#im very much obsessed with “what if...?” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rowdydevs · 2 days ago

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Is it possible if we could have any more dilf!rafe and milf!reader? Im literally obsessed with the family dynamic atm!!

Hi bb 💕💕💕 of course!! Thank you for your ask. This story is meant to be read either alone or with the rest of the au. Thank you for your ask!!

+18 -> smut | on prom night, a very protective rafe wrestles with old grudges, growing pains, and the realization that letting go might be the hardest part.

𝓭𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓯!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: pet names, swearing, praise, dirty talk, fingering, cum tasting, older rafe, roughish, semi-public male oral <- in a car with tinted windows, he is driving, intentional texting errors, ⚠︎ smut cross-posted on my nhl account. ⚠︎

cameron kids= Max (18), Winnie (17), Rory + Poppy (4)

You’re standing out in the front yard with your camera, doing everything you can not to cry while your daughter twirls around in her prom dress—glowing, radiant, almost too beautiful to look at.

Her boyfriend’s got his arm around her waist, holding her like it’s second nature. They keep catching each other’s eyes and laughing over nothing, cheeks bumping, sneaking little kisses between whatever secret they’re whispering like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

It’s sweet. It’s perfect. And honestly? It’s a little brutal. Because no matter how grown she looks, she’s still your baby.

Your husband’s next to you, taking pictures with his phone, but you can see it clear as day—he’s tense. His smile is forced, fingers stiff around the edges of his phone. He hasn’t said more than two words to JJ, who’s mere feet away. It’s awkward… painfully so. But what’s new between the two of them? Your husband never forgot how much he hated him. And now? Now that guy’s kid is dating his baby girl.

It’s hard to imagine this would be a bigger deal… And it would be, if the kid wasn’t a literal angel: polite, gentle, thoughtful, smart; a D1-bound quarterback. He’s good. But try telling Rafe that.

Your daughter squeals, adjusting her corsage, leaning into her boyfriend with the biggest grin on her face as the limos pull up. She gasps, eyes snapping to you. “Oh my God. Mom, I forgot my clutch!”

You look over at Rafe, lost in his own world as he looks between the young couple and his archenemy, going through his own existential crisis; jaw clenched, eyebrows drawn together like this is all somehow a personal attack on him. “Baby…”

“Mhmm…” He grunts as his eyes continue to survey the scene.

“… Baby?”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, meeting your eyes before drawing a deep, pensive breath.

“Just take a second. Take a breath… Get the purse.”

He gives you a look, lips drawing to the side, wanting to protest like he’s afraid if he lets his guard down for a moment the thoughts that he’s been stewing on will manifest. “Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, then turns and stomps toward the house.

You watch him disappear through the front door, then turn back to your daughter. The yard is buzzing with excitement, teens gathering their things as they wander toward the rented cars.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You look down at your phone, rolling your eyes as you see three back-to-back text messages coming in. “Where’s the purse, baby?” You mock his deep voice under your breath as you unlock your phone. Not surprised in the slightest that he’s stalling to prolong the inevitable.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The twins are bouncing with excitement, already changed into their pajamas, stuffed animals hugged tight.

Sarah’s in the kitchen grabbing snacks for movie night, laughing as your son climbs all over him like he’s part jungle gym, part superhero. Meanwhile, your daughter’s standing off to the side, arms crossed, Cameron-pout on full display—a full-blown daddy’s girl—not thrilled in the slightest about him leaving.

“C’mon now,” Rafe says, gently tugging her closer. “Be right back, princess. I’ll kiss you on the head when I get home, okay? I’ll be there in the mornin’ when you wake up.”

She narrows her little eyes at him, her buttoned-nose furrowed in frustration.

“I heard mommy’s makin’ blueberry pancakes for breakfast,” Rafe adds as he cocks an eyebrow, hoping for the best, his smile widening as her face lights up over something so simple.

“No way.”

“Way.”

“I am?” you ask through a laugh as you loop your arm through your purse, pulling it on your shoulder.

“She is,” Rafe confirms, shooting you a smile and wink. “Isn’t she the best?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as he kisses your daughter’s forehead and sends her off.

The you both step outside into the quiet; the cobblestone driveway glowing under soft light. Rafe reaches for your hand as the front door clicks shut behind you. You barely get a step down the private lot before he loops his finger under your dress and tugs the hem upward with a cocky smirk.

“Rafe!” You gasp, swatting his hand as your skirt falls back down, looking back toward the house with a smile.

“They didn’t see, pretty,” he murmurs, totally unbothered. “Besides I needed a distraction. My brain was spiraling again.”

“You’re not gonna lift my dress every time you start panicking about your daughter growing up.”

“I mean…” He steps a little closer, stuffing his hand in his pocket, the other draping around your shoulders as he dips down to press a kiss on your head. “I could just pull it down next time, get a glimpse of these,” he hums, reaching over to give your boob a playful squeeze, “for balance.” He lets out a sleazy little laugh as you giggle.

Rafe spins you around and pulls you in for a kiss: deep and sweet. The kind that says ‘sure, I might be losing my shit, but you’re my favorite way to come back down’. He opens the passenger door for you, still grinning as you slide into the car.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The two of you sit side by side at a table on the water. The twinkling lights strung from the patio of the Island Club swaying in the breeze. Dinner was delicious, drinks were flowing, and Rafe… was present.

You could see it in the way he stared out at the water for a second too long. The way he blinked back to you like he’d just remembered where he was, and even so he wasn’t deep in thought. Almost like he wasn’t clenching his fists or checking his phone every two seconds or trying to crack a joke to distract himself from the ache in his heart.

But even still, he was there with you. Holding your hand, letting you finish your wine without interruption. He ordered your favorite appetizer before you could, stole bites from your plate like it was his job, kissing you tenderly after every lingered glance.

At one point, you were both leaned back in your chairs, full and content, watching the last sliver of sun bleed into the horizon when he said, “She told me they’re headin’ to Lexi’s after prom.”

“She did?”

He nods, sipping his drink. “She didn’t need to tell me that… She’s seventeen. Fuck, baby, I mean I woulda lied for the hell of it. I sure as shit wouldn’t have told Ward where I was goin’. And she just told me—didn’t even need to ask.”

“Yeah, baby?” You hum as you tip your head on his shoulder; Rafe’s fingers twinning in yours. “What else did she say?”

“Bonfire, snacks; some movie, I don’t know.”

“What about Jackson? Are juniors and seniors gonna be there?” You question this time, feeling your own unease rise about her possibly mingling with upperclassmen.

“Just juniors. She said ‘he didn’t care… He just wanted to be with her.’”

“Sounds familiar,” you smile as you squeeze Rafe’s hand.

He gives you a look—the one he always does when he’s caught remembering being seventeen with you. “Hmm… Sounds about as much, sweetheart.”

“They’re sweet,” you say quietly as you snuggle in a little closer. “We raised a good one, Rafe.”

“She’s everything,” he breathes. “My stubbornness and your heart—”

“We get to do this all over again in a couple years.”

He groans like it hurt, but he smiles anyway. “Twins too… Better start stocking up on wine now.”

You glance down at your phone, thumb tapping the screen as you check the time. It’s late enough. The twins are definitely asleep by now—if not completely passed out in a pile of stuffies and blankets, at the very least curled up on the couch mid-movie with drool on Auntie Sarah’s shoulder.

You look at Rafe, swirling the last sip of his whiskey, that lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sees the twinkle in your eye; the man no doubt thinking about taking off the lingerie you teased him with earlier.

“So?” You ask, soft and suggestive as your foot brushes against his under the table.

“That time, huh?” He smiles as he pulls out his phone as well, checking it.

His brows furrow slightly. The smirk slips a little. Not in a full-blown way, just enough to make your stomach flip.

“What?” You ask as you lean in. “Did Sarah send something?” Rafe doesn’t answer right away. “What’s going on, baby?” You press again; still no answer.

You reach across the table and snatch the phone from his hand before he can stop you. Your eyes flick to the screen to check what’s going on, eyes widening on the screen as you see the flashing pin on a tracking app. And your daughter’s car, not where she said she’d be.

You stare down at his phone, then up at him. “Why are you tracking her, Rafe?”

“I don’t just track her, sweetheart. I track Max too… It’s a scary place out there, okay? Ya’ll are all I have,” he stammers. He takes a deep breath, blowing it out his nostrils as he tries his best to collect himself. “I’m trackin’ her because of this—”

“—Because she’s at the beach?” You question, letting your annoyance bleed through each word.

“She didn’t tell us she was going to the beach,” he says, voice tight. “So yeah, baby—that’s why I’m doin’ it.”

“Well, what now?”

Rafe tilts back in his chair, pushing out a shaky, uneven breath. “Guess we’re takin’ a trip to the beach—”

“Rafe…”

“If anything we’ll check and leave—”

“—Baby.”

“We will check. And, we will leave.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your purse. Rafe stands and tosses some cash on the table before looking down at you.

“Nothing more, baby. I swear. I’m not gonna enjoy my night if I don’t know that she’s safe. Just a piece of mind.”

“And what if you see something you don’t wanna see?”

He stops in his tracks looking at you like you just dropped a weight on his chest. “What do you mean by that?”

You arch a brow as you take his hand, rising to your feet. “I mean… you found a condom wrapper in her bathroom, Rafe. So again—I ask—what if you see something you don’t wanna see?”

Rafe runs a hand down his face, letting out a long, deep breath. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The two of you pull into the quiet parking lot, headlights cutting through the soft fog that’s rolled in off the water. It’s dark but not deserted—distant voices, the occasional pop of laughter, the soft flicker of firelight down by the shore.

Rafe leans forward, squinting out the windshield. “They’re probably hidin’ somewhere,” he mutters, tone edged with something sharp. “Thinkin’ he’s bein’ slick.”

“Mhmm…” You flick your hand lazily in their direction, spotting them almost instantly, right in plain sight.

The two of them are sat side by side in front of a small fire, shoes kicked off, a blanket pulled over both their legs. Winnie’s head tilted on Jackson’s shoulder.

Rafe exhales through his nose, and it’s not quite relief, but it’s not disappointment, either. And at that moment you realize he didn’t want to be right—he just didn’t want to be wrong either. You take out your phone, open your messages, and type:

You: Hope you’re having a good night sweetie. Be safe.

Barely ten seconds pass before your daughter’s phone lights up on the sand. You see her glance down at the screen, smile, and start typing back. Then your phone buzzes.

Winnie: we’re having a great night!

Winnie: we left the party because it got kinda crazy. Jax was worried it might get busted.

Winnie: we’re down to the beach

Another second later, she sends a selfie—her cheek pressed against Jackson’s, both of them grinning, firelight flickering. No red cups. No chaos. Just two kids who genuinely like each other, making a smart choice together.

Rafe’s jaw ticks as he looks at the photo. He leans back in his seat, sighing as the guilt hits him square in the chest.

“Goddamnit.”

“Mhmm…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just—I don’t know. This shit is hard,” he huffs.

You smile and reach over, lacing your fingers in his. “Why don’t we get out of here, baby… Go for a little drive on our way home.”

Rafe nods and pulls out of the lot, his jaw set, one hand tight on the wheel as the silence stretches between you. The engine hums low, but he doesn’t say a word.

He’s still wound up—his whole body carrying the weight of everything he’s been trying to hold back. The guilt, the stress, the slow ache of watching his little girl grow up. On top of that, work’s been brutal lately, you know it’s been eating at him, even if he won’t say it out loud.

You watch him quietly, the way the dim streetlights flicker across his profile: strong jaw, furrowed brow, tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up over his thick forearms you’ll never get tired of looking at.

Even tense like this, he’s still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen—and all you can think about is how badly you want to help him relax.

He glances over at you, still high-strung, blue eyes heavy with thoughts he hasn’t shared quite yet. He shifts in his seat, spreading his thighs a little wider, fabric stretching over them—and your gaze drops without hesitation.

Your breath hitches. All you can think about is straddling him right there in the front seat, grinding against him with your skirt bunched around your waist, the windows fogging, and music muffling your moans—

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” He asks, voice low.

You turn to him slowly, letting your voice drop into something warm and wicked. “You.”

His eyes flick to yours in surprise. “You’re thinkin’ about me?” He says, almost like he doesn’t believe it himself, half-expecting to be in that doghouse you were talking about earlier.

You smile, reach for his hand resting on the console, and guide it toward you. He exhales sharply, shoulders finally starting to drop, the tension melting into something else entirely. “You’re not mad at me, princess?”

You shake your head. “No, baby. I like when you’re protective. Can’t fault you for that. Maybe just calm down a little… Just a little.”

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with want.

“Wanna help you forget all those thoughts distracting you from me…”

“Distracting me from you? My girl? Impossible… But, please,” he says with a smirk, “make me forget.”

You lift his hand from your thigh, slowly, and press a kiss to the top of it—light and teasing, just like he would.

Then, with your eyes still on him, you part your lips and slip two thick fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tips. Rafe’s breath catches. He flicks another glance at you, then another, making the car sway gently.

You reach over, trailing your hand down his chest, feeling the heat and tension thrumming through his body. Your nails drag lightly down his shirt’s crisp, white fabric until you hit his thigh, scratching just enough to earn a quiet exhale from him.

Your fingers graze over his bulge—growing thick and heavy beneath his designer pants—and he shifts again, jaw clenched tighter, not from stress, solely to keep his eyes on the road and avoid them rolling back.

You lean in closer, the scent of his rich cologne washing over you. Your fingers work open his belt. The metal clicks softly before you slide the zipper down. Your heart pounds with the bass, excitement swelling in your chest as he barrels through the night.

He shifts in his seat, lifting his hips so he can shove his pants and boxers down. “You sure, baby?” He asks through a crooked smile as you grip his thick dick in your fist—hardening fast in your palm, long, pulsing with need.

Your mouth waters as you stroke him slow, teasing, your thumb brushing over the head. “I need it… Is that alright?” You ask coyly. Rafe’s cock twitches in your grip, his breath stuttering as you swipe your thumb across his tip, rubbing in a bead of precum.

“Fuck,” he moans as his head rolls slightly.

“You like that?” You ask.

“Yeah… Yeah, fuck. Keep goin’,” he mumbles, his eyes on the road, but barely.

Rafe reaches over; fingers slipping under your dress. He groans at how wet you are, teasing your entrance, pushing just the tip of his fingers inside. The pace you set with your hand mirrors his—slow and purposeful, a shared rhythm that leaves you both panting.

Click.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide across the center console. Before he can even register what’s happening, next you take him into your mouth; his cock hot and heavy on your warm tongue.

Rafe’s whole body jerks. He draws his fingers from between your thighs, slicked with your wetness, and sucks them into his mouth, the corners of his lips curling into a smile at the taste.

“Jesus Christ, baby…” His voice is thick and hoarse. “You’re perfect. Too fuckin’ good to me.” His hand comes down hard on your ass, the sting sharp, and your moan vibrates around him as he spanks you.

A second later, his fingers knot in your hair, guiding you, controlling your pace. “Atta girl,” he groans, hips lifting gently. “Fuckin’ take it—so desperate, huh? Couldn’t wait ‘til we got home?”

You hum in response, lips and tongue working him while your hand strokes what your mouth can’t reach. His moans start spilling out, competing with the music in the car.

“Gonna make me lose it,” he pants. “That’s what you want, huh? Gonna swallow it all? Don’t wanna get dirty, baby—” he mumbles, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as his leg bounces beneath your hands, breath rough and ragged, chest rising faster now.

“Shit, baby… I’m gonna cum—” You suck him harder, throating his cock until he’s cursing and twitching, praising your name as he slams his big fist against the steering wheel, spilling down your throat.

His body unwinds in the seat and his hold loosens on your hair. You pull off slowly, watching his cock throb still as he tucks himself in the waistband of his dress pants, hissing in sensitivity as he zips back up his pants, covering himself slightly with his jacket. He shakes his head, unable to wipe that wide smile off his perfect lips.

You sit up and smooth your hair in the visor mirror, licking your lips, catching the last of him as you giggle dizzily. He chuckles, low and lazy, as he rolls his head on the headrest, locking eyes with you. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

And then just as you lean over to press one last kiss on his lips the car’s screen lights up with an incoming call.

Deputy Shoupe

Rafe fumbles and swears under his breath on his way to accept the call, already assuming the worst. “Shoupe? Everything okay?”

“Rafe. We got a little situation down at the yacht club. Someone called in a report—female screamin’. Thought it might be a domestic or worse. Turns out… Uh, well… We found your son and that Thornton girl entangled on your yacht.”

Rafe freezes; eyes beating a few times slow as he takes it all in. “Max?”

“Yes, sir. A bag of weed, a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle, and a pocket full of Magnums—”

“—Dude. You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me right now,” your son snips as he cuts the officer off. “You’re seriously cockblockin’ me? This is harassment. We’re on my boat. S’Private property. I can’t help it if we got a little loud, alright? That’s between me and her.”

“I’m fine… Obviously,” Topper’s daughter sasses as well, her Cali-girl, vocal fry that pours through the car speakers like nails on a chalkboard.

Rafe’s jaw is locked, one vein in his temple pulsing so hard you can practically hear it. Rafe stares straight ahead, dead silent.

“You gonna arrest us for lovin’ each other now? Is that where this country’s at? You people are fuckin’ sick—”

“Tell him to stop talkin’,” Rafe sneers.

“Want me to tase him a little?” Shoupe chuckles.

Rafe mutters something under his breath making Shoupe laugh. There’s a beat of silence as you stare at Rafe, your husband staring right back at you. His features soften—the man hit with yet another wave of guilt—he was so hyper focused on your daughter that everything else flew out the window.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper.

He shakes his head ‘no’ and rolls his eyes, tipping his head back against the headrest.

“What do you two want me to do about all this?” Shoupe asks through another amused laugh.

“Fuck… Bring ’em into the station. Take the weed if you have to,” Rafe adds. “Leave the bottle.” You raise your brows at him and he just shrugs. “Kid’s a pain in my ass but he’s got good taste,” he mumbles. “I’ll be there in two-three hours,” Rafe finishes. “Got some shit I need to handle first.”

“Copy that.”

Click.

“We’re not gonna go get him?” You ask through a laugh as you glance back at Rafe.

He smirks, letting his hand slide higher up your thigh. “He’ll survive, baby. Might even learn somethin’… Right now, I need to take care of my girl.”

#rafe one shot 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹#rafe cameron #rafe #outer banks #obx #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #my library ᝰ.ᐟ #dilf!rafe #older!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #older!rafe #dad!rafe #⋆.°🧸๋ྀི࣭⭑ daddy #rafe cameron x reader

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fleuryns · 2 days ago

Text

PRINCESS TREATMENT ✶ 엔하

𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗥𝗔 ⨾ 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾

❪ 𝑜EUVRES ❫ 愛 𝑙'──엔하이픈 & 𝑓!reader ᵔᴗᵔ fluff scenarios headcanons non-idol au   114O established relationship use of pet names physical intimacy

🎬 . 니니 : enjoy gentlemen enha and have a wonderful weekend! please consider leaving a like and reblogging <33

HEESEUNG has become your personal chaperone ever since you started dating, because he insists on driving you everywhere. he takes you to your appointments and is always there to pick you up afterwards, looking at you like you're crazy when you suggest you could take the bus instead.

HEESEUNG loves to tie your heels for you, every time you wear them and ask him for help he's already sitting down to take your foot on his leg and gently close the little clip, caressing your calf in a swift motion before moving to the other leg, smiling softly to himself.

HEESEUNG takes you shopping anytime, gives you his wallet without a second thought and carries all your bags. if you hand them yourself, he'll quickly accept everything with a smile. but if you don't, he'll frown, gently taking them away. “don't strain your pretty hands with these” he mutters “that's my job”.

JAY works for hours in the kitchen just for you, to cook the things he knows you like. “i made your favorite” he says softly, eyeing your reaction expectantly. he's the happiest when you eat the food he cooked, always fulfilling your requests with a smile, no matter how crazy and difficult they are to make.

JAY is obsessed with and holds your hands at all times, like the true gentleman he is. he occasionally presses his lips softly on the back of your hand or on the inside of your wrist, in a feather-light kiss that leaves a tingling sensation on your skin, making you shiver.

JAY has developed a habit of serenading you at any given moment, and you want to curse whoever introduced him to the guitar. it started kind of as a joke, but now he's very much serious, spending time to carefully select his words and compose the prettiest melody for your ears and your ears only.

JAKE spoils you by buying whatever you want all the time, he allows you to drag him to endless shopping trips and pays for everything with a lovesick grin that shows just how happy he is to get you anything you want. whenever you end up in a store he ends up buying everything you touch without a word.

JAKE would drop anything he is doing if you ever so much call for him. you're his top one priority, because your well-being is also his. he has always his phone on for you, and he always picks up right away. his time is all reserved for his princess, if she wants it.

JAKE just helps you without being asked, sensing what you need like a sixth sense, maybe even before you even realize it. with him by your side, you won't struggle with anything anymore. when you're having trouble with something, he's by your side already and always reassures you with a smile that he's got it.

SUNGHOON carries heavy things for you with a shy insistence, because that's his job and he takes pride in that. he looks up at you when you call him, and he's by your side immediately, rolling his sleeves and getting ready to show off his strength, only for his princess.

SUNGHOON gets you flowers as a gift, no matter the occasion. even just randomly like that, he shows up to your place or to your dates with a fresh colorful bouquet. “pretty flowers for a pretty girl” he announces shyly, handing them to you, his smile growing when you accept them with a happy squeal.

SUNGHOON always finds an excuse to carry you. when it rains a lot and the street is filled with puddles he effortlessly scoops you in his arms silently. when your heels hurt too much he immediately picks you up bridal style despite your protests. “let me help you, baby, im strong enough” he mutters, keeping you close.

SUNOO makes sure to be slightly ahead of you when entering a place, always determined to open the door for you every time. even when you get in a car, he always opens your door first and makes sure you're comfortably seated before closing it and quickly moving to the other side to get in as well.

SUNOO takes your breakfast in bed often, chuckling at your sleepy surprised face even after all these times he's done it. he has all the food arranged neatly on the tray and he just watches you lovingly while you eat. he even occasionally brushes your hair away from your face so it doesn't get in your food.

SUNOO could never get mad at you. the things that usually annoy him when it's other people responsible for the deed, if it's you he doesn't even bat an eye. “it's okay, don't worry about it, angel” he reassures you softly, embracing you in his arms to prove his point.

JUNGWON lets you choose everything you do. he lets you choose the movie you watch, the food you eat, the place you go… he doesn't care that, every time, you end up in the same restaurant or watch the show you like a little too much. he really doesn't care because the smile on your lips could repay anything.

JUNGWON always pulls the chair for you when you sit down at a cafe or a restaurant, with a simplicity that brings butterflies to your stomach, but his smile hints that the action is very much purposeful. of course, he knows you could do it alone, but the feeling of getting to spoil you like that is unmatched.

JUNGWON makes you feel like royalty just with the right nickname. “my princess~” he muses at the most random moments, hugging you from behind or cupping your cheeks in his hands. the nickname is filled with such devotion that you can't help but melt a little.

RIKI gives you his jacket all the time. it doesn’t matter if he'll be cold, he finds you too cute drowning in his big jacket anyway. but he pretends like it's not a big deal, shrugging while putting his hands in his pockets to mask the fact that he's completely head over heels.

RIKI is always ready to make you feel safe, that's what you noticed after you started dating. he reassures you when you're scared, taking his knight in shining armor part very seriously. he pulls you in his arms and holds you there, whispering soft reassurances in your ear until you feel all better again.

RIKI 's eyes never leave your figure, he especially loves looking at you from across the room, just making sure you're comfortable and happy at all times. he hates when you're sad, he never wants you to be. and since big flamboyant acts of service were never his forte, he keeps an eye on you to make up for it.

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cameronsbabydoll · 1 day ago

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hi gorgeous!! i was wondering if u would be interested in writing a little fic with scc!rafe being forced into a tea party with his daughter?? 🥹

i need something sweet with them!! and im so obsessed with scc its so creative!!

tysm!

“daddy,” she calls from the hallway, “can you come here please?”

rafe’s already sitting on the couch, freshly showered and still tired from whatever work he’d dragged himself through that day. he grunts, not really looking up from his phone. “what?”

“just come here!” she chirps again.

and maybe he wouldn’t normally. maybe old rafe wouldn’t even flinch.

but she’s got her mama’s voice — that lilting, sugar-dipped tone — and that’s always been his weakness. so he groans and pushes up with a sigh. mutters something about “this better not be some stupid game again” under his breath.

and he rounds the corner into her room — then stops dead in the doorway.

the tea party setup is extensive.

a fuzzy pink blanket laid out across the carpet. three plastic chairs, mismatched and short. barbies sitting in two of them. a dozen tiny cups and saucers lined up with plastic pastries. and right in the center, his daughter in a tutu and glitter heels, holding a tiara.

“you sit here, daddy,” she says, patting the only chair that could maybe hold him.

“absolutely not,” he says flatly.

but you’re already in the hallway, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, smiling so sweet it makes his jaw tick.

“just for ten minutes,” you say, and your daughter is beaming now.

he mutters “fuckin’—fine.” as he sits down — legs cramped, knees almost to his chest — the chair creaking in protest while his daughter places the tiara gently on his head.

“you’re a princess now,” she says seriously.

“i’m a fuckin’—”

“daddy!” she gasps. “you can’t say bad words at a tea party.”

he shuts his mouth. narrows his eyes at you as you silently laugh behind your hand.

ten minutes turns into twenty.

his daughter pours imaginary tea into his cup with careful hands. tells him he has to try the “cake” (which is just a plastic sponge). and when she leans against his arm and sighs, “i love tea parties with you, daddy,” he doesn’t even groan.

he just hums and puts an arm around her, careful not to knock over the barbie sitting beside him. plastic tiara still crooked on his head. socks half off.

and when you peek in a little later, baby on your hip, you don’t even try to tease him.

because your husband — grumpy, tired, and still very much rafe — is sitting cross-legged in a glittery hell of tea cups and doll shoes, letting his daughter braid his hair with mismatched barrettes while he pretends to sip air from a cup the size of his thumb.

and he doesn’t even look mad about it.

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muqingslover · 2 days ago

Note

Your latest fic destroyed me (in the best possible way, im weak to angst) and I've been binge reading the other stuff you have here in order to console myself lol (love it all btw!!)

What I wanted to ask is, what features do you think lads' kids would inherit from them? In the case of the guys that want kids ofc. I have this hc that Caleb's genes are stubborn af, and all his kids have his eye colour copy paste. (If you're open to requests, that is!!)

[ Thank you for your kind words anon! 💕💕 I'm always happy to hear that you guys enjoy my work! For those who are curious, this is the fic anon is referring to!

Your request ended being quite short though bc there really wasn't much for me to elaborate (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ I've mentioned before I don't see some of the boys with children, but I did them anyway for you to make up for the length! ]

⊹ His physical traits gene is like a Russian roulette, but his personality genes are unbeatable.

⊹ If Xavier was to have children they'd be as sleepy and clingy as their father.

⊹ They miiiight get his hair color, but the rest? A carbon copy of you.

⊹ I also feel like his children would be really whiny in a super cute, not annoying-toddler way.

⊹ The most adorable puppy eyes and pouty face. It feels impossible to say no to them.

⊹ The strongest genes known to man.

⊹ His children are literal copy-paste of himself. White hair, red eyes, dragon traits, ECT.

⊹ They however have your personality plus are also very, very high energy.

⊹ He absolutely adores them of course, but Sylus would ask to keep trying until he gets a mini version of yourself. What can he say, he loves you.

⊹ Oh and they're super high maintenance, much more than most kids. The twins do very little to actually help and just add to the chaos for most part.

⊹ The perfect balance of the two of you.

⊹ The little girl would have his green eyes with your hair and is just gorgeous.

⊹ The personality is a mix of both, except she is as smart as her father.

⊹ If you're an extroverted then she might be more outgoing compared to Zayne, though still enjoys sitting and playing by herself.

⊹ Annoying father = Annoying children.

⊹ Okay okay I'm joking! Kind of. The children all get his purple hair and dramatic flair.

⊹ And that my friends results in the little ones and their dad to butt heads all the damn time.

⊹ The only person they listen to is mommy, including Rafayel.

⊹ The mermaid lineage is also very strong so invest in a much bigger bathtub and prepare your heart for the water bill.

⊹ I totally agree with you that this man's genes are very stubborn.

⊹ You get a literal duplicate of him when that sweet little boy is born, personality and all.

⊹ This extends to his obsession with his mama and their silly banter over who gets to cuddle you to sleep. (He lets the little one wins because his heart is weak)

⊹ Personally though? Caleb wants a perfect mix of the two of you if you're willing to keep trying.

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heesmiles · 3 days ago

Text

I was sent this fic to read because it I love love love regency era so I'm so ready for this !!!!!!!

Prepare for a long reblog because I'm buckling up!!

PARK JONGSEONG HAD ALWAYS BEEN RESPONSIBLE. Poised, smart, calculated. Direct with his words, never saying more than necessary to get his point across. He operated quietly and discreetly, mostly in the shadows so as to keep you safe. - and this is exactly how I like it!!!!! a quiet man is a fine man.

Neither of you really know. It's like a winding rollercoaster ride, and your fate is the cruel operator that never lets either of you get off. - god I love this quote...the wording is beautiful!!

He finds it hard to remind himself that it's just a job when you softly christen him with the petname my heart. - MY HEART STOPNDKNKJNS SCREAMIINGGGGG

You're everything to him. - what if I cry and die inside

However, the King once arrived on foot, guiding his horse by the lead and talking gently. Usually he'd be atop his horse, but instead – you were sat upon it. You wore a simple, champagne dress with ivory bows along the belled sleeves, and your hair was worn pinned back. You were smiling brightly, your eyes wide as you took in the greens of the forest and the spots of the sunlight on the forest floor, the chirps of the birds gathered in trees high above. - this lore is so good omg

"That's a shame…I'll take these, then." You sounded disappointed then, as you picked up the large crate of blackberries. Your father swept to your aid, grabbing the wooden crate quickly and firmly attaching it to the side of the horse's saddle. You smiled softly, "How much do I owe you?" - she's so cute I really like her a lot.

"For you. I made it." He took it gingerly, "Thank you." You only nodded, stepping away from the shop. "Enjoy." - STOP IM OBSESSED WITH THEM WHATT

My father seems to like you. He doesn't like anyone. Should I expect you at the suitors' ball this winter? – Y/N ♡ - I would die for them not gonna lie

He was the one to find your father – bloodied and bruised at the base of the mountains, his sword tossed into the flowing river and his fingers nearly purple with frostbite. The remaining soldiers gathered with him, word spreading to those from Fort Allingham that the target had been hit. It made his stomach turn. He tried what he could – the warmth of a fire, muddling medicinal herbs into a paste…but he slipped away by morning. - NOOO STOP. that's sad....

Nights that you spent away from it all, deep in the forest. Wading in the river, your hands blistered from climbing the rocks that lined the streams. Your face swollen from crying, your back covered in the thick pelt that once belonged to your father. It was all you had left. - my poor baby I'm sobbing....

Dinner with his parents was very quiet that night, with only a murmured apology from him as he cleared the table. His mother insisted he had to do what he felt was right, that his duty was to his heart. But where has his heart led him? - EEEKKEKE TO YOU OFC

me looking at the screen rn

"The loss of her father has left Y/N incredibly fragile." The Queen started, her pen gripped tightly in her trembling hand. "She's not the same, which was to be expected. She feels it's her fault." - my poor baby I want to hug her so badly omg

It had been discovered a few weeks after your father's death that he, too, had been killed in the ambush. By none other than the first born son of Desrosiers – and with no heir to the throne of Fort Allingham, the Queen of Fort Allingham took over and cut ties with both kingdoms. The land was up for grabs, and your mother traveled to Desrosiers when you were sick to settle things. - THE LOREEEE THE LORE COME ON

"We've lost the war." Jay finished for her, and she nodded. "It's not her fault. She has to know that, deep down somewhere." - stop he's so perfect and I love him so bad

"I missed you, baby. But you know we can't keep doing this." He laments, feeling his heart sink as he feels you pout, your breath warm against his chest before you nod. - I'm in love with them

"But I've missed you." He whispers against your lips, "I've missed my pretty girl." - MY PRETTY GIRL STOP I'M CRASHING OUT

"No." You move back, your nose bumping his as he meets your eyes. "I love you." "I love you." He mumbles back, before you press your lips to his chastely. Once, twice, three times. "What did you do today?" - I'm so soft is anyone else so soft

You'd be Queen, and he'd be left to yearn behind the scenes. - no I don't accept that so

And just for this moment, you're not the Princess of Decelis. You're not the princess of anything, you're nothing but his. His to hold, to cherish, to love. His to kiss and worship, to kneel before and ask forgiveness for his sins. The queen of his heart. - QUEEN OF HIS HEART IM SOBBING PLS

"You don't just get love. You earn it. You earn every caress, every kiss, every moment of companionship. That boy…you've won him over so dearly. He's kind, and gentle. He's responsible and I know he'd love you until the end of your days." - YES FINALLLY A GOOD QUEEN YESS GAHHHH

"I know you're looking down, my heart. Do you think they'll marry? She'll miss you there." She stands, holding her crown in her hand before taking a deep breath and placing it atop her head once more. "But, I'll see you there. I know it." - I'm crashing out this is so bittersweet

"I'd give my life." He admits softly, her eyes softening. The Queen nods, and his eyes widen as she, too, bows at the waist with her eyes closed. "Then I give you my blessing to take her hand in marriage." She whispers, before straightening and folding her hands behind her back. "Through sickness and health, for richer or poorer." - I HAVE TEARS IN MY EYES THIS IS SO SWEET

"I told them that I was already betrothed." You mumble, making him groan slightly. "I don't believe in jinxes! So we're fine! It's fine!" - JINXES she's so cute I wanna hug her

"And yet, you're still the love of my life. Funny how that works, isn't it?" He grins as you pout, your eyes filling with tears as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the gold bands that belonged to your mother. "She gave me these." - I'm screaming crying and throwing up

"I love you, you know that?" He starts, "You are the softest, purest form of love I've ever been subjected to and I don't think I could ever fathom a life where I don't come home to you every single night. I love you when you're sick and throwing a fit because it's too hot, I love you when you hog the blankets in my room even though you're technically not even supposed to be in there." - MAY THIS LOVE RUN ME OVER WITH A MONSTER TRUCK

"Do the tongue thing, yes." "Lock my door. We may be engaged, but I'm still a lady." - HELPPPP

"Mhm, mhm." His fingers curl around the waistband of your underwear, "Have you tried detrimental to? Maybe ghastly?" - my precious babies

Jay was everything to you, and you felt ease knowing it could now forever rest at the forefront of your mind – because he is proof that you can win the battle, and conquer the world. - this fic made me delusional....I have a chance with him.....I too can be a princess....I can marry jay...

me touching grass and feeling air after how delusional this fic made me .....it was so good and so sweet and ugh I love the romantic feeling of the regency era...yes I loved it. Thank you for the recommendation.

losing the war 🥀 p.js [m]

synopsis: even when the world seems bleak, he can't help but try and prove that love still exists. the love you yearn for exists, because he is full of it - and so are you. genre: regency au ; "forbidden" love au ; angst, fluff, smut. pairing: royal guard!park jongseong x princess!reader word count: 15k (and i'm not sorry about it!!) rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: mentions of: death (non-descriptive), blood/injuries, war, illnesses. swearing, mentions of food/eating. mentions of trauma/grieving. reader and jay are so in love it's disgusting LOL. smut warnings: mentions of pregnancy, making out, brief grinding. virginity loss (both). oral (f.rec), fingering (f.rec), slight nipple play, brief handjob. biting, hair pulling, slight body worship (f.rec), unprotected sex in missionary because i said so, creampie (because they're stupid.) petnames (baby, my heart/love, etc.) what to listen to: yours - conan gray ; always - bon jovi ; salut d'amour - edward elgar ; heaven's cloud - seventeen ; step to my girl - souls of mischief ; do i wanna know - hozier. author's note: [misc dividers] by @/saradika here on tumblr! well, we're back with the 6th installment of enhypen birthday fics! granted, this one is by far the longest and the latest, as it is now officially two days after jay's birthday :( i'm sorry! it normally wouldn't take me this long, but things happened and also it was easter sunday so...it's fine! as always...happiest birthday to my jaybie. i love u!

PARK JONGSEONG HAD ALWAYS BEEN RESPONSIBLE.

Poised, smart, calculated. Direct with his words, never saying more than necessary to get his point across. He operated quietly and discreetly, mostly in the shadows so as to keep you safe.

Your mother ran the Decelis Kingdom like the Navy. Everything and everyone had a place, and she expected them all to be there when she strolled the halls at night. Never once did she walk past your room and not see him posted outside the door, alert and ready to protect the princess at all costs.

He doesn't care that you're a princess, or the princess, really. To him, it's supposed to be a job. A person to protect, to feed, to take care of until you're moving onto the next big thing.

What is the next big thing for you?

Neither of you really know. It's like a winding rollercoaster ride, and your fate is the cruel operator that never lets either of you get off.

He's never at rest when he's with you. He sleeps when he can, but never lets his fatigue show in front of your mother and his fellow guards. He never lets his shoulders sag, he never lets his eyes get low as he follows behind you to wherever you're going.

He finds it hard to remind himself that it's just a job when you softly christen him with the petname my heart.

He finds it hard to remind himself that it's just a job when you pull him into the library, and sit on the thickly carpeted floor. You always make him sit with his back to the wall, your dress brushing his thighs as your hands splayed gingerly across worn leather books and yellowed pages. He finds it hard to remind himself it's just a job, when you whisper that he can sleep, and you'll wake him if you hear your mother. He finds it hard to remind himself that you're just part of his job when he wakes up to your warm hand gently patting his cheek, finding he's fallen asleep and resting his head on your shoulder. You always smile warmly as he opens his eyes tiredly, your laugh is soft as you ask him if he's feeling well rested.

The answer is always no, but he never says it.

You're the kindest person he's ever had the pleasure of meeting. You're not soft spoken by any means – always assertive, always dominating the conversation when it comes to anything that has to do with your kingdom. You're flirty, even if you don't realize that your words mean more than meets the eye. You're generous, smart, beautiful…you're…everything.

You're everything to him.

And he knows better than to ever let that be a thought at the forefront of his mind, even when you give yourself to him so willingly. Even when your lips trace the slope of his neck, when your moans fill his ears and make him feel insane.

Even when you make him feel loved.

Amongst the positive attributes you have, you have a few bad habits in the eyes of your mother. The Queen has no problem with reprimanding you – her hand often carrying a wooden ruler that pats your chin gently when you speak out of turn, lightly tapping the small of your back if you're slouching. Just as the Queen is strict, she is gentle, she is fair.

The Queen was once bright. She wore the brightest, most colorful of dresses – pearlescent satins, shimmering tulles, beaded and sequined. She was the prettiest flower in the garden, the warmth of her smile being felt for miles throughout the kingdom. She was the sole collector of all the books in your library, the seamstress of all your dresses, the sole ruler because the kingdom was only ever truly hers – and soon, yours.

Of course, all good things come to an end.

He grew up just outside of the kingdom, his family settled in a soft cottage in the thriving forest surrounding the castle. During his younger years, he awoke every morning to the sound of horses trotting past, the sound of your mother's skilled hunters chasing after deers and elk. He and his father would often go foraging, bringing home their own catches – rabbits, salmon speared at the flowing river. Every once in a while, they managed to pelt the unsuspecting deer, his heart always sinking in his chest as he watched their eyes lose their light.

He became a skilled hunter despite the sinking feeling, and easily manuevered his way through the forest on foot. His father made a bow and arrow set for him on his fifteenth birthday, and it'd been put to use for many years since – birds, squirrels, even the occasional frog.

His mother was an apothecary that managed a small shop and garden out of the back of their cottage. She sold the wild berries and any herbs Jay and his father managed to forage, and that was how he met your parents. Your father was incredibly ill, draped across a mighty steed that your mother steered to the best of her ability in her state of distress.

As it turned out, your mother had grown up with his – and trusted no one more than her to help your father. They stayed in his cottage, in his bedroom, for three days and three nights.

After he recovered, your mother tried to pay a hefty sum of gold. His parents adamantly refused, and through the door of his bedroom he heard his mother ask that the Queen take care of him, should he ever need something. A job, education, something.

And your father agreed, without hesitation.

But there was still a heavy sack of gold sitting in the corner of his home when he woke up the next morning.

When he thinks about it, the King was an insane visual compared to your mother. He dressed in nothing but black, his shoulders covered by a thick bear's pelt and feet clad in heavy boots. His knuckles were almost always smeared with dirt and blood, and his voice was gruff and intimidating to the unfamiliar. He was scary to most of the townspeople with his dark eyes and solemn face, and they cowered in his presence – but he never, ever scared him.

Your father admired that.

The King became a frequent visitor at the shop Jay's mother ran. He bought berries almost exclusively, and usually the entire stockpile. Jay remembers his life being slightly easier during those times – and he felt it in the way his parents wouldn't hesitate to buy any book he picked up during their visits to the market on the weekends. He felt it most when he'd have warm soups to eat during the winter when berries and herbs were scarce.

Your eyes landed on him, covered in dirt and carrying a deer on his back. He remembers the way his heart lurched – and he nearly fell under the weight of the cervid. And he remembers the laugh that slipped from your mouth as your father stopped in front of the shop. It was so beautiful, hidden behind your hand and so melodic.

"Jongseong! Good to see you, son. Is your mother in?"

He couldn't reply then, watching the way your lips shaped around your silent repetition of his name. He remembers blinking, clearing his throat.

"Your Majesty. My mother is at the market this weekend, I've been left to tend the shop. Is there something I can get for you?" He'd dropped the deer on the workbench with a grunt before turning around to tend to your father, only hearing your voice as you pulled at your father's pelt.

"He's cute."

He felt his cheeks grow hot, his eyes darting away as he stood behind the display of berries and pretended he didn't hear you. He remembers the way your father rolled his eyes, a smile gracing his features. He'd never seen your father smile.

"Go on, pick your poison." He'd helped you off the horse, your hands folding behind your back as you approached the display. Jay couldn't help but follow the glow of your dress in the spotty sunlight, before your father cleared his throat behind you.

"It's her birthday." He said warmly, and Jay remembers the way you rolled your eyes as you picked a blackberry from the display, rolling it between your fingers.

"It's not that special. He always makes it a big deal." Your gaze was playful, but your words were serious. "It's really just another day."

"Isn't every day we rise with the sun worth celebrating?"

You stopped then, your teeth sinking into the delicate flesh of the berry in your hand as you glanced up at him. Your father laughed heartily behind you, before you tilted your head.

"Will you be coming to the feast tonight? My father has invited the whole of the kingdom."

Your eyes were expectant, and he shifted slightly under your gaze. Your father had the same eyes, albeit darker.

"I can't make it, Your Highness. I've got prior committments." He had jerked his thumb in the direction of the deer, making you nod. "That's a shame…I'll take these, then." You sounded disappointed then, as you picked up the large crate of blackberries. Your father swept to your aid, grabbing the wooden crate quickly and firmly attaching it to the side of the horse's saddle. You smiled softly, "How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. Have a safe trip back, have a nice birthday." He shook his head, giving you both a curt bow before turning on his heel and disappearing into the shop. He heard the horse trot off moments later, murmurs shared from you and your father too muffled to digest.

However, even as nightfall came and went – he couldn't get you out of his mind. The gentle slope of your neck, the shimmer of thin beeswax on your lips. A small, gold locket resting on your chest over your dress, with the crest of the kingdom engraved into it.

The softness of your eyes. You returned the next day, this time, only accompanied by your horse. You donned a dark green dress with gold flecks across the fabric, your hair in disarray around your face as you slowed to a stop in front of the shop. He was drenched in sweat, the midday heat exhausting as he lugged firewood towards the cottage. His mother had just arrived for lunch, wrapping an apron around her waist as you rung the bell in the window.

"Princess! What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

His back tensed as he packed the wood in the corner of the kitchen, only to hear his name slip from your lips.

"I've just brought something for…Jongseong." He still remembers his mother's face of surprise when she called for him, his cheeks flushed from the heat (or so he tried to convince himself) as he made his way over. "Yes?" "The princess is here for you, son."

She slipped away then, leaving you in his presence alone. He tilted his head, before realizing you had a box in your hand, wrapped in a soft green bow. You held it out to him, a smile gracing your lips.

"For you. I made it." He took it gingerly, "Thank you."

You only nodded, stepping away from the shop. "Enjoy."

He didn't explain anything to his parents as he slid the small box on the kitchen table, their eyes curious as he unwrapped it to the sound of your horse bolting in the distance. It was a tart – lemon curd with blackberry preserve swirled throughout in a shortbread crust. There was a note attached to the side of the box, but he shoved it in his pocket to read in the privacy of his room later that night.

My father seems to like you. He doesn't like anyone. Should I expect you at the suitors' ball this winter? – Y/N ♡

He didn't see you again after that, the seasons moving forth as if he'd never met you.

The suitors' ball would not happen, either.

He was soon awoken by royal knights banging his door down – on orders from the Queen to gather all able-bodied young men to fight in an ambush in the wooded mountains, brought forth by Fort Allingham claiming a broken alliance with the King. Despite his mother's protests, he went – wide eyed and scared, but he trusted himself. He trusted his knowledge of the woods and his skills as a hunter would get him through it.

They say even the mighty fall.

He felt dirty; covered in splatters of blood of men he'd never met. Men who had families, surely, and it haunted him. He wanted to close his eyes and end the nightmare of it all – fallen bodies, the crimson brew of life seeping through clothes and into patches of grass sprouting through the thick layers of snow atop the mountains, the feeling of the arrow's pile that speared through his shoulder. He wanted to hide, to cower, to unsee all he'd lived the moment he left the cottage. The worst of it all?

He tried what he could – the warmth of a fire, muddling medicinal herbs into a paste…but he slipped away by morning. He could only picture you and your mother's faces as he and the remaining soldiers walked for three days to return to the limits of the kingdom. He held nothing on his back but your father's pelt, the bloodied sword and his bow. He carried it like it held all the weight in the world to him, because he knew it would to you.

He remembers the crestfallen look on your mother's face as he and the soldiers hobbled into the throne room. They all knelt before her, the pain in his face evident as he tried to hold the bloodied sword over his head.

That was the last time he saw your mother wear something bright. A cream dress that glittered in the early winter sunlight, a singular tear stain on the skirt.

The soldiers had their injuries treated by town apothecaries and fed by the palace cooks while the townspeople were in mourning. The death of the King took a toll on them all – and a flourish of stories of his kindness spilled from every crevice of the kingdom. Your father was well loved and your mother proved it – a three-day feast was thrown in his honor, all of his favorite dishes displayed across the palace courtyard. Nights of loud music, drinking and dancing.

It was all you had left. Your mother asked him to work for the kingdom soon after. She practically begged, in fact – and Jay went home to think about it. He spent the rest of the winter there – coping with the loss, with the fear, with his pain. He took the time to relearn to use his bow with his injured shoulder, he shoveled snow from the pathway to the cottage. He spent his nights in the warmth of his room, reading and reading the books he'd collected, and sitting on the decision of whether or not to go forth to the palace.

Until the winter solstice brought the Queen barreling back to his cottage, seeking his mother and her medicine once more. This time, for you – your skin was sweltering even as you were stripped to nothing in a warm bath, your lips chapped from the dry winter air. His room was once more taken, with your mother glued to his windowsill and staring at the falling snow. The sound of your pained groans made his chest hurt as he pressed cool compresses to your face and neck through the night – waking up to your mother gone and a sore neck from sleeping in a cot.

You stayed for two days longer, his mother carefully and quietly tending to you. She fed you warm soups with lots of garlic and ginger, hot feverfew tea with honey and lemon, even drawing you hot baths to soak in. She had Jay rub analgesic oil into your scalp after your baths, and the repeated stroking would ease you to sleep.

It was on the third day that your mother returned, her hands gripping a dark blue dress in hopes you'd be feeling better. You were still stricken with fatigue, but you managed to make your way out of the cottage with a weakened thank you. Your mother once more asked Jay about coming to work for her at the palace as she helped you climb onto the horse, your cloak just thick enough that the winter air didn't make you shiver too much.

And, he agreed. Without hesitation, without much thought – he told your mother he'd report to the palace in one week.

But where has his heart led him? It's gotten him an injured shoulder. It's shown him death, up close and personal. It's shown him how deeply a person can mourn, how thoroughly the end of life can rip someone to shreds.

Nevertheless, he packed his clothes and his favorite books, and he went. He was stationed in the room next to yours, the constant warmth and hearty food a luxury he yearned for his parents to experience. He didn't check in with you, instead finding your mother in her study – in a long, black dress.

He then learned that you were his assignment.

"The loss of her father has left Y/N incredibly fragile." The Queen started, her pen gripped tightly in her trembling hand. "She's not the same, which was to be expected. She feels it's her fault."

The Queen went on to explain why – you'd told your parents that you weren't one with the idea of an arranged marriage.

Your father had been the first born son of the King of Fort Allingham – and it was only by chance that the Queen had fallen in love with him. They'd met at the suitors' ball many some years ago when it was your mother's turn to inherit the throne – and had become immediately enamored. It worked well in your grandparents' favor, as they had long been in bad standings with the opposing kingdom over unclaimed land.

The marriage between your parents meant a truce, that said unclaimed land would remain untouched.

Desrosiers, named aptly after the rose gardens that spread vast and wide across their land – was another kingdom just south of Decelis that also had ties to the same plot of unclaimed land. The truce there?

You'd marry their first born son. It'd been set in stone by your grandparents, and was something your parents had been looking for a way out of since before you'd even known about it.

However, the marriage between your parents was untraditional – the Decelis throne belonged to your mother, and as the only heir, there wasn't any way she'd give it up. Your father moving across kingdom lines raised some concerns, but at the end of the day – it was marriage, and it meant peace.

Your father's youngest brother became the King of Fort Allingham shortly after your father's departure. However, he was never fond of the fact that your father left. Something about betrayal, something about treason – but over all, your father had something that he wanted.

Your mother's love.

He, too, had been at the suitors' ball that winter so many years ago. He too, yearned to dance with your mother in the low light of the ballroom, to earn her affections, to be hers.

They say greed is the root of all evil – if he couldn't have your mother, no one could. He didn't care about the land, it was truly only a bonus.

The Prince of Desrosiers had no interest in marriage, and willingly gave up the idea of a truce with your kingdom if it meant he got the land. No devil in the details, no exceptions, no ifs, ands or buts.

"She told me that she feels that though she may have won the battle��" The Queen hesitated, clearing her throat as tears filled her eyes. She blinked them back, tonguing her cheek. "We've lost the war." Jay finished for her, and she nodded. "It's not her fault. She has to know that, deep down somewhere."

"I don't know anymore. I know it's a lot to ask, too. She needs to be waited on hand and foot, and I can't lose my composure. I have a kingdom to run." The Queen had gestured to the air around her, making him nod in understanding.

"All I ask is that you…nuture her. Keep her company, get her outside. Show her that love still exists, even if the world seems bleak. It's not her fault. It never will be."

"I will try my best, Your Majesty." And, that led him to this point. By your side, at all hours of the day.

It'd been two years since then, and you'd seemingly progressed – you drifted through the gardens, you settled on the carpet in the massive library. You visited his parents with him, and they treated you like their own. He taught you how to hunt and forage, and often caught you lingering at the end of the riverbend. Your feet in the water, your hands clutching your dress high so as to not get it wet. You closed your eyes, taking in the soft song of the birds flying through the trees and the chitter of the squirrels.

And he couldn't hear you cry yourself to sleep through the door anymore.

Instead, he was subjected to your soft looks and subtle comments. You'd sweep his hair out of his eyes, you'd adjust the hood of his cloak. You'd lean into him a little too deeply when he helped you fix your posture while shooting arrows. You'd bake him things, read him things, even ask him to sit outside with you deep in the night to stare at the stars. You'd point out the brightest one, and say it was your dad.

He hated the way his heart warmed up to you. You'd always been something interesting – from the very moment he met you that fated day at the shop. He wondered, still, if you would have chosen him if the suitors' ball had happened, and if your father would've given him his blessing.

He wonders if you feel the same things he does when he bids you goodnight – the yearn to kiss your lips softly, to lay next to you and hold you close. To breathe you in, become one with your soul and feel the fire of a million bursting suns.

He wondered then if you wanted him, too.

He wouldn't have to wonder for long.

"PRINCESS, IT'S LATE. YOU SHOULD BE SLEEPING."

Jay's voice was stern as you tugged him out of bed, still awake as the clock struck two in the morning. The moonlight was seeping through his open window, and you only pouted as you stomped your foot. He sighs, setting his book down on the nightstand to give you his full attention.

"First of all, I told you to stop calling me that. I'm Y/N to you. Or, baby." You climb onto the end of his bed with a wink, and Jay only groans, falling back against his pillow and grabbing the other to hold over his face. "Second of all, come on! I haven't seen you all day!" Jay gives another grunt into the pillow as you jump up and down the empty side of the bed, before throwing it back. "Because I went to go see my parents, and you didn't wanna come!"

You stop jumping, a sly smirk sliding onto your lips as he sits up abruptly.

"Don't you dare. Someone could hear you." He points a menacing finger at you, but you only laugh as you sink onto the soft bed. "Y/N." "Ooh, I like it when you say my name like that. So scary." You're teasing him, knowing it'll get him to do whatever it is you want without a fight as long as it means you'll get the hell out and shut the fuck up. Granted, he always wants to do what you ask of him, he just likes the little game of cat and mouse.

"What do you want? Quickly, I'm tired." He runs his hand over his face, before carding his fingers through his hair and pushing it off his face. He doesn't like the way you nibble on your lip before you look over at the door, his cheeks growing hot as you scamper off his bed to lock the iron knob. He raises a brow, attempting to appear nonchalant as you also close his window.

"It gets hot in here, why would you do that?" He feigns interest in your actions as you walk back over, rolling your eyes as you climb back onto his bed. You push the covers down, sliding in next to him. He instinctively moves over, the sheets cold beneath him as you snuggle into the warmth he's left behind.

"Spies." You shrug, fighting a smile as you lay your head on his pillow. He tongues his cheek as your hand traces shapes into his arm, before inching closer to rest your chin on it. You peer at him with the most charming look known to man, and he feels his resolve breaking.

"Y/N." "Jongseong." He sighs, before extending his arm out. You smile giddily as you snuggle into his side, your fingers ghosting over his bare chest. He wraps his own around your shoulders, gently poking your ribcage and getting a squeal out of you.

"You're horrible for my health, you know?" He murmurs, before feeling you smile against his skin. "I missed you, Jjongie." You admit, your fingernails drawing featherlight patterns into his stomach. He allows it, but you know his senses are on high alert should your mother make a surprise nightly round and not find you in your bedroom.

"I missed you, baby. But you know we can't keep doing this." He laments, feeling his heart sink as he feels you pout, your breath warm against his chest before you nod.

"Is it love at all, if in the dark?" You ask, before looking up at him.

He nods slowly, "I think so. I don't think I'd ever want to exist in a world where you're not all I am."

He swipes your hair back, before softly pinching your cheek between his knuckles. You scowl, shoving it away with your own hand, but he interlaces your fingers. He brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the warm skin before holding your hand to his chest. "Don't do that." You mumble, your eyes softened as you pull your hand away reluctantly. He knows what you mean – don't kiss you. Don't kiss you if he's not going to kiss you everywhere, if he's not going to remind you that there will never be someone who loves you as he does. Even if hidden, even if both of you are so full of adrenaline any time you're under the covers together, you know it – the love Jay holds in his heart is uninhibited, it's unmatched, it's irrevocable.

And it's all yours, all for you.

"Mmh." He presses another to your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks.

"Jay. Stop." You huff, your skin growing hot under his lips as he plants a kiss on your nose. "But I've missed you." He whispers against your lips, "I've missed my pretty girl."

"Jay." You pull back, only for him to trail his lips down your neck softly. "This is not what I was looking to do tonight." "Are you complaining?" He nips at your clavicle, and you laugh softly as you shake your head. "No." You move back, your nose bumping his as he meets your eyes. "I love you." "I love you." He mumbles back, before you press your lips to his chastely. Once, twice, three times. "What did you do today?" "Mmh, wonderful question from thee Park Jongseong." You cradle his face in your palm, absently stroking his cheek with your thumb. "I had lunch in the gardens with my mother. The Queen expects much of my attention, you see. I'm a very busy woman." He snorts, "So busy." You grin, "Incredibly. I wasted away today, however, because the love of me wasn't here. I spent my hours locked away in the library like a princess held captive, reading books of lovers who never abandon their soulmate–" "You are so dramatic." He buries his face in your neck, sinking his teeth into the muscle of your shoulder as you yelp. "Be quiet, someone could hear you." "As if you're not sinking your teeth into me like I'm some piece of meat." You scoff, pushing his head away to reveal blushing cheeks. "And I'm not dramatic, you abandoned me." "I 'abandoned' you on my given day off, and I invited you! You wanted to lounge in bed all day." He protests as you tug at strands of his jet black hair, "You just want me when it's beneficial, I know you." "Not true, I want you all the time." You snort, before swinging your leg over his hip and pull him closer. You press a kiss to his lips, "I need you all the time." "Need me, huh?" "Now who's being dirty?" He only laughs, his hand sliding high on your thigh as he pulls you impossibly closer. He slots his lips with yours, feeling you melt into his touch carefully. He can taste mint and chamomile on your tongue as you slip it into his mouth, a soft whine from your throat as sucks on it gently. "I missed you." He breathes against your lips as he moves to hover over you, but you don't get a chance to respond as he settles himself between your thighs, your dress riding high on your hips as your lips meld with his. It's slightly desperate, like he hadn't kissed you in years – but still so full of love, of adoration, of yearning.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, earning a groan from his lips as he pulls your hands away from him, pinning them above your head with one of his own. He kisses down your jaw chastely, before his teeth tug at your earlobe.

"Behave." "Do the tongue thing." You pant out, feeling his teeth graze the skin of your neck again as he laughs. "Please, please–" "You don't have to beg." He soothes, his free hand moving to the underside of your thigh. You lamely clench around nothing as he keeps kissing your neck, down your chest before you feel his teeth pull at the buttons of your nightgown. "Jay." "So impatient, princess." You huff, opening your mouth to argue when his cool fingers ghost over your bare slit. A squeak leaves your throat, making him laugh as you try and buck your hips into his hand. He pulls it away, tugging at the fabric of your nightgown.

"Wanna see you, pretty. Can we take this off?"

You nod eagerly, sitting up quickly to pull it over your head. He shoves his pants down his legs, and tosses both items to the other side of the bed before pushing you onto your back, pressing a kiss to your lips. You jerk slightly as you feel the weight of his cock against your hip, your mouth watering slightly at the idea of it stretching you out.

It hadn't, yet. Ever, actually.

"I love you." "I love you, Jjongie."

He smiles, your cheeks growing hot as you feel his lips trail further. His hands are soft against your skin, gently rubbing your hips and sides. He trails up your breast, his tongue darting out from between his lips to flick against your nipple. Your hand immediately flies to his hair, tangling in the dark locks as he does it again.

"Feel good?" You can't respond, feeling almost embarrassed at how worked up you've gotten over almost nothing but kissing.

But it's not just kissing, is it?

It's missing him, wanting him. Hating the feeling of knowing this could be a secret for the rest of your life. You know he knows that's where your mind goes as he continues, because he thinks the same thing. It always floats back to you when you're bare in front of each other, baring more than just your bodies. Your hearts, souls. Everything you yearn to hold in your hands, and know you do – but only behind closed doors.

He's on the other side now, the slight scrape of his teeth on your pebbled nipple pulling you back to the moment and drawing a breathy sigh from your throat. Your free hand covers your mouth, before feeling him suck the sensitive bud between his lips. He rolls his tongue against it, earning shaky, bitten-back breaths and your grip tightening in his hair.

"J-Jay–" "Mmh?"

He trails down your body, peppering kisses on your soft belly with carefully timed nips of his teeth.

"So beautiful, my love."

He murmurs against your hip before he presses a chaste kiss to it. He always did it, for whatever reason, before his hands splayed on the underside of your thighs and pushed them up. You feel his lips trail the inside of your thigh, feeling his teeth sink into the plush flesh and ripping a moan from your throat. He laps his tongue against the marks of his teeth, before he really pushes your thighs up and away – and you feel a bit of shyness settle in your belly as he sighs.

"Fuck, baby." He leans in, making you jolt as his nose bumps your clit. He wraps his arms around your thighs, inhaling deeply before flattening his tongue against your pussy. You bite back your groan, your eyes rolling back as he laps at your wet cunt like he can't get enough. He's savoring you, and you feel your breath get caught in your throat as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. He lets you rock your hips into his face, his own slowly humping against the mattress at the sheer taste of you. Your pants of yes, yes, oh my God bounce off his ears before he slides his hand down, tracing your hole with a finger. He draws gentle circles into your clit with his tongue as he eases it inside you, and you feel embarrassed at the wet sound that you hear as he carefully works in another.

This is the fullest you'd ever been, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he makes a mess of you on his tongue. He curls them slightly, your thighs threatening to close around his head as you feel your belly fill with warmth. Your moans are slightly breathier as he pushes his fingers in and out of you, your vision spotty as he curls them perfectly into that spongy spot inside you.

"Jjongie." You whine loudly, your free hand moving to your chest. Your fingers trace over your nipple, still slick with his spit; your body writhing against his tongue and fingers with the added sensation. He hums into you, and you feel your body tense against his face, a choked whimper sliding out of you as your orgasm washes over you.

You feel his fingers slip out of you, the wetness being smeared on your thigh as he buries his tongue inside your sloppy hole. You can feel him moan into you, your senses in overdrive as he cleans you up, his lips placing a teasing kiss on your thigh before hovering over you. He presses a soft kiss to your mouth, your hand moving to the base of his neck to keep him in place as you slide your tongue into his mouth. You both groan as the taste of yourself fills your mouth, tart and heady in the back of your throat as you feel him press against your thigh unconsciously.

"Baby…want you." "You have me, sweetheart." You shake your head, your hand snaking between the two of you to touch him. His eyes flutter shut as your hand wraps around his cock, the tip dribbling with a bit of precum that you spread with your thumb. He lets out a shaky breath, rocking his hips into your hand when he hears you speak again.

"Want you inside me. Wanna feel you." You mumble against him, squeezing your hand around his tip. He groans, bucking into the sensation involuntarily.

The idea of going all the way had been on the tips of your tongues for months, since you started this, really. It was a flame neither of you dared to touch, but the desire for it only grew the more either of you denied it. You resorted to kissing, touching…his tongue between your thighs any time you had a handful of minutes. You only got to return the favor with your mouth if your mother was out of the palace the next day – which, unfortunately for the two of you, wasn't very often.

"You know why we can't." "I don't care, I want you."

Your eyes are wide and wet as you work him in your hand, feeling him shudder above you as you brush your lips against his cheek.

"Please. Please, my heart."

He sighs shakily, his eyes squeezing shut as you slow the pace of your hand.

"You'll tell me if I'm hurting you, right?" His forehead is rested on your shoulder, pushing your hand away from him. You nod quickly as he physically wipes your hand against the sheets before folding his fingers into it, and sighing. "And this doesn't…change anything, right? You still…" He trails off, and you press a kiss to his shoulder. "I love you, no matter what happens."

He nods against your skin, "Okay."

He steadies himself above you, letting go of your hand to spread your thighs gently. He breathes out, one of his hands moving to align the tip of his cock with your entrance, but you're still so wet from the first round that he slides between the folds. His tip kisses your clit, making your stomach cave in in a breath. Your hand claws at the sheets, gripping them tightly as he mumbles a dazed apology.

His brows are furrowed slightly as he does it again, watching the way you shudder at the feeling. He files it to the back of his mind, before lining himself up carefully. "Are you sure? We can stop any time. We can stop right now." He licks his lips nervously, but you shake your head. "Please, I'm ready. I want you, all of you."

He pushes forward carefully, his eyes fixed on your face. You smile softly at him, your hand reaching for his. He takes it gently, interlacing your fingers as he sinks in deeper. Your nose scrunches slightly, and he stops. You swallow slightly, squeezing his hand with a nod of your head. He moves a bit more, a soft whimper from your throat making him stop again when you shake your head, squeezing his hand again to signal that you're okay.

He sinks into you the rest of the way, trying not to close his eyes at the warmth of your gummy walls surrounding him. You let out a breath through your mouth, his hand on your thigh moving to trace circles into your clit. The way you clench around him nearly makes him fall forward, but the scrunch in your brows starts to dissipate the more he does it; before you move his hand, away. "Move, Jjongie." You whisper, before feeling him move to hover over you once more. His lips brush against yours gently, your hands cradling his face to kiss him. He uses the moment to pull out slightly, before pushing back in. You grimace, feeling his hand slide to your hip, squeezing as he kisses you again. He moves, trying to hold a groan back as you squeeze around his cock.

"Jay…" Your voice is breathy against his lips, and he sighs shakily before thrusting into you again carefully. You moan in his ear, feeling his head fall against your shoulder as your hands move to his back. You feel him mutter soft curses into your skin, whimpers filling your ears.

"I love you." You whisper as he peppers kisses along your skin, feeling your eyes water as you hear him say those precious words back. "I love you, my heart."

He feels so good, filling you to the brim with shallow thrusts that are somehow angeled perfectly to hit that spot inside you. Your legs wrap around his hips as a tear slides down your face, locking your ankles as the sound of your pussy swallowing him fills the room.

When you feel a wet drop on your neck, a muffled fuck in your ear as he thrusts particularly hard, knocking the wind out of you.

"Shit, I'm s–"

You silence him with your lips smashing into his, the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls so overwhelming that you feel dizzy. His movements grow slightly sloppy as your pussy flutters around him – the same familiar feeling in your lower belly growing as your nails dig into his back as he pulls away from your face and buries his nose in your neck. "Say you're mine." His voice is breathy, making you shiver as you nod eagerly, your voice nothing but a whine as you mouth at the small scar on his shoulder.

"Yours. Only yours." Your thighs tighten around his hips as you cum around him, a groan from his throat filling your ears as he spills inside you. He kisses the side of your neck tiredly, the shallow thrusting of his hips slowing to a stop as he carefully pushes off you.

Your pants fill the room, eyes fluttering closed as his hands knead the soft flesh of your thighs. "Are you okay?" He murmurs, hands moving to squeeze at your hips and sides. You nod lazily, humming in his direction as if asking the same. He nods in response, planting a soft kiss to your lips before carefully pulling out. You wince at the sudden emptiness, running a hand through your hair as you look to see he's slipped off the bed, rustling around his dresser. He returns with a towel, pressing a kiss to your knee before gently wiping you clean.

"You are absolutely terrible for my health, princess." He mutters, earning a scoff from you as you nudge his hip with your foot. He snickers, giving your side a soft pinch and making you squeal before swatting his hand away. "You love me, Park Jongseong." You retort as he smiles, tossing the dirty towel to the hamper. He nods, nuzzling his nose against yours as you pout. "Tell me you love me." "I do love you, angel. You know that." He gives you a pointed look as he lays next to you, before kissing your lips softly. "I will love you, until the end of my days. Don't pretend like you don't know I'd give my life for you." You huff as he pulls the blanket over you, his han on your back pulling you close. You allow it, swinging your leg over his hip and resting your head on his bicep. He presses a kiss to your hairline, your own lips peppering over his collarbone.

"What happens tomorrow?"

Your voice breaks the silence, and he sighs. He knows tomorrow starts a long week of festivities, ended by a Saturday morning gathering of the entire kingdom – for you to step up to the throne as Queen. Your mother had made it clear that the death of your father would not push back your growth within the kingdom, and you'd be taking over come Saturday morning. You'd be sat in your best dress, your hair swept back and donning your heaviest jewels. You'd be sat in front of the entire kingdom, presented with your mother's crown and her staff.

You'd be Queen, and he'd be left to yearn behind the scenes.

"I don't know, my love." "I won't marry if it's not you, you know." "I won't either. You know that."

He looks down at you, your eyes wide as you scan his face. He feels his cheeks warm as he cradles your face gently, your hand moving to his wrist.

"I love you, Jongseong." "I love you, Y/N."

IT'S THURSDAY EVENING, AND IT'S THE FIRST TIME HE'S GOTTEN A MOMENT TO HIMSELF SINCE THE START OF YOUR FESTIVITIES.

He's sitting at his windowsill, resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. A glass of wine sits untouched next to him as he stares at the stars. They're dim, but they're there – freckling the sky and accompanying the moon, the beauty of it reminding him of you. The kingdom is quiet aside from the trotting of a few horses on the cobblestone, the laughter of teenagers echoing through the town as they sneak pints of mead and bottles of wine from the back of the local brewery.

He hasn't been able to speak to you much since that night in his bedroom, and he feels his stomach turn every time you make a moment to talk to him – only to be pulled away. By a childhood friend wanting to dance, or a man thinking he has a chance to win your heart – he always lets you go, seeing the bit of anger flare in the back of your eyes as you slip away. He misses you, and you're only ever two or three inches away. He walks alongside you, his hands folded behind his back as yours rest in front of you. With every move of your arms, the collar of your dress reveals the dotted bruising of his teeth against your shoulder – to the point that he adjusts your hair over it several times. No one thinks anything more of it. Just a devoted guard that cares for the safety and image of the Princess of Decelis.

He misses when you were just his heart. The reason behind the wild thundering of it in his ribcage, the sole reason he breathes and lives. He hates the way your gold locket burns under his clothes, hidden under the collars of his shirts since you clipped it on him on Sunday morning with a silent kiss to his lips.

Now?

You're moving throught the gardens below with your mother, he spots you a few feet into the rose bushes. The moonlight illuminates the satin of your baby blue dress, the glitter catching his eyes as you stop suddenly. You turn around, your eyes dancing around before you look up, meeting his. Yours widen, lips parting before your mother speaks and you close it.

"Don't look at me that way, Y/N. It worries me." His brows jump, and he sees the way your eyes fill with guilt before you look away from him. "Everything worries you, Mother." You respond, your hands clutching the fabric of your dress as the Queen comes into view. Her dress is a deep sea blue, the belled sleeves gathered around her hands as she folds them in front of her. "Y/N, I run a kingdom and make thousands of decisions in just one day. Now, I've got an daughter that picks at her food in front of guests, of course I worry. What has gotten into you? Please tell me now, lest I pull it out of you."

Your mother's voice is quite soothing to him, and he feels a rift in the air as he hears the heels of your shoes click on the cobblestone.

"Mother, I…I don't want you to be upset." "Darling, please. Spit it out before I get collywobbles."

Your face crumples slightly, and he sits up quickly when he sees you cover your face with your hands. Your mother quickly pulls you into her embrace, her hands smoothing over your hair as you cry into her chest. She shushes you as one does a baby.

"I could never be upset with you, Y/N. You're everything to me, you have to know that." She rubs her hand over the back of your head, carefully tucking your hair behind your ears. "Everything I do, I do for you. The kingdom, the feasts, everything is for you, Y/N. As long as you're happy, I'll never have any reservations." Your head lifts, and the moonlight shines on the sheen of tears down your cheeks.

"What happens when I become Queen? Will I have to marry someone of your choosing?"

Your mother looks taken aback, before shaking her head. Her hand carefully adjusts the bejeweled tiara on your head, before tucking her hands behind her back.

"I married for love." She says softly, but it's still heard in the still of night. She turns, walking carefully down the pathway to one of the stone benches. "I married for love, and mighty me, did I love." The Queen sits on the edge of it, looking up at you making your way in front of her. She smiles softly, and he sees so much of you in her. "This is about Jongseong." He feels his heart stop, the sound of his name from your mother's lips so foreign. She awarded him curt nods, gentle smiles since his station at the palace, but nothing more.

He looks to you, seeing the tiara in your hand and you picking at the silver framework. "It wasn't on purpose." "Yes, it was."

His brows furrow at the admission, only to see you mirroring his expression.

"What?" The Queen shrugs, a small smile gracing her features as she plucks one of the roses off the bush next to her.

"Your betrothal wasn't a thought that crossed my mind until your father came to bed after your celebration feast." She picks at a petal, letting it float to the ground beneath her feet. "I'd long run my options into the ground, I was trying to pull any and every string to get you out of the alliance marriage with Desrosiers. It was eating me alive."

You knelt before her, eyes riddled with curiosity as he leaned further out the window.

"He said you thought Jongseong was cute. That you were in the kitchen with the chef, and making him a pastry with the berries you bought that day. I remember I went to check your bedroom when he said that, and you weren't there. I asked one of the maids to find you, but she told me you were busy making a lemon curd." She nods, a fond smile gracing her lips as she picks another petal off the bud.

"And then, you wore your favorite dress the next day when you left the stables. I saw you from my bedroom, and you had the giddiest smile on your face." She laughs, her fingers gently spreading the unbloomed bud to reveal the anthers. "Your father smiled the same way, you know, when we met on the night of my suitors' ball. We snuck out to this very garden, sat on this bench and looked at the stars."

"I catch the two of you out of the corner of my eye quite often. When you're visiting his parents in the forest, and he helps you onto your horse. When you're in the library, reading all the books he recommends and he falls asleep on your shoulder. When he's teaching you things that he loves, and you listen instead of scrunching your nose and turning away. That's…that's something I could never arrange, ally, or even enchant. You don't find that anywhere, not like this."

He hears a soft sniffle, before seeing her slide the rose over your ear.

"He's done just as I've asked of him. In a world so bleak, where the devil is in the details…he's shown you love." Her hands cup your face gently, "You…are everything to me. You're the apple of my eye, and I know I could never, ever take something so pure away from you. The crown, the throne, the kingdom…it's all yours. Yours for the taking, the ruling, all of it. And it's something you've never had to earn, even if you've worked hard for it." The Queen stands, pulling you to your feet and into her arms.

She pulls away, cradling your face in her hands with a stern look settled in her brows.

"Don't you dare break his heart, Y/N."

"I would never." You smile mischievously, your hands circled her wrists as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Is this what you've had your stomach in knots about? Jongseong?" Your mother trills her lips, pinching your cheeks. "Go on, off to bed you go. You've got quite the rehearsal tomorrow."

"Yes, Mother. And…" You glance over her shoulder, your eyes pinning him in place as his cheeks burn in embarrassment. "Thank you." "I'd bring the stars down if you asked, my darling. Now, scram. I've got many things to do before tomorrow's festivities." She wiggles her finger at you as you clutch your dress in your hands, your tiara grasped in one of them as you nod. You turn on your heel, the click of them against the cobblestone getting louder as you made your way back to the castle.

He watches fondly as the fabrics flow behind you, his chest warm as you disappear into the north tower entrance. He goes to move from the windowsill, but something stops him as he sees the Queen's shoulders sag. She sits down once more, a sigh from her lips as she takes the heavy golden crown atop her head and thumbs at the large gems. She sets it down in her lap, her hands reaching around her neck and a locket similar to yours appears in her palm. She opens it, her finger tracing the photo inside it with sigh. She holds it to her chest, a deep breath slipping through her lips.

"Oh, my heart. How I miss you, so." She sniffled, before inhaling shakily and closing the locket. He hears the door of his room open, but he doesn't turn around as he feels your arms snake over his shoulders. His hand reaches for yours, interlacing your fingers as your lips brush his cheek.

"She's so…sad." He murmurs, feeling your thumb trace soft circles into his skin. He can feel your lips open to say something, when your mother speaks again.

She looks up to the sky, the brightest star shining to the left of the moon.

"Goodnight, my heart. I love you dearly." The Queen folds her hands in front of her, her head bowed as she quietly made her way through the garden. He sighs, before turning to you. Your brows are furrowed as you stare into the night, the cogs in your head turning before you pull him away from the window. He allows it, following you down the hall with his hand interlaced with yours.

"Come, we've got work to do before my coronation."

THE DAWN OF SATURDAY WAS BROUGHT FORTH WITH SERENE SILENCE.

He was taking a deep breath in front of your mother's bedroom, having reluctantly left the safety of your arms. He held the bouquet he'd arranged the night before, with Friday being bursting with activities and way too much on your plate. Marigolds, Grand Cru lilies, with speckles of baby's breath and the touch of white bouvardia. A bouquet you saw much of during your parents' marriage – with gifts of berries from Jay's family, pastries made by your father's careful hands, songs played by the royal orchestra at your father's order.

You'd seemed like a madwoman last night, darting around in the kitchen and giving him things to do. He'd muddled berries, kneaded pastry dough, settled a lemon curd. He'd wrapped the flowers in wax paper, tied together with an ivory bow you'd stolen from your mother's collection – one she'd worn the night of her suitors' ball so many years ago.

"You haven't got all day, my love."

Your voice echoed down the hall, and he looked up to see you carefully clipping in your earrings. Your hair had been tied back and you weren't close to being ready, but he felt his heart all too warm as you smiled and waved him forward with both hands. He turned back to the heavy oak door, his hand grabbing the iron knocker and tapping it to the door three times.

"Your Majesty? It's Jongseong." He speaks clearly, but feels his stomach flip as he hears the click of her shoes on the marble tile. He looks back up to see you've gone, closing his eyes as he takes another deep breath. He hears the door lock click open, before a shred of the morning light peeks through.

Your mother looks down at him, her eyes wide as she pulls the door open further.

"Yes?" Her voice is soft, and he opens his eyes to see her dressed in a bright, golden yellow dress. His eyes widen, hand tightening around the bouquet. Her eyes fill with worry, "Are you alright? Is that…for me?" "I…yes. Yes, it is. From…the Princess and I." He holds it out to her, her hand hesitating to take it as her eyes rake over it. "The Princess?" She whispers, before thumbing at the petals of the lilies. She takes it gently, her eyes filling with something of suspicion as she examines them. "Is she…planning something? She's a daring little thing, you know." "Not to my knowledge, Your Majesty." He lies through his teeth, his eyes catching the morning light reflecting off the glittering dress. "If I may…you look lovely." The Queen tenses, her hand moving to the bodice of her dress. She shifts quietly, before looking back at him.

"It's the least I could do for her. She complains that I never wear colors anymore. I figured…it's not too flashy, is it? She always liked this one best." The Queen turns to the grand mirror against the wall, and he cleared his throat.

"It's not about what I think, is it?" He smiles softly, earning a laugh from the Queen. It's rich, but airy and playful.

"I suppose today is all about her. I'm sure she'll love it, she has to." She soothes herself, before catching his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "Jongseong?" "Yes, Your Majesty?" He straightens, and she turns on her heel, placing the hefty bouquet on her pillows. The bell sleeves of her dress come forward as she folds her manicured hands in front of her, her head tilted slightly under her sparkling bejeweled crown.

"You'll keep her safe, won't you? If you marry?"

He feels his chest warm and swell with pride, his cheeks flushing as he bows at the waist. "It would be my honor, Your Majesty."

"And you'll love her, until the end of her days? 'Til death do you part?" Her voice grows stern, her brows furrowed at the center as he lifts his head. Her eyes are steely, only hardening more as he nodded.

"I'd give my life." He admits softly, her eyes softening. The Queen nods, and his eyes widen as she, too, bows at the waist with her eyes closed.

"Then I give you my blessing to take her hand in marriage." She whispers, before straightening and folding her hands behind her back. "Through sickness and health, for richer or poorer." "To love and cherish." He murmurs, folding his hands behind his back as he meets her eyes. "I give you my word, Your Majesty." She only nods softly, before reaching around her neck and unclasping her necklace. A thick, gold band is hanging next to the locket, and he recognizes it as the ring the King used to wear when he would visit. Without letting go of her locket, she carefully pulls at her left ring finger. He can't help but feel his eyes widen as she holds the hefty gold bands out to him. She gives him a pointed look, flicking her wrist for him to take the jewelry. He does so carefully, before she smiles.

"I've had them blessed by the town priest, so don't worry. Now…see to it that everything is in place in the gardens, will you? It's going to be a very busy day."

He nods, "Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you…for everything."

"It's my honor, Jongseong. Please, go." He reaches for the door without another word, closing it gently behind him before he makes his way down the hall, his hands cool against flaming hot cheeks.

Jay is strolling through the garden as the trickle of guests begin arriving, greeting them gently as the royal orchestra plays soft music at the edge of the rose garden. You'd be crowned Queen in the marigold garden, the courtyard decorated to your liking – cream and ivory ribbon tied in all sorts of bows, glittering vases filled with refreshing spring water on the long table covered in fruit and meat and soft, spongy cakes.

Your mother's throne sits at the end of the court yard, the Decelis staff and coronation crown sat on a purple velvet pillow. They sparkle in the sunlight, with the people of the kingdom fawning over it from a distance – a royal guard standing on high alert next to the throne.

"Oh, this is beautiful."

He hears a familiar voice at the entrance of the lily garden, his eyes widening as he sees his parents slip in. He rushes over, a smile on his face as his mother waves him over.

"You're here! Did the Queen send for you?" He embraces them warmly, but hears your voice before they can respond.

"I sent for them, Jongseong. Mrs. Park, Mr. Park. It's an honor to see you again. I'm sorry I couldn't make it back last weekend, I had a terrible case of the lollygag." The three of them look up to see you smiling brightly – your dress long and sparkling in the morning sun, of glittering alabaster tulle and a billowing skirt in the soft breeze. Your arms are covered in sparkling sleeves, belled at the wrists and your shoulders peeking from the lowered cuffs. Your hair is pulled back, not a single strand out of place under your twinkling tiara. Your ears don simple gold hoops, your necklace the crest of the kingdom on an ovaled pendant.

"Oh, my stars." Mrs. Park's hand covers her mouth, "Look at you, Princess."

"Oh, you flatter me. Please, come in. Make yourselves comfortable, there's a table reserved for you at the front." You give them a quick curtsy, giving Mrs. Park a quick hug and Mr. Park a soft handshake. "I'll see you all during the feast, yes?" "Of course." Mr. Park nods, before Jay watches them slip away. You glance at him, your smile softening as you inch near – not close enough to catch attention, but seemingly just a princess speaking to her guard about something worrisome.

"I love you." You whisper, only to earn a scoffed laugh.

"You're going to be the death of me, look at you." He whispers back, and you hide your laugh with a bite of your lip. "I love you, my heart." "I'll see you after, yes? Sit with your parents." You pat his arm, and he nods, before disguising a tiara adjustment as an excuse to touch you.

"I have to talk to you after, okay? We can meet in the library." He whispers, and your eyes fill with worry. "Is everything alright?" "Of course, my heart. Why would I worry you on such an important day?" His smile is warm, and you give him a suspicious one with a pat to his chest. "Well…I'll see you. Go, sit while I mingle. I need you up there when I get crowned." You wiggle your brows, and he lets his eyes flicker to your lips. You stick your tongue out at him, "Not here." "I know, I know. But…you know, right?" He pretends to adjust the tiara again, watching the way you fight yourself from leaning into the touch. "You have to know." "I do. I love you. Now, go, beloved." You point your gaze, and he retreats his hands to his back, giving you a curt nod.

"As you wish, Your Highness." He grins as you scowl, laughing to himself as he turns away and walks towards his parents. They're seated quietly, with two glasses of water poured in front of them and a plate of sliced fruit. They smile at each other as they pick at the berries chosen from their shop, and he slips into the chair next to them.

"Does the Queen know?" His mother whispers, and he clears his throat quietly. "Yes." He tries not to let the giddiness climb up his throat, and she smiles softly. "Are you happy?" His father questions, and he nods discreetly.

"It's the softest thing I've ever felt." He looks up before picking at the plate of fruit, piercing a blackberry with a toothpick as he sees you take a flute of sparkling cider off a passing waiter's tray. You hand it to the younger woman in front of you, before tucking her hair behind her ear. You give her a soft nod, before turning away and leaving her in awe.

Much like you've always left him.

"Welcome, welcome! Ladies and gentleman, it is such an honor to have you all here for this incredibly important day in our kingdom's history. Today, we witness the spring equinox be christened with the crowning of a new Queen, of a new ruler."

Your mother is standing bright and tall at the end of the marigold garden, with everyone in utter astonishment at the return of her colorful wardrobe. She's practically glimmering in everyone's eyes – and she holds her composure at everyone's loving eyes as she continues to speak.

"Through the years of my time as Queen, I've seen many things. Even as just a part of this world, I've seen so much. I've seen death, I've seen birth. I've seen renewal and growth, I've seen the sick be healed and the healed lose their minds in utter despair at the idea of loss. There are some special gratitudes I'd like to put forth, particularly to the Park family." She smiles warmly at their table, and they smile quietly.

You're standing with Jay next to the throne, your hands folded behind your back when you sneak at a glance at him. Your eyes catch his, and he raises a brow as he looks between his parents. "The Park family has not only brought forth an incredibly bounty – the juice of their fruit so sweet on our tongues, the magic of Mrs. Park's medicinal genius curing our sickness…but the blanket of love they have covered my family in. For decades, I've entrusted my life in their hands, my daughter's…my heart, the King." The crowd of townspeople hum in mourning, and your mother rolls her shoulders gently. Her hands cover her chest, fingers curled around each other as she breathes in.

"With death, comes life. Though the loss of the King has been long in the past now, I still feel it. I feel the pain, deep in my heart. As though a piece of my soul has gone with him, as though I'm no longer complete." Her voice remains strong and steady, but her eyes water slightly as she rolls her shoulders once more.

"I remember when I first introduced Y/N as the Princess of Decelis. Everyone, as far as the eye could see, became incredibly enamored with her. And I could feel it, I could feel the adoration of everyone who came to see her. It was one of the proudest moments of my life, and…through her, every time I see her…" She turns to look at you, standing next to her throne with your head held high.

"It's like the King never left. She is so full of light, love and life. Life, what we are all surviving when we should be living. What more could I ever ask of her? When I know she'll be a wonderful ruler, a fair and just Queen. What more, I ask, could I ever want? When I know she will be happy, with the love that she gives and the light that she shines upon us all?"

Jay glances at you through the corner of his eye, your eyes watering as you step forward. You don't see the way his fingers clench at his side, wanting to comfort you.

"The Princess has some thoughts she'd like to share before we continue. Please, a standing ovation."

The Queen steps back, her smile soft as you take her place. Everyone in front of you has the same bright smile, but the only ones that matter are behind you.

"It is truly an honor to be in front of you all today to accept the next step in my journey. The Queen and I have gone through many things together, and though I've seen only what half has she, I…know the love. The light that shines on this kingdom, not brought forth by me but by her. So much kindness, and generosity, even through her own tribulations. Wouldn't you agree?" Your smile garners the cheers of the townspeople gathered throughout the gardens, and you clap along them softly. Your face grows slightly solemn as you clear your throat. "Three years ago this winter, our kingdom was ambushed by Fort Allingham and Castle Desrosiers. A plot of land just south of our kingdom was unclaimed, and it is said that greed is the greatest root of all evil. Land, gold, riches in oil can all be taken; when a life is taken to stake their claim, when life a many is taken…it cannot be in vain. The King…he died with honor. His sacrifice, and his memory will not be thrown away or forgotten. With this, I ask for a moment of silence for the royal orchestra to play something I've asked to honor him today, as well as the indescribable love he had for my mother."

You watch as the people of your kingdom turn to the orchestra in the rose garden, your mother's brow slightly furrowed as she does the same.

Her eyes widen as the opening notes of Salut D'Amour float through the garden.

Soft murmurs fill the garden – because everyone who knows the story of your mother and father knows that it was the first and only song they danced to during the suitors' ball where they met. Everyone who went to the royal wedding and sat in that sacred ballroom, knows that Salut D'Amour played as their first dance together.

Everyone who was at the feast to honor your father, knows that Salut D'Amour played during the last dance of the night.

Salut D'Amour – Greeting of Love.

The Queen hums along quietly, her eyes watering as she sways from side to side. The townspeople do the same, and you feel the heat of Jay's eyes on you as everyone else is turned away. You meet them, a soft smile on your lips as you tilt your head.

The song ends, and the garden is erupted in cheers as your mother steps to you, resting her forehead to yours.

"Thank you, darling." She steps aside, and you garner their attention once more.

"My father was a wonderful man, father and king. I hope to only live up to my mother's legacy, and his. Thank you for being with me on this very special day." You take a quick bow as they clap gently, before taking a step back next to the thrown. Your mother smiles, stepping forward alongside her royal guard that holds the pillow. She grabs the staff in her right hand, before you turn to face her. Jay places a thick cushion on the ground for you to kneel onto, gingerly taking your hand to help you down. He lets his touch linger, before another guard hands him a matching pillow for your tiara.

"Today, we witness a wonderful transition for the Decelis Kingdom." She touches the end of the staff to your left shoulder, "Princess Y/N will honor the crest of the kingdom, the glory, the honesty and the truth…" She touches it to your right shoulder, "She will make her decisions of sane heart and mind, and bring forth only fruit to the kingdom. She will be just, and fair…" She touches the staff to the top of your head, "And she will bestow mercy upon us all. Do you choose to venerate these honors as I have read them to you?"

"I do." You hold your hands out for the staff, and the Queen gingerly places it in your hands. You lean your head forward, your mother carefully lifting your tiara and placing it on the pillow in Jay's hands. He hands it off to another royal guard, who steps back with it and stands rigidly. She turns slightly, taking the coronation crown in her hands and Jay holds his hand for you to take as you stand. You transfer the staff into your right hand, bowing your head as your mother places the heavy crown atop your head.

"Crowned on this 80th calendar day, on the first equinox of the year; I present the honorable Queen of Decelis."

You turn to face the people of your kingdom, your cheeks hurting as the entire garden fills with screams and cheers, a few whistles sounding off from the somehow tipsy men in the corner. You give the Parks a warm smile as they stand and clap, before you speak again.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's celebrate!"

"You have no idea how many people asked when I'm getting married, and if I'd be having a suitors' ball. Apparently, it's unheard of for a prospective Queen to advance to the throne without being betrothed. How incredibly modern of me." You're slumped over the end of your bed, earning a soft laugh as he pulled at the strings of your dress. You sighed in relief at the loosening of the bodice around your torso, stretching slightly. He pulls the zipper down with ease, his knuckles digging lightly against your back as you groan. "And what did you tell them?" You huff, before rolling on your back. There's a guilty look in your eye, and he feels suspicion cross his features as he leans over you. He raises a brow as you look away from him.

"Y/N." "Don't say my name like that, then I can't ignore it."

You cover your face with your hands, but he pulls them away from you, pinning them above your head as he gives you an expectant look. You sigh, tonguing your cheek before rolling your eyes.

"I told them that I was already betrothed." You mumble, making him groan slightly. "I don't believe in jinxes! So we're fine! It's fine!" "Honey, you can't do that. People are going to stir up a flurry of rumors." He scolds, but you only jut your lip out in a pout.

"Don't chastise me right now, I saved you from having to ask me! And I've had a long day!" You try and reason, but he only shakes his head, leaning closer. He feels your breath hitch as his lips brush yours as he speaks.

"And what makes you think I don't want to ask you to marry me? Why do you get to make that decision for us?" You blink carefully, before sighing. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, before you shrug in defeat.

"I guess I jumped the gun." "Oh, but you've had such a long day." You scoff, "Don't patronize me." He smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You frown as he pulls away before you can kiss him back, but he lets go of your hands entirely and slides off the bed. You try not to look disappointed as you slip in front of your vanity, pulling pins out of your hair and rubbing your fingers against your scalp. Your eyes roll slightly, before you feel Jay's fingers begin to pluck the rest of the pins out.

"Your mother spoke to me this morning when I delivered her flowers. She's quite scary sometimes." He nods as you look at him through the mirror, your eyes wide as you attempt to turn to look at him. He smirks, holding your head in place with his hands as you scowl. "My mother is not scary." You grumble, tonguing your cheek before you feel his dull fingernails scrape lightly against your scalp. You lean into it, and he bites back a laugh as he massages the back of your head. He leans down slightly, pressing his lips to your temple before whispering.

"She gave me her blessing." He watches your eyes widen in the mirror, before you twist in your seat. "You asked her?" "She didn't give me a chance, she just asked me if I'd keep you safe." You turn fully as he crouches in front of you, carefully pulling your heels off. "And what did you say?" "That it would be my honor. She asked if I'd love you until the end of your days, 'til death do us part. I said I'd give my life. The way I see it, your mother practically married us already."

You snort, nudging his thigh with your foot. "You haven't even asked me yet."

He smiles, feeling his heart warm as you realize that that's precisely what he's about to do. "No, Jay, not right now! I look a mess, and I'm half dressed–" "And yet, you're still the love of my life. Funny how that works, isn't it?" He grins as you pout, your eyes filling with tears as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the gold bands that belonged to your mother. "She gave me these."

Your pout only deepens as you cover your face with your hands, a soft sob falling from your lips as he coos.

"Oh, sweetheart. Come on, don't cry. I haven't even asked yet."

You uncover your face, a furrow in your brows as your voice sounds off, thick with tears. "It doesn't even matter if you have, I know you're going to and I'm going to say yes so just put the damn thing on me already!" "You really have had such a long day, I'd hate to make it longer." He can't help but smile wider, making you scoff.

"I'm in tears and you're smiling at me! You're cynical!" You wipe at your face with your hands as he bends one knee on the floor, only for your face to crumple the moment it hits the ground. "Jongseong!" He takes your hand gently, your lips pouty as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. "I love you, you know that?" He starts, "You are the softest, purest form of love I've ever been subjected to and I don't think I could ever fathom a life where I don't come home to you every single night. I love you when you're sick and throwing a fit because it's too hot, I love you when you hog the blankets in my room even though you're technically not even supposed to be in there." You scoff, but don't interrupt as he runs his thumb over your knuckles.

"I love you like every day will be my last, and I worship the ground you walk upon until I can no longer crawl behind you. If my dying day was spent by your side…I could never ask for more."

He glances up at you, your eyes wide and wet and full of love.

"Marry me." He whispers, and you nod your head frantically. "Yes, I intend to. Hurry up!" You splay your fingers, making him snort as he shakes his head.

"You're so impatient." He rolls his eyes, but doesn't miss the tremble in his fingers as he carefully slides the ring on yours. Your hand grabs his, pulling him forward and pressing a warm kiss to his lips before grabbing his face and squeezing his cheeks between your hands. You pepper kisses all over it, with murmurs of I love you sprinkled in before you stop suddenly, your eyes wide as you pull back.

"You're going to be King." You blurt, and he shrugs but you shake your head, still holding onto his face as you ramble. "Jay, you're going to be King. There is so much my mom is going to have to teach you, and she–"

"Honey." "She's going to have to set up the wedding because I don't know how to do that, and what if she–" "Y/N." You stop, embarrassedly letting go of his face. "I'm sorry." He takes hold of your hands, standing from his spot in front of you and pulling you with him. He plants a kiss on your hairline, before tucking a loose curl behind your ear.

"Where you go, I go. Doesn't matter what I am, as long as I'm yours. We'll figure it out in due time." He presses a chaste kiss to your pouted lip, before cradling your face in his hands. "What do you say I help you decompress from your oh so long day?" You raise a brow, "Are you gonna–" "Do the tongue thing, yes." "Lock my door. We may be engaged, but I'm still a lady."

THE WEDDING WAS HELD THREE WEEKS LATER AND WAS A HUGE SUCCESS – WITH MANY TOWNSPEOPLE TALKING ABOUT HOW EASY IT WAS TO FIGURE OUT THAT IT WAS HIM YOU WERE ENGAGED TO.

How, you may be asking? Neither of you are as subtle as you think. Apparently, neither of you could stop sharing glances during the last feast of your coronation festivities, and a few of the straggling women spotted him press a kiss to your shoulder as he helped clean up the garden. Not to mention the fact that several huntsmen had also been in the forest every time you and him went to visit his parents. As it turns out, you don't usually end up making out against a tree during regular archery lessons, but hey – life is short. Foragers had also spotted the two of you about, and you're embarrassed to know that one of the fishermen in town had come across you and Jay canoodling while roasting a wild salmon over a campfire. Mr. Lee insisted it was fine, that it was cute – and also, none of his business.

The wedding had been grand – and quick. Jay was always right, you were incredibly impatient; but you saw no reason for something to take so long to plan when you had everything perfectly accessible. Your ceremony was only family and a few scattered friends – but the reception was a huge feast that gathered all the townspeople in your garden once more. Your first dance was to Salut D'Amour, and you got slightly tipsy off a few flutes of champagne. Your dress was something delicate, worked on from the morning after your coronation to the morning of your wedding – and every single sparkle of glitter was perfect in the beaming sunlight. As for Jay? He was crowned King in the privacy of your mother's throne room, with his parents and you present. No one in town made a fuss about it, seemingly aware that he was a private person – after all, you managed to keep a relationship of three years secret…for the most part. He admitted he didn't really care for the title, only taking it because it meant a great deal of support for you as Queen.

He moved his belongings into your bedroom, and you could tell the way things really hit him as he put away the last book in his collection onto your shelf.

"...So this is us, huh?" He murmured, slipping under the covers as you snorted, resting your head on the heel of your palm as he turned on his side to face you. "We're married." "We are." You smile, "It's insane to me to know that me telling my father I thought you were cute has led us here."

"I love knowing that you fell first." "Oh, shut up. You fell harder." "I'm not refuting that, I'm just saying…you like me." "I love you, idiot." You roll your eyes as he scoots closer, and you swing your leg over his hip. "Just wait until everyone starts asking about heirs. I swear, it will feel like the most awkward thing ever." "We just got married, they can wait a year or two." He snorts, and you raise a brow.

"A year or two? More like three or four." You scoff, and he smiles. "Don't smile at me like that, it's like you're plotting something." "Three or four years?" He moves to hover over you slightly, making you groan as he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. "Jay." "Mmh?" "You are horrible, terrible, no good for my health." You huff embarrassedly as he trails down your jaw, his hand pushing the hem of your nightgown up. "Awful, even. Bad." "Mhm, mhm." His fingers curl around the waistband of your underwear, "Have you tried detrimental to? Maybe ghastly?" "You're parlous for my health, my beloved husband." You roll your eyes as he smiles, before feeling the fabric of your underwear being pulled down your legs. "Jay." "Consider this a practice round." He presses a kiss to your lips, "Just wanna make you feel good, okay?"

And of course, it's okay. It's always okay – it's you and him, forever.

That's why you're never against him, either. You'd never felt so safe in the arms of someone who didn't owe you anything – because he didn't. He didn't owe you the kindness of his heart, the warmth of his love or the solidness of his honesty. He didn't owe you friendship, because when this started – it was just a job. To protect you from harm, to watch over you, to help you hop along.

When he first came into your life after your father's death, he helped you see there was a way to have your cake and eat it too, to win the battle and the war.

There didn't have to be more than that to your relationship – more than the subtle reminders of unbreakable love, of yearning desire, of undying patience.

There didn't have to be anything more to you as a person – nothing but who you were already, sprinkled in with what it was like to be loved by Jay. It was warm, it was patient and kind…and it was everything to you. Jay was everything to you, and you felt ease knowing it could now forever rest at the forefront of your mind – because he is proof that you can win the battle, and conquer the world.

"Honey?" "Yes, my heart?" "I love you." "I love you, angel."

#rain reads :3 #rain's reviews!

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hyukalyptus · 3 days ago

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txt reaction when they’re making love to you for the first time, you’re shy and want the lights off, but they urge you to keep them on and end up finding your healed body scars. Is that angsty?

HELL YEAH THIS IS ANGSTY i love it. lets do some hcs,hmm?? im kinda nervous for this one lmao. i feel like my answers may be a bit cringe but i don't care lmfao. maybe a tad self indulgent MWAHAHA

cw. lots of talk of scars and of self harm (nothing graphic, just talking about scars, not the actual harming), kinda cheesy i think?, i tried really hard to not make it cheesy though, sex implied but nothing graphic there, kissing, swearing.

hcs under cut. again, this talks about self harm.

yeonjun is quiet at first. you can feel the moment he sees them. it happens every time. and you still don't really know how to prepare or react. should you act like they don't exist? address the elephant in the room? cover them up with the blankets? your internal argument is interrupted, though. "i see them," he says. no sugarcoating things. which might be your favorite approach so far. you let out a quiet laugh. he says, "honestly, i was already impressed by you." then he grazes his fingertips over them. "now I’m just kinda intimidated." u raise a brow, unsure if he's joking. "you went through all that, and you're still here like it's nothing." you take a deep breath. then he looks into ur eyes and says, "you're even more of a badass than I thought." and you can tell that it's not a stupid line he pulled out of his ass. he's dead serious. and when he leans in to kiss you again, he shows you just how much he wants you.

soobin i think would be very quiet about it. like not really making many comments for a while. but not out of shock or confusion or pity. just an acceptance of who you are. like he's undressing you gently and finally sees your bare body in the light and starts noticing them slowly, his eager hands slowing down. he looks at it for a second while u carefully watch his reaction and then he leans down to press the softest kiss to one. again, not a performative pity party, not feeling sorry for you, and definitely not wanting to "save" you like some have wanted in the past. it's almost in admiration or reverence. and he kisses more of them, saying i see you without speaking.

beomgyu notices them when he lifts your shirt off, eyes slowly trailing down before catching on the thin lines as a flicker of awareness flits across his eyes. you've done this before, though, and with worse lighting. it's not so scary anymore. "yeah," you start. "they’re what you think they are." and he just nods, "okay." and there's this beat of silence before you finally ask, "you good?" he nods with a chuckle and says, "just trying not to say something stupid." a small smile tugs at the corners of ur lips. then he gently rests his palm on ur stomach and says, "it's just..." he takes a deep breath. "ur still here. and you let me be here too." he smiles. "that’s…a lot, you know?" and honestly? you finally feel seen. not as someone with weird scars or some pathetic thing that's minutes away from breaking down. and he's obsessed with you.

taehyun is kinda caught up in the moment already. ur splayed over the bed, fully bare and visible in the light. and he's just noticing them, touching them to acknowledge their existence. "they're not new," you say. "i'm okay now." and the way he looks in ur eyes, a deep admiration and respect ur not sure u've ever felt, just sort of hits. he holds ur face in his hand and says, "thank you for letting me see this part of you." and it's not dramatic. just truth. and you finally feel like he's not looking at something broken. "i didn’t mean to make it a big deal," you murmur. "you didn’t," he whispers. "but it is. you could’ve kept the lights off or covered up. but you didn’t." and the kiss is so beautiful and blissful—not because he sees your scars—but because you trusted him to.

hueningkai sees them when he's kissing down your stomach. he takes them in, slowly, silently. you go still, bracing for something, but ur not quite sure for what. you just hope it isn't disgust or worse: pity. he doesn't speak. just sits back on his knees and really looks at you. "damn," he starts. "you've been through it, huh?" then his eyes flick back up to yours, something different in them now—heavier than they were before. "and i’m just really fucking honored you chose me." you blink. and it hits. you don’t say anything. just reach for him, hand wrapping around the back of his neck to rest gently. when he leans in to kiss you again, it's not careful. it's intentional. he knows what this means. and he's not afraid. and this weight lifts off your shoulders. because he saw them. and he stayed.

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Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860

Blackline (centers Black, Indigenous, & People of Color): (800) 604-5841

Wildflower Alliance Peer Support Line: (888) 407-4515

For text based support, THRIVE Lifeline offers 24/7 crisis support at 1 (313) 662-8209

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dior-luxury · 3 hours ago

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could i request yandere hcs for the vice dorm heads?!! since i saw yiy do yandere and im curious ^^

Yandere Dormleaders

( ✧ ) ────── yandere stories . yandere/angst - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dormleaders

- [𝐩:𝐬] Yandere Themes (Obsession, Possessiveness, Emotional Manipulation) . Psychological Manipulation . Implied Isolation/Kidnapping . Mild Horror Elements . Dark Romance . Loss of Autonomy . Mentions of Surveillance/Controlling Behavior . Non-Physical Coercion . Angst and Unhealthy Relationships

Note: Sure, I could totally do that! I haven't written anything yandere in awhile, but this turned out good! (￣▽￣)

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle's obsession with you would be disturbingly proper. He wouldn't immediately spiral into madness; rather, his need to "correct" and "guide" you would bloom slowly, quietly wrapping its thorns around his heart.

You might not even realize it at first — the way he insists you "follow the rules" he writes specifically for you. Small things:

"You must report to me each morning."

"You must sit beside me during tea."

"You must not entertain any suitors without my approval."

He frames it as "for your own good," citing countless examples of how the world is too cruel, how others might taint or mislead you. At first, you might mistake his behavior for being strict or protective. He corrects your habits, scolds you for being careless with your health, forbids you from mingling with those he deems "unsuitable."

But over time, the punishments escalate.

Riddle is not above using his magic to enforce obedience. A single, sharp command — "Off with your head!" — and you’d find yourself paralyzed, dizzy, barely able to resist. He'd smile sweetly afterward, telling you he "only does this because he loves you so very, very much."

Isolation becomes a tool. He arranges your class schedules to match his. He ensures that Heartslabyul students monitor you under the guise of "house unity." Trey and Cater notice the change but say nothing — Riddle is their dorm leader. And besides, you always look so cared for, so properly dressed, so "happy," don’t you?

Behind closed doors, Riddle’s desperation festers. He fears your rejection more than anything. He fears your disobedience. His worst nightmare is you laughing with someone else, choosing someone else.

So he tightens his grip.

In private, he would kneel before you, his gloved hands trembling as they reach for yours.

"I cannot allow you to stray. I cannot endure a world without you by my side. You belong to me. You must understand that, won't you?"

If you try to run?

He has the entire dorm searching for you within minutes. And when he finds you — breathless, furious, terrified — his composure shatters.

Tears burn in his eyes, but his voice is calm, almost eerily so:

"If you do that again, I will make sure you never walk far enough to leave."

And somehow, horrifyingly, he still kisses your forehead afterward. Sweet. Gentle. Terrifying.

Yandere Riddle is a prison made of velvet and roses — a nightmare draped in politeness and ritual. You would forget what true freedom even feels like.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s brand of yandere is predatory — lazy, slow, but terrifyingly inevitable. He doesn't chase. He waits. And you realize too late that he's already set the trap.

At first, you think Leona barely notices you. He's dismissive, gruff, always sleeping. But behind those half-lidded eyes, he's watching. Calculating.

He doesn’t ask for your time; he takes it.

You find yourself summoned to his side often. Tasks, excuses, meaningless errands. He’ll tease you, order you around casually, “Be a good herbivore and fetch me some lunch, yeah?”

You think it's harmless until you realize: he only wants you doing these things.

No one else.

Leona isolates you subtly. Friends who get too close? He humiliates them with cruel, cutting words until they slink away. Teachers who praise you? He sneers, dragging you back to his side afterward, reminding you of who really understands you.

"You're not that special. They don't see it. But I do." "Stay where you belong, little herbivore. Right here. With me."

Jealousy turns him violent.

Smile at another guy? Leona’s hand is clamped around the poor fool’s collar before anyone can blink, growling low and deadly in his throat. He doesn’t always resort to physical fights — most back off when they see the glint in his eyes.

But make no mistake: if someone really threatens to take you away? Leona would not hesitate to use his magic to eliminate the problem.

He’s possessive in a way that feels ancient, animalistic. Sometimes he'll drag you to the gardens of Savanaclaw, sprawling on a sunlit bench, pulling you into his lap lazily — but with a grip that promises you won't leave.

His voice is low, rough, coaxing you like a predator comforting its prey:

"Don't bother struggling. You're mine. You're safer here than anywhere else. You don't need anything outside of me."

Leona demands loyalty. And if he ever suspects you want to leave — truly leave — he'll break you down, piece by piece, until you have no one but him left.

It’s suffocating but disguised as protection: "You think you can survive without me? Pathetic. But... tsk, guess I'll just have to teach you how much you need me."

In the end, you realize the cage isn't physical. It’s emotional.

Because somewhere in your mind, you start to believe it:

There’s no escaping the King of Beasts once he’s claimed you.

Azul Ashengrotto

At first, Azul’s obsession with you would seem almost charming — flattering, even. He’d approach you carefully, calculatingly, hiding his trembling excitement behind a mask of cold professionalism.

He’d offer you small favors first:

A free meal at the Mostro Lounge.

Help with your classes.

A luxurious study room, just for you.

All free of charge, he promises with a dazzling smile — only his eyes, glinting with greedy hunger, betray his true intentions. You don’t realize you’ve been ensnared until it’s too late.

Because when you finally need something serious — help passing an important exam, rescuing a friend from a mess — Azul is there. Waiting.

Contract ready.

“Just a small agreement, my dear. Nothing you can’t handle.”

In exchange?

Your time. Your loyalty. Your company.

He’s careful at first. You spend hours by his side under the excuse of “repaying your debt,” helping with paperwork, entertaining him during long nights at the Lounge. But Azul doesn’t want your labor. He wants your heart, your soul, your everything.

You’ll start noticing the chains tightening around you:

Students whisper behind your back, too afraid of Azul to approach you.

The Lounge employees "casually" follow you wherever you go.

Jade and Floyd are always just a little too close, their smiles sharp and strange.

Azul is subtle in his madness. You’ll never catch him forcing you to stay. He'll smile warmly, adjust his glasses, and say, "If you don't want to spend time with me... well, I suppose there will be some consequences. But it’s your choice, truly."

And then terrible things start happening to those who get too close to you. Scholarships revoked. Projects sabotaged. Rumors spreading like ink in water.

Azul would make sure you realize:

You are safest by his side.

If you ever tried to confront him, he’d sigh, looking genuinely wounded: "I have given you everything. Is it so wrong to expect a little... devotion in return?"

And if you ever tried to leave? Azul wouldn’t fight. He’d simply present the contract you signed, in front of the whole school, revealing the humiliating clauses you never thought he’d enforce.

You’d have no choice but to stay. Chained, legally and emotionally, to the cunning boy whose love for you has long since turned into something monstrous.

At night, he would sometimes whisper into your hair as you sit rigid beside him. "Even if you hate me, even if you curse me... you’ll always be mine, my precious pearl at the bottom of the ocean."

There’s no escape from Azul Ashengrotto. Not without drowning.

Kalim Al-asim

At first glance, Kalim would seem like the least threatening yandere imaginable. Warm, smiling, generous — he showers you with gifts, attention, affection. He genuinely loves you, body and soul, with the purity and enthusiasm of a child.

But that’s what makes him so terrifying.

Kalim doesn't understand boundaries. He doesn’t want to understand.

If you mention something you like in passing, the next day he presents it to you — a mountain of it. You say you’re cold once? He fills your room with dozens of silk blankets. You admire a bird outside? He commissions a golden cage and presents it to you, saying "Now you can keep it forever, just like me and you!"

At first, it’s sweet. Overwhelming, but sweet.

Until you realize Kalim’s kindness comes with invisible chains.

He insists on escorting you everywhere — “For your safety!” He buys out entire cafes so you can have “private dates” without anyone else around. He fills your calendar with lavish parties — but only he is allowed to dance with you, talk with you, look at you.

Kalim doesn’t tolerate sadness from you. If you seem upset, he panics — and smothers you in even more suffocating care, "Are you unhappy? Did I not give you enough? Tell me what to do! I'll do anything, just please smile for me!"

At first, it seems harmless. But if you ever try to assert independence — refuse a gift, decline a party — Kalim breaks down.

Tears streak down his cheeks. His voice shakes.

"Don't you love me? I love you more than anything. I gave you everything! I made everything perfect for you! Why are you trying to leave me?"

His desperation turns dangerous fast.

You’d find that no matter where you went, guards would be stationed outside your door. He’d smile and wave when you see him — acting like everything’s fine — but the locks on the windows would say otherwise.

And if you ever tried to leave the palace-like dorm of Scarabia? You wouldn’t get far. The desert outside is endless. The guards are loyal. And Kalim...

Kalim would run to you, hug you tightly like a drowning man clinging to driftwood, sobbing against your neck:

"Please don’t go! I’ll die without you, I swear! Please, don’t leave me alone!"

And you realize — Kalim’s love isn’t something you can reason with. It’s too pure.

Too bright.

So bright, in fact, that it burns.

You would live your life like a jewel in a locked treasury — polished, adored, loved beyond sanity...

And never, ever free.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil’s yandere nature is refined, elegant, and absolutely merciless. He would never scream or throw tantrums. He would simply reshape the world around you until you only belonged to him.

At first, you think Vil’s attention is flattering. After all, he’s Vil Schoenheit — a celebrity, a prince among commoners, shining brighter than anyone at NRC.

He corrects your posture, critiques your clothes, adjusts your diet — always speaking with soft, lilting authority: "If you're going to stand by my side, you must meet the standard."

You think he’s just trying to help. You’re wrong.

Vil doesn’t want you to be perfect for yourself. He wants you to be perfect for him — a polished jewel, an exquisite reflection of his desires.

Every aspect of you becomes a project under his meticulous control:

What you wear.

Who you associate with.

Even what you say and how you smile.

At first, it's subtle — invitations to exclusive parties where you're glued to Vil’s arm, makeovers disguised as "treats," mysterious disappearances of anyone Vil deems "bad influences." But soon, it escalates.

Vil’s jealousy is cold, like winter glass.

If anyone looks at you for too long, he’ll deal with them socially. A few poisoned words in the right ears, a whisper at the right moment — and your admirer finds themselves humiliated, shamed, utterly destroyed.

Vil won’t yell at you if you defy him. No — he’ll sit you down, pour you tea with a smile, and calmly explain exactly how your "disobedience" makes you look ugly, foolish, and unworthy.

"I chose you. I could have anyone, and yet I chose you. Don't waste my love."

And if you still resist? He uses Vil Schoenheit’s greatest weapon:

Your own self-image.

He'll slowly chip away at your confidence until you can't imagine a life without him.

"No one else could love you the way I do."

"Without me, you'd crumble. Don't embarrass yourself, darling."

There would be no chains, no cages. Instead, Vil locks you inside a gilded mirror, a reflection crafted perfectly to his standards.

And the most terrifying part? Even as tears stream down your face, even as your heart aches for freedom — Vil will kiss your forehead gently and say:

"Shh, my sweet. It's better this way. You belong in beauty — my beauty. Forever."

You'd forget who you once were.

Because in Vil’s world, only he decides who you are allowed to be.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s obsession is deep, feral, and terrifyingly personal. Unlike Vil, who dominates the outer world, Idia traps you inside an invisible, digital web you can’t escape from.

At first, Idia is barely noticeable — just a shut-in, a ghost in the halls, hidden behind his holographic screens. You assume he’s harmless.

But what you don’t realize is:

You caught his attention the moment you acknowledged him.

One glance. One smile. One kind word. That’s all it takes.

Idia’s obsession festers in the shadows. He doesn’t approach you openly — no, he stalks your social media, hacks into your class schedules, plants cameras and tracking devices so tiny you’ll never notice.

In his hidden room, lit only by neon glow, he builds an entire digital shrine to you:

Thousands of photos.

Recordings of your laugh, your footsteps.

Custom programs that simulate conversations with your voice.

He tells himself it's "not that creepy" — that he’s just protecting you. From the outside world. From cruel people. From yourself.

When you speak to him in real life, he stammers, blushes, barely meets your eyes. But behind the screen, he’s a god — controlling everything you see, hear, experience.

Your phone starts acting weird. Messages don't get delivered. Friends drift away after "accidents" they can't explain.

You start feeling isolated — and that's exactly what Idia wants.

When he finally, finally makes his move, it’s not with threats. It’s with desperation.

"You're so lonely, right? It's okay... I'll be your player two. We'll stay together forever in a world where no one can hurt us."

If you reject him?

He doesn't get angry — not at first.

He collapses, weeping, clutching at your sleeve like a child:

"Don't leave me... You're the only real thing I have... If you go, I'll— I'll—"

And then things get worse.

Idia uses every ounce of his intelligence — hacking systems, trapping you inside the campus itself. No transportation. No communication. You are trapped in his perfect, isolated paradise.

When you finally realize the true extent of what he's done — that every door is locked, every path leads back to him — you find him sitting cross-legged on the floor, smiling with tears glittering in his sunken eyes:

"Game over. You belong to me now. Hehe... bad end, but at least we're together, right?"

You can scream.

You can cry.

But in the cold, humming, neon-lit tomb he’s built...

Only Idia can hear you.

Only Idia ever will.

Malleus Draconia

At first, Malleus’s obsession with you would seem almost... innocent.

He's so ancient, so powerful, and yet when he speaks to you, there's a kind of gentle wonder in his voice — like a lonely god marveling at the one star he can still see in the night sky. He doesn’t realize he’s becoming obsessed.

Not consciously.

He simply starts appearing wherever you are:

Strolling silently through your favorite gardens at midnight.

Standing by the windows of your classroom, gazing at you like a spirit unseen by others.

Whispering your name to the wind, letting his magic follow you like a loyal, invisible servant.

You might even feel special at first. Who wouldn’t, under the gaze of the prince of fae, the heir to Briar Valley?

But slowly, things shift. The weather darkens when you’re upset. Animals shy away from you — as if something ancient and predatory looms behind you.

You start to feel watched even when you're alone, even when you lock your door, even when you beg the darkness to leave you in peace.

Malleus is never cruel. He would never raise his voice at you. He would never strike you.

But his love is heavy. It bends the world around you like a star collapsing under its own gravity.

When you speak to others too long, Malleus grows silent. His emerald eyes narrow, his presence becomes chilling. Without lifting a finger, he commands the respect — and fear — of everyone near you.

Soon, others drift away, unwilling to risk the prince’s displeasure.

Malleus would never say, "you can’t leave me." He doesn’t need to.

Because he would reshape reality itself to bind you to him.

If you tried to leave Night Raven College, he would smile sorrowfully and ask, "Why are you running, child of man? There is nowhere in this world my wings cannot reach you."

If you dared to resist, Malleus would never rage. He would mourn.

He would weep thunderstorms into existence, each drop of rain a lament for the love you refuse to return. He would shroud the entire campus in endless twilight, time itself twisting under his grief.

"I do not wish to hurt you. I merely wish to protect you... from loneliness. From pain. From a world that will never love you as I do."

Eventually, Malleus would decide: The world doesn't deserve you.

He would spirit you away — to a palace of thorns and starlight, hidden in the folds of ancient magic. There, days would pass without end, each one a perfect golden cage.

You would be crowned beside him. A consort to the fae. An immortal beloved.

If you cried for your old life, your old friends, your old dreams? Malleus would hold you against his chest, humming a lullaby older than kingdoms, stroking your hair as you sobbed:

"Hush, my treasure. They are nothing now. Only we remain — as it was always meant to be."

Over time, even your memories would blur. The world beyond the palace would become a distant dream. And in the end, you would only remember his voice, his hands, his eyes — and the endless, inescapable love that burned like a black sun in the sky.

Because to Malleus, you are no longer mortal. You are no longer free. You are his.

Now, forever, and beyond the end of the world.

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