakly before finally dying out for good, leaving nothing but the cold creeping in from every corner.

It was already setting in. The draft slithered through the cracks in the windows, curling around his ankles, and sinking into the wood beneath his feet. The thermostat had shut off along with the rest of the power, which meant no heat. Not with how damn cold it got out here. Jesus, he'd forgotten to tuck some extra layers around Maya.

His eyes swept the room. A busted power grid. A rattled woman nursing bruises. A two-month-old baby upstairs who didn’t know a damn thing about survival, who didn’t understand that warmth wasn’t something she could just take for granted.

And this woman—this stubborn, frustrating woman—was already trying to stand up like she hadn’t just been thrown into a wall.

"I'll go check it out. Don't worry, Joel, I know what to do," Leela offered, pushing herself up.

Joel shot out a hand, firm, stopping her before she could get any further.

"You ain't fixin’ shit, you hear me?" His voice came out rougher than he intended, but hell if he cared. "Sit your damn ass down. You're stayin' at my place till I get this sorted."

The prospect did not sit well with her. He could see it in the way her jaw clenched, her eyes flicking to the window like she was already searching for another solution.

She shook her head. "I can't—"

"That's not an option."

She looked at him then, her brows drawing together. And he knew what she saw—knew she saw that hard-set determination in his face, the part of him that had already made up his mind.

What she didn’t see—what he’d never let her see—was the way his chest was burning with something too tight, too damn close to fear.

Because he’d walked into cold houses before. Knew what happened when the temperature dropped too low. Had seen bodies frozen stiff in the middle of the night, curled up as if that had been enough to keep them warm. Had seen what happened when people thought they could tough it out. He'd rather never see or smell that ever again.

Now, Leela thought she could tough it out. But he wasn’t about to let her gamble with a baby’s warmth just to prove a damn point. And if she thought this was some kind of negotiation, she was dead wrong. Because he wasn’t giving her a choice.

He exhaled slowly, grounding himself, softening the edges just enough so he wasn’t barking orders at her like some kind of drill sergeant.

“Just for a while,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Till I can fix whatever the hell you fucked up down there.”

Leela didn’t answer right away, lips pressing into a thin line. But she wasn’t stupid.

She glanced up toward the stairs, toward where Maya was still sleeping. Then back at him. Joel could see the exact moment she gave in. Her shoulders slumped as she relented.

He nodded, standing up, already running through what needed to be done. “Good. I'll go bundle up the kid.”

X

Joel hasn't exactly planned to have company. Ever.

Maria and Tommy showed up sometimes. Ellie, too—though not without complaint. She claimed the place smelled like old people and swore visiting would tank her cool factor. But even when they came around, he never let them stay too long. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before he was ushering them out the door with a gruff, Alright, get on, and some excuse about needing to be up early. It wasn’t that he didn’t like having people around. It was just—his place wasn’t made for that. He hadn’t made it for that.

It was single floor, nice and compact. He slept on the pullout couch in the living room. Not because he didn’t have that one really sweet bedroom, but because it was easier nowadays—closer to the door, closer to the window that faced the big white house across the street. His sink was a mess of dishes from last night, crusted over and rotting in the stale air. His cabinets weren’t stocked with food so much as they were with whiskey and coffee.

He came home. He ate. He slept. He woke up. Showered. Left. That was it. That was his life. It was enough and to spare.

So when Leela and Maya showed up at his front door, he wasn’t prepared. Not in the slightest.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, stepping aside to let her in. “Come on, then.”

Leela ducked inside first, shaking the cold from her coat, eyes flicking around the place as if she were already judging him for it. And maybe she was. Hell, Joel sure as shit would. Because this—this eyesore—was how she was gonna see him. As some tired, deadbeat old man who hadn’t even tried.

Maya stirred against her chest, her little hands fisting in the collar of Leela’s coat.

Joel cleared his throat and reached for her automatically. He needed his calm here. “C’mere, baby girl.”

She squealed at the sound of his voice, squirming, her small fingers flexing, gripping the fabric of his flannel before she finally settled against him, warm and soft. Joel let out a quiet breath through his nose, a strange kind of tightness unwinding from his ribs. He hadn’t even realized he’d been bracing for something.

“She can stay with me,” Leela said softly, slipping out of her coat.

Joel shook his head. “Nah, you get some rest. You’re takin’ the room down the hall.”

Leela blinked, surprised. “And you?”

Joel busied himself with Maya, playing catch and release with her tiny fists, letting her grab onto his finger before slipping it away. “I’ll be fine. Got the couch.”

She frowned. “But you’ve got that bad back.”

Joel sighed, jaw twitching. “Yes, ma'am. Thanks for noticin’.”

Leela’s mouth quirked slightly, just a little, but enough that it softened something in her expression. “You should take the bed, Joel.”

He hummed, shaking his head, shifting Maya a little higher against his chest. “You just shot into a wall and burned yourself, darlin’. I think you’re entitled to a bed.”

She tilted her head at him, her brow pinching together like she was trying to figure something out.

Joel stared back, more stubborn than apprehensive, his grip tightening just a fraction around Maya’s small body.

He wasn’t sure what it was, that look of hers. But damn if it didn’t make him feel like he was seen in a way he wasn’t used to. Like she was really looking at him—not the grumpy bastard everyone in Jackson thought he was, not the fixer, not the old guy sleeping his way through life—but him.

Joel shifted on his feet, clearing his throat. “Look, you’re takin’ the bed, that’s that. Maya can sleep next to you, so she’ll be closer.”

Leela was still staring at him, quiet for a long beat.

Then eventually she sighed. “Okay.”

It wasn’t much, but it felt like that little something Joel had wanted. Like an inch of the cold between them had finally cracked, let some warmth in.

Look, of course, Joel had always known his house was too damn small. He just hadn’t felt it until now.

There was no privacy to be had, not really. The pullout couch in the living room faced the bedroom door, left cracked open just enough for him to see the gentle rise and fall of Maya’s little body curled against where Leela would sleep later. The bathroom was the only one in the house, meaning if she needed it in the middle of the night, she’d have to walk past him to get there.

Not much space. Not much distance.

So when he heard the soft shuffle of her feet against the wood floor, he wasn’t surprised. He didn’t even have to look up from the guitar in his hands to know she’d wandered further inside, drawn toward the small corner of the living room where he kept his workspace.

It was a cramped setup—a shabby studio table shoved against the wall, two half-finished guitars resting on stands nearby. He’d only just started working on them, but it gave his hands something to do, something to create.

Leela’s fingers grazed over the unfinished wood, her touch featherlight. “I didn’t know you were this talented. A luthier.”

Joel chuckled, leaning back against the wall. “Layin’ it on a bit thick.”

She ignored him, curiosity guiding her hands as she thumbed over the strings. A quiet hum vibrated through the air, not a real note, just a sound. She tilted her head, listening.

“Would you make one for me when you have time to spare?” she asked, glancing up. “I’d love to learn.”

Joel almost laughed, because—yeah. Yeah, he’d drop dead before refusing that. “‘Course,” he said, voice low but certain.

Leela’s eyes found it too easily, drawn in like a moth to an old light. He almost wished he'd hid it away.

The picture that had survived time and death, sat on the corner shelf, tucked between a coil of guitar strings and a worn-out rag, the frame dull with dust he never bothered to wipe away. The glass was cracked, a thin vein running through the top left corner, but it didn’t matter. The image was still there. She was still there.

Sarah, grinning wide, her curls bouncing as she leaned into him, arms slung around his shoulders. Joel remembered that day. He’d taken her out to some shitty little carnival on the edge of town, and let her sucker him into one of those rigged ring toss games. She’d won a stuffed bear—cheated, more like, because the booth worker had taken pity on her—and held onto it the whole night like it was the greatest thing in the world.

She looked happy. They looked happy.

And it hit him—like it always did, like it always would—how long it had been since he’d last heard her voice. Since she’d called him 'Dad!' in that exasperated, teasing way of hers. Since she’d looked at him like he was the safest place she’d ever known.

Leela didn’t say anything. She didn’t even reach for it, didn’t let her gaze linger too long. Just acknowledged it, felt it, then moved past it, like she understood that some ghosts weren’t meant to be disturbed. Let them rest.

Joel swallowed. It wasn’t often that someone gave him that kind of space—left his past untouched, let him sit with it without trying to crack it open.

She leaned back against the edge of the desk, brushing her fingers through her hair again—one of those little habits of hers, nervous and absentminded. The strands were overgrown, frayed at the ends, and he knew she probably didn’t have the time to fix it, or maybe just didn’t care enough to. He should tell Maria to give her a trim.

But, she wasn’t wearing that pearl-buttoned nightdress tonight. This one was blue. Smooth. Loose-fitting. The frilled sleeves barely touched her shoulders, and it wasn’t anything special, not really, but—he liked it. That colour looked pretty on her skin.

The thought settled in his chest like an itch he didn’t know how to scratch.

Leela watched her fingers trail absently over the wood grain of the desk. “I owe you an apology, Joel,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

Joel listened and didn’t speak, just let the words settle between them.

“For how I’ve been treating you.” She swallowed, gaze flicking up to him, uncertain but steady. “You’ve only ever helped me, and you're so good with Maya. I know it wasn’t fair of me to just… shut you out.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

But she wasn’t convinced. She hesitated, jaw tensing, lips parting slightly before pressing shut again. There was something she wanted to say like it was dislodged deep, festering, in her chest.

“That night in the car…” She took a breath like it might help balance her. It didn’t. “It wasn't you. I had—before Maya, I was—there was—”

Joel knew that look. The way her throat bobbed, her fingers curling against the desk like she needed something solid to hold onto. Holding herself together. He didn’t let her unravel, just not tonight.

“Stop,” he said, gentle but firm. “You don’t have to explain.”

Leela blinked at him, studying his face, like she was trying to decide if he meant it. So he shrugged, forcing a small, easy grin.

“Perks of havin’ me around. I don’t care for the details.”

A small breath of laughter escaped her. Real, unguarded, softening the edges of her face. He loved to see it on her. “That's a relief.”

Joel leaned forward, rubbing his palm over his knee, the dull ache settling in from the long day.

His voice was lower when he spoke. “It’s just nice to be there, y’know?” He wasn’t good at this—saying shit like this—but it began to get easier with her. “With Maya. And you. There's more purpose than just shooting things beyond the fence.”

Something flickered across Leela’s face.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the desk, and her knuckles paled with how tightly she gripped it. “You’re welcome home anytime, Joel. My door’s always open for you.”

Joel’s chest pulled tight.

He looked at her. And he thought about that damn oak door, how she never locked it, how he’d always given her hell for it in his head. And how, for the first time, it didn’t feel like carelessness.

It felt like trust. Not in this boring town of survivors. But in the neighbour across the street who'd ferreted his way into their lives.

Leela took a slow breath, glancing down before meeting his eyes again. “So, you don’t have to come around just to fix things next time.”

Her voice was softer now. And then—something else. A small, almost shy laugh slipped past her lips, barely there, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say this next part out loud.

“Come to eat. To talk. To see Maya.” A beat. “And me.”

Joel felt it then—the shift. It wasn’t big, wasn’t some grand, earth-shaking thing. But it was there. He felt it.

"Maya loves you so much."

Joel glanced at her, unable to hold back the sympathy. He should’ve just let it sit. Should’ve just nodded, grunted something, and let the conversation move on. But instead, he said, low, “That bothering you?”

Leela hesitated, but only for a second. Then she sighed, rubbing a hand over her neck. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe.”

Joel stayed quiet, watching her.

She let out a quiet, humourless laugh. “It’s just... I don’t feel like her mother. Not really.” Her voice was even, but he could hear the strain underneath, the sharp edge of something she didn’t want to say aloud. “I do everything I’m supposed to. Feed her. Hold her. Change her. But it’s just... a list to get through.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “I thought it would be different. I know it's such an awful thing to say.”

Joel felt that like a punch to the gut. He knew what she meant. Knew how goddamn isolating it could be—to go through the motions, do the right thing, and still feel like you’re on the outside looking in.

“She’s yours, darlin',” he said after a moment. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing—at making sense of feelings, at giving comfort. He was trying. “That’s what matters. Sometimes it's not a magic switch, you can't just flip it on and feel it. Sometimes, you grow to love someone. Over time, energy, effort.”

Leela scoffed, quiet, barely there. “That all it takes?”

“No,” Joel admitted. “But it’s good enough.”

She finally looked at him then, something cautious in her expression, something raw. He didn’t push. Didn’t try to say anything else. Just let the silence stretch, easy and open, not asking for more than she was willing to give.

Leela swallowed, nodding slightly, like she was tucking the words away, considering them.

The space between them, once weighed down by hesitation, by careful sidesteps and unspoken rules, felt… lighter. Like the tension that had settled into the cracks between their words was finally easing, letting some warmth slip through.

And that? That did something to him.

His throat worked around something unspoken, and he rolled his shoulders back, shifting from feet to feet, like he could physically shake whatever the hell was loose inside him. The words that wanted to come didn’t.

Instead, he settled on something simpler. Something safer.

“You should get some rest.”

Leela’s gaze lingered, searching, like she was trying to read something in his face. Then she nodded, flashing a grin. “Sure,” she murmured. “Goodnight, Joel.”

Joel held her gaze for a moment longer. His fingers flexed at his sides, a familiar itch settling in his chest, the kind that always came when he stood in doorways when someone was walking away and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow or stay put.

He watched her retreat into the room, disappear behind the cracked door, and stand there for a moment before finally turning away.

The door was open again. And that was the thing about doors.

They worked both ways.

X

While on the road, Joel had spent years sleeping in places that barely counted as beds. Hard ground. Rusted truck seats. Creaking, sagging mattresses in abandoned buildings where one wrong turn meant waking up dead. Even now, safe inside these walls, inside this town where people thought fences and routine were enough to keep the bad out, behind homes with locked doors—well, should have locked doors—he never truly slept deep.

Always on alert. Always half-ready. Even in the comfort of a home he could call his.

Joel lay on the couch, stiff as the thing itself, staring into the rough fabric. He wasn’t asleep—he never really was—but he kept his back turned anyway. It felt like the right thing to do, a courtesy or some form of privacy in a house too damn small to actually have any.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that. Long enough for the warmth of the fire to ebb. Long enough to hear the wind pick up outside, rattling at the windows. Long enough to wonder if Leela had finally managed to fall asleep.

He exhaled through his nose and, without really thinking about it, rolled over onto his side, eyes shifting toward the bedroom.

Leela was out cold.

Her hair had been pulled back into a loose braid, but strands had escaped, curling softly against her cheek. One hand dangled into the mattress as if she’d fallen asleep patting Maya and never quite finished. He could see the slow rise and fall of her chest, deep and steady, her body given over to exhaustion.

Joel frowned as his eyes drifted lower. The blanket had slipped, barely covering her waist, her legs left bare to the chill of the night. One knee peeked out, the curve of it catching the dim, murky light of the bedside lamp. He felt his jaw tighten, his fingers flexing at his side. Wasn’t she cold?

But then his eyes landed on the baby in front of her, and the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding eased right out of him.

Maya was not asleep. Flat on her back, legs kicking sharp, barbed movements, her tiny fingers flexing in the air, opening and closing like she was trying to grab something invisible. Every so often, she let out a soft little coo, her breath light, testing, careful not to wake her mother.

Joel squinted. Lifted his head a little. Maybe she was just shifting in her sleep.

Nope, the kid was fully awake. Big, round eyes blinking up at the ceiling, mouth open in a little round ‘o’ of discovery, her hands reaching for her own damn feet, like she’d only just realized they were attached to her.

He huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. He could just leave her be. She wasn’t crying. Wasn’t fussing. She'd fall asleep on her own.

But then she spotted him.

Her entire little body bucked, like the excitement was too much for her tiny limbs to contain. A bright, panting laugh bubbled from her mouth, and her hands curled, fists flailing like wanted to launch herself toward her.

Joel sighed. That was it. No walking away now.

Ignoring the slow, persistent cramp in his back, he shifted, pressing his hands into the pullout and pushing himself upright. His knees popped when he stood, and he winced, rolling his shoulders as he made his way into the bedroom. The floor groaned under his feet, but Leela didn’t stir. She was too far gone, too lost to the bruises and the exhaustion pressing her under.

Maya, on the other hand—beamed up at him, wiggling harder, completely unbothered by the late hour, her tiny hands batting at the air.

Joel sighed through his nose and crouched down beside the bed. He held up a finger to his lips. “Ssh, ssh,” he murmured like she had any damn understanding of the concept.

Her fists continued to flail, little feet kicking the air, and he sighed, leaning down to scoop her up. She fit into his arms easily, the way she always did—small and naming the nook to herself, all warm skin and bundled sleepiness. Sleep fired right out of his system.

“You're gonna wake your poor mama,” he whispered to her.

Shifting Maya against his chest, he glanced at Leela again. She hadn’t moved a muscle, fast asleep. But the blanket had slipped low, barely covering her waist, her arms left uncovered to the cold.

Joel hesitated for only a second before leaning over, taking the edge of the comforter and tucking it around her, careful not to wake her. The fabric pooled at her shoulder, and she sighed quietly in her sleep, sinking into the warmth of the bed, but not waking.

Good. She was finally catching up on sleep. When was the last time he'd seen that girl rest? Never. She'd always woken up the earliest, wandering between her papers and blackboards in the living room.

Maya let out a content little hum against his shoulder, and Joel blew out a breath, stepping back out of the bedroom and into the dimly lit living room. He wasn’t going to bother putting her back on the bed. She was too awake for that.

Instead, he plunged back onto the couch, settling into the cushions and adjusting her against his chest. She curled into him easily, her featherlight weight pressing against his ribs. She hummed again, a soft, breathy little thing, and then—one of her fists landed against his sternum with a dull thump.

Joel huffed, peering down at her. “You tryin’ to knock the wind outta me, trouble?”

Maya lifted her head to blink up again, dark eyes round and glassy in the dim light, looking like she had something important to say. Then her fist lifted again, this time smacking more of a lazy pat than anything with real intent.

He narrowed a playful glare on her, shifting her a little higher against him. He poked at her cheek. “We got some problems, or is this just your way of lettin’ me know you’re still awake?”

She didn’t answer—fucking obviously—but she did something close to it. Her mouth rounded in a small, exaggerated ooh, and her fingers fumbled against his shirt before one of them caught onto his.

Joel felt the soft, clumsy pull of her grip, then the unmistakable wet warmth of her mouth closing around the tip of his finger.

He grimaced, but not in any real discomfort. “Great, there you go. You're lucky you're so beautiful.”

Maya suckled lazily, brows furrowing like she was concentrating really hard on the task, and Joel exhaled, letting her gnaw as much as she wanted.

Joel stared at the ceiling, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing slow, careful circles against her back.

She was a happier baby now. Not screaming. Not crying as much. Just there. Comfortable and safe.

He swallowed against the feeling mashing against his ribs. His jaw unclenched, let his head fall back against the couch, eyes slipping shut. And he let out the longest breath known to man.

It had been years—years since he’d felt this weight, this warmth, this need pressed against him. It was a different life, a different world, but somehow, it wasn’t. His body still knew this, still remembered the rhythm of it, the quiet intimacy of a baby trusting him enough to just be here, curled up against his chest, with no fear, no hesitation.

And goddamn him, but he loved it. Loved the small breaths puffing against his collarbone. Loved the way she looked up at him, slow and sleepy, tapping her tiny knuckles against him like she was checking to make sure he was still there. Loved that he didn't have to think about anything, not feel like the whole world was closing in.

Loved this.

He wasn’t thinking about the past. No, he wasn’t. But if he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t admit it.

The sound of the front door unlocking jolted him.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, his entire body tensing for a fight as his hand instinctively curled around Maya’s small back, protective, ready. His other hand curled into a loose fist at his thigh.

The door eased open with a quiet creak, and a familiar silhouette stepped inside.

Ellie.

“Joel?” she whispered, peering at him in confusion.

Joel just stared at her. Not because she was here—she was always stopping by when she damn well pleased—but because for the first time in his life, he was the one who forgot to lock the damn door.

Maya shifted against his chest, making a soft noise, her tiny fingers still curled around his. Joel gave her a small, reassuring bounce as if she’d needed one.

Ellie, meanwhile, was still standing there, taking in the sight of him on the couch, a whole baby in his arms, and the bedroom door cracked open just enough to hint at the woman asleep inside. The pretty neighbour that had Joel all riled up.

Her eyebrows lifted and mouth twitched as she crossed her arms. “This isn’t a hostage situation, right? Am I an accomplice now?”

Joel sent her a flat look. “Whatever gave that away?”

Ellie then continued to stare at him and at Maya.

It was the kind of look Joel had gotten used to over the years, the one where she tried to figure out if she was hallucinating. Because she’d seen Joel Miller do a lot of things—wrangle Clickers, nurse a cold one, fix up a rifle—but sitting on his couch, cradling a whole-ass baby like that? It was a new one. Like unlocking a new character in a video game.

Her lips pressed together, eyes still flicking between him and the kid, and then—she snorted.

“Oh, man,” she whispered, shaking her head, a shit-eating grin spreading over her face. “I wish I had a camera to capture this gold.”

Joel sighed. “Alright, get on with it.”

Grinning, Ellie plopped herself down beside him, the whole couch shaking, immediately leaning in close to peer at Maya. Almost as if she was the first infant she'd seen in her life.

“Hi, baby,” she cooed, voice going all high-pitched and ridiculous. “Hiiii.”

Maya blinked at her, unmoving, her fists curled safely in her mouth, her tiny brows furrowing as if she were trying to figure out just who the hell this new person was.

Ellie wiggled a finger in front of her. “Here. Go on, grab it.”

Maya did not. She just kept staring, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, utterly mystified by the sudden intrusion.

Joel huffed. “Guess she ain’t impressed.”

“Guess she’s got taste, you dick,” Ellie shot back. Then, her face softened, a little smirk curling her lips. “She’s fucking adorable. Look at those eyes, damn.” Joel barely had time to process the warmth that spread through his chest before Ellie tacked on, “So, definitely not yours.”

His scoff came out before he could stop it. “Oh, real funny, kid.”

Ellie chuckled, finally settling back against the couch, still watching Maya like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “How come they’re here?”

Joel didn’t go into the details, never liked to. About Leela’s bruises, about how she’d been too damn stubborn for her own good, about how he’d practically had to drag her in here to sleep in his bed.

Instead, he just muttered, “Blackout. Gonna head back in the morning and check it out.”

Ellie hummed like she knew there was more to it but didn’t feel like prying.

For a while, they just sat there in silence, and Joel simply let himself watch. The room was dim, the fire in the hearth burned low, throwing flickering shadows across the worn wooden floors. The cold pressed against the windows, creeping in through the cracks, but in here, it was warm—quiet, steady. Both in him and around him.

Ellie leaned in closer, her breath puffing softly against Maya’s round little cheek as she wiggled her fingers in front of her face. “What about this? You like this?” she murmured, tapping her tiny nose, and making a series of stupid clicking sounds.

Maya blinked, floored by this, her wide eyes tracking Ellie’s every move like she was watching the most fascinating thing in the world.

It took another few moments, but then—finally—Maya’s tiny fingers reached out, wrapping shyly around Ellie’s outstretched one. Not tight, not possessive, just curious. Testing.

Joel felt that feeling again, twisting deep in his ribs, imperceptive and calm and unnameable. He could get used to that feeling. It plugged every scar, physical and mental, until his shoulders felt ten times lighter.

The kid he’d sort of raised, playing with the baby he was yet to.

And for the first time in a long time, that muddle just… settled. It was late, too late in life for this kind of thing. But hell, cut him some slack.

Joel exhaled slowly, staring into the last of the fire, watching as the embers pulsed and flickered, struggling to stay alive. His hand absently smoothed over Maya’s back, following the slow rise and fall of her breathing, feeling the tiny weight of her against his chest. She was still. Not fussing. Just there.

Ellie shifted beside him, stretching her legs out, resting her arms against her knees. She wasn’t in a hurry to fill the silence. She just sat there, watching him in that way of hers, like she saw more than she let on.

“So,” she finally said, voice casual. “How’re things between you and…?”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Just flicked her chin toward the bedroom.

Leela was still dead to the world, sunk into the kind of sleep that didn’t let you turn over, didn’t let you dream. Her hand had slipped out from beneath the blanket, fingers curled loosely against the mattress. He wondered how long it had been since she’d let herself rest like that, without one ear open for some threat, without her body coiled tight, waiting for the next hang-up.

Joel looked away. He shifted slightly, adjusting Maya, keeping his voice even. “There’s nothing between us.”

Ellie hummed like she wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, no shit.” She stretched her arms behind her head, smirking. “She’s way out of your league.”

Joel snorted, shaking his head. “No argument here.”

He didn’t need Ellie to tell him that. He was thickheaded, but he wasn't blind. Leela was… Leela. Stunning in that exotic way, compassionate as a human, insanely intelligent. And him? What was he exactly, a cut-throat? A fighter? A relentless fucking human who just refused to die? Twenty years ago, a woman like that wouldn’t have given him the time of day, much less a second glance. A girl like her, back in the world before, would’ve had a whole life ahead of her, a whole set of possibilities. Not this. Not him.

And maybe that’s how it should’ve been. Maybe that’s why this didn’t make any sense.

He tensed his grip on Maya and felt the way she instinctively burrowed against him, curling her little fingers into the fabric of his shirt. She cooed again, watching his mouth move to form words.

He could be something for her. If Leela wanted it, he could carve out a space in Maya's life, be her constant, be her safety net. Hell, be this baby girl's father. He would compromise in a blink. That was different. That was right.

But having Leela herself? That was something else entirely. That was dangerous. That was selfish. There were too many ways it could go wrong. Too many ways it would end badly.

Not because of him, or her, or anything either of them did—just because that was the way life went. He wasn’t made for this kind of thing anymore. Wasn’t built for it. He was too damn old, too set in his ways. And even if she—somehow—wanted this, wanted him, what then? How long until he fucked it up? How long until he lost it?

The way he always did.

He swallowed hard. “I’m too old for her,” he managed to mutter.

Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You're fucking kidding. The world ended. There is no standard. And you still care about what, an age gap? Brownie points? Jesus, Joel. You've been through too much to care.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. Just kept his gaze on the fire, jaw tight.

It wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about how it looked or what people would say. Hell, no one would care. He wouldn't care. They were past that kind of bullshit.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t still impossible.

Because Joel knew himself. He knew what it was like to want something real, to care about someone so much it hollowed you out from the inside. And he knew how fast it could all go to hell.

It was about the fact that she still had so much time. That she could still find someone real, someone better. That she deserved more than a haunted, greying man, who could barely sleep through the night, combing through his days, who lived waiting for the next thing to go wrong.

And she deserved better than a man too tired, too worn down by life, to give her more than what little he had left.

Ellie sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Y’know…” she started, then stopped.

Joel glanced at her, brow furrowing slightly.

She didn’t go on right away. Just drummed her fingers against her knee, staring into the fire, her face unreadable. For once, she wasn’t running her mouth, wasn’t making a joke to cut through whatever was settling between them. She was thinking. That alone put him on edge.

Finally, she said, “It’s different. These last few weeks. Even Tommy sees it.”

Joel frowned, not at the words themselves, but at the way she said them—slow, cautious, like she wasn’t just talking to him but trying to make sense of it for herself.

Ellie had always been good at reading him, sometimes better than he wanted. But this—this was different.

She flitted her gaze toward the bedroom, where Leela was still out cold, her body barely stirring under the blankets. Then to Maya, curled up against him, tiny fingers tangled in his shirt, her soft weight pressed into his chest. Finally, she looked back at him.

She didn’t spell it out. Didn’t need to.

Joel swallowed, shifting slightly where he sat, adjusting Maya’s weight in his arms. His hand smoothed down her back, more out of habit than anything else. He glanced toward the bedroom too, toward Leela, who hadn’t moved an inch. Yes, it was different.

But Ellie wasn’t done. She hesitated, rolling something over in her head before finally letting it out.

“It’s… good, y’know? You having this nice thing.” She waved a vague hand toward the baby, toward Leela. “You don't usually let yourself have nice things. Something that’s not just me.”

Joel’s breath caught.

Ellie had always been his reason for waking up in the morning, the one thing keeping him tethered to whatever life he had left. And she knew that. Knew it in the way she carried herself, in the way she fought with tooth and claw to prove she didn’t need him to keep her standing. That he had his own life. But now, sitting there, she wasn’t mocking, wasn’t teasing. She was just… saying it. And she was goddamn right.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just pushing forward because he had to, wasn’t just surviving out of habit. He wasn’t looking over his shoulder, waiting for the axe to fall.

He had something to come back to. Something steady. Something small and warm and his, even if he didn’t know what the hell to do with it yet.

He looked down at Maya, at her tiny, trusting weight in his arms, at the way she twitched slightly in her sleep, lips parting around a breath. His hand smoothed over her back again.

Ellie saw the moment it clicked. The way his face shifted, just slightly. She smirked, satisfied. And that her good work here was done.

Then, just like that, she clapped her hands on her knees and stood up. “Well,” she said, voice slipping back into that familiar teasing lilt, “guess I’ll let you get back to your hostage situation.”

Joel rolled his eyes, settling deeper into the couch as Maya nuzzled against his chest. The kid was out cold now, her little fist still tangled in his shirt.

Ellie was already heading for the door when she threw out in a whisper, “Oh—almost forgot. Maria asked me to tell you to bring your girl by the dam sometime this week.” She smirked, holding up air quotes. “Said she’d like ‘inventor insight.’”

His expression deadpanned. “Maria ain’t letting her go anywhere near machines.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Ooh-kay. Controlling much?”

Joel gave her a warning look. “Ellie.”

She dismissed him with a wave. “I’ll just tell her myself.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, already seeing how that would go. If Leela knew Maria was interested, she’d want to help. She’d go, eager to prove herself, eager to be useful. And then she’d get herself hurt again, pushing past whatever limits she had, just like she always did. That wasn’t happening.

“She’s stayin’ away,” he muttered. “She’ll go, then want to help. Overdo it. Get herself hurt or worse.” He gave Ellie a pointed look. “Better not.”

Ellie let out a sharp laugh, all evil intent. “And you’re telling me there’s nothing between you two?”

“Ellie,” he hissed, too fast, too sharp—just as Maya stirred slightly against his chest, her little face scrunching. He froze, holding his breath, waiting to see if she’d wake.

Ellie’s smirk was damn near insufferable.

“Denial,” she sang out, drawing out the word like it was the funniest thing she’d heard all day.

Joel sent her a flat look.

Ellie just wiggled her fingers in a wave and made for the door once more. “Night, old man.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving him alone in the quiet house, the fire crackling low in the hearth. Joel exhaled slowly, his hand smoothing absently over Maya’s back again.

Denial. Maybe. He wasn't ruling it out yet.

X

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And to those in the reblogs: thank you all so much, and I'd love to keep hearing more!!

@darknight3904 , @guiltyasdave , @letsgobarbs , @helskemes , @jodiswiftle , @tinawantstobeadoll , @bergamote-catsandbooks , @cheekychaos28 , @randofantfic , @justagalwhowrites , @emerald-evans , @amyispxnk , @corazondebeskar-reads , @wildemaven , @tuquoquebrute , @elli3williams , @bluemusickid }

[idyllicsam]

I was really attached to my grandfather before he passed. Like, lowkey, way more than I had ever loved or will love anyone. He was my everything. He was more of a father figure to me than my dad because my dad was always away for work.

So when I'd finally moved to another country, away from my grandfather, and it had been a year or so since he'd visited me there, I'd gotten sick of talking to him everyday. I was thirteen. You could say I didn't know any better when I really, and I mean really, fucking did.

So on new years' night, right before school reopened after winter break, when I was at home watching YouTube videos of five-minute-crafts, I heard my mom's voice break in the kitchen. It's a very vivid memory. It was like 11 at night, and it was honestly too late for me to be awake at all. My mom wanted me to sleep properly because I was an insomniac like my father.

But begrudgingly, with all the fear in my heart, I walked to the kitchen that overlooked the living room. My mother saw me, and she almost got scared. Then, she walked over to the couch where my dad was sitting, and plopped down next to him. Her nose was sniffing. Her eyes were red.

And then, when I called out to her. She wouldn't answer. She just wouldn't. So I went up to her, and she hid her phone screen. I pulled on her sleeve as hard as I could, asking her what was wrong. My voice kept getting louder and louder, until my dad handed me the phone.

I didn't dare to look at the screen. I couldn't. Not yet. Not until she said it was okay for me to do it. Then, my father said, "She needs to know. She's old enough."

So I looked. And my heart dropped. Because on the screen, was my grandfather's photo. Tubes attached to his body, eyes closed, the weakest I'd ever seen him be. He was in his early sixties. He wasn't even that old, and his organs were all failing for no apparent reason. I looked at my mother in horror, because she had known. And she hadn't told me.

For days, my grandfather was at the hospital ten thousand miles away in our home country, and my mother didn't bother to tell me.

I cried. I yelled. It was the loudest I'd ever cried. No child could've thrown a tantrum like that. I yelled, I screamed—snot was coming out of my nose and tears flowed like there was an unlimited supply.

I'd grown up too quickly until I was thirteen. Because when I saw my grandfather like that—a man I still love more than my own mother—I was five again. I was five, and I missed sitting on his shoulders while he bought me a lollipop from the corner store.

The next day, I went to school. And I didn't talk to anybody. That night, my grandfather passed. And not one single tear came out.

I questioned myself a lot that night. I couldn't sleep. Was I heartless for crying when he was alive, instead of now? Was I a stone cold bitch for avoiding talking to him on video calls?

And then, I still went to school the next day. Even though my mother said no. I went. Because there was no point of me sitting at home when he was ten thousand miles away—somewhere I couldn't reach him no matter how hard I tried.

I turned into a stoic clown for my family. I wouldn't let my mother cry, no matter how sad she was. I'd make shitty jokes, talk about stupid drama at school—again, I was twenty-five at thirteen.

For more than five years now, that's what I've been. I don't cry about him in front of my family. I even forgot his death anniversary this year, until the next day. On January third this year, I sat in my room, reading a book with the air-conditioner on when I realized, "Oh shit, my grandfather died yesterday six years ago."

And honestly, that's just what grief is. It doesn't go away with time. It stays. It gets rooted into you so much that you forget some of it. But it stays.

No one prepares you for how crippling grief is, last year my mom died of cancer. I watched her decline so rapidly that my brain couldn't understand who I was looking at by the time she passed. I couldn't understand who I was by the time she passed because I had to become a vessel who makes appointments, dresses, nurses, cooks and an entity who does not sleep. I did it all alone. The reality is that cancer eats away at everything, it lives on even after the patient dies. It ate away at every part of me, I couldn't get out of bed, I had sleep paralysis, I couldn't stop seeing her... like that. They asked me if she's my grandmother when they carried her out of the house. She was in her early 50s. Do you understand? In 3 months, she began to look like she was 80. Everyone wanted me to move on after a month, no one called anymore, not even a text. I thought I was alone when she was alive, but this was a new type of isolation. One that I barely survived. (thank you to my mutuals and tumblr for being an outlet)

It's been a year and 6 months, today I realized she's not the first thing I think of in the morning, or the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. I couldn't even call to do paperwork before, now I'm forgetting why it was even that difficult.

The sun's out, I think i'm going to get ice cream without feeling guilty that it's not something she can do anymore.

[ladyrosemone]

The Other Side Of Paradise

Using Google Translate here! 🗣‼️‼️ This is an intermediate of part one, as the Batfamily's point of view just like you had yours, official part two coming soon! Also my question box is open (I think) and without further ado, enjoy the read! (Thanks for enjoying the read 😭🫶🏼)

Tw!: Profanity (use of prostitute as a derogatory insult), murder, murder scene described, negligence.

Tag List: @tsuniio, @simpingpandas, @dakotali, @softycheol.

Dick is always first.

The first child acrobat of the circus, the first son of Bruce Wayne, the first Robin, the first brother, the first everything.

And he was proud of that, from being an orphan to the pride of Gotham it was not an easy path and much less a happy one, but amidst so much pain and loss he is grateful for having a constant; his family.

Dysfunctional and somewhat shaky, where violence and beatings are the language of love, they find comfort in knowing that they have each other.

He has Alfred as his honorary grandfather, who is the wisest person he will ever meet again.

Bruce, who even with his flaws is his father, who gave him a chance and never abandoned him, making him the man he is today.

Jason, the most distant but beloved of his brothers, knows that he can always count on him and his strength at all times.

Tim, his chair boy, his best confidant, and the best detective in the world, trusts him with his life over anything he can't find.

And Damian, his little brother, his favorite boy in the whole world, the Robin to his Batman, what he wouldn't do for his sharp-tongued brother; even when he came to the mansion threatening and stabbing everything, never gave up on him and the result was completely worth it.

His sisters are also dear to him; Stephenie and Cassandra are strong and independent, but also loyal and loving. Barbara may not be a sister -she still has her father- but she has earned a place in the family and is considered sister as much as Steph and Cass.

Of course he will never leave Duke behind, the newest, the ray of sunshine among them all, he expects great things from him.

Dick is always first.

Dick is the last one to remember you.

Jason hates remembering his life before the well.

He doesn't want to forget, there are memories that still keep him sane; his mother, when Bruce adopted him, his first patrol as Robin. You.

But if it were up to him, he would never talk about them again or even acknowledge their existence. They are chains that bind him, quicksand that make him sink whenever he tries to move forward and personally he is fed up.

Because no matter how many villains he catch and how many more kill, how many people save, nothing will take away the guilt of not having saved that person. Don't save you.

Of not finding the strength in himself to look for you now, because for you, there is nothing but shame and shame for himself. The first friend he had, the first brother he had, his first great loss, his only great regret.

Jason hates remembering his life before the well.

Jason hates being the first to discover your new identity.

Tim is a genius.

Genius falls short, his brain works like a computer within a computer within another; Wires instead of neural conduits and electricity instead of energy is what happens in that brilliant brain of yours.

He was never an ordinary person, he is ambitious and resourceful, intelligent and determined to get what he wants.

That started with the mantle of Robin.

When Jason was still in the portrait, he wanted to be part of the duo; He trained and prepared, ready to help from the Batcave until the Joker thing happened. And even when it felt bad to carry the title of the bat's henchman, he felt proud that his perseverance took him to the top.

And it was the beginning of his destiny.

Robin, Red Robin, the robin's mantle is and will be a part of him that he will never let go, but he is also the one who remembers every detail of every case of every villain of every attack in Gotham, is the one they turn to when they need to confirm exact information. Nothing escapes him, ever.

Tim is a genius.

Tim passed you by and lost.

Damian is the perfect heir.

His father is the most powerful man in Gotham and Batman himself, his mother is a skilled and lethal assassin, daughter of a dynasty of the world's fiercest assassins, and he is the result of the cross between the two.

He is perfect.

That is why he will never deign to look down on the unworthy; Richard is fine, Jason is worthy because served his mother and grandfather, Tim still doubts it, women are strong allies and that new boy has potential. Alfred and his father, of course, are worthy of his obedience.

And you? You are worse than a disappointment.

A stain, a mistake, someone who should never have existed, rotting his perfect legacy, you should be thankful he didn't kill you when he had the chance.

It's not that you deserve it, you don't deserve anything from it.

You are so insignificant to him that not even in his dreams did he worry about your whereabouts, of course he knew that you were no longer there, he had to watch you in case you stole something when you left like the thieving prostitute who was probably your mother, but when you did not return, he felt triumphant for having taken care of -without killing- the family problem.

Damian is the perfect heir.

Damian feels like his throne means nothing in front of you.

Bruce is a father.

He never considered himself one, maybe he wanted it once, when his own father was alive to learn from him, but that dream died when his people did it in the alley.

Despite everything, he tried to be a father to Dick, and his efforts, although questionable, worked. Then Jason with his bright eyes and bubbly personality, taken away too soon, let go too soon.

Even now, so near and so far, it is his greatest loss as Batman, as Bruce Wayne.

Tim was...complicated; arrived when he had not overcome his grief and treated him in the most atrocious way he had ever imagined treating his children. Still, he proved to him time and time again that was more than expected.

Damian was unexpected of an unexpected union; son of Talia Al'Ghul and grandson of Ra's Al'Ghul, he awaited a bloodthirsty and indomitable child. Which started badly ended well, his youngest son is on his way to writing his destiny far from his ancestry, and in his heart knows that did the best he could.

Barbara, although not their daughter, is part of their family, Stephenie and Cassandra are their beloved daughters, and Duke is officially their new son.

Bruce is a father.

Bruce is not your father.

Do others really have a voice in this narrative? You barely remember them, you barely knew them, much less you care about them. Yes, even Alfred.

"I don't understand, there's nothing more" Tim murmurs, looking at the images on the Batcomputer, reading the documents at the same time, his eyes bloodshot and his fingers trembling from the coffee laced with an energy drink that just drank "There must be more"

"You searched enough, you should get some sleep" Barbara intervenes, in her wheelchair "I'll cover you"

"No, there's something I'm overlooking" he insists "I know, I just have to look carefully"

"Tell me it's not that thing again" Jason complains, arriving at the Batcave with his Red Hood suit on, barely removing his helmet.

Dick nods, his usual smile not drawing his face, just a grimace "We're close to finding it, just...something's missing"

The image is clear; a party room, with people dancing and laughing, as precise as a painting but recent that appeared in the newspaper. All of these people are families of dangerous underworld groups.

Lords of drugs, weapons and human trafficking, ex-convicts and people who work for villains are...enjoying the party.

It wouldn't be relevant if it weren't the photo before the tragedy.

⚠️ Description of crime scene, bodies and blood under the cut ⚠️

All of them, women and men, young and old, nothing more than a combined mass of blood and bones, guts scattered on the walls and decorations of the room.

The floor, the stairs, everything contaminated, women's bodies -which were getting smaller, then only limbs such as arms, hands and finally, fingers- arranged on the main staircase. They all point to something;

⚠️End of scene⚠️

A painting.

In the two photos, the painting of a house is what steals the attention; nothing special, nothing grand, just a painting of a gray wooden cave house, with the background of a distant city and without a signature, almost overlooked as another photo if it weren't for the canvases and the paint under his fingers when he touched it.

In both photos the painting is at the top of the stairs, in both the light was shining on them and in both it draws attention before anything else.

Why? What does it mean? What does it tell them?

"There must be something more than that, hidden among the corpses" says Damian, the most obsessed -besides Tim- in discovering the identity of the one who, for months, has left them clues after helping them anonymously, only a pseudonym in your name; The Savior.

Or that is how those who bring your messages to them have referred to you, speaking of you as a Saint, a savior among men, God himself who came down to protect them.

And they can't let that continue.

They must know if you are dangerous, if you are a potential threat or potential ally. They must discover you.

Alfred arrives with more coffee, because he knows his words won't be heard at that point; When the family becomes obsessed with something, they hardly let it go until they get their fill of it.

His eyes pursue that house; small and misaligned, painted in a very specific way, too specific.

Jason doesn't like to remember the past.

"Wasn't there a phantom surcharge on the accounts months ago?" He says in a low voice, almost lost if the echo of the cave had not returned the word to him.

"There are many like that" Tim murmurs without thinking about the matter "Hey-!"

Jason pushes him aside, typing furiously and searching through files, searching and searching remembering remembering until...A contract, simple and almost empty, with a late date and an unknown signature, the name blank but with an address and a photo; the photo of the painting.

The house.

"How did you...?" Tim was surprised, looking at that contract as if he had never looked at it before, reading carefully, sleep and fatigue fleeing his body.

Bruce looks on without speaking, but those who know him know that a war of insecurities is raging inside him; How did it happen? Who was it? When did do it? Has access to all he private accounts? Do has know their identities?

The clue has been revealed, the answer discovered, and the game is just beginning.

"I think it's time to arrange the pawns on the chess board" you say in your luxury suit, the highest in the tallest building in Gotham, looking at the flashing lights that fill the streets, looking at the outskirts of Gotham, looking at your next move, looking at the wide-screen camera that's embedded in the painting's window.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

all the times we used to have

best friend!rafe cameron x innocent!virgin!fem!reader

cw — fingering, very innocent and slightly oblivious reader, mentions of fighting

summary — rafe loves his best friend.

authors note — new au!!! please request

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

best friend!rafe who absolutely worships the ground that his best friend walks on. hes the type to rip off his jacket and place it over a puddle just so you can avoid dirtying your pretty shoes that you love so much.

best friend!rafe who would’ve normally never gotten so close with someone so completely opposite of him but is so extremely thankful he did. he wouldn’t know what to do without you.

best friend!rafe who is careful what he talks about around his best friend to avoid ruining her strictly positive perception of the world.

best friend!rafe who protects his best friend with his life. he once beat a guy within an inch of life at one of toppers party for giving her a dirty look. no one was ever allowed to disrespect you.

best friend!rafe who sometimes had to excuse himself to the bathroom when you’d come over in those pretty crop tops and extremely tiny shorts. when you bent over just enough, he was able to catch a glimpse of your lacy underwear that had his biting down to surprise a groan.

best friend!rafe who was overly touchy with you but said my was normal for a friendship. its how things worked.

best friend!rafe who has driven and paid for everything during the duration of your friendship. you see something you want? done. bought instantly. you want to go somewhere? he’s already outside waiting on you with his truck.

best friend!rafe who lets you decorate the passenger side of the car and no longer lets anyone else sit there. if he picks up his boys? they sit in the back or he takes another car.

best friend!rafe who exchanges “i love you”s with you because he convinced you its what friends do. you loved each other so it was normal.

best friend!rafe who stayed up late at night wondering if things would ever be different between the two of you. especially when you slept over at each others houses and woke up in bed together all cuddled up.

best friend!rafe who convinced you that kissing was something all best friends did. it was a way to show they care about each other.

best friend!rafe who somehow managed to get you in his lap, grinding against him all needy as you shared a sloppy makeout session. when you asked what was rubbing up against you and why it was making you tingle down there, he told you it was nothing and it just happened when two people really care about each other.

best friend!rafe who was the first to ever finger you and work you through your first orgasm because you were on your period and it hurt so bad. your back pressed to his chest with a towel beneath you as his fingers plunged deep inside of you at such a soft and slow pace. and when a mix of cum and blood seeped onto his hand and you hid your face out of embarrassment, he comforted you and said it wasn’t a big deal. its what best friends are for.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Punish me.

Pairing: Boss!Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 5853

Summary: What happens when your boss punishes you but you like it too much? You look for more. And more. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of Y/N, legal unspecified age gap, power imbalance, dom!Joel / sub!reader, degradation, oral (m receiving), spanking, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl), initially dub-con but reader is very into it, risk of being caught, a little chocking if you squint, cream pie, squirting, reader has no description other than the clothes she is wearing, manipulation, slurs, pet names, reader calls Joel "Sir". This Joel is low-key inspired by Don Draper from Mad Men and the whole thing was also low-key inspired by Secretary (2002). Let me know if I forgot something important, I will add it right away. A/N: Written for Never Have I Ever challenge hosted by the lovely @yxtkiwiyxt , this was my prompt and I had so much fun working on it! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to join! 🥰 Thanks to @aurorawritestoescape for being the most precious beta and @joelmillerisapunk for being the best support I could ask for and for letting me yap about it for a month and half lol I love you so much 🥹❤️ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any. Thanks to anyone who will read! masterlist | Joel Miller masterlist

“Mr Miller wants to see you in his office at 3” When Pam called you to say that a shiver ran down your spine.

Your last client was the owner of a large brewing company, a self-centered rich asshole that you couldn’t stomach in any way.

He had been pressing you for weeks for you to come up with the most sexist and stupidest ad campaign ever, all while you were trying to present him with new ideas that didn't necessarily include 10 women in bikinis at the feet of one man or other such things that had been done 200 times already .

You hated the guy with every fiber of your being and you told him exactly what you were thinking about him when he called you a prude and argued that he could show you what a real man was.

Seeing his sleezy smile as he winked at you and told you that you needed to fuck more was your last straw.

You were glad to be rid of him but you knew well that your boss would not have the same opinion. 

Right out of college what you wanted was to learn the profession as soon as possible, and you wanted to learn it from the best in the business. 

Joel Miller owned the most famous advertising agency in town, so you did everything to get an internship there.

You understood why he was so successful from day one.

__________________________________

Pam was sitting at her desk as usual when you walked in. 

Her desk was a few feet from the door of Mr. Miller's office. 

A large, black, solid wooden door with a fine frame, one of those that seemed to lead to the rooms forbidden to poor commoners. 

She just looked up from the computer screen to tell you to come in, Mr. Miller was waiting for you, and then she was back to work.

Pam was a woman in her 60s, blond hair perpetually pulled back in an elegant bun, a pearl necklace around her neck, cachemire sweaters in all pastel colors, silk blouses and matching skirts.

She looked very neat, austere, you could swear you never saw her smile but heck, she was really good at her job and had been managing Mr. Miller's impossible schedule for many years.

You knocked on the door feeling your heart in your throat, thinking you were one step away from being fired.

Joel's voice bounced through the door, heavy and raspy, "come in.”

You entered trying to maintain a composure.

“Good morning, Mr Miller, you wanted to see me?” 

He put down the papers he was perusing on the desk and looked up at you.

“Oh, it's you,” he said in a very calm voice. “The one who made me lose a lot of money.”

“I...I'm sorry but the guy was too much of an asshole for me to take it,” you spat out.

You knew Joel appreciated people who were standing their ground.

“Excuse me, should I care? You just made a thousand dollar check disappear.” 

The silence that enveloped the room was unreal.

You stood in front of his stately mahogany desk, trying to keep your back straight and your shoulders high.

Of course, he didn’t care, he was an asshole too.

________________________________

He had conducted the interviews personally, without delegating it to his subordinates.

He hired you himself, without missing the opportunity to intimidate you in the meantime.

The first day you had come in you were shy, awkward, afraid of your own shadow. 

How did you think you could deliver a presentation in front of a client if you looked like a frightened little bird that had just fallen out of the nest?

Joel said he took a risk hiring you, the least you could do was to show him how much you really wanted the job.

Eventually you learned to fight. 

It hadn't been pleasant or even easy, Joel wouldn't let you get away with anything, criticized your every idea, sometimes blatantly mocked you. 

He had pushed you to work harder than you would have imagined and you were eager to let him know that you were worth something, that you were not just an honors graduate but could translate your knowledge into the practical field.

You also owed it to yourself. 

Your parents supported you but had always told you that you were not the type to work in advertising.

Too kind, too quiet, too sweet. 

“Honey, are you sure? Wouldn't you rather do some other job?” your mother always asked you. 

No, you didn't want to do anything else. And you were going to prove it to everybody.

You became a sucker for Joel’s attention in no time.

Whatever type he wanted to give to you. 

As you progressed and learned, he became gentler, too much so at times. 

Grazing your knee under the table at meetings, touching your waist way too much as you walked down the hallways talking about some projects, playfully slapping your ass once, after successfully signing your first contract with a client.

It was becoming a relationship that other colleagues didn't have to notice.

He was your mentor, your inspiration, the person who had taken you under his wing and taught you to fly.

Along with the desire to do well, however, something else grew in you over time.

Arousal, desire, need. 

It lingered in the air while you were trying to flap your wings and stay aloft.

_______________________________

“Furthermore…” his voice dropped and deepened, “we don’t tolerate this kind of language here.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the clear change in his voice. 

You knew what he was doing. 

And you liked it.

“Well, I’m sorry but there’s no other appropriate word to describe that person” you chirped.

You didn’t drop the asshole just to have this, you really hated the man with all you had, this was just a pleasant collateral damage. 

Joel being angry at you. 

Joel who wanted to punish you.

He ran a hand over his mustache, looking at you as if he wanted to devour you.

You felt your clit throb in anticipation.

He stood up from his chair, he was imposing, broad shoulders and awe-inspiring piercing eyes.

“Let me explain it to you properly. I don't care if he didn't meet your moral dictates, I don't give a damn if he was so obnoxious that he made you sick to your stomach, okay?” his voice was a thin, cold, steady blade.

“Yes, Mr. Miller” you swallowed, without breaking eye contact. “You acted like a whiny child,” he stated. “ And you made me lose a ton of money” 

His heavy step creaked faintly on the fine parquet floor. He was towering over you.

“Yeah, you said that already,” you rolled your eyes.

You would have sworn you were hearing Joel’s blood simmering in his veins and that was exactly what you wanted. 

“Do you think criminal lawyers like to defend murderers? Do you think they like their clients?” 

“No,” you muttered 

“Yeah, they don’t like them but they do it anyway because it's their job.” 

That was a little extreme example but he did make a point.

You were torn. 

Disappointing your mentor was the last thing you wanted but seeing him like that, ready to give  you a lesson was making you horny like nothing else. 

You craved it. 

“Do you know what they used to do to wayward children like you?” 

You could feel the warmth of his body with how close he had gotten.

“Yeah.” 

His eyes looked like onyx stones.

“Say it.” “They spanked them,” you finally let out.

“Yeah. You’re goddamn right, darling. They spanked them.” His words were a sheet of ice on which you couldn't wait to slide.

“Bend over the desk.” 

“No,” you tried to argue.

“I. Said. Bend.” He ordered, punctuating every word.

You raised an eyebrow, glaring at him, but finally gave in. 

You approached the desk, rested your elbows on it and jostled your ass out, poised on your heels. 

He positioned himself behind you, you turned to look at him, and he immediately hissed, 

"Eyes to the wall, missy." 

You huffed, returning your gaze to the large painting hanging behind the desk. 

His hands slid down your legs. 

It was the first time he touched you, the first time you felt his strong grip on your body, the first time his warmth penetrated your flesh.

“You really disappointed me today.” His voice was calm, low, but full of disgruntlement.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. 

“It's not enough,”

His hands had reached the hem of your skirt, raising it dangerously, pulling it up, exposing the edge of your thigh-high stockings and your panties. 

“Do you still think you deserve a place in this agency?” 

Panic welled up inside you, you felt your cheeks on fire and your hands trembling on the wood of the desk. 

You didn't want to lose everything you had worked for. 

Joel wouldn't sign any reference letters for you, you wouldn't get a job at any other agency, and your career would be over before it even started.

You remained stubbornly silent, trying not to be seen as weak, until he blurted out, 

“answer me.”

“Yes. I made a mistake.”

“You’re goddamn right, honey,” he replied wryly.”How will you fix this?”

That honey sounded like a mockery. Like you were still too soft to do the job and be successful at it. 

You hated it and it made your pussy throb at the same time.

“I will find a way, Mr. Miller.”

“We’ll see” he retorted “But you still deserve punishment, don't you think?”

“Yes,” you breathed reluctantly.

You didn’t like to admit that but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You wanted it too much. 

You wanted him too much.

You didn’t hear him fumbling with his pants, no zippers coming undone, no buttons slipping through the buttonhole.

You just felt his breath fanning over your back and his hand gripping at your hips.

You felt his gaze seeping into your flesh. 

You would have liked to turn around, tell him to get it over with and fuck you, but you didn’t. 

You stood still in your turn, feeling the tension bubbling in your chest while he seemed so calm and collected.

He was taking his time with you.

You sighed, just before you felt the air shift behind you and his hand landed deafly on your ass.

You gasped. 

Another slap had hit you. 

Harder than before.

Pain spread all over your butt, tingling, until it turned into a destabilizing pleasure. 

You had never done anything like that before and as disconcerting as it was to admit it, you liked it. 

You liked it like crazy.

You felt a slick of arousal wetting your panties while you moaned.

“Do you want some more?” 

You nodded eagerly. 

“Oh. You gotta use your word, I feel like I taught you that, right?” He tutted. 

“Yes.” You whispered “please” 

Instead of continuing, he walked over to the bar cabinet, poured himself a couple of fingers of whiskey into a glass, sat back down on his leather chair and looked you in the eyes.  

“Get out of here.”

You stood there watching him, hunched over his desk, wood still pressing on your clothed tits, feeling like you were in a fever dream. 

Had it really happened? 

The heat still throbbing on your ass cheek told you it had.

You stood up, straightened your skirt, your darting gaze metaphorically stabbing him. 

He had humiliated you. 

How had you let this happen? And most of all, why did you want more?

You left without looking back.

Pam wasn't at the desk when you left, you slipped out as quickly as possible, with one fixed thought in mind. 

______________

The next few days he ignored you. He started following another girl who had just arrived and he was behaving the way he had with you. 

Jealousy had never been a vice of yours. Never. But seeing him chuckle at her jokes, praise her for her efforts, smile at her, start calling her by her name like he had done with you made you furious.

It squeezed your chest in a cruel fist.

You had worked on the presentation for a market-leading make-up client, and fortunately for you, the CEO had been enthusiastic about your ideas.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much he was hurting you but despite the persistence with which you tried, you grew so hungry for him that all you were thinking about was finding a way to make him furious again. 

To get punished again. You hated having fallen for his game, but by now you were a fish seeking oxygen in the mesh of the fishing net.

You were trying to get his attention in every way without success.

At the peak of your desperation, you had passed an embarrassing number of times in front of his office in the hope that he would come out.

You kept meeting only Pam bringing coffee, folders or Joel's personal correspondence.

After a week she no longer seemed surprised to find you there, there was a kind of understanding in her gaze, a muted feminine solidarity, an ill-concealed displeasure.

“Honey, why do you do this to yourself?” she seemed to say.

You didn’t care. Your pussy didn’t care either.

______________

One day, when you saw Pam pass in the hallways during the lunch break, you decided to do something.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You had gotten up deliberately exclaiming, “Oh, I really need a coffee!” And you had pretended to head for the common room. At last you had turned the opposite corner and snuck into the hallway that led to Joel's office. You had to hurry.

You slipped inside in an instant and found yourself in front of the imposing door that led to the office of the object of your desires.

He was talking to someone on the phone, you could clearly hear his voice but none in response.

When he finished, you opened the door and entered, full of doubts and fears but the same moved by a disruptive urge you couldn't say no to.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Joel's rough voice greeted you. “I came to see my mentor,” you whispered. ”And to tell him that tomorrow we will sign the contract with the make-up company.”

You smiled, waiting for his reaction.

He demolished you immediately in response, 

“So? What do you want, a golden star? A kiss on the forehead?”

He raised an eyebrow mockingly staring at you.

“No, I just wanted to let you know,” you countered in a voice far too resentful for your taste.

You were turning on your heels to leave when you heard his voice say, 

“What is the real reason you are here?”

You turned again and looked at him. 

Elbows rested on the desk, the sleeves of the white shirt he wore rolled up to leave his muscular forearms exposed, rolling the platinum ring he wore on his middle finger around, his straight shoulders wrapped in the fabric that seemed to contain his broadness with difficulty, the first few buttons left open giving you a glimpse of a few freckles on his bronze chest. 

The posture of the boss judging you, sitting comfortably in his leather chair, a smirk plastered on his face, a defiant expression in his eyes. 

He was both sultry and irritating. 

You wanted to slap him but also take off your panties and sit on his cock. 

To be honest, you wanted to do both at the same time.

“You walked in here without asking Pam,” he noted amusedly, looking at you as if he could read your mind “What were you trying to do?” “Nothing,” you lied, fidgeting with a button on your shirt. “Just my job”

“I think you were trying to get on my nerves,” he suggested

You scoffed “You think you’re the center of my universe?”

“You’re the one in my office right now. Say what you want. Or leave. But I think you want to stay, am I right? Your pussy wants it.” 

You were speechless, totally caught off guard. 

“What do you need, darling?” He urged you, walking towards you. 

He raised a hand reaching for your cheek, brushing it with his thumb. 

His voice softened slightly, the knot in your stomach tightened. 

It felt manipulative. 

But also arousing when he gently pulled your lower lip open and grazed it with the pads of his fingers. 

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head to face him. 

His gaze was authoritative, demanding but also sweet, like he was trying to get you convinced that he was a good guy, just eager to give you something you wanted so much that you showed up uninvited to his office. 

“Punish me,” you breathed as he was sliding his fingers down your neck. 

“See? It wasn’t so difficult. This was all I needed to know,” he chuckled softly, right after grabbing you by the waist, gentleness instantly out of the menu, pulling up your skirt to expose your ass. 

“You want me to spank you again, am I right?” 

Your voice came out husky and broken, you only managed to mumble a “yes”, the most desperate yes you’ve ever said in your life. 

“That's what I was thinking,” he groaned

His hands were roaming your thighs “Hold-ups. Of course. You’re the target for that Agent Provocateur campaign we launched last month, aren't you?”

You would have laughed if you could but you felt his fingers graze the wet, sticky stain spreading across your panties and you gasped instead. 

And then his hand crushed on your ass cheek, his ring marked your skin, pain spreading across your skin, immediately replaced by an unbearable heat. 

It made you feel alive. 

You had his attention again.

One, two, three spanks burned your flesh, you could clearly feel a trickle of pleasure flowing out of you.

“How dare you come into my office just to provoke me? Don’t you know who I am? Huh, little slut?” 

“Yes,” you muttered. “yes Mr Miller but…” 

You had started this, you would have liked to say. 

You were the one flirting first. 

You were the one leading me to want you, this, always. 

Another slap hit you and you said nothing instead. You just moaned. 

A knock on the door stopped Joel in his tracks.

He froze with his hand high up in the air. 

“Who is it?” He asked nervously. 

He still held you tightly by the waist, you tried to wriggle free from his grip without success.

“It’s Pam,” her voice came muffled from outside the door. 

“Fuck” you whispered, you instantly looked around in panic for a place to hide. 

Not the bookcase, or the bar cabinet or the nice leather couch and armchair that were placed in front of it.

There was only one option.

“Get off of me,” you hissed “now!” 

Joel let go of you and you quickly cowered under the desk.

He sat down and spread his legs just enough to give you room as he moved his chair as close to the edge as he could.

“Come in” he ordered, trying to regain his composure. 

Pam cracked the door open and entered the office. 

You couldn’t see her but you could hear her light footsteps approaching the desk and her voice saying “I brought Mrs. Jones’ presentation that you wanted to review, Mr. Miller” 

“Oh. Thanks Pam” 

You could clearly hear the underlying nervousness in Joel’s voice and it was starting to make you laugh. 

You decided that since he was playing dirty you would do the same.

Your hand slowly moved up his pants, grazing his ankle, then his shin, up his thigh, until it reached his crotch.

Joel was desperately trying to hide his squirming as he examined the work of his new protégé. The one he was trying to replace you with.

It was delicious to feel him like that, helpless, harmless for once, totally at your mercy as you moved your hand up and down over his clothed cock that was desperately straining against the zipper. 

Pam didn't move, waiting for him to finish evaluating the project, only her regular breathing told you of her presence.

You liked the risk, the thrill of being discovered that ran under your skin. 

You could do more. 

Slowly, your fingers closed on the metal tag of Joel’s zipper. 

You pulled it down, while Joel tried to hide the noise with a cough. 

You pushed aside the flaps of his pants, pulling down his boxers to free his cock. He was hard in front of you. 

Thick, pink and darker at the tip, pulsing veins ran along the shaft that was slightly curved to the right.

Little drops of pre cum dripped onto his skin, making your mouth water. 

It was perfect and you had to have it. Right there and then.

You kitten-licked the underside where a white pearly bead was sliding, catching it with your tongue. 

Joel squirmed visibly on his chair, you couldn’t see it but you imagined his eyebrows shutting up and his lips twisting. 

You smiled in the heavy and heated air under the desk.

You hoped Pam would go away, but at the same time you were intrigued by putting Joel through the wringer without him being able to make any fumbling movements to stop you.

You held his cock in your hand, it throbbed in your palm, and a musky smell filled your nostrils. The smell of sex. 

You didn’t resist and licked again, more greedily, its flavor spread over your tongue. 

It was driving you crazy.

You felt his whole body stiffen as he sent his secretary away 

“That's all for now Pam, thank you. Tell the team to refine the graphics and report to Ms. Jones that the idea may work but the slogan is a bit weak, I want more ideas for next week ”

He had tried to maintain a professional tone, but his voice cracked mid-sentence, and you could only be mischievously proud of that.

As soon as Pam came out he yanked up his pants and wrapped a hand around your wrist dragging you out of your hiding place. 

“You dirty slut, what were you trying to do?" he rattled off. 

He had you standing up and trapped you against his chest, his half-dressed erection pressing hard against your ass.

His hand closed on your wrist hurt but you didn't care, you liked being manhandled like that.

You weren’t even intimidated anymore, just feral. 

Unhinged, eager, completely drunk on him.

“I thought you liked some action under the desk, Mr Miller” you replied, sneering without shame. 

“Oh you’re so thoughtful, aren’t you?” He barked, shoving you on the desk again.

“Yes I am.” You have never been so cheeky before, you were quite surprised and proud of yourself.

“No, you aren’t, darling”

With that, he pushed you onto the desk, your breasts pressed against the perfectly polished wood and his hands running to your skirt to hastily tug it down. 

It was like Deja vu.

The best type of.

He moved to lock the door.

“Hands on the desk, darling. And you better not take them out of there” 

He took off his tie, placed it on the desk and walked over.

His authoritative voice sent a rush of arousal straight to your pussy. 

He pulled down your panties, making you walk out of them and throwing them on the floor.

His hand grazed your folds, lightly at first and then he covered your whole sex and squeezed, sending a rush of adrenaline into your system 

“First time doing it? Getting fucked by your boss? Mh?”

“Yes” you breathed “I’ve never done anything like this before”

”You think you earned it?” 

“Yes”

He had withdrawn his hand from your pussy and placed both of them on your thighs.

“Bold of you. And I've already told you, you have to learn to speak properly. Yes, what?” His hands were gripping on your flesh so hard you were sure you'd end up with bruises.

“Yes, please” you whispered. “You think you deserve me giving attention to your pussy, huh?” 

His voice was low and raspy, almost like a subdued roar.

“Yes, please. Sir.” You added, emphasizing this last word.

“That's the way I like it, you're starting to learn. Turn around” You got up from the desk and he pushed you to sit on the edge, your bare pussy leaking on the surface. 

He slipped his hands down your thighs, over your bottom, up your back, stopping at the sides of your breasts. His thumbs rubbed your nipples through your shirt and lacy bra while he held you trapped between his body and the desk, standing between your open legs.

Your naked pussy throbbed against his pants, you could feel it dripping over the fabric, making a mess. He slipped his hand between the two of you, touching your folds with the pads of his fingers, up and down gathering more and more of your arousal and spreading it all over on your lips and clit. You tried hard to stifle your moans but a low husky one escaped your lips as you were rocking your hips against his hand.

“Look what I’m doing to your pussy.” He ordered while he started flicking your bundle of nerves. You looked down at his hand moving obscenely over your pussy, two of his thick fingers sliding inside you, his ring right out that was getting wet with you. You gasped loudly at the sensation when he curled them up just right, reaching for your special spot. “Be quiet” he had warned you off “either that or I’ll stop immediately” “No!” You wailed. “No, what?” He barked grasping your neck with his free hand 

You looked at yourself in his pitch black eyes, losing yourself in that deep darkness.

A taunting smile curved his lips. “No, please” you were quick to correct yourself “That’s right” his hand lightly squeezed your pulse point. “Undo my shirt, now” Your fingers were moving awkwardly over the buttons, trying to unfasten them while he continued to move his fingers inside you.

His skin, unveiled before your eyes, was almost too much to bear: golden and dotted with freckles that you wanted to lick one by one.

He smelled like whiskey and mint and a distinctive something that was only his, filling your nostrils, awakening every molecule of that secret part of you that was a slave for him.

Once you reached the last one you were so worked up you were almost on your brink, Joel noticed that right away and stopped, taking away his hand from your pussy. You whined in disappointment and he retorted 

“You don’t get to complain, darling” accompanying his words with a slap on your right tit “we clear?” “Yes, sir. I’m sorry” you breathed, feeling the pain spread all over your chest.

A rush of adrenaline made you quiver against his hot body.

He put his wet fingers in your mouth. “Clean them up, darling” And you did, you thoroughly swirled your tongue all over them, licking till the last drop, going feral for the taste of you and the way he pushed them through your lips, up to his knuckles.

“Good job”

He took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He shifted, moving you in front of him.

“Kneel. Show me how sorry you are for complaining” You kneeled right away, moving your hand over his pants, stroking the underline of his cock. “What do you want?” “Your cock” you purred “Ask nicely” he told you, totally unfazed by your attempt to bribe him

“Can I please pull your cock out, sir?” You would have looked up to anyone, but the power it exerted over you at that point was unmanageable and devoured you.

His onyx eyes were fixed on you, pinning you down to the ground, like he was holding your entire being in his fist. 

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Go ahead”

You hastily pulled down his pants and boxers, he stepped out of them and kicked them away.

You took his shaft back into your hand, licking the tip first, coating it in your saliva, until it was glistening and pulsing right before your eyes again.

You slid it in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, savoring his musky flavor, licking him like a lollipop, like the most delicious ice cream you’ve ever had.

“That’s what a good girl does,” he praised you “she fills her pretty mouth with a nice cock, just like that” You relaxed your jaw to take all that you could of him in your mouth.

His fingers reached for the back of your head, holding you possessively 

“Go on, miss, I know you want it, don’t you? You would like my cum on your tongue, huh?” You hummed against his shaft, even more eager for him.

You tried to brush your fingers on your clit, searching for some relief from the throbbing heated mess you felt between your thighs but he scolded you 

“Nuh huh, girl, don’t you dare. You don’t get to come until I say it” You whined, reluctantly moving your hand away.

You kept sucking on his cock, devouring every inch of him with purpose, messy and sloppy, thin trades of your saliva running onto his length to his balls. 

You swirled on the tip before sliding down to them and taking one in your mouth, greedily sucking on it. 

He was granite that crumbled slightly at your every touch, trying to hold back the grunts that vibrated in his throat, trying not to close his eyes so as not to get lost in every lap of your tongue. He tried not to give you any satisfaction but at the same time his body betrayed him, letting slip how much he wanted all of that. And you. 

At his brink, he stopped you, manhandling you back on the desk, tearing away your shirt making every single button pop out and yanking at your bra to expose your nipples. 

His lips closed on one of your hard rock buds and sucked it avidly. You were a whimpering mess, whining under your breath “please sir, fuck me” 

He grazed your nipple with his teeth, running a finger through your folds. 

“Look at you, darling, so hungry for my cock your pussy is weeping,  your body is shaking…” 

With one hand he yanked the papers off the desk, a shower of paper clips followed the sheets to the floor along with a stapler and the golden tag with his name engraved on it.

“Lie down” he hissed 

You lay on the desk, obscenely open and throbbing for him, a raw uncontrollable heat flowing through your body. 

“Please” you cried. 

He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders, holding you tightly by your ankles.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this” he said tapping his cock on your folds and sliding it through them, before starting to enter you agonizingly slow. 

“Mmm feel how good she’s stretching, darling, your tight little pussy’s all full of me” 

“Yes, sir” 

“Say: thank you, sir” 

“Thank you, sir” 

It was all inside you and your pussy was swallowing it hungrily.

He started thrusting into a steady rhythm, slowly at first, like tidal waves hitting you, ripples on a blank shore caressing your special spot, and then stronger, faster, like thunderstorm on the ocean, high dangerous waves making you see stars. 

His huge cock shifting and brushing against your drenched walls, sinking into you again and again. 

Your moans bounced around the room like an echo, mixing with squelching sounds of his dick slamming into you, making you his. 

“Yes, baby, you’re doing so good for me” he whispered “come here”. 

He grabbed you and held you close to his chest, making your legs parting some more, reaching for another angle that made you feel him even deeper. 

His moustache brushed along your jawline, lowering on your neck, his lips sucking on your pulse point.

“Look at you, dripping on my desk,” he muttered softly, his voice reverberating on your skin. 

The impossible pace became too much to bear when his hand moved from your hips to your clit, his thumb brushing on it. 

He looked you in the eyes, feral and assertively “you want to come, huh? Make a mess all over my cock?” 

“Yes.” You cried, seeing the wreck that you were reflecting in his deep brown eyes “yes, please sir I need it” 

“Then come, baby” he said, increasing the pressure on your clit and pushing into you like it was a matter of life or death. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

You broke the dams that still kept you anchored to reality and flooded his cock, squirting all over his desk, a complete and utter disaster disheveled and exhausted. 

The fine wood of his desk was probably ruined forever but he didn't seem to care in the slightest, he pumped into you, grabbing your neck and hair until he spurted all of him into your cunt. 

You felt it warm and sticky, painting your walls, making you full like you’ve never been before. 

He slipped out a moment later, caressing your cheeks and praising you.

You got up from his desk and clung to his neck, pulling him into a long, deep kiss, tilting your head as you felt his tongue play with yours.

“Thank you” you murmured against his lips, smiling softly “And by the way, I’m on the pill”

“I know. I saw you take it the other day in the conference room before the meeting started” he said, while adjusting his trousers and taking a clean shirt from a desk drawer.

“Get out of here, naughty girl” 

“Well, you destroyed my blouse…” you said, picking up the garment from the floor.

“Here, take mine” 

You put on his shirt, too big for you, trying to tuck it under your skirt so it was less noticeable how long it was. He helped you by rolling up your sleeves, barely touching your skin, but enough to make you feel a shiver down your spine. 

“mmm sexy,” he said when he stopped to look at you.

“Let’s try not to make this a habit” he smirked, giving you another playful slap on your ass cheek “We can't do this 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”

“Why not?” You winked right before going out the door. 

You could smell him on you and it drove you crazy. You already knew that you would use his shirt to sleep that very night and for many nights to come.

Once outside the door, Pam looked at you over her glasses, raised an eyebrow, and for the first time you saw a little smile curve her lips.

tag list for this one: @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @thundermartini @probablyreadinsmut @almostempty @gothcsz @harriedandharassed

archive tag: @pedrostories Let me know if you want to be added or removed, I'll do it right away.

[jack-of-heartstrings]

OH HOLY SHIT, ANARKA FANART??? This literally made my morning. I absolutely adore her and I never see this level of appreciation. She looks amazing!!!

I'm not sure about the past stuff, given Crocoduel goes out of its way to make it clear there was some huge miscommunication. It's very likely neither of their stories is quite the truth. But he says their record saved him after she left him, and she says it tore them apart, so it SOUNDS LIKE something might have happened where either they were "taking a break" or he wildly misunderstood her being upset with him as leaving him or something, and she didn't think it was over but he did, and then he went and got famous on his own, and she took it as going behind her back/abandoning her. Or something?

It would... honestly be kind of grimly funny if her pregnancy was directly a factor, too. She has anger issues even now. I could fully imagine her getting worse because early hormones and neither of them realized yet that was why. Either way, given Jagged knew Luka's name and how Anarka adamantly refused to talk about him, I kind of assume it was her choice to be full no-contact. A stubborn "I don't want your money. You made it clear you didn't want to be part of this family and I don't want you around in any capacity." Dumbass goes on to write My Guitar Is My Only Family to vent his feelings about that with no idea his kids will grow up loving the song. 😔

EITHER WAY...

God I love her. Like... One of the writers described her as "the mom everyone wants unless she's yours." She's fascinating to me.

She clearly does still have anger issues, but "your sister and I are the only ones I've never wanted to throw overboard." I still have to imagine that's a big part of why Juleka's so timid and Luka's so emotionally mature. That even if it wasn't aimed at them, Juleka still grew up watching her go off on other people and never wanted to risk adding to her stress. That Luka is like this partly due to learning to watch for times Juleka was holding her tongue, and partly because he himself was more stubborn and abrasive for a while. That Anarka always did her best to keep herself more in check when dealing with the kids but she and Luka still used to get into arguments about things like her refusing to disclose any information about their dad, leading to him often running off to the bridge to calm down, like he's mentioned to Marinette. And that learning to accept and process all that has led to his "it's not worth it" and walking away faster from arguments now.

I still imagine she's always done her best and succeeded for the most part. She supports the kids in everything they want to do. I've been a little feral over the cameo in Sublimation showing her teaching music and fully want to believe that's been her job for a long time, in other schools, because yeah that makes sense. Turning her passion into a more mundane job that helps other people... And that makes Luka's dream of not being a musician but giving other people the gift of music in another way that much better. 🥹

Also?

Her name is Anarka Couffaine. LIKE... It can be loosely translated as "Anarchy of the coffin" (/"from the grave"?) AND it's a pun on acouphène / "tinnitus". I am 1,000% convinced this woman as a musician gave herself the edgiest stage name imaginable, legally changed it, and then just casually passed that name onto her kids. Her name was probably like, Nancy or something. (Anything "less cool" could work but that one could explain Jagged calling her Nanarky.) She just straight up went "I make my own rules" and then she did forever.

Also the Liberty is just insanely cool on its own. Delighted that it immediately became the designated Hangout Spot from its introduction onward as it should. Anarka just letting twenty kids casually come and go at all hours like. God I love her.

Young Anarka

I dunno… Like

Her past intrigued me the most out of all the adult characters, and I can't understand her mix with Jagged. Like, he cheated on her and she got pregnant? They had an open relationship? Or did they only share intimacy? Why did she never tell her kids about their father? And why didn't their father pay child support lmao…

[woso-story]

Always By Your Side

Alexia Putellas x Reader

You had always known that this day would come. Your dog Charlie was getting older—his fur a little whiter than before, his movements a little slower. But nothing could have prepared you for the moment when his body gave up before your heart was ready to let him go.

It started as just another night, curled up on the couch, watching Alexia play. The way she moved on the pitch always amazed you—graceful yet powerful, completely in control. Even through the screen, you could see the fire in her eyes, her determination as she fought for every ball. You cheered for her, smiling at how effortless she made everything look.

Charlie lay beside you, warm and comfortable, his tiny frame tucked under your arm as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his soft fur. He had always been there—through every stage of your life, through every heartbreak and triumph. Fifteen years of unconditional love, of being your shadow, your best friend.

But then, out of nowhere, something changed.

A strange noise, almost a whimper. You looked down, heart immediately pounding as you realized something was wrong. His breathing was uneven, his little body trembling slightly.

“Charlie?” Your voice shook as you sat up. His eyes met yours, but they were clouded with something you couldn’t quite place—pain, maybe, or fear.

Panic set in. The game on the TV no longer mattered. You scooped him up, careful but urgent, grabbing your keys and rushing out the door. The drive to the emergency vet felt endless, your hands shaking on the wheel as you whispered reassurances to him, even though you weren’t sure he could hear you.

---

By the time you arrived, your stomach was twisted in knots. The waiting room was sterile, too bright, too cold. The vet took Charlie from your arms gently, but you already knew. The moment she looked at him, you saw it in her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “His body is shutting down. There’s nothing we can do.”

The world seemed to tilt.

She explained it all—how his little heart was failing, how the best they could do was give him medicine to ease the pain for another week, maybe less. But prolonging it wouldn’t change the outcome.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want him to suffer.”

Tears blurred your vision as you held Charlie one last time, whispering every single thing you needed him to know. How much you loved him, how much he had saved you in ways he would never understand. How grateful you were for every moment, every wag of his tail, every night he curled up beside you when you felt like the world was too much.

And then, he was gone.

A sob tore through your chest, and you didn’t try to hold it in. The vet placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, offering words of comfort that barely registered. Your body shook, your heart breaking into pieces as you clung to the empty space where Charlie had been.

Through the blur of pain, you managed to grab your phone and send a message to Alexia.

"I'm at the vet. Charlie is gone."

It was all you could get out before your hands failed you, before grief swallowed you whole.

---

Miles away in Madrid, Alexia had just stepped off the pitch when her phone buzzed. She grabbed a water bottle from the bench, glancing down at the screen, expecting a text about the game.

The moment she read your message, her stomach dropped.

She tried calling immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. Her heartbeat was in her throat as she tried again. Nothing.

She didn’t hesitate.

Within minutes, she had booked the next flight back to Barcelona, ignoring the confused looks from her teammates. She barely registered the hurried drive to the airport, the late-night flight, the exhaustion pulling at her muscles after ninety minutes on the pitch. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to you.

By the time she arrived at your apartment, it was past 3 AM. The city was quiet, the streets nearly empty. Using the spare key you had given her, she let herself in.

The apartment felt… hollow.

She walked through the darkened space, noticing Charlie’s empty bed by the couch, the leash still hanging by the door. It hit her all at once—what this must have done to you. She knew how much Charlie meant to you. She had seen the way your face lit up every time he trotted over to you, how he had been your constant through so many years.

The bedroom door was slightly open. She stepped inside quietly, her chest tightening at the sight of you curled up in bed, clutching one of Charlie’s toys to your chest. Your face was streaked with dried tears, your body curled in on itself like you were trying to hold yourself together.

Alexia swallowed against the lump in her throat.

She placed a glass of water on your nightstand before slipping into bed behind you. She didn’t say anything—just wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of her body startled you awake, and for a moment, you were disoriented. Then you saw her.

Fresh tears welled up in your eyes as you turned and buried your face in her chest. Your body trembled with silent sobs, and she held you tighter, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m right here. Let it out, mi amor.”

And you did.

You cried until your body gave out, until the weight of grief became too much and sleep pulled you under once more.

---

The next morning, you woke up still wrapped in Alexia’s arms. The first thing you noticed was how sore your body felt—like you had been carrying something far too heavy for far too long.

She stirred beside you, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “Drink some water,” she murmured, handing you the glass.

You took a few sips before setting it down, resting your head against her chest again. Neither of you spoke for a while, the silence filled only by the soft rise and fall of her breathing.

Finally, you whispered, “I don’t know how to do this without him.”

Alexia tightened her hold on you. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “How did you get here so fast?”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I took the next flight after your text. Nothing was more important than being here with you.”

Your heart ached, but this time, it wasn’t just from grief. It was from love.

You looked up at her, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

She cupped your cheek gently, her thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Always.”

You knew the pain wouldn’t disappear overnight. Losing Charlie left a hole in your heart that nothing could truly fill. But as Alexia held you, grounding you, reminding you that you weren’t alone, you realized something.

You would get through this.

Because with Alexia by your side, you could get through anything.

[onlymingyus]

Fatal Trouble

pairing; lee jihoon x f!reader 

genre; fantasy, heavy angst, mild horror, slow burn, smut (minor dni), toxic, fluff 

summary; where others would steal, bargain, or kill to live the life that jihoon had, he knew the truth. a charmed life was often a cursed one. 

content warnings; prince!jihoon, princess!reader, both the reader and jihoon’s parents are mentioned/in the fic, duke!mingyu, mild love triangle, jealousy, based on the beauty and the beast, beast!jihoon, some ideas have been borrowed from damsel, royalty au, time period not stated but not modern, curses, pregnancy/miscarriage scares, blood, mauling, murder/death, loss of parent(s), arranged marriage, crying, arguing, mental struggles, vivid descriptions of wounds/shifting, poor use of french, especially old french (i apologize). I am sure there are more—this is a very heavy fic. if there is anything glaring I missed, message me. (patreon will have additional warnings)

smut warnings; multiple smut scenes, virgin!reader, mild Dom/sub themes, dubcon leaning noncon briefly, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), handjob, pet names, crying (pleasure and not) — as always I’m sure I’m missing something, send me a message if it’s glaring. (patreon will have additional warnings)

w/c; 47k and some change (50k~ with patreon bonus)

once upon a time collab masterlist 

fatal trouble - enhypen 

a/n; thank you to @nothoughtsjustfic for putting together this collab. this has been a lot of fun and incredibly challenging all at the same time. also a huge thank you to @junkissed for proofreading this beast (pun intended). I know you are incredibly busy and you still managed to carve out a little time for me, I appreciate it more than you know. 

French word bank: Monseigneur - title for prince, Madame - title female royalty (queen/princess), Madame La Reine - title for queen, Monsieur - title male royalty (duke), Maman - mother, Mon fils - son, Mon amor- my love, Mon ange - my angel

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

1

He knew they were trying to keep the truth from him. Jihoon wasn’t sure why at this point. His mother liked to pretend that if you didn’t speak about something, you could pretend it didn’t happen. Jihoon knew all too well that not saying something didn’t make nightmares disappear. 

The bile was rising in his throat as he watched the men shift the girl’s bloody arm under the white sheet. She had been exceptionally pretty and incredibly naive. She had truly believed this was her dream come true. She was going to become the Queen of Aetherial Grove. She was changing the lives of her tiny little no-name kingdom... At least half of that was true. 

“Monseigneur…” 

Jihoon hadn’t realized he had stopped walking or that he was staring. Even as Wonwoo spoke to him, the prince kept his eyes down on the ground. Jihoon was beginning to look ill. Over the past few months, the stress of everything around him had only made his usual ordeal all that much worse. Wonwoo knew and saw everything in the palace, but watching Jihoon now he could see his sunken cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes that were only highlighting how pale he had become. 

“Monseigneur? Prince Jihoon?” 

The droplets of blood were like a trail of guilt for Jihoon as he watched the girl’s body being taken from the courtyard. He could hear Wonwoo’s voice, but the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of his own heart beating rapidly were drowning it out until the moment that the Steward placed his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder. “What? What do—stop coddling me.” 

Lifting his shoulders to shrug the man’s hand from him, Jihoon swallows the bile from his throat and leans his head back towards the sky. It was a cloudy day in the Aetherial Grove. If Jihoon had to be out of the palace, these were the days he preferred. The sunshine hurt his sensitive eyes and reminded him that most nights he hadn’t slept as much as he or anyone else would have hoped he had. 

“My apologies, monseigneur. You just looked lost in your thoughts, I—” Wonwoo knew that he wasn’t fooling anyone, but especially not Jihoon. He could see the disdainful look on his face as he finally met his eyes. “I just wanted to bring you back to the present. Nothing here was worth your concern and your mother wanted to meet with you in the queen’s salon.” 

There was nothing else in the world that Jihoon would rather do less than speak with his mother after what had just occurred, and yet he knew—as always—he didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Ah, I see. Well, I won’t keep the queen waiting then. I’m present and accounted for, Wonwoo; you’ve done your job well, as always.” With a roll of his eyes, Jihoon sighs out the last of his words, turning on his heel and turning back up the steps towards the large front doors of the palace he had the unfortunate privilege to call home. Where others would steal, bargain, or kill to live the life that Jihoon had, he knew the truth. A charmed life was often a cursed one. 

“It’s entirely unfortunate. If they ask for a cause, we say what we always do—” 

“That she died of disease?” 

Jihoon’s mother was a beautiful woman. In her youth, the queen had been regarded as one of the most stunning women in any surrounding kingdom to Aetherial Grove, and that was what brought her here and to her husband. While age hadn’t taken her beauty, stress had begun to show around her eyes and lips as, with each backhand comment from Jihoon, she found a new line forming from frustration. 

“Yes, mon fils, because that is precisely what happened to that poor girl.”  

Of course it was. That was what had happened to every single ill-fated princess who had made her way into Jihoon’s life. Scoffing under his breath, Jihoon moves to the large windows, feeling his mother’s eyes linger on him for a moment longer. She was frustrated; her annoyance was palpable in the air. 

“We persevere and try aga—”

“You can’t be serious, maman. When is enough, enough?” Jihoon didn’t allow his mother time to answer his question as she shifted on her chair. He knew the right answer and the answer he would receive. “I’m done with this.” 

The air in the room had gone stagnant as the tension rose between them. There was only so much that she could handle before she would snap, and Jihoon was walking that line. “Well, darling, that isn’t a choice you simply get to make, is it?” In the queen’s mind, Jihoon might be struggling with the adjustments he was having to make, but his life—this life that they all lived—was worth all of it. It was worth a few mishaps. “This isn’t about you, Jihoon. Your father is struggling; don’t you care? It’s your job—no, it’s your duty to step up and accept your position, and you are acting like an insolent child because, why? A few girls we barely knew didn’t fit in.” There were more important things to be concerned about in his mother’s mind than things that were now part of the past. 

“Wonwoo, dear? Make sure that the room is in perfect condition for our beautiful new princess, won’t you?” 

The bile was back in Jihoon’s throat. He could hear the faint roaring of what could be mistaken as his blood in his ears once again, but he knew that wasn’t what it was. No, that rumble was too familiar and terrified him. He was angry, and he wasn’t the only one that was taking notice. Inside of Jihoon was his family's greatest tragedy and well-kept secret. While he had been told his entire life that it had never been his fault, every time that he woke up with blood on his hands and face, he would need to be convinced again. 

The great kingdom of Aetherial Grove was full of wealth and prosperity, not just for the royal family but their subjects. While those around them seemed to fall into debt and ruin over the years, Aetherial Grove seemed to have never faltered. That was far from the truth. Those who truly knew the history of the kingdom would know that Aetherial Grove grew from nothing and not without immense challenges. That was all until Jihoon’s family took the throne and suddenly the challenges were gone, seemingly bringing the kingdom into the sun and good fortune. 

What had really happened not only changed the lives of everyone in Aetherial Grove, but Jihoon’s life in particular. Jihoon’s father had been a young king with a barren wife. His kingdom had been on the brink of complete collapse when a beautiful man with a charming smile offered him a solution. He would grant the King everything he ever wanted if the King promised him a favor. It seemed simple, and it had been until Jihoon’s father let the wealth and power go to his head, and then the man had come back requesting his favor. 

“Such a pretty wife, Sire... and she’s with child? So far along. My blessings to you both.” 

The words had seemed like a threat more than anything. Where the man seemed to be offering his well wishes, the glint in his eye told Jihoon’s father there was something amiss. “She is, and we thank you.” 

“As you should. It was by my will that it came to be, and what was given can be taken away.” The beautiful man’s smile that had seemed charming at first now seemed so sinister. “I’ve come to collect my favor, Sire.” 

“I’m certain that you have, but I fear I have noth—” 

“You have more than enough. Look around you; all that I have helped you to attain. Yet you lie to me and say you have nothing? Are you attempting to renege on our agreement, Sire?” The man appeared more snakelike than human as his eyes moved along the pretty queen’s face and down to the swell of her stomach. “I wouldn’t suggest it. Allow me to stay in the palace until I wish to part. Be that in days, months, years, or until I die.”  

While the king knew in his heart that the man was right and that all that was around him was due in thanks to the deal he had made with the man, his pride couldn't allow him to admit it. How would he explain to his servants or subjects who this man was that he was allowing to walk around freely in his palace? What could this lithe man do to him? The king was a man of immense power and fortitude. So instead of folding and showing any respect to him, the king scoffed and held his queen closer. “I owe you nothing. You’ll leave us at once.”

“Is that so? Do you know what happens when you don’t keep your promises? What happens when you let your ego think for you?” While the man knew what the answer from the king would be, he took a step forward only to feel the guard’s weapon at his chest to keep him back. He knew that something that weak and simple wouldn’t stop him if he truly wanted to harm any of them, but for the sake of peace in the moment, he took no further steps and chose to speak instead. “You’d rather sacrifice something other than your pride? That’s fine. Act like a beast and receive one.” 

Before the king could even open his mouth to question what the man’s words meant, at his side the queen gasped in pain, feeling a cramp in her stomach. There had been no complications with her pregnancy, and the child had been a miracle—perhaps too much of one. "Darling, what’s wrong?” 

Taking a step back, the man smirks to himself as he watches the king move to his knee at the woman’s side as she sobs and shakes her head in confusion. “She will survive. Everyone will, for now. We will see if he harbors your pride, Sire. I have my doubts. I’ll take my leave.” 

The king wanted to question the man, have him detained, and get to the bottom of his words, but one more fearful scream from his wife had him terrified. Jihoon had been born a month early and thought to be stillborn for a full ten minutes until, by another miracle, he let out a frantic scream as if brought back from the dead. 

His mother’s voice had become ringing in his ears as Jihoon rested his head against his hand, attempting to force the roaring in his ears to stop. It wasn’t until she was on her feet and talking about moving out the previous girl’s things that Jihoon groaned under his breath, loudly bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “Isabelle. She has—had a name. They all have names, maman.” 

“Obviously, Jihoon. I’m aware she had—” 

“Isabelle, Lia, Haeun, Elise, Baili, Krista, Ara, Gret—” 

“Stop it!” 

While it was rare for Jihoon’s mother to raise her voice—to truly yell—today she had. She was tired of hearing the names. She didn’t need to hear their names again. Their names didn’t matter to her. “It’s all unfortunate, Jihoon; I’m aware! Mon fils…” Carefully lifting her hands, she cups Jihoon’s face and meets his eyes, seeing the pain behind them. That was why she pushed as hard as she did. He was always alone; not even her company would ever be enough, and eventually, like his father was now, she would die. How could she leave her son alone? How could she leave him alone with his secret? With their secret? “It’s not your fault.” 

The words he hated more than any others. That was the prettiest lie and the most frequent lie that his mother told him. She had told him that same one time and time again over the span of his life. Resting his hand on her arm, Jihoon closes his eyes and furrows his brows tightly to attempt to hide his frustration as he spoke through gritted teeth. “It is, so please, maman... Don’t make me try this again. I don’t need a wife.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jihoon’s tears trail over her fingers, and his mother’s heart breaks once again. She had lost count on how many times she had felt that feeling since the man who had cursed them had come into their house. While Jihoon’s curse was much worse, this was hers. She had to watch her son live in pain. “Your father is dying, Jihoon, and you need a queen.” 

2

You knew that one day someone would arrange for your hand and you would have to leave your family and your kingdom. However, the day that it happened, you weren’t sure you could have ever been prepared for it. A man had shown up at your family’s small palace in Thornwood, and you had never seen someone who looked more out of place. He had handed your father a letter, and you had watched pride and happiness wash over your father’s face before his eyes landed on you. That was the moment your life changed forever. 

Deep down, you knew that this arrangement was a good thing. Even in just the couple of weeks since your father had received the letter, things had changed dramatically, not just for your family but for your kingdom as a whole. Thornwood had been struggling. In your memory, you couldn’t remember a time when the kingdom hadn’t been in a time of suffering, but things had only gotten worse over the past few years. 

Waters once rich with fish were now seemingly empty and the crop fields were barren. There wasn’t enough money in the entire kingdom to make any changes that were deemed necessary, much less keep everyone fed, so that was why when the letter came, it had been to everyone else, a miracle. To you, it was your worst nightmare. You had to leave the kingdom you loved more than yourself and marry someone you didn’t know and that you didn’t love. The only thing that made the weight of the price worth it; it was the dowry already being spent towards the benefit of your kingdom. 

“That is what duty is, my love. Sacrifice is difficult, but the reward is great.” 

Your father’s words looped in your ear as you now stood in front of great golden gates in the Aetherial Grove. You had heard so much and yet so little about this kingdom and its prince. He was a mystery and their were horror stories to match the amount of fairytales that came from the forest that acted as a gate around the kingdom. While you didn’t heed much credit to gossip or tales, you couldn’t help but think of them now as the servants unloaded your luggage and the gates began to open on your future. 

“I’ve heard the prince is a cruel but handsome man.” 

“No way! He’s a prince; he has to be charming and kind.” 

“But dear, Y/N... stay out of the woods. Did you hear about the beast of Aetherial Grove? So many women have gone missing. Or at least that’s the story.” 

“Don’t listen to silly stories! Your prince will keep you safe. I mean, your king! Oh my goodness, Y/N, you’re going to be a queen!” 

Those had been the last things you had heard from your cousins, as they had helped you pack your things. You had never cared enough about wanting to be a queen of anywhere, not even of Thornwood and now you were being thrust into a completely new world and expected to rule. You could feel your breakfast churning in your stomach as the handsome butler ushered you forward and spoke, though you barely listened to what he said, your mind a whirl of anxiety. 

“Madame Y/N, we are so honored to have you here.” 

The man named Soonyoung kept speaking, explaining other servant’s names, but none of them stuck with you because you were unable to focus on anything the moment you stepped foot inside the palace. The room was massive; it felt like an echo chamber. Every spoken word reverberated back into your ears like a bomb that made you feel unsteady on your feet and no one seemed to notice at first until a kind hand rested on your forearm. 

“Madame… are you alright?” 

The color in your skin had gone wrong. Jieun could see the chillbumps rising on your arms as you swayed ever so slightly along with Soonyoung’s words. It wasn’t like her to act out of turn, but she was happy she had put her hand on you when she did and saw the discomfort in your eyes. 

“No. I feel like I’m going to be sick.” 

Those words got everyone in motion. You hadn’t wanted so much attention and yet at the mention of being ill, you found yourself on a sofa with your feet up and a wet cloth on your forehead as the pretty girl who had first spoken to you watched over you closely. 

“Perhaps we could let Madame rest? I can stay with her and we can finish the tour when she is feeling like herself again.” 

Soonyoung wanted to argue with Jieun and tell her that there wasn’t time for all of the drama, but one more look at you and the pitiful look on your face had him agreeing. “I will let the monseigneur know what’s happening. Find me as soon as she’s feeling better.” 

The silence that followed the moment that Soonyoung closed the door behind him left you with a sigh of relief and put a smile on Jieun’s face. “I’m sure that is a welcomed change, Madame. I apologize for overwhelming you. I’m sure between your travels and—” 

“I’m alright, I promise. Could—would it be wrong of me to ask you to just call me Y/N? Your name is Jieun, right?” 

The apprehension was clear on Jieun’s face, but there was something about you that made her agree. She knew that if the queen heard her call you anything other than a proper title, she would be reprimanded, but it was nice to be treated differently—similar to an equal—for once. 

“Yes, Mada—Y/N. That’s my name. I—I’m actually the monseigneur’s cousin.” A shy smile pulls at her lips and Jieun shifts closer to you to adjust the cloth on your forehead. “We will be family soon." You can’t help but notice how her brows furrow even slightly and how she swallows hard, using her thumb to keep the cloth from your eyes. “Hopefully. I—as long as you and the monseigneur find no disagreements with the arrangement, I mean.” 

It was such a peculiar choice of words for Jieun to use in your opinion, but instead of questioning her, you choose to offer her a smile and nod. “Oh, that’s lovely. I’m certain that as long as I meet his standards, we can move along with the marriage. They’ve already paid—” Pressing your lips together, realizing how crass you sound in your words, you wrinkle your nose and try again. “A generous dowry was offered and accepted. My kingdom is very appreciative of this arrangement. It’s a duty I’m happy to uphold.” 

Jieun knew how this worked. She had done this so many times, with so many other women and yet as she sat with you like this now, it was the first time it made her heart ache. You were too good for this. She feared for you. “I’m certain you are... I—however, I know this isn’t my place, mada—Y/N, but may I offer some advice as a resident of Aetherial Grove?” Giving a quick glance to the door before avoiding your eyes directly, Jieun speaks through a strained smile. “Keep your head down and please stay out of the forest. Don’t go out at night.” 

The warning seems genuine, perhaps a sweet word for someone who might be afraid of the dark until you laugh under your breath and Jieun’s gaze finally meets yours. You can see just how serious she is, how her nose flairs and how she looks from the door once again and back to you whispering please before adding once again, “Don’t go out at night, Y/N.” 

Jieun’s words, much like your father’s, were echoing in your mind as you finally were being led through the palace with the girl by your side. She had seemed so sincere, and yet the moment that Soonyoung had returned to check on you, a facade had gone back up. You were no longer Y/N; you were once again Madame and now you were being led to what would become your rooms. 

“Until the wedding and after the coronation, of course. I’m sure you understand. The rooms are a bit smaller than the queen’s, but I hope they will suit you.” 

You weren’t sure what Soonyoung thought you were used to as you looked around the spacious rooms. If you chose to, you wouldn’t have to see anyone else in the palace. You had an entire wing to yourself and servants that would answer directly to you, including Jieun. Of course, you knew that your choice wasn’t your own and there would be no staying in your rooms and being alone. 

“This is wonderful—more than I could possibly ever n—”

“Soonyoung!” 

The raised voice made your heart begin to race instantly. While there had been a lot of voices and too much commotion around your arrival, no one had raised their voice once since you had arrived—that was until this man. You watch as Soonyoung swallows hard and rubs his lips together as if to steady himself before he turns towards the open doors to your salon and towards a handsome man dressed only like who you could assume to be royalty. This couldn’t be—

“Monseigneur…” 

Too soon. You had arrived far too quickly for Jihoon’s liking. They had barely gotten Isabelle’s things out of this room before they were moving yours in. Jihoon’s head was busting, his stomach was in knots, and you looked like a fragile doll ready to be broken with eyes wide with fear. 

“Keep her away from me; is that understood?” 

While Jihoon was speaking much quieter now, you could still make out his words as Soonyoung shuffled closer to him. You could so clearly see that there was a disdain for you written on the prince’s face and yet he hadn’t said a word to you. This was the first time he had seen you. Did he even know your name? 

Stepping forward, you hear Jieun mutter madame under her breath as you clear your throat and offer Jihoon a soft smile. “No, it’s okay, Jieun. Monseigneur?” Ignored. Jihoon barely shifts his eyes towards you, tilting his head almost like a wounded animal when you take another step in his direction. “Prince Jihoon… I’m—” 

“Y/N Y/L/N, of the Kingdom of Thornwood. Yes, I’m aware of your name. I’m busy, as you can see, madame.” He knew he was being cruel from the getgo, but that look of shock in your eyes was better than seeing you dead on the forest ground. “Soonyoung, with me. I have things to do. Good day, Madame.” 

3

It had been two months since you had arrived in Thornwood. While others seemed overjoyed by this fact, you were growing more miserable every single day. There had been times when Jihoon had been forced to be in the same room with you or to be at events with you, but otherwise he had spoken no more than a dozen words since your arrival. 

Today was no different. Today was the official public announcement of your engagement to the prince. Apparently no flaws had been found in you—he had deemed you good enough and you would get to suffer by his side until you died. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” 

At least you had Jieun and moments of privacy where you had a bit of normalcy. Smiling at the girl in the mirror. You lift the bracelet from the vanity in front of you as Jieun adds finishing touches to your makeup. “I don’t feel beautiful, but thank you.” 

Jieun could see the changes that had been slowly occurring in you since your arrival. Your smile was different. Your light was different. You were becoming resigned to a life of loneliness and while it wasn’t fair... perhaps that was the sacrifice you and Jihoon would both have to make in order to make this marriage work. This was the farthest that any of the women had ever made it. Some had gotten scared off in hours, some injured in the matter of days, and others killed after a week. You were sad but alive after two months. That was a triumph to be celebrated. 

“Then I will work harder. Make sure you look even more gorgeous in your dress for the party. Your bracelet is a very good choice.” 

You admired Jieun’s resilience. She was easily your closet friend in the kingdom and to say that you valued her presence would be an understatement. Smiling at the piece of jewelry now around your wrist, you run your fingertips over the closed clasp and think back to the moment that it was given to you just days before you had left Thornwood. “Mm, it is beautiful. It was a gift from a dear friend. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him.” There was something beautiful and gut wrenching about the twisted golden thorns circling your wrist. The design was so delicate and yet in it’s simplicity, you felt a pang of home sickness. 

“Oh? I—it wasn’t my place.” 

Lowering your arm into your lap, you smile at Jieun in the mirror as you shake your head. You knew it was a bold choice to wear the bracelet. It wasn’t a gift from your betrothed, and yet you hadn’t received a gift from Jihoon. You had little fear that he would even notice a bracelet on your wrist anymore than he would notice you in the room for longer than he had to. “It’s fine, Jieun. No harm done. I’ll have something to far outshine it soon enough, won’t I?” 

Your words seem to ease Jieun’s mind, but they only cause yourself to spiral. You can already feel the weight of the ring on your finger and wonder if that weight will be worth the price. 

In his own room, Jihoon was thinking much the same. He had already felt the weight of the box in his jacket pocket and it felt as if it weighed an impossible amount. It wasn’t his life that he felt that he was ruining, but yours. 

He had gone out of his way to avoid you over the past two months. It had been equally as difficult as it had been easy. His mother was furious with him and his behavior, and yet you were still breathing and now you were going to be officially named as his future queen. All that he had done had been for the sake of his kingdom and, in his own twisted way, for you. 

It wasn’t that Jihoon didn’t have a desire to know you. You were stunning. He had found many of the other women who had been brought to the palace beautiful, but the first day you had been brought in, he knew that he was in trouble. You were a breath of fresh air with how you lit up the room until he spoke you with such unkind words and he watched your smile fade. It was a hefty price to pay to keep you at a distance, but a distance was safe. At a distance, he could observe and yearn. There was no true danger in that as long as you followed the rules. 

You were as intelligent as you were beautiful. Jihoon knew about all of the books you were requesting in the palace library. If they happened to not be found, he made sure they were the next time you had them in your mind. He knew that you loved fresh air, and as terrified as that made him, as long as it was during the daylight hours, he would permit it. So one day you woke to learn that there were horses at your disposal in the palace stable. 

And yet, with all the things that Jihoon tried to provide for you, he watched your spirit diminish daily. You made friends with the staff easily, despite knowing that the queen wouldn’t like it. In that way, you were much like him and that made it even easier for him to learn about how truly depressed you were. 

Standing in front of the floor-length mirror, Jihoon stretches his arm out, allowing Soonyoung to adjust his sleeves as he listens to Junhui, the palace chef, explain the menu for the night’s event. 

“Duck confit served with roasted potatoes, cauliflower gratin—” 

“Tell me again what she said, Junhui.” 

This was the third time that Junhui had attempted to make his way through the entirety of the menu for the prince to interrupt him and want to talk about you. While he enjoyed having you in the palace and your frequent visits to his kitchen, at the moment he wished he had never divulged that information to Jihoon. Sighing into his words, Junhui lowers his head before lifting it once again to meet Jihoon’s eyes in the mirror. “Why are you obsessing over it?” 

“You know why.” Shaking out his hand, Jihoon scowls at Soonyoung and Junhui each as he turns from the mirror, deeming himself dressed. “I’m—this is happening tonight and then in less than a month she’ll be my wife. She hates me—” 

“Because you want her to, Jihoon.” It was Soonyoung who spoke up this time. He knew that if this were anyone else in the palace, they would be reprimanded for how they spoke to Jihoon, but he had been chosen to be his butler for a reason. He was the same age as the prince. They had grown up in the palace together, as close as brothers could be without sharing blood. He knew every detail of Jihoon’s secrets and regrets. “You purposely hurt her to keep her awa—” 

“And she’s alive! For fuck’s sake, Soonyoung. What would you have me do? Waltz into her salon and profess my affection? Tell her about what I am." Scoffing into his words, Jihoon tugs roughly on the lapels of his expensive jacket, feeling the threads shift at his strength. “My darling, Y/N... I regret to inform you of my terrible curse. I’ll never be able to show you true affection, dear, out of fear that I might remove your windpipe with my teeth.” 

With Jihoon’s words, you could have heard a pin drop at how silent the room had gone. He knew what Soonyoung and Junhui wanted to say to him—the same thing everyone always did; this wasn’t his fault. Jihoon knew all too well that it was his fault. He couldn’t control the beast and that was his fault. 

“Let’s get this over with.”

4

Your life was now one massive echo chamber. As you stood in the middle of the ballroom with people moving around you, it was as if nothing that was being said made it to your ears. Instead of intelligible words, you found muffled and warbling phrases muddling together as you nodded along. The only thing keeping you grounded to the marble under your heels was the champagne flute in your fingers that kept being refilled. 

“Such a handsome couple. Truly, we are blessed. Think of the children she will bless the kingdom with.” 

Jihoon couldn’t even find it in himself to force a fake smile as members of his extended family regarded you like well-kept livestock. He knew the duty to the kingdom. His was to become king and to take a queen, and that was why you were even in this room and near him in the first place, but the fact that they expected him to put a child in you. How was he going to be able to—The bile was sitting in his throat. It was too close to dark and Jihoon could feel the rumbling in his head as he dug his nails into his palm as you shifted closer to him to get out of someone’s way. 

“My apologies, monseigneur.” 

Your voice was so small that it made the hair on Jihoon’s neck stand up. He could smell the champagne on your breath and he couldn’t help how his eyes moved over your beautiful face and down your frame. Taking a calming breath, Jihoon shakes his head and carefully removes the flute from your fingers, placing it on a tray as a servant passes by. “Quite enough. They are trying to keep you inebriated and pliant. You’ll be sick in the morning.” 

Wrinkling your nose to Jihoon’s hushed words, you meet his eyes and barely hold back a scoff. You knew he wasn’t wrong, but you were four glasses of champagne in and it made the night feel less like hell. “As you wish.” The room was too loud without something in your hand, without your distraction. You could hear the gossip now. You could hear the compliments and their halfhearted meanings, but you were better at putting on a fake smile. “Mm, can—will you give me my ring now?” 

You just wanted to get this over with. Somehow that both broke Jihoon’s heart and brought him back to reality. He had made you this way. It was a fair question. You had endured a couple of hours of this and he had been watching the sun slowly fading behind the trees for the last half hour. “As you wish.” 

The sound of Jihoon clearing his throat brought a hush over the room. You watch as he puts on the first fake smile of the night while opening and closing his fist at his side out of nerves. “Thank you, each of you for spending the evening with us. On behalf of myself and Madame Y/N, we wanted to let you know how deeply grateful we are that you could share this important moment with us.” 

Jihoon was good at lying and yet as you watched him, transfixed on his frustratingly handsome face, you realized you knew he was lying through his teeth. There was something about his body language—the way his voice went up and down in octaves as he went through his well-practiced speech. He had planned places for people to laugh, for them to aww and coo; he was a puppet master working the strings so well, but you could see the strings for what they were just as well as you saw the pain in his eyes. 

“It’s an exciting day.” Smiling along with the happy laughter, Jihoon looks down at this jacket to find you watching him carefully. You are the only one who sees his facade break for a moment as he takes the ring box from his jacket and you are the only one who sees how his fingers tremble with fear as he removes the delicate ring. “A gi—gift for my beautiful betrothed...” 

The stuttering of his words is the first real indication to everyone in the room that Jihoon might be breaking and at the first sign of a muttered word, you aren’t sure why it puts you into motion, but it does. A wave of desire to protect the man in front of you from anything, including anxiety or embarrassment, puts a smile on your face and has your left hand lifted towards Jihoon’s hand. “And what a stunning gift it is, monseigneur. I’m truly honored that I’ll share my life with you.” 

You were a beautiful liar. Jihoon could see and almost smell the lie on you, but he was so thankful to you as he slid the diamond ring on to your finger. Your eyes kept him steadfast and calm as the rest of the room erupted in cheers. Not even the rumble in his ears and tingling at the back of his neck stood a chance in that moment as Jihoon leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your knuckles, keeping his eyes locked with yours. 

There was a shift in the air with that kiss. A breath of hope filled your lungs seeing the look in Jihoon’s eyes. Would things finally change? Could you find a way to love your new home and your soon-to-be husband? 

Fingers wrap around yours as Jihoon laughs under his breath, accepting well wishes for you both. You are thankful for him keeping you grounded, much like your champagne had once been. You find yourself even more thankful when he excuses you both under the excuse that you are tired and he must allow his beautiful fiancée to get her rest. 

“Oh, thank God. I felt like I was going to suffocate—” 

The moment the doors shut behind you and Jihoon, you feel his hand drop from yours, leaving you feeling confused and cold. You watch as he runs his fingers through his hair and rocks his head from left to right as if to release the tension in his neck before he turns his attention back to you with a now familiar disappointed look on his face. 

“Go to your room, Y/N. It’s going to be night soon.” 

This was all you were getting from Jihoon after such a touching moment? Where had the man who had slipped the ring on your finger and looked so deeply into your eyes gone? “I—I’m not tired, ye—” 

“And I don’t care. This isn’t about your ability to sleep. Do as you are told.” It was getting harder to keep himself calm as you scoffed at him. Jihoon could see your lips moving; he could hear the dull mumble of your words, but it was difficult to make out the words. Something else was talking over his senses and Jihoon knew that this wasn’t going to be a good night. “Shut up, for the love of God. I put that fucking ring on your finger so you will obey me! Go to your goddamn room and lock the door, Y/N!” 

Stunned by Jihoon’s outburst, you stumble back on your heels in an attempt to get away, only to feel your balance waver. Fingers wrap tightly around your wrist above your bracelet and you meet Jihoon’s angry eyes, noticing for the first time a slight shift in their color. His once dark brown eyes seem golden as he looks from your face down to the bracelet, his lips curling in anger. “I told you that you drank too much... And what the fuck is this?” 

“Leave me alone, Jihoon.” 

Once again, your voice was soft and too small, almost breaking Jihoon’s heart, but he wasn’t the one that you were dealing with anymore. The jealousy flaring in him wasn’t a normal occurrence; this side of him came with the predator that was ready to run free with the moon rising in the sky. 

“I’ll do what I want since you seem to do the same.” Using just the strength in his fingers, Jihoon breaks the fragile clasp of your bracelet, ignoring your sobbing pleas for him to stop. You both watch as the gold thorns slip from your wrist and clatter to the ground at Jihoon’s feet. “Now, obey me.” 

Tears streaked your cheeks and down your neck as you leaned against the door of your room. Clutching the broken bracelet to your chest, you sob openly, wondering if the sound you are hearing—the wailing growl—is coming from you or your imagination. By the time that you are calm enough to think clearly, the sound is gone. You find yourself alone and numb, with pieces of your home shattered in your hand, much like your heart inside your chest. 

5

It was too bright. There was the smell of copper in his nose and Jihoon’s body felt as if he had been trampled by a stampede of horses. Turning onto his back, he rests his forearm over his eyes and groans, the now too familiar feeling of the forest floor under his bare back. 

Everything had happened too quickly and Jihoon had barely made it off the palace grounds before his body had been torn apart by his curse. It hurt every single time, and every time he could remember it in detail. He supposed that was the point. A curse wasn’t meant to be pleasant. He was being punished. His family was being punished. That was why his muscles were torn fiber by fiber, his bones broken bit by bit, and his skin ripped until nothing human was left of him—only the beast. 

To anyone looking at him, unknowing what they were seeing, Jihoon would look like a bear. A great, large black bear with golden brown eyes that had tormented Aetherial Grove from the moment that he had reached puberty. His mother and father had thought that the man’s curse had been a lie. Perhaps his threat had been that Jihoon almost died during childbirth, but no, it was much worse. Instead, they had witnessed their precious son shifting into a monster and slaughtering half of their palace staff after becoming slightly upset. 

What was worse about Jihoon’s curse was the morning after the beast would take hold of him. Not only would his body feel as if it had been in fact torn apart at the very fiber, but he could remember down to the second what the beast had done. He could see every person he had killed or mauled but he had no way to prevent it. No matter how hard Jihoon tried, every single princess would wander out of the palace at night due to stupidity or curiosity and each time the beast would claim them. 

That was why Jihoon treated you the way he did. That was why he kept you at a distance and made you hate him. He couldn’t kill you if you were never around him. 

“Jihoon.” 

Wincing at Soonyoung’s voice, Jihoon turns on his side and pulls his legs up towards his stomach. Of course he would already be looking for him. He was grateful, but there were days when he wished everyone would just let him vanish or let him die. Was he worth this? 

“Come on. I have clothes... I—you need to come back quickly. Your father—” This wasn’t something that Soonyoung wanted to tell Jihoon. He could already see the realization in the prince’s eyes as he took the clothes from his hand and swallowed the air as if it were water. “I’m sorry. I—” 

“Stop. I don’t want—fuck.” Jihoon’s clothes felt foreign against his skin as he quickly dressed himself, hearing his heart in his ears. This was just one more thing that the curse was taking from him. “Is he—” 

“No. No, he’s just—the doctor says before the day is over. Your mother told me to find you as quickly as possible.”  

Jihoon didn’t need to hear anything else. He didn’t want to hear anything else. He was feeling far too many emotions at once while trying not to let a single one of them bubble to the surface as he walked quickly in front of Soonyoung towards the pair of waiting horses. 

On a good day, any of the palace horses would struggle to trust Jihoon; animals were smarter than normal humans by a long shot. Today was not a good day; every tug at the horses reigns had the animal fighting for control and more terrified of what was on her back. 

“Please… I’m trying!” Yelling wasn’t helping, but Jihoon was swallowing back the bile in his throat as he saw the palace come into view at the treeline. He was so close. He just needed the horse to push forward for a little while longer—and then it happened; perhaps Jihoon had been too sharp with his heel into her flank but the horse had enough and Jihoon felt the wind knocked out of his lungs as his back met the ground. 

You knew something was off at the palace. Everyone was on edge and yet no one would tell you anything. Something had gone from the moment that the engagement party had ended, and then when you had woken up, it was worse. 

You had heard loud yet hushed muttering from every corner that would silence the moment you came into few. You weren’t privy to a single thing and yet the ring on your finger told you that you should be. Weren’t you going to be important to them? Shouldn’t you already be important? 

Outside was better. The palace always felt suffocating to you. From the first day you had walked it, not only had it become your echo chamber—every word reverberating back a thousand times into your brain—but also it had sucked the air from your lungs. You knew that Jihoon preferred you to stay inside, even during the day, but today was one of the days when you didn’t feel much like doing anything he wanted. 

The palace gardens were filled with beautiful things. Flowers, vines, trees—anything you could think of you might find in front of you and yet it made you sad as you thought back to the shards of gold now laying on your vanity. You had tried to piece back together your treasured bracelet only to make it worse. The clasp had held the delicate overlapping thorns together and when Jihoon had broken it, there was nothing left to keep them from falling apart. That was much like your heart as you had sat in front of the vanity and struggled uselessly, watching the bracelet become unrecognizable. There was only the memory of when you had received it now and you would hold it close to your heart and cherish it forever. 

You hadn’t known many boys in Thornwood. Your father was a strict king when it came to his kingdom and his daughter. It had been in your early teenage years when you had finally met Kim Mingyu and he was the first boy your father hadn’t instantly run off. 

Mingyu was the son of a duke. In your father’s eyes, perhaps one day if nothing better came along that might be a suitable match, but it was more than that—you had been happy to just have a friend. It wasn’t until you were older, months before the letter came from Aetherial Grove, that you realized something different might come from your relationship with Mingyu. While you had never considered him in that light before, there was something about the possibility that made you take a step back and really picture it only to have the picture torn in front of your face by a royal letter. 

“So, don’t make fun of it... It’s not perfect; I’ve never done work with gold before.” You had fondly watched Mingyu as he fumbled slightly with the delicate clasp of the bracelet before finally managing to secure it on your wrist. “Maybe it’s not half bad. I just wanted you to have a little piece of home while you—I mean in your new home, Princess.” 

Your piece of home and piece of your best friend was now shattered by someone you were starting to despise. Trying your best to push the angry and painful thoughts from your mind, you walk closer to the edge of the garden, looking out towards the treeline. The forest was truly beautiful. You could understand the appeal and why many wanted to explore it, though you had been forbidden to do so, even on horseback—so why was it that someone was coming out of it now? 

Squinting slightly to the brightness of the morning sun, you tilt your head before shock registers within you as you watch the horse buck hard. Your eyes follow Jihoon as he falls backwards from the horse and lands in the tall grass hidden from your view, causing your heart to sink. “Oh my god, Jihoon!” 

By the time you make it on foot to Jihoon and Soonyoung, the butler is down from his horse and on his knee beside the prince. With your hand at your stomach and tears stinging your eyes, you quickly move to the other side of Jihoon and do the same without regard to your dress or your legs as the ground bites into your knees angrily. “Jihoon? What the hell happened, Soonyoung?” 

You were different than any other woman that had come to Aetherial Grove by far. Even as Soonyoung checked over Jihoon for injuries, being careful not to move him too quickly, he watched you curiously, surprised by your quick arrival. “I—the horse got spooked, I think. She threw him. He’s—there’s blood. Mons— Jihoon?” 

Anxiety and fear had your stomach in knots as you saw the blood from the back of Jihoon’s head on Soonyoung’s fingers. Wrapping your fingers around Jihoon's, you whine his name, watching his eyelids flutter for a moment before he groans in pain and slowly opens his eyes, starting to come to. 

“Fuck—” Attempting to sit up, Jihoon hisses in pain and tightens his fingers around yours before laying back down for a moment. “Stupid fucking mare..." Jihoon knew it wasn’t the horses fault, but the pain radiating through his back and his head made him want to lash out at something. “I need to get to the palace—Father.” 

Using your free hand, you put a light amount of pressure on Jihoon’s shoulder when he tries to sit back up. “Just wait, I—please? You can wait a moment. You are bleeding, Ji—” 

“St—stop coddling me. I’m fine.” Moving his hand to wrap it around your wrist where your bracelet had been the night before, Jihoon lightly draws a circle over your pulse point with his eyes still closed. “‘M fine. I have to get to the palace. Father needs me.” 

Nothing that Jihoon was saying made sense to you, but Soonyoung simply nodded along while gently moving your hand from Jihoon’s shoulder.

“I know. Perhaps—” Timidly meeting your eyes, Soonyoung almost winces before speaking. “I could put the prince on the horse with you. I’ve seen you ride... I think—” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Soonyoung. I can do it alone.” 

“Of course.” 

When you and Jihoon speak up almost at the same time, Soonyoung looks taken aback, his eyes moving from one person to the other before he sighs and settles on the prince. “Let her help. She—Jihoon, she wants to help.” 

You shouldn’t have to help. You shouldn’t be seeing him like this, weak and flustered. He was going to be the king, your king. More importantly, as things were progressing, Jihoon was going to be your husband and now you were having to mother him already. Pathetic. Lee Jihoon was pathetic and unworthy of the throne and you. 

Without another word, Jihoon lets you and Soonyoung help him to his feet as he sways on his feet, unable to keep his balance. Lifting your hand, you carefully touch the back of his head furrowing your brows when Jihoon winces and jerks away from you in pain. “This looks—you should see the doctor, Monseigneur.” 

Your voice had started so strong and yet the more you spoke with Jihoon, your hand loosely in his, your confidence faltered. Sighing under his breath, Jihoon nods and glances towards you as you move to take the reigns of the horse that had bucked him off. With you next to her, there was a calm in the air. There was no fear in her eyes, almost as if she knew that you wouldn’t let anyone, beast or man, harm her. 

“Jihoon. Just—call me Jihoon. I don’t like when you call me Monseigneur in private. You—you’re going to be my wife. It seems odd.” 

While you agreed, you could also remember this same man reminding you that you would obey him. You offer him a gentle smile and a nod as you carefully slip your foot into the stirrup before hosting yourself into the saddle. “Of course—” Swallowing hard, you glance down at your hands on the horn of the saddle, the reigns loosely draped over your fingers. “Jihoon.” You had said his name many times, and even when you were terrified for his wellbeing, saying it now at his request felt different. 

Furrowing his brows tightly, Jihoon could feel the air around him shift. There was something about you. From the moment that you had stepped foot in Aetherial Grove, things were different. It wasn’t just that he was trying to distance himself from you; it was something else and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

With a few muttered curses and a disgruntled groan, Jihoon finds himself seated behind you with his hands hovering over your waist. You could feel the warmth of them through the layers of your dress and even the boning in your corset, so much so that it was difficult to not let a small smirk pull at your lips when you urge the horse to take a step forward and feel Jihoon finally grab ahold of you for stability. 

“May I ask you something?” 

Despite your ability to keep the horse much steadier than he had, Jihoon still found himself wincing with each step. He almost felt every stone under the horse’s hooves as you carefully directed her towards the palace. Swallowing hard to your question and tone, Jihoon chews on his cheek before glancing back to where Soonyoung was following at a moderate distance—almost too far, leaving Jihoon to defend for himself with you. 

“I suppose. Is something wrong?” He knew that was the wrong question to ask the moment it left his mouth. Closing his eyes, Jihoon leans his head back towards the sky and listens to you take in a sharp breath as the horse shifts to the right and towards the palace stables. 

Did he really want to know? You had a laundry list of things that were wrong, but that wasn’t what you wanted to ask right now. “Um, it’s not—well, in a way. I don’t wish to seem unappreciative or spoiled, but—” Sighing under your breath, you furrow your brows, deciding to start over. “What I mean is, I am just wondering if there is something about me you find unpleasant. Perhaps you are unhappy with this arrangement? I’m not attractive or intelligent enough to be your queen and in which case, Monseigneur, perha—” 

“Stop it. What are you—” Unconsciously digging his fingers into your sides at your corset, Jihoon grits his teeth, feeling the frustration rising in him. He knew this was his fault and while he hadn’t planned on changing it, he also didn’t want you as miserable as you seemed right now. “You aren’t unpleasant. I don’t—you aren’t unpleasant to me, Y/N.” 

Straightening your back out of surprise, you take in a deeper breath at the strength of Jihoon’s grip. It wasn’t just that his touch had tightened; it was how he was speaking to you. There was a layer of desperation in his voice, as if he were begging you to understand without truly saying it. “O—okay. I just—” 

“No, just nothing. You are beautiful—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You are going to make a perfect queen, I have no doubt. I—” Stopping short, Jihoon removes his hands from your waist, realizing that you have brought the horse to a stop. There was no need for him to be touching you anymore, no need for all of the dramatics and yet he couldn’t help himself as you glanced back at him, your eyes low, causing your lashes to shield your gaze from him. Resting his index finger under your chin, Jihoon sighs softly and allows himself a moment to be a man who is truly engaged looking at his future bride. “You are incredible and I hate myself for making you feel so small. One day—” 

Every word was reaching your ears and yet your heart was beating so fast and hard in your chest that you were afraid you might fall from the saddle and perish on the ground. Jihoon’s simple touch had your skin on fire and something lit inside of you—a desire that you had never felt in your life. You had come close to what you suspected had been desire—a brush of lips across yours from Mingyu—but this, Jihoon’s thumb grazing your bottom lip and watching your lips part felt private and precious.  

"Perhaps one day you’ll learn why I am—why I have kept you—” Jihoon was struggling to find the right words and he could see Soonyoung’s panicked face as the man paced a few feet away. “I have to go, Madame. Remember the rules, please. That is all I ask of you.” 

You start to speak and to argue with Jihoon. You want him to finish explaining himself, but he jumps from one topic to the next and then suddenly the back of your knuckles are against his lips. You are left watching Soonyoung help him down from the horse and your eyes follow both until they disappear behind the palace walls. 

Every part of Jihoon’s body was aching. It always was after a night of shifting, but the fall from the horse had only served to make it worse. Brushing his fingers over the back of his head, he and Soonyoung moved through the halls. Jihoon winces in pain, though his mind lingers on you and the range of emotions he had just taken you through. None of this was fair to you. He hoped and prayed that one day he might be able to explain this to you and you understood. He wished with every fiber of his being that he would be able to keep you alive, but the more he started to feel something for you, a longing, the rumbling from the beast trapped inside of him grew louder and more angry with jealousy. 

6

“Mon amour…” 

It was difficult for Jihoon to watch his mother grieve while his father took his last breaths. He was expected to stay strong and on the surface he did. He showed little to no emotion. Jihoon was a rock for his family and especially his mother, but on the inside, the son that his father had raised was devastated as he watched his father pass. He wanted nothing more than to run from the room and lock himself away in his rooms to get rid of the pressure behind his eyes. 

“Come—come here, mon fils.” Beckoning Jihoon closer, his mother sobs softly through the words before taking his hand and bringing it to her heart, using him as the anchor he would have to be. “I—mon fils.” 

Jihoon knew without his mother even saying the words what she was thinking. He knew what came next. The mourning period. The funeral and the burial, but most importantly, he would sooner rather than later now go from crown prince to king. “I know, maman. I’ll take care of it all. You should—I’ll have Jieun help you to your roo—” 

“No! Not yet. I can’t leave him, Jihoon.” 

The tears that Jihoon was trying to keep at bay were harder to push back now as his mother pulled from him and clung to his father’s arm. He didn’t understand that sort of love, though he had witnessed it through them his entire life. He hoped for that sort of love. It made him think of you and how confused you must be not knowing what was truly happening in the palace. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, maman. I know…I won’t make you leave. I’m sorry.” Brushing his lips against the top of her head, Jihoon feels his mothers grief wash through him in how her body trembles. Leaning his head back towards the ceiling as he takes a deep breath to keep his emotions at bay, he nods once and finds Wonwoo by his father’s bed with a solemn look on his face. “Stay with her, please. Until she is ready to leave, you and Jieun. I need—I have to do something.” 

Even stepping out of the room and into the hall, Jihoon could feel a bit of the weight lifting from him but what replaced it was worse. Clenching his fist over his chest, he takes a deep breath as he leans against the wall hidden from prying eyes. Somehow the anger and disappointment that he felt every day were nothing compared to the feeling he was overwhelmed with now as Jihoon tried to force himself forward towards your room. 

Everything had gone deadly silent on the side of the palace where you resided. You knew that you were a bit of distance from the king’s rooms and Jihoon’s but usually you could hear servants in the hallways going about their tasks and tending to the queen, but today there was nothing. It was making your anxiety all that much worse after the morning and your interaction with Jihoon. 

The prince was truly an enigma to you. While you wanted to hate him, and in some ways perhaps you did resent him, you couldn’t find it in your heart to truly allow yourself in your heart to hate Jihoon. There was something inside of him that wanted to be close to you. You had sensed it more than once now and even if the other part of him was pushing you away, the man who had looked deeply into your eyes and taken your breath away with a simple touch had your mind spiraling. 

Sitting at your window, you lean your head back against the wall with a book in your lap. You had started to read it hours ago now, but every word led you back to where you were now—your eyes on the trees as their leaves moved with the wind as it picked up in speed. There was a storm coming. You hated storms. You always had, but back in Thornwood you had distractions and protection. You had run to your father or mother, who would keep you close. You had let Mingyu wrap his arm around you, shielding you from the sounds—as soon as Mingyu enters your mind again, you push him out. Since the previous day's incident with your bracelet, it seemed he wouldn’t leave your thoughts alone. 

The rain starts calm, with large drops that hit your window with dull thuds but quickly, but with the wind getting stronger so does the rain. Wincing, you close your book and recoil slightly from the sounds of the water assaulting your window when a knock at your door startles you even more, causing you to gasp in surprise. 

“Y/N?” 

Jihoon knew he should wait for you to answer the door or at least speak, but the sound of your fear takes away his logic. He had asked for you to lock your door but this was one time he was glad you rarely listened to him when his eyes scanned your parlor to find you with your hands over your head sitting by your window. The pain that he had been feeling from the loss of his father is shifted to the side in place of his concern for you as Jihoon mutters your name and quickly moves across the room and kneels by your side, timidly reaching for your hands. “What’s happened? Why—are you okay?” 

Embarrassment washes over you when you realize that Jihoon is in your room, seeing you cower from a few loud noises. You are certain this isn’t who he or anyone wants for the queen. Though no one truly looked to the queen in a time of perill, you still should be able to lead and command, and here you were meeting Jihoon’s eyes, attempting to feign courage. “O–of course. I’m—nothing happ—” 

Jihoon could tell you were lying as you spoke. He had seen the times you lied and thought to some people you were a decent liar; with him, he could see right through it. Starting to call you out on it to cut you off, he doesn’t have to at the first strike of lightning and boom of thunder. The act you are putting on shatters as Jihoon watches you tightly close your eyes and visibly shake as the sound reverberates around the room. 

Storms had never bothered Jihoon; in fact, in many ways he enjoyed them. The walls of the palace made the rain louder and the thunderclaps seem to last longer, which in turn drowned out the rumbling he heard constantly. Clearly, you didn’t feel the same way. You put on a good face; it was a beautiful one and a strong one, but deep down Jihoon could see how delicate and precious you were. 

“Mon ange…” Muttering under his breath, Jihoon moves his gaze from you to the window, watching the rain angrily coming down to the earth. “I didn’t know you were afraid of storms.” Speaking loud enough for you to hear him now, he slides his hand along the back of your arm towards your elbow, trying to get your attention on him fully. “But I—” 

“You don’t know anything about me, Jihoon.” You didn’t mean to lash out at Jihoon; however, in the moment you felt raw. His words felt like needles and his touch felt foreign, because it was. No matter how much you wanted to be close to him, it was difficult to rely on someone who had spent so long pushing you away and treating you like a virus. “Wha—why are you here?” 

Your reaction to him was valid. While it stung, Jihoon understood where it came from. If Soonyoung had been there, he would agree that he brought this upon himself. Nodding along with you, he sighs and closes his hand, removing it from your arm to give you a bit of space. “I know. I—I apologize for—there’s a lot that you just don't—" Leaning his head back, Jihoon feels your eyes follow him even as he closes his eyes and takes a calming breath, feeling the waves of emotions roll over him again. “I don’t deserve your kindness with how I have treated you. There is a reason behind my actions but it’s not something I can explain to—”  

“Jihoon! You’ve been cruel. You’ve banished me to—” Wincing to another boom of thunder, you whimper and slide from the window seat into the floor next to Jihoon, feeling him shift to sit next to you. It takes a moment for you to regain your composure but he never rushes you; instead, Jihoon stays close without crowding you. “All I know are these rooms and what I have been able to explore of the palace. You won’t let me off the grounds. I try to get close to you and you get angry at me. You—” 

Tears slip down your cheeks similarly to how the rain marks the glass of your window, and all Jihoon can do is watch and listen to you falter, finally speaking through your sobs. In his mind he knew why he had made you do all of these things and why he had pushed you away but to you it made no sense. It wasn’t fair to you, just like it wasn’t fair that you never knew anything that was happening in the palace you now called your home. “There is so much I need to—Y/N… It’s difficult, but please try to understand that I have been attempting to shield you and keep you safe. I know that I have gone about it in a strange way and it’s not fair—” 

“It’s—it’s not fair! What did I do to deserve this? Why did you make me come here, Jihoon? Why me?!” Finally pulling your legs up, you lean forward and rest your forearms on your knees burying your face against your arms, letting out sobs that only get louder with each deep rumble of thunder. 

Jihoon knew that he hadn’t been the one to make you come to Aetherial Grove but he felt responsible enough. You were breaking his heart as your body shook with grief and fear, something he understood all too well. Leaning his head back against the base of the window seat, Jihoon shifts his eyes down and to the side to keep an eye on you, not rushing you as you work through your emotions. Resting his arm over his chest, he carefully reaches for your fingers, circling his thumb over the diamond on your finger. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I—I wish I could fix it. I—my father, he—” Sighing, Jihoon looks away from you, feeling your fingers shift to hold on to him at another crash of thunder as he speaks. “He died a few hours ago. Everything is going to change now.” 

The weight of Jihoon’s words hit you even as the thunder shakes your windows and you lift your head to look at him. That was why everyone was quiet and where everyone had been. Why had no one told you? Were you not important enough to know that the king had passed away? As soon as the anger starts to sink in for you and you think to complain, it passes when you see the look on Jihoon’s face. Yes, you were still upset and a lot of your frustration was with him but he was in pain. How could he not be? Then it dawns on you; he is the prince and a son. He’s not allowed to mourn the same way around certain people. Those people wouldn’t be you. 

“Oh, Jihoon…” 

There is a soft compassion in your voice that almost instantly breaks Jihoon. It reminds him of how he had heard his mother speak to his father on so many occasions. Closing his eyes tightly, Jihoon tries to force himself not to let go, but when you turn towards him and lean against him, his resolve shatters. There were only a handful of times that Jihoon could even remember truly crying. He had been taught that this sort of emotion was weak and dangerous, but with you holding his hand, he didn’t feel like anything could hurt him as he felt it all for the first time that day in waves. 

7

Jihoon had been right; everything did change. There had been a few days of mourning and a moment to breathe before the air and ground had been ripped out from underneath you both. Suddenly your days were filled with wedding preparations and daily meetings with various members of Jihoon’s family as they helped walk you through not only expectations of your wedding but the coronation. 

You had found yourself on more than one occasion wanting to find time to spend with Jihoon only to be whisked away without more than a dozen words spoken between the two of you. Even without the time you wanted, you could still feel the difference after the storm and after you had shared your feelings with Jihoon. He was different. While you could almost see the stress as it surrounded him like a blanket, you could also see the tenderness in his gaze as he looked at you. You could feel the same each time he would lift your hand and kiss the back of your knuckles before apologizing for once again being pulled away to a meeting, leaving you to deal with the wedding on your own. 

“You’ve changed him.” 

There had been very few moments when you had spent an extended period of time alone with the queen, but today was one of them. The two of you watch as Jihoon once again excuses himself and with her words, your cheeks warm as they would be if you were standing too close to the fireplace. Pressing your lips together, you pick up the sample fabrics laid between the two of you when she smiles and reaches for your hand, taking your fingers into her own and squeezing them gently. 

“I don’t know how. And I know it’s been a difficult few months with us.” 

Hearing her voice break, you finally lift your head and meet Jihoon’s mother’s eyes with concern, sliding your hand into hers and offering her comfort. You watch as she smiles sadly and tilts her head, looking down at your hand as she adjusts the ring on your finger, remembering when Jihoon’s father had put it on her hand so many years ago. 

“He’s difficult, I know. We are difficult. I’m not proud of how—” Shaking her head, she sniffs back her tears along with her words, choosing not to go on with them. “I hope that you can grow to love him. That you will learn to love one another. He’s so special, Y/N. You are special; I feel it.” 

There was so much left unsaid. Not only from the queen but Jihoon. It seemed that almost everyone in the palace would skirt around things, keeping just enough information from you as if it would keep you pliant. Sighing, you tilt your head and smile at the woman watching her fingers adjust your ring with precision and care. “Thank you, Madame. I haven’t… I—well, if anything, I fear I’ve frustrated him more than anything. He just pushes—” Realizing that you are starting to complain about her son, your soon-to-be husband, and the soon-to-be king, you swallow hard and put a smile back on your face. “I will improve on my ability to adapt and obey my husband.” 

It wasn’t much of a secret—your discomfort and Jihoon’s seeming disinterest in you and your feelings. While Jihoon’s mother knew that most of what Jihoon had been doing had kept you healthy and alive, it still was a lot for you to handle. You had come from a completely different kingdom to a place where you were expected to follow a new set of rules, and you had your life turned upside down in the matter of days. Now just a few months later, it had happened again; you were being sent spiraling down the aisle. 

“Mm, and I’m sure over time things will get easier... for the both of you.” 

You wished that the queen would say more. It was always like she wanted to tell you something, give more advice, and yet she’d swallow it every single time before changing the subject back to the wedding or the coronation. You were left looking over the fabrics in your lap as she spoke softly enough for you to almost drown her out, leaving her voice a dull echo in the room as she planned much of it for you with Jieun. 

Jihoon was growing tired of meetings already and he knew for the rest of his life this is what he had to look forward to. Sitting at the head of the table, he let the paper rest between his fingers as he pretended to look over it as much as he pretended to be listening to his cousin speak about the same topic for the last twenty minutes. None of this was important. He had more important things—in his opinion—to be doing, and you had looked so disappointed when he had once again been pulled away from you and the wedding planning. 

It wasn’t as if he had wanted this. He didn’t want to be listening to budget adjustments and which kingdoms owed Aetherial Grove what. He knew most of them owed something, and to him it didn’t matter. Aetherial Grove had more than enough to endure for centuries at this point, and he knew why. He dealt with the backlash of that deal almost every night, and every night that he wasn’t getting his body torn apart, he was thrashing in his bed with nightmares. 

“So it might do us well to seek out some repayment from at least thirty percent of these—” 

“Why? Where did you find that number?” 

It seemed that others in the room found it surprising that Jihoon had actually been following along, with how he had seemed to be staring off into the table. When he spoke, it caused several of the men in the room to shift uncomfortably and to straighten their backs, realizing their crown prince, the man they would call king in just a matter of two weeks, was listening to every single word despite him wanting to or not. 

“I—from my research, Ji—Monseigneur. It would benefit us. There is a royal wedding in less than a week and a coronation. I—I’m not certain that you understand how expensive—”

“I understand that you all seem to think I’m an idiot. You think that because I am new to this particular station and not yet fully seated that you can get by with whatever you wish; that won’t happen.” Pushing the papers from in front of him, Jihoon moves to stand, watching many of the others in the room do the same, but mostly Soonyoung and Wonwoo, who are ready to do what he commands. “Leave the other kingdoms alone. If the wedding and coronation are so expensive that you have to find ways to subsidise the budget, we can cut back on both. There is no need for all the fanfare. I doubt Madame Y/N would much disagree with me on this. Neither of us need some grand affair—” 

“It’s for neither of you! It’s for your kingdom, Monseigneur!” Having kept quiet for most of the meeting, Jihoon’s eldest uncle finally leans forward and raises his voice, causing the rest of the room to fall silent. “As for what Madame Y/N wants, I don’t care and I doubt many others do either. We appreciate her presence and she is a requirement, but she doesn’t get a say in this. You barely get a say in this. You aren’t king yet. We might have money to make this all work, but you need to learn the ins and outs of your kingdom before you go about throwing around your ego and making big decisions.” 

The room suddenly felt smaller; too small, as Jihoon stared at the older man, feeling his chest tightening. He knew there would be push and pull as he took his rightful place as king and knew there would be those who would think to know better than him; he just hadn’t expected it to be those who had held his father in such high regard. “I care.” 

Jihoon’s voice is smaller than intended at first, causing his uncle to furrow his brows and lean forward to hear him better, but the second time that Jihoon speaks, he has the man and other’s sitting back in their seats. “I care, what Y/N wants! You can have your wedding and your coronations, but you will not speak about her like that again. You won’t speak to me like that. This meeting is over, gentlemen. I have a fiancée to see to.” 

8

There were only 36 hours left before you would officially be Jihoon’s wife. Invitations had been sent out and guests were beginning to arrive from surrounding kingdoms, including your own. You had been thrilled when your mother and father had arrived and you had been able to see the pride in their eyes as you walked them through your new home. 

It was easy to see that the benefit of your dowry was making a difference for them. You could see the difference mostly in your father. The stress that you had almost grown accustomed to seeing etched on his face was gone,replaced with happiness as he held your mother close and complimented every detail of the palace. You had felt the most sense of pride yourself when Jihoon had finally made time to meet your parents and put on his best face. 

Over the time since his father had passed away, Jihoon had changed dramatically. You could see it; everyone could, and yet there was still something so distant about him that you were trying to figure out. He still wouldn’t allow you the freedom you longed for and still kept you at a distance that left you cold and left your heart slowly splintering. 

“Of course you are welcome to visit Y/N, and she—perhaps she could visit you more often.” 

Jihoon’s words have your parent’s preening, your mother swooning over him and your father in awe, but to you, you can sense that he’s trying to get you out of the palace. You aren’t even sure how you know, but you do, and it’s even more obvious to you when Jihoon meets your eyes and stumbles over his words before dismissing himself to get back to important matters. 

“I—I’ll see you later for din—dinner.” The disappointment was evident in your eyes and Jihoon had to get away from it. You saw right through him and sometimes he was terrified that you saw more than he wanted. Did you know more than you let on? What if you knew about his curse? Would you hate him? Hate that you were marrying a murderer? Barely brushing his lips against your fingers, Jihoon blows out a panicked breath and slips out of the room. Meeting the eyes of a tall and broad man, he nods in his direction without asking who he is or why he is there. Instead, he moves quickly down the hall and out of sight, not hearing as Wonwoo announces the arrival of another guest. 

“Madame. Monsieur Kim Mingyu, Duke of Leressair, has arrived.” 

You aren’t sure why you hadn’t expected Mingyu to accept your invitation, but seeing him for the first time in so many months has your heart in your throat. Quickly standing, you smooth your dress and listen as your father greets Mingyu, ushering him into the room towards the sofas. 

“Thank you.” Unable to keep his smile from growing too wide as he looks at you, Mingyu takes in a deep breath and lets it out a bit unsteadily. He almost hadn’t accepted the invitation but the desire to see you at least one more time was too great and if it had to be like this, then so be it. “Madame—” 

“Stop it.” The playful smile on Mingyu’s lips as he uses your title makes your stomach tighten even as he reaches for your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them gently, managing to linger just a second too long. “Don’t call me that, please.” 

“Mm, fine. It’s wonderful to see you, Y/N. You look—” Mingyu lets out another breath, trying not to overstep but it had always been difficult when it came to you and he wasn’t sure if your prince was in the room or not. “Congratulations on your wedding. I’m glad you invited me. Care to, uh—wanna show me around?” 

It was a bold attempt at getting you alone so you could talk freely, but it worked. You knew that your parents trusted Mingyu and you had no reason not to, despite your own heart beating out of your chest as you looked at him now. Offering him your hand, you smile as Mingyu carefully guides it through his arm to rest on his forearm before letting you lead the way. 

The moment that you and Mingyu step out of the room, you know you aren’t alone. You can feel eyes behind you and hear the muffled steps drawing your eyes over your shoulder as you frown at Wonwoo. “I—Wonwoo… I’m fine. I am just showing him around the palace. I don’t need a sitter.” 

“Not my intention, Madame. Simply following protocol... You would rather I—” 

“I would rather you didn’t follow me. Please? I want to talk to my friend. If Jihoon needs me, I’m certain any one of you can find me. I am not difficult to find and Mingyu is very obvious.” 

It was clear that Wonwoo wasn’t sure about following your wishes, his eyes moving over Mingyu as the taller man offers him a simple smile, almost feigning innocence, letting you speak for him. “If that’s what you want, Madame...” Wonwoo had no reason not to like Kim Mingyu, but he already felt uneasy with him here. 

Sighing, clearly exasperated, you tug on Mingyu’s arm and lead him forward. Nodding at Wonwoo, you watch the steward stay where he is, though his eyes follow you until you are out of sight. 

“Is it always like this? You aren’t allowed to just—I don’t know, exist?” 

Finally, someone understood how you felt without you having to sit down and explain it to them. Pouting up at Mingyu, you turn towards the gardens and sigh under your breath. So often since you had arrived in Aetherial Grove, you had felt like a prisoner in a fancy cell and this was one of the only times you felt like you had a semblance of freedom. “You have no idea, Mingyu. I—I shouldn’t speak poorly of my new family.” 

“It’s between us, Y/N, as always. Your secrets are my secrets. That hasn’t changed, dove.” 

The pet name slipping from Mingyu’s lips not only has your cheeks burning but also a bit of shame and excitement rushing through you as you lead him further into the gardens away from the palace to enjoy the privacy. The name was nothing romantic or anything you should be ashamed of, but it could be misunderstood. It had come simply from your wish to be as free as a bird all of your life. You had sat in your window and Mingyu had caught you so many times staring off at the sky and daydreaming that the name had stuck when he had asked you if you were going to fly away like a dove. 

“No, perhaps not, but it feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you now. Things are complicated here.” Sliding your hand along Mingyu’s arm, your fingers catch his briefly, feeling him almost attempting to keep your hand in his before you find your hand back at your side. Looking down at the flowers, you sigh under your breath, feeling Mingyu’s eyes on you, forever patient as always, though his eyes move along your face and down your body, studying you. “I’m not allowed to leave the palace and there’s only so much I am able to do inside. It’s suffocating. I–” 

Mingyu watches you laugh; though he can tell the laugh is without humor, it’s almost sad, causing him to furrow his brows and move closer to you. Wrapping his fingers around your wrist where your bracelet once sat every day while you lived in Thornwood, he gently taps at your pulse point and smiles at you, almost feeling your stress flowing through your body as you stand amongst the various flowers. “You what? Seriously, tell me. I’m not going to run to the prince and tell him. I don’t even know what he looks like. I’ve only heard stories.” 

You had seen Jihoon look at Mingyu as he had walked in, but clearly they hadn’t been introduced; you’d have to fix that at some point. Mingyu was so important to you, and Jihoon was and would remain important. There was no ending marriage for someone like you. This was your one and only chance, and it terrified you to look at the person who you thought you were going to be spending that chance with, seeing the kindness in his eyes that you so rarely got from Jihoon. 

“I feel like a prisoner sometimes.” Grimacing, you whine and tug your wrist from Mingyu, almost hating that he’s touching you when you feel so gross about your own words. You shouldn’t feel that way about the people who were giving you so much and giving your kingdom even more. They were saving your people and they hadn’t truly done anything wrong to you. It was more about how you felt, about how your heart felt. “I’m awful.” 

“Stop, no, you not. You aren’t happy, Y/N. I could tell the moment I laid eyes on you.” Sliding his hands into yours, Mingyu turns you towards him and leans down to make you meet his eyes, watching you pout at him still. "Dove, you want me to steal you? I’ll do it. I’ll run away with you in a heartbeat.” 

It was a cute joke and a sweet dream. Laughing under your breath, you glance away from Mingyu even as your reaction makes his smile falter. He knew you wouldn’t accept it. You were a child of responsibility and duty. This marriage was your duty and you wouldn’t run away from it, no matter how much Mingyu tried to convince you otherwise. He wished with all of his heart that he had made you a ring instead of a bracelet and he wished even more right now that you were still wearing the bracelet. 

“Well, the offer stands. Forever.” Lifting your hand slightly to look at your ring, Mingyu tries to judge it harshly but even he has to admit its fitting for your beauty. At least Jihoon had done that right, even if he wasn’t keeping you happy. “I wish—it’s stupid of me, but I wish you were wearing your bracelet. I’m sure the prince won’t allow it though.” 

The mention of your bracelet causes even the slightest smile on your lips to fade quickly as you think about the shards of gold sitting on your vanity. Lowering your eyes to the ground, you shake your head and lick your lips before trying to think of the best lie you can, not wanting to hurt Mingyu anymore than you have to. “I—no. I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” 

Shivering in the cold, Jihoon narrows his eyes as he watches you move deeper into the garden on another man’s arm. Jihoon trusted you. There wasn’t really any reason for him to be concerned until this Kim Mingyu had shown up at the palace. The man hadn’t even been on his radar until Wonwoo had found him and let him know that you and Mingyu had decided to walk alone. That on its own didn’t have Jihoon where he was now, casually keeping his distance as he listened to you laugh softly at the man’s words and seemingly swoon over him; it was more how he was looking at you. 

You seemed oblivious to it while not immune to Mingyu’s charm. That wasn’t your fault; you were a woman whose betrothed had been pushing her away for months, and now a man you had known for years was showing you kindness and interest. The entire display was enough to make Jihoon’s stomach twist with something he wasn’t used to feeling on his own without the beast provoking it: jealousy. 

“No—I, Y/N… I completely understand. It really wouldn’t be. I just miss seeing it on your arm, though—” Laughing softly, Mingyu guides you by your wrist towards one of the concrete benches to sit down so he can do the same next to you, not realizing that Jihoon is watching so closely from the shadows. “It’s nothing compared to how pretty you are. It’s really wasn’t up to par with what I can make now. I’ve been practicing; in fact, I made you something. You know, as a wedding gift.” 

As always, Mingyu has your heart racing and your face on fire with his compliments. Shaking your head, you try to argue with him, but at the mention of a gift, you whine his name and draw your shoulders up towards your cheeks in an attempt to hide from his attention. 

“Now, why are you doing that? It’s nothing big, just a little thing, Dove. Here…”

Clenching his fist at his side, Jihoon watches Mingyu take the small bag from his jacket as he feels the hair at the back of his neck stand up much like the hackles of an animal sensing danger. He didn’t like this man. Mingyu didn’t know boundaries. Where did he get off calling you Dove and giving you gifts days before you were getting married? You were Jihoon's... Taking a deep breath and letting it out under his breath, it comes out more of a growl than a breath as he watches you take the necklace from the pouch. You liked it. Your heart was racing. Jihoon could hear it from here—the beast could hear it. It pissed Jihoon off just as much as it pissed off the beast. 

“Oh my god, Mingyu. It’s gorgeous. You really have gotten so good at this.” Tracing the golden bird in your palm, you frown slightly, feeling a pang of guilt over how much you like the necklace. You shouldn’t accept it, and yet it feels like a piece of home to replace the bracelet that Jihoon had ruined and taken from you. Taking a deep breath, you hold it for a second before nodding and letting it out sharply, making up your mind. You’d accept it and wear it. Jihoon didn’t have to know. “Will you put it on for me?” 

You were too naive, and it made Jihoon want to be sick as Mingyu grinned, taking the necklace from you to do as you asked. Of course he would put the necklace on for you. It didn’t mean the same thing to Mingyu as it did to you, but how could you know that? You were just a stupid little girl with her head in the clouds while Jihoon could read all the signs that Mingyu was throwing at you. 

“So beautiful and it looks perfect on you, Y/N.” Trailing his fingers along your neck even after he’s clasped the necklace, Mingyu leans his head around to look at you, watching you smile at his compliment. You were perfect and somehow you looked even more perfect with that necklace on. “Promise you’ll try to wear it whenever you can? Remember me just a little bit, even when you’re a fancy queen?” 

Leaning back slightly as you laugh, you roll your eyes to Mingyu’s teasing, trying to tell him you’d try only to stop laughing or smiling at all when he presses his lips to your cheek closer to your jaw. “I—yes. I—we should go inside, Mingyu.” 

The kiss was enough to make Jihoon move, his hands now securely in his pockets as he put on a fake friendly face, moving through the garden as if searching for you. “Oh, there you are, mon ange. That’s a pretty necklace.” Lifting his brow, Jihoon lets out a breath through his nose, meeting Mingyu’s eyes as he still speaks to you, watching you shift to sit on your own away from Mingyu. “Who’s this?” 

You hadn’t expected Jihoon to look for you. He never really had before and he had never, to your knowledge, called you anything other than your name or your title. Why was he calling you angel now? Putting your hand over the necklace in question, you feel your heart attempting to beat out of your chest as Mingyu smiles and half smirks up at Jihoon realizing who he is. “I—thank you. This is Kim Mingyu. He’s—” 

“Monseigneur, I presume? Kim Mingyu, Duke of Leressair. I’m an old friend—” 

“I see and you presume correctly, Monsieur.” Turning his attention from Mingyu, Jihoon presses his lips together before offering you his hand, waiting for you to take it. “We should prepare for dinner. Allow our guests time to do the same. I have something I want to speak to you about anyway.” 

Jihoon’s eyes never leave you, even as you seem to struggle with your decision. Finally watching you put your hand in his, his lips pull up into something that resembles the half smirk that Mingyu had given him before he takes a step back, helping you to your feet. “We will see you at dinner, Monsieur. Say goodbye, darling.” 

Between the feeling of Jihoon’s hand on yours and his intense gaze, you feel almost faint. This was different from what you were used to. You had never seen him act like this before, almost possessive over you—was that what this was? A show of dominance? Glancing back over your shoulder as Jihoon guides you away from Mingyu, you furrow your brows and whisper your goodbye to your friend as he offers you a soft smile and a nod. 

“I’ll see you at dinner, Y/N.” 

Once inside the palace, the feeling of Jihoon’s hand around yours causes your anxiety to spike even higher. You find your mind racing as he leads you silently down the hall towards your rooms before finally stopping to push the door open and leading you inside and dropping your hand. Glancing around the room, you avoid his eyes and move towards one of your sofas when he finally speaks, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Don’t go anywhere with him alone again, and I—” Struggling with what he knows he wants to say and what he has to say, Jihoon moves closer to you, carefully touching your arms, feeling you jump slightly. You were afraid of him. That was good and yet it still broke his heart. “You can’t wear this. Do you know how it would look?” Unable to see how your composure breaks, Jihoon carefully undoes your necklace, bringing the delicate chain into his hand along with the dove charm, leaving your neck bare. 

Twice now he had taken home away from you. Tears slowly slide down your cheeks as you watch Jihoon move towards your vanity to lay down the necklace near the broken bracelet. You watch as he takes in a deep breath, picking up a piece of gold furrowing his brows at it, though you don’t know what he is thinking; it just serves to anger you more. “Could you leave, please?” 

He deserved that. Your anger and the contempt in your voice. Gently putting the broken piece of the bracelet back with the others, Jihoon sighs and glances over his shoulder at you, seeing the tears drip from your face. Was this possibly worse than killing you? He hated both situations, but he also hated seeing that man’s hands on you and his lips against your skin. “No, not yet. I—” 

“Why not? There’s nothing to say or do, Jihoon. I just—please leave me alone.” 

The room seems too small as you close your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself, knowing that Jihoon is watching you so closely. You listen between your sobs to hear him leave the room but it never happens; instead, you open your eyes to find him sitting on the arm of your sofa, his eyes on his hands as he turns the ring on his index finger, slowly waiting for you to calm down. 

“Do you hate me?” 

Another valid question for you to ask and yet again it broke Jihoon’s heart. You were leaving jagged pieces in his heart with almost every word and all Jihoon could do was shake his head and hope for a way to make this better. “Of course not. Y/N, I—we are getting married; how could I hate you?” 

“Marriage and your ability to care about someone don’t go hand in hand, Jihoon. You could hate me and tolerate me as your wife.” Wiping your cheeks free of tears even as more fall, you move past him, feeling his eyes follow you. “As long as I can stand by your side as a decent queen and provide an heir, I’ve met my purpose. I just need to keep my mouth shut and my legs open, right? I’ve been told it enough tim—”

“Jesus, fucking Christ, Y/N! Who told you that? It wasn’t me.” Moving to his feet, Jihoon lifts his hands as you seem to recoil at his raised voice. He didn’t want to scare you again, but you were spiraling and going off on a tangent once again. “I have never once said—” 

“You told me to shut my mouth the night of our engagement party.” 

Jihoon’s brows furrow, his words dying in his mouth before he’s finished when you speak over him. He barely remembered that night at the party. He had made it out of the palace and off the grounds before shifting; he remembered more of what had happened in the forest and how the beast had killed every animal in its path. “What? I don’t—” 

“‘Shut your mouth, Y/N and obey me.’ You said that you put the ring on my finger and that I would obey you. Is that what you want from me now, Jihoon? Because that’s what everyone else seems to think I should do.” Looking down at the ring on your finger, you furrow your brows at it, having grown to hate it. “Provide you children and obey you, day in and day out. Even if you yell at me and tell me to lock myself in my rooms for the rest of my fucking life.” Sniffing back tears hard, you defiantly meet Jihoon’s eyes even as you see the shock and pain behind them as you speak. “I hope I never give you a child.” 

While he wasn’t going to say it to you now, Jihoon hoped the same. He was terrified that he would put something like himself inside of you. Not only would he curse another person by them being born like him, but he’d put that thing inside of you. But it wasn’t the fact that he agreed with you that it hurt Jihoon, but that you’d say it out of anger. You hated him that much. “Perhaps you won’t. Time will tell, won’t it?” Running his fingers through his hair, Jihoon shakes his head and glances towards your window, knowing it was getting closer to dinner time. He wanted dinner over and done with as soon as possible. Everyone tucked away safely in their beds. “Everything I do, I do it for you.” 

Wrapping your arms around you at Jihoon’s words, you tilt your head, feeling a pang of resentment towards the man in front of you. “So you say so very often with no explanation. Please… leave.” Your eyes follow Jihoon as he stands and moves towards you, stopping by your side to look at you, though you turn your head away, not wanting to look at him. You only feel his hand take yours and feel his lips brush over your knuckles as always before you head the door open and close to your room, leaving you alone. 

9

"Oh, terribly so. Until she was 10 years old, I believe.” 

Hiding your face with your hands, you whine as your father tells yet another story to embarrass you hearing Jihoon’s mother coo at how adorable you are. Across the table from you, Mingyu grins at your reaction, using his napkin to wipe his lips as he furrows his brows and nods along. 

“She’s still afraid of storms, Your Majesty. She may have hid it well, but up to the day she left for this—" Choosing his words wisely, Mingyu nods at the Queen, shooting her a bright smile. “Beautiful kingdom, she would tremble and simply shut down at the first rumble of thunder. I’m sure it hasn’t changed. You would have to wrap her up in a blanket and keep her sheltered until it passed or she’d suffer too much.” 

Mingyu was sharing too much. Shifting a bit uncomfortable in your chair, you reach for your wine once again when Jihoon takes it from you, taking a sip of his own and then offering it to you as he hums in appreciation. 

“Mm, Monsieur Mingyu is right. I found my darling Y/N during the most recent storm, after—” Furrowing his brows, Jihoon clears his throat and chooses not to talk about his father, instead he smiles and shakes his head, looking over at you. “Anyway, she made it through just fine with someone simply by her side. She’s much stronger than some give her credit for.” 

You didn’t need Jihoon to stick up for you. You couldn’t shake the feeling of him trying just a little too hard, asserting his dominance a bit too much. By the end of the dinner, you find yourself feeling drained between his need to hover and Mingyu’s need to meet him at every level. At the beginning of the afternoon you hadn’t noticed it, their preening, but it had become all too clear by dessert as you hoped and prayed for dinner to come to an end. 

Jihoon wanted nothing more than to walk you to your room for the night. He had watched you stare at your cake, your fork slicing off thin bits that you never ate until most of it lay in a pile on your plate while others laughed and drank around the table out of celebration. They were all distracted; well, most of them. He had noticed Mingyu watching you as well. He knew that the other man had realized how distracted you were and even now, as the dinner was wrapping up, he was lingering. 

“Y/N…” 

“Mon ange.” 

The two voices pull your attention from your destroyed dessert and up to where Jihoon stands to your right and Mingyu just a bit further to your left. When had everyone else left? Were you that distracted? Dropping your fork, you mutter your apologies, allowing the servant to take the plates from in front of you, meeting her worried look before you start to slide your chair back, feeling Jihoon ease it from you, making it easier to stand up. 

“Are you alright? I—perhaps we could take a walk?” 

Mingyu was being bold and right in front of Jihoon. You could feel the heat from Jihoon’s body as he steps closer to you, meeting the larger man’s eyes over your shoulder. Before he is able to speak, you remember what Jihoon said in your room, and you shake your head and offer Mingyu a sad, genuine smile. “I’m so tired. Rain check? I just want to go to bed.” 

“I’ll get you to your room, Y/N.”

The tension between you and Jihoon was evident even as he guided you out of the dining hall and deeper into the palace with his hand on your lower back. He felt too warm, too close. You were still angry at him and you didn’t want him to walk you anywhere. 

“I can make it the rest of the way myself.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jihoon sighs your name under his breath, grabbing your arm at your elbow when you try to walk away from him. This wasn’t the time to be frustrating him. It was too dark outside and though he could feel that he might not shift tonight, he was close. The beast was right under his skin, causing his emotions to be heightened. “I said I’d get you to your room. So, please... stop acting like this. Are you just trying to get away from me so you can run back to your friend?” The moment the words leave Jihoon’s mouth, he feels regret wash over him, especially when he sees the look on your face. “Shit, I—no, wait. I’m sorry, Y/N!” 

With Jihoon, he really did take one step forward and two steps back. With those words spoken aloud, he took five massive steps back and he might as well have punched you in the stomach. Tugging your arm free from his grip, feeling his fingers try to grip you tightly, possibly leaving a bruise, you find yourself not caring as you sniff back your tears and start walking quickly away from him as he tries to apologize. “Why? Why are you sorry? Because you said it, or because you think I—” Grimacing, unable to even say the words, you shake your head and throw up your hands out of anger. 

Jihoon finds himself walking behind you, his fingers working through his hair out of nerves as he tries to keep up and think of how to fix this. “No! Wait—I, yes! I’m sorry because I said it! I didn’t mean it!” Stopping quickly when he reaches your door to watch it be slammed in his face, Jihoon lets out a loud, frustrated breath as he leans his forehead against it and presses his palms next to his head. “I know you wouldn’t! Please let me in and talk to me. Don’t—come on! We are getting married in a day!” 

Resting your head back against the door, you feel fresh tears stream down your cheeks and along your neck as Jihoon knocks on your door, begging you to speak to him and to forgive him. You knew when you were getting married and you were beginning to wonder if you should take Mingyu’s proposal up and run away with him. As quickly as the thought passes through your mind, a wave of guilt rushes through you, pain hitting your chest and stomach and causing you to sob loud enough that Jihoon’s knocks stop. You wonder if he has left, but his soft voice a moment later tells you that he hasn’t. 

“Y/N… I hate myself for this. For—for making you feel like this. I’m a curse to everyone around me. D-do you—” Sliding down the door, Jihoon sits on the floor against it, knocking his head back against the wood before reaching up to rest his head in his hands. “If you want to leave me, I’d let you. I would tell them you—I don’t know. I’d make up something, if that’s what you want.” 

Silence. You aren’t even listening to him. Jihoon feels like a fool for even trying to speak to you. You clearly hate him more than anyone else in the world, but then that feels impossible because no one could hate him more than himself. Sitting in his own self-loathing, Jihoon pushes his thumb against his palm hard, wondering if he should give up when he hears the lock of your door turn and feels the surface behind him shift, leaving him sitting on his own as he looks up at you from the floor. 

“Y/N…” 

Taking a step back, you let Jihoon get to his feet, his hands quickly trying to wipe the dust from his pants so that he looks somewhat more presentable before he moves into the room once you let him. 

“We have a duty, Jihoon.” 

"No, I know th—” 

“Let me speak.” No other woman had ever spoken to Jihoon like you did or made him feel this way. You commanded the space, even with tears drying on your cheeks and a look of heartbreak in your eyes. “I came here for Thornwood and I’m not a coward. I said I would marry you and that’s what I intend on doing, but things have to change.”

Change terrified Jihoon. Swallowing hard, he tilts his head, watching you appraise him and his reaction. He wanted to give into you so easily and give you everything you wanted, but was it that easy? The beast would kill you the first chance it got. “Y/N…” 

“Things have to change, Jihoon! I’m not your prisoner. I’m not a doll that you can lock away in some room and play with when you see fit. I’m going to be the queen.” 

You were right; he knew that. Grimacing even as he nodded, Jihoon watches your expression soften. He wasn’t completely giving into this; there would still need to be some safe guards put up, but perhaps he could allow some changes for your happiness. “Okay, but we have to compromise. I still don’t want you going out at night, ever.” 

It takes everything in you not to lash out at Jihoon; it’s only the look in his eye—a genuine look of concern for you—that makes you even consider that he’s not just trying to keep some power over you. “I—fine. I don’t get it, but I won’t go outside after dark.” 

Relief washes over Jihoon and he nods along with your words, taking a step closer to you, happy when you don’t instantly move away from him. “There are things in the dark that you don’t understand, Y/N. I don’t want you hurt, or worse. So that’s the only thing I ask for right now.” 

To you, it sounded like ghost stories and fairy tales once again getting the best of the imaginations of the residents of Aetherial Grove; you just hadn’t expected it to be their prince who fell for them. You didn’t expect those stories to make him pale and to look sick to his stomach as he reached for your hands, wanting you close. “I—okay. They’re just stories, Jihoon, but I’ll stay inside at night. I said I would. Stop worrying so much. We have enough to worry about besides ghost stories.” 

Ghosts? If only that were the worst of Jihoon’s troubles. He had never seen a ghost in his life. He didn’t question their existence. Perhaps they did exist and wandered another realm, but in his world he had bigger things to worry about. Offering you a smile, Jihoon nods and lifts your hands bringing them to his lips kissing both of your hands and resting his lips against your left for a moment longer before taking a step back. “You’re right, darling.” 

10

You had always been told that dream weddings were made for princesses. So why was it on your own wedding day that you didn’t feel like it was your own wedding? You were in your dress, your flowers in your hand, as you stood next to your father in front of the large church doors, listening to the beautiful music, but it was as if you were watching someone else get married. 

“Ready, honey?” 

Had you said yes? You couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter. You were putting on a smile and avoiding the eyes of everyone as you walked down the aisle, just attempting not to trip. One, two, three, four, five, six—by the time you reached the front of the church, you had counted 79 flower petals that had been dropped by one of your youngest cousins. They were very pretty petals. What did petals lining a wedding aisle mean again? Luck? Fertility? Transformation? A bond between families? 

“My wife and I.” 

Your father was speaking and offering your hand to someone else. You were getting married. Lifting your eyes, you meet Jihoon’s feeling, and your heart starts to beat frantically as it all seems to set in for you. The air settles around you and his hands on yours ground you bringing you back to reality. 

“You okay?” 

What did he want you to say? You could barely find words to speak so instead you smile and nod, watching him do the same as the priest continues the ceremony. You find yourself transfixed on the man in front of you, every piece of hair in place, his handsome smile, and his beautiful brown eyes. 

“Yes, I do.” 

He does? What does he—- 

“Madame Y/N Y/L/N of Thornwood, do you take this man, Monseigneur Lee Jihoon, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

The room had become deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop as they waited for your answer and all you could truly hear was your heart and unsteady breath as Jihoon kept his eyes on you. The words sit on the tip of your tongue until Jihoon’s fingers gently squeeze yours, giving you the confidence you need to continue and gaining a happy whispered cheer from the audience watching. 

“Ye—yes, I do.” 

Blowing out a breath, playfully. Jihoon smiles when you finally do speak, feeling the tension release from your fingers. You were nervous and that was making him even more nervous. You seemed like you were in another world until he finally brought you back and now that he had you and the priest was delivering the last of his lines, Jihoon felt like he could either throw up or like his chest could explode from being overwhelmed. 

“I now pronounce you man and wife. Monseigneur, you may kiss your bride.” 

His bride. His. He had never kissed you before, no more than the back of your knuckles but that hadn’t meant that he hadn’t thought about it or dreamt of it. Swallowing hard, Jihoon nods and takes one hand from yours to cup your jaw gingerly as he leans forward, his lips resting mere centimeters from yours, letting you decide to do the rest. 

Why had he stopped? Whining under your breath, feeling Jihoon’s breath against your lips, you furrow your brows and close the distance, pressing your lips against his for the first time hearing the audience burst into a loud cheer seeing the first kiss shared by a husband and wife. You had shared a kiss with Mingyu before; it had been small, just his lips brushing against yours before you had pulled away, but this was different. You could feel Jihoon smile against your lips. You could almost taste him before he pulled away, leaving you breathless and stunned at the alter next to him. 

It shouldn’t surprise you or Jihoon that the rest of the reception would be a whirlwind of well wishes and unsolicited advice. You find that once again your only saving grace is the man standing beside you, his hand linked with yours and his thumb rubbing small circles on the inside of your wrist as he carries most of the conversations. 

“Mm, no. We won’t be going anywhere. We have the coronation set for the middle of next week and there is so much to be done here. I will enjoy my bride at home. I’m hoping to spend as much time with her as possible.” 

You find yourself wondering how much of Jihoon’s words are true. Would he spend extra time with you? What would tonight be like? The idea of your wedding night has your stomach in knots and Jihoon tugging you tighter to his side, feeling your fingers closing around his. 

“I—mm, no, thank you. We’re fine. Really, we won’t travel often. If Y/N wants to travel—” 

Why wouldn’t Jihoon travel? That had come up time and time again. He was ready to send you back home to visit your parents. You two would be going nowhere after your wedding and now he was offering to let you travel without him? Furrowing your brows, you look up at your husband finally meeting his eyes, making him laugh a bit awkwardly and excuse you both as he grabs two glasses of champagne, leading you towards one of the windows, letting you rest against the sill. 

“This is exhausting. Are you alright?” 

Gladly accepting the glass, you hum between sips before tilting your head and looking out over the crowd that was luckily getting smaller as the afternoon crept by. “Fine. Ready to be alone. This is just overwhelming.” 

Nodding into his own glass, Jihoon lets his eyes move around the room before they land on Mingyu, who nods in acknowledgement before looking away. He was ready for everyone to leave as well, ready for them to go back to where they belonged—especially Kim Mingyu. “It’ll be done soon and you can head to bed.” 

Pausing mid-drink, you glance up at Jihoon before lowering your glass. "Oh, and should I—” Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, turning your head away, feeling awkward and uncertain about how to continue without sounding desperate. “Should I expect anyone to join me?” 

Jihoon had taken a drink and swallowed half of it when you finally got your words out. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t that. He hadn’t meant to react the way he had, but being caught off guard and feeling the champagne take a sudden wrong turn, Jihoon finds himself coughing as he tries to calm himself down and avoid your eyes and others as they look at him concerned. “I’m fine… I—” Tilting his head and clearing his throat, Jihoon holds up his hand, keeping others from approaching him or you as he repeats that he doesn’t need help. “I’m fine, I promise.” 

“Was my question that shocking?” 

Jihoon watches your lips quiver slightly, only for you to hide your emotions by taking a sip of the drink in your hand. “No—I, yes. I won’t lie, yes, but also it shouldn’t have been. Y/N, I’m not meaning to upset you.” 

Shaking your head, you clear your throat, feeling your cheeks flair with warmth from embarrassment. You were such a fool for even considering that Jihoon would come to your room or want you like that even if you were his wife. “I’m not upset. I’m tired. I’m going to go ahead and call it an evening. Say goodbye to the guests, Jihoon.” Stepping away from him, you meet his eyes, feeling his fingers trail over yours. “And get a wonderful night’s sleep.” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Jihoon groans in frustration at you and mostly himself as the door closes behind you, leaving him alone with the guests in the dining hall at the wedding reception. He had once again messed up and was left to clean up the mess. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to see you or be with you, but tonight was going to be a bad night. 

Some nights Jihoon couldn’t tell when he was going to shift, and others like tonight he could feel it from a mile away. Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire and the rumbling in his ears had been loud from the moment he had gotten up. He had barely made it through the wedding on sheer will, but now you had left him to the lions, and one in particular looked overly amused. 

Working his way through the remaining guests, bidding them a goodnight and explaining you had needed to go lay down with a headache, Jihoon felt his own headache growing with every single lie he told. It wasn’t until Mingyu had given him one more smirk and sipped at his whiskey that Jihoon cracked. “Something on your mind, Mingyu?” 

“Of course not, Monseigneur. Just awaiting my turn to give my well wishes to the beautiful couple before I retire for the night, but—oh, where is your bride, Monseigneur?” 

He was playing with fire and clearly drunk. Laughing under his breath, Jihoon nods and wipes his finger under his nose, moving closer to Mingyu. He could feel a subtle shift in the air, not realizing his eyes had already shifted in color from brown to gold. “Waiting for me in bed, like a good wife. Where she belongs.” 

Mingyu’s smile falters not only at Jihoon’s words but also at the change in his tone and the difference in Jihoon’s eye color. “Yeah, that so? She didn’t seem very happy earlier. So I figured you wouldn’t be satisfying her on her wedding night. Or at least that’s what her face was saying. I know her pretty well, you see.” 

Scoffing, Jihoon digs his nails into his palm, taking a step towards Mingyu, who doesn’t budge. “Do you know her pretty well? How well? Careful with your next words...” 

He had no reason to be afraid of Jihoon, and yet the air around Jihoon was causing Mingyu’s hair to stand on end. He could feel his heart rate starting to rise as he realized that the only people left in the room beside himself and Jihoon were servants. “I—yeah, I know—” 

“Monseigneur! It’s time for a night walk.” 

Time had gotten away from Soonyoung during the festivities. He hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten until he had seen Jihoon backing the larger man against a wall and he knew that could only mean one thing: Jihoon was shifting. “Apologies for taking away the monseigneur, but routines. Have a goodnight, Monsieur.” 

Left speechless, Mingyu is only able to take a full breath once Jihoon is ushered away from him and out the doors. “What the fuck—” His heart was slowly starting to calm down and the sense of danger seemed to dissipate the longer that he was away from Jihoon. There was something wrong with everything that had just happened. He was twice the size of Jihoon in most ways and yet the man had him almost trembling for a moment and quickly sobering up. Now the prince was going for a night walk? Where? You weren’t allowed to go out at night. That was one of the things you had told Mingyu. Now he was even more curious as to why. 

Guiding Jihoon towards the gates, Soonyoung grimaces, hearing the sounds of flesh starting to rip. This was closer than he wanted to be to a shift. It was dangerous and he had scars that he already bore from Jihoon and close calls. 

“Get away from me!” 

Trembling from the pain and fear of shifting, Jihoon growls out the words, glancing back at Soonyoung as he slams the gates shut in front of him, sealing him out for the night. The painful groaning roar that escapes Jihoon next almost breaks Soonyoung’s heart as he turns on his heels and runs back towards the palace, not seeing Mingyu lingering in the shadows near the gates watching Jihoon stumble and fall as he shifts into the beast. 

“Fuck—” There aren’t words to explain what Mingyu feels or the terror for you that runs through him as he watches the bear’s claws dig into the dirt as it runs for the forest snarling. There was no way he was going to let you stay here with that thing. He’d kill it before he’d let it hurt you. Without much thought, Mingyu heads back towards the palace and to his room to grab his knife before sneaking back out towards the forest in search of Jihoon, determined that only one of them would come back for you in the morning. 

11

The night had been too long and filled with strange and horrible dreams as you tossed and turned in your bed. You had hoped and prayed that Jihoon had been lying to you and that he would show up at your door, but instead you found yourself on your wedding night alone. You had been half tempted to go find Mingyu, but after sending Jieun to find him, she only found his room empty, confusing you more. 

You woke the next morning to terrified and frantic yelling that made your stomach twist instantly with nausea before your feet ever hit the floor. What was wrong? Why would anyone be that upset after the day of your wedding? 

Not caring about putting on more than a robe, you run through the halls and towards the commotion only to stop when Wonwoo wraps his arms around your waist, urging for you to wait. “No! What’s wrong? Let me go!” Tugging free from his grasp, you manage to move through the wall of people only to fall to your knees at the sight in front of you. 

When you hear the scream, you aren’t aware that it’s coming from you until your mother is holding you to her chest and rocking you back and forth, trying to calm you down. The sound is so gut wrenching and devastating that you can’t believe that you are making it, but the sight of Mingyu bloody and clinging for life in front of you was enough to make you learn that you could make such a sound. 

“He’s alive, but—barely. Jihoon found him in the forest this morning and brought him back. If it wasn’t for him...” 

Blinking through your tears, you search for Jihoon, who mutters something you can’t hear to Soonyoung before he disappears from your sight down the hall once again, leaving you essentially alone. You are left clinging to your mother as you watch the servants move Mingyu into another room where doctors begin their work to save your friend. 

Your sense of time gets lost as you sit outside of the room listening to the hushed voices of the doctors and the clanking of their tools. It’s only when someone kneels in front of you, putting a plate of food on your lap, that you seem to focus on the face in front of you, realizing that it’s Jihoon. Glancing down at the plate, you grimace and look away from it, feeling Jihoon’s palm against your cheek, turning your head back towards him. 

“You have to eat. You’ve been sitting here all day. It’s doing him no good.” Picking up the fork from the plate, Jihoon cuts into a piece of meat, lifting it for you and watching you furrow your brows as he tries to feed you. “Eat, please? How is not eating going to help the doctors save him?” 

The smell of the meat wasn’t appetizing. Nothing about the food in front of you made you want to eat it, but it was more Jihoon urging you to take a bite that had you leaning forward and accepting it. Chewing slowly, you lean your head back against the wall as he sighs, moving to sit in front of you, crossing his legs, and putting the plate in his own lap so he can gather more of the food waiting for you to finish the first bite. 

“Y/N—” 

“Where did you find him? Why were you outside, Jihoon?” 

Closing his eyes, Jihoon rests the fork on the plate and takes a deep breath to your questions as you cut him off before he can speak again. There was the truth and then there was what he and Soonyoung had come up with. Jihoon wasn’t sure which he was ready to tell you or if he was ready to tell you anything. 

He could remember Mingyu trying to attack him—the beast—in the forest. He could still see the anger on the man’s face as he tried to do anything with the useless knife in his hand, but like many others before him, Mingyu had found himself powerless against the beast. The thought of it made Jihoon feel sick to his stomach as he smelled the copper in the air even now as the doctors worked to repair what he had done to Mingyu. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t killed him. Maybe it was seeing your face and the pain in it when he had taken the necklace from your neck, but he had managed to run away from Mingyu and then find him barely breathing once he was human again. 

“Please don’t do this to me.” 

Jihoon heard your tears before he saw them. He heard the desperation and despair in your voice as you sobbed, drawing his eyes back up to you. It had broken his heart before to see you upset but now you were his wife. It was his duty more than ever to take care of you and he was already fucking it up. “I—he was attacked by a mon—” 

“The monseigneur was out for a morning walk and heard him.” 

Gritting his teeth to Wonwoo’s voice, Jihoon lowers his head again and nods along with the story that he and Soonyoung had come up with. Of course others in the palace would know the story by now, and the steward would want to protect him—especially from himself. Jihoon wants to explain it all to you and make you understand, but the look on Wonwoo’s face makes him stay silent as you stare up at the tall man. 

“Do we know what attacked him?” Jihoon had started to say something. You could tell that he was keeping something else from you, that perhaps he had started to open up and then he was once again silenced. This had happened before—the same song and dance, but this was different for you. Your best friend was laying torn apart on a table fighting for his life and you weren’t just going to accept it and smile. “Jihoon said—”

“The monseigneur is tired, madame. You both are. You aren’t eating properly and the monseigneur is increasingly busy as the coronation approaches.” 

You were starting to hate Wonwoo. He kept secrets worse than Jihoon in some ways. He made you realize that Jihoon was as much, if not more, of a prisoner in this palace than you were. Shaking your head, you turn it away from both Wonwoo and Jihoon listening for the sounds of the doctors as they continue to work. “I want to be alone.” 

“Y/N, I can sit with you. I don’t have—” 

“Very well, madame. Monseigneur, you have a busy day. If you don’t mind to come with me?” 

Biting at his cheek, Jihoon lets his eyes move over your pretty face as fresh tears run down your cheeks untouched. He wanted to fix this, to make you feel better and yet he was once again being pulled away from you. “Fine… Here, please eat a bit more.” Putting the plate next to your leg, Jihoon watches your eyes move to it for a few seconds before you look away again, ignoring what he said. “I’ll check in when I can, darling.” 

You do your best to stay stoic even as the tears run down your face, but when Jihoon’s lips press to the side of your head, you can’t help how your body shakes with grief. You wanted him to stay with you and keep his vows to love and protect you. 

Keeping his eyes on you until it’s impossible to do so, Jihoon crosses his arms and scowls at the ground in front of him, knowing Wonwoo is just a few steps behind him. “This better be important. I should be back there with her.” 

“With all due respect, monseigneur I’m not sure being around madame Y/N is in your best interest when you are in the headspace you are currently in. You might make mistakes and put yourself or the kingdom at risk.” 

Jihoon felt like the air had been forcefully removed from his lungs as he came to a stop in the hallway. There wasn’t anything pressing to take care of; Wonwoo was just trying to keep him quiet. It made sense. He had heard some of what Jihoon had started to tell you, but it didn’t give him the right to dictate what he said or did. 

Even as Jihoon stood there seething, he knew that he was lying to himself. Of course Wonwoo could tell him what to do and how to do it. His allegiance was to the king and to the kingdom. Jihoon wasn’t yet king. Wonwoo was doing what he thought would protect the kingdom, and even Jihoon knew the man was right. If you knew everything about Jihoon, there was no way you would have married him. There was no way that you’d be his queen and there was no way he’d ever even have a chance of having an heir with you. 

“I know you are upset with me, Jihoon. Your father gave me very specific instructions before he passed away. I’m attempting to follow them to the letter. I want you to succeed. Stop attempting to self-sabotage yourself.” Watching Jihoon’s shoulders relax, Wonwoo lets out a breath and takes a step closer to the prince, tilting his head. “She’ll learn everything in time. It doesn’t have to be now and certainly not while he is on an operating table. Think about how she would react learning that—” 

“I get it. I was being weak. Thank you for stopping me, Wonwoo.” 

He was right; Jihoon knew it. You’d hate him. You might even try to do exactly what Mingyu had and he wouldn’t even blame you. 

12

Thorns dug into your feet. Bloody footprints marked every step you made as you ran through the dark forest away from the sounds of heavy breathing and snarls. You were terrified. Every beat of your heart could be felt in your throat as you tried to take in breaths to keep your energy up just enough to stay in front of whatever was chasing you. 

It didn’t seem to matter how hard you ran or what way you turned; you could almost feel the hot breath of it on your neck. Tears streamed down your face as you heard it growl your name; your eyes shut tightly as you begged for your life, only for your body to jerk awake as you hear your name once again. 

“Y/N… dear?” 

You weren’t in the forest and there was nothing chasing you. You were inside the palace but you had been moved from where you last remembered being. Shifting on the sofa, you whine, feeling your mother’s hand brush over your head as you try to sit up, feeling how stiff your body has become from sitting on the floor and sleeping on something that isn’t your bed. 

“Oh, darling. You look so weak. Couldn’t I take you to your bed?” 

Recoiling from her touch, you look around the room and towards the door, seeing that you weren’t moved far. The room where the doctors had been working on Mingyu was just across the hall. “No. Mingyu…” 

Brushing her fingers over your head, your mother nods and purses her lips when you refuse to leave. She knew you would. You were always stubborn and strong-willed. She wondered if your new husband had met this side of you and if he had known this side of you if he would have accepted the cost of your dowry. No doubt you were beautiful and lovely in many ways, but your stubbornness could cause issues in a marriage that your mother worried about. “Mingyu is out of surgery, Y/N. About an hour ago. He’s in his room, resting.” 

He had made it. Pushing her hand away, you sit up fully and try to slide from your mother, only to feel her hand wrap around your arm to stop you. “Mother, please. I want to go see him. I need to see him for myself.” 

“And I understand that, Y/N, but, I—I just, consider how this looks? I know that you two were close back home. Perhaps too close. Don’t make your husband regret his hospitality.” 

Shrugging her hand from your arm, you stand, giving her a look of contempt as she returns the look with more concern underlying. “I am checking on my friend. If Jihoon wants to be upset about that, so be it.” 

It was late afternoon now. You could feel the weight of the day resting on your shoulders as you made your way through the palace and towards Mingyu’s room. You knew your mother wasn’t wrong, but you hadn’t been lying. To you, there was nothing about what you were doing that was wrong. You had sat outside of the room where he had been in surgery most of the day until someone had moved you, so why would it be a shock to anyone that you would want to see him once he was out? 

Carefully pushing open his door, you glance around the dimly lit room as a frown quickly settles on your lips when you see Mingyu in his bed with the covers tucked under his arms. Bandages cover his chest and one of his shoulders, blood seeping through even as he sleeps with his brows furrowed so deeply. It broke you to see the man you knew to be so strong, so completely broken in front of you. 

You don’t worry about shutting the door all the way; instead, you move towards the bed and take Mingyu’s hand in yours, being careful not to jostle him in any way as new tears gather in your eyes and quickly fall on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I should have never asked you to come. You’d be safe and back home. I—” The words get caught in your throat on a sob as Mingyu’s nose wrinkles and he sighs in his sleep, giving you the first real sign that he is possibly going to be okay. 

Jihoon had finally found time to look for you again. He had found you sleeping against the wall after forcing himself to participate in a few meetings and decided to move you to the sofa, but now you weren’t there. He knew that Mingyu’s surgery had gone well; he was projected to recover to some degree, resembling being completely healed in a few months. Jihoon had been told that it was even possible that he would be well enough to travel in a week if his body took over healing as it should. 

Now Jihoon found himself in search of you, already knowing where you would be. He couldn’t blame you for wanting to see Mingyu. Even with as much as it made his chest feel heavy, he knew he would let you stay with him for as long as you wanted if that made you happy. Jihoon had done enough to disappoint you and to ruin your life in ways that you didn’t even understand yet. 

Hearing your sobs, Jihoon pauses outside of Mingyu’s door and looks down at the floor, watching the light shift on the floor in front of him through the cracked door. He hated that he was getting used to the sound of you crying. That wasn’t something anyone should grow accustomed to. 

“I hate this so much. Why were you even outside? You are so stupid, Mingyu.” You didn’t want to blame Mingyu or Jihoon for this. You wanted to blame whatever it was that attacked Mingyu and you wanted to blame yourself. “I’m so stupid.” 

"No, you aren’t.” 

You knew that Mingyu hadn’t spoken. The most he had done was sigh and shift some in his sleep. Furrowing your brows, you wipe your cheeks and turn towards the door, watching as Jihoon moves further into the room with a frown on his face. Perhaps your mother had been right. You shouldn’t have visited Mingyu; it had upset Jihoon. Whispering his name, you slide your hand from Mingyu’s and sniff back your tears, uncertain what to do as Jihoon gets closer, his eyes moving to the bed and over Mingyu before they move back to you. 

“I’m not here to rush you or make you leave, Y/N. I just—I was coming to check on you. You weren’t where I left you.” 

Letting out the breath you hadn’t realized you were even holding, you nod and settle back by Mingyu’s side, sliding your hand back into his as Jihoon wanders in the room near you. He had been the one to move you to the couch. You weren’t sure how that hadn’t dawned on you earlier. It makes sense. He had tried to feed you earlier; of course he’d want you somewhere at least a bit more comfortable. “I’m sorry, Jihoon.” 

“You don’t owe me anything. I wish you’d eat and rest, of course, but I won’t force it.” Quickly meeting your eyes before he moves to the window to look out over the courtyard as the sun starts to set, Jihoon takes a slow, deep breath and lets it out. “If—if you’d let me, I will get you something and bring it here even. Or if you will finally lay down, I’ll bring it to your room, or have it brought there so you don’t even have to see me.” Glancing over his shoulder at you, Jihoon sees Mingyu and the blood that is starting to stain the sheets draped over him and it’s a reminder that he did that. He’s the one who hurt your best friend. “I—I’m sorry this happened.” 

The way that Jihoon spoke made you feel like the tide was rising and that time was against him and you. It was as if you didn’t say something or save him that you might have to watch him drown as he swam out too far all while you watched from the shore. “It’s not your fault. You brought him back. You saved him—” 

“Y/N!” 

Sitting up straight, when Jihoon raises his voice, panic lacing it, you look from him to Mingyu as he winces in his sleep, causing you and Jihoon to pause until he settles once again. 

“I didn’t—’m sorry, fuck. I—I should just go.” 

The water was rising and you had a choice to make. You whine softly, closing your fingers tighter around Mingyu's. As you watch Jihoon walk towards the door, you suddenly stand up, dropping Mingyu’s hand and reaching for Jihoon's instead. Barely catching his fingers with yours, you once again whine Jihoon’s name. Coming to a stop, his head dropping as you take a step closer and sliding your hand fully into his. 

“I’ll eat in my room, but only if you join me.” You can see the apprehension in Jihoon’s eyes and how he glances towards the window, seeing how dark it’s gotten. “Please, Jihoon.” Wincing at your pleading, he meets your eyes and nods. 

“Okay.” Jihoon found it difficult to tell you no after disappointing you so often and seeing that heartbroken look in your eyes. The darkness terrified him, but there was no way to tell you that he was afraid to spend any time with you while the moon was in the sky. If he told you that he’d have to explain why, and then he would have to explain why Mingyu was laying in this bed still unconscious, so Jihoon didn’t tell you no. Instead, he let you lull him and the beast with your soft smile as he gave into his temptation and brushed his fingers over your cheek, feeling your warm skin under his touch. “I’ll be there soon.” 

You knew exactly why you had doubts about Jihoon keeping his promise to join you for dinner in your room, but as you sat at your window watching the moon rise, you tried not to let that doubt get the best of you. You were doing your very best not to let your mind wander back to Mingyu laying alone in his room covered in bandages and instead you did something you hadn’t done in a long time—you prayed. 

You weren’t even sure who you were praying to. There were many gods, goddesses, and deities in general that people believed in, but with your silent prayer for Mingyu’s recovery and Jihoon’s strength going forward, you send your words to whomever might be listening. You pray for yourself. Your own strength and ability to do what must be done as a wife and queen—that you might be worthy of Jihoon. 

“Are you sure?” 

Not dignifying Soonyoung’s question with an response, Jihoon shakes his head and gives one look to your door before meeting his butler’s eyes. He knew why Soonyoung was concerned. He wasn’t the only one sharing those concerns. Junhui had his own reservations when he was asked to prepare the late dinner. Wonwoo had shared gentle reminders of earlier conversations and his mother had simply given her blessing, hoping that the night might be fruitful. 

Fruitful. Jihoon knew what his mother meant, but how could she even be thinking of something like that right now? He wasn’t trying to bed you. That was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment. In fact, that was the farthest thing from his mind in general. It wasn’t that he didn’t see you in that manner. He’d be a fool to look at you and not lust after you. You were divine in his eyes and now you were his wife. It made it even harder not to give into lingering glances but today you were dealing with the stress of everything that had happened with Mingyu. Jihoon was going to your room to comfort you and to eat. Nothing more. 

The hushed voices and soft knock at your door bring you out of your whispered prayers and right back to the present. Jihoon had kept his promise. Why did that terrify you almost as much as him breaking it? Moving to your feet, you swallow hard, feeling your breath getting caught in your throat before clearing it so that you can finally speak, though it sounds strained. “Co—come in.” 

You had looked exactly the same before he had left you to get dinner ready, and yet you were taking Jihoon’s breath away as he stepped out of Soonyoung’s way, letting him push the tray into the room. Jihoon knew he was staring but at least your attention was taken up as you rushed forward, cooing over Soonyoung and the dinner. God, you really were too good for Jihoon. How he ever got lucky enough for you to end up in Aetherial Grove was a miracle. The idea of it made his stomach twist with anxiety even as butterflies overwhelmed him. He was so scared that he might hurt you in a way he wouldn’t be able to fix. 

“This looks delicious. It’s too much.” Sighing, you whine under your breath and reach for the tray as Soonyoung sighs at you, moving your hand away from it. “I can—” 

“Madame…” 

“Stop calling me that. You call him Jihoon. Do the same for me; call me by my name, please.” 

Lifting his eyes to Jihoon, Soonyoung watches the prince finally move into the room and towards the table as he places the dishes on it for you both to share. 

“If that’s what she wants, I’m okay with it, Soonyoung. We can handle the rest of this. Go rest.” 

The apprehension in Soonyoung’s eyes puzzles you at first. You wonder if he isn’t sure to take what Jihoon is saying seriously or if he isn’t sure if he wants to leave dinner alone without a servant present, but then the man puts on a dazzling smile and you can’t seem to figure out which one it was. You find yourself instead smiling back at him as he bows at the waist and hums softly, ready to excuse himself. 

“Alright. If either of you needs me or anyone else, you know how to get in touch. Goodnight, Y/N. Jihoon.” 

Nodding along with his words, Jihoon doesn’t pay anymore attention to Soonyoung as he leaves the room. His eyes are on you as you stand next to the table and he realizes this is his first dinner alone with you. If the circumstances were different, it might seem intimate or romantic, but tonight Jihoon pushes those thoughts aside and offers you a soft smile before moving to pull out your chair, letting you sit down first. “I’m happy that you decided to eat, Y/N and I—I’m glad you wanted me here.” 

Finding him to be forever the enigma, you smile along with Jihoon’s words, feeling your cheeks heating up. “I’m just glad you accepted. I honestly… Well, I just don’t think I want to be alone right now. I’d rather be with you.” 

Jihoon had been ready to move the last of the plates to the table when you had spoken, but he hadn’t been ready for your words. Letting out a breath, he smiles with his back turned to you, putting the plate back down on the tray to steady himself before trying again and this time moving it with ease to the middle of the table, still avoiding your eyes directly. “Then I—I’ll stay with you. However long you need me to tonight.” 

Two courses into the impromptu dinner, you pout into your wine glass as Jihoon leans back in his chair with his own wine glass resting on his fingers. It’s impossible for you not to admit to yourself that you have been struck with at least a bit of luck when it comes to your marriage. It might not be perfect, but you had seen worse pairings in arranged marriages before. Beautiful women paired with men their father’s age who expected them to be in bed ready for them every night. Handsome men who were stuck with wives who would sneak off with the stable boy not even after a year of marriage and yet you could look at Lee Jihoon for the rest of your life. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have—did I get something on my face?” Shifting in his chair, Jihoon lifts his free hand to rub at his lips, causing you to smile into a laugh that he finds infectious. “What? No, why are you laughing at me? Mon ange…” 

When had he started calling you that? Placing your fingers against your lips, you smile against them and turn your face away from Jihoon, trying to hide how shy he makes you feel. “Jihoon…” 

You were driving him crazy. No other woman had ever made Jihoon feel like this. Perhaps he could chalk it up to never getting the chance to know them, but even that didn’t feel like the answer. It all felt like it was leading up to you. You were made to be his. Some sort of cruel destiny where he might truly meet the love of his life and never fully get to love her the way he wanted to. “What is it?” 

This was insane; clearly you were insane or perhaps you had drank too much wine if the tension in the room had gotten so thick that you were once again looking at Jihoon with desire on your mind. So much had happened in just two days and it would be so selfish of you to attempt to act on your feelings while your best friend lay recovering in a room across the palace—and yet you find yourself staring at Jihoon, wondering if his promise was true. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I just—you are so handsome. It almost breaks my heart.” 

Run away. You should run away and never look back. Jihoon’s brain is screaming at him as he watches you from across the table, your eyes fixed on him in a way he’s never seen before. You didn’t know what you were saying. You were drinking and lost in the moment—or you were simply a woman in a room with her husband after her wedding. 

Letting out a deep breath at your compliment, Jihoon’s lips pull up slightly in a smile before he shakes his head. He wasn’t disagreeing with you, but he knew that there was a deeply ugly part of him that you had seen on more than one occasion and you had yet to meet it fully. He prayed you never would. If he had to confine himself to a cell, he would rather that be his life than you ever suffer that side of him. 

“I never want to break your heart, though I fear I have with my selfishness on many occasions already.” 

“It’s not important, Jiho—” 

“It is, Y/N. I’m sorry for my behavior. I’m incredibly lucky to have such a beautiful wife, and not only that, but a beautiful, caring, and understanding wife who wears her heart on her sleeve. You are stunning inside and out, darling.” 

Once again looking away from Jihoon, you look up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears gathering on your eyes from falling. He wasn’t wrong about some of the things he had said. He had broken your heart many times already, but his words were doing a very good job at patching some of those cracks. 

The moment the first tear slips down your cheek, Jihoon whispers your name and slides from his chair so he can move around the table to kneel on one knee in front of your chair. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so bad at this—at relationships. I’m sorry—” 

You had been kissed twice in your life. Once by Mingyu and then by Jihoon on your wedding day. Out of those two kisses, your wedding kiss had taken your breath away and made you realize that the one you and Mingyu shared had been between kids trying to figure out their way in the world. Your third kiss almost made you forget that you had ever kissed anyone besides Jihoon ever. You knew it was bold of you to kiss him and not let him have that opportunity, but between Jihoon’s words and having him in front of you, the moment had taken you over. 

Wrapping his fingers around your wrist as you rest your hand against his cheek, Jihoon furrows his brows tightly. He hadn’t expected you to kiss him, but he wasn’t going to pull away or push you away. At first he wasn’t sure what to do except return the kiss lightly, but then you sighed so softly and Jihoon’s mind almost exploded, sending a shiver through his body and right to his stomach, causing it to tighten as lust rushes through him. 

He knew that you didn’t know what you were doing to him. There was a chance that you didn’t know what you were doing at all. You were merely following your instincts, and there was no way that Jihoon was going to tell you they were wrong. He was fighting with himself to deepen the kiss, to let his teeth nip at your lips, to let his tongue taste your skin. You were set in front of him like a pure white rose and Jihoon felt like he needed to protect you and ruin you at the same time. “Shit—” Muttering against your lips, Jihoon tightens his grip on your wrist when you are the one who nips at his lips, sending another wave of lust through him. “Wait. Y/N…” 

You didn’t want to wait. This was what was supposed to happen on your wedding night. You had waited for Jihoon all night long until your body gave out and you had finally fallen asleep. Now you had him in front of you, your lips on his and he was telling you to wait? Whining on his lips, you grip at Jihoon’s shirt with your free hand, hearing him groan quietly, a sound that has you wanting to close your thighs tighter for any sense of release. “No, Jihoon. Please? Why?” 

Reaching for the arm of your chair, Jihoon misses the first time landing on your leg through your dress, sending panic through him when you smile against his lips. This was too much; he was barely holding himself back and now you were begging him. Tightening his fingers around the wooden arm of the chair, Jihoon groans again, tilting his head as he finally takes over the kiss, feeling your lips part so he can brush his tongue against yours. 

It felt like you were getting what you wanted. You had never kissed anyone like this before. You could taste Jihoon as his tongue glided along yours, his hand sliding from your wrist so he could cup your face, holding you in place. There was a familiar feeling between your thighs that you had only spoken to your married cousins and mother about. You weren’t completely naive. You knew what it felt like to be aroused, but you had never been this aroused in your entire life. You knew that if Jihoon reached between your legs, he would find you dripping from just his kiss. 

Groaning into the kiss, Jihoon’s hands shake slightly as he tries to keep himself in check. It would be so easy to pick you up and lay you on the ground under him. He could push your dress up and find what was his—pushing the thought from his head, Jihoon furrows his brows, slowly breaking the kiss, leaving gentle kisses on your cheeks. He was painfully hard in his pants but it wasn’t something that he would subject you to—his sweet, beautiful bride. 

“Wha—no. Jihoon?” Out of breath, you pout even as Jihoon presses his lips softly against your pout before leaning back on his knees to catch his own breath. It was clear he was done kissing you. Had you done something wrong? Did you not kiss well enough? Was it too obvious that you didn’t have as much experience? “What did I do wrong?” 

Closing his eyes to your question, Jihoon curses himself for letting the kiss go as far as it did. He wanted to give you what you so clearly wanted, but he also didn’t want you to hate him. Jihoon was terrified of what he might do to you if he let himself get in bed with you. He could already feel the hair standing up on the back of his neck, the beast curious with his current mood. The more awake the beast got, the more aggressive Jihoon was, and what if he couldn’t stop himself? The thought scared him more than you being a bit upset about not getting what you wanted. “Nothing, mon ange. You’re perfect. We have the rest of our lives; no need to rush.” 

Rush? Who was rushing what? You wouldn’t be fertile for the rest of your life. Jihoon knew that as well as you did. It wasn’t the main thing on your mind but the idea of not providing a royal heir loomed over your head like a waiting guillotine, knowing that the entire kingdom would be watching and waiting. “Oh, sure, but—” 

“We should get you to bed. It’s been a dreadfully long day for you.” Jihoon could almost see the gears turning in your head. He was afraid of what you were thinking about so he didn’t ask; instead, he moved to his feet and offered you his hand to lead you to your bedroom door. “Will you be okay?” 

What if you said no? Jihoon had promised to stay with you as long as you wanted. Furrowing your brows, you lift your fingers to your tingling lips, feeling confused by his actions and words after he had kissed you the way he had. “I suppose, but—” 

“Then I’ll leave you to sleep, darling.” Brushing his lips against the corner of your lips, Jihoon hums softly against your skin, squeezing your hand gently before letting go of you completely and turning away. “Goodnight.” 

Your eyes burn at Jihoon’s back the entire walk to your door. He knew you were upset. He had made a promise and in his own way he had broken it. Sighing as he leans against the door having a barrier between you and him, Jihoon closes his eyes and furrows his brow, feeling not only his cock throbbing in his pants but the rumble of the beast laughing at him inside of his head. 

13

“I’m fine, Y/N... Stop fretting over me. Seriously! I can lift a spoon.” 

It had been almost a week since Mingyu had been attacked in the forest. You had spent hours at a time every single day aiding in his recovery, watching him get stronger. Now you couldn’t stop the smile that sat on your lips as Mingyu scoffed at you, lifting his own spoon up to his lips as you sat on the end of his bed watching him eat. “You look so much better. Your color has returned and I thought I’d never see you smile again, Mingyu. I—I’m so sorry this happened.” 

Swallowing the bite of soup in his mouth, Mingyu furrows his brows and shakes his head at your words. You had said something similar, at least a dozen times every day over the week. It wasn’t your fault. He knew that much. He couldn’t remember all the details of his attack, but he knew that you hadn’t been there and you weren’t even remotely connected to it. “I swear to god, Y/N, if you don’t stop saying that to me, I’m going to pour my soup on you. I’m the one that went out in the forest.” 

Even though you know it’s an empty threat, you lift your hands to safe guard yourself from Mingyu’s soup, watching him smile as he takes another small bite before leaning back against the headboard of his bed. He was going back home soon. Your parents had already left a few days before and now Mingyu’s father was due to be at the palace in a day’s time to help Mingyu on his trip back to Leressair. You were going to miss him. You had enjoyed having a companion around, a piece of home. 

“It’s not like it’s your fault either. You didn’t attack yourself, but I still don’t understand why you went out there. Seems reckless, even for you.” 

Laughing, clearly unamused at your jab at his actions, Mingyu shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t remember really. I mean bits and pieces, but not enough to really mean anything. Just that it was a bear and it was huge.” Seeing the concerned and terrified look on your face, Mingyu reaches to squeeze your fingers, rolling your eyes and adding. “And then your brave husband found me and saved my life. So now I am indebted to him for the rest of it, I suppose.” 

You did feel a sense of pride that Jihoon had been the one to find and rescue Mingyu. There had been a tension between the two of them that no longer seemed to exist after the incident and while you wished that it had never happened, you were much happier seeing them exist as something closer to acquaintances than enemies. “Oh, for the rest of this life and the next.” 

“I’ll accept this one. I don’t need anything after.” 

Taking a deep breath at hearing Jihoon’s voice, you watch Mingyu’s eyes shift towards his door before he lowers his head respectfully. 

“Monseigneur..” 

“How are you feeling today?” It was a question out of genuine concern. Jihoon had found himself almost as often as you watching Mingyu as he slept. He would watch the younger man’s chest rise and fall almost like a new father watching their child sleep, making sure that the next breath was coming. While neither you nor Mingyu knew his true reasoning, Jihoon’s regret for the situation was apparent in his actions. 

“Much better. I’m up often and many of the wounds are healing as the doctors hoped. Thank you for getting me to them so quickly, Monseigneur.” 

Lifting his hand, Jihoon dismisses Mingyu’s gratitude, not out of disrespect but because it’s not needed or wanted. He did what he had to. Not only as the soon-to-be crowned ruler of the kingdom, but also as the person responsible for Mingyu’s current condition. “Just pleased to see you looking healthier, and please just call me Jihoon.” 

You had tried to stay silent while Jihoon and Mingyu spoke but with Jihoon’s last request, you can’t stop the soft breath you release with a smile. That meant more to you than either one of them understood. 

“Uh, I understand that your father will be joining us here at the palace tomorrow. That is also the day of the coronation. I hope that you both will attend. Not for myself, but for Y/N.” 

Again, Jihoon had you speechless and staring at him with tears on the rims of your eyes. Did he know how much that gesture meant to you? Even if Mingyu said no, just the point that Jihoon had made that effort had your heart tight in your chest. 

“We would be honored, Monse—Jihoon. I’ve told her since she was young that she’d make one hell of a queen, so I would be a fool not to see the moment firsthand.” 

“Stop it…” Whining under your breath, without much thought, you push Mingyu’s arm, causing him to wince in pain. “Oh! Oh no!” Shifting on the bed, you carefully look over Mingyu’s bandages as he leans his head back, laughing. 

Jihoon moves closer, running his fingers through his hair and letting out a deep sigh. “If you live to see tomorrow.” Taking a step back as he teases you, Jihoon laughs when you whine his name, pouting up at him. “I’m sorry, darling. You are just too easy to tease. He’s fine.” 

14

You hadn’t thought that anything could possibly be more nervewracking than your wedding day, but that was until the day of the coronation. In reality, you didn’t matter nearly as much as Jihoon and yet you knew that there would be front and center with him accepting a duty that you would be expected to fulfill the rest of your life. 

Jihoon wasn’t faring much better and though he had been groomed for this day his entire life, he still felt like everyone was going to see through the mask. He had wondered multiple times throughout the morning if he was going to be able to handle the stress of the day. He could feel his anxiety rising in his chest, the roaring in his ears that told him that he wasn’t built for this—it all went silent when you said his name and took his hand. 

“Are you alright, Jihoon?” He had that same stoic look on his face and yet you could almost see the panic in his eyes as you stood behind Jihoon in the wings of the same church where the two of you had been married. There was a loud droning from the crowd of people waiting to see the new king be crowned, but it didn’t matter once you and Jihoon’s eyes met. 

“I—” Jihoon knew he could lie and tell you yes. He could put on a brave face even in front of you, but you were his wife and something in him told him that this was something he didn’t need to lie to you about. “Not really. I’m terrified, Y/N. I’m afraid I’m going to make a fool of myself, of you, and of my family.” 

That was unexpected. Though you and Jihoon had grown closer, he wasn’t an open book. He rarely shared his insecurities with you or showed any weakness at all. In this moment, he truly looked like your husband asking for help from his wife. “You aren’t going to make a fool out of anyone, Jihoon. You were born for this.” 

You can see Jihoon’s look of doubt and how he wants to argue with you but when you step in front of him, lifting your hand to brush his hair from his forehead, he stops. “It may not feel like it right now but you are a king and just because they are going to anoint you and add a crown doesn’t mean that you instantly are going to make a mistake.” 

You were good at this—making Jihoon feel less like a failure and like he was a real person. For his entire life, Jihoon had heard the same words that he was born for this but no one had truly expanded on it. You were the first person to make him actually feel like maybe those words were even close to true. “Maybe, but—but what if I do?” 

God, had you always been this beautiful? Of course you had; Jihoon knew that, but as you stood in front of him, your soft fingers moving to his jacket to smooth it down over his chest, he swore you really were an angel. Jihoon knew that any moment now the archbishop would begin the ceremony and you both would have to face the kingdom, but for now he was happy to just look at you, feeling his nerves settle. 

“Then we face it together.” 

It had just become another day when Jihoon was realizing how lucky he was to have you in his life. You didn’t seem real. He remembered every face and name of the women who had come to Aetherial Grove before you, but somehow you were making it better without even knowing it. Leaning to brush his lips against yours, Jihoon smiles at the small, surprised but happy sound you make before you return the kiss. He was falling in love with you more and more every day. 

“Pardon the intrusion, Monseigneur... Madame. It’s time.” 

You had felt anxious, afraid, and overwhelmed before the coronation had begun, but as you stood watching Jihoon being anointed and accepting his vows as king, you only felt pride. You had watched with stars in your eyes as the archbishop placed the crown on Jihoon’s head with a smile and spoke his final words, completing the ceremony.

“May the King live forever.” 

Jihoon felt the weight of the crown on his head. He had looked at it many times, be it sitting atop his father’s head or put away for safekeeping, but he never thought it would actually be where it sits now. Taking a deep breath, Jihoon closes his eyes, feeling the archbishop place one final kiss on the rings placed on his hand before his eyes turn to you. Your part of the ceremony was shorter and less significant, but to Jihoon it meant more. 

It was clear to those who knew you that you were nervous once again as the archbishop anointed you and guided you through your shorter vows. Jihoon tried to remain the stoic king he was supposed to be, but when the crown that his mother had worn for so many years was placed on your head, he felt such overwhelming pride. You were his wife and his queen. 

Taking your hand, Jihoon squeezes it gently, whispering his praises for how well you handled the ceremony before leading you to sit down in front of the congregation as the ceremony truly comes to an end. Not only does the weight of the coronation slowly start to ease from your body with each person leaving, but also when the crown is taken from your head and put away, reminding you that it isn’t something you have to bear every day. You would be the queen for the rest of your life but you wouldn’t be weighed down by that crown at every turn and you would have Jihoon by your side every step of the way. 

“Madame La Reine…” 

Narrowing your eyes at Mingyu’s voice, you can’t help how your smile pulls at your lips even as you try to look annoyed at his teasing. He looked even better than he had a day before, though he found himself leaning on his father more than he would have liked. 

“Stop that. I’m still me.” 

Mingyu’s grin makes you feel homesick for the briefest moment before you meet Jihoon’s eyes as he glances at you from over his mother’s shoulder. You were home and that man was your home. 

“Sorry, I can’t help it. You looked so regal with the crown and the jewels. I almost didn’t recognize you, Dove.” 

Mingyu’s father was slightly smaller than him, but his presence was always larger. He had been like a second father to you for almost your entire life from the moment that he and your father had become close friends. “Mingyu, manners. She may not want to be called her title, but perhaps the childhood names aren’t—” 

“It’s fine, I promise. I like the name. It reminds me that I’m the same girl from Thornwood no matter where I end up.” 

"Well, you’ll always be Dove to me.” 

You could see the sadness in Mingyu’s eyes. You weren’t sure what it was stemming from but it was clear as day as he shifted from one foot to the other with a soft sigh. 

“I—we’re leaving for Leressair. I just wanted to be able to congratulate you and say goodbye before we did.” 

There it was and now you felt the same sadness rush through you like a shockwave as you looked up at Mingyu. You knew he had to go. There were things to be done in Leressair just as there were things to be done in Aetherial Grove. Time didn’t stop just because you wanted it to. “Oh… So soon. I’ll miss you. Will you contact me? I want to know everything about how things are going and how you are feeling. Will you let me know if you need anything?” 

Mingyu knew this spiral. You would talk quicker and not let anyone else get a word in until the air in the room was all but used up. It was as if you thought if there was no space for anyone else to say that nothing could change or happen. You had done the same thing when you had left Thornwood. “Y/N… I’ll miss you too. May I hug you? Or would that be inappropriate?” 

There weren’t many people left in the church now and those who did remain knew who you were to Mingyu. They were the ones who lived in the palace and they were the ones who had helped care for him as he recovered over the last week. You didn’t care if they thought it was inappropriate or not as tears sat on the rims of your eyes and you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around Mingyu’s waist, resting your cheek on his chest, feeling his cheek against your head. 

“I’ll write as often as I can, but Y/N... I’m going to be fine. I’m stronger than you think.” 

Furrowing his brows, Jihoon sighs as his mother continues her conversation, noticing that her son had stopped really listening to her. He was paying more attention to what was happening behind her, which had her curious. Glancing behind her, Jihoon’s mother sighs under her breath as you step back from hugging Mingyu and wipe tears from your cheeks. You were too close to that man and Jihoon allowed it, though she knew why. He was feeling guilty for what had happened, though he shouldn’t. 

“Mon fils, are you listening to me? Would you rather see the duke off yourself? It seems your wife is doing a fine job of it.” 

Jihoon didn’t like the words that his mother was using as she spoke about you. You weren’t doing anything wrong. Jihoon wasn’t upset with you; he was concerned about you. Seeing you cry for any reason at all had Jihoon’s chest tightening and his stomach bubbling with anxiety. “What? No—no, maman. She’s—what are you talking about? She’s saying goodbye. Leave it alone. I don’t want to talk about this anymore anyway.” 

Of course he didn’t. Jihoon never wanted to talk about the difficult things and having an heir was a difficult thing. “I’m not doing anything to her, Jihoon, but this conversation can’t be over. You need to listen to me and seriously consider my words. You are king now and the kingdom is going to start speculating a due date for your queen. They don’t need a reason. They only need to know that you two were married to assume that you have made an heir.” 

That was a ridiculous notion. You weren’t pregnant. Jihoon hadn’t taken you to bed and it was no one's business—except it was. His mother was right. He was the king of Aetherial Grove and you were his queen. You had spoken to him about duty before and now his mother was doing the same. 

“Mon fils… I’m not trying to presume your—how you and Y/N spend your time, but we have to make sure that she is fertil—” 

“Maman! Enough. I’ll take care of it. I understand.”

15

“She insists, Y/N.” 

Sighing as you watch your things being packed up and moved out of your current rooms. Jieun was attempting to make the transition easier, but you had just gotten comfortable in your space and now Jihoon’s mother was adamant you were to take the proper room as queen. 

“You’ll be much more comfortable in a larger area, Y/N. I have so much less stuff now.” 

You hadn’t realized that she was in the room. You always tried to at least appear grateful or happy around Jihoon’s mother, but sometimes it was difficult. Forcing a bit of a smile, you turn towards her and take a steady breath before letting it out slowly into your words. “I only worry about your comfort, Mad—” 

“Please call me anything else. My name or maman, like Jihoon does. How will I stand it when you have children running about the palace and you are still calling me Madame?” 

Children. That had been on her mind often as of late. She had made it known just as often. Clearing your throat, you force a small laugh, lifting your hands as if to say she’s right, because she always was. “Of course, maman.” You choose the latter, to call her mother, hoping it might have the desired effect and it does. Jihoon’s mother’s face softens, a small coo slipping from her lips as she moves towards you, lifting her hands to cup your face. 

“Beautiful, sweet girl. I’m so very proud of you. Now… go. Get settled in your new rooms so that you can make yourself ready for your husband.” 

You knew that your face had gone hot under her hands, but you just laughed awkwardly before stepping back and looking down at your hands. It was clear to everyone in the room what she had meant but you had doubts that Jihoon would come to your room. It had been three weeks since you had gotten married and he had yet to show up for that reason. “Mm, yes. I’ll go... Do—do that. Have a good evening.” 

Jihoon’s heart was in his throat. He had put this off for as long as he could. He had listened to his mother’s nagging for weeks at this point, along with the constant questions at meetings as to if things had been “fruitful” with the queen. The word fruitful was beginning to lose its meaning. It was beginning to make Jihoon feel sick every time it was uttered. 

It wasn’t as if Jihoon had not found himself at your door more than once over the last few weeks. He had thought of you often—too often, hearing the sweet sounds you had made when he had just simply kissed you. Those memories led Jihoon right to your door, where he stood with his pants tight and his heart beating hard in his chest. Each and every time he would go back to his room out of fear of what might happen, but today the nagging had gotten to be too much. His mother had even moved you into the queen’s rooms, giving him fewer walls of separation between you and him. 

This was a horrible idea. Jihoon could almost always tell when he was getting close to shifting. It wasn’t going to happen tonight, but it was so close he could almost taste you in the air. Every sense was heightened and he felt on edge as he walked to your door, leaning his forehead against it before knocking. 

You were already dressed for sleep when you heard the knock at your door. The first instinct you have is that perhaps Jieun forgot to do something or to tell you something, but then Jihoon says your name. The floor is cold under your feet as you make your way to the door. Slipping your robe over your shoulders, you put your hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating so hard and loud that you are afraid that Jihoon might hear it. 

Cracking the door at first, you meet Jihoon’s eyes, a shy smile on your lips as you whisper a hello before pulling the door open so he can come in if he wants to. You don’t want to presume that you know why Jihoon is at your room after dark, but you have hope. “Do—do you want to come in?” 

Everything about you made Jihoon want to both run away and also stay exactly where he was. You were the picture of perfection in your white dressing gown and deep red robe hanging from one shoulder. Jihoon could see how nervous you were that he was there, but his own nerves matched, if not tenfold. “Um, yes, if you don’t mind.” 

Moving into your room, Jihoon sighs softly, glancing around. He had spent plenty of time in these rooms with his mother but they had looked completely different. You had managed to make the space your own and somehow that comforted Jihoon. Everything about you comforted him. 

“Is everything okay? You don’t normally visit me so lat—” 

“No, I know I don’t. I just—” His brows furrowing as he pushes his thumb into his palm, Jihoon scoffs, trying to think how to go about this. How did one approach bedding their wife when it was a duty to do so? Shaking the thought from his head, Jihoon smiles and meets your eyes, reaching for your hand and brushing his thumb along the back of your hand as you tilt your head curiously. “I’m not very good at this.” 

Your heart had been beating loudly before; now it was threatening to beat out of your chest as Jihoon looked at you the way he did and when he stepped towards you. This was happening? You were scared but excited. Even though you were inexperienced, you could still feel the arousal beginning to burn in your lower abdomen. You just hoped that you wouldn’t mess this up. 

Such a sweet and innocent look in your eyes that made Jihoon want to die on the spot. Someone like you shouldn’t be around him, especially when he wasn’t completely himself. When he was so close to shifting, his inhibitions were lower, he was more aggressive, and he found himself needing or at least wishing for someone in his bed. For the last year Jihoon had stopped giving into the beast and seeking out women he would never see again, but now you were standing in front of him with those doe-like eyes, not knowing your husband was a predator.  

“You are so beautiful, mon ange. Can I kiss you?” 

Jihoon had said he wasn’t very good at this, and yet you were practically whimpering as you told him yes to a simple kiss. You’d take anything because the heat of his eyes on you was like standing next to an open flame. You needed him to help you get through this and right now he looked like a lighthouse guiding you home. “Yes, please. Kiss me.” 

You shouldn’t sound so sweet and desperate. God, you really didn’t know what you were doing to him. Cupping your face in his hand, Jihoon brushes your cheek with his thumb before delicately placing a kiss on your pretty lips and listening to your whine. It wasn’t enough; he knew it wouldn’t be. It hadn’t been enough for him. “Shh—don’t talk right now.” 

The words confuse you, but you nod, feeling Jihoon’s lips find yours once more. Maybe this was how it went. You weren’t supposed to speak to your husband while you were in bed, but the deeper his kisses got, the more urgent they got, and you struggled to stay silent. Whines and half-spoken words slip from your breath as Jihoon’s hand finds your waist, pulling you close to him and letting you feel how warm his body had gotten. 

Jihoon almost felt as if he had a fever. He needed to get some of his clothes off; he could already feel his cock beginning to strain against his pants as you whined his name. Placing his finger against your lips, Jihoon meets your wide eyes as he uses his free hand to slide your robe down your arms, letting it fall to the ground at your feet. “Try not to talk, mon ange. I need you to listen to me.” Every time you spoke, it was like a red hot poker being stuck against his skin. The beast was very much awake and you had caught not only Jihoon’s interest but it’s interest as well. 

“‘M trying, Jihoon.” 

He knew you were. Your brows were knitted together so tightly and with every brush of his lips against bits of your exposed skin, you were almost choking on your moans to keep them silent. “I know. You’re doing well, baby. Come here.” 

A gasp slips from your lips when Jihoon’s hands slide over your backside and he squats down just enough to hoist you up. Surprised, you wrap your arms around his neck and cross your ankles around his back as he walks towards your bedroom door with his eyes fixed on yours. Not only had he shocked you by picking you up, but Jihoon had called you baby. He had your heart swooning and the butterflies in your stomach dancing by the time he laid you on your bed and laid over you, his lips finding yours again. 

Your lips were soft and even your muffled moans were like music to Jihoon’s ears as he nipped at your lips, feeling you arch your back, pushing your breasts towards him. Leaning back to look down at you, Jihoon smirks as he carefully unties the top of your dressing gown, watching you turn your head away from him shyly. Such a pure, perfect little flower he had under him—he had to keep himself in check. 

“Is this okay? If I see you?” 

Nodding with your head still off to the side, you whine when Jihoon’s thumb and forefinger grip your chin, gently turning your head back to the center so he can look at your face. 

“Don’t look away from me. You are so fucking beautiful, Y/N. You don’t have to hide anything that is mine.” 

That possessive nature wasn’t a natural thing for Jihoon. Of course he wanted you all to himself and he would fight for you, but he didn’t possess you. The beast brought something deep out of him and when he looked at you and smelled how sweet you were, it made Jihoon’s mouth water with desire. You were his—his wife.

“You are mine, right?” Gently tugging your gown down your arm, leaving just the top of your breasts exposed, Jihoon groans when you whine. “Aren’t you?” 

Warm breath fans over your neck and along the top of your chest before Jihoon’s lips walk in gentle kisses over every bit of your exposed skin as he waits for you to answer. Not wanting to break his rule about speaking, you nod as your fingers grip the blanket under you tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded. You had never felt like this in your life. No one had ever made you feel this desired or aroused until you met Lee Jihoon. 

Glancing up at you, Jihoon grins when you nod, staying silent. You were a good girl, trying to listen to what you were told and thank God for that. He was hanging on by a thread. “My pretty wife..." Muttering the words mostly to himself as he eases your gown further down your body, exposing more of your skin to him, Jihoon furrows his brows to just how perfect you are. Every curve, mole, scar, and blemish is like a work of art in front of him waiting to be explored. 

“Ah—Jihoon.” Pressing your head back against the blankets, you moan his name when Jihoon’s lips brush over your nipple, causing chillbumps to erupt along your skin. You hadn’t meant to speak but the feeling had surprised you so much that it had slipped from your lips before you realized. 

Nipping at the bud, Jihoon growls under his breath hearing you let out a choked sobbing moan as you try to pull back from his teeth. “Said to be quiet. I need for you to shu—” Stopping himself, Jihoon rests his forehead on your breast and takes a deep breath, bringing himself back down. “Please, baby? Try for me.”

Tears were sitting on the rims of your eyes out of fear of disappointing Jihoon. You were afraid he would leave you wanting because you couldn’t listen to him and follow one simple request, but again you nod as his thumb gently massages into your hips over your bunched-up gown.  

“Lift your hips. Good girl.” Jihoon felt as if he could grip the gown in his hands in half as he looked at you naked in front of him. He wanted to bury his cock inside of you so deep that you’d have an imprint of him left inside of you for weeks—that you’d crave him as much as he was craving you right now, but Jihoon wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t as much of an animal as the beast was trying to make him be. You truly seem as pure as he imagined as you shyly placed your hand over the center of your legs and bit your lip out of nerves. 

Sliding off the bed, Jihoon drops your gown to the floor and lets your watch as he rids himself of his shirt, letting your eyes slowly take in whats in front of you. “I am going to ask you a question and you can speak, okay, darling?” Waiting for you to nod, Jihoon sighs as he glances down at his pants undoing them, feeling your eyes on him still as he speaks. “I want the truth and I want you to know I won’t be upset or surprised either way you answer.” 

Fear makes its way through your mind as you wait for Jihoon’s question and as you watch him get undressed. You weren’t sure what was making you more nervous, not knowing what he might ask or seeing him completely. With your voice small, you nod and whisper, "Okay.” 

Jihoon knew the answer before he even asked it; his thumbs pushed into the top of his pants, but he needed to hear you say it. “Will I be your first?” There was a small nagging part of him that wondered if Mingyu had gotten to you first, if sometime in your past with him the man had managed to talk you into letting him— 

“Yes, Jihoon.” 

Of course you wouldn’t have let anyone talk you into anything. You were perfect. Sighing out a deep breath, Jihoon nods approvingly before pushing his pants down, letting them fall to the floor. Perhaps he should have gone slower and made sure you were ready, but Jihoon watches as your eyes widen before you turn your head away as if to give your husband privacy to be naked. 

“Mon ange… Look at me. I’m yours as much as you are mine.” 

It wasn’t that simple. You had seen Mingyu shirtless before and even that had sent your head into a tailspin, but seeing all of Jihoon and knowing that—that would be going inside of you—was almost too much to handle. Glancing towards him, you quickly look up at the ceiling as Jihoon laughs quietly, moving towards the bed, sliding his hand along your thigh, feeling the chillbumps once again covering your skin. 

“You are truly perfect. Here… move this.” Guiding your hand from between your legs, Jihoon groans under his breath, realizing it might have been a mistake. You were drenched with arousal and Jihoon could feel the hair beginning to stand up on the back of his neck even as he pressed a kiss to your fingertips, collecting the slick left on them before licking his lips clean. God, you tasted like a dream. He had to have you. He’d die if he didn’t. “Need you to stay quiet again for me, baby.” 

Why did you have to be quiet? How were you going to be quiet? Jihoon was kissing your leg and not just that; he was kissing the inside of your thigh, getting so close to your pussy—to where you needed him the most. Closing your fingers around the blanket, you point your toes and cry out in surprise when you feel Jihoon’s tongue run between your folds for the first time. You hadn’t meant to make a sound but the feeling had been so shocking and it had felt so good, you didn’t know what to do. 

Groaning to your taste, Jihoon pulls back from between your legs just enough to glance up at you, hearing your yelp. “Don’t.” He knew it was a lot to ask of you, especially when he buries his face right back into your pussy, letting his tongue circle your throbbing clit. He needed this to survive now, only this—only you and your body—that was what the beast was telling him as he growled loudly against your folds, his hands gripping your legs tightly, keeping you in place even as you squirmed. 

“Ah—” Gritting your teeth, you try even harder to stay quiet. You alternate between biting your cheeks to biting your lips to finally using your own hand to cover your mouth as you whine loudly behind it. There was a pressure building inside of you that you weren’t going to be able to stop and Jihoon didn’t seem to be stopping until he got what he wanted. Closing your thighs around Jihoon’s head, you lift your hips towards his mouth when you feel the pressure finally release. 

Easing your legs apart, Jihoon licks his lips, moving his eyes along your body as you try to calm down from your orgasm. He wasn’t done with you. He didn’t even want to take a break. Logic told him to take his time, to give you time, but animal instinct told him to take—and it was stronger than his logic as the moon shined high in the sky. 

“Taste so fucking good. Keep your legs open for me.” Using his thumbs to spread your folds, Jihoon spits onto them, watching you wiggle almost uncomfortably as he turns his right hand palm up before easing one finger into your tight hole, feeling you instantly clench down around it. 

You weren’t ready to keep going. You felt exhausted and your legs were shaking so hard that you felt like you wouldn’t even be able to walk if you wanted to. Whining Jihoon’s name and feeling his finger pushing into you, you reach for his wrist with one hand and grip the bedding under you with the other. “Wait—hurts.” 

Hearing you speak, Jihoon rolls his eyes and rests his head against your thigh, looking at your fingers resting on his wrist. He didn’t register what you had said, only that you were speaking— no, you were whining. “I told you not to speak. Didn’t I?” You push your feet down on the bed, a soft sob slipping from your lips and Jihoon eases a second finger into you, marvelling at how your pretty little pussy sucks him in. He can’t help but imagine it around his cock, feeling it throbbing against the bed, leaking profusely. 

It should feel good. That was what you had been told by every one of your cousins. Your husband should want to listen to how to make you feel good, especially the first time, so why was yours telling you to be quiet as his fingers painfully stretched you before you were ready? Tightening your hand around Jihoon’s wrist as tears run down your cheeks, you say his name louder, lifting your hips in an attempt to get away from him, only to feel him push you back down harshly. 

“What the fuck do you think—” With his thumb digging into your hip, Jihoon meets your eyes, seeing the fear and pain in them as tears drip off your cheeks. Carefully, he eases his fingers out of you and glances between your legs, making sure he hasn’t hurt you in any way, before sliding back on the bed, running his hand over his lips, shocked by himself. 

“I’m sorry, Jihoon. I just need a few minutes and then I can try again. It just felt—” 

“I need to go.” 

Sitting up in your bed, you watch horrified as Jihoon quickly pulls his clothes back on, keeping his eyes down from you. 

“What? No! Jihoon, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to mess it up. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before.” 

God, Jihoon hated himself. He hated himself more than he had ever hated anyone or anything hearing you struggle to speak through your sobs. He knew he was breaking your heart again, but to him, that was better than hurting you or forcing something on you. 

“It’s not that, Y/N! I just—I have to go!” 

What had you done that was so wrong that Jihoon couldn’t even look at you as he left your room? Had you messed up that badly? Falling back on the pillows, hearing the door to your room slam shut, you draw your legs up towards your stomach and let go, sobbing loudly, not caring who or what might hear you as grief rips through you. You had Jihoon. You finally felt like his wife. You felt desired by him and now you felt discarded and completely alone again. 

16

You had only fallen asleep due to exhaustion. Now you were wandering the palace, feeling like everyone’s eyes were on you. It was like everyone knew that you had failed to not only fulfill your duty as Jihoon’s wife but as queen. The only person you had yet to see was Jihoon. It was like he was avoiding you. Quickly, you find out that you weren’t wrong in your suspicions. 

“I don’t want to deal with this bullshit today, Soonyoung! Tell Wonwoo to cancel it. I’m not doin—” Staring at you in the doorway to his study, Jihoon cuts off his own words, swallowing hard at the look on your face. He could see how exhausted you seemed to be and how swollen your eyes were even from across the room. You had been crying again. He couldn’t do this. Not today. “I’m busy, Y/N.” 

“You’re always busy, but couldn’t I have—” 

“Must you always insert yourself where you aren’t wanted or needed?” 

Visibly taken aback by Jihoon’s words, you put your hand on your chest, feeling your heart shatter. “This isn’t fair.” Your words are quiet, matching the stillness of the room as Jihoon stares at you and Soonyoung stands uncomfortably by his desk, unsure what to say or do. “Please talk to me for five minutes, Jihoon. You owe me that.” 

Lifting his hand to dismiss Soonyoung, Jihoon leans back in his chair and runs his fingers through his hair, hearing the rumbling in his ears as you walk into the room past Soonyoung, letting him close the door behind him. It was a horrible idea for him to be alone with you. It was already later in the afternoon and Jihoon had already argued with nearly every single person he had come into contact with today. He didn’t need you to be another. “I really don’t have time for this today.” 

He never had time for you. That was what your brain and heart were telling you. This was how the rest of your life was going to be. Your life with Jihoon had been a series of extreme ups and downs and you were the lowest you had ever been at this moment. Wiping under your eyes, you nod, moving closer to his desk, knowing he would probably only give you exactly the five minutes you requested. “Then I thank you for your generosity in allowing me to speak to you. I just need you to explain to me what’s wrong with me, Jihoon. Why do I disgust you so much that you would treat me like you do and leave me like you did? I need to understand what I can do to change and be who you want me to be, because I fear you are stuck with me and all I can do is apologize for that.” 

Your words take the air from Jihoon’s lungs and leave him speechless at first. He knew you were unhappy and upset after what had happened last night, but the idea that you thought that he found you disgusting made Jihoon’s mouth feel dry like a desert that hadn’t seen rain in centuries. “You don’t have to change a thing. There’s nothing wrong with—” 

“That’s obviously not true. If that were true, you would have stayed last night, and we would have... Things would not have ended like they did. Jihoon, you wouldn’t even look at me when you left.” 

Jihoon could feel the frustration rising in him. It wasn’t your fault that he was so quick to anger but why couldn’t you just let this go? Why did you have to push this today? If you could give him just one more day to get this out of his system, he’d be calmer, but no, here you were cutting him off and raising your voice. “I’m not dealing with this shit today, Y/N. I don’t have to and I won’t.” 

Shocked by Jihoon’s response, you take a step closer to his desk, watching him recoil further into his chair. “Are you kidding me? You don’t think that you owe me—” 

“I don’t owe you anything! I–fuck! Go to your room. It’s getting late and you know the rules.” 

Surely Jihoon had to be kidding. There was no way that he thought that he could get away with talking to you like this today after everything the two of you had been through over the past few months. This sounded more like the Jihoon that had ruined your bracelet after your engagement party. “No! I don’t have to just obey when you speak, Jihoon!” 

Standing up quickly from his seat, Jihoon barely flinches when the wooden chair hits the wall with a crash that causes you to gasp and take a step back. “Yes, you do. Did you forget your vows, my sweet wife? To love, honor, and obey. So fucking obey and go to your goddamn room and lock the door for the night. I don’t want to see you until tomorrow.” 

When you don’t move quickly enough for Jihoon, your mouth opening and closing in disbelief, he sighs loudly, moving around his desk to grab your arm, feeling you struggle against his grip as he leads you towards the door opening as you protest. 

“Let me go, Jihoon! God, you are a monster!” 

Making you walk towards your room, Jihoon growls under his breath as his eyes start to shift to golden. “You have no fucking idea, darling.” Seething, Jihoon tugs open your door and pushes you inside, letting you stumble as you try to turn around to stop him before he slams the door in your face. “Lock it!” Standing still, Jihoon stares at your door until he hears the lock click into place and only then does he turn back down the hall towards the front of the palace, feeling the night calling to him.

You were confused and pissed off by how Jihoon had treated you. Rubbing your hand along your bicep, you wince in pain, feeling the bruise forming under the skin from how hard he had gripped your arm, forcing you into your room just a few short hours ago. Now the sun was setting and you were feeling less afraid and more annoyed. 

Fuck Jihoon. Fuck his stupid rules. The room felt small despite it’s size and you felt like you were suffocating. Looking at the door, you nod firmly as you make up your mind, turning the lock to disengage it before pulling the door open quickly, half expecting Jihoon to be angrily waiting on the other side. Instead, you find no one, just a dimly lit hallway like always. “He’s ridiculous.” 

It doesn’t cross your mind what had happened to Mingyu. None of the ghost stories or animal attacks so much as even visit your thoughts as you tug your robe around your dressing gown and walk confidently into the hall with one goal in mind—you were going to go outside. You were going to enjoy the night air for the first time in months. 

It had been so long since you had seen the stars from more than your bedroom window. Stepping out onto the courtyard, you smile up at the sky as you take in a deep breath of fresh air, taking a left into the gardens, intending to take a short walk. You were being rebellious but you weren’t planning on being recklessly stupid. You weren’t going to leave the palace grounds. 

The flowers and trees looked different under the moonlight. They felt different under your fingertips somehow too. Perhaps that was the subtle dew that was settling on them as the nightair shifted into something a bit colder, causing you to hold your robe a bit tighter around yourself. You loved how quiet it was out here. There were no echoing voices from the palace. You weren’t hearing Jihoon’s voice screaming in your head; instead, there was just the gentle sound of the wind and crickets. Or there had been crickets. 

Tilting your head, you try to strain your ears to listen for the sounds of the bugs when a sudden exhale from just outside the wall startles you, making you jump and cover your mouth to keep from screaming. It didn’t sound human, but it did sound large and it was moving. 

Keeping your body low, though you know whatever is on the other side of the wall can’t see you, you listen to the deep breaths of the creature and follow it along the line of the wall towards the large golden gate. You know you should stop where you are; logic is screaming for you to stay hidden but your curiosity takes over when you catch sight of the large bear just outside of the courtyard gates. 

You had never seen a bear so large in your life. Its fur was dark and the pattern was unusual to you for a bear. It didn’t seem like any sort of bear that you had ever read about or been told about—this was something new. Taking a step out towards the gate, you think the bear is far enough away from the gate that perhaps you can watch it head back towards the forest, but your shoe catches a pebble and its head turns, alarmed by the sound, and catches your eyes. Golden? You could see them from here almost clearly. You were transfixed and terrified, stuck in place until the bear rushed the gate, hitting it so hard that you realized what you were doing and took a step back with a gasp only to loose your footing and fall backwards on your butt.

“Oh my god…” 

When you speak, the bear seems to focus on your face, a look of recognition in it’s eyes before it growls, scratching at the ground near your leg through the gate. Kicking your legs to get away from the claws you whine when you feel your gown get tugged, pulling you back towards where you were trying to escape, drawing your eyes down to where the bear’s claws were digging into the ground and your gown. “No, no! Please!” 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you try to pull yourself free, but then searing pain tears through your thigh when the bear’s claws tear through your gown, skin, and muscle. Screaming out of fear and pain, you lay back on the ground, feeling hands on your waist as someone pulls you away from the gate until the snarling of the bear is so distant that you can barely hear it anymore. 

“Madame!” You looked pale, blood was seeping from the wound on your thigh quickly and Wonwoo was starting to panic. “Fuck!” Pulling you into his arms, the steward is able to get you inside the house and on to the same floor where they had laid Mingyu the morning Jihoon had found him. 

“What happened?!” 

“You know what happened! Look at her leg, Jieun. Soonyoung get the doctor, now!” 

17

Some nights that Jihoon would shift felt more like a nightmare than others. Last night had to be the worst nightmare of Jihoon’s life—except it hadn’t been a dream. Rubbing his fingers over the silk in his hand, Jihoon sits up in a panic, putting his free hand on his chest, struggling to breathe, remembering your frantic screams of pain as Wonwoo managed to get you away from him. What the fuck had he done? 

Jumping to his feet, Jihoon groans to the pain in his head and body as he pushes through it, starting the run back towards the palace, feeling the rocks biting into his feet. Normally he would wait for Soonyoung to find him and to give him clothes but he didn’t care today. You were hurt or possibly worse. Jihoon had to find you and make sure that you were okay. He had to fix this. How the fuck could he fix this? 

“Jihoon!” Sliding off the back of his horse, Soonyoung shakes his head, pulling the bundle of clothes from the back of the saddle, as he watches Jihoon run past him naked and panicking. He had seen all sides of his best friend before. The anger, the sadness, and the panic, but never had he seen him be willing to run through the forest completely naked. “Jihoon, stop!” 

Hearing Soonyoung’s voice, Jihoon turns back towards him and runs to him, grabbing his shirt as he tries to keep his emotions in check, quickly failing as the panic slips through. “Is she alive?” 

“Yes, yes! I’ll get you back to her, but put on some clothes first. You can’t just run to the palace like this. You—” Sighing seeing the desperate look in Jihoon’s eyes, Soonyoung grips Jihoon’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re the king. Pull yourself together.” 

Jihoon wasn’t sure how he was supposed to keep himself together. The entire ride back to the palace Soonyoung reminded him to remain calm on multiple occasions until they reached the stable and he was able to go search for you. It was clear that the others in the palace were on high alert. This was different from any other time that Jihoon had attacked or killed anyone. It wasn’t even that it was you; it was that you were the queen. 

“Where is she?” 

Wonwoo knew that Jihoon would be back soon. He could see that the man looked worse for wear, but he always did after a night in the forest. He would prefer if he bathed and took care of himself before going to see you, but the look in Jihoon’s eyes told him that wasn’t going to happen. “In her room with the doctor. Sire!” When Jihoon doesn’t stop, his steps quick towards the hallway that would lead him to you, Wonwoo sighs, “Jihoon!” 

Tears were already sitting on the rims of Jihoon’s eyes when he turned around to meet Wonwoo. He didn’t want to talk to anyone else before he saw you. He needed to see you or else he was going to die right there on the spot. His heart would give out from guilt and grief. “What!” 

“She was asking for you all night. I told her that you were out. I couldn’t explain where.” 

Leaning his head back to try to keep the tears from spilling over, Jihoon nods and sniffs hard, knowing that he had hurt you in so many ways. He wasn’t even there when you needed him the most, when you were asking for him while you were scared and in pain. He was a failure and a monster. Just like you had called him.  

You had been in and out of consciousness over the last few hours since the attack. You weren’t feeling much of the pain from the medicine, which was also helping you to sleep. Even now as the doctor changed out your bandages, his brows furrowed at the deep gashes he had stitched closed, you barely flinched, and you didn’t notice Jihoon moving into the room, his eyes glossing over at the sight of you. 

“Is—will she be okay?” 

The doctor hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the room, so when Jihoon spoke, the older man sighs, lifting his hand to his chest to calm himself down before looking towards him and lowering his head in respect. “Yes, sire. The butler was able to get me to her quickly and I stopped the bleeding. There will be scarring, but the queen will be fine as long as we keep infection from settling in the wounds.” 

Nodding along with his words, Jihoon moves closer as the doctor finishes up his task, moving from your bedside, allowing Jihoon to take his place at your side. You looked so small and fragile as you slept. Jihoon felt like his heart was being crushed as he looked over your sweet face and then down at your thigh, where blood was already beginning to seep through the bandages that the doctor had just replaced. 

All of the emotions that Jihoon had been trying to keep at bay come to the surface with that blood, knowing that he did this to you. You were going to be in pain because of him. Tears stream down Jihoon’s face as he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against his hand, his elbow on his knee just letting you rest. He didn’t want to disturb you—he didn’t want to do anything to cause you discomfort ever again. 

“Jihoon?” 

Your voice brings Jihoon back to the moment and causes his shoulders to shake as he chokes back a sob hearing how weak you sound. Sniffing back his tears, Jihoon licks the tears from his lips and opens his eyes to meet yours before taking your hand and squeezing it gently, unsure what to even say. 

“Where were you? I—” Wincing as you try to move in the bed wanting to sit up, you fall back down on your pillows, feeling Jihoon helping you get back to where you were, his fingers brushing over your cheek. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I—I don’t even…” How was he going to lie to you again? He couldn’t tell you that he did this. How could he? “I was called away last minute and I was out—” 

“What? That makes no sense.” Shaking your head, you sniff back your own tears, knowing he is lying to you. “Jihoon, I was alone and afraid. I just—please don’t lie to me.” 

Taking a deep breath, Jihoon tries to think of what to say next, his eyes moving from your face to your leg and back multiple times. You find yourself wondering if he is disgusted by it and what scars will remain. Reaching for the sheet near your leg, you pull it over your bandages and lower your head in shame, causing Jihoon’s resolve to break. 

“Fuck—Y/N. I—” Choking on his own sob, Jihoon shakes his head, moving to his feet even as you reach for him, starting to feel concerned and confused by his reaction. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen to you again. I swear.” 

“You couldn’t have prevented—” Watching Jihoon turn and move out of your bedroom, you force yourself to sit up despite the pain, wanting to stop him even though you are unable. “Jihoon!” 

Even hearing you yell his name sends Jihoon down a darker spiral, his fingers tugging at his hair as he leans against your closed door, the tears dripping off his cheeks and on to his shirt. 

“Sire?” 

Wonwoo… Closing his eyes at hearing Wonwoo’s voice, Jihoon knocks his head back against the wooden door as the thought comes to him of what he has to do and who would help him do it. If anyone in this palace would listen to him, it was Wonwoo. 

“I need you to help me with something.” 

“Okay, what—” 

“And Y/N… she doesn’t need to know.” 

18

It had been a week and a half since the attack and everyone in the palace was acting off. They were being too nice to you. You knew that you were queen, but this went beyond that. It went beyond being injured... something was wrong and Jihoon was nowhere to be found. 

“Wonwoo?” 

You were back again. Humming along with your questioning voice, Wonwoo gestures along with what he wants a few of the other servants to do, barely giving you a second glance even as you stand in front of him. 

“Where is he?” 

“I told you, Madame, he is away on business.” 

He had told you many times over the past week and every single time it smelled like shit. Jihoon didn’t go places. He didn’t do business outside of Aetherial Grove. 

“Which kingdom again?” 

“Multiple kingdoms, Madam. Is there anything else? Jieun can see to it. Excuse me.” 

All of Jihoon’s things were still in his room. How and why would he leave without a single item? There was something wrong and you weren’t going to just take this lying down. There was something you were missing; you just had to find it. 

There were so many places in the palace that you had yet to see that you discovered in your search for clues on where Jihoon had really gone. There were multiple staircases that you had yet to go up or down. Some led to rooms you had seen by other avenues and others took you by surprise when you discovered another study overlooking the garden. But it was the staircase that led down past the servants quarters that shocked you the most. 

From the outside, looking in, the palace of Aetherial Grove was grand and tall. It never dawned on you that anything menacing might lie inside the intricate golden gates and beneath her marble floors. What you found was dark and secluding as you stayed in the middle of the aisle among the empty cells of the dungeon. 

While it made you feel better that the dungeon wasn’t overflowing with people begging you to be freed, it still made you feel oppressed as you wrapped your arms around yourself, searching deeper and deeper and wondering who might have been there at one point. Thornwood did not have a dungeon; there had never been a need for one. Your mother had read you old stories of kingdom’s with dragons and princesses locked away in their dungeons, and now as you walked around one, you shuddered at the thought. 

It seemed to go on forever in the dim light. The cells as dark as the walls, you were about to give up and return to the upper floors of the palace when shuffling from a cell to your right startles you. It had to be a trick of your mind and nothing more, but as you got closer, you could hear panicked breaths behind the thick iron cell door.

“He—hello? Is there someone in there?” 

Covering his head with his hands, Jihoon knows he has to be imagining you. It wouldn’t be the first time since he had made Wonwoo put him in the dungeon that he had started to hallucinate. Shaking his head, muttering no, no, no, he laughs a bit manically under his breath as he glances up towards the small, barred window, seeing fingers gripping the iron. “Stop it…” 

Jihoon’s voice sends a shiver down your spine and for a moment you stare at the door in front of you like it’s not even there. It feels impossible to hear him in a place like this and not only that but to hear him sound like that—so weak and scared. “Oh my god! Jihoon?” 

Tugging at the handle of the cell door, you feel warm tears run down your cheeks when it won’t budge. Why was he locked inside of a cell? This was insane. He was the king of this palace for godsakes. “Jihoon! I can’t—the door won’t—it’s locked!” 

You were actually there? No, there was no way. Moving to his feet, Jihoon winces to the light through the bars when he sees your eyes as you rise to your toes, trying to see inside the cell. You were so beautiful. It was painful to see you. “Go away, Y/N.” 

Shaking your head, you tug at the door again in vain, not understanding Jihoon’s words. It didn’t make sense to you. “I—I don’t understand! I can’t go away. I won’t! I have to get someone to get you out of here. Who put you here?!” 

The laughter starts low and soft until finally Jihoon can’t hold it back. It was all ridiculous to him now. He hated himself so fucking much and he loved you just as much only to have a solid iron wall between the two of you now. That was the only way you were safe, and even then, Jihoon knew he could break it down if he tried hard enough—if the beast tried hard enough. “Who put you here?!” 

Taken aback when Jihoon mimics your words and the tone of your voice, you stare into his cell, trying to see him better. With limited light making it’s way into the cell, you could only see bits and pieces of him, but it was enough to tell he was naked and filthy. There was dirt and... was that blood? No, you were letting your fear get the better of you. 

“What’s wrong, Jihoon?” Pushing your fingers back through the bars, you sob out the words watching your husband move closer to the door, feeling a chill run down your spine seeing him closer. He didn’t look like himself at all. Jihoon was always well put together, but now his hair was matted with dirt and there was a look on his face you didn’t recognize—and his eyes. His eyes were so different. Why did those eyes look so familiar? Those golden eyes?

Sliding his fingers over yours, Jihoon’s eyes take in every bit of you that he can, knowing that he might never see you again. He thinks back to seeing you laying in bed, the blood seeping through the bandages as you whined in your sleep before waking up and asking him things he couldn’t answer. “Please leave me. Do this for me.”

You could hear the sorrow in Jihoon’s voice that it was breaking you in pieces. Why would he want to stay here? This wasn’t something he could ask of you. Shaking your head, you start to argue with him when Jihoon’s voice becomes more frantic, his fingers holding yours tightly behind the door. 

“Please! Please?! Y/N, can’t you do this one thing for me? Let me die down here where I can’t hurt you!” 

Trying to pull your hand away from Jihoon as you sob, you try to say his name when you feel an arm wrap around your waist and another around your wrist, easing you back from the cell door. 

“Let go of her, Sire... now.” 

Growling from inside the cell makes your blood run cold, but Jihoon’s fingers slide from yours and Wonwoo is able to bring your hand down from the door and to your stomach, where he holds it to you tightly. 

“It’s time to go back upstairs, Madame.” 

Why was Wonwoo always part of things like this? Trying to pull from his grasp, you whine his name, finding his grip too strong as he turns with you in his arms, walking back the way you had come. Behind you, you hear Jihoon’s growling soften into a whimper of your name as you lean your head back against Wonwoo’s chest, begging the man to let you go so you can go back for your husband. 

“I can’t. Please walk or I’ll have to carry you.” 

“I hate you. You did this, didn’t you? Why did you lock him in there?!” 

Sighing to the tone of your voice when you scream at him, Wonwoo bends his knees and pulls you into his arms much like he had the night he had saved you from the beast. Even though you push at his chest and struggle to get loose from him, you find yourself unable to grow wearier with each step up towards the light. 

“Because he asked me to, Madame.” 

19

Over the next few days, you find yourself getting lost in the palace as you attempt to find the staircase to the dungeon again. You had known where it was. You had seen Jihoon and felt his hand on yours, and yet by the time that you had made it upstairs with Wonwoo, it was as if exhaustion had clouded your mind, causing you to become confused and disoriented. 

You knew better than to ask Wonwoo for his help. He was keeping a closer eye on you, ever looming at every step you took and always directing you in the direction of your parlor or the library for a distraction. He was always reminding you that Jihoon was away on business. He was always lying to you, even though he knew that you knew the truth. 

It wasn’t until the fourth day that you managed to get Soonyoung’s facade to crack. You had watched him wander aimlessly around the palace only to look at you and start to say something before turning in the other direction. Something was on his mind and you knew what it was. He hated the idea of Jihoon in the dungeon as much as you did; he had to. That was his best friend. 

“Stop walking away from me.” 

Shaking his head as he continues walking away from you, Soonyoung furrows his brows, feeling his stomach twist with anxiety as you continue to follow with a limp in your step. “I’m not, madame... I’m just—I’m trying to get something done.” 

“Stop lying to me, Soonyoung! Stop making me chase you.” 

You were out of breath and Soonyoung felt horrible, but it wasn’t until he heard you wince in pain and heard the sound of you hitting the floor that he stopped in his tracks, running back towards you. Moving his eyes quickly over your face and down your body, Soonyoung feels the anxiety in him turning to panic as his hand hovers over your leg before he gives in and meets your eyes. “Are you hurt? Do I need to get the doctor? Is it your leg?” 

Dropping your act, you let out a slow, calming breath, grabbing Soonyoung’s hand and keeping him close to you. “I’m fine; I don’t want a doctor. I want my husband.” 

Opening his mouth in awe, Soonyoung is genuinely impressed by your willingness to go so far as to feign reinjuring yourself. You were a strong-willed woman and even more strong-willed since you became queen. Swallowing hard, Soonyoung shakes his head, looking down at the floor in front of you as you tell him what you want. He starts to tell you the same thing everyone else has when you grab his chin and make him meet your eyes. 

“I just—I want to take him food. Help me get back down there, please? I just want to see him for a few minutes. You can do this much for me.” 

Soonyoung knew this was a horrible idea as he walked in front of you, leading you down into the dungeon. Wonwoo would kill him and then blame it on someone else if this went poorly. Everyone had been warned not to let you come back down to the cells and yet here Soonyoung was doing just that and leading you right to Jihoon. “Ten minutes, Y/N... Anymore and Wonwoo will come looking for you.” 

You watch as Soonyoung looks inside Jihoon’s cell with his brows furrowed before he unlocks the cell door and steps back, letting you pull the door open. What you find is very different from what you had expected. Jihoon had seemed delusional and manic the last time you had seen him; now, while he seemed confused and afraid, he was lucid. 

Tears instantly fill your eyes at the sight of him as you move into the cell and put the plate of food on the bench. Moving to Jihoon, you throw your arms around his neck, feeling him carefully hold on to your waist. What you don’t see are Jihoon’s eyes locked on Soonyoung's, full of confusion and anger, before he buries his face against your neck, enjoying the moment knowing he has to let you go. 

“Why are you here, mon ange?” 

He really was different. This was your Jihoon now. Shaking your head, you sit beside him and carefully inspect him, lifting your hand to brush your fingers over his cheek, feeling Jihoon lean into your touch. “Miss you so much. Why—I—I brought you food.” Turning back to the plate, you put it on your lap and watch Jihoon’s smile turn sad as he nods gratefully. 

“I eat, darling. I don’t—I’m not starving.” He missed you terribly. This was making it worse. He had realized he loved you and now he was keeping himself from you. You were sitting right next to him, teasing him with the possibility of having his wife in his life, and Jihoon couldn’t take it. “You can’t be down here. Soonyoung, you need—” 

“Please, Jihoon. End this. Come upstairs and back to me? I’ll do anything. I’m sorry for whatever I did—” 

“You didn’t do anything, Y/N. I did. I—you don’t get it.” 

You didn’t and yet, as always, Jihoon wasn’t explaining it. “Then explain it to me. I need my husband. I cannot and will not live my life like this with you living in a cell.” 

You had every right to be angry with Jihoon. That was better than blindly trusting him. Looking towards the door, Jihoon sighs. Following his eyes, you see how the door is bent and scratched. That hadn’t been there before. It didn’t make any sense. How had Jihoon done that to a solid iron door? He seemed so normal and calm now compared to how he had been before. Did you even really want to know the answer to any of the questions you were asking yourself? 

“Or—just come home. You seem so much better.” 

“I do feel better, for now.” Jihoon wasn’t lying. He was a couple days out from shifting at this point and this was when he felt the best he could. He was on top of the world and could accomplish anything, but soon he would be right back where he was. You had visited him right before he shifted last time. You had put yourself in danger once again unnecessarily and that was what terrified Jihoon. You didn’t listen. “But you always—you didn’t stay inside that night, Y/N.” 

“I’ll stay inside! Forever!” Grabbing Jihoon’s hand, you blink through tears and pull his hand to your lips as you beg him to end this. “I swear it. Please?” 

Jihoon feels his chest tightening as you kiss his knuckles and as your tears hit his skin. He knows he should say no and stay where he is. No one, especially you, can be hurt or killed while he is locked away, but then you meet his eyes and plead with him once more and Jihoon’s resolve breaks. “Okay, mon ange.” 

20

There was ignorance and then there was blissful ignorance. For a week you had attempted to be blissfully ignorant, enjoying the presence of Jihoon back in the palace. Things had gone back to normal as much as they could, though you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that was growing inside of you. 

So much about your life in Aetherial Grove didn’t make sense. Jihoon didn’t make sense and how everyone acted around him didn’t make sense. They treated him as if he were made of glass, so fragile that one wrong word and he might break. You were the only person to not treat him this way and many times you found yourself being chastised for doing so and being reminded that the king has a fragile temperament. 

Even with all of the looming anxiety and building tension in the palace, you had kept your word to Jihoon and stayed inside each and every night for close to two weeks. Not once in those two weeks did he come to your bed or make an effort to be closer to you than he already was and you found yourself growing more and more weary as the days crept by, wondering if this was the life you were resigned to. 

It wasn’t until Jihoon had kissed you gently one evening and whispered his goodnight wishes to you earlier than any other night that week that you found yourself feeling defiant. You had promised not to go outside, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t wander the palace after dark. You could go to Jihoon’s room and speak to him about how you were feeling—surely this would be allowed. 

So that was where you found yourself, standing in front of Jihoon’s open door, finding it empty. He had said he was tired and that he was going to bed not ten minutes ago and yet there was no one to be found. Sighing under your breath, you tug your robe around you tighter and furrow your brows as you start to go back towards your room when you hear the sounds of the heavy front doors shutting. Why would anyone be going outside at this time of the night? You weren’t allowed to, so surely no one else was either. 

Following the sound, you let your hand hover over the door before finally pushing it open and shivering instantly to the cold night air, stepping out into the darkness feeling a pang of guilt in your stomach. You were breaking your promise, but something wasn’t right. There was someone at the gates and they were open. Moving towards them, you start to speak when you find yourself horrified and shocked as you watch Soonyoung easing the gate closed as Jihoon falls to the ground just outside of it, his skin ripping as something bursts through the muscle. What was happening? Why wasn’t Soonyoung helping him? 

With your hand on your stomach, you try to run with your leg beginning to burn and Jihoon’s name on your lips when you find yourself collapsing as Jihoon’s body starts to change in front of your eyes. Limbs break and between his screams, he growls like an animal. Fur takes the place of his skin and quickly he becomes something you had seen once before when it had attacked you. 

Turning back towards the palace, his head bursting with tension and anxiety, Soonyoung stops in his tracks just a few feet from the gate when he sees you sitting on your knees in front of him. Terror takes the place of his anxiety as Soonyoung runs towards you, pulling you to your feet as Jihoon snarls at the gate, pushing against it, seeing you both there. “Y/N! You can’t be out here! You promised!” 

With the wind biting at your face, tears drip off your cheeks and onto your gown as you stare at Jihoon’s golden eyes as he tries to push in the gate, finding it impossible. You push at Soonyoung’s chest as he tries to lift you, your eyes locked on Jihoon, until hands hold either side of your face, making you look at Soonyoung. “We have to go inside! The gate is strong but if he tries harder, it won’t hold.” 

“Is that….” You knew the answer to your question and yet it didn’t seem real as Soonyoung pulled you to your feet, feeling you collapse only a few feet from the palace doors. "Soonyoung, is that Jihoon?! Did he—Mingyu? Me?!” 

Shaking his head, Soonyoung wants to tell you no. He wants to make you get up and tell you that it’s all a bad dream but he can’t so instead he stays silent and gestures towards the door. 

“Tell me!” 

“Soonyoung, go inside. I’ll tell her.” 

Lifting your eyes toward the doors as light spreads out along the courtyard, you and Soonyoung stop everything to meet the eyes of Jihoon’s mother, seeing a solemn look on her face. You watch as Soonyoung starts to argue only for her to lift her hand and for her to offer it to you to take. 

“I’ll explain it all.”

21

The ground is hard under Jihoon and yet his body doesn’t feel nearly as cold as it usually does when he wakes up early in the mornings. He can hear the birds chirping and the trees shifting with the gentle wind. If it weren’t for the rocks under his body and the ache in his muscles, it would almost be peaceful—welcomed. 

Jihoon could remember seeing Soonyoung dragging you back to the palace the night before. He hadn’t attacked you; thank God for that, but you had lied to him. That would be something he would have to deal with once he got back to the palace, but for the time being, Jihoon lay quietly, feeling the sun heating up the blanket draped over his body. 

Then it dawns on him that there is a blanket covering him. Not once has he ever woken up to something like this. Soonyoung would often be waiting for him with clothes and sometimes even something warm to eat or drink, but he had never gotten close enough to cover him as he slept. Someone had. 

Lifting his head, Jihoon searches around him and that’s when he sees you sitting with your back against a tree, your eyes moving over a book resting on your lap. Why the fuck were you here? Panicked Jihoon takes a sharp breath, sitting up almost too quickly, feeling the blood rushing to his head. There was no reason for you to be out in the forest—no reason for you to be near him like this... unless you knew. 

Muttering your name under his breath, Jihoon notices the clothes folded next to him and whines, realizing how much you seemed to prepare for this moment. You seemed to have been waiting for a while. Even now hearing him panic behind you, the only sign that you knew he was awake was the way you turned your head further, offering him more privacy. 

Tugging the pants over his legs, Jihoon looks from you and back down to the ground as he stumbles, trying to hurry as he attempts to walk and dress at the same time. Fear was taking hold of him; it was coursing through his veins like never before and by the time that he was dressed, he found himself falling to his knees in front of you with tears in his eyes and shaking his head. 

“I—I’m so sorry, mon ange. I’m—” Swallowing hard as he meets your eyes, Jihoon loses the composure he had, the tears streaming down his cheeks once you close your book. “I’m a monster, Y/N. You don’t deserve this shit. You—fuck… I hurt yo—” 

Jihoon wants to explain it all and make you understand how sorry and dangerous he is but all his words jumble together. None of it seems to matter to you as you lift your hand, resting it against his cheek, your thumb brushing the tears from it as you shush him, shaking your head along with his words. 

Leaning into your touch, Jihoon lets out a shaky sob, cupping your hand his own and bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm when you don’t speak. He was terrified of what you might say, but you say nothing and yet he can feel it all as you simply sit with him in the moment. 

Hand in hand, you and Jihoon finally make your way back to the palace. You feel his thumb brush the back of your hand as he takes deep breaths to keep himself steadfast, knowing it’s not just your eyes on him anymore. Now you understand him. You understand it all. While it doesn’t make any of what had happened to you or any other woman that came to Aetherial Grove right, you still understand it, and it’s not Jihoon’s fault. 

He didn’t choose this curse. He wasn’t the person who was at fault and yet he was the one who bore it. You had sat watching him sleep that morning and decided that he wouldn’t bear it alone. 

“I’m just going to get cleaned up, darling, and then we can talk a bit more.” 

Standing at the door to Jihoon’s room, you smile at him as he lifts your hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each one before he starts to turn to leave you. “Jihoon.” 

You hadn’t spoken much to Jihoon since he had woken up and yet that was okay. There was something in your comforting silence that made Jihoon feel at peace. Hearing his name on your lips now was almost a welcomed surprise that had him half concerned and intrigued as Jihoon brushed his fingers over your cheek, humming questioningly as your eyes searched his face. 

“Can I stay? Let me help you.” 

Innocent and his. Parting his lips to let out a soft breath, Jihoon tries to think of how to speak but you don’t let him dwell on it. You take his hand in yours and open the door to his room, leading him in on your own. 

There was always a bath ready for Jihoon by the time he was back from the forest; today wasn't the exception. Stripping off the clothes you had brought him one by one, Jihoon furrows his brows and tries to muffle a pained groan as he feels the tension in his back muscles knowing you aren’t too far away. 

From where you were, you could see Jihoon out of the corner of your eye as you kept your eyes down once again, attempting to give your husband his privacy until he was in the water. You had seen him naked the night he had come to your room and briefly before you covered him with the blanket, but still you felt your cheeks heat up at the thought. 

Hearing the water break and shift, you take in a deep breath, listening to Jihoon’s sighs of relief before finally lifting your eyes and moving towards him as he watches you. His eyes had been intense before but knowing what you know now, somehow they felt different. You weren’t necessarily scared of him and you didn’t pity him, but there was something about him that kept you on your toes. 

Jihoon could see the shy look on your face as you swallowed your breath sitting on the side of the tub, keeping your eyes averted from looking down into the water. He was your husband and still you were so sweet and innocent you were afraid to look. Perhaps that was his fault—no, he knew it was. 

Sighing softly as he watches you lather your hands with soap, Jihoon anticipates your touch only to feel a shiver run through his body when you finally do touch him. Your hands are gentle and soft, matching how delicate you really are as you work the soap into his skin along the top of his shoulders. “You don’t have to help me with this.” Even though Jihoon speaks, his words saying one thing, he closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of you, causing you to smile softly. 

“I want to. You’re my husband and I—” Rubbing your lips together, you swallow your words, tilting your head as Jihoon leans his head back, letting your hand slide over his chest, dragging the lather with it. You know what you want to say—how you feel about Jihoon, but it terrifies you almost as much as watching him shift or as much as feeling the arousal bubbling in your stomach as you help him bathe. You know you are being selfish. 

Furrowing his brows hearing you stop talking, your words unspoken, Jihoon opens his eyes and looks up at your pretty face, watching your eyes avoid his in place of looking at your hand as you work. “And?” 

Trying to smile and distract Jihoon from wanting to know more, you shake your head, reaching for the soap once again before shrugging. You sigh out a breath, trying to keep your attention on the task at hand, feeling yourself shaking slightly as your fingers work close to the waterline, feeling Jihoon’s muscles tense under your touch. 

“Fuck—” Biting his lips, Jihoon sucks in a breath, knowing you aren’t trying to seduce him even as you spread the lather over his stomach, your fingers dipping below the water. “Baby—” Leaning his head back, Jihoon reaches for your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours carefully, keeping it in place as he feels his cock twitching under the water, getting harder from just your innocent touch. 

It’s only when Jihoon stops you and you watch him take in deep breaths to try to calm himself that you realize your error and your eyes shift to the bathwater. “I’m sorry. Do—I can fix it.” 

Scoffing under his breath, Jihoon licks his lips and shakes his head, wondering to himself if you’d even know how to fix it. Would his sweet angelic wife know what to do with his cock all on her own? God, it was horrible for him to want to know, especially after everything that you had been through because of him. “It’s okay, mon ange. It’ll go away in a bit.” 

Feeling Jihoon’s fingers pat yours over his stomach, you pout to yourself as he keeps his eyes closed. You know deep down that he is trying to be kind and keep your innocence, but you find yourself offended by it and feel like a challenge is placed in front of you. Humming under your breath, you work your hand free from Jihoon’s feeling his stomach suck in under your touch as he mutters your name when your touch timidly goes lower. Perhaps you didn’t have all the practice, but you weren’t going to be put in your room and told to lock the door now that you knew what you knew. You were going to know everything. 

“Ah—wait!” Hissing out a breath, Jihoon’s eyes open widely to look between your face and down to the water as you wrap your fingers around his cock and stroke him once, holding him tightly. Holding the tub with one hand, he puts his other around your hand, loosening your grip slightly as you meet his eyes before guiding you. “Shit—like that, okay?” 

Adjusting with Jihoon’s help, you nod, your lip caught between your teeth as you feel his cock throb in your hand as you run your hand over it slowly. You can't help but be intrigued by the feeling and enjoying the weight of it in your hand as you feel the arousal pooling between your legs, causing you to whimper out a yes in response to Jihoon’s directions. 

“Feels good, darling. You are so beautiful. I—shit… You are too pretty to touch me, you know that?” Furrowing his brows, Jihoon groans your name like a prayer, helping you speed up your hand as he lifts his hips, chasing the feeling of his high. 

This felt completely different from when Jihoon had come to your room. It was more than the fact that it was you touching him; it was that you knew him better. You trusted him more. You loved his man and you wanted to make him feel good. Watching his mouth part in a groan, you furrow your brows and hold back a soft moan of your own when Jihoon falls over the edge. 

Tightening his grip around yours, Jihoon whines, letting you overstimulate him for a few seconds before he moves both your hand and his from his cock, letting it rest against his thigh. It had been so long since he had experienced something like that with someone else, but the fact that it was you—Jihoon’s mind was racing and his cock wasn’t fully softening. He had heard your pretty moans as you stroked him through his climax and now he couldn’t help but let himself wonder how wet you might be. 

The silence is almost deafening for a few seconds until Jihoon meets your eyes as he presses his thumb gently into your palm, drawing a small circle, causing your thighs to clench. You knew that you wanted him, but you were scared to ask. Luckily, your eyes said enough and Jihoon didn’t want to keep you waiting. 

Water soaks through your dress as Jihoon’s body presses against yours with your back against his bed. You whine to the feeling of his lips moving along your neck as his fingers impatiently work to undo ties and buttons before you hear and feel the fabric tear at your shoulder. “Jihoon—” 

“‘M sorry… Fuck, I’m sorry. I’ll get you more. I’ll buy you a thousand dresses and all the things you want, but I have to get you out of this fucking dress right now.” 

You could hear the desperation in Jihoon’s voice as he rutted his hips against your leg over the skirt of your dress, his fingers tearing at ruined sleeves so that his lips had more access to your skin. Leaning up on your elbows, you whine Jihoon’s name, feeling his tongue lap at your skin even as his fingers tug your dress carefully down to your waist, leaving your chest exposed to him. 

“You sound so pretty, baby.” He had been afraid to let you speak before when he was in your bed. The beast was listening too closely and he was not only a fool but a coward. Now as he relished in the sounds of your whimpers and moans, Jihoon willed the beast back, determined to enjoy you and every single sound you made for him in his bed. “God, I love you so fucking much.” 

Jihoon hadn’t meant to confess to you like that. His head was swimming with adoration for you along with lust as he worshipped your body, leaving kisses along your chest. You were his everything, all that would ever matter. The moment the words leave his mouth, Jihoon hears you suck in a breath and your body trembles under him, drawing his eyes upward.  

Those had been the words that you had wanted to say to Jihoon earlier—that you loved him. You were scared to say them. You were afraid that he would never love you and that you’d never been good enough for him and yet he said them to you first. Closing your eyes tightly, you feel the tears rising in your eyes as you try to keep them back but it’s impossible as you shake with a soft sob overwhelmed by sensations and emotions. 

Moving up the bed, Jihoon shakes his head, cupping your cheek in his palm as he looks down at you concerned as tears run from the corner of your eyes. He worries at first that you are hurt or that he’s upset you, but then he sees your smile and it almost breaks him. “Baby—”

“I love you, Jihoon.” 

God, he loved those words on your lips. They scared the shit out of him, but they were like hearing a true angel speak. Jihoon never deemed himself worthy of love. He didn’t think that he was worthy of his parents’ love or that of his friends, but when it came to you, he thought he’d never in his entire life earn those words. Something about those three little words changed Jihoon, but for now he simply kissed your smile and then each of your cheeks wiping the tears from your face. “You’re my heart, Y/N. I swear I won’t make you regret those words.”

Sighing happily, you run your fingers through Jihoon’s damp hair as his lips begin to once again move along your jaw and down your neck. You felt in your heart that he wasn’t lying to you. For the first time, it truly felt like you had your husband in your arms and he was taking his time and making you his. 

Carefully working the rest of your dress from your body, Jihoon winces, seeing how badly he really ruined the dress before he drops it into the floor as you laugh under your breath at his reaction. “I’m serious, a thousand, ten thousand more dresses just like it.” 

You want to say something—a smart comeback about how he should get you dresses for the damage done to that one, but any care you have for that dress leaves your head as you watch Jihoon’s fingers run along your thigh, urging you to spread your legs. You find yourself suddenly nervous once again as Jihoon meets your eyes and takes a deep breath when he moves them between your legs, seeing just how wet you are. 

“I—I don’t think I properly apologized for how things happened last time. That isn’t how anyone should treat you, but especially not your husband.” Watching you furrow your brows and start to shake your head, Jihoon lifts his free hand to stop you as he massages your inner thigh with his other hand. “It’s not an excuse, and I will never use it as one—I simply want to explain so that we are cautious in the future. When I am close t–to shifting like I was that evening, I am—” 

You watch Jihoon struggle with his words, having to take in deep breaths. You wonder if he’s ever explained something like this to someone else before realizing he hasn’t, that he’s never let himself get so close to someone. Moving to sit up, you slide closer to Jihoon, letting him rest between your legs as you run your fingers over his face, feeling him lean into your touch. “I’m listening and I’m not going anywhere, Jihoon. I love you.” 

He didn’t deserve you. God, how did you exist? Smiling, Jihoon turns towards your palm, kissing it gently before muttering that he loves you too and letting out a breath before continuing. “The beast makes me angry—aggressive and stupid. It would be wise if we were more careful about things like this if I’m close to shifting. Does that make sense?” 

Meeting Jihoon’s eyes, you run your thumb over his cheekbone as you nod, almost trying to memorize the color of his dark brown eyes as you think back to the golden of the beast’s eyes. “Yes, but I trust you. I also don’t want you to ever lock yourself away again, Jihoon. We do this together, forever. Do you understand? Don’t ever keep this from me again.” 

The thought of that terrified Jihoon more than anything. He was so afraid that he might hurt you or worse. You were more important to him than anything else in his life and he had a feeling that the beast knew that. The beast enjoyed taking things from him—or at least that’s what it felt like. Swallowing hard, Jihoon reluctantly nods, agreeing before leaning to meet your lips in a tender kiss, feeling you smile against it. 

Humming softly into the kiss, Jihoon’s tongue sliding along yours, you let him ease you back on to the bed, feeling the pillow under your head. Legs tangle with one another as his hand slides along your side, along your hip, and down to your knee before Jihoon pulls it up to his hip so he can nudge his cock between your legs. 

“Ah…” Excitement and arousal wash over you. Leaning your head back, you open your eyes, meeting Jihoon’s, biting your lip, wondering when he is going to finally put himself into you, only for confusion to the place of your excitement as he eases back. “No… wait? Jihoon, I thought—” 

“We are, baby. You aren’t ready. You said I’m your first.” Speaking between kisses along your jaw and neck, Jihoon lowers his eyes between your legs as he takes a steading breath, preparing himself more than you before he brushes his fingers over your wet folds. “I’d rather die than hurt you again, mon ange. Keep your leg up for me and if anything hurts, tell me.” 

Holding tightly to his bicep, you whine Jihoon’s name when you feel his index finger slowly ease into you. The feeling is familiar but unlike last time, there is no pain. This time you find yourself clenching around Jihoon’s finger. “Mmm…” 

Smirking to himself, Jihoon nods to your reaction before carefully pushing his finger in deeper, feeling your hand tighten on his bicep as you moan. He pictures you in your bed making those noises and wonders if you’ve put your own small fingers inside yourself like this, knowing they’d never reach as deep as he can. “Good? How about this?” Curling his finger back towards his palm, Jihoon watches as you arch your back, your mouth falling open with a breath. “Beautiful.” 

You wanted more. This was what you had expected and what your cousins had told you that you might expect in the bedroom with a husband. You knew that some marriages weren’t blessed with sex lives to be envied; at this moment, you felt like yours was. There was no way that there could be anything better than this. There was no way there was anyone better than Jihoon. 

“I’m going to add another finger, darling.” 

Bracing yourself, brows furrowed, you nod only to moan Jihoon’s name, feeling yourself stretch around his index and middle fingers. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t touched yourself before. You had made yourself orgasm several times in your life, but never had you felt this good. Never had you felt yourself stretched around fingers like you were now and that only brought you back to what you knew would come next as you felt Jihoon’s cock brush against your thigh. It was much thicker than two of his fingers. How would you ever handle that? 

“You are doing so well. So pretty.” Using his thumb, Jihoon draws small circles on your clit, watching you lift your hips as you feel the pressure beginning to build in your stomach. He had watched women cum before; he had even seen you do it once before, but there was something special about this. He was seeing you with clear eyes and you were divine. “You can let go. Cum for me, baby.” 

Your nails dig into Jihoon’s skin and yet he doesn’t flinch or seem angry with you as deep red marks appear on his skin when you cum around his fingers. Gasping his name, you push your hips down over his fingers and ride out your orgasm, daring to meet his eyes before throwing your head back with a breathy moan. 

Kissing the corner of your lips, Jihoon eases his fingers from you, feeling you clenching around them as he does. Despite his cock twitching and leaking on to your leg, he doesn’t rush you this time; instead, Jihoon brushes his fingers over your head and whispers softly against your skin as you come down from your orgasm. “You’re perfect. Love you so much, Y/N... Take your time, baby. Shh… I’m not going anywhere. Have all the time in the world.”

Though you didn’t want to wait, you could feel your thighs shaking as you fought to catch your breath. Any fears you had that Jihoon would rush out the door, leaving you alone and wanting were distant, as you felt like you were drowning in him now. Every word and brush of his lips against your skin or lips had not only made you feel like you were able to take your time but also more confident. Finally, once you couldn’t stand the growing arousal in you taking back over, you whined Jihoon’s name, feeling his lips pull up into a smile against your cheek as his fingers brushed over your lower stomach. 

“Hm, what is it, baby? Why are you whining for me?” Jihoon knew that you were still his innocent flower, his perfect little angel of a wife and while every bone in his body was begging him to take you and ruin you for anyone else—he had to hear you ask for it. Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Jihoon meets your pretty eyes as he feels your leg run along the outside of his thigh, your wet pussy pressing against his thigh, causing a groan to bubble up in his throat that he just barely manages to keep silent as he waits for you to speak. “What do you want from your husband?” 

The confidence that you had managed to build was waning, but you could see the look in Jihoon’s eyes and you somehow knew that he was going to make you follow through with his words. Glancing downward, you let your bottom lip jut out slightly, causing Jihoon to laugh under his breath as he watches you until you do finally speak. “I want—Jihoon, please? Take me.” 

You were being so sweet and soft. Your cute bottom lip sticking out at your pouted, but then you said those words and all amusement left Jihoon just like the breath in his lungs. He wanted to take you. While he never wanted to possess you like the beast did, there was a sense of pride that you were his wife and in his bed. He was lucky enough to have this claim to you and he’d be a fool not to act on it. 

Groaning under his breath, Jihoon nods before nipping at your jaw and hearing your breath get caught in your throat. The sounds leaving your mouth spur him on and have his hands once again trace the curves of your body, learning very dip and valley as he settles himself back between your legs. “Fuck—you’re… God, you’re so—” Shaking his head, unable to think straight, Jihoon practically whines, feeling your soft folds against his cock as he holds himself steady. “Please tell me you love me again.” 

Feeling the head of his cock bump against your clit, you gasp out Jihoon’s name before he grips your ass with his free hand, pulling your hips closer to him and lining himself up with you, waiting for you to do as he asked. It wasn’t a command or difficult task; it was asking you to do something as simple as breathing. “I love you, Jihoon, so much.” 

Neither of you were really prepared for how you would feel when Jihoon’s cock began to ease into you for the first time. You had never felt such an intense stretch like it in your entire life, and Jihoon was barely hanging on by a thread as he felt you clench down around him like a vice every single inch for what seemed like hours. He wasn’t going to rush you, but as he tried to allow you the time to adjust and get used to the feeling of him inside of you, Jihoon felt like he was going to explode. 

“Babe—baby… You are so tight. You have to try to relax for me, okay? Shh…” Brushing his thumb along your cheek, Jihoon meets your eyes, watching you nod along with his words as you make your best attempt to relax, allowing him to finally breathe when his hips settle against yours. “Fuck, there you go. Such a good girl. You okay? You let me know when you’re ready.” 

“Okay, oh my god.” You had been right when you wondered how you would fit all of Jihoon inside of you. Even as he lay between your legs and you felt yourself tightening around him, you were having a hard time comprehending it. 

The pain at first had been overwhelming, but now you were beginning to feel restless even as Jihoon’s fingers caress your skin and draw small invisible shapes along your chest and breasts to distract you. None of it is enough to stop you from wanting more and instinct kicks in, causing you to lift your hips, letting you watch a look of pleasure cross over Jihoon’s face as his eyes close and his lips part with a groan as you use your body like you had your hand earlier. “Please?” 

Anything you wanted. Jihoon would give you the moon and the stars. He would climb to the top of the palace and stand on the roof to pluck them out of the sky and bring them down one by one for you if you asked him to. Doing this—making love to his wife—Jihoon was more than happy to do. 

Lacing his fingers with yours, Jihoon presses your hand to the bed with the first swallow thrust of his hips, watching your mouth fall open with a choked moan. There was no way he was going to last long, but he’d rather die than cum without feeling you let go around his cock. He had denied himself for so long—he had denied you—that this was more than about just fucking you; it was about the pleasure he was determined to give you and to make you remember that he was the only one who’d ever make you feel this way. 

“Ji–Jihoon…” Tears fall over the rims of your eyes as Jihoon’s hips meet yours harder, his head buried in the crook of your neck. You had dreamt of pleasure like this but never thought it would be real until this moment—until Lee Jihoon. Digging your nails into his lower back, you press your head back into the pillow, gasping out a moan and arching your back, feeling the familiar pressure building with each of Jihoon’s deep thrusts. “Kiss me? Please kiss me, Jihoon.” 

The moon and the stars. Tightening his fingers on yours, Jihoon kisses your neck and groans your name before walking his kisses up to your lips, claiming them once again when you ask for something. He could feel himself barreling over the edge, his climax teetering on a precarious edge, but still determined to feel you first, Jihoon shifts his body closer to you, listening to you whine loudly against his lips as he pushes your leg up towards your stomach so he can bury his cock into you hard. “Come on, mon ange. Give it to me...” 

Jihoon sounds desperate and breathless against your lips; his thrusts are sharp and irregular as he gets exactly what he wants when you fall apart for him. Gasping for a deep breath, you find it impossible when your orgasm rips through you, causing your thighs to shake around Jihoon’s body. Resting his forehead against yours, Jihoon groans your name, feeling himself unable to hold back cumming hard into your warm pussy as you milk him dry. 

Both of you are silent beside your breaths for a few moments. Your bodies are tangled and unmoving as cum begins to seep from you and to the bed under you, making you feel sticky. It is Jihoon that moves and speaks first when he kisses your cheek and then your lips, unwilling to separate from you even as his cock softens inside of you, allowing more of his cum to escape. “My beautiful wife.”

Laughing under your breath, you turn your face from Jihoon’s kisses, feeling your cheeks burning at his attention even as he turns you back towards him, capturing your lips for a longer kiss and letting you sigh into it. You find yourself happy and sad all at once, your bottom lip once again sticking out slightly, making Jihoon lean back to look down at you before finally slipping himself from you and moving to your side, pulling you into his arms. 

“Why are you sad? What did I do?” 

Quickly shaking your head, you turn on your side, pulling one leg over Jihoon's, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your skin. “Nothing, I’m not—it’s not sadness, Jihoon. It’s—I’m not sure what it is. Regret?” Seeing Jihoon furrowing his brows, you pat his chest and sit up slightly, trying to correct yourself. “No, no, wait. Not like that. Regret that we didn’t figure this out sooner. How much of our relationship we have already missed out on because of—something you can’t be a fault for.” 

Wrapping his fingers around yours, Jihoon brings them to his lips, kissing them and speaking against them slightly muffled even as he sighs into his words. “You’re the only person who has ever truly made me feel like perhaps the curse isn’t my fault. I’ve always felt I earned it—” 

“Jihoon—” 

“Let me finish, mon ange.” Kissing your fingertips again, Jihoon smiles against them. “I know I was born like this and that the curse was put on my parents. I logically know that. That has never mattered until I met you. Every other woman has—well, you know.” Sighing, Jihoon laughs almost in disbelief at his own words as he shakes his head, putting your hand on his chest over his heart. “You make me feel like perhaps I’m not even cursed at all. How could I be if I have you?” 

Jihoon’s words cause your chest to tighten and for tears to sit on the rims of your eyes as you feel his heart beat steadily in his chest. You can’t imagine a life without him—a cursed life or not. “You aren’t, my love. You are just Jihoon. You are just my husband.” 

For the first time in Jihoon’s life, he believes those words in his heart and the rumbling is silent as you kiss him, whispering that you love him against his lips. 

22

Four days of ignorant bliss. It had been a honeymoon phase. 

Jihoon had spent days and nights in your arms, but now he could feel the hair standing on the back of his neck even as you laid your head in his lap reading your book. He knows he should tell you that he is going to shift, but the shame overwhelms him. 

Promises had been made about this. He had told you that the two of you would deal with things together, but how could he do that when he looks at your now and sees the scars on your thigh? He can see the way his claws ripped through your perfect skin and left such angry marks? No—Jihoon has to keep you safe. 

Jihoon waits until you are asleep. His fingers tremble as he brushes your hair from your beautiful face before he lifts you and lays you back in bed and he listens to the angry rumble in the back of his head. The beast is angry with him. Why was it so angry? Why was the beast longing after you? That terrified Jihoon. He had to get away from you. 

Stumbling out of the room, Jihoon groans under his breath in pain, making his way towards the front of the palace to the doors when someone stands in his way at the doors. Lifting his golden eyes to Wonwoo, Jihoon sighs out a ragged breath and gestures to the door. “Open it and move, Wonwoo. I don’t want to hurt you or anyone else. I couldn’t live with myself. Please.” 

“No, sire.” 

Confused, Jihoon puts a hand to his stomach, feeling his muscles beginning to tear from the inside out. Letting out a pained groan, Jihoon takes a step forward, trying to get to the door himself, only to feel Wonwoo’s hand on his shoulder pushing him back with surprising strength. “Fucking move, Wonwoo! You know I don’t have—I don’t have time! Why are you doing this to me?!”  

“Why did you lie to her?” 

Falling towards Wonwoo, Jihoon coughs, tasting blood in his mouth from the muscles shifting internally. Though he is still confused, he pushes past the steward harder, managing to open the door and fall to the ground at the steps and Wonwoo’s feet as the man looks down at him. “Wha—what the fuck are you—” Lying? He hadn’t told you that he was going to shift. Had Wonwoo been spying on the two of you? Furious, Jihoon glares at Wonwoo before letting out a painful growl as his back arches, the bones snapping. 

“You lied to her, Jihoon. You had made so much progress—you were changing.” 

Scratching at the marble under his fingers, Jihoon spits the blood from his mouth and turns his head back up to Wonwoo. “What the fuck? Are you spying on us?” 

“You’re smarter than that, Jihoon. Think—” 

“Jihoon!” You had woken up to the sounds of pained yowling and only one thing had made sense. With tears in your eyes, you run towards the door,, seeing Jihoon lying across the steps in the middle of shifting, fear evident in his eyes as he looks around, shocked and confused. 

“No—Wonwoo, send her—” Looking for Wonwoo, Jihoon is stunned to not see him standing over him anymore; he only sees you as you rush forward, falling to your knees in front of him This was the worst thing that could happen. He was dangerous during his shift and the beast would kill you; he couldn’t trust himself and yet you were looking at him like you always did. You weren’t afraid of him; why weren’t you afraid? “Y/N, please go away! Baby, please!” 

Shaking your head, you sob Jihoon’s name, moving closer even as his body breaks and reforms in front of you. You knew that you should be afraid, but you couldn’t. You had promised to take care of him and you weren’t going to go back on it. “No! I love you. I won’t leave. I’m here, Jihoon. I trust you!” 

Jihoon cries out in pain, his fingers breaking one by one before claws begin to take their place. He meets your eyes, able to shake his head before everything goes to black and nothing is left but the beast. Blowing out a deep breath into a growl, Jihoon opens his eyes and scratches at the floor under him, feeling the marble cracking until he meets your eyes. You should be terrified. You should be screaming, but you aren’t. 

“I’m here. I’m—Jihoon, I’m not afraid of you and I’m not leaving. I love you.” 

The words seem foreign and impossible, but even as something fights him, telling him that you are lying to him, Jihoon keeps his eyes on you, listening to you tell him that you love him over and over again as you lift your hand, putting it against his face. He could so easily kill you. Tear you limb from limb, but he can’t and he won’t. Falling down in front of you, Jihoon lets out a loud breath, resting his large head in your lap, feeling your shaky hands run over the thick fur.  

At first, Jihoon falling into your lap scares you. You worry for a moment that he might get up and capture you in his large jaws, but after a few moments, you begin to wonder if he’s fallen asleep as you run your fingers over his head, listening to him breathe steadily. Tears drip from your cheeks and down on to the top of Jihoon’s head, soaking into the fur before you manage to lift your free hand, wiping them away, feeling relief wash over you. 

“You lulled man and beast, madame.” 

Furrowing your brows to hear a voice so close and having not heard any footsteps, you look up surprised to see Wonwoo standing against the doorframe with a slight smirk on his lips. You were used to seeing him in the same suit every day. He was a man of routine and he rarely surprised you, but tonight he looked completely different. He looked almost ethereal in his long black cape and his eyes full of mirth. 

“Wh—I? What? What are you doing out here?” 

Undoing his cape, Wonwoo grins at you as you feel the weight in your lap lessen, drawing your eyes down to Jihoon and causing your mouth to fall open in shock. Where the beast had been just moments before now lay your husband, his eyes fluttering as if he were simply dreaming, his body shivering from the cold. 

“I’ve grown weary, madame. Here, allow me.” Leaning to put the cape over Jihoon like a blanket, Wonwoo meets your eyes and you notice the subtle golden color to them before he stands back to his normal height to look up at the night sky. “You’ve done so much in your short time in Aetherial Grove.” 

Still confused, you watch Wonwoo closely while trying to keep Jihoon covered, feeling his fingers holding your dressing gown tightly at your thigh as he dreams. “What do you mean? Who—What—” 

Smiling to himself at your half-asked questions, Wonwoo glances towards you and nods. “Who and what indeed. A smart queen for an unselfish king. Quite the pairing.” You watch as Wonwoo lifts his hands and turns towards you and Jihoon, a playful look on his face. “When our dear king does wake, tell him that I am grateful for his generosity and that he allowed me to stay for as long as I wanted.” 

As if realizing something, you open your mouth, seeing Wonwoo’s eyes almost sparkle at your recognition. “You—” 

Bowing at his waist, Wonwoo meets your eyes and sighs. “Farewell, madame. Blessings on the king and his queen for many years to come.” Turning to walk away, you hear him laugh under his breath before he whispers just loud enough for you to hear. “Perhaps I’ll visit again one day.” 

Stunned and uncertain what to say or do, you watch Wonwoo as he moves towards the golden gates. You wait for him to push them open only to watch as he seems to vanish just before reaching them, just a shimmer of gold dissipating into the air where he once was. 

In your lap, Jihoon groans under his breath, shifting under the cloak, finally managing to open his eyes, looking up at you. The confusion is clear on his face, but as he blinks, looking around as if expecting something to happen, you can almost see something becoming clear to him. 

“How?” 

Lifting your hand to your lips and realizing that the curse is truly broken, you can’t stop the sob before it leaves you. Jihoon, still confused, looks at the cloak around him before moving closer to you, trying to keep you warmer as you try to speak between sobs, trying to explain what had happened even though you know it doesn’t make sense.  

Though Jihoon doesn’t completely understand, he pushes the tears from your cheeks and nods along, letting it sink in. Wonwoo had been in his life for as long as he could remember. His father had never explained where the steward had come from, and Jihoon had never asked. He remembered his father and Wonwoo having a difficult relationship as well as a close friendship, but now as you tried to explain who he really was, it all began to sink in. 

His father had been a selfish king and in his own way, so had Jihoon. He had thought by keeping everything to himself that he was protecting everyone around him—he had been protecting you, when in fact he had been hurting you more. It took letting someone in and letting them stay to break the curse. Just like letting Wonwoo stay until he was ready to go. 

In the end, it all led Jihoon to you and now he would never let you go. 

His wife. His queen. His heart. 

READ THE BONUS ON PATREON

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[akawifeyy]

SO AMERICAN | smau (OP81)

description: you might not be australian, but oscar piastri loves you just the same.

tropes: yapper x listener, he falls first and harder, celebrity actress!fem!reader (you’re the daughter of matt damon, please tell me you all know who he is)

face claim: addison rae

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: sorry for the long wait between posts, i'm not feeling the best right now and i've also had a jam-packed schedule. but anyways! here you go! this is based on ♪ so american / olivia rodrigo, which is one of my fave songs of all time :)

@ f1gossip: The daughter of Matt Damon, Y/N, is reportedly dating McLaren's F1 driver, Oscar Piastri. Thoughts?

tagged: @ f1, @ f1yaps, @ f1talk

comments (5862):

@ user1: she's so pretty omg 😭

-> @ user2: First thought was, "She's everything, and he's just Ken." Y/N is absolutely gorgeous.

@ user3: even though i've been an oscar girlie since day 1, i support this. if this is real, i wish them the best of luck <3

@ f1yaps: Has a hot new WAG entered the paddock? Only time will tell

@ yourusername: howdy, cota 🤠 had a great time

tagged: @ f1, @ mattdamon, @ yourbffusername

@ user4: prettiest cowgirl there is 🤎

@ oscarpiastri: It was nice meeting you!

-> @ yourusername: ditto! hoping to buy tickets for las vegas :)

@ user5: Why is Oscar lowkey lurking in the comments... 🤨

-> @ user6: read @ f1gossip's most recent post

@ yn.updates: during an interview for her upcoming movie, "riptide", y/n was asked about the gossip concerning her and mclaren f1 driver oscar piastri. with a big smile, she replied, "he seems like a great guy, but let's be for real. i've met him one time. let's not get too far ahead, please!"

tagged: @ yourusername, @ oscarpiastri, @ f1, & 2 more

comments (1257):

@ user7: That dress is stunning 😩

@ user8: they'd be cute together as a couple ngl. i'd love to see more of them

-> @ user8: but, they deserve their privacy

@ user9: ynoscar is adorable ❤️❤️

Text messages between Oscar and Y/N (2025):

@ yourusername: las vegas was a hit! congrats to the papaya boys, p2 and p3

tagged: @ f1, @ mclaren, @ oscarpiastri, @ landonorris

comments (9374):

@ yourbffusername: super cool! miss you xoxo

-> @ yourusername: miss you too, i'll be back home soon 💗

@ user10: Twinklaren tagged!!

@ oscarpiastri: Thanks for coming!

-> @ yourusername: of course, i wouldn't miss it for the world 😁

comments (539):

@ user5: Have any of you seen Oscar's most recent Insta story?

-> @ user11: the way i ran to check and SCREAMED 😳

-> @ user5: IK, they are so evil for soft-launching, they're torturing us. *Sobs*

Oscar's Instagram Story:

comments (7521):

@ yourusername: might not be good at legos but it was still fun being with you!

@ user12: ADORABLE 🥰

@ user8: how does it feel to live my dream 😞

Press Conference Interview Excerpt with Oscar (2025):

Interviewer: Congratulations on your podium in Qatar, Oscar! We noticed a special someone was missing, would you like to tell us more about them?

Oscar (smiling): If the special someone is Y/N Damon, you wouldn't be wrong. She means a lot to me, and I'm very lucky to be with her. Anyways, she sadly wasn't able to make it because she is back in America for the time being. She's about to have her red carpet debut for her movie, "Riptide"! I saw a few clips from it and she does a flawless job.

Interviewer: Is this an acknowledgement of the relationship between the two of you?

Oscar: Yeah.

Interviewer: How long have the two of you been together?

Oscar: A few weeks after COTA.

Interviewer: Well, best of luck to the new couple!

Text messages between Oscar and Y/N (2025):

@ oscarpiastri: What a way to end 2025! See you all next year

tagged: @ landonorris, @ f1, @ mclaren, @ yourusername

comments (4898):

@ user13: ahhh omg y/n mention!! 🥹

-> @ user14: They're so cute

-> @ user9: best couple in a long time

@ landonorris: Always glad to be with you, mate

-> @ oscarpiastri: 2026 three-peat is on its way!

@ yourusername: so so proud of you 🥳

-> @ oscarpiastri: Thank you, I'm proud of you too. Can't wait to be with you again 😘

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[harrysxcarolina]

bittersuite

b eilish

warnings: wlw, soft!billie, flirty!billie, teasing, smut, fluff, angst, friendstolovers, brothersbestfriend x reader, cussing, cliffhanger, also she a thick lil thing so enjoy!!!

wc: 7.2k

I can't fall in love with you

You couldn’t help but stare at her out of the corner of your eye. The way that her hair fell down her back framing around her face perfectly. Her dark locks only brightening her icy blue eyes more than they already were. Her hand subconsciously reaching up and tucking some of them behind her ear. Noticing the way her head tilted back as she laughed at something her brother, your best friend said. A smile crept its way across your face as they pulled you into their conversation on what they should order for dinner. 

Shrugging your shoulders letting them know you don’t have a preference and will eat whatever as you curl yourself back up into the corner of the couch. Mindlessly scrolling on your phone as you steal glances at the pair on either side of you. Trying to keep your eyes from lingering too long. You catch the eyes of Finneas as you don’t miss the raised eyebrow at you silently asking you if you were okay. Knowing that you always try to talk them into your favorite place every time. Billie is quick to pull his attention back on her as she scrolls through the food options she's pulled up. 

She leans her body across your legs showing her brother her phone to get his opinion on the options she's pulled up. You feel your heartbeat quicken. Her body pressing down on yours as she carelessly jokes with Finneas. Your lip finds its way between your teeth as you fight back the butterflies soaring through your belly. 

***

Lounging against the back of the couch rubbing your stomach you can’t help the soft groan that leaves your lips. 

“Why did we think it was a good idea to eat all that food again?” You whine as Billie and Finneas join you in your lounging. Their laughs fill the room as you feel the sleepiness begin to creep in. Stretching as you let out a yawn slowly curling yourself onto your side in the corner of the couch. It was your favorite spot. It was in the middle of your two favorite people. It was cozy and comfortable, and you had the perfect view of the tv for all the binge sessions the three of you had. 

“We needed options.” Finneas shrugs as you fight your eyelids to stay open. You feel a certain pair of eyes on you, but the tiredness taking over you couldn’t be bothered to look up and see the piercing blue orbs staring down at you. 

“Plus, everything sounded good and neither one of you wanted to help pick so I said fuck it and ordered everything.” Billie laughs as she moves her gaze to search for a movie, not missing the way you scooted yourself deeper into the couch. Your head gently landing in her lap, unintentionally that is. Getting all comfy and cozy for your afternoon nap. A small smile works its way across her lips as she tosses a blanket at Finneas nodding down at you. Her cheeks heating up as you continue to make yourself comfortable against her thigh. Moving the baby hairs out of your face without opening your eyes. Consumed in your own little world of sleepiness. Not really sure where it was coming from, but she definitely wasn’t gonna complain about it either. 

His eyes follow her gaze as he can’t help the smirk on his face and the slight shake of his head as he gently spreads the blanket out over you. Your light snores fill the room soon after. Finneas quietly letting Billie know he has to run to the restroom. Leaving you and Billie alone for a few moments. She doesn’t waste any time before she reaches her fingertips out to gently brush the hair laying across your cheek behind your ear. Her eyes soften as she glances down at you. You were already fast asleep. Nose scrunched up as you snuggle the blanket closer against your cheek. Neatly curled up in the cushions of the couch and her thigh as your chest moves softly with each breath you take. Her lip found itself tangled between her teeth as she let her fingers linger just a moment longer. Tracing every outline of your face but not wanting to wake you with her soft tickles. 

Taking a deep breath before carefully getting herself comfortable on the couch. Prepared to not move an inch wanting to make sure you get your rest. Or maybe, just a little bit, she likes the way it felt with you cuddled up beside her. Though she wouldn’t admit that out loud to anyone. Glancing down at you she didn’t miss the swirling butterflies fluttering around in her belly as you would softly nuzzle your face against her thigh as you tuck the blanket up against your cheek. Shielding you away from the conscious world. Making sure one last time you were completely covered up before she settled on a movie and let you sleep snuggled deep into her side. 

Finneas is quick to return as he glances back and forth between the two of you. With a shrug of her shoulders, she playfully swats him away as he tries to pick on you as he walks past and flops down on the couch. Your body slightly stirs at the sudden movement. Finneas can’t help the laugh that ripples through him when he notices the dagger eyes Billie shoots him as she holds perfectly still. Carefully watching you until you slowly fall back into your nap. 

With raised eyebrows Finneas threw his sister a look. One that they both knew what he meant without needing the words spoken. Tugging at her bottom lip she refuses to look back in her brother's direction, deciding to focus on the scenes playing out in front of her on the tv and the soft nudges your head left against her thigh anytime you breathe in. focus on the movie billie. focus billie. 

She repeated the mantra over and over again, never focusing on the movie. 

I've been havin' dreams

Groaning as your body tosses and turns between the warm sheets. Sleep coating you like a weighted blanket as your mind is tricked into a different reality. One that you desperately wished could be real. 

Her hands roaming your body. Her lips leaving soft open mouth kisses down your neck as her fingertips trace shapes across your lower torso. From hip to hip. Back and forth. Never getting lower than the hem of your panties. Her lips work their way across your jaw. Softly brushing her soft swollen ones against yours. Her smirk teasing.  Moving her body closer to you as she slid her hand down your torso grasping your hip and giving you a small tug. Your bodies now completely pressed up against one another. 

“Do you want me baby?”  she mumbles against your cheek. Her mumbles trickle down your heated skin as the tip of her nose tickles yours when you tilt your head in her direction. Lips teasing as you feel her fingers continue to flirt with you. Slightly slipping underneath the hem of the black lace but just barely. 

Your breath catches as she captures your bottom lip between her teeth. Moaning into her mouth as her fingers slide lower and lower between your thighs. 

“Tell me you want me, pretty girl.” She groans in your ear as she inches her fingers closer and closer to your heated core. 

Her tongue tracing the shell of your ear. Groaning as your hips buck up into her touch. Needing more of her. 

“C’mon, I know you do,” she whispers as her fingertips finally reach their destination, but stop just shy of where you desperately wanted her. Her lips are hot against your ear. “I see the way you want me.” She whispers, her tone dropping as the words leave her lips. Grasping her back as you chase after her lips. Her smirk grows as she pulls back just before you can catch her. Moaning in frustration as you long for her skin on yours. 

Her evil chuckle echoes through the room. 

“All you gotta do is say the words mamas,” She whimpers as she crashes her lips against yours as her fingers slide between your wetness. Coating her fingers in your juices, “then I’m yours.” She moans.

Mine, mine, mine…

You’re woken from your slumber by the obnoxious knocking outside your front door. The jump scare causes the pulsing of your heart to ring in your ears as you rub the sleep from your eyes. Glancing at your phone checking the time. You overslept. Quickly throwing the blankets off your once warm body and working your way out of bed. Your cheeks heating up at the realization of what just happened. What you just dreamt about. Who you dreamt about. Your best friend's sister. Someone you most definitely should not and can’t not be having dreams about. Shaking your head trying to rid your mind of not only the images of her pressed against your skin but her soft whispers that were currently playing on a loop in your mind.

Taking quick steps to the door you offer a quick apologetic smile as you swing the door open for Finneas. A quick quirk of his eyebrow as he looks you up and down noticing you're still in your pajamas. Silently checking his watch and giving you a quick smirk and shrug of his shoulder nodding for you to go get ready. “Decide to sleep in, did ya?” He jokes as he is quick to pull you into a hug. 

“I’ll be quick. I promise!” You state as you slowly remove your arms from around him making room for him to come in, realizing his sister, the girl you just had a sex dream about, was right behind him wearing a smirk at your frazzled state. Your cheeks heat up even more as you frantically flatten out your bed head. “Good morning sleepy head. Have any good dreams?” She asks, popping the gum in her mouth as she runs her tongue across her lips. Eyes wide quickly turning on your heel making your way back to your room totally ignoring her question. Her smirk only grows as she wonders what had you so worked up. 

***

“Billie wh-what are you doing?” You asked in a hushed tone as she gently pushed you into her childhood room. Closing the door behind her leaving the background noise of the bbq her parents were having in the backyard behind you. 

“Look, I can't keep doing this.” She states as she grasps one of your hips. The tips of your toes brushing together as she tucks her hair behind her ear. Looking up at you through her laces. Confusion laced through your face as you began to question her. 

“Keep doing what? Billie what-” 

“I can’t keep pretending that there isn’t something between us. Don’t say you don’t feel it either.” She questions as she takes the last step between you two. Your breath hitches. You can smell the faint smell of her perfume as she reaches up and brushes your cheek.

“I see the way you look at me when you think no one is watching.” She whispers bashfully. 

“Billie we can’t.” You whisper as your eyes close slightly leaning into her touch.

“I see the way you want me pretty,” She mumbles as she pulls you closer by your hip. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you open your eyes meeting her gaze. Your cheeks are rosy pink as her eyes flicker between your eyes and lips. 

“I want you too.” She declares leaning up on her tiptoes just close enough for your lips to brush softly as her hand slides to cup your cheek. 

Your eyes flutter close as you moisten your lips with the tip of your tongue. It softly brushes against her swollen lips causing a soft moan to bounce off her lips. Forgetting about all the what ifs and hows it could all go wrong. You forget for a split second the aftermath of your decisions tonight. Not wanting to think anymore. Not wanting to fight the feelings that have been brewin’ for what felt like forever, just for a moment. 

Or maybe more…

Her hand gripping your cheek. “Tell me you don’t want this?” She questions against your cheek as she lays a peppered kiss to the heated skin. Moaning softly for finally being able to touch you in ways she's found herself dreaming about. Her lips lay a final peck to the corner of your mouth. Not quite taking that final leap before you gave her the okay. Not until you told her what she was wanting to hear.

“I want to be the one-” you take a deep breath pulling away from her hypnotizing lips to look at her. “I want to be the one you dream about.” You don’t miss the flash of emotion in her eyes before she's pulling you flush against her lips as your hands grip her baggy shirt hanging loosely off her torso. Moaning into each other's mouths as they tangle together passionately.

Definitely ignoring the swirling thoughts of how this could go wrong.

We can be discrete (ah)

Her lips leave her mark across your chest as your hands grip her back. Pulling her tighter against you as her teeth graze your hot skin. Back arching off the bed as she slides her hands behind you toying with the clasps of your bra. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asks as she slowly works her lips up your neck to your lips. Nodding your head as you move one hand to the base of her neck. Gently playing with the baby hairs that lay there. A small smile works its way across your face as you see her knowing look. 

She wants you to say it. Watching her teeth capture her bottom lip, your hands tangle themselves into her hair tilting her head back slightly. Her smirk only grows bigger as her teeth refuse to give up their grip on herself. Her eyebrows raise letting you know she is still waiting for your consent. 

Her expression softens briefly as you lower your gaze. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” She replies as she softly cups your cheek forcing you to bring your eyes back to her. 

“I want to,” You reply as your eyes trace over the curves of her face. Her lips land on yours softly. A soft delicate kiss shared between the both of you. Filled with unspoken feelings and thoughts. Not realizing you shared the same worries. Pulling away slowly climbing on top of you straddling your hips. Licking her lips as she looks down at you. Taking you all in. Your hair fanned out across her pillow. Eyes bright with excitement. Lips swollen from the attack of your teeth. Your cheeks a rosy pink casting a glow off the soft fairy lights dangling off the wall above you. Your chest lightly heaving up and down as you stare right back. Your hand reaching up and tugging on her baggy shit. Silently begging for her to remove it. Gripping the hem and sliding it over her head it joins the half-made pile of clothes already down there. 

Grinning down at you as she slowly reaches up and ties her long hair up in a messy bun. A few pieces escape and fell into her view, but she paid them no mind, not with the sight she had laying right in front of her.

Her bottom lip finds its way between her teeth as she slowly slides her hand down her neck. Eyes locking with yours as she slowly lowers it down across her breast. Sliding her hand in the cup of her bra gently brushing over her sensitive nipple. Her head tilting back as her free hand grips your hip. You watch her in a daze. Your core throbbing at the sight of her playing with herself in front of you. Moaning as your hand reaches out for her. Needing to touch her. To feel her underneath your fingertips. To feel all her quivers and whimpers firsthand.

Gripping her hip and motioning for her to move her hips as you continue to watch her twist and pull at her own nipple. Licking your lips, rutting your hips up against her. Her ass rubbing just right over your core. She growls above you as you wrap your arm around her waist, sitting up and kissing all along her cleavage. Nipping and licking at her warm skin as you leave purple marks all across her chest. Your hand working its way up her spine unclasping her bra and freeing her breast. Moaning as they sit perfectly right in front of you. You're quick to capture her bud in your mouth and let your tongue work. Licking and flicking against her as you suction your lips around her. Her moans echo off the walls as she arches into you. Her hands gripping your head holding you against her. Her hips now rocking back and forth against you. 

Rotating deliciously against you causing your entire body to erupt in shivers. Your grip on her waist tightens as you flip her over causing her to land with a soft thud. Her loose hair panning out across her sheets as your lips make quick work on her skin. Kissing down her body making sure to explore every. single. inch. Looking up at her through your lashes as you give her a soft smile silently asking her for permission kissing the soft skin between her hips. Teetering with the idea of your lips between her thighs. Her head falls back onto the bed as her hips buck up. Moaning as she whispers out a soft, “please.” 

Smirking, you quickly unbutton her jeans and slide them down her legs. Making sure to kiss your way back up her soft thighs as you gently spread her legs. Scooching down between them as your arms wrap up under her thighs and around her hips. Her eyes never leaving yours as her chest heaves up and down. Her hands groping her breast as her fingers gently tease one of her nipples. Teeth sinking into her lip as she watches you place kisses up and down her thighs. Your eyes watching her as she toys with herself. 

Planting a soft kiss over her clothed clit before sliding the pesky material off and out of your way. Your hand quickly swatting Billies hands away from her breast as you replace it. Squeezing and pulling as your lips find their way to her dripping cunt. Groaning as you flick your tongue against her clit, your hand gripping her hip as your fingers twist and pull her nipple. 

“Fucking hell-” Billie moans as she arches her back into your touch. Her hips grinding against your tongue as you suck and lick between her folds. Moaning into her, she grips your hand that is holding her breast, and the other works its way into your hair. Pushing you further into her as her legs quiver beside your head. 

Clenching your thighs and rutting against the bed as you slide your free hand between her thighs. Slowly replacing your mouth on her clit with your fingers. Looking up at her as you spread her wetness all around. Removing the hand that was gripping her tit and slowly interlacing her fingers with yours. Her grip on your hair refusing to let up. Her chest heaves up and down as she watches you play with her. Her tongue quickly moistens her swollen lips as you tease her with your fingers. Carefully slipping the tip of your middle finger into her. Her breath catches, grip on your hand tightening as you thrust your finger fully into her core. Moaning as you twist and curl your finger deliciously against her walls. Her moans fill the room as you kiss your way up her thigh your finger never faltering as you continue your sweet torture on her bud. 

Capturing her between your lips as you hit her sweet spot over and over. Your fingers getting to spots she didn’t even know would feel like this. Taking over all her senses. Sucking her sensitive clit between your lips toying with it with the tip of your tongue. 

“Shit mamas,” Billie groans loudly as her hips shamelessly try to grind themselves against you. Needing more. More of you. More of this feeling that is taking over her like a wildfire. Consuming not only her body but mind. Needing all of you in every single way imaginable. 

Your smirk grows, not missing the pet name she threw out there, as you continue your work. Licking, sucking, and teasing her aching clit as your finger slows its pace between her folds. Her whines only get louder with your finger barely moving against her, your tongue works over time. Drinking up everything she has to offer you. “Fuck, please- please don’t stop.” She moans, her back lifting off the bed begging for your touch. Pulling her further into your mouth, swiveling your tongue in figure eights, as you feel her juices drip down your chin. Pinning your interlaced hands down on the bed as she fights your hold against her.

Glancing up at her through your lashes, slowly continuing to tease her. Dragging your tongue up and down her folds over and over again. Everytime you’d get close to her aching clit you’d quickly restart the process. Eyes never leaving hers as you watch her capture her bottom lip between her teeth, her blue orbs get darker and darker the longer she watches your every move. Moaning as you feel the tight pull on your own core. Her stare heavy with all the thoughts and ways she is going to devour you later. Her fingers deep in your hair as she gently pushes you closer to her once more. So close to the blissful edge. A feeling she could get addicted too. A feeling she so desperately wanted to give to you.

 “God-please don’t stop.” She asks in a hushed tone. Her cheeks turn a rosy pink from her own words as she continues to watch your every move. Your tongue circling her clit as you slowly add a second finger. Groaning against her as she clenches around your digits. Her body arches off the bed as you thrust and curl your fingers against that sweet spongy spot over and over again until she is panting beneath you. Begging for you to let her cum. Her moans so sweet above you as you hit her g-spot just right as you watch her unfold on your tongue and fingers. Her hand now holds your head tightly in place as she rotates her hips against you.

“Fucking shit! Fuck-I’m cumming,” she groans out. Squeezing her hand as you let her work herself against your tongue. Flexing your fingers riding out her high as you don’t miss a single drop of her sweetness. Letting her go with a pop memorizing her fucked out state. A smirk works its way across your cheeks. Her lips red and swollen. Her eyes wild with lust as she gently releases her grip on your hair and hand. Bringing her hands to your cheeks and gently pulling you up her body. Your fingers leave their trace as you grip her sides. Her lips capture yours in a sweet kiss as you feel her chest heaving up and down below you. Getting lost in the feeling of her lips on yours and her hands holding your cheeks moaning as you feel her tongue trace across your bottom lip. A devilish smirk across her cheeks as you slowly grant her access.

Quick to taste herself on your lips she wasted no time in deepening the kiss working her tongue against yours. What once was a sweet kiss sure turns heated as her fingers slide their way into your hair tilting your head slightly. Slightly distracting you enough to flip the two of you over. Her now the one to tower over you. Her legs wrapped around your torso as you lay panting below her. Her forehead resting against yours. Breathing each other in as you catch your breaths.

“Who knew you were such a tease?” She mumbles against your lips, rubbing the tip of her nose against yours. It was your turn to feel the heat rise to your cheeks as her piercing blue eyes met yours. Her smirk only grows as her fingers tighten in your hair. A soft hum leaves her chest as her lips toy with yours. Gently brushing across yours but not letting them linger too long. Groaning in protest as you chase her lips only to be pulled back by her grip in your hair.

“Hm, I guess it’s my turn now pretty girl.” She mocks her hot breath hitting your face right before she captures your bottom lip between her teeth with a tug. Bucking your hips up in response as your hands search for her hips. Pulling her flush against you. Shamelessly grinding yourself up against her as her lips dance with yours. Your moans echoing off the walls as her hands explore your body. 

Her hands continue their movements down your body. Her eyes never leave yours as they get lower and lower leaving goosebumps in their trail. Her lips find your neck as she kisses your skin searching for your sweet spot. Making quick worth to capture it between her lips leaving her mark along your neck as you chant her name begging for anything she will give you. Her fingers teasing the hemline of your panties as she feels your chest heaving against hers. Her smirk only grows across your neck as she flirts with you.

“Tell me you want me.” She moans against the shell of your ear. “I need to hear you say it again.” She begs as she moves to tangle her legs with yours. Her fingertips gently sliding across your panties teasing your aching clit. Giving you a little taste of what's to come if you only were to mutter those sweet three words. I want you. Her hand gripping your hip as her fingers spread your wetness around your clit. Her breathing heavy in your ear pinning your hips down. Moaning as your back arches off the bed following her touch. 

Your body is on fire. Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it in your ears. Your bottom lip captured between your teeth. Chest heaving against hers as you feel her breast against your burning skin. 

“C’mon be my girl good and I’ll show you how I want you,” she whimpers. Her soft tone causes something to explode in you as you grip her wrist and slide it under your panties. The friction of her fingers between your wet folds hitting your clit causing the both of you to lose it in a fit of moans. Your hips grinding and rotating against her. Working her fingers and hips against your body as she captures your lips with hers. 

Her body is pressing on yours as her fingers slide their way between your folds. Feeling how wet you are just for her. Groaning as she slides two fingers into your heated core causing the both of you to pull away from the kiss but only for a moment. Thrusting and curling perfectly along your walls as your hands grasp and pull at her body. Your lips find her neck leaving open mouth kisses. Kissing and sucking along her collarbone feeling every ragged breath she takes above you. Your hands gripping her hips aiding in her motions as she hits your spongy sweet spot repeatedly. 

Her forehead meeting your shoulder as she works herself up for the second time tonight against your body. Her fingers never faltered as she thrust them harder and deeper in you. Her thumb rubbing and flicking  your clit causing you to see stars. “Fuck, right there!” You moan as your hands slide up her back holding her to you. The sweet pressure getting bigger and bigger in your core as she works you closer to your high. Her lips hot against your neck as her fingers don’t stop. She feels you clenching around her digits. Your juices dripping down her fingers and wrist causes her to go feral. Kissing her way down your body making sure to lay kisses along your breast. Glancing up at you through her lashes as her smirk grows across your tummy. Her tongue leaves her trace across your hot skin as she keeps her eyes on yours. Getting lower and lower. Her fingers still keeping up their movements as she kisses the inside of your thigh. 

With a quirk of her eyebrow she gives you one last look as she breathes you in. Her tongue swiping across her lips as her icy blue eyes bore into you. Watching as her fingers sink in and out of you over and over again. 

“Billie,” you whine as your back arches off the bed. Your hands gripping your naked breast as she glances up at you. 

“Tell me what I want to hear baby, then I’ll show you.” She states as she lays a peppered kiss on the inside of your thigh once more. Her eyes take in her affect on you. Your hair is completely done for. Your cheeks a hot red. Lips swollen and rosy as they silently beg to be kissed. Your chest heaving up and down as your fingers toy with your own nipples. Laid out on her childhood bed panting and moaning for her touch. Billie groans at the sight. Her lip between her teeth trying to fight back the smirk on her cheeks. 

Leaning down inching herself closer to where you wanted her you fight the moan working its way to your lips. Neither one of you dared to break the contact as she slowly kissed her way up your thigh. It was her turn to toy with you. Just like the way you toyed with her. Groaning as you throw your head back on her bed, her lips oh so carefully brushing against your aching pussy. Her fingers still working you slowly as she continues to twist and curl deep inside you. Causing your stomach to erupt in butterflies as she softly brushed the tip of her tongue along your folds. Needed a tiny taste herself. Groaning as her eyes roll using her free hand to grip your hip. 

“Fuck, please Billie.” You groan, reaching one of your hands down to tangle itself in her dark locks. Trying desperately for her to give you what you wanted.  “I want you so bad. Please Bils-” You moan as you thrust your hips up not able to take it anymore. Needed to feel her in ways you’ve only dreamt of. 

That was all she needed to hear before she dove right in. Capturing your bud between her teeth as she quickens the thrust of her fingers. Her tongue swirling and nipping at you over and over again. Your hips rutting against her face as your fingers hold her tight in place. Her moans vibrate throughout your body as she laps every single drop. Your body quivering and shaking underneath her as she works her tongue down between your folds and then back up. Sucking your clit as her fingers grip your hip pinning you down. She was in charge now. 

“Fucking shit- oh my god Billie!” You moan as your legs try to clench around her head. Her tongue and fingers do wonders on your body as you feel yourself climbing high and higher. You moans echoing off the walls not caring who all could hear. The tightness gets too much to bare as she refuses to give up her grip on you. 

You feel your coil about to burst as she rotates her tongue against your clit. Your juices drip down her chin as her blue orbs meet yours. Silently begging you to give her all of you. With one last flick and curl she had you cumming. Body shaking as your eyes clenched tight, grinding your hips against her as you ride out your high. Not stopping until she had you begging and pushing her head away, claiming it was too much. Your body heaves as you lay trying to catch your breath. 

Her soft lips trailing up your body as she slowly removes her fingers from between your thighs. Her smirk grows feeling your quivering body beneath hers as she kisses her way up to your lips. Her hands brushing the fallen pieces of hair that lay in your vision as she kisses both of your cheeks. Her eyes trace your face as she lays herself flush against you. Both of you laying bare as you run your fingertips up her spine. Softly tickling her skin causing a shiver to escape. A soft chuckle leaves her lips as she softly asks you to open your eyes and look at her. 

A soft blush creeps across your cheeks as you meet her stare. Her once icy blue orbs that were laced with lust are now soft as she takes you in. Eyes flicking between yours and your lips as she continues to run her fingertips along the curves of your features. 

Tracing around your eyebrows and down your nose, across your lips and down your jaw softly cupping your cheek before pressing a soft sweet kiss to your lips. She doesn’t linger long before she feels you gently push her to sit up. 

“We should, uh we should probably head back. Don’t want people to start to question anything.” You say in a hushed whisper. Your eyes casting down as you run  your fingers through your hair. Trying to flatten down any flyaways. 

Her eyes furrowed in confusion, but not fighting you as she scoots her way down the bed watching you get up and begin to dress to rejoin the bbq happening outback. 

Love so bittersweet, mm

“Why in such a rush?” Billie softly questions as she watches you search her room for the remainder of your clothes. Your heart quickens at her words. The actions between you and her replaying in your mind on repeat. Taking a deep breath you finally find your shirt underneath her bed. “I already told you why.” You state as you get on your hands and knees to reach for it. Billie still sitting on the bed above you watching your every move.

“Why does it matter if people question where we were?” She asks as she finally stands up off the bed looking down at you. Throwing your shirt on quickly before joining her you grab her shirt off the floor too. Holding it out for her she hesitantly takes it from your grip. 

“Billie-” You start. 

“No, don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. I know you have feelings for me.” She states as she slides her shirt over her head. Glancing down as she slides her jeans back up her thighs. Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear as you try and collect the thoughts running wild through your mind. 

“It’s not that simple.” You mutter with a shake of your head. You hear her scoff. 

“How is it not? I like you. You like me. It’s simple.” She declares as she takes a step towards you. Softly gripping your arm causing you to move your gaze back to her. Worry laces your features as you stare at one another. Shaking your head as you remove her grip from your arm.

“It’s never that simple and you know it.” You say as you make your way towards the door. 

“So you’re just going to run? After everything you're just going to run away from me?” She questions as she is quick to follow you out of her childhood room. Her chest tightens. You said you wanted her. You said that you wanted this just like she did. And you did. You desperately wanted her. In every way imaginable. But there were other people you needed to think about. How it would not only affect you but them. Your thoughts were tangled up with everything that just happened along with how it will affect the one other person you cared deeply for. Your best friend. Her brother. It wasn’t fair. None of it was. You didn’t want to hurt either one of them. You couldn’t. You refused to. 

“Stop running and talk to me.” She urgently says as she finally catches up with you and stops your movements. Her grip is tight, but not tight enough to hurt you. Her eyes bore confusion and hurt as you finally turned to look at her. Her lips are still rosy and swollen. Her chest slightly heaving at the thought of you just walking away. Hair still tied up in a messy bun, but disheveled nonetheless. Her jeans hanging loosely off her hips as her baggy shirt wrinkled and bawled up against her waistline.  

“Don’t do this. Don’t-” She takes a deep breath as her free hand reaches up to brush hair out of her face. Eyes filled with worry as they flick back up to yours. “Don’t go.” She begs. Your heart breaks at her words. Your body runs cold as you reach up to brush her cheek. You don’t say anything for a moment as you both just stand there looking at each other. Her eyes get softer by the second as you feel her relax against your hold.

“What about Fin?” You softly whisper. Tears welling in your eyes at the thought of this coming between the three of you. You had no idea how he would react. You and Billie. It was one thing to hang out but it was a completely different story to fall in love with his younger sister. “I can’t lose him. I can’t lose either one of you. This- God this could ruin it all Billie.” You state as the damn breaks free. Your hot tears trailing down your cheeks as your chest heaves in panic. “I’m so sorry. I-I-I can’t.” You stutter as you drop your hand. You couldn’t win this war in your head. You are a losing battle the longer you stand crumbling in front of the only girl you’ve ever loved. Seeing the hurt flash across her eyes as she takes a step towards you only for you to take one back. 

Shaking your head as your lips quiver, continuing your small steps away from her making your way out of the house not sure where you were headed but you knew you couldn’t face either one of them in this state. 

Open up the door for me, for me…

Billie's leg is nonstop jiggling. It has been four days. Four days since you confessed to each other your feelings for one another. Four days since her heart shattered into pieces watching you walk away from her. Four days since she's heard a word from you. You’ve gone silent. Shutting her and everybody else out. You weren’t responding to anyone. Not even Finneas. Her mind and body numb as she stares blankly at the screen. Half listening to what her brother was asking her to do on the newest track they were working on. 

“Hello? Earth to Billie? Are you even listening?” Finneas asks her with a huff. Getting pulled out of her thought spiral she quickly shakes her head and glances up at her brother. Her heart was beating hard against her chest as her mouth went dry. She couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I’m in love with her.” Billie declares. Her face goes white as a ghost as her mouth moves faster than her mind. Finneas shooting her a look. Eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“I know.” Is all he states as he moves his stare back to the screen. Her breathing stops. That’s all he’s gonna say? Normally he hounds her for information. Wanting to get inside her head, making sure that the person she was seeing was actually treating her right and the way that she deserved to be treated. She was his little sister after all. 

The only sound in the room is the soft clicks of the mouse and keyboard as he aimlessly plays around with the track. “I’ve known for a while.” He mutters without taking his eyes off the screen. “I see the way you guys look at each other. I see the way you guys get when you think no one is looking.” He states as he finally looks at her giving up on the task at hand. 

“You never said anything?” Billie softly questions as she feels the blush creep up on her cheeks. Fidgeting with the rings that cluttered her fingers in hopes of distracting herself.

“I didn’t think it would take as long as it did for you to admit it to yourself. Plus I kinda figured something went down when she left the bbq so quickly the other day.” Finneas spoke as he turned his chair to give her his full attention. His hands reach for hers, stopping her nervous habit. 

“It’s been days and she won’t talk to me.” She gushes as she fights the tears swelling up. “I fucked it all up Finn. You didn’t see the way she looked at me. God I fucked everything up.” She states as her body shakes, finally crumbling into her feelings. Finneas is quick to pull his little sister in a tight hug. Gently cradling her head as he softly rocks the both of them back and forth. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. Just give her time.” He says softly comforting her. Letting her get all her emotions out. 

“I pushed her Finneas. She was so worried about what would happen between us all and I- I fuck, I pushed her.” Billie continues as she falls into his hold. 

“Go talk to her. I’m sure you two will be able to figure it out.” He sincerely offers. “And if it helps, I was always secretly rooting for the two of you.” He says with a soft chuckle causing her to lift her head from his shoulder looking at him trying to find any dishonesty. Sniffling and wiping her eyes she doesn’t find any. 

“Go, go talk to her.” He urges. Gently pushing her the rest of the way back in her chair. A small smile works its way across her lips as she quickly gathers up her things. “Are you sure?” She asks in a hushed panic taking one last look at her brother over her shoulder. Nodding his head yes as he urges her to the door. 

Clenching her phone and keys in hand as she can’t fight the smile on her face. Giving him one final nod as she rushes to her car. Hoping and praying you give her the chance. Her fingers nervously grip and tap the wheel as she drives to your place. Her ears ringing with how hard her heart was beating against her chest. Playing out all the ways that this could go. All she needed was for you to open the door to her and all the possibilities of how this new chapter for the both of you could go. 

Please just open up the door. 

Open up the door for me…