#just sy he's hot i will accept that more easily

[trickostars]

I don't care how many psa posts you make im never gonna see the man who body slammed a 15 year old several times and called him a "mistake" and "anomaly" unnecessarily, as a hero and antagonist and not just a straight up villain

[nyoomerr]

i think it’d be really funny if for a fic drabble it’s just hot food blogger luo binghe who’s dated every woman on the block scrambling cuz he thinks his boyfriend who hes totally gone for likes another man’s cooking more then his (jokes on him, shen yuan’s talking about HIS videos, he just doesn’t wanna admit it)

picky food critic sy and mean but brilliant chef lbh is one of my favorite pairings in the world, actually

---

Luo Binghe had always taken pride in both his cooking and his presentation. 

When he was younger, the meals he made served as a tribute to his mother. He ate well both because he knew she’d have wanted it for him and because the part of himself that would always be a hungry child of a poor single mother couldn’t stand the thought of being able to eat good food and choosing not to.

Then, when he was a bit older, cooking presented a new, more literal value: money. The daughter of a rich businessman had taken an interest in Luo Binghe from the meals he brought in to school, and Luo Binghe had by then already become wise to the fact that using empty-headed rich kids like her could pull a person out of the station they were born to. Luo Binghe used that girlfriend’s money to put himself through the first year of college; after that, he found someone with deeper pockets and won them over with his cooking as well. 

Well. Perhaps by that point Luo Binghe had learned how to win a woman over with more than just his cooking, but seduction was temporary. A woman would sleep with a pretty man that could promise to be a good lay; she’d only empty her wallet for a man who could measure up as something more permanent, and providing her with good food was the most surefire way to prove a man’s worth as a longterm boyfriend. 

So Luo Binghe cooked for his mother, and for his own hunger, and for the bills he had to pay by means of vapid girls who he cared little for but were easily swayed by good food.

After college, Luo Binghe became a chef, and then a sous chef, and then a head chef of a restaurant that he more or less controlled completely. He made a name for himself beyond being known as the pretty gold digger who’d dated half a dozen rich young ladies, and a wealth of his own that only multiplied when he began raking in advertiser’s money from blogging about his food on top of just selling it.

Luo Binghe’s food was good, and he knew exactly how to use it to position himself advantageously through life until he didn’t need advantages anymore. It had given Luo Binghe his life and his wealth and - most recently - his love, so Luo Binghe had no reason to feel anything but confidence in it.

“Binghe, can we have mapo tofu tonight? I’ve been craving some ever since I saw that video that’s been going around, ah, it looked so good…”

Luo Binghe feels his eye twitch. Nothing but confidence, he reminds himself.

“It’s rare for Shen-ge to want food he saw online,” Luo Binghe says sweetly, without answering Shen Yuan’s question at all.

“Is it?” Shen Yuan asks, not looking up from his phone. He’s currently sprawled inelegantly over Luo Binghe’s couch, giving Luo Binghe a perfect view of the way his shirt rides up, teasing him with a perfect sliver of Shen Yuan’s soft stomach. “I feel like I end up eating the food I see online way more frequently than the average guy, honestly.”

“Shen-ge frequently eats it; it’s rare for him to want to eat it,” Luo Binghe clarifies.

After all, this is how Luo Binghe had met Shen Yuan, the harshest food critic online. Luo Binghe had idly thought the small challenge of getting such a picky eater to endorse his food would have been good for his business, and invited him to try some. 

Shen Yuan had accepted. He’d then proceeded to eat Luo Binghe’s food with an enthusiasm, blissed out expression, and a symphony of erotic noises that had Luo Binghe, known playboy and talented sex-haver, feeling as if he’d just experienced the sexual awakening of a teen facing their first set of nudes.

That was fine, though, because Luo Binghe would simply seduce Shen Yuan the same as any other pretty face that could be swayed by good food, and - 

- and Luo Binghe could let Shen Yuan stay a bit longer, if only to hear the earnest way he praised Luo Binghe’s cooking and wished to hear about what it meant to Luo Binghe and asked if he could help Luo Binghe with the dishes -

- and inviting Shen Yuan back again and again would be strategic, because being the only chef who managed to not only wring a five star rating but a glowing review from such a notoriously harsh critic had been quite good for Luo Binghe’s business after all -

- and adjusting his menus to both suit Shen Yuan’s preferences and lean into heavier, fattier meals was good for Luo Binghe personally, because a lifetime of being a picky eater had let Shen Yuan grow up into skin and bones, which was bad for both Luo Binghe’s tiny remaining morality that was reserved for feeling bad for people who looked hungry and Luo Binghe’s sex life, since someone so skinny wasn’t very good for holding -

- and somehow, in the past year, Luo Binghe’s life has once more given cooking a new meaning: it’s what brought Shen Yuan to him, and got Shen Yuan to stay, in a way far more meaningfully than it ever got those rich young ladies to stay with Luo Binghe in the past.

It has also allowed Luo Binghe to grow into an ugly, wretchedly possessive thing, knowing that Shen Yuan likes his food best, that it’s his food that has filled in the little fat on Shen Yuan’s hips and thighs. A part of Luo Binghe becoming a part of Shen Yuan, and Shen Yuan enjoying it -!

“Well,” Shen Yuan says, “I want to eat this food. So - mapo tofu?”

Luo Binghe grinds his teeth. It makes the possessive parts of him howl that his picky eater boyfriend could be made hungry by another chef; if Shen Yuan had not specifically asked Luo Binghe to make the meal for him, and instead had genuinely sought out the online chef, Luo Binghe might have truly snapped.

…Perhaps this is a level of ownership that Luo Binghe should not feel over Shen Yuan’s eating, if their relationship is to be a healthy one. After all, if Shen Yuan were to ever be apart from Luo Binghe for longer than Luo Binghe could prepare meals for in advance…

Luo Binghe resolves to never be away from Shen Yuan for so long a period.

“Mapo tofu, then,” Luo Binghe agrees, smiling with sharp teeth at Shen Yuan. 

Shen Yuan finally glances up from his phone, beaming at Luo Binghe. 

“My Binghe’s the best after all, ah!” He says, clearly smug with himself, and some of Luo Binghe’s irritation slips away. 

For Shen Yuan, he really…

…He’ll really make mapo tofu better than anyone!!

Luo Binghe had made some just the other day actually, for a video for his blog, but he doesn’t bother to make it the same way this time. Food made specifically for his cooking blog is always slightly altered from how it truly tastes best - it must be designed to look good for the viewer, rather than tasting or feeling good. Besides that, Luo Binghe is not above altering recipes before giving them out so that his own cooking would always taste best, preventing copy cats from stealing the clientele of his restaurant. 

And, more importantly, this is the mapo tofu that Shen Yuan has specifically asked for, spurred on by a impotent online stranger who probably made a good-looking meal out of luck and nothing else. If Luo Binghe makes mapo tofu that is only good in a normal way, it won’t successfully prevent Shen Yuan from thinking of that stranger’s cooking ever again, ah!

So: a doubanjiang sauce that Luo Binghe has been fermenting personally, rather than store bought, and scallions instead of garlic greens to suit Shen Yuan’s preferences specifically. Tofu cut into chunks that Luo Binghe knows will be just the right size for Shen Yuan’s perfect pink lips and tongue, and the final dish plated in a way that is messier than is presentable for pictures but will have a better ratio of sauce to food, and -

Shen Yuan frowns. Luo Binghe, who has not seen Shen Yuan frown at a meal he has personally made in all the time he has known him, feels a spike of panic. 

Is his food not Shen Yuan’s ideal, anymore? Has Shen Yuan found another standard that he prefers, another chef to feed him? No one could feed Shen Yuan as well as Luo Binghe can, he’s sure of it, so why -!

“This doesn’t look like the mapo tofu you made the other day,” Shen Yuan says.

Luo Binghe blinks at him. “The mapo tofu that… I made?”

“Yeah? Didn’t I say I wanted it because I got hungry looking at your latest blog post?” Shen Yuan pauses to take a bite of the dish, his eyes fluttering shut and a low noise in the back of his throat escaping him in his bliss. “Ah, fuck it, this is way better than I thought it would be, forget the blog post!”

Saying so, Shen Yuan digs in to the meal in earnest, and Luo Binghe is left to watch him as he makes peace with the fact that he had, in fact, called himself an impotent fool when he thought it was someone else who had made mapo tofu that Shen Yuan liked the look of. 

[bolithesenate]

@charmwasjess consider yourself warned, this is a fic that, if/when i post it on ao3, it will need so many warnings

i don't even know where this all came from because i sure was in a MOOD when i started writing this and it is VERY different from basically all my other stuff.

putting it under the cut because neither Dooku nor Sy are having a happy fun time right now and that stays the same for most of the fic (i have not yet decided how it will end)

premise of it all is that Sifo didn't fully die after being shot down and Dooku still does the Dooku thing of keeping him in a cryopod in his basement, only Sy eventually wakes up and well... is confronted with his best friend, his dear heart, his secret love having Fallen so far from the path.

And Dooku is confronted with Sifo returned from the grave and he's had him killed him already once (for all that it was worth), there is no way he can do it a second time

or is there?

Dooku lay before him on the floor, face warped in pain and clutching one hand over the large electrical burn spidering over the side of his neck and jaw where Sifo had hit him. 

Oh.

Not a droid.

No wonder that one had lasted so long.

Sifo stepped above him, loosely pointing the crackling end of the electrostaff right at Doo's jugular. It would be so tremendously easy to just… push down, push out. 

The warping purple electricity reflected off Dooku's dark eyes, like fireworks in the night. That was one thing Sifo had noticed. Dark eyes, never Sith-yellow. He wondered why that was. Probably some sort of Sith-alchemy, or even just lenses (it wasn't, they were Doo's eyes, the same eyes he'd been staring into ever since he'd been a Youngling in the Crèches).

There was no contempt in those eyes, no struggle. Just acceptance and relief.

Relief.

Laughter didn't as much tear itself from but through Sy's throat.

Relief? Dooku wanted relief? Through death?

Not by his hand.

Disgusted, he threw the staff to the ground, where it clattered lifelessly to the side as Sy let himself fall down right over Dooku's midsection, straddling him once more in a by that point well-rehearsed motion. They were both drenched in sweat, an indication that they must have been here fighting longer than he'd thought. 

It was so funny, in an ironic way, how their current predicament perfectly mirrored their nights, just with both of them actually wearing clothes.

"Oh, Doo," Sifo whispered hoarsely and reached out to press the tips of his fingers onto the fresh burn marks, caught somewhere between gentleness and cruelty, "Did you really think that salvation would come that easily?"

"No," Dooku admitted.

"You're right it doesn't." Sifo's voice dropped. Then, he curled his hand into a vicious claw and pressed down. Dooku's scream was just as hot and scalding as the soft skin of his neck that only just was starting to blister. 

Sifo dipped down and licked into his open mouth, swallowing up all the pain and fury the other man let out – pain and fury Sifo was causing. It shouldn’t have been so exhilarating, being the cause of such turmoil in someone so Dark.

And yet…

And yet.

Dooku buckled under him, writhing. He could have thrown him off, Sifo was sure of that. The Sith had twice the strength and triple the motive to just do away with him – that was if he could break the spell Sifo had on his body. He ground down on Dooku’s lap. It was the one weapon he had, the one tool against this fool. The Sith desired him, wished to break him completely, wished for him to break him in return.

He could do that.

They had already proven that they were great at it, even.

No need for a bed when there was the slightly padded floor of the training room.

Sifo moved his face, dragging his lips along Dooku’s jawline until he reached his ear. “You may never accuse me of such infidelity again.” His voice came out strangely sweet, a complete antithesis to the venom he felt boiling in his heart. “We can be monsters, but only for each other.” It was just as much of a statement as it was a promise. He tightened his hand on Dooku’s throat even more and a silent gasp was his reward.

[sweetestlamb]

Touch My Heart

Summary: The heart wants what it wants. 

Author’s note: I tried really hard to accept the ending of Mr. Queen and I was able to find enjoyment in watching the characters that I had grown to love but after deep consideration, I can’t truly accept what happened to Bong Hwan, it’s just too cruel despite knowing how homosexuality is viewed in Korea. If that was the plan he should have never been made to fall in love with the King and they should have merely been friends working together for the greater good. no romance if it was going to be thrown away in minutes. If they wanted to include hot make out scenes then make it known that Soyong is taking control of her body and this is not what BH wants, but he’s taking the backseat in those moments. Let it be known that they are both in there but the romantic feelings are solely from SY. Don’t let BH wrestle with his sexuality and accept that he loves the King only to leave him with nothing back in his world, he grew from the experience but at the cost of what? His sanity. Anyway, yes I changed my mind. I The couple I fell in love watching was BH and Cheoljongie and that’s probably the only couple, I’ll write about. Maybe when I see more of SY in the spin off I’ll grow fond of her, but to me Cheoljong’s heart belongs to BH and just because SY loves him doesn’t mean she deserves him, the same way Byeong-In didn’t deserve her. 

A month goes by, the most splendid month she's ever spent in the palace. Walking around the castle grounds, there are always jubilant faces; servants greeting her with wide grins instead of the fear she used to evoke, she smiles back now instead of trying to thwart their happiness. It feels like someone has lit a torch in her once pitch black life, what she thought was a pointless existence now suddenly has a meaning and purpose. 

And it's all thanks to him, this mysterious man from the future. Jang Bong Hwan. When she jumped into that lake she had expected death, and nothing more. She didn’t have a plan, she just didn’t want to suffer anymore. Everywhere she turned there were locked doors and there was no way out.  Suicide was a sin but she would gladly accept her punishment, living her life was worst than any hell she could imagine. 

But rather than death she was locked in the deep crevice of her mind.

Seeing and hearing all but unable to say or do anything, a vegetable in her own body. But fright melted away to admiration, this strange man was brave beyond belief; standing up to those who had made her existence a living hell. Despite all the step backs and their many attempts at his life, their life he hadn’t given up finding new ways to fight back every time. Without even trying he had accomplished her one desire in life-to be the owner of the King's heart. She watched in awe as the icy barricade erected around his heart became to thaw, no match for the fiery force of the time traveler.

She watched as they fell in love and although it was her body, they were his feelings. Feelings that had taken time and effort to grow, it was torture to not be the one experiencing that. Then like a gift from the heavens she was back, restored to her rightful place. When she'd awoken to the King's tearful eyes, his mouth wide and twisted in pain she knew she would do anything to make him happy. This was her second chance and she wouldn't waste it.

Everything had changed while she'd been away. Everyone had changed.

Court Lady Choi and Hong Yeon looked at her at times, curious eyes unblinking. As if they were waiting for something, but she didn't know what. She was behaving as the perfect queen, listening the Court Lady's every complaint without agitation, they should have been happy but instead they kept looking confused and longing like there was something that wasn’t quite right. She futilely tried to convince herself it was simply her imagination.

However, it was not solely them. The King was the worst, they shared a bed every night and in the beginning she'd been elated at this occurrence. Until about a week ago, when he'd asked her a question she couldn't answer.

"My Queen, there is another word from your dictionary I need help understanding. What is the meaning of this?" He crawled closer to her, shifting the silk bedding beneath them. Once she got over the pleasure of having him so close, fear set in. 

His finger was underneath a word, she'd never seen before in her life.

Fraud.

She tried to sound it out mentally, taking his syllable separately but it still sounded foreign and she watched his anticipation dissipate as he awaited her reply. He continued to stare intensely at her, his brows furrowing as the seconds dragged by.

"My Queen?" The tone of his voice unsettled her, he looked desperate for a reply and dread settled in her stomach. She wasn't who he thought she was and the look on his eyes made it evident, knowing the truth would irreversibly change their relationship.

So she did something unthinkable.

Clutching at her stomach, she feigned pain watching him push the book aside to grab her, wrapping her in his embrace as he rubbed her back. Whispering soothing sounds into her hair.  She pressed her face into his neck, miserably. This was the life she'd yearned for, why were things still not as they should be?

She'd fallen asleep, too shamed to allow him to hold her that night. He hadn't tried to change her mind, rolling over and turning his back to her. It felt like they had moved back to step one. 

She'd kept her distance following that incident, needing a moment to process her thoughts without her love for him clouding her mind. He hadn't tried to visit her either, instead sending letters to check on her and their unborn child. She felt the wall being built and she didn't know what to do to stop its insurrection.

Sneaking away without her court ladies noticing she went for a late night stroll, hoping to clear her thoughts of the King, Her luck must have been running out because instead she stumbled onto a conversation that was not meant for her ears. 

Her intention hadn't been to eavesdrop but she couldn't walk away, it piqued her interest too much.

"The King seems different these days, wouldn't you agree?" The usual jovial voice of Special Director Hong was serious as he asked the question, using a cloth to clean a long gleaming gun as he stared up at the King's brother.

The prince stopped sharpening his sword for a moment to consider the question, after a long pause he nodded in agreement.

"Yes. He seems troubled and he has not been visiting her highness. Each day he sighs while holding a strange book. He seems lost.".

"What do you think could be bothering him? He has everything he's ever dreamed of. The kingdom is doing better than ever and he's expecting a child. This should be the happiest moment of his life."

The Prince sighs shrugging before replying in a hushed voice, "I've not seen him like this since he learned that Hwa Jin was not the one from the well. He acted this way then too."

It feels like a dagger through her chest, stumbling back she rushes back to Daejojeon hall with her heart in shambles. What am I doing? She feels nauseous at the comparison, she was fooling the King and she doesn’t know how much longer she can continue this farce. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

To say the Queen is acting strange is an understatement, she is acting like someone completely different. He waited for her to drop the honorifics, thinking she was teasing him and this was meant to be a joke but she didn’t, instead she she began acting like a proper Queen and easily following the suggestions of her Court Lady to both of their dismay. What was wrong with her? Had she hit her head and forgotten that she was meant to be a loveable headache and not a soothing summer breeze? 

She's still the same beautiful woman, looking at her evokes the same lust and admiration but speaking to her confuses him; in that she no longer uses words he cannot understand and her behavior is that of a trained Queen. He’s confused but her lack of confusion. She's being extremely consistent and he's never been more perplexed and thrown off kilter in his life.

He finds himself yearning for something he cannot name. Looking at her in the hopes he'll find what he's looking for and instead of a mischievous grin or an arrogant smirk, he's always greeted with the same serene smile. It's pretty but it's not the smile he's grown to love these past few months. It reminds him of the Soyong he'd met during that rain shower, someone he didn't know but found appealing.

They haven't slept together, despite sharing a bed. All of his advances have gone unnoticed, where as before it simply took them being in the same room to ignite a flame in both of their loins. Once he'd followed the Queen into a pantry, hearing her grumbling about nosy head chefs but once she noticed his presence, it only took seconds before they were ripping at each other's clothing. They'd been missing each other all week and he was practically starved for her. It was clear the feeling was exceptionally mutual.  He'd taken her against the wall, hard with her egging him on and whispering pure filth in his ears.

"Fuck! Yes right there, don't be gentle. Fuck me until I can't walk, come on harder!"

He had no idea what that word she said meant, fuck but he was powerless against her commands flipping her around to pound into her from behind, a position that she had taught him. She  wailed rocking back shamelessly  to meet his harsh thrusts, the sound of her nails scratching the wall making his skin hot. Skrrrrrrrr. They slammed into each other until his legs were tense from the position and she wordlessly took over, separating them with a loud wet squelch before pushing him to the ground and riding him like a wild stallion. He had watched helpless as she bounced on top, her breasts jumping freely as she shoved him deep inside of her tight grip. When they were finished, he was dazed and breathless. She'd looked at him with barely opened eyes, slowly licking her lips looking like sin personified before patting his cheek.

"I needed that. Thanks for screwing my brains out." She barked slipping off his softening cock, he watched mesmerized as his spent dripped from her precious place. 

More words he didn't fully comprehend but her satisfaction was obvious and that was all he needed. He'd preened under her, feeling himself swell again at her words.

She raised one eyebrow at the sudden press of hard skin in her thigh.

"Come visit me tonight. We need to make up for lost time."

They had made love until his cock couldn't get hard anymore and she'd collapsed next to him, splayed with her breasts bitten red and his seed leaking from her well used hole.

Something had changed but he couldn't place what it was exactly. He tried brushing it off but it gnawed at him until he couldn't hold it in and he'd broken down and asked her about the Queen's dictionary. He'd purposely chosen the word knowing exactly what it was. His Queen had used it several times to describe the corrupt members of the royal court. They'd all been frauds, living a lie wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

He thought that would put his mind at ease but instead it had been the opposite; her hesitation solidified his fear, there was something afoot and he had to know what it was.

He sighs stroking at the book, he always keeps by his side.

"What am I missing?"

Before he can get too lost in his thoughts the head eunuch enters the room, bowing all the way.

"Your majesty, the Queen has come to visit you."

He looks up at the announcement, his usual excitement doused by his doubts but his heart does lurch at her arrival. His Queen did not care about propriety, coming to this chambers at such an indecent hour was a great sign. That was more like the Queen he'd grown to love. Maybe he had been overthinking and there was nothing amiss after all. 

"Let her in." He straightens up, moving the scrolls to the side to give her his full attention.

He watches as she bows gracefully, before sitting down. Far away from him. A ball forms in his throat, he'd gotten used to sharing his space with her; and sharing his table during their late night talks. She didn't appear to have any intentions of joining him at the surface despite the constant occurrence of that happening the months prior. He tries to but he couldn't keep the disappointment off his face.

"My Queen what brings you here so lat--"

"I'm not who you think I am." She interrupts, staring down at the floor instead of looking into his eyes. Strange again, she was typically so good at maintaining eye contact at times even unnerving him. 

He tenses at her exclamation, mouth falling open in shock. What did she mean? Who else could she possibly be if not his Queen?

"What are you saying? Are you feeling sick?"

She ignores his inquires, "You've noticed. That I'm different. I can see the way you look at me, the way everyone looks at me, like you're all waiting for something. I'm not that person."

He tilts his head, trying to understand her meaning but he can't decipher what she's trying to say. He tries to reconcile the two versions of the Queen he's come to know, the wild untamed Queen he fell in love with and this poised and tactful Queen he was a stranger to. The two don't make sense in his mind.

"The person you fell in love with..."

He stares at her intensely almost scared to hear the rest of her sentence but knowing he must, his biggest fear was living a lie and not having control over his fate. Holding his breath he impatiently waits.

"That wasn't me. Do you remember what I said to you the day after I woke up?"

He storms his memory trying to recall her words oh so long ago. Then it hits him, those crazy words coming out of her mouth.

I'm really a man. From the future.

He had paid her no attention than, barely wanting to be in her presence much less listening to her tall tales about something that couldn't be true. She was clearly a woman and the second claim held no possibility at all. But they'd had conversations later too about those same ideas, right in the spot he was sitting now.

She'd taught him about things he could only dream of- democracy, voting, people born with spoons, even people who loved others who shared the same sex. He'd been confused about the last one but she had explained it simply, "Love is love. Who cares what they have between their legs?" Worded in such a manner, he'd found it impossible to argue with her. Love was indeed, love. 

"Are you saying that this was true? How can that be? You are here right now. Who are you then?"

She sighed finally looking at him, face cloaked in sadness.

"I'm Kim Soyong, the person you are in love with is Jang Bong Hwan. He was controlling this body after I jumped into the lake. He's the one that helped you and he's the one that was willing to die for you."

He gasps leaning back in his chair, before bringing up a hand to cover his face, scrubbing wordlessly at his skin.

"I know this is shocking but I couldn't lie to you anymore, you kept looking for him and it's clear I'm not the one you want." Her voice is soft, barely a whisper and guilt spreads at her assessment- she's right and he's guilty that he can't deny it.

A sad smile fills her face, "Don't feel bad. You didn't do anything wrong. I should have fought harder to have the life I wanted, I thought death was my only option but I should have chosen to live. I didn't love myself enough to fight."

He's suddenly transported to that night by the lake, her eyes glowing with tears as she begged him to love her, to understand her. He hadn't been able to see that moment clearly then, assuming it was a command and that she was another evil member of the Kim Clan. She'd loved him but he couldn't see it then too blinded by his thirst for vengeance. 

But he sees it now. Clear as daylight.

"I'm sorry."

She seems paralyzed by his unexpected apology but before she can cut him off he continues, "I'm sorry I couldn't understand you. I was too blinded by revenge to see you that you were a victim too. I should have tried to understand you." He owes her at least that much, but he can't say that he wishes things were different. It would be falsehood. If she hadn't done that unspeakable act of throwing herself into the lake he would have never met Jang Bong Hwan, the man he loved.

It was selfish but he wouldn't have changed anything, it was all worth it for those fleeting moments they spent together.

"Is he gone now? Back to where he belonged? Is he....happy?" He's broken at the idea that he'll never see him again, they never even got to say good bye. Was he alone now with no one to comfort him? Did he struggle to fall asleep too? It hurts that he will never know.

"I think so."

That has to be enough then, he has to accept things for what they are. It was against the rules of time that they crashed into each other's orbit, fates hand had taken a wrong turn and this was the Queen he was supposed to be with, he understood her now. He didn't hate her. He could grow to accept her and his fate and move on, he had to. 

But his heart rips remembering her- no him wrapping the scarf around his neck, the first time he saw the embroidered CJ and how it brought him to tears. His grunts as he carried him from the well and let him hold him until he fell asleep. His face as he'd reached for him after the explosion, the distress and panic. How was he supposed to forget any of those moments? How was he supposed to go on living without Jang Bong Hwan? 

"Thank you for telling me."

"That's not all I came here to tell you."

His head spins, nervous about what other information she could possibly have to tell him. He still hasn't processed this, both that he's been in love with a man and that he'll never see this man again.

"I want to give him my body."

All the whirling in his brain shuts down at her utterance. Finally, his mind is silent.

"What?"

She repeats with more confidence, "I want to bring him back. I want to give him back this body."

He stifles his glee at the suggestion, knowing that he can't allow her to do such a thing. This was her body, her life, how could he allow her to throw herself into the lake again? He was a better man now, he wouldn't stand by as she took her life, not this time.

"No. I can't let you do that. My happiness is not worth more than your life, I will get past this I promise you. I will stop looking at you with expectations, I'll accept who you are." He will grow to think of her fondly, she's the mother of his child he will make space for her in his heart.

He watches as a single tear streams down her cheek, "Can you promise that you'll grow to love me, the way you love him?"

He's frozen at the question, he stares wide eyed at her. Immediately knowing the truth, avoiding her eyes as he stares at his palms. He can't make that promise when his heart only beats for one, he stays silent knowing that his silence speaks volumes.

"Would things have been different if I hadn't been from the Kim Clan?” She asks him again, the question that had tipped her over the edge and he feels all the regret and guilt in his body and this time he answers honestly.

"Yes. They might have, I could have accepted you better. But I love him now, I wouldn't change anything because it all brought me to him. I can't apologize for how things went." He knows those aren't the words she longs to hear but he can't give those to her, he can't accept her feelings.

"Maybe in a different universe, we could have been something more." She says heartbroken, face wet with tears now. 

Maybe. But he doesn't want to find out. He wants this universe with the one who holds his heart.

She bows before standing, "I've made up my mind. I'm doing this for myself as well, I can't live my life as a shell. I want to find my own happiness too."

He watches as she walks out the room, never looking back.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He doesn't understand her full intention until days later, he watches puzzled as Hong Yeon, the Queen's most loyal court maid comes barreling towards him. Her face is red with exertion and something that looks like terror. He feels the same emotions coming to life in his body as he watches her pant and struggle to speak. 

"What's wrong? Speak! What happened?" He commands, impatiently waiting for a reply. 

"Your majesty, it's the Queen." She cries, a cascade of tears falling from her eyes and he doesn’t wait for any clarification before he bolts off to Daejojeon hall, hoping that he's not too late. He couldn't afford to lose anyone else.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Nine: Group Therapy

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A familiar drink brings back steamy memories for Shane (by popular demand), a ghost from the past picks a fight with the present, and the future hangs in the balance for our heroes.

Behind on the drama? It’s cool. I gotchu.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, violence, smut, alcohol consumption, more feels than you can shake a stick at.

Author’s Note: Guys. Listen guys. I know this chapter is a tad late…not that I have deadlines, I just know y’all want more sooner than I can always get it to you. It’s also, though, a bit longer than most of the previous installments have been. I hope you guys enjoy it. I think it’s my favorite chapter so far…I definitely cried the most writing it…you’ll see why…I’m not sorry. Initially, for some reason, it was hard to stay focused. (I blame my own emotions and feelings clouding my ambitions. Can’t let that happen anymore. Even though the same factors apply. I’ve gotta keep my head in it!) I’m actually pretty sad that there won’t be very much more of this story…they’ve been such good friends to me. I may just have to find a way to keep them going in follow-up drabbles. I don’t know. But I’m open to suggestions.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

It wasn’t top on Shane’s list of things she wanted to do tonight, but it had been ages since she’d gone out with her friends. It wasn’t totally because she’d been seeing Sy. But more recently, he had become the most prevalent reason she ended up bowing out. Because she had plans with him, or she needed to do things that she hadn’t gotten or wouldn’t get done because of plans with him unless she skipped out. They were bad excuses, but those of an introvert weren’t usually top-shelf, anyway.

It was Heather, the other secretary Marsha and her husband Alec, some of her fellow PTs Cory and Juan, and both OTs, Olivia and Miranda there at Cade’s that night. And Shane and Sy, of course. They were sitting at two tables close together, and after dinner, the guys got up to play darts while the ladies ordered a round of shots.

Heather both requested and paid for the tray of tiny glasses full of dark liquor. Shane knew the aroma all too well. Those were full of Jack Daniels. And she got tingly just thinking about the spirit, especially now.

“Let’s drink the first round to Shane.” She passed them around and held one up. “For landing captain sexy pants over there, and for being happier than I’ve seen her in actual years.” Heather clinked to the middled with the other girls as they completed the toast with cheery responses of “to Shane!” With intermittent whoops and cat-calls. She felt funny saluting herself, so she said nothing, silently dedicating her own drink to the guy she wasn’t expecting, wasn’t even asking for, but who’d been gifted to her, by God Himself, it seemed. Whoever or whatever or why ever, she was grateful for him.

She downed the full measure of whiskey, feeling the familiar pleasant burn down her throat and reminisced about the last time she’d had the drink.

~~~~~~

“No you’re cheating!” She slurred at Sy’s kitchen table.

“Not how I see it!” He smirked, that crooked grin mixing with the alcohol in her already impaired system making a heady and dangerous concoction.

“You’re delib’rately using my PT career against me!” They we’re playing “Never Have I Ever.” And he’d just used “never have I ever measured somebody up with a big protractor.”

“Hey, you’ve been trying to get me with ‘never have I army this, and never have I army that.’ And you just can’t and now you’re mad about it.”

“Ugh, I’m not mad, I just…don’t like cheating okay. Fair play. I’m a Hufflepuff, through and through!”

“As a Gryffindor, I resent your implication against my honor! And I say, drink twice.” They’d run out of mixer, and were down to the straight liquor. She was fine with it. She loved the sweet, oaky burn of Number 7 as she held small swallows on her tongue. Relished the burn of it on the tender skin of her lips like a rough kiss. She took two shots at his insistence.

“Never have I ever…fired a gun!” And they both drank because she had chosen a “never” that she “had ever” on purpose. She liked feeling this way with Sy. She liked being able to abandon her control and feel safe in so doing. Knowing that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her. Including herself.

His eyes began to glimmer in a way that she could always tell meant he was thinking something particularly salacious. Which typically meant something good was about to happen.

“Never have I ever…fooled around in a kitchen.” He waited a beat, then slowly stood, taking a long stride to stand directly in front of Shane, towering over her as she sat limp from drinking and more than ready for whatever he was planning. The kiss he gave her was almost instantly hungry, devouring, consuming. A wild fire that would spread throughout the forest of her. He pulled a stool out from under the table near her, barely having to break the contact and sat down in front of her on it. She leaned into him now, the boneless feeling now overtaken by her craving for him. She tugged at his casual blue tank top that stunned her because of the way it matched his eyes so well. She needed him closer. His hands rested on her thighs, mostly bare in the shorts she'd chosen for tonight, simply for their comfort, and not because they provided any sort of easy access. Not on a conscious level, anyway, she told herself.

His grip was tightening but the pain of the pressure didn't matter. His thumbs and fingers were rupturing tiny blood vessels and she registered the pain and the fact that she would have bruises in the shape of his claiming grip but all that really mattered was that he was there. Near. Present. And touching her.  

His hands moved, sliding up her legs, their trajectory shifting inward, their aim to open her up to him.

She was nothing short of willing.

He reached down to the seat between her legs and pulled her closer to him. Yes, she thought. He's too far away. Even though she could smell the whiskey on his breath even as she tasted it, still sweet on her own tongue. He laid a gentle hand on her left cheek, an almost chaste gesture, that snaked into something entirely different as it descended, brushing her neck, between her breasts, and over her abdomen, tumultuous from his touch and the drink.

He made it finally to her apex, easily brushing aside the fabric of her shorts, and teasing her there over her underwear with a soft, measured touch. She threw her arms around his neck, a wordless plea for him to go on. But her body was at odds with her mind.

“Sy, I wanna go slow.” She meant she didn’t want to end up in his bed tonight. Well, not that she didn't want to…

"Don't worry, sunshine. I'll take it real slow." he assured her, pretending to misunderstand her meaning as he teased her over her panties. She couldn't have spoken to correct him even if his lips hadn't taken an urgent hold on hers. His firm but frustrating touch was leaving her speechless and breathless.

Finally, he moved her undergarment aside to touch her, skin to skin. To pull a sweet, euphoric moan from her with just his fingers. He had been right about taking his time. It took him ages to find that space inside her that brought her to her pinnacle, but he made the wait enjoyable, all the same. She had a feeling he could have gone right to it, if he’d wanted to, but since she’d asked for it…

He grinned and chuckled into her mouth a bit as he toyed with her. He finally spoke,

“Hot damn, girl, you should have told me you needed me this bad.” He added a second finger to his game of search and destroy.

She could only grasp at his bare shoulders and the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to ground herself. He quickened, then slowed in sweet torture until her cries of his name became over loud for his neighborhood. The last build up, he added his thumb , brushing it against her aching center.

It hit her in waves of bliss as every muscle in her body responded to his localized, expert touch. Her vision blurred and for a second she could see the electricity flowing through air and matter and into her. Since when did THAT happen to her when she came?

“Sy!” She whimpered, a plea for him to stop but also to never stop.

“I know, darlin’, it’s alright. I’ve gotcha. Go on and let it out.” And she barely realized another climax had been building in her before she was falling headlong into it again, just as intense as the first one. He slowed, gently soothing her body after its small death, rubbing her neck and shoulder on the right side with his free hand.

He took his right hand away from her heat, brought it up to his mouth, and tasted her on his fingers. He poured them both another shot of whiskey, they threw them back, and once she had caught her breath from it all, she said,

“I don’t know the score, but I think you’ve won.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the present, she felt too sober to handle the bombardment of questions coming from her coworkers, no matter how pure their intentions.

“So are you guys a couple, like officially?”

“Have you met each other’s folks?”

“Do you think he’s the one?”

“What is he like in bed!?”

“I bet he’s an absolute fiend!”

“Nah, guys ya think that about are always so vanilla.”

“How big is he!?”

All of these questions seemed to come at one time, or at least before she could answer the previous ones, and it made her head spin.

“Listen, girls. I’m gonna go get myself a strong drink, and when I come back, I’ll answer one question at a time, so figure out the order in which you’ll be asking, and a punishment system for interrupting. Fair?” The hens all nodded their beaks in agreement as she stood to go to the bar. She reminded herself to add a disclaimer when she got back to the table about having veto power over questions she felt weren’t appropriate.

As she stood at the bar waiting for her turn with the bartender, she tensed as she heard an all too familiar voice say her name.

“Shane Benton.” He said in a charming tenor that she now found obnoxiously boyish.

“Elliott Thomas. What misdeed did I do in a past life to end up back in the same room with you?” He ignored her jibe.

“You look well.” He said, surveying her as if he intended to make a purchase.

“Okay.” She would not give credence to half assed, insincere compliments.

“Who’s the guy you’re with tonight?”

“That couldn’t be any less your business.”

“You’ll always be my business, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Funny, you didn’t seem to give a shit when we were together.”

“Come on, tell me where ya met this meat head.”

“Back off, Elliott.”

“Come on. He’s in a plaid shirt. He looks like he’s trying to cosplay the Brawny man. How quick does he pick you up?” He raised his eyebrows, driving home his attempt at double entendre.

The rage came suddenly, without warning, and manifested in a firm slap from her right hand to his left cheek. It landed solidly enough for him to have to stretch his jaw and feel it, as if making sure it was still there.

"Well, still got some spunk. Good to know. Not so fast--" he grabbed her wrist as she stepped away from the bar, but she was saved the trouble of getting out of it with her favorite self-defense maneuver, by the solid wall of red plaid and denim topped with his favorite black Chiefs hat. Sy had apparently noticed her altercation at the bar and elected to step in.

"What's goin' on here?" he asked, not brusquely, but so coolly that it was almost friendly. Elliott let go of Shane's wrist immediately and threw his hands up.

"No trouble here, man. Just a little friendly conversation between two former lovers." he said, oozing pure, stinking hubris.

"Oh, you're Elliott. Nice to meet you, man." Sy reached out to shake the man's hand. "I've actually been wanting to thank you."

Elliott looked confused. So was Shane. This guy had broken her heart. What was Sy intent on thanking him for?

"I wanted to thank you for fucking up so bad with this kind, beautiful woman, this graceful and forgiving saint, that she couldn't stand the sight of you any longer. Who knows. If you hadn't been such a dick, she may not have been free to be with me today." all of this, Sy said with Elliott's hand still in his. Shaking it. Apparently not too firmly. Until Sy leaned in very closely and whispered something to Elliott that made him go several shades of puce, and grimace, pulling his hand away, which Sy eventually relinquished.

After Elliott had tucked his tail and ran away, Shane found herself in a far less merry temperament than she'd come in with. She and Sy decided to leave. They said their goodbyes, Shane promising more answers as soon as she could. And they left, her arm around his waist, and his around her shoulder.

About halfway to Sy's truck, Shane heard a solid ping near her ear and the shattering of glass on the pavement nearby, followed by a low growl from deep in Sy's chest. They halted in their stride, Shane turning quickly around, Sy turning more slowly and intentionally in the direction of his would be attacker.

Elliot stood beside the brick exterior of the bar with three other men, none of them within 50 pounds of Sy, and hardly a match for him…individually…but together, she was concerned. She would absolutely try to help fight these guys, but she couldn't take out more than one with the potential weapons she had on her person that she could inventory off hand. Plus, if she had to fight Elliott…he'd get into her head…she knew it. Thank God she didn't know the other guys. She'd hope to get one of them.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Sy said, back to his polite self, not worried about potentially getting into a street fight in which they were outnumbered two to one.

"Just thought you'd like to tell my buddies here what you said to me in there. I mean, I gave them the gist, but I think they'd like to hear it from you." Elliott puffed.

"Ah, somebody can't keep a secret." Sy sigh scolded him, wagging his finger at him as if he was a misbehaved child. "I was gonna let it all go as long as you left us alone. Did you mention that to them before you got them into a whole mess o' trouble?"

"Tell them, you fuckin' coward."

"Big talk from a guy who had to make it four to one before he confronted me." Sy accused.

"Four to two." Shane squared her shoulders, standing next to Sy, and attempting to make herself look more formidable, which was next to impossible given the fact that the man beside her was a massive army captain and she was just…herself. But she'd be damned if she stood by and let Sy take all of this on when it was all because of her. Plus, she didn't want him to reinjure himself.

"How about you jump in if I need ya, sunshine." He whispered to her. She didn't move or reply. "But ya know, since ya asked so nicely, I will oblige. I told this piss-ant friend of yours after he physically accosted this lovely lady here, in no uncertain terms that if he EVER touched MY GIRLFRIEND again, he'd be begging for death for hours before I had mercy on him and put him out of his misery and that his body would never be found." He eyed each of the men before him, his fiery gaze a physical force upon them, letting his promise to Elliott sink in. "Now if y'all wanna defend a man who would put hands on a woman, and then proceed to physically assault a United States Army veteran like myself, I can come up with similar guarantees for all of ya. And carry them out here tonight. But y'all look like ya've got a lot o' shit ya still wanna get done in this life with limbs and dicks intact. So I would encourage all of you fine gentlemen to walk away from this situation."

Two of the men, surrendered, claiming Elliott hadn't mentioned that he'd hurt Shane or that Sy was a vet. One of the men asked to shake his hand and thanked him for his service. The smallest member of Elliott's group, however, remained with him. Shane thought she recognized him after getting a better look. He'd been at a few events she'd been to with Elliott's friend group. She thought his name was Kyle. Clearly he was one of Elliott's oldest and most loyal friends. He still looked skeptical. Unsure that the two of them alone could take Sy. Shane thought he was right to be worried.

"Come on, Kyle!" Elliott summoned his friend to the fight.

"I dunno, man. He's a soldier and I mean…look at him. Look at us!"

"You pussy." Elliott walked up to Sy.

"You don't want to do this, friend." Sy warned.

"I'm not your friend, asshole. You stole my girlfriend." he swung wildly at the larger man, but missed. He was unsteady, Shane could see now, from excessive drink. She hadn't noticed inside.

Sy remained still for one punch that landed weakly on his jaw, barely displacing it. "Are you done, there, Mayweather? We even? Now that you got to hit me?"

"We are not done. Not until one of us is on the ground." Elliott insisted.

"Fair enough." Sy socked him with a jab straight to the nose, knocking him dizzily to the hard asphalt of the parking lot. Kyle came up to him to drag Elliott to a nearby car as his head lolled forward like a rag doll.

"I'll get him to the ER. Explain to them what happened. You guys get home safe. And thanks for not killing him. Or me." Kyle said as he opened his passenger door. Sy helped heave Elliott's comatose form into the seat and shook Kyle's hand.

Shane's eyes were still wide at the entire chain of events. Her adrenaline supercharged from her readiness to fight alongside her man. Which, she was both relieved and disappointed that she didn't have to do. But there was another thing on her mind. She had been mentally replaying what Sy had said to Elliott played over and over for more reasons than his chivalrous and heroic conduct.

When they were in the car and headed to her house, Shane asked him about it.

"So…you called me your girlfriend tonight." she looked at him.

"Shit, Shane, I'm sorry. I've been wanting to ask ya for days to make things official, and I just haven't found the right time. I was gonna ask you over drinks tonight in front of all your friends, but then that asshole fucked it all up. I even have a gift for you." he fished around in his pocket for a small, flat box, and handed it to her. She flipped up the spring loaded lid of the black velvet box, and inside, on a tiny pillow of black satin was a silver necklace with a silver charm. An "S" in an elaborate script with a small emerald set in the lower hook of the letter. "And if you don't want to make it official, you can still keep the necklace, because the 'S' can be for 'Shane,' and the stone can just be an emerald, and ya don't have to think about it like it's my birthstone, and I--"

"Sy, hush. Of course I want to be your girlfriend, officially. I've been dying to say it myself. And I love the necklace. It's perfect."

"Really? You mean it? All of it?" she'd never seen him so desperate. She had no idea why he thought she might not be serious. But she did have an idea of how to prove it.

"Stay with me tonight, Sy."

"It's still early yet, babe. I'll have plenty of time--"

"No, I mean, I want you. Tonight." How could she be more clear than that?

"Oh, you mean…but I thought you wanted to wait until my treatments were over?" He asked, as if he didn't want to get his hopes up just yet.

"When you were on the phone with my boss that day, you said something that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. Something that's gnawed at my will and resolve ever since. You said that life was too short, and you didn't want to wait to be happy when you could be happy now." she was verging on tears. "Well, I'm tired of waiting too, Sy. You make me happier than I've ever been, and I don't see the point in ignoring what we really want anymore. Because the fact is, Sy…the fact has been for a while now," she laughed at her own foolishness for stifling and ignoring it all this time, "I love you. And I think I have from the moment you first called me ma'am." She was fully crying now, and the tears had broken through down his cheeks, as well.

He pulled into her driveway and jumped out of his truck, still running, headlights blazing into her yard. He jogged around the front, but Shane, being uninjured had caught up to him without the benefit of a head start. He caught her up in his arms as if she'd stay there forever. They sobbed tears of joy and relief as they kissed each other with abandon, silhouettes against the footlights and exhaust courtesy of the Ford Motor Company, the PowerStroke engine roaring a soundtrack for this moment as it idled.

"I love you, Shane. From the moment you found me dreading therapy all alone that first day and cheered me up instantly. I knew." he brush the tears and hairs away from her face and held it, scrutinizing her features in the high-beams as if he intended to draw her from memory.

"I didn't know you were dreading it." she laughed, lightening the mood a bit.

"I was. A lot. Never had a lot of luck, especially recently, with PT. Until you."

She smiled, and looked at the truck, a third party to their romantic moment now more obvious to her.

"You're wasting gas."

"Hang the gas. I'm wasting time with you. You wanna go inside?" he asked. She nodded.

"You go get your purse. I'll be right around."

Sy shut off the truck and took his keys out, locking the vehicle from the fob after his arm was back around Shane and they were walking up her front porch steps.

Up Next: Chapter 10- Myofascial Release

[honestsycrets]

The Gilded Cage IV: Arranged By The Prophet

❛ pairing | ivar x reader, brother!oleg x sister!reader, Katya x Oleg

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | oleg makes a choice. the reader finds out some unsavory information about ivar-- and the old bulls keep cover

❛  warnings | Spankings, Angry!Oleg, Arranged Marriage, reprimanding, sneaking around, Katya being a bitch, Possessive!Oleg, incest (slightly nsfw)

❛ sy’s notes | igor is placed around ivar’s age at 4B, making ivar mid to late twenties in this piece.

“Get in,” Oleg says.

His bruising grip grinds down on your wrist. Waves of terror come over your chest-- not for your safety -- but for what reason had Oleg taken you away from your sweet, old bulls? In that moment, the trembling wall of muscle that is Oleg was what concerned you. Perhaps you upset him. His eyes are trained on you out of everyone, everything, and you don’t need to guess to know where he would take you. Only that as he shoves the door ajar, it slams behind him. He orders the guards standing watch in his room out.

“Oleg I--”

“Hush,” Oleg says curtly, cutting the distance to you in a short few furious strides. Your eyes train on his short black beard, legs quivering despite your innermost resolution to stand up to Oleg. Today would be the day! The day you told Oleg what you wanted of your life.

“You will stay in your room unless I call,” Oleg says, catching the loose edge of your furry robe, then the thin one underneath that. With a tug, he pulls both from your shoulders. A gasp slips from your lips, bunching your shoulders up to slide your arms around your breasts. “Enough.”

“Oleg--”

“Enough!”

Your mind is torn into bits when Oleg’s hand fell over your naked bottom with a harsh slap, causing your hips to jerk forward. A cry falls loose from your lips, marked out by another prompt smack. His palm radiates with heat from the blotchy red spot. You cradle onto the black and gold woven tunic, shuddering when another strike lands. Your round butt bounces after each powerful smack. Upon the fifth, you sob into his shoulder.

“Please--” through his heavy tunic, you get feel him-- the bulge that presses at your core. Your eyebrows knit together almost imperceptibly, but it’s something that Oleg catches when the last of his strikes finish upon your bottom. He draws his hand back, shaking off the tingles of excitement in his palm from your discipline.

“Do you know what showing off does to men?” He prompts a stupid question. Of course— you saw Ivar’s murky eye, washed over by the flood of lust. He wanted… something. If it was not Katya, could it have been you? And now… Your mind races as to why he hardened between the legs. Perhaps it’s his anger. A state where men excite themselves without realizing what they are doing.

Oleg snatches your wrist, taking it to his covered member, forcing you to feel the hardness that is there. Your eyes force shut, backing up until you hit his desk. One full of wooden shavings from Oleg’s newest statues of the first wife he once lost, freshly spilled ink, and parchment. He pinches your chin with firm, insistent pressure and forces you to gaze into his eyes.

“Well?” Oleg presses, an insipid smile splitting his lips. “Do you?”

“I…” you say after a while. “I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t,” Oleg leans forward, dropping the hand between his legs, scratching your neck with his finely trimmed beard. He hovers over you, words dappling across his skin. With a warm huff of air, he speaks against your neck. Flecks of heat break off against your neck. “You’ve never known a man because I have never allowed you to know one. I keep you safe! Me! Not Dir, nor Askold-- and not that lunatic.”

“Oleg… you are my brother,” you start, reaching for his beard. Your hands settle on his scratchy beard, caressing it with your thumb. He casts his glare aside at your next words. “Not my husband. Why would you discipline me like that?”

The way you say it settles wrong in Oleg’s mind. He rips his head around, catching you with a hot stare. “What difference does it make?”

You force him back, pressing your fingers to his lips to shush him. If it were anyone else, you might have thought something else than touching him in such a way. But this is Oleg. Your Oleg. Your sweet brother.

“What is changing?” you ask.

Oleg looks at you, dull and long, considering your words. There’s no answer to your question.

“I cannot tell anymore, Oleg, if you are angry with me or… aroused by me. The more sense I try to make, the less sense this makes. You have always been a good brother. Fair to me. But now I am… I…”

“Don’t make sense of nonsense, (Y/N). I am not aroused.”

If he weren’t aroused, what was… his hardness for? You convince yourself of what you previously speculated. It was a reaction to the adrenaline of your spankings. “Then what is your concern with Ivar and I?”

“None.” Oleg insists. “Because he isn’t interested in you.”

At his words, your stomach flares. Maybe it’s the insistence that Ivar had no interest in you. “What do you mean?”

“Katya has told me she reminds Ivar of his dear dead wife. So that show of your body? Wasted on him.”

If your body had been slick— excited for Ivar, it dried now. Ivar, you had thought, was excited for your body. Of course, you thought with Katya fucking Oleg, it could have easily been that… but something in you hoped.

“Oh,” you find yourself saying. It’s the best you could work out with a hot spike of disappointment in your eyes. “I see. She is the prize.”

Oleg dips down, lifting you into his arms, and settles into his grand bed. You fall to the side of him, in the middle, as Oleg strips his shift off. You’ve snuck below the sheets, burying your nose in pillows stuffed with bird feathers. He replaces himself behind your back, settling a small kiss to your shoulder.

“You are,” he commends to you.

You glance from your fingers which have bunched up the fabric under your head. Oleg’s fingers prod your hair away from your neck, placing a small kiss at the side of your neck this time. His lips drag, lingering there at your neck. His small puffs of hot air cause your shoulder to roll, almost laughing.

“Stop,” you say gently. “It tickles.”

“Bear with me,” Oleg hums. “It will be the last time.”

Tomorrow, Oleg would be marrying the strange princess. Despite your reservations to a woman you never knew, you attempted to keep a smile upon your face. After all, there was nothign you could do but support your brother. At his words you turn in bed, stroking your hands over his pale upper arms in consolation.

“You’ll leave me all alone again,” you tease. The last time-- you cringe to think of the dead woman far down under in that place you were forbidden to go. “I will be so lonely.”

“I have been thinking whom I might marry you to..”

“Should I not be married by now?” you tease Oleg gingerly. His head bows to watch your fingernails dancing across his arm. Then, sliding between your legs, his eyes wander over your breasts. You wonder what he’s thinking when his eyes surface again, dark and wild, lost and yet-- found.

“There have been proposals, my beautiful sister,” he admits. “But  I couldn’t accept.” Oleg tilts his head, inspecting your face framed by your long hair, spilling over the pillows beneath your head. His voice is almost even and tempered, but even then, you hear the distress wilting behind his words. “I would have to send you away.”

“I would not mind,” you say. “I would like this. To have a purpose more than… seeing children and sitting in my room.”

“I would,” Oleg replies. “Things are… complicated.”

“Do they need to be?” you protest, and lean up, placing a small kiss to the corner of his lip and cheek. Oleg’s eyes widen, clear with the confusion building. Behind his dark eyes, you find his thoughts racing. Your hands caress over his shoulders, cupping his jaws happily. A small, soft smile forms, causing your eyes to crest-like soft moons. “I would like the chance to start my own family, to make you proud.”

“You… think this would make me proud. To have you lay under some foreigner, let him fill you with his seed, have… children,” Oleg mumbles to himself. “Why would I have someone else take you away?” He looks toward you, looking for an answer to his question. There is none. Only the confusion in your eyes, waiting for this game of dancing around one another to meet its end.

Your chest pulls at his words as if all he needed to do was pull a loose seam for it all to come apart. Maybe he does-- because when he speaks again, it does come apart in front of his tight and pinched features.

“This, here, is where you belong. You are mine-- mine. My sweet, beautiful sister. I would not have someone fill you,” Oleg grates out. “I love you.”

“And I, you,” you say easily.

“I need you to stay with me.”

He asks too much of you. You suppose it is your fault for being there in his time of need, loving him like no other— but Katya should be his rock now. You stroke his hair. Smile. Caress the stress and hidden fear from his limbs.

“Sleep, Oleg. Your mind is full again.”

Oleg hums-- of course, he couldn’t just sleep on his own. Reaching deep in your heart, you pull forth a rhythmic hum. Something old and ancient, one carried on ethereal hums of your voice, raking your fingers through his dark, murky hair. A deep and old song professing your love-- for you dear, lost brother.

The wedding goes off without a hitch. You stood beside your sweet nephew, hands pressed together, his admiring eyes twinkling at Ivar. The boy seems to admire Ivar a good amount. As a young man who has recently become a man, you know how important a figure like Ivar is.

“I have an announcement,” Oleg spoke smoothly from his side of the table. Katya glances over to her new husband. A curl of amusement on her lips.

“What is it?” Ivar says jovially.

“The night in the bathhouse revealed a vision to me, my sweet.” Oleg leans over, flicking your chin to force it to raise. You force a smile.

“What have you seen?”

Oleg glances over to Katya who slides out of her chair and walks over to seize your shoulders. “You will marry Prince Igor,” she informs you. “When the time is right.”

“I… why?” you plead as you glance over to Oleg. Your brother cranes his head, working on a indignant smile.

Ivar, who usually holds his silence, parts his lips for the sake of his young prince. In his words, you hoped he would see reason. “He is a young man— and she is his aunt.”

“These are plans for the future, Ivar.” Oleg offers up his hands from their folded position. “It is not an immediate bond— like it would be if I were to marry her, they are removed. It will be fine.”

You push out from Katya’s hands, gripping your embroidered dress as you come behind him. Your head bows and you whisper gently in his ear. “You’re punishing me.”

“You wound me, my darling. Come here.” His hands stretch toward your hips and you avoid them, storming past Vasilii and Dmitrei who fall in line behind you. Both of which hold frozen gazes as they guide you from the room.

Clipping behind you, as you hear your name again called out. Your hands slap against your hips, whirling around to the expectation of Oleg. Standing there is not Oleg, but Ivar, straining to catch up to your long steps. You even your steps to a stop.

“Yes?”

“Come to my room tonight.”

Just after saying that, he disappears down the hall. You look between Dmitrei and Vasilii, both of whom leer back at you. It was a bad idea— you admit it to yourself as you walk back to your rooms. Vasilii and Dmitrei enter first. Both searching the room. They resurface as you take out the jewels from your ears. Oleg’s pups come beside you, sitting and waiting.

“Vasilii,” you glance over your shoulder, slipping the temple rings free. “What do you think?”

“Of what, Princess?”

“Of seeing King Ivar tonight,” you say. “Oleg informed me Princess Katya reminded him of his wife. That is who he was aroused for.”

“If you would like to see him,” he looks between Dmitrei and the wall behind him. “Do so. We will make cover.”

Oleg had been clear. You would not leave that room. But he had also been clear— you would marry within the family. To keep his selfish interests near to home. You ran a comb through your long hair, at last standing up, and plucking what clothes you had laid out for bed.

“Hm,” you mutter. “We will see.”

We will see became an agonizing fight of when to leave. To early, and Oleg’s men would be patrolling. Too late, and Oleg’s men would be waking from their half shift slumber. In the middle, you noted. At the very least you could say you went— out of respect for him.

Vasilii guides you past the guard. His cousin whom easily bought into his words. You slip between the two of them and into Ivar’s chambers. As suspected, Ivar is fast asleep. His head rests on his pillow, blankets drawn over his naked back. The moonlight streams on his pale skin. You unwind your headscarf and set it aside in a chair, slipping out of your shoes and approaching the bed.

“You’ll have to forgive me, my dear Viking.” You whisper, caressing the loose strands away from his face. A handsome jawline, cut cheekbones and broad nose— he looks as you remember him. Your fingers graze his full sideburns, running the expanse of his jaw with ghost like touch. “Oleg has forbidden me from leaving my room. I am like one of his dogs, trapped until he makes use of me.”

Making use of you— using his bond with you to secure his hold on the crown. Undoubtedly; he thought he might use you in regards to Igor. That was why this marriage was arranged. You are sure of that.

“It will be too dangerous to visit again. Goodbye,” you kneel before him, leaning in to set a chaste kiss to his lips. In his contorted position, you are barely able to scrape your lips over his. And yet— as quickly as you do so, a hand seized your wrist at the side of the bed. You’re suddenly flung onto his bed with a bounce.

“Oh!” you squeak.

“It’s you again,” the Viking says, as if it’s an afterthought. His hand grasps your chin, forcing you to look up to him. His body encompasses you. His slender hips fit nicely between your splayed open legs. “Why do you only kiss me when I sleep?”

“I… you were awake?”

“I am a man on the run,” he states. You acknowledge that much. “And you are a loud princess.”

“Loud?” you repeat after him. All this time— you thought you were quiet.

“You don’t exactly speak quietly.”

There was truth in that. Oleg never questioned how loudly you spoke. Your cheeks warm underneath him, never having been so close to a man who wasn’t Oleg. Dir… Dir was different. He held you in different esteem. As did Askold, who gave you limited affection, due to Oleg’s nature.

“I wanted to see you.”

“That much is clear,” Ivar teases, relaxing onto his forearm, sandwiching your body underneath his own. He’s built… thickly. Your eyes flutter shut, trying to think of anything but his large frame on top of you. It’s impossible. Even the fluffy bedsheets are no distraction to Ivar’s large body. He smells like honey and mead. “You kissed me. You must have enjoyed it.”

“I’m-- I’m sorry. I did not mean to insult you.”

“An insult?” Ivar laughs. “I’ve never been kissed in my sleep by a princess.”

You settle your hands on his forearms with nothing else for them to do. Your cheeks are, yes, pink. Embarrassed. Shy. But… you’re damningly interested when Ivar leans in again. “I see why Oleg is so fond of you.”

“Why?”

Ivar doesn’t respond, not at first, simply running his eyes over your neck to the coin necklace you wore. It is large, made up of adorned balls, then beautiful coins with encrusted jewels. His finger taps one for emphasis, catching Oleg’s marred name. His eyes flicker back up-- toward yours, and you can’t discern the emotion behind his eyes entirely.

“You’re so innocent.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke​ @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa​, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44​ @readsalot73​ @squirrelacorngliterfarts​ @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl​ @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​ @beyond-the-ashes @supernaturalvikingwhore @mblaqgi​ @wuxiesalt @hopplessdreamer​ @therealcalicali​ @rekdreams-fandom @moondustmemories @athroatfullofglass @poisonedjoinery​ @strangunddurm @shookforyoojung​ @peachesnpisces @tierneygonzalez @hexqueensupreme @nohemi2500 @queenmissfit @alicedopey @dmv49 @sallylebecks @terrainhead @mybarnesmyhero @youurkryptonite @lif3snotouttogetyou @vikingsmania @looneytunes20033 @bat-fam-blob @oneofthelothbroks @lovelynerdytraveler @chinduda @whatamood13 @honeyofthegods @ilvebeenabad @queenbeeta @heavenly1927 @holydream @kingniazx @cynthianokamaria @starrmoondaisy @tgrrose @stillreadingfantasy @the-jess-life​

[cavillkingdom]

‘One in a million.’

Part 2

Note: I decided to write the Platinum's events happening from Raleigh's point of view, so it'll definetly have dialogues from the original story. I hope you like it.

Part 1

M!Raleigh x MC (Juliet Evans/Angel)

Rate: G

Words count: 2252 words.

Tag list: @valtorian-duchess @perriewinklenerdie @lovedrakewalker @heauxplesslydevoted @ironsmaug @choicesgirl94 @furiouscloddonutpeanut @teamdrake27 @umiumichan @blackwidow2721 @companion-mala @emceesynonymroll @madaboutchoices @sparesomediamonds @sophrosinn @nikkisha16 @mile9213 @livedinawomansworld @emomoustache @rosaquesalz @dearlavenderwitch @ccolz88-blog @makitokito @lumielikesbooks @grumpyramsey @paidamarceline @thequeenchoices

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Another day at the backstage of One in a Million, Raleigh would never admit it, but he was enjoying himself as he watched the team trying to catch any moment of intimacy between the mentors and their contestants. While he tuned his guitar against a wall, far of prying eyes, he saw Juliet and Avery hugging, kissing as they waved bye-bye to the cameras.

“That's enough mugging for the camera. Juliet and I have got some work to do.” Avery stopped the camera man in the middle of his sentence, in a sweet way that only Avery Wilshere could do.

Raleigh put down his guitar and approached the duo.

“Back in the ring, huh?” He smiled.

“Nothing more than she can handle. Isn't this right, Juliet?” Avery smiled big to Juliet.

“If I can tackle these cameras, I can tackle this mentorship session.” She answered excited.

“That's the spirit. It's all about making the press work for you.” Raleigh said smiling as he greeted some fans who were nearby as the cameras tried to keep up with him. He had fun with that, had fun watching as they ran after him like crazy. He couldn't help to look back at Juliet, who watched his every move and laughed nonchalantly.

He approached again as Juliet and Avery talked to Fiona Syed, Avery's publicist. He got involved into that chatter and Juliet managed to push Avery and Raleigh to a possible collab.

“You barely know me and there you are, giving me a hard time.” Raleigh laughed shaking his head.

“First of all, you were the one who decided to joke about it. I just gave my opinion.” She said as she smiled slyly to Raleigh. “Second, a collab between the two of you? Oh, come on, Raleigh, I can practically see it at the top of the charts right now.” She said as she laughed. “It'll be the best of both worlds.”

“There's one hell of a chance that mothers stop loving you, Avery.” Raleigh considered and Avery laughed in surprise.

“Don't worry about it. That's very much impossible.” Juliet assured. “They'd probably choose to believe that his good manners and golden boy's ways would just be a good influence on you.”

“Oh, geez... If that's the case, I'm already sorry for them.” Raleigh said immediately.

“Keep tellin' yourself that, Carrera. You may fool all those people out there, but I'm getting to know you better than that.” She smirked at him and he laughed.

“You wish, Evans.” Raleigh shrugged and Juliet laughed.

“Well, we have to go now." Avery spoke as he laughed at the conversation. “We'll see you later, Raleigh.”

They both said goodbye and left Raleigh behind. He continued to socialize with some fans and then he found a spot where he could stay hidden from absolutely anyone trying to find him. Juliet was a constant thought, much to his own dissatisfaction.

Sometimes he found himself thinking about the way she interacted with everyone, always smiling, always making positive comments, but at the same time, she was a little bit snarky and sassy. She was fun and, not to mention, hot as hell. She was always seeing the best on everything, he tried, but he couldn't ignore the fact that she got to see beyond his barriers so easily that could be annoying.

And there were only two days since the day they've met.

“She barely knows me. It won't take long until she's just another one in the infinity list of people who have been disappointed on Raleigh Carrera.” He thought sighing as he strummed the strings on his guitar.

“Oh, damn!” She said as she stopped halfway. “Sorry, I've thought that there was nobody in here.” She apologized as she turned around facing the way she came from.

“No, wait!” Raleigh called her making her turn to face him again. He realized something was wrong. Every time they bumped into each other, Juliet was always positive, but at that moment, it was as if a dark cloud hung over her head. “What’s wrong?”

“There's nothing wrong.” She answered quickly and he laughed.

“Ok, kitten, you're gonna have to do better than that to get me convinced.” He arched an eyebrow and she stared at him for a few seconds before she sighed loudly. “So are you going to tell me what's wrong or I'll have to guess?” He asked and she gave him a tired smile.

“Why do you care?” She asked, the smile still playing on her lips. Not even he knew why, but it was strange to see her that way.

“Well, you're always butterflies and rainbows at all times. It's so weird to see you in this full ‘doom and gloom' mode. I just got curious.” He responded with a shrug and she let out a laugh.

“Oh, Carrera... You do care.” She smiled mockingly.

“That's why I don't ever deal with people.” He rolled his eyes and she laughed out loud.

“Yeah, right.” She mocked.

“Ok, kitten, you're going to lunch with me.” He informed before she could deny or accept anything. “And get ready to taste the best deep-dish pizza you'll ever have.” He guaranteed.

“Isn't this a Chicago thing?” She asked with a frown.

“You can trust me to found any food at any place.” He laughed smugly. “Don't ask too much, Juliet. The best things in life aren't explainable. You just have to enjoy.” He said and she laughed nodding.

“Fine.” She agreed. “But lunch is on you.” She said receiving a frown from him. “What? You're rich and I just quit my job. Suck it up, Carrera. You're paying for it.”

“Where did I get myself into?” He sighed dramatically, receiving a wry look from Juliet.

They went to a nearby restaurant, Raleigh ordered and asked to wrap up for taking. Raleigh and Juliet walked together to the city park, it was so desert at that time of day. It was mostly visited for teenagers before and after school time and mothers with their babies for their morning walks. They found a great spot under a tree's shadow. They sat there and started to dig into their food.

“That was a great deep-dish pizza.” She admitted and he smiled with his mouth stuffed, making her laugh at him. “Oh, God... You're such a child!”

He swallowed his mouth's content and smiled back at her “Told ya. You should have a little bit more of faith in me, kitten.”

“Why the hell you keep calling me that?” She asked as she looked at him.

“Don’t you know?” He asked her teasingly. She rolled her eyes but smiled after a few seconds.

“Oh, it's ‘cause you think I'm so cute?” She asked blinking her green eyes at him with a sly smile.

“What?” He laughed at her and she smiled bigger.

“Don't deny it!” She commanded and he laughed again.

“Actually, it's because there was a lot of tigers so ready to swallow you alive yesterday and you looked like a tiny little kitten around them.” He said expecting her to bark out a laugh, but her face has fallen apart. “What's wrong?”

She lowered her head shrugring. “It doesn't matter.” She said sighing.

“Oh, come on, Juliet.” He said annoyed. “You know you can tell me.” He didn't even know why he cared about that. He just met her, it's not like they were close enough for him to care.

But he cared, for some reason.

“It's exactly what you said.” She said sadly. “I'm a little fish in the ocean, surrounded by big sharks who are ready to eat me alive.” She looked at him seeming so weak, so insecure. “And right before I saw you, I've founded Fiona and she basically said to me that was very much likely that America wouldn't vote for me. That I needed to have a story to feed them.”

Raleigh sighed as he thought about how Juliet had crossed paths with someone as calculating as Fiona Syed before she was even famous. On the one hand, it was bad. She wasn't used to this fake world of the celebrities, so the truth could be brutal, but on the other hand... He was relieved to know that Juliet would have someone who would not bother to embellish the truth, no matter how bad it was. She would go straight to the point and probably guide her into a, ever-so-practical, path. That would probably make Juliet grow a thick skin.

“See? Kitten.” He said and she glared at him, making him laugh at her. “Come on, Juliet. Look how far you've come! You were at a big ocean yesterday, with tons of sharks ready to devour each other and here you are. You are at the top three. You see yourself as a little fish, but the biggest of the sharks, according to you, went home. Face it, kitten, you are one of the big sharks, deal with it. So, you’ll go back there and you'll ask Fiona what will you do to turn this table. Trust me, if there's someone that can make it happen, this one is Fiona Syed.”

“Are you serious?” She was looking almost offended but he laughed again.

“Dead serious.” He said. “And don't think that I'll make it easier for you. You'll have to earn it.”

“Raleigh Carrera!” She was almost smiling.

“What? I've paid for lunch. Now you'll do whatever you have to do to win this thing.” He said. “Don't let me down, kitten.”

“Will you ever stop calling me that?” She looked at him with an eyebrow arched and he smiled.

“Hell no, kitten.” He laughed and she threw one of the empty pots at him, laughing.

They went back to the building. Juliet went after Fiona and Raleigh went back to avoid all of those people. He believed he had done enough, he just stayed there “just in case". He already talked to the contestants and already flirted for the cameras with, basically, everyone he had to. He was so ready to head home, but before he could dream about it, Juliet busted into the auditorium with a big smile on her face, asking for everyone to follow her.

“What the hell?” He whispered when he got close to her.

“Shush. You'll see in a minute.” She waved a hand dismissively at him.

Everyone followed her to another auditorium nearby. The space had been decorated, there was a dance floor, lots of food and a DJ. Juliet smiled big at Avery and to the cameras.

“That's enough of work. It's time for us to party!” She said receiving excited screams of every one of the crew. Raleigh waited until Juliet talked to everyone and interacted with the cameras before he went to her.

“What's your game?” He asked smiling at her.

“I'm here to win.” She said smiling with such confidence that made Raleigh smile with her once again.

“Aw, shucks... You're growing up!” He mocked as she punched his arm. “But, if you ask me, it's not a great party if the dance floor is so empty.”

“You should be the first to hit it.” She said with a defiant look that made him laugh.

“You are so right, kitten.” He walked from her going into the dance floor. He started to dance the choreography of one of his music videos.

“That's a low blow, Carrera.” She said as he smiled at her.

“What? Think you can't handle?” He asked teasingly and she smiled.

“Well, I don't think we need to keep score.” She said softly, dancing close to him as he smiled big.

“It's like you were reading my mind.” He gave her a sexy smile as he wrapped his arm around her waist. He could see the cameras around as they caught every little movement of Raleigh and Juliet on the dance floor, but for the first time, the cameras weren't making him pissed. He was actually enjoying that. Having her so close, smiling so beautifully at him, totally relaxed as she danced in his arms. He could deal with that. If that's all that he had to do, then he was just fine.

Avery and the rest of the crew joined Raleigh and Juliet on the dance floor. They all danced together and had the best time after the day they had.

“How are you feelin’?” Raleigh asked as he approached Juliet by the buffet.

“So much better!” She said relieved. “And so grateful that Fiona and I could work something that wouldn't make me feel like a complete fraud.”

“Don't worry about it, kitten. You get used to it.” He said with a smirk. “No one in the industry is who they say they are.” Raleigh laughed.

“So, are you telling me that you're not that rebellious, selfish and irresponsible heart breaker everybody knows?” She raised an eyebrow at him. He opened his mouth to answer her, but instead, his mouth was hanged open as he figured out what to say. “Oh, my sweet Lord. Have I made you speechless?” She said with a playful smile on her face.

“Oh, shut up!” He said pushing her arm playfully as she laughed at him. “You’re better dancing than saying that senseless stuff.”

He liked her and he was happy that she had found her pace. He wasn't ready to see her go and he was hoping that this time, where they’ll need to say goodbye, never really comes.