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melioraskz · 2 months ago

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Rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife.

A/N : I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… this wasn’t based on anything in particular and is definitely not historically accurate, this is just another universe LOL!

Warning : brief mention of SA, mentions of whores, homophobia (not by any of the characters, just mentioned in a backstory!), giving head (female receiving), tiny hint of overstimulation, almost caught in the act, probably forgot something lol ! NOT PROOFREAD !!!

(Pirate) Han Jisung x (afab) Reader

Summary : After being captured by a gang of bandits you get saved by a mysterious man called Jisung, what you don’t know is that he is in fact something your parents always warned you for, a pirate.

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“Stay away from me!”

“Wow wow wow little lady, relax. I’m not going to harm you” the man in front of you said with his hands up in the air in surrender despite the small yet devilishly sharp knife still laid between his thumb and index finger.

“Do you want my help or not?” He asked, raising a brow as he looked at you up and down.

“I’ve got everything under control, thank you very much” you spat back, sighing deeply as you try to once again squirm out of the tight robe that was around your body and hands.

Everything was in fact not under control. There you were, bound to the pole, hands tied behind your back and hair stuck to your face with the sweat from your forehead, breathing heavy with your dress half cut up by the bandits who took you capture. Despite their desperate tries you had manage to keep them away from you enough for them to not take it further than some disgusting groping and touched here and there. However despite your deadly looks you shot their way it couldn’t take away the looks of desire they shot in your direction as another one tried to cut off a button of your blouse…

The aggravating man who had jumped on board of the ship all cocky started to whistle as he sat up on the edge of the boat, carelessly taking the knife and removed some dirt under his finger nails. “Just let me know when you need my help, missy” he sung, acting all nonchalantly as if he wasn’t also on a bandit ship, all alone against the 30 men that could show up any second. Not that you had any hope that he would survive one of the men for that matter. They were all buff, scary with scars everywhere, you could tell they were up to no good. This guy? He was skinny, lanky built, curly brown hair and despite his aura feeling like he would be a big man… he was quite a short guy.

“Fine, just get me out of here before they come back” you mutter, the guy looking up at you, stopping mid-through the melody he was whistling. Then he shook his head and his lips left a few of tsk tsk tsk to show his displeasure. “What sort of lady are you? Not even a simple please? I’ve met whores down at the red district with more charm and politeness than you” he stated and rose a brow. That awful awful cockiness would drive you mad but you were desperate.

“Please can you help me out of these fucking ropes? I’m not planning on becoming these bandits slave or sex toy” you state, earning a pleased smirk by the mysterious guy who by ease jumped down from the edge and walked up to you. He then easily cut off the rope using the knife before he put it back into the holder in his belt.

“There we go, now I suggest we leave before those idiots come back” he says, a smug smile on his lips. Within a second you had stepped away from the damn pole, singing deeply as you rubbed your previously tied up wrists with your hands to ease the irritation that the rope had caused. “Thanks” you sigh, walking over to the edge and looked out at the dock, multiple ships stood there and you could hear the muffled sounds of parties and people if you looked out to the town ahead of you… “where even are we?” You sigh, not sure where they had taken you, surely from the accent of the man it was far away from your home…

“Welcome to Incheon city, ma’am! The place filled with dreams, nightmares, whores, pirates and a great amount of cheap alcohol” the man burst out, now somehow standing on the edge walking around as if it wasn’t a 10 meter drop down to the ice cold water below. “Oh fuck! I’m Jisung, by the way, Han Jisung” he added. “It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?” He asked proudly.

You were about to answer when you heard a voice behind you.

“She has escaped!” A roaring man’s voice yelled as he had climbed up the ladder on the other side. You remembered that man very well, after all he had tried to fuck you at least seven times since your capture a few days ago. Along with him came 4 others, you look back at Jisung with panicked eyes, but you were met by a pair of awfully calm ones. He let out a sigh in displeasure, almost as if he thought the whole ordeal were just bothersome.

“Alright boys, let’s say after me” Jisung started, grabbing one of the robes that the bandits used to climb up to the watch tower. “If you are despite to get a quick fuck, go to a whore house, not kidnap someone” he then continued, cutting the rope off with the knife he had previously used on the ropes that had you tied up. Then before the men could reach you he swung in the rope, using his legs and made 2 of the men fall to the ground in a loud groan. That’s when he grabbed both of the men’s revolvers, tossing one of them to you, which you catch in pure panic. Looking at the man, he easily got all men on the floor, despise them being twice his weight. “Close those pretty eyes for me, pretty lady” Jisung instructed, as if it was an instinct you did exactly like he said and as soon as your eyelids had fallen down so all you saw was darkness the ship echoed with a shot, another another, another and-

“All done, missy” a voice said, opening your eyes you saw the men’s lifeless bodies on the wooden floor, blood painting the deck that poured out of their head. It wasn’t the first time you had ever encountered a dead body before but it was certainly the first time seeing so much blood at the same time, despite being outside you swore you could smell the stench of iron in the red dark liquid ahead of you. Jisung however didn’t give you the luxury to take in the scene for more than a few second, he had other plans. He grabbed the rope he had used before and swung in it, grabbing your waist as you let out a screech, holding onto him with all dear might. You were certain you’d fall straight into the ice cold water below but before you could think twice you felt your feet hit a steady familiar sensation. You open your eyes you had no clue that you even closed in the first place and there you were, still holding onto the man with all your might but standing on the ground below…

“We should leave before more men come back and notice the tiny little mess I caused on their ship” he stated, you realise how damn close he was to your body… your heart beating fast in your chest, perhaps it was the adrenaline of being rescued or seeing the dead bodies that flooded through you, perhaps it was for the fact that this bold man had laid his hands on you and it wasn’t for the wrong intentions, at least that’s what you thought it was?

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The music was loud, people chit chattering even louder, women with dresses that enhances the chest area was practically fucking some men in the corners. But after what you went through? The dodgy bar that Jisung took you to was a luxury hotel from what you had been dealing with capture at that ship…

You get snapped out of your thoughts with about bang, in front of you stood now a large pint of beer, fizzing and foaming up to the edges. Jisung then sat down and took a large chunk of his own pint he still held in his hand. “There we go, don’t worry, the beer is on me. I figured you’d need it after that whole experience. I doubt those shitheads knows how to feed a lady” he stated, chuckling a bit, using the other chair next to him as a stand for his feet as he let out a groan in relief. “Now, what was that name of yours? I didn’t get catch it last time”

“My name?”

“Your name”

“Oh, right. It’s Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N” you whispered. When you said your surname you saw how Jisung choked on his beer, almost spitting it out again in shock. He hit his chest repeatedly until the beer had gone down the right pipe again.

“Fucking hell? As in the Y/L/N-clan? You’re their daughter? You’re a fucking high class noble woman! How the fuck did you end up captured by them then? Isn’t that miles and miles away?” He asked. Looking at you with huge eyes, the foam of the beer had given him a light moustache. You let out a slight giggle from the look on his face, then you take a big chunk of your own beer.

“I ran away, they set you marry me away 4 days ago, that night I couldn’t take it, I hated that old man they set me up with, he was at least three times my age but the wallet weight more than my family’s love for me I suppose. What I didn’t calculate for was that I’d be captured in the middle of the night by those men who had no idea who I was, so they said they’d keep me as their whore, slave or both. I sailed stuck to that pole until this evening, so thank you for saving me, I wish I could repay you but I don’t have anything of worth on me” you whispered, feeling a flood of guilt flush over you, he had saved your life and you couldn’t even repay him?

“I’m not asking for a payment, Y/N. I saved you because I felt like it, not from the goodness of my heart, not from whatever your noble brain can come up with, I saved you because I was bored and saw you on their deck. Alright? No need to pay me” he stated. Crossing his feet over the other on the chair next to him.

“But there must be something-“

“Enough. I don’t need anything I promise, we’re alright” he said quickly. Looking directly into your eyes. You could feel your heart beat faster again… it could possibly not be adrenaline now, right? For sure he is handsome, but is he even your type? Do you even have a type?

“So what will happen with you now? I’d say get a new dress is your first option, you can’t walk around with your tits almost hung out unless you want someone to accuse you for being a whore” Jisung stated, which made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You quickly tried to gather the material that was left from what the men had cut off, looking down at your ripped and ruined clothings...

“I have no money and nowhere to go, but do not worry about me, I’ll find a way” I say calmly, smiling in a reassuring manner, even if you were terrified. When you had ran away from home you had no plan, you just knew you had to get out of there before it was too late…

“I may have an old dress or two for you to get, neither of my mates will mind, it’s not like they walk around in a skirt ever..”

“Your mates?”

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Your chest was beating faster than ever, you felt like you’d pass out any moment…

“You’re a pirate?”

Your entire life your parents had warned you about the pirates that hunted the seven seas. They took what they wanted, murdered, fucked the women and ran off, your father had always said if you ever had the displease of coming a cross a pirate run away and don’t look back before you call the local sheriff. Perhaps if you had heard about this before he rescued you, you’d agree to your father’s words but now? Especially after spending a couple hours with the man you had come to quite enjoy his company. A sexy man who seemed charming enough with perhaps a bit too big of an ego than you’d like, how could he be such a criminal? Being a pirate is a death sentence if you get caught, you won’t even get a trial? Why would this man choose this path of life?

“What did you expect?” Jisung asked in an amused tone as he practically carried you up the rope to his ship, placing you down on the edge of the ships railing, letting you sit there as he climbed on the other side and then carried you bridal style over to the deck where he sat you down carefully.

“I thought you-“

“Were a man of honour and prosperity? Ma’am you’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for a hero or a good man” he stated as he fumbled up a key that was hooked on a piece of string around his neck underneath his shirt. He then unlocked the giant trap door leading to the inside of the ship. You both climb down there, you were met by the stench of rum and seawater which made you make a slight grimace.

“We should have some women’s clothing down here from when we raided this noble family all the way in Busan. Like fuck you should have seen those dumb posh faces when-“ he stopped himself, realising that you may take offence by his harsh words about the upper class since he now knew you were upper class as well. “Sorry..”

“No offence taken. To be quite frank, there is a reason I left that place, no money in the world could make me feel happy in that hell. I may have lived in a mansion but that mansion was a jail impossible to break out of in my eyes” you say, sighing deeply as you start to look around through bits and bobs that was scattered around the room. “To be honest I’m envying you. You’re free, away from responsibilities, marriage, birthing children, preferably sons and don’t even get me started on the dreadful gatherings, all the noble ladies wanted to speak about was money of men. I’m tired of it..” you say, slowly turning to a desk with a bunch of documents and paper on it, on the top of a shelf that stood right above the desk was a picture in a frame of 8 young men next to the very ship they were in right now, you could easily pick out where Jisung were despite the low resolution of the picture, with his arm around one of the other guys with a huge smile on his mouth.

“That’s my crew, you see the one with the hat is our leader, or captain, Chan is his name. It started when him and I met all the way in Australia where we stole this glory out of some poor bastard who used it for the queens guards, we decorated it and then before we could leave Australia we met this poor bloke called Felix who joined us” Jisung explained, then pointing at a guy with long bright hair who was winking with one eye. “He already had a huge penny on his head at home after his father found out he was a homosexual, we took him in, we don’t give a fuck who he sticks his dick inside, he is our brother nonetheless” he stated.

“That’s very beautiful if you ask me. You claim to be a bad person but a bad person wouldn’t do that” you explained slowly, looking at him, realising he stood right behind you, with his head almost hanging over your shoulder so that he also could view the old frame, you slowly chew on the inside of your cheek… he really was handsome for a pirate… Han clear his throat before he continues, slowly feeling a bit unease by her words, why would a lady like her truly find him, a criminal, that good?

“Well we figured as we were going to be pirates we already would have a straight way to the gallons if caught, adding hiding a gay man on the list didn’t seem too bad” Jisung stated, looking at you for a few seconds before his eyes quickly turn to the picture again.

“And that’s Seungmin and Jeongin, we met them finally enough at that raid in Busan, they joined us quickly, they’re young but extremely fun and always tells the best stories when we are up late at night around a campfire” he explains with a slight smile. “Oh and that’s Changbin, Hyunjin and Minho. Minho is second captain after Chan, he is also the head cook, probably the only one of us that can actually cook well. Changbin is also the fastest at climbing ropes you’ll ever see! I swear we have accused him of being a witch at least fourteen times!” He explained, smiling at himself as he thought of his dear friends. “And a little secret, we are fairly sure that Felix has had sex with Hyunjin before, we don’t know when but there is something with the way they act…However, whenever we try to get some information out of them they bulge, what a dumb bunch for thinking we’d judge them” he explained and laughed. “They’re all dumb but… they’re the only family I have left”

“Where are they now then?” You ask, realising you hadn’t even seen a trace of any of the said men since you entered the ship.

“Oh they’re in town, probably getting fucked up with all the alcohol, that was my plan too until… yeah” Jisung admitted. “I’m sorry for ruining your plans, Jisung” you sigh as you quickly turn around, face as close as it could be without touching from each other, his eyes looking almost black in front of you due to the lack of light in there… your heart racing faster and faster, he was dangerously close to you, with one hand resting on the shelf behind you, trapping you between the desk and his body…

“Trust me… I’m glad I had my plans changed, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you” Jisung whisper, you can feel his breath against your skin, keeping you eyes at him you slowly placed one hand on his chest that was slightly exposed due to the buttons he had unbuttoned. You swore you could see a slight smirk on his lips perk up. You could feel his hand that wasn’t against the shelf behind you travel to your lower back in a firm get gentle grip.

Before you could even think of what you were doing, you kissed him. You didn’t know what went through your head fuck you liked it. You could taste the beer you had previously had in your mouth as the kiss progressed, deepening and becoming more rough as you became familiar with each other. He hadn’t even questioned it as he had kissed you back the moment your lips met his.

The kiss was hot, breathy, yet you felt more relaxed with this man than you had ever done with a man at home. You felt how his hand that was on the shelf met your hip on the opposite side as the other before he easily lift up up and placed your ass on the table behind you. Then for a moment he broke the kiss before his mouth traveled along your mouth down to your neck and collarbone. You let a moan slip through your lips, the only sound echoing through the walls was the sounds of your heavy breaths along with whatever sound the sea could make from the shore.

His mouth leads its way back to yours, unable to stay away from it for too long. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth for you. When you feel his tongue meet yours, blistering electricity shocks down your spine in pure lust. You kiss him harder, his tongue mapping out every inch of yours as if he is in search of the lost treasure in there. He pulls your legs apart so he can stand right between them, feeling his body pressed against yours. You let his hands roam your body, then as he grabs some of the poor material that still held your chest in decent coverage and you hear a loud skrratch. That fucker tore it! As if it was barely anything to tore anyways… his hands cupped your breasts, breathing heavy into your mouth. His hands was fucking cold, but oh it felt so good. He then stop kissing you for a moment, looking into your eyes as both tried to desperately catch your breaths. The tension was electrifying.

“Can I fuck you?” He ask out of the blue after a few seconds of being silence.

As the words left his mouth it took you by a surprise, asking that question when your tits was already free for him when you had willingly had him like this. Almost a comedic moment and a rather funny timing on his part. Instead of answering you grabbed his shirt, giving him a wet kiss on the mouth. He took that sentence as a yes.

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You had never met a pirate before, let alone fucked one. But there you were. He had somehow managed to move you from the desk to the floor. His shirt tossed somewhere along the way along with his trousers. Your upper part of the dress torn a long time ago but your long skirt still intact, him? He was under your skirt between your legs, licking long stripes on your pussy, holding his strong hands around your thighs, partly for keeping you from closing them around him, partly because himself needed something to hold on to.

Your moans echoed through the room, your legs trembling as you covered your upper part of the face with your hand, moaning louder. His mouth doing wonders down there as you were slowly feeling like you’ll reach your peak any moment now.

“I’m gonna cum, Jisung” you breathe out, heavy breaths making it almost impossible for you to say a full sentence.

“Then cum for me, darling” he growled from under your skirt, a loud slap echoed as you felt his hand slap ass. That slap was almost like the last thing you needed, you felt the knotting feeling in your lower stomach build up to the point where it overflow. You let out a breath of pleasure as you came, breathing heavy as you tried to catch your breath. You felt how Jisung kept licking up every single drop of you, feeling your legs turn into jelly as you tried to catch your high along with handling the overstimulation happening.

That’s when you heard it…

“Why is it unlocked?”

“I don’t know”

Then you heard a click, they’re loading their revolver…

Jisung knew that voice extremely well, so the panic arose even faster. He quickly got out of your skirt, his lips glossy from your fluids. “Fuck fuck fuck” he whispered, trying to gather his clothes.

“Guys it’s just me” he yelled, hoping if they were faster than him it would lead to at least them not being shot. That’s when he also tossed one of the dresses he promised you your way, quickly trying to put on his trousers. You act fast as well, doing everything in your power to get the damn dress on and you threw the old dress into a pile of hay in the corner. If you had more time to think perhaps it would be more melodramatic, throwing away the last piece of your old life as if it was nothing. But now? You had no time to think.

You signalled to the halfway dressed man to help you with the zipper in the back. Jisung went right into action, rushing over to you, managing with a trembling hand to get the zipper up right in time for…

“Who’s that?” A voice Said, you remembered him from the picture, that’s Chan, the captain.

“Oh!” Jisung said, clearing his throat, quickly wiping his mouth from whatever excess that was left from you. “This is Miss Y/N. I.. I- uh-“ Jisung said in panic, not sure how to explain to his captain what the fuck he had been doing down here. “I-I was lending her one of our dresses, it’s not like we use them right? I accidentally ruined hers by dropping beer on it” he lies, giving the captain a half sided smile. “But now as you can see she is in the dress so I’ll just go ahead and help her off the ship, thanks” he said and practically pushed you up the ladder to the deck of the ship, leaving the confused captain to wonder what the hell he just witnessed.

“D-Do I really have to go?” You ask slowly, looking at him under the moonlight, a light breeze making his hair blow in the wind… you felt a lump in your stomach again, not like last time, this time you knew… you didn’t wanna leave him.

“W-Well we sail at dawn and perhaps you should find a new place to stay and-“

“Can’t I stay with you?”

“Y/N… I can’t ask that of you? You’ll become a criminal, a whore in the eye of law?” He say, his eyes giving such soft look yet so much pain behind them at the idea of you perhaps leaving for good… you slowly walk up to him, placing one hand on his cheek, making him look at you… he had shown you more humanity, more freedom and lust within these few hours you’d known him than anyone else… you knew you had to stay here…

“I rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife” you whisper, looking into his eyes, seeing how the pain in his eyes flood away and replace with happiness as he grabs your waist, lifts you up and spin you two around, letting out a loud laugh of happiness. You let out a screech and held onto his shoulders tightly as he spun you in case he would drop you, not that he ever would… As he sit you down again he remove his hands form your waits and cups your cheeks like you cupped his a moment ago, placing a couple chaste kisses on your mouth.

“Oh this is” kiss “going to be” kiss kiss “fucking great!” Kiss kiss kiss “I’ll show you the world, I’ll show you what real freedom is”

You couldn’t answer before you heard a voice. You look over at the trapdoor where Chans head stuck out, he held up the dress from the haystack between two fingers.

“Uh, guys? I thought you said it had beer on it, not that you ripped it apart..”

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#fanfic #imagines #writing #stray kids x reader #stray kids #han jisung #han jisung x reader #stray kids smut #Han Jisung smut #pirate au #melioraskz

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pandapetals · 4 months ago

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Late Night

Logan's up late grading papers when you come into his office and sit on his lap.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

The hallway was dimly lit, the soft glow from Logan’s classroom spilling into the corridor. You rubbed your tired eyes, feeling the weight of the day pulling at you, but curiosity and a little concern kept you from heading straight to bed. Logan had been absent from your side for a couple of hours now, and you couldn’t sleep without knowing what was keeping him up so late.

As you approached his classroom, you peeked your head inside, leaning slightly against the doorframe. There he was, sitting at his desk, his rugged face softened by the warm light from the lamp beside him. His eyes were fixed on a piece of paper in his hand, a red pen in the other. He was grading, even though the clock on the wall clearly read 2:19 a.m.

“Can’t sleep?” Logan asked, his voice low and gruff, though he didn’t bother looking up from the essay he was marking.

“No, not when my bed is empty,” you teased, stepping into the room, your arms crossed in mock frustration.

Logan smirked at that, finally setting the paper down and giving you a slow, appreciative look. “C’mere,” he said, beckoning you with a tilt of his head. “You can sit in my lap until I’m done grading.”

You raised an eyebrow, hands on your hips. “I thought you said you didn’t need to do grading tonight. Weren’t you bragging about how far ahead you were in your work? The ever-efficient Professor Howlett?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a playful gleam in his eye. “Yeah, well, turns out some of these essays need a little more attention than I thought.” He gestured to the stack of papers on his desk with the red pen. “And don’t think I didn’t hear you complaining about your pile of unread Shakespeare analyses earlier.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not the one staying up until 2 a.m. playing professor when I’ve got a perfectly good bed waiting for me.”

Logan chuckled, his gaze lingering on you as you crossed the room, drawn to him like you always were. “If you’re offering a better alternative to these papers, I’m all ears, darlin’.”

You stopped beside his desk, leaning against the edge as you glanced down at the messy stack of student work. “Honestly, I think your students should be thanking me for saving them from whatever snarky comments you’re about to leave on their essays.”

He smirked, tapping the paper in front of him with his pen. “This one here wrote that Alexander the Great was defeated by Julius Caesar in 1540. I think a little snark is called for.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, they’re not exactly coming to my English class. I can’t fix everything, Logan.”

He grunted in response, his smirk still firmly in place. “And yet, you try. Saving kids from poor grammar and historical inaccuracies one essay at a time.”

“Well, someone has to,” you quipped, leaning down and resting your hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. “But I still think you’d be more useful in bed.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Is that a fact?”

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting his shoulder. “Yes, it’s a fact. And since you’re the history professor, you should know I don’t take facts lightly.”

He set his pen down, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “I think I can get behind that kind of logic,” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You settled into his lap, your arms sliding around his neck as you looked down at him with an exaggerated sigh. “You know, I had all these big plans for us tonight. A nice, relaxing evening. But no, you had to go and get all studious.”

Logan chuckled, resting his forehead against yours, his hands gently stroking your sides. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said, his voice a little softer now, a promise hidden in the gruffness. “As soon as I’m done here.”

You gave him a mock pout. “I don’t know if I believe you. You say that now, but then you’ll get all caught up in some ancient war and forget I exist.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a smile as he tilted his head, brushing his nose against yours. “If I’m quoting ancient wars in my sleep, you can hit me. But right now?” His hands slid up your back, pulling you a little closer. “I’d rather be paying attention to you.”

Your heart fluttered, the tiredness from earlier forgotten as you melted into his warmth, the papers and grading abandoned for now. “Well,” you whispered, a teasing smile playing on your lips, “as long as I’ve got your attention…”

“You’ve always got my attention,” Logan rumbled, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Even when I’m pretending to be a responsible professor.”

You laughed, tangling your fingers in his hair as you rested your head against his shoulder. “I think I might have to take over your class for you. Can’t have you falling asleep at your desk again.”

Logan huffed in amusement, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back. “Good luck with that. You’ve got enough on your plate without adding my classes to the mix.”

You smiled, closing your eyes and letting the quiet between you settle, comfortable and warm. “Maybe. But I’d still do it if it meant dragging you to bed earlier.”

Logan chuckled, his lips brushing against your hair as he held you close. “You’re lucky I’m already crazy about you, or I might take offense at that.”

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re not loving all this attention, Mr. Howlett,” you teased, your voice growing softer as exhaustion finally started to catch up with you. “Admit it—you like being fussed over.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “I’d rather have you in my lap than any of these damn essays. That’s for sure.”

“Well,” you said, your eyes fluttering shut as you snuggled deeper into his embrace, “then it sounds like we’re on the same page.”

Logan’s hand came to rest on your back, his fingers tracing soothing patterns as he leaned back in his chair. “We’ve always been on the same page, darlin’. Now let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep on me.”

With a quiet laugh, you reluctantly lifted your head, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Only if you promise to follow me.”

Logan’s smirk softened into something more tender as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “I have a better idea,” he murmured, his voice low and rough in that way that always sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could ask what he meant, Logan stood, pulling you up with him in one smooth motion. You barely had time to register the shift before he swept you off your feet—literally. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you let out a surprised laugh as he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Logan!” you squealed, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance. “You know, I can walk perfectly fine on my own.”

Logan’s lips quirked into that familiar smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement as he glanced down at you. “Maybe. But where’s the fun in that?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. There was something about being in his arms, the strength of him so close and the warmth of his body pressed against yours, that made it impossible to resist him.

“I swear, you’re just trying to show off,” you teased, resting your head against his shoulder as he carried you effortlessly down the hallway.

“Maybe I am,” Logan drawled, his voice softening as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “But you’re not complainin’, are you?”

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of his neck. “No. I’m not.”

Logan chuckled, his grip tightening around you just a little as he carried you into your shared bedroom, the door creaking softly as it swung open. He set you down gently on the bed, your back sinking into the soft sheets, but before you could move, he leaned over you, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you in.

“Logan…” you started, but the teasing lilt in your voice was quickly cut off as he dipped his head, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, warm and featherlight.

“You’ve been stressin’ yourself out too much, darlin’,” he muttered, his breath warm against your skin. “Stayin’ up late, workin’ yourself to the bone...”

You sighed, your body already relaxing under his touch, the tension you’d been carrying for days melting away. “You’ve been doing the same,” you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently to get him to look at you. “We’re both guilty.”

Logan paused, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—soft, but determined. “Yeah, but I’m gonna take care of you tonight,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “No more work, no more thinkin’. Just us.”

You smiled, your heart warming at his words. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a soft smile, his hand sliding to cup your cheek again, his thumb brushing over your lips as his eyes searched yours. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice rougher now, filled with concern. “You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged.”

“I’m fine,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. “Especially now.”

Logan’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away—just the two of you, wrapped up in this quiet moment of shared tenderness. He leaned down again, his lips capturing yours in a slow, lingering kiss that sent warmth flooding through your chest.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke—just the steady rise and fall of your breathing, the quiet connection between you enough to fill the space.

“You know,” you whispered, brushing your fingers along the side of his face, “you’re really good at this whole ‘taking care of me’ thing.”

Logan smirked, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Told you, darlin’. I’d do just about anything for you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your heart swelling with affection for this man who, despite his gruffness and rough edges, always knew exactly how to make you feel loved.

“Well,” you said, your voice teasing again, “in that case, I’m going to need you to carry me everywhere from now on. Think you can handle that, Mr. Howlett?”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. “You keep talkin’ like that, and I might just make it a habit.”

You laughed softly, tugging him down beside you on the bed, your legs tangling with his as you snuggled closer. Logan wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him, his hand stroking up and down your back in soothing, rhythmic motions.

As you lay there, wrapped in his warmth, you felt the last bit of stress slip away, replaced by the quiet comfort of being with him, of knowing that no matter how busy or overwhelming life got, you’d always have this—him, you, and the love that made everything else seem so much smaller.

#fluff #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #wolverine #x men wolverine #james logan howlett #x men logan #logan x reader #mcu #marvel #logan xmen #wolverine x reader #reader insert #logan x you #professor logan #professor howlett #x men #days of future past

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infiniteglitterfall · 6 months ago

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I do realize this is a real niche post but I cannot tell you how many damn times over the past 10 months I've seen gentiles tell Jews some version of, "Your own holy book SAYS God doesn't want you to have a country yet!"

And it's such an incredibly blatant and weirdly specific tell that they're not part of something that grew from progressive grassroots, but something based on right-wing astroturfing.

1. Staying in your own lane is a pretty huge progressive principle.

Telling people in another group that their deity said they couldn't do X is, I think, as far as you can get from your own lane.

2. It's also very clearly Not In Your Own Lane because I've never seen anyone actually be able to EITHER quote the passage they're thinking of, OR cite where it is.

It's purely, "I saw somebody else say this, and it seemed like it would make me win the debate I wasn't invited to."

3. It betrays a complete ignorance of Jewish culture and history.

Seriously? You don't know what you're referencing, its context, or even what it specifically says, but you're... coming to a community that reads and often discusses the entire Torah together each year, at weekly services... who have massive books holding generations of debate about it that it takes 7 years to read, at one page per day....

And saying, "YOUR book told you not to!"

I've been to services where we discussed just one word from the reading the whole time. The etymology. The connotations. The use of it in this passage versus in other passages.

And then there is the famous saying, "Ask two Jews, get three opinions." There is a culture of questioning and discussion and debate throughout Judaism.

You think maybe, in the decades and decades of public discussion about whether to buy land in Eretz Yisrael and move back there; whether it should keep being an individual thing, or keep shifting to intentional community projects; what the risks were; whether it should really be in Argentina or Canada or someplace instead; how this would be received by the Jews and gentiles already there, how to respect their boundaries, how to work with them before and during; and whether ending up with a fuckton of Jews in one place might not be exactly as dangerous for them as it had always been everywhere else....

You think NOBODY brought up anything scriptural? Nobody looked through the Torah, the Nevi'im, the Ketuvim, or the Talmud for any thoughts about any of this?? It took 200 years and some rando in the comments to blow everyone's minds???

4. It relies on an unspoken assumption that people can and should take very literal readings of religious texts and use them to control others.

And a sense of ownership and power over those texts, even without any accompanying knowledge about what they say.

It's kind of a supercessionist know-it-all vibe. It reads like, "I know what you should be doing. Because even if I'm not personally part of a fundamentalist branch of a related religion, the culture I'm rooted in is."

Bonus version I found when I was looking for an example. NOBODY should do this:

There are a lot of people who pull weird historical claims like "It SAYS Abraham came from Chaldea! That's Iraq!"

Like, first of all, a group is indigenous to a land if it arose as a people and culture there, before (not because of) colonization.

People aren't spontaneously spawning in groups, like "Boom! A new indigenous people just spawned!!"

People come from places. They go places. Sometimes, they gel as a new community and culture. Sometimes, they bop around for a while and eventually assimilate into another group.

Second: THE TORAH IS NOT A HISTORY TEXTBOOK OMFG.

It's an oral history, largely written centuries after the fact.

There is a TON of historical and archaeological research on when and where the Jewish culture originated, how it developed over time, etc. It's extremely well-established.

Nobody has to try to pull what they remember from Sunday school for this argument.

#jumblr #Jewish history #hamas propaganda and fundie Christian propaganda are a terrible mix #fuck hamas #depressing discourse #wall of words

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artlefty · 1 year ago

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MMMMMMMMM GOOD THINGS ARE BEING SAID.

Martin consistently stutters, consistently allows himself to build up to a point where his frustrations have nowhere to go other than an abrupt spurt of anger that can almost seem out of character to him in the beginning but are, in fact, intrinsically linked to who he is as a person. He sidesteps his own comfort in favour of others' and expresses his feelings in providing for those he cares about. Simple gestures, like a cup of tea. And later (avoiding spoilers) Bigger Gestures.

Martin has convinced himself he does not matter and attempts to make himself small as a result. Be kind, be gentle and offer comfort to those around him in an attempt to convince them to let him stay. Historically he's been an emotional punching bag for others. His mother, then Jon- you can assume later Lukas too (though in a very different manner).

It's not until much later he starts expressing himself in more honest ways (i.e. post Lonely). He admits his faults and asks for things. Allows his anger and frustration to bubble up organically. Isn't as afraid to express these things as now he's confidant he won't be left in the dirt as a result of taking up space. "I am Martin Blackwood and I am not lonely anymore."

English tea is the most inoffensive thing to offer someone as a source of comfort. The smallest and most effective way to provide in a workspace that he has very little idea to what he's doing in thanks to fudging the records to get in in the first place. The mugs may as well have "Please keep me, I'm helping, see?" written on them. So yes. Yes and Thank you.

#my legacy is just going to be talking about tea in the tma fandom #i think it's the fact that it being simple black tea is IMPORTANT and people from other countries don't understand that messing --#--with that simplicity changes the whole tone and point to what he's doing #icannotescape #tma #the magnus archives #martin blackwood

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

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All In 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: told myself to slow down, didn't.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s your first time wearing that skirt. You’ve had it in your closet for two years. At least. You’re not really a skirt person but it’s cute. The floral on black with the zipper up the front. It drapes nicely enough though you’re not used to wearing anything so short. You have a trusty pair of shorts on just in case.

You don’t go out either. Definitely not to places like this. You keep an arm across your middle, gripping your other as the hordes of people make you dizzy. The shining gold accoutrement of the decor along with the waft of low music over the noise of tables and voices add to your vertigo.

The casino is busy and bright and loud. You stay close to your sister as she leads you across the carpet; ivory with golden curliques patterned across them. You’re no gambler either but you’re not there to play cards.

“I think it’s upstairs,” Roxie says as she looks at the tickets in her hand. “Gala Room B.”

“Oh, right,” you murmur and smile at her, “what’s the band again?”

“Don’t worry about it the tickets were free,” she chirps as you look up at her. You feel even more a child beside her; your height often adds to your inferiority complex. Historically, you think, those characteristics have been often intertwined.

“No, but--”

“You need to get out of mom’s place more,” she chides, “I could’ve brought Katie instead, but I chose you, sis.”

“I know, er, thanks,” you run your hand up to your shoulder and rub it nervously.

“Show doesn’t start for another hour. Let’s get a drink,” she insists and turns, strutting towards the long bar at the other side of the grand space. You trail after her, shrinking down even further. She turns back to you as she leans on a tall stool, “what d’ya want?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really...”

“I know, it’s one drink, how about a vodka-cran?” She suggests, “you love cranberry.”

“Um, sure, if you think that’s good.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. She’s the wild one, not you. You know you bore her and since your parents’ divorce, years ago, you haven’t really hung out together. She went with your dad and you with your mom, since then, it’s all been a bit fuzzy.

She orders as you stand back, not wanting to get in the way of the people all around you. You lean back, rocking nervously as you glance around. You feel underdressed as you see women in cocktail dresses and men in suits. Even your sister is a stark contrast to your overly casual attire; your favourite purple cardigan and the skirt you’ve never worn.

Your eyes scan the room, admiring the golden sconces of bulbs that resemble candelabras and the gilt trim all along the wall. The more you look around, the less you belong. You don’t even know why you said yes. Well, your mom pushed you into it. Just like your sister, she keeps saying you need to get out more.

You rub your lips together and feel around your small tassled purse. It’s used, like most of your things. The thrift store is as much as your mom can afford and you still haven’t found a solid job. You worked at the grocery for a summer before they laid off half of you then did a one-day stint at a polling centre for the last municipal election. Even if you wanted to go out, you don’t have the money for it.

You pull out your chapstick and smear it around your chafed lips as you sway back the other direction. You stop short as you nearly slam into another body and you stumble out of the way of the man in his black-and-white suit. Embarrassment creeps hotly up your cheeks and you cap your lip balm and stand out of his path.

He’s taller than you. Well, everyone is. But to you, he seems huge. His suit is finely tailored to his figure though his hair seems to clash with the refined style. It’s almost to his collar but neatly parted, a shank falling forward to frame his sharp cheekbone. His square jaw is trimmed thickly with a dark beard, peppered with strands of silver and patch along the dimple of his chin. You’ve never seen anything as blue as his eyes, they are almost inhumanly vivid.

“Sorry, doll,” he touches your arm as he passes and smirks, swiftly turning his sights ahead of him.

You gulp as your shoulder hits someone else. You spin to face your sister as she offers you a glass. You take the red concoction with the short black straw sticking out over the ice cubes. You thank her as the chill seeps into your hand.

“Oof, look at him,” she leans to watch after the man in his dark suit, “damn.” You frown and look in the other direction. She scoffs and nudges you, “come on. That guy is totally stunning. Even you can see that.”

“I don’t wanna gawk at him,” you mutter, “he’s a stranger.”

“Oh, whatever, not like he’d notice,” she snips.

You scrunch up your lip and tuck your chapstick away as you peer toward the man. He goes up to a table, sliding in next to a taller woman with honey-blond hair and a shimmery dress. He rests his hand along her lower back as he chatters to her and the rest of the players around the leather trim.

“Sheesh, he’s fine,” she puts a twang on the last word, “mmph. If I wasn’t with Tom...”

“Right,” you look down at the drink and sip from the straw. You make a face and cough.

“It’s not that strong,” she slaps your back, “don’t be dramatic.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, “I just wasn’t expecting the taste.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” she points above.

“Uh, okay,” you agree to her sudden diversion. You suppose you really are boring.

You follow her up the curved stairs and along the railing that overlooks the lower casino room. Arched windows let in the night and the glow of the facade. You lean on the polished wood and peer down at the first floor; it looks even more resplendent from there. You sister puts her elbow on the railing as she looks around.

“We could stick around after, lose some money,” she says.

“I don’t... mom only gave me a twenty and I owe you for the drink.”

“Pfft, whatever, I’ll spot ya. Tom gave me some extra with the tickets,” she trills, “it’ll be fun. Play some black jack. It’ll be an experience. You could say you’ve actually done something.”

You smile, closed-lipped and tight. She isn’t wrong. It’s your first concert, for some cover band, and your first time at a casino. It’s not an exaggeration to say this is the height of your life experience.

Your eyes wander down and meet another pair. You wince. It’s that same man. He walks towards you, a certain swagger in his stride. As he peers up at you, his cheeks dimple and he winks. You wrinkle your brow and look behind you. When you turn back, he’s gone. Right, you’re imagining things.

Roxie slurps as her straw turns hollow. She’s already drained her cocktail, meanwhile you’ve barely taken a sip. She stirs the ice and hums.

“Wait here, I’m gonna get a refill,” she raises her glass.

“Oh, I can come with you--”

“Nah, just stand here,” she insists. “You’ll just slow me down.”

“Sure, uh, okay.”

You curl your shoulders inward as she walks away. Great. All alone. You avoid looking anywhere but your glass. You face the railing again and balance your drink on it. It’s not bad, tarter than you’re used to and a little burny.

You play with the black bracelet around your wrist, the band they stuck around it when they scanned your ID at the door. You suppose it’s a good idea but they wouldn’t be letting kids in here, would they? Oh yeah, the hotel is attached.

As a kid, you never went on vacations like that. No hotels, no casinos, no shows. It seems like Roxie is catching up on all of that and you’re just there. The world is so much scarier when it’s all a mystery to you.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking it’s merely a passerby, “miss?”

There’s a tap on your shoulder and you barely save your cocktail from spilling over the edge. You clutch the glass with both hands and face the stranger. It’s that same man, with the suit and the long hair and the oceanic eyes. Something about him is familiar beyond your few earlier glances.

“I think you dropped this?” He holds up a chip with a golden 100 on it. You blink and shake your head.

“No,” you scrape out of your throat, “I don’t-- I didn’t--”

“I swear I saw it fall out of your bag,” he looks down at your purse.

“Really, I’m not... I don’t gamble.”

“Ah, well, if it’s just hanging around, might as well use it, huh?” He keeps his hand out, “maybe it’s your lucky day.”

“I couldn’t. If someone lost it...” your voice doesn’t want to go and he leans in to hear you, adding to the heat spreading through your chest. Is it the alcohol or him?

“You’re sweet, keep it,” he shoves the chip toward you.

“Please, I... I... can’t...” you wipe a hand on your skirt and clutch the fabric.

“Doll, I can’t hear you,” he says as he grabs your hand and dislodges it from your skirt, “here.”

He presses the chip into your palm. You stare at his tie then look down at the white chip with gold detailing. His hand brushes yours before he rescinds his touch.

“Erm...” you murmur dumbly and shake your head.

“My treat,” he growls.

“But...”

“Like the skirt, by the way,” he surprises you as he pinches a fold, “cute on you.”

Just as quickly as he appeared, he strides away, leaving you blankly staring after him. His broad shoulders move beyond a thick marble pillar as you hold up your drink and the chip. You just look between them.

“Hey,” Roxie approaches again, “oh, what’s that?”

“A chip...” you state plainly.

“Duh, I know. Where’d you get it?”

You look at the floor. Would she even believe you? “The floor.”

“Ooo,” she plucks it from your fingers, “awesome, “now we’re definitely having some fun tonight.”

“Rox,” you swallow and look up at her, “we should hand it in. It’s a lot of money. If someone lost it--”

“If they lost it, they can afford it,” she bobs her neck as she speaks, “live a little,” she sneers and taps your glass, “and finish your drink. Maybe that’ll loosen you up.”

You nod and recede into yourself, cradling the glass again with both hands. You put your lips to the straw and drink until you can’t anymore. She gulps straight from the brim of her glass and sighs, wiggling as she peers around.

“I almost don’t even want to see these old men play music,” she snickers as she takes in the expanse of tables flashing lights.

“Oh?”

“Relax, we’re going to see the show. You’re a horrible liar and mom will see right through you,” she sneers, “besides, I told her I wouldn’t get you in too much trouble.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #all in #series #au #casino au #winter soldier #captain america #avengers #mcu #marvel

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authorhjk1 · 10 months ago

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Dea Romana

(Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader)

(Author's note:

Hi everyone! Thank you for patiently waiting for me! I'm done with writing my exams now, so I will be able to write more again until Juli. Since I like history a lot, the beginning got a bit longer than originally planned, but I hope you will be able to enjoy it nonetheless. I tried to make everything as historically accurate as possible, but please don't expect everything to be true.

Stay healthy! I will do my best to upload the next piece as soon as possible!)

Every muscle feels like it's burning. Your legs and arms feel heavy. Your feet barely lift off the uneven ground with every step you take.

Dried blood stains your face. Your armour doesn't look much better. The shield you are holding, has a big dent in it. The javelin in your right hand feels like it's made out of steel. The chainmail on your chest weighs heavier than usual.

"Marius!"

Your second in command shouts at you from the back.

"The women need a break!"

You sigh in annoyance. It's bad enough that you almost got your whole century killed. Now you have to delay your reunion with the rest of the legion because of those Gaul captives.

"We will take a short break."

You announce to your eighty legionaries and the twenty rebels you captured.

Spotting a small stream near by, you walk closer, while most of the soldiers sit on the ground, some are standing guard.

Taking off your helmet, you start to wash your face. The dried blood sticks to your skin. After some effort, you are just a little bit cleaner.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you kneel in place. In front of the small stream, your century in the back, looking into the deep forest.

You have lived a hard life. You were not born a Roman. Not born a free man. But you took your life into your own hands, instead of hoping for the mercy of the gods. Because gods don't have mercy. Only you can change your own destiny.

"Let's keep marching. We are almost there."

You go back to the front of the century, your men following your orders. Most of the Gaul rebels you captured are women and children. Their husbands and fathers killed by your swords and javelins.

Orders are orders. To kill or to be killed. These are the only two principles you live by. At least most of the time.

"Have you heard yet?"

Quintus asks from behind you, catching your attention. You silently wave for him to walk next to you. It's not necessarily the gossip you're interested in, but you did learn that it's important to know what is going on inside your century and the legion itself.

"Aelius fucked up some of his soldiers."

You raise your eyebrow while you keep walking. Nothing new there. Aelius is a spoiled son of a whore. He only became centurion in the tenth, because of his family's status. And he is usually unnecessarily brutal with his century.

"Reason?"

"They ate some of the extra rations we all got a week ago. Aelius said that they are meant for centurions only. Not for legionaries."

You have to stop yourself from spitting onto the muddy path you are walking on.

Aelius paints the perfect picture of the Roman nobility. Rich assholes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"Did he kill someone again?"

Quintus shakes his head.

"But I heard that the premus pilus had a talk with him."

You let out a dry chuckle.

"All the centurions of the first cohort are the same. Do you really think he got in trouble?"

"No. But I thought you would be interested. It's not like you have very good connections with-"

"Shut it, fool."

It's not really a secret in the tenth legion that you and Aelius are bitter rivals. The two of you are the completely opposite of one another. A rich brat, who is the centurion of the third century in the first cohort. And you. The former slave, who climbed the ranks to be the centurion of the first century in the second cohort.

There aren't many ranks that separate the two of you. But making the jump into the first cohort as a former slave is nearly impossible.

Your century walks in almost complete silence for the next couple of hours. Despite being one of the most feared soldiers in the legion, you can't help but be cautious. In case there are more rebels lurking in the shadows of the large trees.

"Marius!"

The scout you send out to check the path ahead is jogging in your direction.

"We take another short break."

A light murmur of gratitude echoes through the ranks.

You wait for the young man, barely older than a boy, to reach the spot where you are standing.

"Someone seems to be traveling towards the camp. Our paths are going to cross, once we reach the small clearing ahead."

"Do you know who it is?"

"It looked like a person from the nobility. There was a carriage. And a couple of men with spears. Probably guards."

"We can't be too cautious. Titus!"

You shout for your second in command to walk to the front.

"Take your contubernia and make fast pace. I want to make sure that everything is going according to regulations."

"Yes, Marius."

The rest of the century starts marching at normal pace again, while the eight men rush ahead. The scout leading them towards the small crossroads.

"You know what's going on?"

You shake your head at Quintus' question.

"Might be a politician from Rome. Or a nobleman's wife."

"You know that that's against the law."

Of course everyone knows. It's illegal for a legionary to be married. And yet, some centurions always think that they are above the rest of the legion, when it comes to this kind of rules.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

An angry shout echoes around the forest, just as you and your men reach the small clearing.

The scout was right. A carriage, pulled by two grays, accompanied by a handful of men, armed with spears, and some servants.

An older woman is standing in front of the carriage's door, screaming at the poor Titus. Glancing over his shoulder, your optio rolls his eyes.

"Woman. Don't scream at a Roman legionary."

You make your presence known as you keep walking towards the middle of the clearing.

The servant, probably around forty to fifty years of age, looks at you with anger in her eyes.

"Do you even know, whom you are holding up?!"

"No."

You state bluntly, finally standing in front of her. Behind you, you can hear your men take their positions. Not to threaten the travelers, but to guard the area.

"Well, she is one of the most prestigious women in all of Rome."

"And what is a woman like her doing so far away from the city?"

"Visiting her husband."

You click your tongue. As far as you know, none of the centurions in the first cohort have wives. Which means, she must be the woman of a centurion, who ranks lower than you.

A smirk, which you can't suppress, plays around your lips. How are you able to enjoy a higher position than a noble in this republic?

You walk off without another word, leaving Titus in charge. There is no need to bother with this stuff. Some of the Gaul rebels fell a little behind earlier. You have to check on them. In case they are sick or badly injured.

"Her name?"

You hear Titus ask, before the woman let's out an exaggerated gasp.

"Sana Lucii."

You groan in annoyance. By Jupiter. Is this really his wife? Lucius Aelius? Just when you thought, you couldn't hate that man even more.

You despise men, who don't follow the law and rules of the republic and the legion. Of course, sometimes you can define them a little different for your own gains, but this is just breaking them.

Trying to stay calm, your fingers tap the pommel of your gladius. You don't hear a response from Titus. He must know which Lucius the old woman ment.

"Marius?"

He finally makes you turn around.

You walk back up towards the carriage, just as the door opens.

"By Bellona! What is taking so long!"

You have to say, you are amused by the woman's expression. You didn't expect her to call out for the goddess of war.

"Just doing our duty, lady."

Titus answers politely, although you know how hard it is for him to not lash out. He hates Aelius just as much as the next soldier. Especially, since he is your optio.

You are stunned, once the woman actually shows herself. Her beautiful face is slightly twisted with annoyance. Although, you would be sure that she could look like Venus herself, when she smiles.

She is wearing a turquoise stola, which also covers her brown hair. The thin material enables you to have a look at her white tunic underneath. Her skin looks flawless and pure. A golden necklace adorns her neck and collarbone. It's probably worth more than a whole year of your salary.

An image of a goddess.

"I hope we can speed up this process. I'm supposed to be by my husband's side."

Lucky bastard.

"Please. Speak respectfully with my legionaries."

Her gaze meets yours. You can feel your heart skipping a beat. Not one woman has looked as pretty as she does. Not one.

"Who are you to lecture me on speaking?"

"Salve."

Your fist meats the blood stained chainmail on your chest.

Maybe, if you behave respectfully, so does she. The army is for her protection after all.

"My name is Marius. And-"

"What's your first name, centurion?"

A cute smile suddenly plays around her lips. Maybe this will get her out of here faster.

"Gaius."

"I see, Gaius. I'm sure you have more important things to do than stop me from traveling further? My husband must be waiting for me."

If she didn't know better, Sana could swear that she caught a glint of hate in your eyes.

"This is protocol. We have to check on everyone, who approaches the camp."

"I'm a noble woman. Can't you make an exception for me?'

You don't fall for her sweet smile. You are on duty. Not even Venus herself could distract you. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Your choice. Here, or at the gate in front of even more legionaries. Like everyone else."

That last part makes her glare at you. You won this round.

Not waiting for a response, you gesture for your men to search the woman's belongings. Your Imperial legate has more than enough enemies in Rome to be cautious of. And you don't want him to end up dead inside his own camp. Even if she is allegedly Aelius' wife.

Quintus nods in your direction after going through her belongings, signaling that everything is alright.

"We will accompany you on your way to the camp. We are on our way back, anyway."

You turn around without looking at Sana again. A signal for your men to get into formation.

It feels like she stares at your back for a second longer, before you hear the door close behind you. You don't like the Roman nobility. At all. There is only one man you are willing to follow.

After two more hours of marching, your century and the noblewoman's entourage finally reach the camp's gate.

"The village, where the senior officers are staying, is right behind the camp. You can't miss it."

The older woman, who screamed at Titus earlier, still looks at you as if she is holding a grudge.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in these wonderful lands, lady."

You raise your voice a little, making sure that Sana can hear you. It drips with sarcasm and you can hear Quintus chuckle behind you.

"Vale."

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you walk past the old servant. Her shock at your rudeness visible on her face.

Already making your way past the guards, you can't hear Sana's scoff.

Who are you to talk to her like that? If she is gonna tell her husband about this, you are going to be in trouble for sure.

Sana will never be able to get used to this. She was able to decide that, immediately after she stepped out of her carriage. It took her only a couple of steps to enter the small house her husband is living in right now. But that was enough for her already.

Nothing here looks like Rome. Even the legionaries look out of place. And their shouts and the sounds of shields and stuff isn't what she hears when she is home. Sana is already missing the comfortable house with the atrium. She likes to bathe in the sun throughout the day, while sipping on a really good wine.

"You're late."

Lucius doesn't even look up from his small table as he hears his wife coming in.

"That's how you great me after a year?"

"You know how I value punctuality."

"Out of my hands. Some centurion insisted on searching my luggage. He was really rude."

Now Lucius is looking at her. Sana knows that he can't stand someone disrespecting him. And when she gets disrespected, it goes deeper. He is affected as well.

"Who?"

She can see his eyes becoming a little darker. He bites his lip, maybe trying to prevent himself from shouting.

"His name is Garius Marius. I think?"

"That son of a whore. How does a slave dare to stop you?"

Now, Sana feels shame run down her spine. If she knew that he was born a slave, she would've hit him for talking to her like that. No matter his rank, he is and will always be beneath her. Once a slave, always a slave.

"I swear to Jupiter. One day in battle, I will..."

Lucius takes a deep breath, before focusing back on his wife.

"We are eating dinner with the Imperial legate, the leader of these legions tomorrow, and the senior generals. I expect you to impress them."

"I'd be happy to, love."

Sana almost spits out that last word, but Lucius doesn't seem to notice. He sits back down, opening an envelope. She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed. He won't let this incident pass without consequences.

Sana eventually leaves the house to explore the small town and it's market. Despite being married to Lucius, she can't stay around him for too long. She is only his wife, because of his money and connections. As soon as she can find someone better...

Sana feels a little dizzy as she steps out of the big house. Lucius told her to be on her best behavior. But that idiot was behaving the worst throughout the dinner.

She hated how calm and reserved the other centurion was, the man who stopped her. He was the lowest ranking soldier and yet, everyone listened to his advice and thoughts about future and past battles. And how is he on a first name basis with the imperial legate? And why is Lucius too incapable to enjoy the same treatment? How can he do worse than a slave?

Sana holds onto the wall, standing right next to the entrance. Suddenly, two men walk out the door. They don't see her because it's dark. She tries to find out who they are. The first one is a little taller, while the second has broader shoulders and looks more muscular.

"We can't do this forever, Gaius. We need a plan to wipe him out. I expect you to help me with that."

"Of course, Gaius."

Sana almost groans in annoyance. Of course it's that Gaius Marius. And the other one is the Imperial legate. Gaius Julius Caesar.

"Rome is an empire. We will defeat Vercingetorix sooner rather than later. His supporters will crumble soon."

"You did a good job today, centurion. You've proven once again, why you rightfully carry the name I gave you. Gaius Marius Antonius."

Sana assumes they are talking about some barbarian leader. But Caesar gave him that cognomen? She can't help but wonder what he must've done to be called "priceless".

"You know the political situation in Rome. The more time I waste conquering Gaul, the more powerful my enemies become."

"I swear to Mars. I will cut down anyone who tries to oppose you, Gaius."

She sees Caesar put a hand on the centurion's shoulder.

"It's only a matter of time, until you will be one of the Tribuni angusticlavii, leading the tenth legion into battle. And I will make sure, you will eventually become a rich senator."

Sana has heard enough. It's so disgusting to her. A slave becoming a senator. She is working so hard to become the most powerful woman in Rome. And with that in the whole empire. How can that lowlife become something better than she herself? Sana either needs to push Lucius further up the ranks, or she needs to find someone, who can match Marius' new found status.

Sana groans in relief, when she can finally leave the small village. It's not like someone forbid her to leave, but there just wasn't something to do in and outside the village. What was she gonna do in a forest? A very dangerous one at that?

But now, she heard of a big market place around two hours away. Sana is still looking to buy some oils and pottery. She could do that in Rome of course, but she is hoping to find them cheaper in their land of origin.

Looking out of her carriage, Sana leaves behind the village and the big camp right next to it. The constant noise made her head spin. Not that Rome isn't loud, but this is something else.

After about an hour, Sana hears a troop of men marching in front of her. She became familiar with that sound after a few days. She doesn't look outside, despite being curious. Why would a century be here? The battles would take place in the opposite direction. Right?

Sana hears how the carriage passes the back of the century. The heavy steps of the legionaries kick up some dust. Her old servant looks outside, curious herself.

"It's him again."

The older woman grimaces, before letting the curtain drop back into place.

"Who?"

"The man who stopped us a couple of days ago."

Sana's attention is now on the men outside. She remembers the conversation you had with Caesar.

"Really?"

She pretends to be cold, not wanting to get caught. After having seen you around a couple of times, the young noble woman is unsure on how to feel about you.

Yes, you are a former slave. A peasant. But you are also a great centurion. A trusted man to Julius Caesar.

Despite being not the highest ranking officer, Sana did notice how the other men look at you. She catches an occasional whisper of your brave actions in battle. She sees the men greet you with almost too much respect. Even the other centurions seem to want to be on your good side.

Maybe that's what Sana has to do too. In order to further climb up the ladder. It is risky. And it's still a long time in the future. But if Caesar can really make his ambitions reality, you will be one of the first people who benefit from it. And if Sana plays her cards well, she can benefit too.

For a moment, she wonders what a man like you would need. Something she could have to bargain with. Money? You probably earn quite a lot already. Especially compared to your earlier environment. Land? You will get that too, if you stay long enough in the army. A wife? You are a soldier. You are not allowed to be married.

As Sana is still pondering on what to do to convince you to help her gain more power, she gets closer towards the front of the century.

And it's not like she doesn't have influence. She could maybe even get you a promotion into the first cohort. Of course without her husband finding out.

Sana draws back the curtain a little with only one finger. Just a few meters ahead, she can see you walking.

Your helmet is decorated by a big crest of red horse hair. The back of the helmet and the rest of your armor shimmer in the light of the sun. She remembers your first encounter. Your armor was full with blood, indicating that you were more than able to fight a battle.

You turn around as you hear horses behind you. It wouldn't have been a surprise. One of the auxilia officers could be taking his men out to train.

Surprised at the sight of the carriage, you catch a glimpse of the passenger. Her eyes meet yours, a big golden ring decorates the finger that holds back the curtain. You could swear you see a small hint of a smile play around her lips.

"Salve."

You great her by hitting your armored chest with your fist. Not because you like her, but out of politeness.

"Salve, centurion."

Her passive aggressive mentioning of your rank indicates that she is still not over that incident a couple of days ago.

"Are you visiting the market?"

"I am. I suppose you are not here to buy pottery?"

A mocking smile replaces the earlier one.

"It may sound unbelievable, but I'm not."

A cute chuckle escapes her mouth.

"Well, I hope you enjoy this beautiful day."

Is she still mocking you, because you are on duty? You are not sure, but you can see her lazily wave goodbye as the carriage drives past you.

"Don't get too close to her. She is only gonna be trouble."

You look at Quintus.

"I'm merely being polite. I don't need trouble with angry nobles. At least not now."

"By Jupiter. One might think you've become a responsible, grown man now."

"Fuck off."

You raise your hand, but Quintus ducks away, avoiding a potential slap.

Only listening with one ear to the conversation next to you, you scan the market for the young noble woman. Despite her attitude and the fact that she is married, you can't help but glance at her occasionally. Plus, the market isn't as safe as it might seem. Cunning merchants, thiefs and rebels might roam the place, ready to strike at any moment. And being a beautiful Roman woman makes her one of the most desirable targets right now.

"Listen, Roman! I barely sell anything! How do you expect me to pay your unreasonable taxes?!"

"Shut it."

You turn back to the stall holder. Titus' and his conversation got heated.

"We are not hear to argue. We are here to collect taxes."

The man grits his teeth.

"I'm telling you! I don't have anything to give away!"

The other people around you look at the scene, before walking past. Only you and a couple of legionaries are here. The rest of your century is patrolling another village nearby and the rest of the market, making sure you are not getting ambushed.

"Don't scream at me, old man. Pay up."

"I don't have a fucking coin!"

You know he is lying. You saw someone buy his fabric from a far as you entered the marketplace. And, judging by the money bag he held earlier, it wasn't cheap at all.

"We can do this the easy way, or the heard way."

You take a step forward, towering above him.

"But the hard way won't end well for you."

"I already told you, I-"

You let your head fall back in annoyance. Collecting taxes is a necessity. Not something to be proud of. It's not as honorable as fighting in battle.

"Do you really want to go this far?"

You look down at him again, your hand now resting on the pommel of your gladius.

He caught the movement of your hand, worry creeping onto his features.

"What is it gonna be? Your life? Or coin?"

The old man is not stupid. And a couple of moments later, you walk away from his stall. The tinkle behind you indicates, that Titus is adding the silver denarii into the bag with the rest of the already collected money.

"Are you trying to rob me, old man? You are a con artist!"

Women screaming at a merchant are as common as clouds under the sky, so you don't pay much attention to it as you hear someone scream.

"How can you demand so much for this lousy work?"

You keep walking, although you kinda feel, like you heard this voice before. It sounds oddly familiar.

"By Bellona! I'm going to have you beaten for your rudeness!"

And there it is. With an annoyed groan, you immediately recognize, who is disturbing the rather peaceful market.

If she was a common local woman, you would've kept walking. The Galli could solve their own disputes.

But Sana is, as unfortunate as it is, not a local. She is a Roman woman. A member of the elite even.

You take a deep breath, before walking towards her screams. You can already guess whom she is screaming at.

"Keep going."

You tell Titus over your shoulder, as you approach her from behind. Her servant must have stayed with the carriage, because Sana is standing in front of the stall of the potter all alone.

Before the young woman can scream another word, you grab her arm.

"What-"

You spin her around and walk away, pulling her with you.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

"Silence."

You didn't say it in a loud voice, but your tone makes her go silent.

After a couple of meters, you stop, turning around to look at her.

"You're welcome."

"Excuse you?"

Her hands now rest on her hips. You can't help but catch how slender her waist seems to be.

"I just saved you from embarrassing yourself even further. You owe me."

You turn away, ready to reunite with Titus and your men.

"What the-"

It's now Sana's turn to grab your arm, stopping you from leaving.

"I don't owe you shit."

"Really?"

You turn to look at her again.

"Your temper is as bad as your observation skills. Minerva would strike you down for your utter incompetence."

You said the words, before you thought about them. You are aggravated. Because of the merchant earlier, because of her causing a scene, because of Lucius (as always) and because of her being his wife. Alright, maybe that last one was a little jealousy.

"How dare you? You are some rude-"

You stop her from saying another word by grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around.

"Look. Look and tell me what you see."

"What are you talking about?"

You see her frowning. An act that makes her beautiful face a little less flawless.

"Tell me what's going on."

You realize you are using the same tone as with the men during training. Harsh, straight forward, a little condescending. But not rude. Just factual.

"The merchant is still selling his stupidly expensive pottery."

You don't answer, waiting for more.

Sana, visibly annoyed, struggles against your grip for a moment, before giving in. You are a seasoned legionnaire. There is no way she is gonna get out of your hold on her.

"There are a couple of women and men who browse his items."

"Keep going."

"Someone is buying a bowl and an amphora."

"What is the woman on the right doing?"

"She is paying for her stuff. What-"

"Can you see how much she is paying?"

"Way too much for a stupid-"

"Do you see any of the locals complaining?"

Sana hesitantly shakes her head.

"Do you know the reason?"

"Because they are stupid. In Rome it's cheap-"

"We aren't in Rome, woman. This is Gaul."

You stand behind her, both of you silent for a couple of moments. You give her time to think about the possible reason. Although she is probably just complaining about you to the gods in silence.

"They all pay the price he demands, because he and his work are respected here."

"But they look-"

"Yeah. Some of his pieces aren't pretty."

You admit that.

"But he is an old man. His hands aren't as good as they used to be. He is obviously regarded with a decent amount of respect."

You gesture for Sana to look around the market.

"Most of the people here bargain over every single item. Food, cloth, tools and even pottery."

You turn her back towards the old man's stall.

"But not there. They respect him too much to try to get a better price. His work might not be the very best anymore, but his skill is known by everyone here."

Sana groans in annoyance and anger as she sees you coming out of the biggest tent of the camp. A week has gone by, since you treated her like a child at the market. Her blood still boils, whenever she sees you from a far.

She decided against telling her husband, not wanting to cause unnecessary friction. And if you have the favor of Caesar, it might be a bad idea to egg on her husband.

And Sana is still debating on your ability to help her seize more power. She is ready to do anything to get to the top. Even if it means working together with someone as low born as you.

Sana stops in her tracks as she sees her husband walk towards you.

"Aelius."

You don't greet him like any other lower ranking centurion would. The young woman can feel the tension between the two men, despite standing barely in earshot.

"Marius."

His face shows a disapproving twitch.

"It seems like we are catching up to Vercingetorix. I hope you don't make any mistakes in battle. I would hate to lose a lower ranking officer."

You click your tongue, taking a step forward.

With the two of you standing right in front of each other, Sana realizes that you are bigger than her husband. Not just in statue, but also in the way you carry yourself. With slightly less arrogance and more discipline.

"Don't worry about me, Aelius. As you know, I always make sure my men are taken care off."

Sana feels a shiver run down her spine. She heard more than enough stories about the battles of the tenth legion since she joined her husband. The amount of times that you were mentioned in one of them was noticeably high.

The young woman heard of a battle two summers ago. You weren't a centurion at the time. Merely a soldier of the second cohort. But in battle, your centurion chose to let his men die, while he stayed behind, watching his century getting slaughtered. After half of the eighty men were dead, you walked straight towards the cowardly centurion. A nobleman, which the storyteller didn't fail to mention with a hint of disgust. Your gladius seperated his head from his shoulders in one swift motion and you took command of the second century until the end of the battle. Caesar honored your bravery and agreed with your actions. Instead of getting executed, you got promoted.

"Are you implying I'm not leading my men well?"

Sana hears you chuckle.

"News travel fast among the younger men, Aelius."

"Maybe you should discipline your soldiers like I do. Your century is a disgrace to the tenth legion."

"Nugas garris. You are pathetic."

You walk off, leaving him behind.

Sana almost expects her husband to draw his gladius. How can you call him a disgrace? And idiot? He is higher ranking than you and he is a member of the elite.

But Aelius just watches you leave, before entering the tent you just came out of.

That short interaction reminds Sana of the power you actually hold. You might not be the highest officer, but almost the whole legion treats you as such. If it wasn't for your low birth, you might have been able to be the centurion of the first century of the first cohort.

Sana's decision is slowly forming in her mind. A plan to gain more power than she has right now. Siding with you might be risky. But the rewards could be great.

Sana glances at you from across the room as you stare at Caesar, who is currently talking. She is still not quite sure what she can offer you to make you join her side. But when the leader of the legion mentions the nobility in his speech, she sees your expression change for just a second. It is obvious that you hate all the wealthy and arrogant men and women. Maybe Sana can offer you something to get back at them. Or at least get back at Aelius.

"And that's why the tenth legion outshines any other. Your bravery and honor are praised throughout the whole empire. Rome is grateful for what you have done. And the gods smile down at the men, who give their lifes to the republic."

Caesar ends his speech. And with that, the long meal is finally over. It is night time already. Only the moon and the stars still shine.

You walk out of the large tent, ready to sleep. It has been a long day and there is no doubt that you will be fighting soon. Caesar's promise to promote you to such a high position still rings in your ears. You can't believe you've come this far.

"Gaius."

Her sweet voice makes you stop in front of your tent. She doesn't sound as angry as she usually does.

"Yes?"

You turn around, standing face to face with Sana.

"I'm here to ask you for something."

You look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"I heard that you are the bravest and most powerful man in this legion. At least unofficially."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Where is all of this honey suddenly coming from?"

Sana gives you a melodic chuckle. Only now do you realize how close she is standing. Her oils make you breath in the flowery air that surrounds her.

"I want to strike a deal with you."

"What would you want from such a low ranking officer like me?"

Your sarcasm makes it hard for Sana to not lash out. Just because she needs you, doesn't mean that she likes you.

"As far as I've heard, you won't be a low ranking officer for long."

"Is that so?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

"Well, it's actually quite simple. You have something I want. And I have something you want."

"I highly doubt that."

You watch Sana turn her head left and right, making sure that no one is around.

"There is a always something a man wants from a woman."

You are surprised at what she is suggesting.

"Judging by the look on your face, I can comfortably say that I'm right."

You shake your head, which seems harder than usual.

"Have you never thought about having your way with me? A noble woman?"

She takes another step closer. Now, Sana's sandals are touching yours.

"A married one at that? I bet you would love to destroy my husband. This could be your first step to success."

You narrow your eyes, still unsure of what to do. You've never been in this kind of situation. Is she making fun of you? Did Aelius put her up to this, setting a trap for you? Or is she genuine?

"What would you get in return?"

"Your power. Your influence. I can't live, knowing that another person might have more power than I do. I need to be at the top of the republic."

"And you think, I can get you there?"

Sana nods.

"With my support? Definitely."

She looks at you, waiting for a response.

You are still torn. She has a nice body, yes. But you're not fond of her attitude. She is a noble woman. And she is married. Getting caught would have serious consequences. For the both of you.

But the chance to use her? A noble woman? Fucking her, while her husband is only sleeping a couple of tents away? More than just tempting.

You look around the camp yourself. No one in sight.

"Get in."

A victorious smile forms on her lips. As she walks past you, she lets her finger glide over your armoured chest.

You follow her immediately after.

"Now that we have come to an agreement, I-"

You push Sana forward, bending her over the wooden table.

"What-"

You don't give her time to speak. If you're going to do this, you're going to do this quickly.

Hiking up her red stola, you reach underneath her tunic. The smoothness of her legs makes you hard as you reach between them.

"It seems like you are enjoying this more than I expected."

Your fingers graze her lower lips. She is not just a little wet.

"Hey, I didn't give you permission to-"

You shut Sana up by covering her mouth with your other hand.

"I don't need you permission. I'm going to ruin you anyway."

Her gasp is muffled by your hand as you push your first finger inside.

You haven't slept with a lot of women, the army being mainly responsible for that. Nonetheless, you do know how to pleasure a woman.

Sana's moan escapes between your fingers as your digits slide along her wet walls. Her pussy is already gripping them tightly.

If it weren't for your hand, her head would've sunk onto the table already. But you are holding her in place, which ultimately makes her arch her back.

She tries to say something, but your grip on her mouth makes it impossible for her to speak properly.

You are surprised at how wet Sana is.

"Was your desire for power just an excuse? Do you just want me to fuck you?"

She tries to shake her head. You don't let her.

"Do you get off, knowing that a lower born man is fucking you?"

Sana is unable to respond, when you let go off her face. Her whole upper body is now lying on top of the table. You drop your belt and hike her clothes up a little further.

"Don't get confused. I still don't like you."

Sana's growl doesn't sound very convincing with your fingers inside of her.

"Might be true. But you aren't married to Aelius because of his personality anyways."

Pulling your fingers out of her core makes Sana moan loudly. She blushes in shame. Doubt starting to rise inside of her. Is she really only doing this to team up with you?

"You only seem to care for power."

"So? Only a coward wouldn't want power."

You shut her up by letting your tip graze against her lips. Sana hisses through her teeth, unwilling to moan again.

"I'm just curious about how far you would be willing to go. How dedicated you are to this cause."

"Don't worry. I'm ready to do anything."

"Anything?"

You raise an eyebrow, which Sana can't see.

"Anything."

"That's reassuring."

Your nonchalant tone makes Sana shiver.

Finally, you push inside of her.

"Fuck, woman."

You can't help but marvel at how tight she actually is.

"Fuck me already."

It's a mixture of plea and demand.

With one hand you grab her hair, pushing her cheek against the wooden surface. Your other hand holds her waist.

Another moan escapes Sana's lips as you thrust forward. Before she can react, you pull back and push inside of her again.

After just a couple of seconds, you start to fuck her hard. The table rocks back and forth with every thrust. Her moans escape her lips, whenever you bottom out inside of her.

"Harder!"

Sana holds onto the edge of the table, her knuckles slowly starting to turn white.

Because you keep pushing her upwards with your thrusts, the young woman's feet eventually dangle in the air.

You are now able to fuck her even deeper. Her moans become louder when she feels your cock invading her pussy even further.

At this point, Sana is merely a hole for you to fuck. She doesn't move. Only your thrusts rock her body back and forth. The thin material of her clothes makes Sana's nipples rub against the wooden surface. They've become hard due to her arousal and are now adding to the pleasure she is already feeling.

"So good!"

She moans yet again. You suddenly realize, that this isn't really a save place to be this loud.

"Shut up."

You growl into her ear, trying to quiet her.

But Sana can't help it. She has already lost control over her body. Your cock is parting her walls again and again, making her clench around it tightly.

She is even unable to produce a disappointed whine, when you stop fucking her. You leaver her snug pussy, before getting her off your table.

Turning her around, you push Sana against the wooden post, which is holding up the roof of your tent. Reaching for your belt, you hold her arms up, before tying them together.

Sana is now unable to leave. You pick up her light frame, making her impale herself on your cock.

"By Bellona! Fuck!"

"I told you to stay quiet."

Your faces are barely an inch apart.

Because you push her body against the post, you are able to lift her up with only your left hand. Your right one moves upwards to wrap its fingers around her throat.

"One more word..."

You let the threat of unknown punishment linger in the air for a moment.

But you can't hold yourself back for long. Sana's pussy drips her juices onto your cock, coaxing you into resuming your pounding.

A whimper escapes her mouth, when you start to fuck her again. You can tell she is at least trying to stay quiet this time. While you make her bounce on your cock, you thrust upwards. It makes her eyes roll back, whenever she feels your cock pushing against her guts.

"Venus!"

A louder sigh escapes her mouth yet again. You close your fingers around her throat a little further.

"Behave."

The conflict in Sana's eyes amuses you.

She should be the one in charge. She is the noble one of the two of you after all. But here she is, bound to your post, your hand around her throat as you fuck her as hard as you can.

Sana tries to fight the belt, wanting to tell you that you have to choke her harder. She can't keep quiet when you fuck her like this.

Another moan escapes her lips and you tighten your grip yet again.

"I warned you."

You hiss into her face.

Sana's wide eyes look beautiful. The way she stares at you, begging you to fuck her harder, while she tries her best not to make any noise.

But she fails miserably. A loud sigh echoes through the tent.

Without a word, you reach upwards. The sound of metal on metal cuts through the night as you pull your pugio out of its sheath. You let Sana get a good look at it. Then, you slowly part her lips with its blade.

"If you don't want to hurt your pretty face..."

You don't continue your sentence once more. But Sana is well aware of the risks.

With your dagger in her mouth, Sana has to pull back her lips, while simultaneously biting onto the blade, to make sure it doesn't fall or hurt her.

You see her closing her eyes as you keep fucking her. She is now really quiet, focused on keeping your pugio in place.

"Finally. Your voice so annoying."

Sana blushes in shame, able to see your honesty in your eyes.

"At least you have a nice body. I could fuck you every day."

The young woman almost lets out another moan. She really has to hold herself back. This was the first time someone reduced her to nothing but a wet hole to fuck. She didn't expect it to feel this good.

You suddenly hear footsteps outside. You stop moving, almost making Sana whine in disappointment, but then she hears it too. The two of you hold your breath. Neither of you wanting to get caught.

As the footsteps disappear into the night, you resume your fucking.

You make Sana bounce up and down on your cock. She glides along its full length. Whenever you impale her on it, Sana's eyes shoot wide open. She would scream if it wasn't for the dagger between her teeth.

"I'm gonna cum."

You hiss into her face, unable to hold back longer. Her tight pussy has been working on draining your cock this whole time. It feels perfect, almost too good to pull out. But cuming inside is obviously not an option.

You put Sana back onto her own two feet, taking the knife out of her mouth. Undoing your belt, you free her arms. Sana drops to her knees, opening her mouth. You catch a couple drops of blood on the corners of her mouth, before she wraps her lips around your cock.

Your pugio falls out of your hand and you take a fistful of her beautiful hair. Her eyes look up at you, telling you to finish inside her mouth. Her tongue glides over every inch of your cock it can find, while her lips are tightly sealed around it.

"Sana."

You manage to groan her name, before you unload inside her mouth. You feel dizzy, having to close your eyes for a moment.

When you open them again, you see Sana gulping down your cum.

"How often do we need to do this, so that we have a deal?"

"I think you know the answer."

It's so dark that Sana's face is barely lit by the torch outside. You could swear a small smile plays around her lips though.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #twice sana #twice #sana minatozaki #sana twice #sana smut #sana #twice smut

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renren-006 · 9 days ago

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Doctors Magic | Lucius Verus x fem reader

plot: a doctor (previous gladiator) catches Lucius eye. A friendship forms and maybe more. Macranis is an envious man, an evil man.

warning: not historically accurate, violence, fluff, a littleangst

Word count (very long story): 6900 Words

a/n: Here is another story because this man is consuming my every waking moment! My friend said she would go see the movie with me again, and I'm excited about that. (I have to wait a few weeks tho) So until I can see my man on the big screen again, please enjoy my stories!! This is a really long one that took me a few days to finalise so please enjoy this long story!

Other Lucius Stories: Familiar Eyes Emperor Lucius

Ravi wandered into your makeshift home in one of the back cells of the gladiatorial pits. Your room was filled with a desk, a bed, and a closet. You didn't have much, but it was enough to feel like a home. You had no home of your own and no family now, so the cells became your refuge. After your own gladiator days and winning your freedom, you worked with Ravi and became a doctor.

A sheet hung over the cell door, along with a little sign saying “Welcome” or “Leave.” It was short, but it got through to the boys.

“I am telling you, more and more stubborn men in this place,” he said as he sat down. You turned from your desk, a book left open. “This new one, you would like him”

“Oh, would I?” you asked, facing towards the man who sat in your patient chair. “How do you know what I like?”

“I have eyes, femina. I see what you watch” he told you wiggling his finger at you, “and this one would make you…”

“I do not need you insinuating anything about my feelings, Ravi,” you told him. You got up from the chair and walked past him to the door. You peered out of your cell, which looked towards the training grounds. “Where?” Ravi got up and pointed towards the man. He was practicing his fighting against another gladiator, their swords crashing into one another.

“Am I right?” Ravi questioned, leaning slightly over their shoulder. You smiled up at the man, a brother of sorts to you now. “I…Maybe,” you told him, looking back at the brown-haired gladiator. “He looks troubled,” you noticed. This man looked as if he cared so much on his shoulders. The burdens of his past seeped into his being. Ravi nodded as he exited your tiny home, traveling back towards the gates where the other gladiators fresh out of the sun needed help. You took the morning off to be able to read a new book you had acquired. You watched the new gladiator fight from your door until he felt your eyes and turned to look at you. Dipping back into your room, you returned to your book before you made a fool of yourself by watching this man. Unfortunately, only so much could keep you attentive to your book as one of the boys traveled up to your door, another day of saving lives.

You knew most of the men who worked and played here. Macranis was one of these men, always trying to worm his way into your life. He had not been the one to bring you in, a champion. He was so irritated and jealous of his competitor that it was rumored he had the man killed and took the slaves he owned. This was a rumor, of course. You knew this man was trouble no less and kept him further than an arm's length away. The problem with your avoidance is his insistence that you join his gatherings and events and even watch the games alongside him. You couldn't avoid it even when Ravi offered to cover for you and say you were not feeling well and were under the doctor's orders to stay in bed.

That was where you sat that afternoon, watching the gladiatorial games beside Macranis in the emperor's box. Knowing you would be watching the boys get injured and be unable to treat them because of these obligations haunted you. You shifted uncomfortably in those lavish chairs.

“How nice of you to join us again y/n,” Geta spoke, “always nice to have a favored victor in our box”

“The pleasure is all mine. I am pleased to be able to sit here with your allowance, Emperor Caracalla and Geta,” you told them, sucking up to the emperors. They both looked at you with some form of hunger. You did your best to swallow your disgust down. Macranis's hand came into view as he put it onto your arm.

“I am thankful you allowed my request to have her join us,” Macranis said to them.

“For our friends, of course,” Caracalla said in a sing-song voice. You smiled, fakely, at the emperors and Macranis before focusing back on the game in front of you.

Just as you did, the new gladiator stepped out into the arena with a few others following. When he glanced up at the box and his eyes cast over everyone, they stopped when they landed on you. You both watched each other briefly before he looked back to the arena to see who he was fighting. The man atop the rhino left the gates, and you gasped slightly. As the fight continued and the gladiator continued winning, you could see him calculating his next move. As the rhino charged, he threw the gravel and rolled the other way. The gladiator on top of the rhino had no choice but to leave it and fight your gladiator on the ground.

“Mercy, Mercy,” shouts rose from the crowd; they did not wish to see him killed.

“Mercy,” you spoke, as did Lucilla. The woman's eyes met yours, and a small smile was placed there. She was a woman that many would underestimate, but you could tell she was the smartest one here. You smiled back at Marcus Aurellius' daughter.

“Your life has been spared,” Geta said to your gladiator. “I would sooner face your blade than be given Roman mercy,” he yelled back right before he killed the man in front of him and stumbled back down to the ground. You could see his wounds and knew you had to tend to them.

“I must take my leave; my boys need me,” you told the others. The General and his lovely wife, Lucilla, gave you a smile. Macranis, however, looked displeased.

“They will survive one more game without you,” he said matter-of-factly. You shook your head.

“After this last battle, I'm afraid I must insist,” you said as you rose, to which Macranis grabbed your arm.

“Then I will see you at my ball tonight,” Macranis implied. He had a way with words where they sounded like questions, but really, he wasn't asking.

“As you wish”

Back with the gladiators, you found your way to the gladiator's room. He sat there watching his arm bleed. When he noticed you had arrived, he stiffened.

“Come, I should fix that arm of yours,” you said, motioning for him to follow you back to your room. Hanno nodded and followed suit. He sat in the chair beside yours and propped his arm on the table. “You're going to want to take a big whiff of this; it's for the pain,” you told him while holding up a tiny dish with smoking opium. He only nodded and sniffed right before you put the needle into his arm.

“Damn woman,” he said to you, and you chuckled.

“I have heard worse,” you told him, “Tell me, gladiator, what is your name?” “Hanno,” he grunted, his teeth showing the pain he was in regardless of the opium flowing through him.

“Well, Hanno, I am y/n,” you told him, trying to make conversation while you stitched him up. You looked up to see Hanno nod at you in acknowledgment.

“Why were you with Macranis?” he asked you. You looked up to meet his eyes. His blue eyes were almost consumed by his pupils, high off the opium. He looked at you sweetly, swaying slightly in the chair.

“A request I couldn't afford to refuse,” you told him. Hanno was quiet after that, letting you finish stitching him up and tend to his other injuries. Once you were done, you sat back, seeing Hanno leave. “I look forward to seeing you fight again, Hanno,” you told him.

“I look forward to being in your care again,” he told you, that you were left alone in your room once again.

Macranis required you to join his party, and it was almost required after you left early from the games. You wore one of your more elegant dresses and headed for his estate. Once there, you made your way inside and saw the rest of the elite of Rome. You felt entirely out of place. Macaronis made it his job once he knew you had joined to keep you at his side. As the hours ticked by, you felt more and more ready to leave and return to the gladiators. Soon Macranis led you away and into a room out of wandering eyes.

“I should get going,” you told the man, hoping to avoid anything he was panning or even the conversation you were being brought into.

“Do you not wish to stay with me?” he asked smoothly. You felt your skin crawl at his words. You did not want to keep being alone with this man.

“As much as I enjoy your company, I need to go so I am ready for the games tomorrow and my job,” you told the man. He didn't like that answer. You began to get a bit worried, looking twords the doorway.

“Stay,” he commanded. You wanted to run as his hands clasped over your arms. He was too close, and you turned your head.

“I must leave,” you tried again. His only response was to grab your face and turn it to look at himself. As he got closer and closer to you, you decided to push him off you. Macranis stumbled back. “I said I must go,” you said again. As you turned to leave, Macranis grabbed your hand and pulled you back. His fist flew towards you. It rang through your skull, making you stumble. You haven't been punched well since you won your freedom. The slap that followed was harsh. He grabbed your face in his hands again.

“Next time I offer you a spot by my side, do not push me away,” he said, and he kissed your cheek, “I won't be as…kind about my violence next time.”

Once the man let go, you sprinted out the part, never making eye contact with anyone there, knowing your abrupt departure probably caused no one to turn.

You stumbled back into the gladiator's arena. Your dress was disorganized, your hair a mess, and you could feel the forming bruise deepening on your cheek. The cut on your lip made you wince, and you didn't even want to know how you looked. As you made your way past the training grounds, you could see Hanno, your gladiator, training. He looked at you as he heard the footsteps, and you could see you did not look well by the look in his eyes. You turn your head fast and quicken your pace to your cell. He followed.

“What happened?” he asked at your doorway. You had just sat on your bed when he rounded to your door. You didn't say anything, and I'm still unsure if your voice would work. The ability to put what happened into words was hard. Hanno came inside the room, closer to you now. “Who did this?” “Macranis,” you spoke lightly. Finally, finding your voice. You looked up at him, a wordless plea for him to sit beside you. Hanno came over to your bed, sitting gently next to you.

“I will kill him for you, if you wish,” he said; you laughed a little but winced slightly when your lips upturned. A small subtle joke to lighten the mood. The undertones of the offer hung in the air. “What shall I use to help?” he asked.

You motioned with your hand to the rag on your table, a small bowl of water and ointment you knew would help your lips from becoming infected. Hanoo gently did as instructed and cleaned your lip, cheek, and the cuts on your forehead. Once done, he put a small amount of ointment in your lip and a small torn piece of cloth to help it stay. You were grateful for his help.

“Thank you, Hanno,” you told him. He only nodded. You could hear the guards rounding up the others to get them into their cells. “As much as I enjoy your company, I'm afraid it is your bedtime.”

“That time again,” he told you getting up from next to you, “I will see you tomorrow, y/n”

“Sleep well Hanno”

The next day, you woke up to a bruised cheek, split lip, and a pounding headache. You dressed fast, set your hair up in a hairdo that wouldn't aggravate the headache, and headed out. YOu passed by the other gladiators and stopped by Ravis set up.

“You mind?” you asked him. Ravi looked up from his unpacking to rush over to you.

“y/n! What on the gods happened.” “I can not speak his name right now,” you said, glancing around at the guards. Ravi quickly understood, having known about Macranis and the rumors. Ravi motioned you to sit as he worked on your split lip. He stitched it up once and washed it to disinfect it. The bruise, however, couldn't be helped much. He put a light amount of bast to help, but that was all he could do.

“I am sorry for this,” he told you. You shook your head, knowing it was never his fault.

“Should have seen Hanno. Looked as if he wanted to rip the man's head off”

“He saw?”Ravi asked surprised. “He helped,” you told him simply. “Gladiator tending to his doctor, what an interesting turn of event.s”

“Did I not say you would like him” Ravi said. You chuckled and nodded your head. That day you didnt join Macranis inside the emperors box. You did not leave the grounds for many days, deciding keeping to be around the gladiators was safer than the world beyond those walls.

“Are you from Rome?” Hanno asked. You looked up twords the man. You had sat yourself outside by the training grounds. Another one of the books you remembered your father reading was in your hands. Hanno had walked over from where he was training to join you. As you looked twords the sky, you realized how the afternoon had slowly started to turn to night. Many of the other gladiators had already left.

“Yes,” you told him, “I used to live just outside of Rome.” “How did you end up here?” he asked curiously. “My father. He was not well-liked,” you told the man. Hanno sat next to you, obviously wanting to know more. “He was a political speaker, always talked about the good words of Marcus Aurelius and how our Rome should be as he speaks. It is as they say; his words were real until the moment they were talked about, and then it became a whisper once again.n” “What happened to him?” “He was killed. Right here at the coliseum, actually,” you told him. You remembered the moment he died, standing close to him on that gravel arena. Your father spoke no words at that moment but looked to the sky as he was killed. After that, you were instead sentenced to be a slave to the games. “I was forced into the games after that, and my mother was long dead before any of this.”

“Im sorry” he told you. The words of understanding, the pain inside that sorry. You knew Hanno had lost people, you knew he understood your feelings.

“You have lost people, so have I. I fought for years with his ideas in my mind, but with these new emperors and Macranis, I am not sure that the Rome Marcus Aurelius spoke about is achievable,” you told him, shutting the book in your hands. It wasn't like you had given up on your father's words, but you feared they started meaning less at some point. “I think it can be,” Hanno told you. “I hail from Numidia but was born here in Rome.” You met his eyes. He kept this to himself; you had not heard the others talking about where he was from. You were shocked he trusted you enough to tell you about his origins.

“You are Roman” you asked, the shock of his reval settling into your bones.

“Yes. I lived here during and after Marcus Aurelius” he told you. “I know those ideas”

“I guess his vision is not completely a whisper then” you told the man. Hanno nodded. “Would you tell me more about your home?”

Hanno and you traveled to his cell and talked for hours in hushed tones about his home, and you talked about yours. You recalled all the memories of your childhood home, the garden, the foundation, and the long walkway to get to your home. You talked about the way your father would always smell of parchment and how he had an entire room of Marcus Aurelius's words and writings inside, along with other political and philosophical ideals. Hanno asked many questions about your father and his ideals, and you told him everyone. The idea of a new Rome, a better Rome, was something even the two of you still hoped could exist. You, in turn, asked about his life in Numidia and what it was like there. He told you about his home and his late wife. You wanted to know more about his home but it was still a subject of sorrow for him. When the night became late, the two of you didn't stop talking. Instead, you curled in His small bed and continued till your eyes fell heavy.

Another day woke the world. You rose from Hanno's cot, and it was another long night of talking. It was starting to get to you during the day and you knew Hanno needed more sleep for his games. You rose from the side of the bed closest to the open room. Slipping out from under Hanno's arm, you slipped out of the cell and back to your room. Unfortunately, you were again required to join Macranis in the emperor's box. You had refused to see him for far too long that you knew there would be trouble if you didn't go. You wore the same pink dress you had whenever you sat there and strolled back out into the world. Macranis was already in the box when you joined him in the afternoon heat.

“The champion doctor” Get a spoke, “finally back in our box”

Macranis eyes met yours, and so did the Generals. That bruise and cut lip were still not fully healed.

“Take my seat y/n” General Acatious spoke, “I wish to sit a bit higher up today” You could feel the tension in your back left as you sat next to Lucilla, refusing to look twords the man next to Acacius.

“Afternoon, my lady,” you spoke to the woman. She smiled warmly at you.

“Welcome” she told you, “Now I finally have someone to gossip with” she told you, clearly doing her best to lighten the mood.

“I do enjoy a bit of gossip,” you told her, “The gladiators don't gossip much. I require some good Roman insite.” Lucilla smiled, enjoying your company already. You knew the woman had supported your father during his political activism, and she clearly remembered who you were. If only you were able to speak to her now about it all. Lucilla eyed you curiously. You smiled and shook your head. As the two of you continued to chat, Lucilla told you about the new elite women and wine companies opening up by the ports. Once it was Hanno's turn, your focus was more on the games, and Lucilla seemed to also be particularly interested. As you watched him walk out like he always does, a smile played on your lips. Hanno eyed you in the box and shifted them between you and Lucilla; he smiled and even took a moment to just look at you. You wish your heart was not pounding as hard as it was, but he had that effect on you. Lucilla gave you a knowing look.

“Your favorite?” she asked. You laughed a little.

“What gave it away?” you asked. She only smiled at that.

“He is a strong and capable one,” Lucilla remarked, almost as if she wanted to know what you thought.

“Hannos a good man,” you said to her. Lucilla looked…proud at your words. The games continued o,n and when Hanno won his game and was sent back under the arena, you took your leave. Lucilla bid you farewell, as well as General Acasius. Macranis only focus on the games, no mind to you. Worry built inside you at that. When you walked back down to the gladiators and that moment played in your mind, you almost missed the door to your room.

Macranis grew increasingly insistent on your attendance in the box and even at his parties. You had not gone, and even when you joined them in the box, Lucilla started making Gernal Acasius give his seat to you instead. You had not talked or spoken to the man in a few weeks.

“You seem worried today,” Hanno told you as he entered your room. You nodded your head at him.

“I have fought in those pits, and for some reason, Macranis scares me more than those men ever did,” you told him, “I do not want to go alone to that lavish party.”

“He is insisting again?” he asked shocked.

“It feels more than just insisting, almost like he thinks he can command me to go,” you told him. “I am sick of men telling me what to do.”

“Believe me, y/n, I understand,” Hanno told you, causing you to take a deep breath and calm down. He had a way of calming you down, even if his words were simple. “Do not go if you fear it; stay here and talk with me.” Hanno's pleading eyes were enough to almost make you say yes.

“I wish I could,” you told him. “I wish nothing more than to stay here with you, but I can not. This man, the power he holds here, it is worse if I do not go.”

“Take me” he said quickly. You looked at the man with shock.

“You must be mad!" you said with wide eyes. Hanno had to have lost his mind. “Take me; I will protect you,” He insisted, grabbing your hands. There had been a shift in Hanno since you started speaking and lying together at night. Those moments together left him wanting to be a different, better man. He says you and you saw him, and because of that, he tried to protect it.

“Taking you is too much, Hanno, that's asking for punishment not only for you but me too,” you told him. “I will go for a short time and be back before you know it”

While the party was lavish as ever, many of the roman elite were there again. Many more men and women were there from the pleasure houses for the gusts, too. Macranis spotted you immediately.

“My my y/n, you look wonderful tonight,” he told you. Bowing you kissed his hand as he extended it to you. A small prayer went out to the gods in favor of no violence happening. You smiled up at Macranis.

“Thank you for having me,” you told him, lying through your teeth. He only cooly smiled. He kept you by his side, and he talked with others. Then, with one group, they spoke of the games and the gladiators in them; Macranis smiled.

“Y/n” he said, “You have a soft spot for those gladiators, do you not?” “I…I treat their injuries, if that is what you mean?” You said to those around you. “You are the doctor?” One of the ladies asked with disgust, “How can you stand it?” “It is not all that bad,d,” you told them.

“She was a slave in the Colosseum,” Macranis said quickly, causing many eyes to fall on you, “She would not be disgusted by these men because she used to be one” “I…”

“You were a slave,” A mother spoke, the disbelief and disgust evident on their face and in their words. You wanted to shrink away or even yell at them that their opinions of slaves and gladiators were wrong. You could only look at the eyes of everyone and see their true feelings and judgment.

“Yes. Yes. She was quite fierce. Were you not?” you could only focus on the growing ringing in your ears. MAcranis laughed slightly and his arm cascaded over your shoulders. “It's no wonder she stays; she's got many men down there to satisfy her.”

“I do not,” you snarled. You looked at Macranis with a feeling you haven't felt since the arena. You wanted this man dead. “I am there to treat them with the respect they have earned.”

“Respect? Why would those lowly and traitorous men deserve respect?” He asked you. He had a motive here, to make you seem undesirable to the people around him and to remind you of your place. He was still pissed about not allowing his advances and your avoidance of him in the emperor's box. MAcranis was not a man to take lightly; he was dangerous.

“They deserve more respect than you do,” you told him, shoving his arm off yours and leaving his lavish palace.

When you retuned, you found a woman talking to Hanno. He saw you in the hallway before the woman did. Lucilla turned twords you, letting her veil sway as she did. She smiled at you before she turned back to Hanno and bid him a good buy.

“My dear y/n,” Lucilla spoke to you, “thank you.” Wonder flooded through you. Glancing back to Hanno, you saw him seated with his head in his hands.

“Is he okay?”

“I believe he will be. He will find a way to be with your help,” she told you. You were ever curious about why she was there and what her words meant. “I must be off. Oh, and dear, you better take care of that,” she said, pointing to the matchup you knew was running down your face. As you swiped it away, she was gone. Looking back you saw Hanno watching you, he motioned you to his cell. As the door was opened for you, he swallowed you in his arms.

“Are you alright?” he asked you. A small laugh escaped you.

“I could ask the same,” you told him as he realized you to look at your face. He brushed your cheek, spearing or clearing the rined makeup you were not sure.

“What did he do?” he asked, the intensity of his voice surrounding the room.

“I never realized how hard words could hurt,” you told him; another tear fell just at that. “I was there just to be humiliated,” you told Hanno.

“He is a dangerous man,” Hanno said; you nodded your head. “I..need to tell you something,” he spoke to you, leading you over to his bed.

“What is it?” you asked him. He looked as ifhe wanted to take back what he said.

“I have not been truthful with you,” He told you, “I'm more than just a Roman. My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius, and my grandfather was Marcus Aurelius.” You stared at him, unable to think of what to say next. You just nodded your head at him, eye contact never breaking. “I'm sorry I did not tell you before”

“Why are you sorry?” you asked suddenly, “Han-Lucius, you have a name, a history that holds such weight within Rome, of course you did not say anythin.g”

“I had not come to terms with who I was for a long time,” he said, “I did not want to be him, but I think it is time I remember who my family was. It is because of you I can accept it” “Lucius,” you said, sweetly saying his name as you held his face in your hands. “I did nothing. You had to concur that battle yourself.”

“I could not have done it without you,” he told you. Leaning into your hands. You wanted him close to you, your heart beat faster. “Thank you”

“I'm so glad I could help you,” you told him. “I…I know you are not ready…but if you tell your secrets, I should tell mine.” “If you wish,” he said, you dropped your hands into your own lap.

“I did not mean to fall for you, Lucius, but I have. I know your past and pain, and I do not wish to force anything onto you, but I think you should know my feelings,” you said, only looking up once you had finished. Lucius held an unreadable face. “I'm glad you told me about your origins. I will leave you for the night,” you said and got up. Lucius' hand found yours before you could leave. You glanced back at him, only for him to place his hand on your cheek and bring you close, kissing you sweetly. You almost lost your balance, but Lucius held you. When you broke,e and he looked at you, the smile in his eyes and lips made you understand.

“I do feel the same, but I am still a broken man,” he told you, “Would you be there with me to learn to love again?”

“For you? Anything” you told him. Lucius smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

That night, you lay in his arms as he recalled the memories he had as a child. He recalled the memories with his mother, his grandfather, and the man he admired, who was his father. You remembered Maximus, who set out to get revenge against Emperor Commodus. Here, his son lay after twenty years of being away from Rome, only to end up in the same games his father played in. Lucius was strong; you knew he was.

You were not told about the plot to de-throne the emperors until a few days later. Lucius returned from his naval battle after trying to kill General Acacius, only for his mother to go and tell him about her plans. Lucius felt terrible for letting his anger get the best of him and almost killing the man his mother clearly loved. He told you about their plans and how Macranis was slowly inching his way further and further into the emperor's minds. He was evil; you both knew it, but how much did the people know. You could always feel the tension between the people and the emperors, knowing they were close to rebelling.

It was a lovely afternoon when a few men came to take you to Lucius mothers home, Lucilla stood at the gate with a smile on her face. You embraced her and walked in together. As you two talked you could tell she wonderd how much you knew.

“They do not hold the people's hearts,” you told Lucilla casually. “One wrong move by the emperors, and I fear the people may result in madness.” You gave her a knowing look that, hidden within your words, were hits to cause something to get the people on their side.

“I fear that as well,” she told you. Lucilla was already aware of the people's disloyalty. She nodded her head twords you, understanding that Lucius had told you everything. “How is your gladiator?”

“Very well” you told her smiling, “he has a heart I havent even beguin to understand fully. I look forward to learning more”

Lucilla smiled, another knowing glance. She could see the blush on your cheeks and maybe also your red lips. There was a glow about you, something only Lucius could bring out.

“Lucilla. He makes me believe in Rome again,” you said to her. A vulnerable statement with no layers or undertones, a clear meaning anyone could understand. You did not wish to hide how her son made you feel or believe in a better future.

“You have truly helped him find himself then,” she said. “I always knew his father's heart was in him”

“He's got his mother smarts as well,” you told her, “and his grandfather's spirit.” Lucilla could feel your pride for her son. Lucius was a good man who had overcome so much in his life. Now that he was here in Rome you could believe that Rome could change and be better. Lucilla could sense this revelation and leaned back in her chair. The rest of the afternoon was spent gossiping and even talking of favorite tea flavors. It was evening when you arrived back at the gladiator's homes. You were not alone. The moment of capture happened so fast that you had no time to panic. You were unconscious before you even fell.

When you awoke, you were in a lavishly designed room. Around you were some chairs, a table, a small closet, and a window. You rise from the bed, realizing you are still wearing the pink dress you wore to meet Lucilla. As you walked over to the window, you looked out onto the Roman streets and noticed the Colosseum loomed close to the building. You were inside Macranis house. When those doors opened, the man himself walked through the doors. He smiled at you and clapped his ringed hands together.

“Welcome,” he said. You looked back outside before you glanced back.

“How long have I been here?” “Only a few hours,” he told you and walked over. “We have a spectacle to put on today, my lovely. Get changed, and I will escort you to the Colosseum.”

“What spectacle?” you asked.

“It will be your spectacle,” he said, “A spectacle for the people on what happens when you fool me.” As he left, you felt yourself fall to the ground. He had planned for your death since that first incident, and now he had his opportunity. You dressed in the lavish white gown he wanted you to wear, your hair was braided elegantly, and you were led out to the games. As you walked in, cuffs were put onto your hands.

The more you walked, the more you realized no one was on this side of the colosseum; you were going to the second entrance to the gravel pits. You stepped inside, and every memory that was housed here from your time came flooding back. You remember your fights, your rage and your ability. The ability to fight for survival had been lost to you, put away but now back.

“Passed famed gladiator y/n now here for her traitorous acts of not honoring an engagement and being with a slave gladiator, Hanno” the announced shouted twords the people of Rome. You could hear the disagreeing voices of the crowd. This was what a mass crowd looked like when angered. As you looked into the emperor's box, you saw Macranis smiling and the emperors watching with intrigue. Lucilla sat in her chair near them chaine,d and General Acatious was held similarly. Lucilla looked at you with fear for yourself and yourself. Understanding shone in your eyes; you were all here for one territory or another. Macranis had made your spectacle be first saving Lucillas and the generals for later on that day. You where calculating your odds when the doors opened. Lucius walked out but stopped once he saw you in the center. The guards around you were ready to close once he came closer. He walked slowly, never letting his eyes leave you.

“y/n…” he muttered, pain evident in how he spoke your name. He worried the whole knight over where you were.

“Wait,” you told him. You knew they would be listening, and you didn't need him being dragged into this. You were still thinking of how you were going to get out of here when a sword was thrown at your feet. You glanced twords the box as Geta stood.

“Gladiator, do your job and kill this…whore before you. She has betrayed a dear friend of the emperors and must be punished.” He spoke with conviction, sure of his words and actions. The crowd booed at them; some stood, and others stayed seated, speaking their minds. Lucilla looked twords you; maybe she could also sense the emperors losing their support. The emperors were oblivious to the rising hatred. You looked back at Lucius, hoping he could see the rage in your eyes. You wanted to show these people that they could fight against the emperors against the people who oppressed them.

You crouched and gathered your sword and locked eyes with Lucious. You moved your hands so the chains clanked against one another, and Lucious's eyes grew. Good, he knew what to do. Lucius raised his sword, showing his acceptance of the game. He charged at you, and in the last moment, you opened your arms till the chains pulled against one another, and Lucius' sword swung down, breaking them. The guards around you readied their swords.

“Seems I get to see you in action now” Lucius said with a smirk.

“Ready to see what a champion looks like?” you asked smuggly, turning around and becoming flush with Lucious own back as you wathed the wtow sides of the arena.

“You ready?” he asked. “As I'll ever be”

The guard charged, and you danced with them. Your sword flew through the air, your enemies falling prey to the sharp edges. The dress you wore flowed with you, you were the waves against the italian shore flowing with power and grace. The cuffs and loose chains rattled against your arm and sword as you spun, making your ears ring. Blood now stained that white gown and you hardly cared. Your hair slowly came loose from those braids, and you felt the same feelings you had all those years ago. You had been free for three years, and here you were back where you started fighting for your life, which was exhilarating. You missed the way your blood pumped and your sword cut. You missed the way a sword felt in your hand, like the perfect extension. When you spun around and realized too soon all your enemies lay dead on the collosium floor, you breathed slow and deep. You soaked it all in, letting the sun warm your face. It was exciting when you looked behind you and found Lucius turning to face you. You both had slain the men put here to guard and potentially kill you. When you looked up at the box and saw Macranis with a crestfallen face, you knew you had one last thing to accomplish. As you looked around, you saw one of the men with a knife strapped to his side. You stormed over twords him, dropping your blade with a clatter and ripping the knife out of its sheath. Lucius was by your sid,e instantly taking the knife from you.

“Lucius” you said daringly. He only smiled.

“Allow me the honors” he said, “I said I would kill him for you and that is what I intend to do.”

You watched as the man before you somehow found a way into the emperor's box, walking past everyone there and right to Macranis, who had no time to fight before the knife was plunged deep into his heart. There were words whispered by Lucious into Macranis's ear, only for him to know. The look that befell Macranis's face told you that whatever words had been said had killed him more than that knife had.

“Guards” Geta yelled, but no one came. As you looked at the crowd, you realized why. There, the people took up their own arms and fought against the soldiers stationed there. Your intended execution had caused the people to realize their low place in this Roman world, and now they were doing their best to take it back. As Geta and Caracalla left the coliseum, you knew their lives would be ended shortly.

Lucious stood out on the hill looking down twords Rome. You wandered over from your farmhouse and hugged the man, sliding to his side.

“You overthink,” you told him. He laughed before looking down at yo,u pulling you closer to his side. It was a wordless encounter, knowing only you knew him and his soul now. Lucilla and Acacius were alive and back in their home in Rome, leaving you and Lucius to move out to the countryside. You preferred this life, a quiet one, compared to your formal living arrangement. You still worked as a doctor, tending to some of the locals and Lucius when he got nipped by the chickens. It became well known that they preferred you to him. You relaxed in Lucius arms, this was what your father had been talking about. Peace and steadyness in Rome. You could feel it, like Rome had been holding her breath for so long, and now she had let go. The people of Rome were treated better now, in the hands of the people for the people.

“I guess his dream was not a whisper after all,” Lucius said. “Our fathers will now be at peace”

#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x you #lucius versus x reader #lucius verus #gladiator movie #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator x reader #paul mescal

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simpjaes · 10 months ago

Text

ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT. 2 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part one | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader

WORDCOUNT ― 21.8k

CONTENT ― modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS― jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring

NOTE ― you must read part one to understand the story. anyway i did not mean to go in so deep with jungwon, i just really fucking adore him please forgive me. anyway, this is briefly edited. if you see a typo, shhhhhh, i don't wanna know.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him,

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“My love, let me.”

You sit up only to be eased back onto the soft mattress. Pillows plush against your head as Sunghoon dabs away at each puncture he’s left on you.

“You know you can’t sit up so quickly, just rest and let me.”

You’re littered with his bites by now and you only grow more and more enamored with the feeling of it. Or, perhaps you just enjoy the fact that he’s fixated on drinking from you. Multiple times a day, until your fingers and toes are numb, until you can barely stand without dropping to the floor.

Enamored through all of it, really. With the way he bites so gently only to suck harder and harder until his fingers grip and pierce through your skin much like his teeth do. He’ll hold you so hard through it, forcing arousal to run through you every single time he goes for that artery in your thigh. You think that’s his favorite spot to bite, if the dozens of wounds there are anything to go by. Truly, you’re enamored with him, always wanting to give him more just so he stays with you longer.

You seem to have lost yourself in the lust of it all. The fantasy, the desire. On the brink of insanity, you know you’ve grown obsessed with what Sunghoon does to you, and it’s to the point that you don’t question yourself like you normally would. Your desire for this is too strong, far too intimidating to doubt.

But since that night, he always leaves you with blood against his lips. Aroused, frustrated, confused. Never once letting a hand stray too far, never letting his lips trace anywhere but to your wounds or new expanse of skin that needs to be bitten.

For days now you’ve been here. You lay here one full day since you were supposed to be back at work too, just waiting for the moment Sunghoon will do more than just drink from you. Mostly for a confirmation. It feels like you’re forcing yourself to go missing for this alone and every night you lie awake in this room waiting, wanting more from him now than you think you ever have.

The room you're in now is lonely, though adorned nearly as beautiful as the one you were in the night Sunghoon stole you away. You know the place you want to be is just down the hall, but your legs won’t carry you there no matter how much you try. He’s rendered you bed ridden and you miss it there, with his silk sheets and candle lit walls.

Then again, maybe it’s not the room at all that you miss. Maybe it’s just Sunghoon.

You can’t help but note that when he’s on you or next to you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. But when you’re alone, you feel your skin crawl with such immense anxiety that you nearly want to scream out for him to come back. Several times already you have called out for him mere moments after he’s left the room. It gives you hope in knowing that each time, he does return to you even if just for a moment.

All of it is very arousing when he comes to you, but it’s killing you inside to know that he does nothing more than feed off of you. You get nothing out of it but his presence, and perhaps he expects that to be enough. It’s driving you insane to give everything you have to him so willingly, knowing he hasn’t offered anything back to you.

The fact that you want this, you want him, and you want to be the only blood he craves? It’s a feeling you’ve had to accept, because trying to deny it at this point would only lead you down a more destructive path. As if the one you’re on now isn’t already killing you, if not physically, emotionally. You want to be the person lying in his bed again so badly. You want to show him that you’re no longer terrified. You want to give him equal arousal and interest.

But he doesn’t offer it. No, he simply bites.

“I can do it.” You say to him in a frustrated sigh. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

He’s taken aback by the way you rip the gauze from his hands, sitting up and scooting away from him when you dip it into the bowl of alcohol. Your head spins at the act, but you push through the weakness anyway, knowing he doesn’t like the distance you’re creating between him and you.

You don’t like the distance either, but it’s helpful to know he doesn’t ignore it.

“I’m aware.” Sunghoon narrows his eyes at the way your heart is beating for him right now, taking the gauze back from you and gripping your arm to pull you back and against him. “Why are you being difficult?”

He cleans a wound just under your jaw as he looks at you, waiting for you to answer him. You stare back as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, not wincing at all like you previously had when he lets the alcohol burn the swollen punctures.

“Hah, so you can’t read minds?” You confirm for yourself, though you had the suspicion that he couldn’t. “You just keep doing this–” You continue, trying not to sound as if you’re nagging. “And nothing else.”

He tilts his head as he moves the gauze to another part of your neck, knowing full well what it is you want.

“Nothing else?” He repeats in a sly question. “Is there more you want?”

You nod slightly, feeling the cold alcohol send a shiver across your skin, your head finally clearing of the dizziness just from sitting up.

“Name it.”

Somehow, you lose the ability to ask for what you want. It feels silly to be mad that he hasn’t given you any sexual pleasure despite feeding off of you for days now. Is it insane that sex is all you want in return? Should you ask for financial compensation or something?

“Ah.” He answers for you with an all-knowing smirk, his nostrils flaring as he inhales your scent. “You want pleasure, yes?”

“Do you not?” You ask simply, and he pulls back with the gauze to look at you dumbfounded.

For a solid twenty seconds the two of you stare at each other before he’s dropping the gauze into the bowl and pulling you against him in full, turning your body so that your back is to his chest. His strong arms are still cold, but you feel warm enough against him like this.

“It pleases me to know you want it.” He smiles against the top of your head. “Unfortunately, I have other things to tend to.” He continues, pausing to hold you a bit closer. “I still have to feed, love, and I still need to maintain order here. I cannot just spread your legs every waking minute.”

You’re not asking for him to fuck you every waking minute. It makes you feel as if he’s annoyed to even use such words regarding this. Still, your cheeks warm at his sweet voice.

“As much as I’d like to.”

Oh. Your cheeks aren’t just warm, they’re on fire at those words. You’d grasp at anything right now, despite feeling like an afterthought. You don’t like that you’re not a priority to him, even though he fucking feeds on you consistently. To the point you can’t even stand for a full minute without fucking fainting from blood loss. Still, you accept his words and try to think of the positives over the negatives.

Unfortunately, you’ll never be satisfied with just his words and a mere ten seconds later you’re right back to questioning, doubting, and feeling upset.

So he can feed this often, but not even slip a finger into you through it?

Priorities. He has to feed, he said? Does he not already?!

“Wait, Sunghoon, you do feed.” You argue. “On me.”

He shakes his head at your ignorance of believing he’ll ever truly have enough of you. Even past death, he’ll never have enough. Which is precisely why you’re still breathing.

“There are needs I have that you’ve yet to understand. You satiate the hunger, yes, but that is nothing more than a feeling, not a truth.”

You try to comprehend his words but fall short. Only because that would mean–

“You’re becoming afraid again,” He comments on your heart rate. “Calm yourself, darling, the need within me is no fault of my own and I’ll continue to keep you from seeing the act take place.”

There’s silence from you as you try to calm yourself down. Of course he has to feed, but…is that not what he’s already been doing to you? Your heart isn’t racing from fear, it’s racing from–jealousy.

“So, mine isn’t enough?” You feel your heart shatter a bit when you voice it, knowing full well that for him to be full, he likely has to kill.

Why are you jealous? Well, if you’re so irresistible like he says you are, why does he hold back? Why are you still alive? Does your blood not taste as good as whoever else he’s been having at? Why does he keep you around, but no one else? Maybe they’re the ones who are irresistible, and you’re just a placeholder for if he can’t find his meal for the night. Maybe he’s just using you.

“Hmm.” Sunghoon thinks hard at your question. “You’re feeling envious?”

You don’t respond to him or the way he clocks your jealousy, and instead shake his grip off of you before grabbing the gauze yourself again.

He watches you take the material and dip it into the liquid, moving it down your legs and to the assault of wounds against your thigh.

“You’re truly strange.” He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs, listening closely to the artery you have there, always so hungry for more but knowing he need not drink for the time being. After all, he’s just eaten. “Almost as unnatural as I am.”

You have to force back a smile at the truth of his words though, softening at the way he compares you to him like the two of you fit together perfectly. The jealousy rages within you, but so does this strange adoration you have for him.

“To think I don’t crave you? Have I not shown you already?”

“Hmm, you might need to remind me.” You’re being playful now, trying to get what you want. Entirely thankful for the way he solves every problem you have with him in your head even if just for a moment.

You think you’ll always miss him on a deeper level than just sitting and speaking though.

“When can I leave the room?” You ask now, suddenly. “When can I come back to your room?”

Sunghoon doesn’t fight his own smile, loving the way you stay of your own free will, even while upset with him for not giving you more than that single night of love making.

“Not yet, love.” He mutters now, knowing that it’s not likely for you to be able to make it down the hallway without calling for his help, also knowing that he can’t give you what you want again so soon.

“Oh.” You look at him, face falling. “Let me guess, because you have better shit to do.”

“Still so envious.” He shakes his head with a laugh. “You’ll learn soon enough how I need you.”

Just, not yet.

After all, he drinks you until he has no choice but to stop. Multiple times a day, draining you until it’s near dangerous. The fact that you enjoy it drives him to do it more and more.

You think it’s easy for him to utilize self-control around you? You think he doesn’t want to experience you in every way you can offer? With those pretty sounds you make? God, he misses the way your body hugged his cock so much. You’re out of your mind to think he’s holding out on you because he doesn’t want it. Because you're not good enough? Stupid, stupid girl.

He needs it. He wants it. He’s fucking obsessed with what you do to him.

You’re truly not the only one trying to adjust to this situation. He has to be very careful with you, and having sex with you could very well break the resolve he’s forced into himself. A simple touch from you that feels too good could have him acting on a split second decision, drinking until you’re dead and cold, just like him.

Essentially, he has to train himself to your scent and taste. Sure, he’s been fucking nearly every victim since his cock started working again, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’d rather it be you. In fact, the only reason he’s fucking them is to satiate the need to destroy everything that you are for his own desire of having you.

The issue is that his drive to kill is insanely high, smelling you just down the hall makes every new victim taste better. It makes his cock fuck harder, it makes their bodies feel almost good enough for him to release. But they’re not you, and it’s rendering him unable to control himself.

His recent victims? Oh, it ends so gruesomely. He feels overheated in the moment, drenched, fucking feral when he makes his kill. Wishing it was you, ignoring the scent of the person beneath him just to smell you from a different room.

If he gets his hands on you when he’s in that state of mind again, you’ll be gone forever. That’s something Sunghoon wouldn’t be able to live with. Already he’s controlled himself through it once and that may very well have been the hardest thing he’s done in his life. He can’t promise that he can hold back again.

Until he can feed and fuck without feeling his instinct grab him by the throat, he cannot do more than small feedings with you. That alone is training all on its own, because every single time he feeds, he struggles not to take all of it.

Bit by bit. Sunghoon has to take you piece by fucking piece. And your willingness to do it, entirely awake and aware, makes it all the more difficult.

He can’t tell you this. Not yet, at least. You’d know the danger you’re in. Nor can he pretend like he will let you leave out of fear. He needs to keep this peace with you until he can truly enjoy you in a way that will ensure you’ll be alive and well after the fact.

And so, he changes the subject, grabbing you even tighter and hugging you in the way any modern boyfriend would. This. This is something he can handle.

“Are you bored of me carrying you across the room?” He asks. “Do you miss walking on your own two feet that much, if just to make it to my room?” He smiles now, making jokes with you that feel a bit dry when it hits your ears.

“Are you implying that I’m a slut?” You laugh at his attempt to make you smile, slapping against his cold arm playfully. “That the only reason I want to leave this room is to come into yours and fuck you?”

He shrugs from behind you, hugging tighter, wanting to be under your skin with that beating heart.

“Am I not right to assume? You little harlot.”

Well, he got you there.

And you laugh with him about it, living in your little fantasy world like this never has to end. Reality looms taller than Sunghoon does, unfortunately.

He can feel your heart rate pick up when your laugh slows down.

“But, Sunghoon, I can’t stay here for much longer like this.” You drop it on him like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and oh how he wishes you could just disappear with him. “I haven’t been home, my phone is there and I’m sure people have been calling.”

His eyes darken at your words as he pushes you from his grasp. Already you wish to leave? After complaining to him about what he doesn’t give you? Is that why you’re saying this right now? No sex means you’ll leave?

Serves him right for not using the pull on you. He should have kept hold of your mind rather than relish in your willingness.

“I’ve missed work already.” Your voice gets smaller as you watch him move from the bed and stand in front of you, the scent of cinnamon assaulting your nose along with his darkened and intimidating facial expression. “I– I’ll–come back. I promise.” You cower immediately.

Sunghoon shakes his head at you.

“Did I not make myself clear?” He deepens his voice, unsure of how to handle his own internal panic. “Never have I let a commoner leave this cathedral alive and knowing the truth.”

“Are you–threatening me?” You ask, scooting away from him and accidentally knocking over the bowl of alcohol with your foot.

“Did you not just say you envy the others? Envy dying by my hand?” He questions you back, looming over you in an intimidating stance. Suddenly much, much taller than reality. “Every time you’ve said you’d come back, you’ve done no such thing. Have I upset you this much?”

You frantically shake your head.

“No, no!” You lift your hands in defense, reaching out to his towering figure. “I want to be here with you! You just said yourself that you have things to tend to, so do I! If I don’t show up at work, or at least have my phone, people will have the fucking cops out and looking for me!”

Sunghoon softens, cinnamon air fading out within a second. He feels only slightly ashamed of his immediate outburst when all you can offer back to him is truth. Perhaps you’re the only one living in the real world, even if he’s been living in it for far, far, longer.

You’ve pulled him into a fantasy, just like he has for you. He truly let himself forget that you’re no victim that’s meant to die. You can’t just disappear without question, and already it has been days.

Still, you can’t just leave him.

“I see.” He says, reaching down to grab at the hands you have clinging to his clothes in an attempt to calm himself more than you. “Shall I retrieve your device for you then?”

You slowly nod, looking away from him and ignoring the fact that as much as you do want to be here with him, the fact that he just implied that you can never leave is a bit– um, intense. So, you don’t argue when you nod to him. If anything, to keep the peace.

“I’ll see to it that you have it in your hands by tonight. And in time, I’ll invite you back to my quarters.” Ending his sentence with a bribe to keep you here felt fitting, and he’s thankful for the way you accept it.

You nod quicker now, entirely satisfied with his words when he steps back and away from you.

“Now, please finish cleaning your wounds. I don’t want to taste infection in you.”

Despite feeling better about it, wanting him still, those words hurt you. You feel insulted by the time he leaves you alone in the room. Like if you got an infection he’d simply lose interest in you, or perhaps end this love of your blood he has.

He may even just go ahead and kill you if that were to happen.

It drives you to clean yourself twice over. Three times over. Unwilling to lose the feeling of someone biting you so gently, unwilling to die because your use to him has run out. And it feels like you clean yourself all day. To the point you’re probably making yourself more susceptible to infection rather than protecting yourself from it.

And in this room, time doesn’t exist. There’s a window indicating where the sun is in the sky, but hours and minutes are meaningless. Only when the sun is up do you start counting, knowing that Sunghoon will only visit you during nightfall.

You clean yourself for what you assume to be hours upon hours, all the way up until the sun falls and you hear the door creak open. You expect to see Sunghoon coming in for his routine of drinking from you, but instead, you find a pale-eyed nun rush to you with your phone and immediately leave after.

A quick presence is gone within a moment, but you pay no mind as you look down at your phone. You’re thankful for the fact that it’s probably been on the charger all four days you’ve been gone. Considering, well, there’s no electricity this high up in the cathedral, you’ll have to save your battery as best as you can.

So many missed calls.

Even more missed texts.

Dozens of emails.

Jungwon.

In the morning after you left your apartment, he checked in with you. All throughout the day too. It wasn’t until that same night where his texts became frantic. A little, “i’m coming over, fuck you if you get mad at me for it.” followed by “are you mad at me? why won’t you respond?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Really though, it hurts your heart to have forgotten about him entirely during your time here. Reading through his texts, you see him fight with himself over your absence. Up until yesterday, where he texts you from the museum.

A glaring “stopped by again today only to realize your apartment was unlocked this whole time. i’m with your boss now, we are calling the cops if you don’t respond within the next ten seconds.”

A full day late, you respond quickly.

You: wonnie!!! i’m sorry! I got sad and went home to see my mom. totally ignored my phone…and forgot to lock the door i guess

You: you know, hormones lol

Immediate spam. Your phone vibrates aggressively back to back with his frantic texts.

Wonnie: you have to be fucking JOKING

Wonnie: NOT A SINGLE WORD FROM YOU. YOU COULD HAVE CALLED WORK OR

SOMETHING FROM SOMEONE ELSE’S PHONE. I WAS AT YOUR PLACE EVERY DAY.

Wonnie: i CANNOT believe you!!!!!!!!!!!

Wonnie: your whole ass apartment was unlocked and you weren’t there! anyone could’ve walked right in!!!!! are you stupid or something?

Wonnie: are you home now?

Wonnie: i’m so mad at you FUCK

Wonnie: i got so scared

Wonnie: im coming over

You panic.

You: wait, i’m not home yet. I didn’t mean to stay so long, I promise ill be home soon and fill you in on everything.

Wonnie: call your boss.

Wonnie: ill deal with the cops, then im gonna be waiting outside of your apartment

Wonnie: don’t ever fucking do that shit again, been crying all morning

Wonnie: i hate you so much right now, im never talking to you again

Wonnie: get your stupid ass back home

You smile fondly at his worry, but the smile is short lived as you know you probably can’t leave here. Not only from the fact that Sunghoon appears to be unwilling to let you leave but you…don’t want to.

Still, you do need to call your boss, and you make quick work of it. Sitting dissociated through the mindless scolding of your terrible lie of an excuse, and then the following call from the local police department.

Arguably, speaking to the police was easier than knowing you’ll have to lie to Jungwon again. At least the police are aware that you’re a grown woman who can disappear if she wishes. Jungwon, on the other hand, requires a little more care and consideration.

You’re tired by the time you lay your phone down, unable to keep your eyes open as you drift off.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Some time later, you wake to the same familiar scent of Sunghoon wafting from under your door. It doesn’t process yet in your brain that you’ve not smelled it since the night you wandered from your apartment. But now? Oh, it’s strong.

It’s very, very strong.

Your drowsy eyes look to the door as your legs carry you there, and out you go. Down the hallway, straight to those big doors, straight through those big doors.

The scent burns in your throat the moment you step inside, blurry eyes witnessing two figures right there on the floor. The only clear thing you can make out are his darkened narrowed eyes, only because your brain refuses to process the act taking place in front of you at first.

He looks…rabid. Hair is a mess, sticky and dripping with thick metallic liquid.

Oh, it sounds so loud. The squelching and the smacking of skin. Your stomach drops, the pit inside of it flourishing with nothing short of rotted desire.

Right there on the floor of his room lies a woman seemingly experiencing god. Sunghoon is moaning with his eye trained on your shocked figure. He ignores the woman’s aroused grasps against his arms to keep his eyes trained on you. And he just…smirks through it, licking his lips, rolling his eyes back only for them to fall right back to you.

The squelching rings in your ears as he moves faster, feverishly chasing a hunt he’s already got lying beneath him. Almost as if catching him in the act aroused him more than he already had been. Like he’s showing you how much more he’d prefer someone else over you.

He moans your name inwardly again and again, as if to call you forward to him but your feet can no longer move as you process the act with each call of your name.

He’s fucking her. He’s devouring her.

Not you. Her.

You can feel your heart shrivel at the act when you stumble back, a twisting pain in your chest that you feel silly over. You barely know Sunghoon, but somehow it feels like he’s given you more of himself than he has anyone else. He speaks that way to you, anyway. Always with the words of “I’ve never done this, until you.”

That was a lie. You’re seeing it now with your own two eyes and you’re paying for believing that you, somehow, could be special. And the pain in your chest travels all throughout your body at the fact that you let this man bite you. You let him take and take until you could barely stand, until you could barely think, until you were right on the cusp of death.

And you still want to do that for him. But now? He’s grown bored of you. Perhaps he intends to let this woman live too. Perhaps she’s silly enough to fall for a sweet vampire’s words too.

You stumble back more, forcing your legs to work with you rather than against you. It’s like your body has a mind of its own when he smells so welcoming. Cinnamon, spicy, sweet, painful cinnamon. Such a suffocating smell, easy to give in to and grow weak for. At least for you, that’s how it feels.

When you force yourself to turn around, only to continue stumbling down the hallway, your eyes work against you now too. You knew it would happen though and it’s not something you can stop. The burn and blur of tears prickling at the corners, your throat scratchy and sore.

You try to hold it in, feeling as if life is being suffocated out of you all the way down. Down, down, down. Past the nuns, past the beautiful and intricate interior, and straight out of the big front doors of the cathedral.

No goodbyes.

The breezy night air smacks you hard, forcing a sobbed breath out of you. You dry heave for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut so tight just to try and regain control of yourself and your emotions. The images behind your eyes flash back and forth. You’ve not just witnessed death, but the pleasure of death. Well, if he kills the woman, anyway.

And you still can’t fathom it. The way you feel, the way you’re reacting, the intense desire for death if it means Sunghoon wants you that badly. Never would you have guessed that a feeling so deeply terrifying exists. But it does, you’re witnessing it overtake the deepest parts of you right now.

Fuck, you didn’t want to leave but you did. And now here you are, freed from a grasp that you still want so badly.

Your lungs burn and your chest hurts more than the swollen puncture wounds all over your body. Everything is burning. It’s too, too, hot inside of your skin right now and there’s nothing more you’d rather do than to crawl out of it and freeze.

Still, you do your best to control the emotions within you. You take a short look around only to feel the head rush hit you now like it should have when you stood from your bed. Right, the blood in your body likely isn’t enough to keep you upright for long and you know you’ll likely not make it to your apartment in this state.

But you try. Your eyes are out of focus and your legs are clumsy as you try to walk. Down the sidewalk you go, until–

“Woah, little lady.”

You hear Balor’s voice echo in your ears. The sound of safety feeling so, so far away.

You can’t even thank him for it because your vision blurs more at the feeling of big, leather clad arms holding you upright, and then– you’re out.

You’re not sure how much time has passed by the time you’re able to hold your eyes open again, but when you do, Jungwon is here and so is that hot bartender you forgot existed. And as you try to comprehend where you are, you learn very quickly that you’re in the back room of the club with concerned eyes focused on..not your face, your body.

“Let’s get you home.” Jungwon’s concerned voice settles in your ears, and only now do you feel his warm hands soothing you against your shoulders.

“Or maybe a hospital?” Jay offers, also inspecting your skin and the weak state of your body as you try to sit up.

“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You say, immediately starting to cry out. “Please, just take me home.”

And so, home is where you go. Jay drives both you and Jungwon there with a kind voice and worried eyes. You see him make the attempt to hug you before leaving, but Jungwon is quick to stop him with a small shake of his head.

“Let me know when you’re feeling better.” Is all Jay says when he leaves, which, you’re sure he didn’t intend to leave but of course, Jungwon. You can see that he wants to be the one here with you and he insisted to Jay that he’s got you.

It heals your heart a little bit, but doesn’t change the fact that you’re embarrassed for not only Jungwon to be pulled into your mess, but Jay too?

You’re humiliated.

And by the time Jungwon has undressed and redressed you, ignoring the intense smell of alcohol against your skin for now, he’s immediately lying next to you, clinging to you really.

You’re aware of what he saw when he removed your clothes. You heard the breath he took in, you saw his confusion at how the clothes you had on were very much not from your closet. He’s going to ask, and you knew he would.

“You’re really cold.” He says in a cracked voice, gentle and sweet as he tries to warm you up. “You weren’t with your mom, were you?”

You weakly shake your head.

“You were with that guy you told me about before.” He says now, grabbing you tighter pretending he doesn’t know just how many wounds you have under your clothes. He can’t help but hold you tighter, even if it hurts you.

“What did he do to you?”

Your throat starts to burn as you cry again. You can barely process what’s happened yourself and explaining it to someone else only feels that much harder.

The pulsing in your head is too much, you can’t even think straight right now.

“It was–” You try to calm down, breathing in deep but avoiding eye contact. “It was consensual, don’t worry.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrow, staring at the deep bite marks on your neck. He’s quick to lift himself up, ripping your shirt up and off of you without so much as trying to be gentle. His panic is blatant and he’s entirely unable to hide how pissed off he is right now.

“No, it wasn't.” He dead-pans as he presents your own body to you, his voice coming out harsher than usual. “You’d be out of your fucking mind to think i believe that this was consensual.”

He glares at the swollen marks, unsure as to what to do with himself.

“Fuck,” He scoffs your name along with the curse, throwing his hands up. “Fucking look at them.”

You turn away from him now, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively in an attempt to not peer at what you wish you could have more of. You know what this looks like though, and you’re really trying to see things from his perspective.

But…It’s hard after everything you’ve witnessed yourself.

‘It was.” You say again. “I practically begged him to keep doing it.”

Jungwon falls silent as he counts. 1, 2, 3, 13, 25, 56, 72, still more.

“I wasn’t going to come home, you know.” You sigh out at the silence of his counting.

More silence.

“Was gonna stay and never leave.”

“What? Why?” He panics more at the admittance, dropping down over you and forcing your arms from yourself, trying to pretend he didn’t re-open some of your wounds by tearing your shirt off of you.

You can hear your best friend crying at the way you hide from him, all bloodied and bruised, but you keep your eyes closed even tighter. All he can do is lend you the entire weight of his body, enveloping you in all of his warmth and care, using his entire body to shield you from even the air in your room.

“What did he do?” Jungwon pleads for an answer with a cracked whisper. He needs context. Anything to explain the state of you right now.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“What did he do?” He presses again, voice only cracking more as he cries along with you.

“It’s more so what he didn’t do.”

Silence again.

“What did he fucking do?”

You take in a deep breath, sighing out against your best friend’s fluffy hair, humming at his warmth and how much you’ve missed it.

There’s nothing you can say to make him understand, all you can do is try because hearing him like this is, arguably, just making it more painful.

“I just really liked him, and I guess he didn’t like me so much in the end.”

Jungwon chooses to take that at face value, opting to not let you out of his sight from this moment forward if he can help it. At one point with you, he was worried about being too clingy. Truly, he was afraid he would annoy you by attaching himself. Never has he grown so close to a person so fast and never has he gained such comfort within someone else’s bubble like he does with you. The comfort is still there, but no longer does he give a single fuck about clinging too much. You clearly cling too.

If you cling enough to let a man abuse your body like that, you’ll be able to handle him clinging just as much, enough to care for you, and enough to not fucking leave your side. He’s not going anywhere, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

After all, he’s not stupid, but he’s willing to act as dumb as you need him to if it means you’ll let him keep you within arms reach. In his head, there’s no way you fell into something with someone who could do this to you without reason, and it appears it’s not a question he’ll get a clear answer from you any time soon.

It doesn’t matter if his installation will come to an end at some point. He can’t just leave you here when there’s some strange man running around biting the fuck out of people like a rabid dog. Abusing his best friend? No. He won’t have it and he doesn’t care if he has to force you to accept his protection.

He can’t do much for you, but he’s willing to at least be here with you.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jungwon soothes you, clinging tighter just to feel some of those reopened wounds bleed onto him. His voice is a stark reminder that there’s more to feel in your body than just pain. “I won’t let him near you again, okay?”

You nod, still crying as you cling back, trying to ignore the images in your head of Sunghoon.

“Okay.” You lie, missing him too much already, the faint scent of cinnamon still in your nose.

And you fall asleep like that. Warm.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hate calling it an “escape.” You carried yourself out of that beautiful cathedral against your body begging you to stay. Still, even now with Jungwon clinging so warmly at night, you wish you had never left.

Even the pain of seeing what Sunghoon does behind your back, the jealousy that came with it, you would have stayed if only to prove your worth to him. Being so close to death is exhilarating, and you find yourself feeling entirely empty and void of any emotion that brings joy because of it.

This isn’t depression, nor is it simple envy. This sadness within you sinks lower than you thought possible, so deeply rooted within you that you feel death itself couldn’t even allow a safe escape. After all, if vampires are real, who's to say you won't end up as a tormented ghost forever searching for a man who can never die?

Damned if you live, damned if you die, so to say. You can’t have Sunghoon either way, you can only have him while suffering.

And oh, how you miss the cold. You miss his cold. You miss the fear too. You miss the way he’d laugh with no breath against you and drink from your thighs like he needed more. You miss the way your wounds would pulse in pain and lend little reminders of the teeth that pierced them. Even now, they’re healing so well.

And it still hurts.

It hurts to know he said, while holding you, that he craves you. That he very much wants you but has things to tend to. The fact that he needed to tend to fucking other women while drenched in their blood? Things to tend to.

Because to Sunghoon, real life women, breathing women, are minimized to things to tend to.

Fucking vampires.

It’s been a week now since you left and it hasn’t gotten easier. During the week, Jungwon hasn’t so much as let you shower without the bathroom door open. You guess that’s fair.

Still, it has only been a week. A week of everything moving fast, a week of Jungwon, a week of slow and dreadful acceptance, and a week of smelling nothing but faint, ever so slight, cinnamon.

By now you know it’s him. Like he’s truly dug his claws into you and doesn’t intend to let you forget all that he took from you. Always that fucking smell, from the first night you met him until now. Yet he is nowhere to be seen, even when you stare at the cathedral after the sun goes down.

No one has left. No one has gone inside.

Part of you even found yourself worrying if he’s eaten. Hah. Funny.

Still, you’re forced to live in reality now. Nothing but healing wounds, meaningful days, and reminders that you let yourself fall as quickly and painfully as possible.

You’re entirely dissociated, as if you’re gliding rather than walking, as if each day passes in a second rather than a twenty four hour time span, as if you’re truly empty now and not filled with the blood you thought meant so much.

Somehow, you find comfort in the emptiness though. Jungwon fills the space as best he can too. He always accepts your rejections of going to update Jay at the club just to sit between your legs on the living room floor and try to make you laugh through silly faces riddled with concern.

You assume he’s in contact with Jay anyway, letting him know that you’re not quite dead yet.

The days blur together now, up until two weeks pass, three weeks, four, five weeks.

Thankfully, by the fifth week, it’s gotten easier. Each day you just have to remind yourself that you can never forget Jungwon again like you did before. He’s the one who helped you through this, and to think you’d ever make him go through this again is insane. In fact, he’s the reason you finally feel good inside again.

He’s like medicine, which is cringe and lame as fuck to say but it’s true. Internally, he’s made you feel better. Yet, right beside all those happy warm feelings lies everything else. Distress, sadness, anxiety.

They still seep out of you too. Every night, really, after the daytime wears off and Jungwon runs out of things to distract you with.

“Why do you have to look at me like that?” Jungwon says sweetly, sprawled out on your bed in his pajamas as he watches you pace around your room. “I swear, it’s like everything I say to you goes through one ear and out the other.”

You pause in your step, sad eyes reaching his face.

“I already told you I’m not going home.” He repeats himself for what feels like the thousandth time to you. “I’m still getting paid, I have enough to last me if you let me stay here before finding work.”

After all, it’s not like Jungwon has anything to go back home to. Save for an annoying sister who probably wanted him to move the fuck out of her space anyway. He’s the last person on this earth to be afraid to up and move out with a near stranger.

You’re not so much a stranger to him though, and the need to be by your side far outweighs anything else right now.

“Yeah, but, eventually.”

Never have you been one to worry about fleeting time. Never until you met that dead motherfucker. You worry about not what is happening, but what will happen. The inevitable. You no longer welcome it.

It’s not death that brings the anxiety though, it’s just…the clock.

With the ticking, the tocking, and the changing of seasons. Everything lasts both too long and not long enough. At this moment, the fear is Jungwon leaving at some point in your life. For any reason at all, really.

He’s been by your side since you found your way back to him. A nuisance at times, yes, but you’re attached. To an unhealthy degree, you are fucking attached to him at the hip. He’s your only grounding force on this earth and you think he’s picking up on it.

To the point he’s offered to drop his entire life an hour away just to stay for you.

Yes, Jungwon recognizes how toxic and unhealthy the friendship has become, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t just leave, nor does he want to. Even if he’s the one who leaves to get your mail, he’s the one who cooks, and he’s the one who holds you close at night, reminding you that time doesn’t have to mean a damn thing if you try hard enough to forget about the man who doesn’t experience it at all.

There’s no way you can get through a single day without him right now, and the thought of having to do it in the future scares you.

You know it’s pathetic. You know you have no right to keep him in a box next to you as a comfort, you know he’s still got a life to live and romance to find. But…you hate it.

“Eventually what?” He quirks a brow at you, having been concerned for you and the shift in your entire personality yet again tonight. You’ve changed for the worse, and it terrifies him to see you act so gone.

“You’re gonna leave me here alone.” Your voice is small, cracking when you say it only because you hear the words ring in your ears.

A pathetic whine, as if you’re speaking to someone else and not Jungwon. You’re not you anymore. No, you’ve become obsessed with the looping memories and feelings that took a mere four days to fall in love with.

Addicted to emptiness but begging for Jungwon to forever be the crutch you stand on.

You’re selfish and you have no fucking right to do this to him.

“Hey…” He rolls out of bed and steps up to you, easily putting a soothing hand against your shoulder. “Do you want me to stay?”

You nod. Knowing this same situation happens nearly every night. You panic, he soothes. You beg, he reminds you that he’s the one who offered in the first place. You ask him to stay, he confirms by asking you to let him.

And to him, he knows this is anything but a romantic partnership. You very much need someone here who is willing to play dumb but remain hyper aware. He wants to be this person for you because of his own selfish reasons too.

It’s not all for you.

For one, he wants the girl back that he met last month. Secondly, he wants to see you learn and grow, because he knows you have a long and beautiful life ahead of you (and he better be fucking part of it.) And lastly, he’s never felt needed like this and there’s something in him that craves to be important too.

It’s not too difficult for Jungwon to find people that’s important to him. Really, it never takes much. Perhaps someone held the door open for him, he’d probably jump in front of a bus for that person not two seconds later. But to feel just as important to someone else?

He needs to be here with you. As toxic as it may seem to outsiders, Jungwon sees nothing wrong with being the person you need simply because you’re the person he needs too.

“Then stop saying stupid shit.” He mopes now as he pulls you back to your bed and holds you much like he always does, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re always okay at work, but I swear the second we come home you’re falling apart.”

You freeze, falling apart instantly.

“I wish you’d tell me what happened.” He says now, jumping into the typical routine of calming and soothing you. “I don’t know what to do when you get like this.”

You wish you would tell him too.

But if he knew, that hope of ever seeing Sunghoon again would crumble. Already, Jungwon swears to you that he will never let this happen to you again. But you want it to, so, so badly.

Even if you’re taking advantage of his care by letting him treat you like a child who can’t escape a tantrum, he really flipped his whole life because you chose to live in a crisis.

You chose to do this to yourself and to Jungwon.

Finally, you look up at him with your fingers gripping him.

“I ask so much from you.” You sniffle when you say it, immediately calming yourself and feeling like a fucking idiot for doing this. “I feel like I’m going insane.”

He nods.

“You kind of are.” He confirms for you. “And you have to talk about it eventually, it’s just going to keep hurting if you don’t.”

He’s right. He’s always right.

And like always, every single time you imagine how you’ll tell him, nothing in your brain can form a sentence. But you do try and by now, accustomed to your pain, you feel like something needs to be said before he grows tired of you too.

“I don’t know why, but I wanted him to kill me so badly.”

Saying it out loud doesn’t feel as good as you wanted it to, not with the way Jungwon’s face immediately contorts into panic.

“Wha-”

“But he wouldn’t do it.” You shake your head, refusing eye contact. “He’d do it to everyone else, but not to me.”

“Wait, what?”

Maybe choosing to say that of all things was a mistake. After all, you did appear stumbling down the street near death already. Jungwon isn’t going to take what you’re saying lightly and you were stupid to believe otherwise.

“Have you ever smelled cinnamon?” You continue, trying to skew the conversation from his panic.

Jungwon is flipping his shit trying to make sense of your words. You wanted this guy to kill you? Well, he damn near fucking did and even now, while he’s not around, you’re practically dead already in terms of everything but breathing. And what the fuck do you mean he’d do it to everyone else?!

Are you referring to an emotional death? Trying to make this shit sound poetic? Or did you really want to die?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jungwon’s voice is stern but shaky. “Kill you how?”

You shake your head.

“I don’t know.” You offer, knowing you’re just making it worse. “I wanted him to want me that badly.”

Jungwon drops his arms from you to pull back, dead-pan staring at you because he doesn’t know what to do or say to that. He forces himself to think of the reality of the situation. You’re just being poetic. You’re just being dramatic.

He’s the same way when someone hurts him too, but still. Using such heavy words scares him, and he can’t just sit here and tell you it’ll be okay anymore.

“But he doesn't.” Jungwon musters up the courage to say it, knowing you’re going to cry. “This weirdo literally tried to eat you alive, and he still doesn’t want you.”

And you do cry again.

“And now, you’re letting him kill you anyway?” Jungwon scoffs. “You’re begging me to stay here with you, just so I can watch you not even make an attempt to fucking get over it?”

You know he’s telling you what you need to hear, doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want to hear it. The only thing you want to hear is Sunghoon and his lying words, telling you that Jungwon is full of shit.

The worst part about it is that, it’s not even that you’re suicidal. You’re not. You like being alive. You’re just…you don’t know. You don’t fucking know why you wanted and still want Sunghoon to kill you.

Perhaps it’s because it would mean he needs you that much.

But he doesn’t need you, you’re not irresistible.

And that hurts you. That man fucking slithered into your heart and made a nest there. You can’t get him out no matter how much you try.

“He broke up with you. You were together for like, what? A few days?” Jungwon minimizes the situation unintentionally, panicking at the way a person he’s grown so close to has managed to be utterly fucking ripped apart by a singular man. “He broke up with you. That’s it. It’s time to stand up and move on, there’s better people out there that–”

“No.” You shake your head. “I broke up with him, I guess, if you can call it that.”

Jungwon softens, tilting his head. Now he’s getting somewhere.

“Why, then? Why did you break up with him when you didn’t want to?” Still, Jungwon is glad you chose to. Clearly you’re not as absent minded as you pretend to be. Seeing how littered your body was with pain, you knew you needed to leave, right? You weren’t really just going to let this guy wither you away, right?

“He was with someone else.”

Jungwon shakes his head in pity.

“What a scumbag. A total freak.”

“But like, he needed to do it, I guess.” You try to explain without truly explaining. “I got mad and left because he was doing something he needed to do with someone that wasn’t me.”

“He needed to cheat on you? Are you hearing yourself?” Jungwon questions, throwing his arms up. “He’s a nympho, babe, he probably manipulated the fuck out of you to make you think this way.”

And at that, you give up on talking about it. You feel too tired to continue.

“I guess so.” You whisper out with a shrug, sniffling up the tears.

“He doesn’t deserve you. You can’t just…die for people.” Jungwon says, realizing that even he doesn’t follow his own advice. He’d probably die for you himself, but not because he craves it.

He’ll never understand why you wanted this man to “kill” you. In whatever way you meant, no one is worth owning that much of you.

Jungwon hums though, knowing you’re tired now. He isn’t exactly being as soothing as he’d like to be right now but never has he seen a person act like this over a break up. Cheating hurts, of course, but you barely knew this guy. There’s no way there isn’t something else going on for you to say such insane fucking things.

“You must’ve lost your damn mind to let someone do that to you.” Jungwon says against your hair, his soft voice not matching his words in the slightest. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Me either.” You admit, feeling the insanity bubbling in your stomach and hating it.

Still, the scent of cinnamon.

“Do you smell it though?” You ask now, voice even weaker.

Jungwon inhales deeply, releasing his breath with all of the frustration in his gut.

You feel it fan across your cheek warmly, minty, and you smile.

“Cinnamon?” He asks, remembering your question from before. “Yeah, sometimes I can smell it.”

You smile bigger now.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Another two weeks pass, only this time you are coming back to yourself. Which is strange, really. You were beginning to think you’d never feel like a person again after the first month passed. Then, within another few weeks you’re almost entirely back to yourself.

You’re still a bit dissociated, which is likely due to the trauma of what you experienced and put yourself through but thankfully, the ticking-time spans you grew to hate forces itself now to be your new form of comfort. With each passing second, hour, day, and week, you’re slowly able to not forget, but accept and move on.

Still, you know it’s going to fuck you up for years to come. You’ll always have the feeling of emptiness deep inside no matter how much the space shrinks. You have no choice now but to try and fill your life and time with things and people who matter to you. At least this way, you know that you matter too.

And with this time spent away and healing, the scent has faded too. You can even go to work now without holding your breath or your eyes being forced to look at the source of the smell. In fact, you avoid taking even a glimpse of the looming cathedral. You don’t keep cinnamon in your apartment now either. You don’t take it with any of your beverages or food items, and you certainly shouldn’t be smelling it in the air anymore.

Sometimes it’s still there though, turning your stomach in a way that’s both needy and sick. You still miss him and the feeling of ice, but you know better now. Why give up the ability to breathe without your throat burning? Why give up being a person that Jungwon actually wants to be around now?

After all, you’ve started feeling so much better to the point that even he feels okay leaving you alone from time to time. Showers are back to being private, you can check your own mail, and a few times you were even able to go to work without him trying to force his way inside like his installation was still sitting on display.

Which, it isn’t, by the way. Your boss had his name and face blacklisted, but still on most days he waltzed in like he owned the place. Every single time buckling the knees of your boss, every single time being allowed to stay.

Thankfully, push came to shove and he landed himself a job there with you, his employment became official just today, actually. And as professional as the place was for you when you approached with your resume, it’s definitely not professional at all. They did pay Jungwon under the table several times just for doing shit you were supposed to be doing.

The point is, even if Jungwon wasn’t able to make the effort to keep good on his word regarding moving into your apartment to stay beside you, he still likely would have pushed to at least work with you.

Thankfully, he gets to do both those things.

And despite the fact that he feels okay leaving you alone from time to time, there’s still an immense amount of anxiety about being away from you for too long. He knows that in time, it’ll pass and the two of you can live both near each other and apart, but for now? Might as well call him your husband because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna be doing his own thing without you.

That leads to now. The same day Jungwon secured his employment, the same day you made it through without a single breakdown, the same night Jungwon needs to actually go back home to move his shit into this apartment with you.

“Come with me.” Jungwon comments, but you know it’s more of a demand. “You can meet my sister, just ignore if she makes jokes about us dating or something.”

You laugh. Genuinely, you laugh.

“Jokes? We both know you’re in love with me Jungwon. I’m just waiting for the ring at this point.”

He laughs with a shrug, knowing he probably would marry you at this point, if just to protect you from all the people who wouldn’t care for you as much as he does.

“Really though, come with me?” He asks again. “I’m still a little worried about leaving you here.”

“You’ll be back in the morning,” You start, trying to calm him down. You genuinely do feel okay right now. “I’ll just be sleeping the whole time, I'm tired anyway.”

Jungwon nods fondly, aware that it’s only practical that he make the move during the night hours. After all, his sister won’t be home otherwise and he does miss her. It’s true that you’ll probably just go to bed and he’ll be back before you even wake up tomorrow.

Still.

“You could just sleep in my old ro–”

“Wonnie.” You walk up to him and grab his face with both hands. “I’m fine.”

He smiles at you, always loving the way you do your best to reassure him even through your worst breakdowns. You’re not breaking down right now though, and he can’t help but believe every word you say when you’re looking at him like this.

“I swear to god if I come home and you so much as have a single bite mark on you, I’m burning this fucking city to the ground.”

You roll your eyes, the memory stinging only a little bit. By now though, you’ve almost entirely forgotten how it felt in the first place.

In fact, you’re shocked by the way you acted after leaving. So outside of yourself. Truly, you think you were going insane and Jungwon was right to confirm that for you. You’re lucky you had him here with you, because you likely would have ran right back into that fucking cathedral and–

Yeah. You would have done something dramatic.

You didn’t though. And sure, you now know vampires exist or whatever but Sunghoon has not bothered you even once since you left. You hope he’s simply moved on so that your resolve doesn’t break. Jungwon worked so hard to make you feel better, and you worked just as hard. You can’t just feel bad that you don’t remember what Sunghoon’s fangs felt like against your skin.

If anything, you hope Sunghoon is freaked out by you leaving and knowing his secret. Maybe he thinks that if he tries to approach you again, you’ll tell everyone about what he is and what he did. Not that it would end with him in jail or anything. You’d probably end up in an asylum, actually, but still.

And to Jungwon’s threats of arson, you simply pinch his cheek, being sure to sit your thumb right in his dimple.

“Strictly no vampire kinks.” You smile at him, crossing both of your arms in front of yourself to create an X.

“Good.” Jungwon nods back as he puts on his shoes and heads for the door. “Call me if you need anything, I’ll keep my volume turned up. You’ve got Jay’s number too, he can be here quickly if it’s an emergency.”

He feels content knowing that you’re about to be stuck with him for as long as he can manage. It’s just one short trip back home. A mere six or seven hours spent away while he packs the shit his sister probably “forgot” to box up for him, loading up the rented van, and then unloading it here.

It’s just a short trip. You’ll be sleeping through it anyway.

And when he’s gone, you feel tired. Keeping good on your promise of going to bed almost immediately. The feeling of being alone for the night is a bit uncomfortable, so sleep comes easy as a means to escape the inevitable over-thinking you’d probably do otherwise.

No overthinking.

It’s just a short trip.

Jungwon will be back before you wake up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah, to think it’s over.

To think he’d leave you be? To think he wouldn’t be looming around every corner watching, waiting? If it weren’t for Jungwon, these weeks wouldn’t have passed so easily for you, that much is certain.

As if they were easy for you to get through at all. Jungwon, the very person who got you through it, was the reason he stayed away, the reason you were able to heal.

Jungwon was the ward.

Was.

Deep in your sleep it’s like your body knows. The same scent fills your nose just seconds after your sleep brain feels the goosebumps spread across your skin. Instantly, you wake up and back to insanity you go

You truly wake up.

Your legs aren’t being carried by any force other than you own, and your mind is crisp and clear in your thoughts as you jump out of bed.

Not walking, running to your apartment door. You swing open the door and don’t even look at him before slamming your entire weight against his chest and clinging like a lost child. You can feel the familiar cold fear filling your body, knowing that if he truly wanted to, he could kill you right now.

All of the progress you made burns away within seconds. You’ve never felt so elated to ruin your own life.

Even when he pushes you away, nothing at this moment could make you let him go. He’s here, he’s standing right there. Your fingers grip as he pushes you back in silence, stretching his garment out far beyond the bounds of which it was sewn to withstand. It rips, and still he shoves you further back from him all while stalking forward.

Walking you back into your apartment, just to let the door slam behind him as he stands with a narrowed gaze fixated on you.

You glance up at him only for a moment, loving the crazed look in his eye. Adoring that he must have missed you to appear so full of life like this. You can only compare his eyes now to the same eyes you saw when you ran away from him.

As if they were burning on you. Or perhaps, for you?

He’s dangerous, your body feels it instantly and all you can do is lean into it.

“That’s all it took for you to leave me?” Sunghoon bellows out in a spiteful voice, the sound sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “Had your blood boiling over some minx? I told you I didn’t want you witnessing it.”

You soak in his voice like it’s your last supper, missing it so badly, adoring it even more. He speaks as if weeks haven’t passed, as if it’s a mere hour after you ran from him. You move forward to cling again, unable to think of words to say and opting to show how much you regret leaving through your actions.

Still, he pushes you away from him. A bit harder this time, to the point you almost topple over onto your back. You keep your balance only because it feels like you’re fucking floating just looking at him right now.

“I tried to pull you back to me, why did you fight it so hard?” He continues to fuss, as if he’s been thinking over and over again about all the words he wants to spit at you. Like he’s punishing you, and yet still struggling himself not to cling back. “Never has your aroma been so empty, so faint.”

You’re in shock but your body yearns for him, thankful to go back to square one. Like you’re special. Like you meant something enough to him that he’s here looking like he may give you what you’ve wanted all along.

“Countless women. Countless men. Never you, and now you manage to hide from me?” His hand shoots to your neck, pushing you back further into your apartment. “How?” He grips dangerously tight as he continues to spew his breathless words. “You masked yourself with that– that floral boy, didn’t you?”

You listen to his spiteful words like your favorite song, falling into each vibration of his vowels and consonants. Never has he spoken so much, and never have you heard his voice waver the way it is now. You can’t help but follow his movements with a smile on your face, swallowing through this tight grip on your throat.

“You cannot fathom how hard it was to stop. Do you understand how much I want to fuck every last drop out of you? You should be thanking me.”

Oh, you’re so proud. So, so, fucking proud. The glee runs through you at his needy words, even if you know better. He’ll always feed on people who aren’t you, and he’ll always probably fuck them too.

But does he show up at their house? Does he grow frustrated with them like this too?

“Did you kill her when you were done?” You ask out through his choking hand, so confident that it makes him freeze on the spot.

He’s genuinely shocked that you’re not scared. You’re not intimidated. You don’t feel bad. No, you feel proud of being hunted. Like you take enjoyment out of his suffering, much like he does for you.

On his part, it’s not intentional. You have to suffer to be next to him.

Never has a person made him suffer too though. Fucking never would he have allowed it. God, he’s infatuated with you, utterly obsessed.

“Of course I killed her.” Sunghoon admits with his brow rising up, feeding into your ecstatic reaction of his death grip on you, only gripping tighter now. “Does that please you?”

You’ve never been happier.

And he moans out at the way you shyly nod, seemingly experiencing euphoria at his admittance of murder. Oh, if only you knew how good you smelled that night. Blood pumping for him, blood boiling in emotion for him. The woman didn’t last more than a minute after you left him. He couldn’t resist at that point.

Seeing you, smelling you, fucking someone who he wished could have been you.

He’s not prepared at all for this, for you. So willing, wanting what he’s trying to avoid doing to you.

That’s why he’s here though. Unprepared, but unable to resist any longer. He has pulled and pulled, every single day trying to lure you back to him against your will. He thought he was going to have to take you tonight against your wishes.

But your eyes are sparkling for him.

“No one’s heart has ever beat quite like yours when looking at me.” Sunghoon whispers now, falling and spiraling into this moment with you, losing his composure entirely. “So loud, each pump fucking gushes.”

“And I'll chase it every time.” He continues to ramble in a way that sounds like he’s in physical pain, like the amount of time you’ve stayed away from him genuinely hurts him.

You still can’t respond though, your words are caught up in your throat right where his hand squeezes and you couldn’t even if you wanted to. He knows it too, and he didn’t intend to let you answer anyway because genuinely, he’s fucking losing himself.

His hungry lips chase forward near instant after saying those words to you, not biting, just kissing. Tasting you rather than the blood that drives him.

Because for some reason, that’s what he craves right now.

“I beg.” He cries out against your tongue, relishing in the feeling of your life clutched in his hands, not even sure himself of what he’s begging for.

“Sunghoon,” You choke out his name with a gentle voice, pulling back from his bruising lips and throwing your arms up around his shoulders. “I bet you could smell my heart shatter too.”

He moans at the strained words first and the out of body experience you lend to him second. His soul is always trapped within this dead skin, but you ascend him.

Here, standing with his hands on your throat, you hold him? You say sly, mocking words? Oh, he can give you the world. He can give you anything you want. He can be whatever you want. Never has a person had this hold on him, and never could another person be able to do what you do.

He can’t just let you go. He tried already. He’s supposed to be the one with the ability to hunt, lure, and pull. How is it that you do it to him? Your blood alone does it. The fact that all you need to do is exist within the same city and he’s ripping his bedroom walls apart wanting to get at you? He needs you.

No. You’re not going anywhere this time. He’ll give up the taste of your sweet blood if he has to. The taste of your wet tongue is enough to satiate him by this point. The feeling of your neck beneath his hands, your pretty eyes urging him to strangle the life out of you.

He’d do it too. All you’d have to do is ask. He would do anything for you at this moment, no matter the cost. He will take anything you offer.

“Oh–” He groans first, licking his lips. “I could almost taste it.” His eyes darken more, somehow, as he leads you through the apartment. All the way until that same gaze causes your legs to buckle. He can’t help it by this point, after all, he knew coming here would end up this way.

There’s no self control when his hands release your neck, your buckled legs forcing you to fall against the floor, and he gladly topples with you. His hands immediately shoot to either side of your head, holding himself up just so he can dip down and inhale you.

Fuck, he missed the way your skin smells more than he remembers. And trust, missing you was a daunting experience for him before he got here.

He inhales all over you, again and again. He trails his nose against both sides of your neck, up your cheek, into your hair, down to your neck again.

“So delicious.” He moans mindlessly. “Never have I missed someone so terribly.”

“You were with someone else.” You continue your confident scolding with a scoff, only because of the way he’s losing himself on you. This is all you could ever want and reminding him of why you left feels elating.

“My love,” He starts, speaking right up against your ear as one of his hands trails from your cheek to your waist. “My loyalty to your life is what I offered.”

Goddamn the confidence running through you smells stronger than anything he’s ever experienced. As if you didn’t already drive him to do things he never once considered. Oh, now? With you like this? He would die ten times more for you and you alone, if he could, anyway.

“Do you not recognize that I would have drained you to death, if I didn’t want you here with me?”

He lifts his head now, looking at you with so much adoration.

“You’re not a simple meal, when will you understand that?”

And when you snicker at his desperate praise, he cannot fucking control the feelings within him.

“Your little floral friend is going to be devastated,” He admits with a rumbled voice, alluding to the inevitability of him coming here tonight. “You’ve begged me for this, and now I’m begging you.”

You pause, feeling the butterflies in your stomach release in a deep breath.

“Die for me.” Sunghoon whispers, dragging that same wandering hand straight between your legs and dipping into the wet heat he’s been missing so badly. No blood, just thick, hot, wet slick. “I beg.”

You can barely comprehend his words through that ice cold feeling of his fingers pressing into you. He hums in the silence, looking straight into your eyes with the question. He’s very aware of the weight behind it too.

“My love, please.” He continues, losing composure by the seconds as he feels how warm your wet walls are hugging his fingers. “Not in a thousand years have I wanted someone more than you.”

He continues pressing his fingers in, moaning himself at how good it feels, only to feel your moan fan against his cheeks in turn. It’s something that drives him only further from the self-control he fought so hard to keep. That warm breath represents the life within you that he intends to snuff out. If at all, to keep you forever.

“And not for a thousand years more–” He’s starting to babble, his once clear thoughts racing at being surrounded by everything that is you. “Please.”

And his fingers only quicken with his thoughts, rendering you unable to answer even if you tried. The idea and confirmation in his head of not truly killing you drives him wild. It would be death, nonetheless, but not true death. For weeks he has suffered over the thoughts, always telling himself that he would never fate someone to a death such as his own.

But you, oh you. The sublime blood within you pulled him harder than he believes he pulled you. Never in his thousands of years has he experienced such a thing, nor did he know such blood existed within a person. It drives him to feel for you. To adore you. To be entirely enamored with the fact that you have shattered him from within at both the thought of losing your blood, but wanting to take all of it.

Still, he craves the taste of you to such an extent that you truly will die tonight, whether it’s against your will or not. It’s too late for him to reason with himself, feeling your walls wrapped around his fingers, seeing you act so mischievous towards his antics from before. At this point, just a blink of time compared to how long he’s lived, the decision is clearer than anything he thinks he’s ever had to choose.

If he can’t have all of your blood, you’ll waste it on a death not nearly as beautiful as he can offer.

If he can have all of your blood, perhaps he doesn’t have to lose you along with it. After all, it’s not just the blood at this point that makes him feel like a blood-drunk beast. No, no, no. It’s everything that is you. Your skin, the secretions of your body, the way your hands grip and the way your eyes blink. Blood-drunk, yes, but more so just drunk on you.

He can settle without the breath and without the blood if you’re willing to share meals with him for the remainder of time this earth has in the universe.

Sunghoon’s mind is racing at the thought. Working too fast for him to focus on everything at once, but he tries. Tucking his fingers deep, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaling as deeply as he can.

You’re feeling like you’re on top of the world in the way he falls apart on you, unable to comprehend that this is actually happening. Every word he’s said to you rings in your ears as if it were spoken in a language you can’t understand. With his fingers working you open, with his lips on your skin rather than his fangs…

You feel…different. Like he feels differently.

And you can’t stop yourself from basking in the thought that he killed that woman. What was once jealousy that he didn’t want you enough to kill you has twisted and morphed into the thought that he kept you alive because he couldn’t stand not having you.

Every whispered word confirms it, and still you can’t comprehend fully what it is he’s trying to say.

So, you focus and try to comprehend the feeling in your body that he’s offering instead. You have yearned for this cold within you. Missed it so badly you went insane.

To think you’d ever truly get over him is arguably more insane than wanting him to kill you at all.

“Did you hear me?” He whispers against your ear, shoulders shifting with each plunge of his fingers, other hand clinging to your waist so tightly, almost pulling you to him. “You could be beside me,” He moves his lips across your neck, resting his lips against the moan you let out. “Forever.”

Oh, it clicks.

And just as it clicks, he can hear your heart rate gushing the same blood he intends to take from you in full. Gushing, rushing through each vein and valve within you. Oh, he could truly devour you whole with how you’ve deprived him of this. He could leave not a trace of you left for the world to remember, but no. That would be worse than the beheadings that haunt his nightly visions.

The sound of it rushing through you, god, it makes him feel like a mad man. He can’t help but prevent your timid answers in the midst of red hot desire. He pulls his hand out of you, spreading his palm against your healed thighs instead and spreads your legs out wide from under him.

He’s quick to move down. No kissing, no biting, nothing like what he wants to do. He needs to satiate his desire somehow, and he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of your blood until the time comes.

And when he pulls your sleep-shorts and panties off of you, he’s immediately licking a languid stripe up your glistening cunt. He remembers how it looked in red, the thought sending his body into overdrive at the taste of you now compared to that night.

Still so sweet. Almost as good as the blood. Ah, it serves as a reminder that perhaps he can give up the blood after taking it from you. This alone is enough. So creamy, so slippery.

Yes, yes. A confirmation. It’s you, not just your blood. It’s you he won’t live without. Your mind, your voice, the wet you spill, the cum you’ll let him fuck out of you.

It’s always you.

And he hums into it, licking into you as far as his tongue can manage. He braces both hands on your thighs just to spread them further, skewing his head to reach deeper, deeper, fucking deeper. Tasting you, smelling you, utterly obsessed with you.

All you can do is shoot your hands down, forever waiting to feel his teeth sink into you but only feeling pleasure. So much pleasure. All of his freezing body parts just send consistent shivers up and down your spine. It’s like you can feel him under your skin when he does this, even with his hair tangled in your fingers as if you’re appreciating him for all of it.

It’s so good. With the way he doesn’t need to breathe. He keeps his tongue in you, and even still you feel as if you don’t need your clit stimulated at all with the way he’s working his mouth so aggressively. And it’s good with the way his fingernails dig into your skin not yet enough to cause blood, unlike before. Good with the way he hums into you through it all, the same way he did when he’d feed on you.

Ah, it’s just, it’s good. It’s dreamy. All of it feels like a fantasy up until he does pull back.

You look down in time with him looking up, those pretty eyes no longer looming and dark. Still crazed to an extent but you know they’re for you.

“Sunghoon,” You whisper out, watching him closely with the way his eyes roll back at even hearing his name on your tongue so prettily. “Why aren’t you feeding?”

You feel his fingernails leave more half moon shapes in your skin at the question. His eyes open in a half-lidded stare at you now, lips falling slack.

He looks so pretty, with the wet coating of his plush and pretty lips, your hands still tangled in his hair.

He still just looks at you. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink, and doesn’t answer.

“You’re so quiet now.” You comment, feeling shy with the way he stares at you rather than your open pussy right in front of his mouth. “Say something.”

And within a single blink, his face is right up against yours, one hand still keeping your leg spread open, the other pinching your chin as he continues to stare.

“Let me have you.”

You hear his words clearly this time, breath caught in your throat up until he kisses it out of you. He breathes you in deeply, trying to drown himself in all that is your life before what he will inevitably do.

“Let me.” He pleads again, his eyebrows falling as if he’s in genuine pain to say it.

Your arms reach around his neck, staring at him with so much confirmation in your eyes. You’d let him have anything he wants. Anything.

And he groans at you, releasing your chin just to reach down to get his length out, appearing as though looking at you like this alone is enough to make him crumble to dust. He’s been aching this whole time too, since before he even left the cathedral. Borderline edging himself from both the pleasure of your body wrapped around him and the pleasure within you that would satiate his hunger just for a moment.

He misses the feeling of you so badly. The warmth, the slide, the way you cling to him like nothing he could do would scare you.

Just….one last time, he wants to feel warm.

And he chases for the heat inside of you, sliding in without breaking eye contact, without waiting, without savoring it.

It knocks the breath out of you again, forgetting just how cold it is when he settles in deep. So fucking deep.

You wince in pain before moaning out to him, whispering his name in a drawn out sigh.

“Ah, my love,” He groans at your reaction, his hips immediately moving. “My pretty, pretty, love.” Your walls hug him so perfectly, taking every inch with just a tiny wince. “Will you still sound so lovely?”

You don’t understand the question, but you nod to him, wanting nothing more in this moment than to prove your worth to him. To please him.

Such an insane woman, he thinks. Letting him take you and have you in whatever way he wishes. Whether living or dead, he truly believes every mindless nod you give to him. It’s clear, you’re just as deeply infatuated with him as he is with you.

Both of you would give and take happily, no matter what it is.

And fuck he can feel your living pulse against him with each fast and torturous thrust, snapping his hips so quickly into you. He can’t help but fuck hard and with purpose. Slamming in and out with echoed slaps and mindless groans.

Everything that you are could end him in an instant and all you can do is moan out for more.

Oh, he gives it. Of course he does. He will give you anything. Everything.

And it only becomes harder to resist when he kisses against your lips again, swallowing each moan of his name, exhaling it back out to you with the sound of your name. A mantra of two people, facing only death together and loving every heart-wrenching second of it.

The cold within you flourishes with each sound in his throat, you squeeze around him, your legs hug against him, your arms wrap tightly against his neck as he kisses you. Your body can’t withstand the speed of his cock slamming into you for much longer without coming undone.

And he doesn’t stop, seemingly never growing tired. Up until he feels your body clench entirely around him, he clings back at you at the feeling, whispering handsome words and proud promises.

“Already?” He grunted out first, hearing your blood rush and your muscles tense. “Ah, can hear it rushing through you, let it go, love.”

And you do, you let it go despite wanting it to last longer. So, so much longer.

He lends you a choked and inward groan at the way you react to his relentless thrusts, flexing his abs and pointing his cock as deeply into you as he can reach. And for the second time, Sunghoon feels the warmth of you spill over him. Prettier than the blood, your voice so, so, sexy choking out a string of curses just for his ears to adore.

“There you go.” He coos through it with his own groans, savoring every squeeze and squelch, adoring the sounds you make for him.

And as he watches, he can’t help the feeling inside of him. Your heart is beating so fast through the pleasure only he can offer you, and he keeps doing it. Fucking you through the orgasm only to not stop after the fact either.

It’ll be the last time he’ll ever feel heat like this on him. He can fuck any and every victim, but none will feel as good as you. Partially because you aren’t being manipulated, he has no hold on your mind right now. You’re not gripping and moaning because you’re in a daze, you’re doing it because you fucking want it.

God, having sex for the sake of sex is something he hasn’t done in a long time before you. Enjoying in the pleasure, fucking suffering through all of it. Truly, for him, if this is the last time your body will be warm, he’s going to take his goddamn time making sure you’re well aware of just how good you could have it if you let him keep you forever. Cold and dead, he’ll still love the feeling of your body.

So much that still, even with your orgasm dripping all over him, he pushes and he pushes. Thinking only of how he plans to drain you in more ways than once tonight. He can hold off for as long as he can with his own pleasure, because this alone is fucking bliss.

And he doesn’t care if he’s knocking the breath out of you, only because he knows that soon enough, you’ll never have to worry about breathing again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re unsure as to how long Sunghoon has been lying with you like this, but you were able to get a bit of rest against him. Even with your fingers feeling like ice wrapped up in his, you feel safe and at home here.

Not because you are at home, but because he’s here with you.

The night outside your window tells you that you’ve not been sleeping for long, but you can barely recall coming to your bedroom at all with him. He must have carried you here and cuddled himself up against you.

You stir in his grasp, peeking an eye up at him.

“You’ve rested enough?” Sunghoon smiles at you with saddened eyes, his pupils still blown and hair an absolute mess.

You shift against him, turning to face him entirely.

As he looks at you, all he can do is remind himself that he’s never considered fating someone with this curse until finding you. With your pretty jealous words and your intense need to have him take you out of this world all together. Never has he given the chance for another person to know him so deeply and have them react with only fondness and desire.

This is his chance, isn’t it? To find forever?

As monstrous as he is, he does still have desire. The feeling of loneliness isn’t meant to be grown accustomed to. For him at least. All of his fellow vampires have companions, and he swore he’d never do that to another person.

Perhaps it’s because many of the vampires he has mingled with took their companions by force. He could see the disdain in their eyes, and that’s not something he thinks he could live with. But you don’t look at him like that. You slept soundly next to a man wanting to kill you. Actively struggling not to do it with each and every breath you take.

And oh, since the start of his curse, the need to taste that last famed drop lured him to every meal he’s feasted on up until now. Such a delicious flavor, truly the best sensation running down his throat. To have you offer that last little sip to him? Ah, fuck.

The feeling in his stomach flutters at the thought of turning someone for the first time. Knowing that someone will be you. Knowing that you wouldn’t be a companion filled with resentment and agony at your new life.

It’s electrifying. Like his heart could beat again at any second because you truly make him feel like he’s never experienced death at all. Despite being surrounded by it, despite experiencing it himself, despite taking lives daily for thousands of years.

It’s amazing to him, to love someone so much he’s willing to fate them with eternal thirst, congealed blood, glitter and gold, beautiful and ugly, accidental lures before intentional ones.

Death.

Vile, cold, damp skin. Safe light of the moon, dust in the sun. The only threat is that of life itself.

Light. Sharp pointed dogwood stakes. Beheadings.

But…a companion.

The life he could live with you, oh the joy that runs through him is far too beautiful. The forever life. Eternity. Living through it all, far surpassing the roaches and bacteria of this earth. With you.

So many things you’ve forced him to understand. Loneliness, despair, want, need, envy. It’s been so long since he’s entertained petty mortal feelings, but you forced them into him and out of him. The only need he’s grown accustomed to was hunger and thirst. Never love, or warmth, or want.

Oh, forever. The two of you could starve after draining every living soul. All it takes is for him to take that last gush of blood from you.

Without the lure. Without the manipulation.

Never would he perform the rite without your pleasant voice telling him to. Never would he want to spend eternity with a woman so luring who would want nothing more than to be the blade slicing through the bone in his neck.

That legendary, utterly delicious, last drop of blood that he’s tasted so many times before. It’s different this time only because the blood isn’t for him and him alone now. He has to share it, and it pains him to know that none would taste quite like yours.

The hardest part would be controlling his instinct of swallowing it instantly, rendering you dead and unmoving for the eternity he wishes to have you.

A new feeling.

Anxiety.

Your death would be slow, a cold and dreary one, but it wouldn’t be lonely. He’d make sure you feel so good through it. He wouldn’t spill a drop. You’d be clean, avoiding a gruesome death otherwise.

And time would be against him, because upon taking that last drop, he’d barely be able to savor it before continuing the rite. A final sip that he can’t even swallow. A final sip that must be fed to you. Blood leaving your veins only to slide down into your emptied stomach through dead lips.

There, a final exhale, and then forever inhales.

You’d look so beautiful dying next to him. He’d hold you through it.

Is fate so dreary in a moment like that? Where is he feeling something akin to love for the first time in lifetime after lifetime? Is he selfish to need you so badly?

“You could have it all.” He inhales the words at your drowsy face nearing sleep again. The silence you lended after his last comment kept him in his head, and now he wants out of it.

He hugs against you so tightly, trying to keep you awake despite knowing he likely fucked you too long and too hard. Still, he wants to encourage a life with him for you.

“I can give it all to you.”

You’re silent at his words as you listen to him. You soak them into your sleepy head and smile.

“Sunghoo-”

“I beg of you.” He answers for you, grabbing your face tightly and landing an immediate kiss against your lips. A deep kiss, one that…oh. He’s crying.

You feel the cold wet hit your cheeks as he kisses. He does it before you can even move your own lips against him, but you do start to kiss him back. Your brows furrow in concern at this new emotion he’s showing to you, but your handles are gentle when you caress his cheeks through it.

“Die for me.” He whispers through the kiss, trying not to let you pull back at the words. He knows now that you heard them loud and clear.

Oh.

Why is there nothing in this world that you want more?

“It’ll only hurt for a little while.” He tries to make it sound pretty with his soothing whispers, not yet realizing that he hasn’t cried in several centuries. “You’ll come back.”

“Are you asking me to–?” You breathe out for him, once, twice, and then never finish what you were trying to ask simply because he makes himself very clear.

“You can be like me, my love.”

Your body pulses in fear, but the adrenaline hits you in all the right spots as you break eye contact to cling instead, this time shoving your nose up and against his neck. Wanting nothing more than this dead skin, needing nothing more than a man who wants to kill you.

But Sunghoon doesn’t want to end you, no. He wants to keep you forever.

And forever is different with Sunghoon. It’s never ending.

Are you even prepared to never see an end? With the man whispering so sweetly to you? Absolutely.

Would a split second decision like this ruin your life forever? What's forever anyway? When you have many lives to ruin and many more to deem a success if you choose to go with him.

Die. Only to live forever?

You nod once, then you shake your head. His arms wrap around you tightly at your indecisiveness. He’s content enough just knowing you’re considering it and truly, he’s trying to be patient. Waiting and well aware that the question is likely the hardest decision you’ll ever need to make.

“I’ll beg again and again.” He whispers, feeling your panicked lips try to calm your breathing against his neck. Still, you’re clinging to him tightly and it makes him feel…happy. “I cannot fathom a death for you that’s not this. Forever gone from me.”

You shake your head again, but then…you nod.

“Will it hurt?” You ask, feeling your heart rate threaten to kill you before Sunghoon even gets the chance himself.

“Tremendously.” He chuckles at the ignorance, though even he barely remembers the pain himself these days.

“Only for a little while, darling. I told you.” He licks his lips, anticipating the blood running through you to run through him soon. The hunger is almost overcoming him now and if you don’t agree, he very well may end up killing you regardless.

And the thought pains him.

If there was ever a time to hold himself back, it’s now.

“Don’t die without me here with you. Now or ever.” He continues in a sweet voice, trying to control the wavering breaks his throat is trying to force out of him.

“Can I…” You stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can I have a minute to think?”

“Oh course,” He smiles to hide his frustration, pulling you back by your shoulders and sitting himself up against your bed. “But, the sun rises in three hours, and that’s three hours of fighting my urge to do it without your confirmation.”

You pause, finding comfort in the fact that he’s willing to suffer through your inevitable acceptance. There’s no way you’ll end up saying no to him, only because of how badly it hurt when you walked away from him. It rotted within you for weeks, and even when you thought you were better…all he had to do was stand outside your door to have you running to be in his arms.

What’s a bad decision when you could have lifetimes to make up for it? Even if said decision is what gives you those lifetimes. He’s asking for you to stay with him. To be with him. Isn’t that what you want?

But to die…

And you only cling to him through the fear, hoping he can save you from what he’s offering. He’s the comfort and the ultimate end.

Or, perhaps, the ultimate beginning.

You’re not sure. You only found out vampires are real like two months ago. It’s not exactly something you can comprehend so quickly, but it is something you know you want more than anything if it means you can be next to Sunghoon.

“Will it ease your fear if I talk about what it’s like to be me?” Sunghoon offers both a reason to give you insight, as well as distract his own mind during this moment of distress.

You nod immediately, hugging yourself so tightly to his side and trying to keep your nose up and against him simply because that brings you the most comfort. Smelling the faint cinnamon, feeling him against you.

“I’m the first of my family to reside here, but I’ve been here for thirty years. Commoners aren’t aware as I try to remain hidden save for when I need to hunt.” He starts, continuing after hearing the way your heart calms. “But, city officials know very well who I am, and where I come from.”

You listen, trying to take in his words as truth rather than fantasy.

“I was born in seventeen thirty eight, overseas. Every few hundred years I’ll relocate simply because it becomes boring watching the same country grow and be destroyed. I ran from many wars, have lived many lives.”

Oh. Okay.

“I know every language. I’ve lived every life you can imagine, worked every job you can think of to rid myself of boredom.”

“So you weren’t always pretending to be a priest?” You try to make light of the fear within you, almost, somehow, wanting to snort at his choice of current lifestyle.

“Ah, no.” He chuckles for you, rolling his eyes at how you mock him in the face of your own death. “I was a banker before this, I despised it. Only lasted about seven years before relocating here.”

A pause, you hear him chuckle.

“I really despise numbers.”

In the calmness of his voice, within his gentle grasp, you feel comfortable.

“Did you come for the cathedral?”

He nods, holding you against him even tighter.

“History is protected, whether it be land, buildings, or people. It felt fitting to be a priest if I was to stumble inside parading as a drunken man needing a place to stay.”

“How did you become, uh, what did she call you? Master?”

“Ah,” Another scoffed chuckle at your ignorance. “Did you believe them to be alive?”

You freeze, body stiffening at the shock. They were fucking dead?! This whole time?!

“I slept in a cathedral full of fucking vampires?!”

“You did.” He smiles. “But they are very well aware of what’s mine.”

He loves the way your face looks when you process words. He is more aware than you think of how insane all of this must sound to you. Yet, still, he has never truly lied to you.

“They needed an order, so I brought that order. Thus, Master.” He smiles as he motions towards himself with you still in his grasp, as if he’s playfully boasting his own intelligence over the vampire-nuns.

You pull back to look at him, feeling a bit calmer now in the way he describes countless lives and knowledge. You can’t experience any of that with the life you have right now. In fifty to sixty years you’ll be in an urn on your mother’s fireplace.

Why would you want that when you could be in a bed with silk sheets? Or perhaps by then you’ll be able to travel elsewhere with Sunghoon, finding new beds with even softer sheets.

And only now do you realize that Sunghoon didn’t put you in danger at all. In fact, he knew he was dangerous and forced you to live. Even when you asked him to kill you. He…

Oh. Wow.

“Now, what is it, you think, that made you so special in regards to that woman you found me with? What is it, love? What do you believe kept me from ending your life to sustain my own?” And goddamn does it feel good to finally say it. Sunghoon loves the feeling of the words coming out of his mouth, finally spilling it all to you and seeing you only react with cheeky curiosity.

“Why is that? Can you tell me?”

You’re silent as you think of his questions, unable to answer at all.

“No…” You breathe out, knowing he can feel the hot breath against him only because his hand squeezes your waist.

“I suppose after how long I’ve wandered this earth, even I am left with curiosities and questions too.” He smiles when he says it, thankful to know he hasn’t yet experienced everything there is. “I’d like to know why you have this hold on me too, darling.”

“Maybe it’s because I want it?”

“Perhaps, yes. If you didn’t I likely would have savored every ounce of you already and for that, I should be thankful.”

He shifts now, pressing you down against your bed and hovering over you with dark and sparkling eyes. His lips immediately go to your neck with the hunger he feels. Talking isn’t enough anymore. Holding you isn’t enough. He hasn’t eaten in days, and the fact that he could hold off even until now is strange to him.

“Unlike many, you do not seek death–” He drags his lips against your skin, relishing in it. “You exist alongside it happily, you welcome it.” He continues to talk, his teeth now retracting against your skin and leaving little swollen scratches with each drag. “Perhaps had I not chosen to be a priest during this lifetime, you’d have already said yes.”

“A singer? A dancer? Anything you wish for, I’ll become.” He smiles when he feels the goosebumps plump up under his teeth, and it’s so, so, hard not to bite. “So, won’t you stay? “

He listens so closely to your heart and breathing, nearly moaning at the need for it.

“Watching you wither to death by anything other than my own teeth would surely have me seekinga dogwood.”

Ah, so the fantasy movies and novels aren’t all wrong? So strange, truly, that he lives in a cathedral of crosses made from the very wood that could kill him.

“We could be anything, go anywhere, dine on meals you merely taste but never need.”

He nods his head against your skin, hoping you’ll nod along with him, knowing that you will.

“You could be mine, forever.”

You’ve accepted him already, you just haven’t said so yet. He doesn’t mind sweet talking you though, reminding you of everything he can and will provide.

And to you, every single word he mutters is pretty, and everything you could ever need or want is right here.

“I could be yours, forever.”

“I think–” You breathe out, hands now reaching up to scratch through his hair. “there is nothing I could want more than this.”

And the moment he gets that final word of confirmation out to you, he bites. The words you mutter drive him to it. He couldn’t even kiss you in appreciation simply because his instinct takes over. He lets go.

Finally, he can let go.

The need to control himself is no longer here, and it feels astounding.

The sting is deep and it rings within you so loudly that you could hear the puncture vibrate your brain. Your ears burn at the direct puncture, and already you can feel his hands bracing you through it. As if he knows he’s never bitten you so deep in your pulse point like this.

But the intention behind it somehow feels better than anything you’ve ever experienced. This is what you were jealous of and now you can only agree with your past self. There was good reason to be jealous of feeling this from him. Except, unlike that woman, he’s holding you through it. He’s grunting against your neck and swallowing large portions of your blood as the seconds pass. Losing himself with you. Almost as if he’s dying with you.

And he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, to the point your toes are feeling the sleep overtake them, then your legs, all the way up and down your body until your fingers are too weak to keep gripping against the locks of hair on the back of his neck.

You feel his fingers soothe you through the weakness when he pulls back, keeping his promise of not wasting a single drop. There is no blood smeared on him, only a trace of it on his inner lips as he watches your weakened expressions.

He isn’t intentionally draining you so quickly, but…fuck. The blood. That glorious scent and taste was already too much to bear, but now? Knowing he gets all of it save for the best and final sip? He genuinely can’t help it. Controlling himself now after how long he’s held back?

Darling, you asked for this.

And his body reacts in aroused euphoria. Already he feels an orgasm bubble up just witnessing you die for him. Even then, he barely feels the heightened pleasure because the mind, dead or not, simply cannot comprehend the pure potent pleasure he’s experiencing.

He spills out all over himself, while you spill out for him. Your life, your very being.

How can he not be terribly, horrifyingly, utterly stupendously in love with you?

“My love, the light in your eyes will come back soon.” He smiles as he watches what happens to you through this, and then throws his head back in manic pleasure with a deep and animalistic moan. Arguably, even his eyes hold more life than yours right now.

So, so beautiful.

You’re too weak to speak, but you shake your head. Nothing is a pain to lose, nothing except him.

And you find comfort in the way he sinks his teeth right back into those puncture marks. Sucking more and more out of you with a content smile on his face. He doesn’t think he could ever feel happier, knowing you’re giving him everything, and he wants nothing more than to return the favor to you.

Oh, how he wishes it were you sucking the life out of his veins. You’d be so gentle, you’d look so pretty losing your mind like he is right now.

You continue to feel your body grow numb, up to the point that your heart rate slows at the loss of blood. To the point you can tell he’s sucking harder and harder just to get more. You feel a weight shift inside of your body, it writhes and chokes every inch of your innards.

Shrivelling, spiraling, cramping.

If you could curl in on yourself right now, you would, but you’re too weak even for that. You can’t even twitch a finger against Sunghoon at this moment as you feel everything within you dehydrate and search for life.

It hurts.

Badly. So badly that at this moment, you can’t remember a single thing that has ever felt good. In fact, everything is painful. Life is painful and horrifyingly full of things that will hurt you. But–Sunghoon is here. That much, you still recognize. Even through the pain, and even through the twisting inside of you, he remains constant. He’s soothing you through it well past the comprehension of your dying brain.

You can’t shiver at the loss of warmth, but you do try to take a breath. Working your weak body to near exhaustion just at the act of trying to expand your lungs. And oh, you can’t even open your eyes at the way the last breath doesn’t come. You must have lost it already.

And then, darkness.

Nothing.

And it feels like this for an eternity. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to fear or love.

Absolutely fucking nothing. And to think humanity has built governments off promised afterlifes? To think anything ever mattered in the first place? The emptiness soothes and relieves your still working soul, wisping in the darkness for eternities more it seems.

To the point names and faces leave you, and all you can think, feel, or hear is that of unfilled space and pure, deafening, silence. You cannot feel content, or peace, or happiness here. You just feel nothing. And it truly feels good to be nothing.

Until there's warmth. You feel it somewhere hugging you, or perhaps inside of you? Do you even have a body to hold warmth now within this vast void of darkness? Why do you hear…?

Feelings come back to you tenfold. Seemingly experiencing everything you’ve ever felt and lived through all at once. That deafening silence becomes louder, louder, louder, until– it flourishes in the pit of your belly.

So much chaos within you. Swirling and bubbling in such a way that it fucking blooms in this darkness. You feel like you’re burning, freezing, dying, living, fucking drowning all at once.

That flourish forces the nothingness out of you. As comfortable as this place is, there is nothing and you want something. You need something. You crave…something.

A little dribble running down your throat leaving a trail of warm, blooming heat. As if you just swallowed a sun-ray itself. Only now can you feel your body again enough to know where the heat is coming from. It blossoms within you, increasing each sense within your body tenfold.

It doesn’t hurt.

Only now do you recognize that it’s silent again, as if you were slammed into a wall by the force of the god you now know does not exist. You feel yourself restrict under skin, you feel cold, you feel…heavy.

And the silence is still too loud to be so restricted. You miss the sounds of what you must have unintentionally listened to every waking moment of your life. The only true soundtrack of a living, loving, and heat-radiating being.

No heart-beat. No whirring of blood. No rumbling in your stomach. Nothing.

And yet still, it doesn’t hurt.

Just a bouquet in the pits in your belly. Your precious life, all summed up in that single diluted sip of blood.

And somehow, someway, you regain your strength faster than it took for you to lose it. You open your eyes on instinct and the world is glowing. Sunghoon is glowing. As lifeless as you are, and as empty as your brain is at this moment, you reach out to him immediately.

But he has yet to let go of you since all of this started. He stayed. He held you, just like he said he would.

“Did it hurt badly?” Sunghoon calls out to you, helping your mind awaken again.

He barely remembers the pain he went through when it happened to him. Truly, pain is so temporary, so meaningless to indulge but, the curiosity still sits with him.

After watching you for upwards of two hours to both die and come back to life, he can’t help but wonder if it was anything like what he experienced.

Even with that curiosity though, seeing you open your eyes for the first time in your new life fills Sunghoon with overwhelming glee. To the point he feels like a child, wanting to ask so many questions, thoughts shifting from this, to that, up until all his thoughts run together and all he can do is squeeze you in his grasp.

He’d have pulled down the stars if he could just so it could be your first view of the afterlife with him. But alas, he couldn’t step away even for a moment. He needed to be with you, not just for your sake, but his own.

You’re cold now, but oh, the blood within him could satiate him for hundreds of years. It’s gone from you now, and he fears not missing it. Not when you’re here. Not when you chose to be here with him.

You weakly nod to him, amazed at being able to do it again. Already the pain you’d previously felt feels like a long lost memory as you stare back at him.

“I’m sorry.” He smiles through the apology, unable to pretend he means the words at all. “I didn’t intend to drain you so quickly. My poor love, you must have felt miserable.”

You nod again, feeling him so tightly against you.

Only just realizing that he’s holding you. Your body, it’s coming back to you. You can feel sensations again.

“I feel–” Your voice cracks with a dry throat and you inhale.

On instinct, you try to exhale but your throat just gets drier and drier.

“I–”

Sunghoon coos, shushing you with a gentle kiss. Lending you his own saliva because if there’s one thing he can remember, it’s the act of learning how to…not breathe.

“Slowly, love, slowly.” He smiles when he pulls back, watching you swallow around his gift and instantly droop your eyes again.

“You’ve only just died and you have all the time in this world to speak, no need to do it now.”

And he’s right. You’re spinning, yet balanced. Fuzzy yet smooth. You are everything and nothing at this moment with your glowing after-death aroma. Sunghoon smiles, cradling the back of your head.

Finally, he’s gotten to drink you in full. No true death, and he feels more elated than he ever expected. Almost lulled to sleep at the scent of you disappearing. Never will he taste your blood again, but you. He has you now. Knowing you had a taste at all is enough. Knowing that he has broken for you enough to beg you.

To beg you to die for him just to be with him on a level deeper than thirst.

Never once has he wanted someone like this.

And never once had he expected you to agree with him.

The moment is sweet with him, and still you’ve yet to comprehend the truth reality of your life now. You know at least, that it could take longer than you’d have had previously to figure it out. You did this to be with someone, and that someone is right here next to you. Smiling, clinging, seemingly ecstatic to know he’s no longer alone.

A forever companion, truly this time.

And as sweet as the moment is, time still moves even after becoming ageless.

“The sun will rise soon,” Sunghoon hums at your reluctant gaze at the window. “Shall we go home?”

You would nod. Truly, you would, if it weren’t for that suffocating scent entering your nose.

Roses? No, tulips?

Lavender?

Your belly pangs, a dry and itchy feeling overtaking your entire being. To the point that Sunghoon clinging to you can’t even calm the itch. The world stops at the scent, so strong and sweet.

Sunghoon smells it too though, and he knows. He’s experienced it time and time again, though he’s long since learned how to control it, clearly. He purses his lips in frustration. You’ve only just come back, and he’d very much like to get you home with him so that you can learn and grow accustomed to this life. You need to realize that you haven’t even experienced the hardest part yet.

Disappearing.

After all, his intention was to hunt for you, teach you, comfort you. There’s so much to do now that the deed is done, and he hadn’t prepared for interruptions such as this.

Unfortunately, he knows very well the thirst. You won’t be able to control it, especially considering he knows this scent too. He has to force himself to try and lend you alluring words, but they seem to go through one ear and out the other.

Your brain is empty at the scent.

“Ah, what a turn of events.” He tics his tongue with a smile. “I smell him too.”

Your eyes do not reach Sunghoon at all, but he understands. Even with the jealousy in his gut.

A key clicking into a lock, a turn of the knob. The sound is amplified in your ears along with the scent.

“Wake up and help me unload all this shit!”

Oh, what a shame.

You really loved Jungwon.

“Can you smell it flowing through him?” Sunghoon smiles at the light in your eye now, endeared by the way scent ignites you entirely. As envious of Jungwon as he is to hold certain parts of you when he couldn’t do it himself, seeing the way you react arouses him beyond belief.

Your first feeling of thirst.

“Shall I greet him?”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jungwon peers at the stoic figure that appeared from your bedroom. His first thought is that he’s going to kick your fucking ass because number one, this better not be who he thinks it is. And number two–

There is no number two. A mere three seconds after stepping into his new home with you, his mind goes fuzzy. Thinking only of you, of needing to see you, of needing to make sure you’re okay.

He wants to know if you slept well, and if you were able to have any sweet dreams without him here.

“Jungwon, I take it?” Sunghoon lends him a lively smile, impressed by the pull you unintentionally lay on the guy.

“Ah, yeah.” Jungwon weakly scratches the back of his neck before feeling his body move on its own. “Where is she? I need to see her.”

It’s a pity, really, but Sunghoon has seen it time and time again with his own victims. A weak mind, one that is easily broken and even easier to lure. It’s kind of cute really, seeing how breathing humans cling to what balances them.

He almost feels bad for taking you from Jungwon, but he doesn't only because he hates that he has to see you drink from someone you were attached to. He knows it’ll hurt you when you realize, and he no longer wants to see you hurt after witnessing your death.

As beautiful as it was.

Jungwon truly chases you, stepping through the apartment and dropping everything in his hands without care. He heads straight to your room, swallowed in a somber smile and a welcome scent. One that he doesn’t know is death.

“Wonnie.” You rasp sweetly. “Come here.”

There’s no reluctance within him, even upon hearing Sunghoon close the door behind him and lock it. Even when the man looms at the door, watching, narrowing his eyes at you in jealousy.

You ignore it as you grow enamored with Jungwon at this moment. Is this what his life smells like? So pretty, it truly fits him.

And it drowns out all of your thoughts. The flowers, like a fresh spring day with no worry. You think it’s your favorite smell in the world as you inhale him with each step he takes toward you.

For Jungwon, even upon feeling you grip his shirt, pulling him closer than he’s ever been to you without the excuse of comfort, he pays no mind. He missed this bubble he shared with you, the single night with his sister almost felt like agony to be away from you.

After all, the love he holds for you is truly deeper than romance. There is no need for any physicality between the two of you, yet…he welcomes it at this moment. In fact, he’s entirely aroused, stiffening in his pants at the sheer blissful anxiety your uncanny smile and shining eyes lend to him.

Did you truly miss him so much?

“You look so pretty…” He trails off, closing his eyes as he feels you caress his warm cheeks. “Your hands are so cold, let me—ah”

You’ve never felt an instinct quite like this. You could truly hear it, the pulse of his heart. You can still smell his sweet scent, and you truly weren’t in control of your own body when you gripped him, lifted, and sank your teeth right against his pulse point.

Jungwon moans at the bite, drifting off entirely at first contact.

All while Sunghoon continues to loom. Watching with weight in his pants. The way you bite so messily, spilling blood and wasting it as it trickles down Jungwon’s throat. The small sounds your mouth makes as you suck has him throbbing non-stop, to the point he almost needs to hold onto something just to keep from jumping on you, just to keep from tasting Jungwon himself.

And, oh, his pretty love, you have so much to adapt to.

It appears he does as well.

As he watches the furrow of your brows at the first taste falling to that of relief and pleasure as you drink, and you drink, and you drink, until–

Sunghoon smirks now, quirking his brow at how you stop yourself before he needs to step in and separate the two of you. In all honesty, he was unsure if he’d be able to give in and stop you either. After all, killing Jungwon now would prove easier than letting him live.

The fact that you stopped yourself though. Perhaps your mind grew more stubborn and strong-willed through death. He nearly cannot believe that you aren’t draining the man dry right now.

And you aren’t even sure yourself why you do. The feeling in your gut is full and satiated, but the grip Jungwon has on you only grows more and more limp. You love the way he clings as much as the taste, and even through his slumber, he clinged so tight.

Not so much now though, and that scared you. So, you let go.

If only because truly, you do love Jungwon. Enough to no longer pull him into your messes despite forcing him to become one at this moment. What’s even more scary is though, even with all of the endearment you held towards him in life, the feeling is only amplified now. These new bitter and floral scents pulsing through him makes you want to protect him from any leech wanting to drink it out of him.

Even if you’re the leech.

Ah, he tasted like honey suckle, and it dropped down your throat like honey too. Warm, gentle, pretty. Just like him.

And you have to continue to keep yourself from sinking your teeth into him. Your stomach is greedy, wanting more, but too in love with the life he has and willingly wanted to share with you as a best friend and forever comfort.

Forever for Jungwon is nothing but a moment to you now, but it’s one you hope he enjoys, at least.

And when you hold him against you, so weak and sound asleep, you look at Sunghoon. The tears fall so, so, cold against your cheeks. The heightened senses within you become overwhelming with the horrifying silence and intense smell of floral blood wafting through your nose.

“Much like you, he won’t remember. You lured him deeply, love, did you know that? He was asleep from the moment he saw you.”

You pause, nodding as the tears continue to fall.

“Brilliant.” He compliments now, moving to hold you as you cling to Jungwon.

“Sunghoon, did my blood taste like that?”

Sunghoon kisses you once, sucking Jungwon’s blood from your tongue.

“Ah,” He chokes. “Absolutely not.”

You pause at his scrunched nose.

“You were much sweeter.” He whispers sweetly, fondly, tilting his head to kiss against you again, licking the mess of Jungwon’s blood from your lips, chin, and neck. Still, he chokes it down. “I’ll miss it.”

“What did it taste like?” Your weak and dry voice falters repeatedly, but you need to speak right now.

“You tell me.”

You only slightly remember the flavor as you were brought back. Warm, blooming, spicy, sickeningly sweet.

“I have never tasted anything compared to it…”

“Exactly.” Sunghoon smiles, inhaling deeply and lending no breath against your skin when he scrapes his teeth there. “Like the sun.” He hums, nosing down to your neck and inhaling again, arms only slightly trying to push Jungwon out of your grasp. “Like the one thing that could get me killed.”

You cling tightly to your best friend though, not wanting any more harm to come to him. Still, you stare at Sunghoon’s sweet words, finding yourself smiling at all that is to be gained rather than lost.

Your life. The light outside, the light in your eyes, the warmth.

Not Jungwon though.

“You don’t intend to leave him be, no?” Sunghoon furrows a brow at how your face rises for him, but falls instantly at inhaling Jungwon’s blood.

You frantically shake your head.

“We’ll figure something out, love.” He says now, looking away from you and doing his best to ignore the envy that fills him time and time again when this floral-boy is near.

He told you he’d do anything for you, give anything to you.

If that includes Jungwon….

Ah, always so fucking stubborn.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun rises and falls.

Repeatedly, for months.

Jungwon wakes himself with the warm sun hitting his face, the bed just as warm from his own body heat. He loves this space, and adores the way that even if it’s only him, he never feels lonely with that pretty smell in the air.

Every morning when he wakes up, and every night before he goes to bed.

The shock of learning the inevitable still hurts him from time to time, but still, he smiles with that dimple you threatened you’d steal right off his face if he chose not to show it to you.

His hand reaches to his neck, the single wound you gave him and apologized profusely for after. It’s healed well.

And when his phone vibrates in the middle of the day, he wonders why you’re awake.

You: wonnie

Wonnie: wat

You: come over

Wonnie: was wondering why you were trying so hard. nearly suffocated this morning.

You: and you were fighting it? asshole

Wonnie: be over in a few, stinky

And as strange as it is, Sunghoon doesn’t mind that you wouldn’t let Jungwon go. After several conversations needing reassurance that you’re not trying to spend your forever elsewhere, anyway.

Really, to think you’d die for him but want someone else? Sunghoon truly is insane, but so are you.

And it works.

Because Jungwon loves insanity, even if he hates Sunghoon with a passion. Even if he can only see you with Sunghoon in the room too. Even if you’re dead.

You’re still his best friend, and he doesn’t mind helping you disappear as long as it’s not from him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

not me accidentally making this a sunghoon ft.jungwon fic.

Fanart by @a-the-na 🖤🖤🖤🖤

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha smut

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wonyowonyo · 2 months ago

Text

Whispers Through Time (P. Hanni X M! Reader)

Guess who's back, it's none other than your ghosting author wonyo! Firstly, I'd like to apologize for my very long absence as life have just been too much of a bitch for me to have the time write. I can't certainly promise to update more in the future as I only have a week break right now, which is why I was able to write a new fic. This one's about 9k words, my longest? yet, so as always I hope you all enjoy this one and I'll see yall when I see ya.

The day had started like any other. Hanni strolled through the historic district, earbuds in, a soft breeze carrying the scent of aged stone and street vendors' offerings. She wasn’t quite sure what drew her into the small, dusty museum on the corner. Something about the old sign, its letters faded with time, beckoned her inside.

As she wandered past glass cases filled with relics—muskets, uniforms, yellowed parchments—her eyes landed on an antique pendant, its silver surface engraved with intricate symbols. She leaned closer, feeling an inexplicable pull.

“That belonged to an unknown revolutionary,” said an elderly curator, appearing beside her. His voice was soft, almost reverent. “No one knows his name, but legend has it he wore this during the final days of the rebellion.”

Hanni reached out, almost without thinking. Her fingertips brushed the glass, and a sudden rush of energy surged through her. The room seemed to spin, the walls melting into a blur of light and shadow. She gasped, stumbling backward—

And then, everything went dark.

————————————————————

When Hanni’s eyes fluttered open, the air was thick with smoke. Shouts echoed around her, mingling with the sharp crack of musket fire. She coughed, struggling to her feet, her heart pounding.

She wasn’t in the museum anymore.

Cobblestone streets stretched before her, lined with ramshackle buildings. People in period clothing—mud-smeared skirts, patched waistcoats—ran past, their faces twisted in fear or fury.

“This can’t be real,” she whispered, but the acrid sting of gunpowder in her nostrils said otherwise.

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed her arm. She spun around to find a young man, his dark eyes fierce beneath a tricorn hat. “You there! What are you doing out in the open?” he hissed, pulling her into a shadowy alley.

“I—I don’t know,” Hanni stammered, heart racing. “Where am I?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not from around here, are you? This is no place for a lost soul.” His voice softened slightly, though the urgency remained. “Come. We need to get off the streets. The Redcoats are out in force.”

Hanni followed him deeper into the alley, her mind a whirlwind. The dim passage was narrow, the sounds of chaos fading as they moved.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced back, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can call me Y/n.”

————————————————————

Hanni followed Y/n through a maze of twisting alleys, her heart hammering in her chest. Every echo of musket fire or distant shout sent shivers down her spine. The air was thick with tension, the kind of fear and resolve that seemed to hang over the entire city.

Finally, Y/n stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door, its surface worn and weathered. He knocked three times in a specific rhythm. After a moment, the door creaked open, and a pair of wary eyes peered out.

"Another stray?" the man behind the door muttered, his voice gruff. He was older, with a scar running down one side of his face.

"She was wandering in the streets," Y/n replied, pushing the door open further. "We couldn't leave her out there."

The man sighed but stepped aside, letting them in. Hanni followed Y/n into the dimly lit room. It was small and crowded, with a handful of people huddled around a makeshift table, their faces lined with exhaustion. Maps and documents were spread out before them, illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle.

"Stay here," Y/n whispered, guiding her to a corner. "Don't draw attention to yourself."

Hanni nodded, sinking onto a tattered blanket. The reality of her situation was starting to sink in. This wasn't a dream. She had somehow been transported back in time, into the heart of a revolution. She watched as Y/n joined the others at the table, his expression serious as they spoke in hushed tones.

For a moment, she just observed him. There was a quiet intensity about him, a determination that seemed to burn beneath the surface. His clothes were worn, his face smudged with dirt, but his eyes—deep and fierce—were filled with a kind of resolve she'd never seen before.

————————————————————

After what felt like hours, Y/n returned to her corner, sinking down beside her. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but his eyes were sharp and watchful.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft but edged with tension.

Hanni nodded. "I... think so. I still don't understand how I got here."

Y/n studied her for a long moment, his gaze narrowing. "You keep saying that. What do you mean you don't know?" His tone was laced with suspicion now.

She hesitated. "It's... complicated. I come from a different time. A different world."

His eyes widened, and he leaned back slightly, as if she might be dangerous. "What are you talking about? Is this some kind of trick?" His voice rose slightly, drawing the attention of a few others in the room.

"No!" she whispered urgently, glancing around. "I know it sounds impossible, but it’s the truth. I was... in a museum, looking at an old artifact, and then... I woke up here."

Y/n's brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. "A museum? What kind of nonsense is that? You expect me to believe you came from... the future?"

Hanni swallowed hard. "Yes. I know how it sounds, but I swear, it’s true."

For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed bitterly. "People are risking their lives out there, and you think this is a game? Some story to entertain us?"

"It’s not a story!" Hanni insisted, her voice breaking. "I don’t know how or why, but I was pulled here. Into your time. I don’t belong here."

Y/n shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and anger. "I’ve seen men lose their minds in this war. Desperation makes people say all kinds of things. But this...?" He stood abruptly, pacing. "You expect me to believe you’re some kind of... time traveler?"

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I don’t know why I’m here, but... I think maybe it’s to help. To change something. Maybe even to help you."

He stopped, his gaze fixed on her. "Help me? How could you possibly help?" His voice was low, almost a whisper now, but the doubt was clear.

"Because I’ve seen how history unfolds," she said, her voice trembling. "I know what revolutions can become. What people like you can achieve."

For a moment, Y/n just stared at her, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft. "If you’re lying... it could cost lives."

"I’m not," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please. Just trust me."

The room was silent, the weight of her words hanging between them. Y/n's expression was still guarded, but there was something else now—a flicker of uncertainty, of hope.

"Then prove it," he said finally. "Show me something. Anything that could make me believe you."

Hanni’s heart raced. She had no idea how to prove what she was saying. But she knew one thing for certain: she had to make him believe.

————————————————————

Hanni’s mind raced, searching for something—anything—that would convince Y/n she was telling the truth. She opened her bag, still miraculously slung across her shoulder, and rifled through its contents. Amidst old receipts and a water bottle, she pulled out her smartphone.

Y/n's eyes narrowed. "What's that?" His voice was tight, wary.

"It’s… a device from my time," Hanni said, holding it out cautiously. She pressed the power button, but nothing happened—the battery had died. Her heart sank.

"It doesn’t even work," Y/n muttered, his voice dripping with skepticism. He turned away, his shoulders rigid with frustration. "You’re wasting our time."

"Wait!" Hanni pleaded. "Even if it doesn’t work now, it’s real. Look at it—it’s made of materials you don’t have here. It has no seams, no screws. I can’t explain everything, but… you have to believe me."

Y/n hesitated, reaching out to touch the device. His fingers traced the smooth glass screen, his brow furrowing. "It’s… unlike anything I’ve seen," he admitted, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity. "But that doesn’t mean you’re from another time."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. "What will it take, Y/n? I didn’t choose this. I’m scared, just like you."

The raw emotion in her voice seemed to reach him. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, the doubt wavered. "If what you say is true," he said slowly, "then why are you here? Why now?"

Hanni shook her head. "I don’t know. Maybe… maybe to help you. Maybe to change something."

Y/n’s eyes darkened. "Change what? We’re fighting a losing battle, Hanni. Every day, we lose more people. Hope is a dangerous thing here."

"But it’s all you have," she whispered, stepping closer. "You have to believe there’s a future worth fighting for."

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the tension between them shifted. The room seemed to shrink around them, the sounds of the rebellion fading into the background.

"You speak like someone who knows what we’re fighting for," Y/n said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you don't know our pain."

"I know courage," Hanni replied, her voice steady. "I see it in you. In all of you. And I know that what you’re doing matters."

Y/n’s expression softened, the walls he had built around himself beginning to crack. "You really believe that?"

"I do," she whispered.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Y/n nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. "I don’t know if I believe your story," he said finally, his voice low. "But I believe in you."

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them—a fragile connection forged in the chaos of war.

————————————————————

The days passed like they were suspended in time, quiet moments broken only by the distant sounds of musket fire or the hushed whispers of rebels making plans. Hanni found herself swept deeper into the daily life of the revolution, but it wasn’t just the work that kept her there. It was the people. The people, and him—Y/n.

At first, it was the small things. He would catch her eye across the room and offer a slight nod of acknowledgment. There were moments when he would pause, as if considering saying something, but would always retreat back into himself, slipping into the shadows like he had before.

But each time, Hanni noticed. And slowly, his distant manner softened, though she could never quite understand why.

Her days were spent helping wherever she could. She learned how to prepare simple meals with the limited supplies they had—using techniques she never thought she’d need to know. When rebels returned from the front lines, bloodied and tired, she assisted in patching wounds and soothing the pain as best as she could with the little medicine they had. The acts were small, but the trust the rebels placed in her gave her a sense of purpose she hadn't expected.

Y/n, too, would linger on the outskirts, watching her in quiet contemplation. He would never ask her to do anything, but there was a silent appreciation in the way he observed her, a sense of something building just beneath the surface. Sometimes, he would glance her way, his expression unreadable, as though he was trying to piece something together.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her, not just with his eyes but with something deeper, something more searching.

And yet, every time she saw him, Hanni was reminded of the truth she had buried deep in her mind. This wasn’t her world. These weren’t her people. And no matter how strong her connection with Y/n felt in the moment, it was all doomed to end the second she returned to her time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care for him—it was the opposite. The more she saw of him, the more she understood his burdens, the more she felt for him, the more she realized how dangerous it was to get involved with someone in this time. How could she love someone who would never truly know her, who would never understand the world she came from?

Y/n’s life was a war. His fight was for something that might never be realized, something that could be extinguished by the very forces he fought against. What could she give him, knowing she didn’t belong here, knowing that every action she took would only alter their fate?

Her thoughts were spiraling when she found herself once again standing alone by the window of the safe house, staring out into the dark, wondering about the future.

She wasn’t even sure if she could call it "home" anymore. The longer she stayed, the more she learned, and the more she felt like she was betraying the very people who had taken her in. And Y/n—Y/n made everything feel more complicated.

It wasn’t fair to him. She was a ghost in his world, and she couldn’t even promise him a future. She’d always known she’d have to leave—whether she figured out how to go home or simply faded out of their history entirely. But the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. It was only a matter of time.

Y/n found her there, his footsteps quiet on the stone floor. He said nothing at first, simply stood beside her, gazing out at the same starry sky that stretched endlessly above them.

Finally, it was Hanni who broke the silence. "You’re always so quiet," she said, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the question. "Don’t you ever get tired of keeping everything inside?"

Y/n’s eyes shifted to her, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he masked it with that same distant expression. He didn’t speak at first. Instead, he looked down at his hands, turning them over in his lap, as if weighing her words carefully.

"It’s easier that way," he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. "If you don’t say anything, they can’t use it against you. If you don’t let anyone in..." His words trailed off, and he fell into silence again.

Hanni wanted to say something, to offer some comfort, but she found herself too tangled in her own thoughts. There was something about him, something in his sadness that mirrored her own confusion. She wanted to understand him, to help him bear his burden, but the more she understood, the more complicated it became.

"Is it... that bad?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him. "The fighting, I mean. The way you’re always running, always looking over your shoulder?"

Y/n’s jaw clenched at her question, and for a moment, it seemed like he might shut down completely. But instead, he spoke again, though it was with a far-off look in his eyes—a look that seemed to carry years of loss, of moments he couldn’t forget.

"It’s not just the fighting," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet sorrow. "It’s the loss. It’s losing people, watching them fall one by one and knowing you couldn’t do enough. And it’s the guilt." His eyes met hers for the first time in what felt like forever, and there was a vulnerability there, raw and painful. "That’s what it is. The guilt. Because you can never do enough."

The weight of his words hit Hanni harder than she anticipated. She hadn’t been prepared for this side of him, the one he kept hidden beneath the steely resolve. There was so much pain, so much history she could never fully understand, no matter how hard she tried.

Her heart ached at the thought of the sacrifices he’d made, the endless battles he fought, and the people he had lost. But it wasn’t just sympathy she felt. It was a connection—a longing to help him, to take away some of that burden.

She stepped closer to him, her hand gently resting on his arm. "You don’t have to carry all of this alone," she murmured, her voice tender. "I’m here. I know it’s not much, but I’ll be here for you. If you need to talk, or just... have someone listen."

Y/n looked at her, his eyes softening for a brief moment. She could see the hesitation in him, as if he were unsure whether to accept her offer or push her away. But in the end, he didn’t pull back. He let her hand stay there.

Hanni didn’t know what else to say, so she simply stood there with him, offering him the silent support he didn’t know he needed. She wasn’t sure what would come next—whether he would open up or retreat even further into himself—but for now, she was content to simply be there, offering whatever comfort she could.

After a long pause, Y/n finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Hanni. I... I didn’t expect this. But it means more than I can say."

She gave him a small smile, her heart feeling lighter. "It’s nothing. You’ve been through so much, and I... I don’t know how to help, but I want to try."

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the quiet hum of the night around them. And in that silence, they shared something unspoken—a brief moment of understanding, of connection, where the world outside seemed to fade away.

Y/n stood up slowly, as if considering his next words carefully. He didn’t speak, but there was a softness in his gaze as he looked down at her. Without saying anything more, he reached out, giving her a gentle, reassuring touch on the shoulder before turning back toward the door.

"Rest," he said quietly. "We have a long road ahead."

As he left, Hanni lingered by the window, looking out at the stars, a quiet ache in her chest. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, for them, but in that moment, she knew one thing—she would stand by him, no matter what came next.

————————————————————

The safe house was quiet, save for the soft rustling of fabric as rebels settled in for the night. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, the warm glow offering a sense of fragile peace in a world that had long forgotten calm.

Hanni sat alone in the corner, her knees tucked up to her chest, gazing into the dying flames of the hearth. Thoughts swirled in her mind, all tangled up in the confusing mess of her emotions. The more time she spent with Y/n, the harder it became to ignore the deepening bond between them.

She couldn’t lie to herself. She cared for him—perhaps more than she was willing to admit. But that didn’t change the fact that she was from the future, a stranger in this time. How could she possibly belong here, in a world she didn’t understand, with someone who could never understand her?

And yet, in moments like these—when the world outside was chaos and the people around her were fighting for survival—Hanni found herself leaning into something she hadn’t expected: connection.

Y/n had become something more than just a revolutionary leader to her. He was a person—a person with fears and dreams, someone who wore his pain on his sleeve when no one was looking. There was so much she wanted to ask him, to know about his past, his life before the rebellion. But she also understood that there were things he could never say. Some scars went too deep to be shared so easily.

The sound of soft footsteps broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find Y/n standing in the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the darkness beyond.

"You’re still awake," he said, his voice low and steady, though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

Hanni nodded, offering him a small, uncertain smile. "Just thinking," she said quietly. "It’s hard to sleep sometimes, with everything that’s going on."

Y/n didn’t reply immediately, stepping further into the room and sitting across from her. His gaze was soft but intense, studying her as though trying to read the thoughts behind her guarded expression.

"You’re still thinking about everything, aren’t you?" His words weren’t accusatory. They were simply a statement of fact.

Hanni hesitated, then sighed, pulling her knees closer. "I don’t know how to stop. This place, this time... it feels like I’m caught between two worlds. One that I don’t belong to anymore, and one that I can’t quite seem to find my way into."

There was a long pause before Y/n spoke again, his voice quiet but warm, as if he understood the weight of her words in a way that no one else could. "I know how you feel. Being stuck between two places. Torn between your past and your future."

Hanni’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if he meant it in the way she thought, or if it was just a way to connect. Either way, it felt like an opening—an invitation to say more, to let him in.

"I didn’t think it would be like this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t think I’d get attached. To you, to all of this. But I have. I’ve seen how you lead, how you fight. How much you care. And I’ve started caring, too. But I can’t..." She faltered, shaking her head, as if the words weren’t enough to express the conflicting emotions inside of her. "I can’t be the person you need, not when I’m from a world you can never know."

Y/n’s expression shifted then, his gaze softening with understanding. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes not leaving hers. "I don’t need you to be anything but yourself," he said, his voice sincere, as if the weight of his words carried more than just a comforting gesture. "I’ve been through a lot, Hanni. And I know what it’s like to feel like you're an outsider. But here, with us... you’ve already become part of something bigger. Part of the fight. And no matter where you came from, that means something."

Hanni’s chest tightened at his words. The weight of them settled over her like a warm blanket, but it also felt heavy, because she knew that soon, she would have to leave. Her time here, however much it felt like home, was not real. It couldn’t be real. Not in the way she wanted it to be.

And yet, she couldn’t help but feel an undeniable pull toward him. Y/n had been her anchor in this strange world, offering her moments of comfort when all she could do was stand on the sidelines and watch as history unfolded around her.

"Thank you," Hanni said softly, her voice almost cracking. "For saying that. It means more than you know."

Y/n’s eyes met hers, and for the briefest of moments, the room seemed to fall away. There were no sounds of rebellion, no distant gunshots, no whispering fears about the future. There was only this—this quiet moment where they both understood what was unsaid.

Y/n’s hand reached out then, resting lightly on hers. It was a simple gesture, but to Hanni, it felt like an unspoken promise. She didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if she’d ever see him again once she left, but in that moment, with the quiet hum of the world around them, she allowed herself to be present. To be there for him. And to let him be there for her.

They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them slowly easing. As the night deepened, Y/n stood up and extended his hand toward her, a small, wry smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You’ve been working hard. You deserve a rest."

Hanni looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with unspoken words. But she nodded, accepting his gesture without hesitation. She didn’t need to say anything. They didn’t need words to understand each other right now.

Instead, they stepped outside into the cool night air, where the stars hung like tiny pinpricks of light in the vast expanse of the sky. The quiet of the world felt different here—softer, as if the very earth itself was holding its breath.

Y/n’s hand brushed against hers as they walked side by side, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They stopped for a moment, standing under the canopy of stars, each of them lost in their thoughts, but also somehow connected in that quiet solitude.

"This is freedom, isn’t it?" Hanni asked, her voice barely audible, but steady. "The kind you’re fighting for."

Y/n looked up at the stars for a long moment, his eyes reflecting the distant light. "Maybe," he murmured. "Freedom isn’t always about what’s out there—it’s about what we can hold onto, what we believe in, even when everything seems impossible."

Hanni nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest. It was something she had been struggling to understand for days, ever since she arrived. Freedom wasn’t just about returning to her time, to her world—it was about what she could give in the here and now, even if it meant staying with him, with them, for as long as she could.

Y/n turned to her then, his eyes softer than they had been before. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time since arriving in this strange, violent era, Hanni allowed herself to believe him. Not because she was sure of the outcome—but because, right then, in that moment, it felt true.

They stood there for a while longer, side by side, under the vast, starry sky. The night was still, but the air between them was charged—full of the unspoken things they both needed but hadn’t yet found the words to express.

For a moment, Hanni forgot the distance between their worlds. She only knew the quiet comfort of his presence, and the strange but undeniable peace of the moment they were sharing.

————————————————————

The days seemed to stretch into one another, a mix of quiet moments and heavy responsibilities. Time, it seemed, was a constant weight pressing down on Hanni. Each passing day brought them closer to an inevitable confrontation with the colonial authorities, and Y/n’s position within the movement was more precarious than ever.

Hanni had long known that Y/n was a target for the regime. His intellect, his strategies, his speeches—everything about him made him a threat. The more she became involved with the rebels, the more she realized just how dangerous it was for him. But she never anticipated how deeply his fate would intertwine with her own, nor how much she would come to care for him.

Still, she couldn’t allow herself to be consumed by these feelings—not when she was from the future. She had seen the records, she had lived with the knowledge of how it all played out. Y/n’s rebellion, the bloodshed, the eventual collapse—she had witnessed it from afar in her own time. She knew his future in a way that no one else could.

And the thing was, she wasn’t sure how much of it she could change.

It was late one evening, after a long day of tending to the wounded and helping prepare supplies for the next battle, that Y/n found her alone in the corner of the safe house. She had been trying to make sense of everything—the war, the lives at stake, and her own internal conflict.

He stood silently for a moment before speaking, his voice low but clear. "We’re running out of time, Hanni."

Her heart sank. She had known this conversation was coming. She had felt it in the air, in the way everyone seemed to move more urgently, more carefully, as if aware that danger was circling them.

"I know," she said, looking up at him. She forced a calmness into her voice, but inside, her heart was beating faster than ever. "What are you planning?"

Y/n sat down across from her, his expression hard, but with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "We can’t wait any longer. The authorities are closing in. The others are preparing to flee the city, but I can’t just leave the cause behind." His words were filled with resolve, but Hanni could hear the strain in his voice. He was worn down, his mind heavy with the weight of leadership and the knowledge that his own death was becoming inevitable.

Her throat tightened. She already knew what he was planning—he was going to make himself a target, sacrifice himself for the cause. He had been so sure of it, even before she’d come into his life, even before they’d shared the quiet moments they now had. He had already made peace with the idea of dying for freedom, for the revolution.

And that was the problem.

Hanni had spent days, weeks, torn between what she knew of the future and what she wanted to do to save him. She couldn’t let him die. She couldn’t. Not when she knew the kind of impact he would have, the hope he would inspire, the lives that could be changed if he just survived a little longer.

But changing history wasn’t as simple as saving one person. The future—her future—was fragile. She had seen what happened when people interfered with time. The consequences were often unpredictable, violent. What if changing Y/n’s fate meant altering everything she knew, everything that had shaped the future she came from?

She struggled to keep the doubt out of her voice. "You’re not making this decision alone, Y/n. If you leave now, if you go alone, you’re not just risking your life—you’re risking everything we’ve fought for."

"I know," he said quietly. "But I don’t have a choice anymore. If we keep waiting, they’ll find us. We’ll all be dead."

Hanni’s heart twisted. She wanted to say something, to convince him to reconsider, but she couldn’t find the words. She couldn’t even tell him the truth—she couldn’t tell him that she knew how it would end. How he would end.

She had known for a long time now, ever since she’d arrived in this time and begun piecing together the fragments of history, that Y/n was going to die in a few months. The specifics were unclear—there were no exact dates in the records—but there were enough details to know his fate was sealed. His death would be a turning point for the revolution, a martyrdom that would galvanize the people and push them toward victory. But for all her knowledge, for all her understanding of the future, it felt cruel to just stand by and let him die.

He looked at her then, his gaze steady, as if he could read her conflicted thoughts. "I know you’re struggling with this, Hanni," he said softly. "I know you want to change things. You’ve always had that look in your eyes, like you’re waiting for the right moment to fix it all."

Hanni felt her breath catch in her throat. It was true—she had never fully accepted her place in the timeline. She had always wondered if there was something she could do, some way she could alter the future to save the people she had come to care for. But this was different. Y/n was different.

"I can’t just let you die," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I know it’s supposed to happen—I know it’s part of the history, part of the plan—but I can’t stand by and watch it happen. I’ve seen what you’ll do for this cause, Y/n. I’ve seen how much you’ll give. But you can’t die. You can’t—"

"Hanni," Y/n cut her off gently, his hand reaching across the table to grasp hers. His touch was warm, grounding her. "You’ve seen the future. You know that nothing stays the same. But what I do—what we do—still matters. Whether I’m here or not, we have to keep fighting. I’ve made my peace with this. But you have to make your peace, too."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears, though she struggled to keep them back. She had never wanted to hurt him. She didn’t want to change everything. But how could she let him die, knowing there was still time to save him? Could she really live with that choice?

"I don’t want to lose you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I don’t know if I can change things. I don’t know if it’s right to change anything at all."

Y/n squeezed her hand, his gaze softening. "Hanni, no matter what happens, we’ve done something. We’ve given everything for this cause. The people will carry it forward. You’ve already changed the future in ways you don’t even realize. Just by being here, just by standing with us, you’ve already made a difference."

Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words. It wasn’t just about saving him, it was about the bigger picture—the revolution, the fight for freedom, the lives of countless others. But how could she stand by and let him die?

A painful silence stretched between them, heavy with the impossible decision she had to make. Would she try to change history? Could she? Or would she accept that some things were beyond her control, that sometimes the greatest acts of love were letting go?

She didn’t have an answer yet. Not right then.

But one thing was clear—she couldn’t keep running from the future forever.

————————————————————

The days that followed were tense, as the weight of Hanni's decision pressed heavily on her chest. Each conversation she had with Y/n seemed to deepen the growing conflict inside her. She wanted to believe in the cause, to stand by him, and yet, every time she looked into his eyes, the same thought haunted her: What if I could save him?

The safe house, once a refuge, had become a place of quiet desperation. The others were preparing to leave the city, to scatter and take their fight to the countryside, where they hoped to continue their struggle in the shadows. But Y/n refused to run—not when he was the beating heart of their movement, not when he had come so far.

Hanni spent her days helping with preparations, cooking, tending to the wounded, and even assisting with organizing supplies. But at night, when the others went to sleep, she would sit in the corner, staring at the wall, her mind racing. The future was so clear in her mind—his future—and yet she felt powerless to change it. Every instinct screamed at her to act, to save him. But the question still lingered: Should she?

It was late one evening when Y/n found her again, standing alone in the dim-lit courtyard of the safe house. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind a blanket of clouds. A cold breeze swept through the alley, making her shiver as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Y/n said, his voice low and careful, as if sensing the heavy burden she was carrying.

Hanni turned to face him, offering a weak smile. “I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been... thinking.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about what?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “About everything. About what comes next. About the choices I’ve made—and the ones I still have to make.”

The tension between them grew, thick and palpable. Y/n moved closer, his presence both comforting and overwhelming. His gaze softened as he spoke, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re not the only one carrying a heavy load, you know.”

Hanni looked up at him, her heart aching at the raw honesty in his voice. “I know. I’ve seen the way you’re torn, Y/n. I know you’ve accepted what’s coming, but... it’s hard for me to do the same.”

He took a step closer, now just inches away from her, his hand reaching out to rest gently on her arm. “I know you care about me, Hanni. And I care about you, too. But you can’t carry this burden alone.”

A flicker of warmth spread through her chest at his words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the heavy weight of the decision she still had to make. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. How could she explain everything to him without revealing the truth of where she came from? How could she admit that she knew his future, his sacrifice, and yet still felt torn between letting history unfold as it was meant to—or changing it?

Y/n seemed to sense her internal struggle. “I’ve made peace with it, Hanni. I’ve fought for this cause, and I will die for it if I must. But that doesn’t mean I want to leave this world without knowing that you understand... what this all means. What it means to truly fight for something.”

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream that she couldn’t let him die, that she couldn’t just stand by and watch it happen. But that would change everything—everything she had come to know. The future, the world she knew, depended on certain things remaining in place.

“I do understand,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But... I don’t want you to die.”

Y/n’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “I know you don’t. But sometimes, we don’t get to choose our fate. Sometimes, the fight for freedom demands sacrifices we’re not ready to make. And when it comes down to it, I can’t regret that choice.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his conviction. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the heat of his touch on her skin, grounding her in the present moment. His hand lingered there, warm and steady.

“I’m not asking you to accept it,” he continued. “I’m just asking you to be here. With me. Until the end.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she met his eyes, her own filled with unshed tears. She wanted to argue, to beg him to leave, to fight another day. But the reality was clear. He was already committed. The revolution needed him. And she couldn’t change his path, no matter how much she wanted to.

The moment hung between them, fragile and delicate. Then, as if to break the silence, Y/n spoke again. “I know you want to change things, Hanni. But some things are bigger than us. The revolution... it will live on, with or without me.”

Hanni felt a surge of emotion at his words. She wanted to deny them, to argue that there was still time, that she could still save him. But the truth was, she didn’t know how to change what was already set in motion.

They stood there for a long time, neither of them speaking, just existing in the silence, sharing the weight of the future between them. Eventually, Hanni spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“What if I can’t let you go?”

Y/n’s hand slid down to hers, and he squeezed it gently. “You don’t have to. Just promise me that you’ll remember what we’re fighting for, Hanni. Not just the cause, but the people—the ones who will carry this fight forward. They’ll need you. The world will need you.”

The finality in his voice made her heart ache. But she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I promise.”

Y/n gave her a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if he knew the weight of the promise she had just made. “Then, let’s make the most of the time we have left.”

With that, he pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly as if the moment could last forever. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, the steady beat of his heart that she had come to depend on. She didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, but for now, all that mattered was the present.

————————————————————

The night was quiet, but it carried an electric tension, like the calm before a storm. Hanni and Y/n spent the evening together, talking in the soft light of the safe house, sharing stories of their lives, of the world they came from. For a brief moment, the war seemed distant. For just a little while, they were not enemies, rebels, or future and past—they were simply two people, trying to hold on to something real.

Y/n took Hanni’s hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know that you’ve made a difference in my life. And in the lives of the others. You’ve given us hope."

Hanni’s eyes shimmered with emotion, but she nodded, unable to speak the words she wanted to. Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder, content in the moment. She wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but for tonight, she was with him—and that, for now, was enough.

————————————————————

The early morning light crept through the cracks in the safe house walls, casting long shadows across the floor. Hanni had hardly slept, her mind a tangled mess of regrets and what-ifs. She watched as the rebels moved quickly, preparing for their final stand. It was no surprise that the colonial forces were on their way—she had known it was coming, but knowing something in advance didn’t make it any easier.

Y/n moved among the rebels, his presence as steady and commanding as ever. He issued orders, encouraging those around him, all while maintaining a calm demeanor that belied the tension thick in the air. Hanni watched him closely from across the room. In his every movement, she saw the gravity of the choices they were all facing. And, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met.

A fleeting glance. But in it, Hanni saw everything that had brought them together, everything that would be lost, and everything she had yet to say. The things she should have said long before this moment.

Suddenly, the sound of distant explosions broke the morning silence, followed by a sharp, nerve-wracking crackle of gunfire. The colonial forces were moving in earlier than anticipated. Panic erupted in the safe house. The rebels scrambled, gathering their weapons and preparing to defend the position.

But Y/n was steady in the chaos. His voice was firm and unshaken as he directed everyone to their positions.

"Hanni," he called, motioning her over. His tone was different now, focused, but still carrying the same warmth that had drawn her to him since the beginning. When she approached him, he pressed something into her hand—a small, leather-bound journal, its edges worn from years of use.

"Keep this safe," he said, his voice low. "It contains everything—our plans, our hopes, our dreams for the future. Make sure it reaches the right people. They’ll need it when the time comes."

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat as she held the journal. It wasn’t just a record of their efforts; it was his legacy, a testament to everything he had fought for. Her fingers closed around it, but the weight of it felt like a burden, heavier than she ever imagined.

“Y/n,” she whispered, almost desperate. “Please, there has to be another way. This doesn’t have to happen.”

He met her gaze with an almost imperceptible smile, but it was tinged with sadness. The flicker of pain in his eyes only made her heart ache more.

"You know there isn't," he said softly, the finality in his voice cutting through her protests. "But you've given me something I never expected to find in all of this chaos. A reason to believe that the future will be better than the present."

The sounds of fighting grew closer, the outside world closing in on them. The air was thick with urgency.

"You need to go," Y/n said firmly, pushing her gently toward the back exit. “The others will make sure you get to safety.”

Hanni froze. Every part of her screamed to stay. To fight alongside him. To change the course of history. She had always thought she could do that, thought she could somehow fix it all. But now, in this moment, she knew the truth. This was how history had to unfold.

“I won’t forget,” she said, her voice trembling as tears filled her eyes. “I won’t let anyone forget what you fought for.”

Y/n stepped closer, pulling her into a tight embrace. His arms were warm, protective, but in that moment, it felt like he was offering her his last piece of peace. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

But then, almost instinctively, Hanni tilted her head upward, and Y/n's lips met hers in a kiss that was both gentle and desperate. It was a kiss filled with the weight of everything they had been through, everything they would never have, and everything they could never say aloud.

For that brief moment, the chaos of the world around them faded. The sound of explosions, the gunfire, the inevitable future—all of it disappeared as they held on to one another. The kiss was their way of defying fate, of letting the world know that, despite everything, they had each other for just a few seconds longer.

When they finally pulled apart, the sadness in their eyes spoke volumes. There were no words left between them. Just the quiet understanding that this was it.

“Live, Hanni,” Y/n whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “Live and make sure our fight wasn’t in vain.”

The door burst open then, rebels rushing in with news of the advancing enemy forces. Y/n’s expression hardened, and he turned to face his destiny, his posture resolute.

Hanni’s heart shattered as she was pulled away by another rebel, her eyes never leaving Y/n until the very last moment. She wanted to scream, to rush back to him, but she knew it was too late.

She fled through the dark alleys, clutching the journal to her chest, her mind a blur of grief and guilt. The sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, growing louder. She could already see the outcome, hear the cries of victory and defeat. She had read about this moment in history—she knew what would happen.

And, sure enough, it was only hours later that the news reached her. Y/n had made his last stand against the colonial authorities. He had fought with everything he had, holding the line long enough for others to escape. But he was gone now. A martyr. A hero. And yet, to Hanni, it felt like the world had just lost someone who still had so much more to give.

————————————————————

Hours passed. The safe house she had been led to was empty, save for a few other survivors. But Hanni couldn’t rest. Her fingers trembled as she opened Y/n’s journal, her heart racing as she began to read.

The pages were filled with his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams for the future. The pages chronicled not just the rebellion but the man he had been. He spoke of the reasons he fought—of his memories of his family, his longing for justice. He had written about her, too, about the unexpected presence she had brought into his life. Hanni’s heart stuttered as she read his words, feeling the weight of what he had shared with her.

“I never thought I would find someone like you in the midst of all this,” one line read. “But now, in these final moments, I know I’m not fighting just for the cause. I’m fighting for something more. For the people I care about. For the future we dream of.”

The realization hit Hanni with the force of a tidal wave. Despite everything, despite her best efforts, she had failed to save him. And yet—she was determined now. Y/n’s memory, his fight, would not be lost.

Hanni wiped her tears away and stood, holding the journal close. The mission wasn’t over. The cause wasn’t over. She would make sure of that.

————————————————————

Hanni’s resolve only grew stronger as she helped the remaining rebels organize. She used the knowledge from the future to guide them, helping them evade capture and stay one step ahead of the colonial forces. The sense of urgency never left her. Each day, the walls seemed to close in tighter. But the more she worked with the rebels, the more she saw the spark of something she hadn’t expected to find—hope. She saw the people who had once been fractured, now united, pushing forward toward freedom.

Despite the growing danger, Hanni remained close to Y/n’s former comrades, trying to ensure that his memory lived on in every small victory they achieved.

But eventually, it was clear that history would not be denied. Y/n’s death had set a course that Hanni couldn’t alter. No matter how many lives she saved, no matter how much she fought to change the outcome, there was no escaping the truth.

Y/n’s last stand had come. It had been brutal and tragic, but it had been the catalyst for the revolution to ignite across the country. Though Hanni’s heart shattered, she came to understand that some events, no matter how much we want to change them, were simply meant to unfold as they did. She had tried to rewrite history, but there were forces beyond her control—forces of sacrifice, of fate—that could not be avoided.

————————————————————

In the end, the country achieved its independence, though it came at an unimaginable cost. Hanni returned to her own time, forever altered by the journey she had taken. She had seen the complexities of history, felt the weight of decisions that shaped the future, and understood the sacrifices made by those who fought for freedom.

As she reflected on everything that had happened, Hanni realized that she had learned one of the most difficult lessons of all. The past, for all its tragedy, could never be fully rewritten. And yet, it had taught her something about the power of memory and legacy. Y/n’s fight had not been in vain. His ideals, his vision for a better world, would live on, even if he was gone.

The revolution had succeeded. And in the end, that was all he had ever wanted.

The country, though scarred, had risen from the ashes of conflict to begin anew. It was a fragile peace, but a peace nonetheless. Hanni, now back in her own time, stood at the edge of a quiet city park, gazing at the horizon as the sun dipped below the skyline.

In her hands, she still held Y/n's journal, worn and weathered by the years, but treasured more than any other possession she had. The ink had faded in places, but the words—the hope, the passion, the love for a future he would never see—remained vibrant, echoing in her heart like the pulse of a song she couldn’t forget.

Her eyes wandered to a statue in the distance, a figure standing tall, gazing forward as if daring the world to challenge it. It was a monument dedicated to the revolutionary leader who had sparked a movement that changed everything. His name was etched into the base, and while she knew it was not her place to add her own, she thought of Y/n every time she passed it.

She remembered the kiss they had shared in those final moments, the quiet promise she made to him—to live, to fight for the future he had dreamed of. She hadn’t been able to change history, but she had witnessed the change he had ignited, and that, in its own way, had been enough.

As Hanni turned to leave, the faintest sound of a melody reached her ears. It was soft, carried by the breeze—an old song, one she had heard countless times in the rebellion’s safe houses. She smiled softly to herself, knowing the song was still alive, still being sung by those who had inherited the dream Y/n and so many others had fought for.

She walked towards the source of the music, finding a small group of people gathered near the park’s center. There, under the shade of an ancient oak tree, a young couple danced. Their movements were slow and tender, as if the world had slowed just for them. A feeling of nostalgia tugged at Hanni's heart.

One of the dancers caught her eye, and the smile that spread across his face brought a lump to her throat. He was holding a violin, playing the melody that had so often comforted them in their darkest days. And there, standing beside him, was a woman who resembled someone she had once known. The woman’s eyes, shining with tears and joy, were filled with the same hopeful spirit that had driven Y/n all those years ago.

The music swelled, and the couple danced with abandon, as if the past had finally given them room to breathe. Hanni closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sound of the violin and the warmth of the evening wrap around her like a blanket.

In that moment, everything felt right. Her journey had not been in vain. She had seen the ripples of history that were shaped by the sacrifices of those who had gone before. And while she could never undo the pain of Y/n’s loss, she knew that his fight had planted the seeds for something greater than himself.

The world had continued. His world had continued. And with that thought, Hanni finally felt a peace she hadn’t known she was capable of.

As the dance finished, the couple shared a soft, lingering kiss, and Hanni found herself smiling through her tears, knowing that Y/n’s legacy was alive in every new life, every small victory, and every dream that carried the flame of freedom forward.

She stood for a moment longer, watching the stars begin to twinkle overhead. She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t bring Y/n back. But in this moment, she was sure of one thing:

The fight he had started was far from over.

And it would live on, in every heart that remembered the cost of freedom.

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pitchsidestories · 2 months ago

Text

together II Ewa Pajor x Lewandowski!Reader

masterlist I word count: 2924

a/n: dear readers, this is an angstier oneshot, so only read it when you're in the right headspace for a heavier story, take care. Little reminder that your feedback is always appreciated. 🫶🏻 🫶🏻

warnings: swearing, hints to an abusive relationship in reader's past

“Y/n? Is the dinner done? I don’t smell anything. Y/n?! You useless piece of shit.”

His curses and insults echoed around your flat in Warsaw. In a city that had to be almost completely rebuilt after the end of the Second World War, including the historic city centre, his world collapsed.

Your husband was horrified to discover that all your things were gone except for your wedding ring and a farewell letter, including the divorce papers, which you had left for him on the dining table.

With hands shaking with anger, he read what you had written.

Like your hometown, you would put your heart, which had shattered into many fragmented pieces, back together again and hopefully become happier than you were now. You had enough of him, his unruliness and his violence, the man who convinced you that you weren't good enough, even though you had always been enough.

It was just a lie to keep you down, but that was over now.

It almost felt unreal for you to sit many kilometres away from your former husband in the guestroom of your brother’s grand house in Barcelona in front of a huge mirror.

In the reflection you could see said sibling stomp impatiently his feet. “Can you hurry up now?! I don’t have all night.”

“Just a second.”, you chuckled, applying your lipstick only fuelling the older man’s impatience.

“Ugh.”, Robert rolled his eyes.

“Now we can go, idiot.”, you told him smirking.

“Excuse me? You wouldn’t even be going without this impatient idiot.”, he protested, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yes, and you wouldn’t even have a female plus one at your side because all your girls are sick.”, you reminded him, playfully hitting his upper arm with your purse.

“I’d rather not have that plus one be my own sister.”, the striker teased, rubbing the place you had hit before softly, pretending it hurt.

“Rude. I can stay here if you prefer that.”, you offered.

“No.”, the dark-haired man stated firmly.

“Let’s get it over with, shall we?”, you linked arms with your brother.

“Please.”, Robert sighed.

At the event which the Catalan club has initiated you were stunned by the amount of people attended it. Especially when your sibling had claimed that this was only the men and women’s football team.

“Wow, there are a lot of people here.”, you observed.

“Surprise?”, Robert smiled amusedly.

“Well, it’s a bit intimidating.”, you admitted nervously.

“Don’t pee yourself.”, he joked.

“Shut it. My husband is scarier than this.”, you replied, a cold shiver ran down your spine at the thought of him.

“Don’t bring him up right now.”, the striker begged. He planned the evening to be a distraction for you.

Catching the sight of something you changed the topic quickly. “Come on, time to see what the buffet has to offer.”

You dragged your bother along with you towards the food. While you studied all the different dishes, you completely missed that someone had approached your brother in the meantime.

“Oh hi.“, you heard a female voice say which caused you to look up immediately.

“Hi Ewa, great to see you again. Anything that caught your eye?”, your brother asked politely.

You frowned as you silently followed the conversation.

“The paella looks nice but oh man do I miss homemade pierogi.“, the woman smiled.

You might have been wrong but you were sure there was a slight sadness in her smile.

“Oh me too. But luckily my sister is here.“, Robert laughed, pointing towards you.

Your eyes widened, surprised that he pulled you into this conversation when all you wanted to do was grab some food.

“That gorgeous woman next to you is your sister?”, the woman that Robert introduced as Ewa exclaimed. She immediately blushed, seemingly shocked that the words had actually left her mouth.

Robert grimaced: “Yes?”

“Wow.“

You chuckled. It wasn’t everyday that people reacted that way upon meeting you. “Just to clarify, I can do more than cook pierogi and look pretty.“

“That’s impressive.“, Ewa laughed.

Robert interrupted the two of you: “Please, you’re quite impressive yourself, Ewa. I heard you’re already making a name for yourself at Barca femeni.“

She shyly tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear: “Well, I did score a few goals.“

“You did? That’s amazing.“, you commented, suddenly intrigued.

“Uhm yes.“

“Did you find it easy to settle in Barcelona?”, you asked.

Another smile flashed across her face: “Actually yes. With the help of my team mates.“

“Sounds like a perfect start.“

“It was.“

“My sister is new here too, you know.“, Robert said suddenly and you could tell from the look on his face that he was planning something.

Ewas face turned to him with curiosity: “She isn’t just here to visit?”

“No, she’ll stay here for a while actually.“, he confirmed, clearly suppressing a smirk.

“Oh great. I could show you some coffee shops. That’s what my teammates did too when I moved here.“, she suggested.

You tilted your head at her, studying her face: “You would?”

She nodded: “Sure, if you’re interested.“

“Yes, I love coffee.“

“Me too.“

There was a second of silence, just the two of you smiling at each other. Robert and the food faded into the background.

“Maybe we should exchange numbers so you can text me when you’re free?”, you suggested once your brain was no longer preoccupied with staring at her.

“Sure.“ She quickly pulled her phone from her pocket and offered it to you to type in your number. Right in time because she was quickly surrounded by her own teammates while your brother pulled you along to introduce you to too many people.

You had already forgotten their names when you got into the cab taking you back to your brothers house.

“Ewa and you…“, Robert said into the silence of the car.

You blinked at him innocently, playing dumb: “What about us?”

“You got a along well.”, he noted.

“Ewa’s very nice.”, you tried to brush his observation off.

“Nice?”, your brother raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”, you replied, trying to hide your blushed cheek with one hand, so Robert couldn’t see it. For your sibling you always have been an open book. Even in your darkest time when you tried to conceal how you really felt he saw right through your emotionless façade.

“I see.”, the striker smirked knowingly.

“You see what?”, you wanted to know in a curious tone.

“Oh nothing.”, your brother waved it off.

“Robert.”

“No.” After a pause the football player added smiling. “But she’s nice.”

“Yes, and she called me gorgeous.”, you remembered fondly.

“Of course you liked that.”, Robert said.

“I haven’t been called that for a while so yes it felt nice.”, you admitted. Unpleasant pictures you wish you could erase from your memory came back to the surface.

“You know what I think about your husband.”, your sibling hissed, his jaw tightened while he parked the car in front of the unlit house.

“I left him this time.. I’m not going back.”, you assured him. With a heavy heart you revealed the fading bruise around your neck to him.

When you closed your eyes, it brought you straight to the moment he did it, the second you thought you wouldn’t make it out here alive, luckily, he had to leave for his job and a good friend of yours helped you out of this situation. Bitterly you thought to yourself that not everyone had as much luck as you.

“He did it again?”, Robert asked, feeling the hot anger rise in him whilst he spoke.

“Yes.”, you confirmed quietly. Suddenly you were very tired from the day you experienced.

“And of course you’re not going back. I warned him the first time.”, he went on.

Once you stood in front of the guestroom door you turned your head around to face your brother. “Good night, Robbie.”

“Try to get some sleep.”, the footballer answered gently.

“You should too.”, you wore a sad smile on your lips before entering the generous bedroom where the scent of freshly washed linen filled up your nose and immediately calmed you down for the night.

A childish hope in you sparked that this might keep the bad nightmares at bay. Although you knew better than that.

You escaped the danger in person of your former husband and yet it would take some time to release the fear which has crept into your everyday life. Like your nieces when they were younger you would take baby steps to get your old confident self-back.

The nightstand lamp was on as you replayed the conversation with Ewa in your mind. You loved the way her catlike eyes lit up with excitement as she talked about the club, her teammates, the city and her love for the polish dish. It was the last thing you saw behind your eyes before you fell asleep.

Ewa was about to leave the Barcelona training grounds the next day, freshly showered and in clothes that took her hours to pick out.

With her bag in one hand, she waved goodbye to her teammates: “Sorry girls, I got to go. I’m meeting up with someone.“

Kika stopped walking next to her with a frown: “What? With who?”

“With a beautiful woman.“, Ewa admitted quietly, blushing slightly. Her skin prickled as if she had said something forbidden.

Ellie smiled at her with genuine happiness: “A date?”

“Uhm… well, I don’t know… Lewy might kill me if I’d ask her on a date.“

“Lewy?”, Kika echoed.

“Lewy as in Robert Lewandowski. He’s her brother.“, Ewa explained.

A quiet “Oh…“ escaped Kikas lips.

Ewa nodded in agreement to whatever was going through Kikas head: “Yes, exactly.“

“I think it’s worth a try.“, Ellie shrugged.

“You think so? Oh shit, I really got to go now. Otherwise I will be late.“, Ewa realized with a look at the clock on her phone screen. She hadn’t noticed how long they were standing in front of the gate talking.

She waved one last time and left.

“Have fun!”, Ellie called after her.

You were already waiting in front of the small café when Ewa arrived. She was three minutes late but smiling brightly as she caught sight of you.

“Ewa, hi.“, you greeted her and pulled her in for a quick hug.

“Hi.“

“Great to see you again.“, you said as you took her in. She looked cute in her jeans and a little cardigan. Her hair was still lightly wet and smelled like roses.

“Good to see you too.“

With all pleasantries exchanged, you walked inside the coffeeshop and straight towards the counter. Turning towards Ewa, you asked: “What coffee can I get for you?”

“A cappuccino please.“, she replied politely, appearing positively surprised by the fact that you wanted to order for her.

“Okay.“ You gave her a nod and turned back to the barista while she took a seat at a table close to the window.

You took the spot across from her, with two coffees in hand and slid one over to her: “Here you go.“

“Thank you.“, she smiled at you gratefully and took a sip.

“You’re welcome.“

You both sat there in silence for a moment, just enjoying your coffee and a little unsure about what to do next.

“So? How’s Barcelona?”, Ewa asked suddenly.

“I love it so far.“, you answered truthfully. Even though your brother was always busy, he had taken some time out of his day to show you around and you immediately understood why he never wanted to leave again.

Ewa nodded understandingly: “It’s pretty nice, right?”

“Yes, the weather is perfect.”, you replied.

“Yeah, I like that the most too.”, the forward admitted with a huge smile on her lips.

“Besides the football I guess.”, you mused.

“That’s pretty nice too.”, she admitted, one hand placed to her heated cheek.

“Maybe I should see you play at some point.”, you thought out loud, realizing her blush only intensified under your gaze.

“You’re always welcome at our games.”, Ewa remarked happily.

“That’s sweet of you.”, you muttered immensely grateful for her kindness and open-mindedness.

“I mean it. We’re always glad to have some spectators.”, she added beaming.

“I’ll be coming. Promise.”, you assured her.

“But you don’t have to.”, the striker ran nervously a hand through her now fully dried hair.

“I want to go though.”, you stated.

“Okay, of course.”, she cleared her throat.

“Of course? You still sound surprised.”, you lifted an eyebrow.

“No, I uhm… I just can’t wait for you to come and watch us.”, Ewa confessed.

“When’s your next home game?”, you asked.

“Saturday. I can get you a ticket if you’d like.”, the football player offered.

“Yes, please.”, you affirmed delighted.

“I’m taking care of it.”, she hummed.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you for wanting to come.”, the Polish women’s national team captain waved it off.

Agreeing to this almost felt forbidden, the glances you had exchanged with her during the coffee shop felt unholy.

Back in your home country you rarely saw this intimacy between two women, even if it was only in their eyes.

Here in Barcelona, you noticed that female couples were holding hands as they walked by like they weren’t afraid of other people seeing that. You admired their bravery.

Maybe Ewa was a bit shy, still the striker made clear that she very much wanted to see you again.

On Saturday the banter was on a high in the team’s changing room.

“So, she’s coming to our game today?”, Kika wiggled her dark eyebrows.

“She’s.”, Ewa confirmed.

“And you both like each other.”, Ellie observed smirking.

“Maybe we do.” A nervous laughter came from the Polish striker’s mouth.

You had seen enough football games in your lifetime to recognize that Ewa was a fantastic player. Amazed, you watched the woman and her team play.

After the match was officially over, she immediately went to find you in the stands, still a little out of breath she turned up in front of you.

“Ewa, fantastic came.”, you congratulated her.

“Thank you.”, Ewa grinned.

“I loved watching it.”, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

The football players eyes softened slightly: “You did?”

“Yes… also on your free day I’ve my brothers home to myself so you could come over to try my pierogi.“, you suggested, trying to sound as casual as possible and not like you persuaded your brother to help with your plan.

“You will make us pierogi?”, Ewa asked excitedly.

“Jep.“, you confirmed with a single nod which caused the football player to beam at you.

You could get used to that face.

A few days later, you welcomed Ewa into your brothers luxurious house. With your clothes already covered in flour, you led her to the unnecessarily huge kitchen where you had already started preparing the polish dumplings.

Once the first serving was done, you turned to Ewa who watched with careful eyes as you filled and closed the edges of the dough: “Do you want to try them?”

She nodded: “Yes please.“

You plated a few with melted butter and a dab of sour cream on the side and pushed the plate towards Ewa.

She took a bite, chewing with her eyes closed.

“And? What do you think of them?”, you asked curiously.

“Wow. They’re so good. They almost taste like the ones at home.“, the football player confirmed.

You blushed slightly. You knew everyone made theirs a bit differently so to hear they tasted like home was one of the biggest compliments you could get.

“They’re amazing.“

“Just like you.“ You paused, horrified. You didn’t know why you had said that. “Shit, I mean…“

“You mean?”, Ewa repeated, trying to coax you into explaining.

“Please forget it… I never said that to a woman. Maybe I only thought it back in Poland.“

An icy shiver ran down your spine, thinking about the situation back at home where even the thought felt forbidden.

You suddenly felt Ewas hand on yours, her thumb gently rubbing over the back of your hand: “Hey, you can say that here. I feel the same way about you.“

“But you don’t know me… not fully yet. My hus-… ex-husband, the thought I was worthless.“

Your eyes met across the table. Neither of you pulled her hand back.

“I don’t have to know what he thought about you. I only care about what I know about you.“, Ewa said, her voice was soft and quiet but she sounded sure about it.

“And what do you know?”

The corners of her mouth quirked up slightly: “That you’re very sweet and I like you lot.“

Biting your lip, you admitted: “I think the same about you to be honest…“

“See, we want the same thing.“

“Looks like we do.“

“Would it be okay if I…?”

“Yes.“, you replied before she even finished her question but from the way her gaze lowered towards your lips, you knew what she was about to ask.

“Yes?”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt you.“

She frowned: “You didn’t even know what I wanted to say.”

“Please, go on.“

“Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”, Ewa finally finished her question.

You nodded with a smile: “Very okay.“

She leaned over the counter to you and kissed you. It was gentle, warm and comforting like the pierogi that lay forgotten in front of you. It had been a long time since anything had felt so right.

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kinzhae · 1 month ago

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✦•┈๑⋅⋯Marriage Of Steel ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

In a world where power and family ties define one's worth, [Y/N], a strong-willed woman from a neglected jujutsu clan, is married off to the aloof and powerful Satoru Gojo. Alone in a lavish yet cold estate, she struggles to find her footing as she faces both the isolation of her marriage and the whispers of disrespect from those around her. Determined not to be overshadowed, [Y/N] fights to assert herself in a world that expects her to be docile, all while grappling with her growing feelings for a husband who remains distant and emotionally unreachable. -Historical Au!

This is a Gojo x Fem!Reader series, I have posted this on wattpad already if you guys want to read it here is the link. This is a historical au! This series will be written by reader's POV. Hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1

Morning sunlight filtered through the thin silk curtains, casting a soft glow over the spacious room. I lay still in bed, staring up at the intricately carved ceiling, my thoughts an unrelenting spiral.

How did I end up here?

The events of the past two weeks felt surreal, like I’d been swept into a current I couldn’t escape. An arranged marriage to the renowned Satoru Gojo of all people—the prodigy of the Gojo clan, with more influence and power than most could ever dream of. I was no stranger to responsibility or duty; my own clan had drilled it into me since birth. But nothing had prepared me for this.

For being a wife.

For being alone.

The estate was grand, more luxurious than anything I’d known, yet it felt hollow. Its vast halls and pristine gardens were unfamiliar, filled with people who barely acknowledged me—or worse, whispered behind my back. And then there was Satoru, my husband in name only. He was rarely here, always consumed by his duties or disappearing for reasons he never cared to explain.

I exhaled sharply and sat up, pushing the blankets aside. If I stayed in this bed any longer, I’d suffocate on my own frustration.

Dressed and ready for the day, I stepped into the halls, my footsteps echoing against the polished floors. I had no destination in mind, only a need to move, to shake off the weight pressing on my chest.

As I passed the sitting room, the sound of hushed voices caught my attention. I paused, listening.

“She doesn’t belong here,” a voice said, sharp and derisive.

My jaw clenched.

“She’s not fit to be the lady of this house,” the maid continued. “Walking around like she owns the place. I could do her job better than she ever could.”

“Be quiet,” another maid urged, her tone nervous. “If anyone hears you—”

“So what? It’s the truth.”

My hand tightened around the edge of the doorframe. I stepped inside deliberately, my presence cutting the conversation short. The maids froze, their faces draining of color.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I said, my voice cold. “Please, continue.”

The bold one opened her mouth, likely to deny everything, but I raised a hand to silence her.

“You think you can disrespect me in my own house?” I demanded, my tone sharp enough to make her flinch. “Do you think your position here gives you that right?”

The other maids glanced at one another, panic clear in their eyes, but the offending maid stood rooted to the spot, her face pale but defiant.

“I’ll teach you to know your place,” I said, my anger boiling over. “You—fetch me a stick. A small, sturdy one.”

The maid hesitated, but my glare sent her scurrying.

I held the stick tightly, glaring down at the maid who’d insulted me. “Hold out your hand,” I ordered.

She hesitated, trembling slightly, but didn’t move. My grip on the stick tightened. “Do it. Now.”

“Enough.”

The single word sliced through the air like a blade, its quiet authority freezing me in place. I turned sharply to see Satoru standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His butler stood just behind him, silent and composed.

“What’s going on here?” Satoru asked, his eyes flicking from me to the maid and back again.

“She insulted me,” I said firmly, lifting my chin. “I’m teaching her a lesson.”

His gaze dropped to the stick in my hand. Slowly, he approached, his footsteps measured. Without a word, he plucked the stick from my grasp, his fingers brushing against mine for the briefest moment.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly, turning his attention to the maid. “You’re dismissed. Permanently.”

The maid paled further, tears welling in her eyes as she stammered apologies. Satoru’s butler stepped forward, escorting her from the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded once the room was empty, my anger rekindling.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Satoru replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. “You don’t need to resort to... this.”

“She disrespected me,” I shot back. “I won’t let anyone treat me like I’m beneath them.”

“Respect is earned, not forced,” he said.

“Spare me the lecture,” I snapped. “You’re barely here, and when you are, you act like I don’t exist. Don’t pretend you care how I’m treated.”

His expression didn’t change, but I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—irritation, perhaps. Or guilt.

“Do what you want,” he said after a moment, turning to leave. “Just don’t cause a scandal.”

The confrontation left a bitter taste in my mouth. I stormed back to my quarters, my anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Emiko,” I called, summoning my new maid. She appeared quickly, her kind face a small comfort.

“Yes, milady?”

“We’re going out,” I announced, not bothering to mask my irritation. “Prepare the carriage.”

Emiko hesitated but nodded. As she adjusted my hair and straightened my clothes, her quiet presence calmed me slightly.

“Are you alright, milady?” she asked softly.

I glanced at her, startled by the question. “I’m fine,” I said curtly, then softened. “Thank you, Emiko.”

As the carriage pulled up to the estate gates, Satoru appeared on horseback, his arrival as inconvenient as it was imposing.

“And where are you going?” he asked, dismounting with practiced ease.

“Shopping,” I replied shortly, climbing into the carriage.

“With no escort?”

I bristled. “I don’t need an escort. I can protect myself.”

“You’re strong, I’ll give you that,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual. “But strength doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not a child, Satoru.”

“No, but you’re my wife,” he said simply. “And I won’t have anything happen to you.”

I glared at him, but his calm resolve didn’t waver. Finally, I sighed, relenting just enough to allow one of the guards to accompany me.

I grumbled as Emiko handed a note to the driver, and moments later, a young guard appeared, bowing stiffly before climbing up to sit with the driver.

“You gave in?” Emiko asked softly, settling beside me.

“Barely,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Let him think he won this time. It’s not worth the argument.”

Emiko’s lips twitched, but she wisely said nothing.

As the carriage rolled forward, I glanced out the window, catching a fleeting glimpse of Satoru riding ahead, his figure disappearing into the crowded streets.

The ride was quite bumpy, Emiko kept talking about romance novels, everytime she mentions her favorite characters her eyes lit up and her speech got more faster. I also liked to read romance book's, at my own estate before I got married I used spent a lot of times reading books or cooking secretly.

My father and my mother were not in love, so growing up I didn't get any attention from both of them. My nanny was the one who always took care of me since I was a kid, she tought me to be polite, helpful and put people in their place if they deserved it. She also used to talk about "marriage, love, bounds." which is not a familiar words for me.

Nanny Miyako and her husband who worked as a chef in our estate was madly in love with each other, whenever she was taking care of me she would tell me about her sweet marriage and how she wanted a kid of their own but that was not possible yet she never complained about it and saw me as her own kid and raised me well.

My marriage with Gojo Clan's son, Gojo Satoru was not anything special. After the wedding he just simply disappeared for his 'mission' and ever since we barely saw eachother. The breakfasts and dinners were quiet since I eat by myself, when the maid's are busy I just walk around the big estate. I wasn't really fond of the maids, gojo and I were distant so they took a chance to gossip things about me behind my back like I didn't exist there.

"Milady, we arrived." Emiko got up and hopped off the carriage easily, I glanced outside before taking her hand and getting off the carriage.

The bustling streets enveloped us as Emiko and I wandered deeper into the marketplace. The vibrant energy of the crowd, combined with the enticing displays of goods, began to chip away at the irritation I’d carried all morning. The occasional clink of coins in my pouch reminded me that this outing was mine to control. Unlike at the estate, where every move felt scrutinized or dictated, here, I had a say.

We passed by a vendor selling bolts of exquisite fabric, their rich colors catching the sunlight. Emiko gasped, tugging gently at my sleeve.

“Milady, look at this!” She pointed to a deep crimson silk embroidered with gold threads. “This would make a stunning evening gown.”

I stepped closer, running my fingers over the smooth fabric. “How much for this one?” I asked the vendor.

“For you, my lady,” he said with a practiced smile, “five ryo.”

I raised a brow at the steep price. “Four, and I’ll take two yards,” I countered.

He hesitated, clearly torn between sealing the deal and holding out for more. Finally, he nodded. “Four ryo it is.”

Reaching into my pouch, I retrieved the coins and handed them over. The transaction felt satisfying, a small but significant reminder of my independence.

Emiko watched the exchange with wide eyes. “Milady, you’re so confident. I’ve never seen someone bargain so effortlessly.”

I smiled faintly. “If you don’t know the value of something, someone else will decide it for you. That’s a lesson I learned young.”

As the vendor wrapped the fabric, I felt the familiar prickling sensation of being watched again. Turning my head slightly, I caught sight of the guard still trailing us at a discreet distance. My fingers tightened around the pouch at my waist, irritation bubbling anew.

“Let’s keep moving,” I said, my tone clipped. Emiko followed without question, her cheerful demeanor softening the edges of my frustration.

The next shop we entered was filled with sparkling jewelry, the pieces displayed under soft candlelight to enhance their brilliance. My gaze fell on a delicate necklace adorned with a single emerald, its simplicity drawing me in.

“How much for this one?” I asked.

The jeweler hesitated, sizing me up before naming a price. I didn’t bother haggling this time, simply pulling the appropriate amount from my pouch. Emiko watched with admiration as I paid, her enthusiasm almost childlike as she admired the necklace.

“It’s beautiful, milady,” she said. “It suits you perfectly.”

I held it up, watching the light catch on the emerald. “Perhaps,” I murmured, slipping it into a small velvet pouch before tucking it away.

By the time we returned to the carriage, my pouch was significantly lighter, but my mood was brighter. Emiko chattered happily as we climbed inside, her hands carefully holding the wrapped fabric.

“Do you always carry your own money, milady?” she asked as the carriage started to move.

I glanced at her, amused by the question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well,” she said hesitantly, “most ladies rely on their husbands to—”

I cut her off with a soft laugh, shaking my head. “Not me. My father may have treated me like a pawn, and my husband may not care enough to notice, but I’ll never rely on anyone to take care of me. If I want something, I’ll earn it—or pay for it myself.”

Emiko smiled, her admiration clear. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever served, milady. It’s... inspiring.”

Her words were a small comfort, a reassurance that even in a world where I often felt unseen.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯Chapter 2⋯⋅๑┈•✦

#jjk angst #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #angst #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jjk smau #historical au #arranged marriage

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sweetblossomsss · 2 months ago

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Behind The Mask || Kang Yeosang

Synopsis: A cold-blooded, masked king appoints you, a new personal servant. He expects obedience—not the stirrings of emotions to his long-buried heart. Your calm and soft presence softens something within him. His most dangerous dangerous battle? Dressing up as a mere guard and the risk of opening his heart to you because he has fallen for you.

Word Count: 20K. Started: 2022est. Finished: Nov. 11, 2024

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, happy ending, angsty, lots of killing, stabbing, blood, death (none main character), Y/N really can't tell he is the guard, very very sweet lovely dovey moments, historic era, smut, one shot, Y/N gets hurt at one point, if I'm missing anything let me know!

Blossom's Note: This story had me twirling my hair as I kicked my feet and all I saw Yeosang saying "blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff." How are my petals? I know its been a while. I'm sorry for disappearing. School and work consumed my time. Yes this story took two years because writers block SUCK and ofc school and work. I hope you all enjoy this story. I hold this story close to my heart. Now without further ado, grab a drink and popcorn and read on!

—

There he was, the one and only cold blooded king, sat upon this golden with different color rare gems, dragon like throne. Draped in the finest silk robe that adorned red and gold outlines of dragons patterns that just exuded majesty.

His long luscious black hair half up while the down part rests in front of his shoulders. His mask, dark blue with intricate golden designs concealed his features, leaving his piercing brown eyes visible through the narrow slits. His fingers accessorized in hand made green and red jade rings.

The room is filled with tension as his courtiers and advisors, who are also dressed in their finest, maintain a distance around him as they flicker their sight from him to the grand entrance of the royal palace. “Bring her in.” His cold voice slices the silence.

The doors opened, walking in was a guard gripping your arm, forcing you to walk into the room as you stumbled trying to keep up. When the guard let go of your arm, you instinctively fell onto your knees and bowed 'til your forehead touched the floor, “Your majesty.” You say greeting him with the upmost respect.

Your disheveled, covered in dirt appearance made you feel ashamed and embarrassed to be in the same room as him. You stayed down until he gave you the commanded. “Rise,” you heard him say. You lift your head up and slowly stand, eyes remaining on the floor. "Look at me."

Your breath hitched when your eyes first laid on him. The way he sat upon the throne was absolutely captivating. You always wondered who was the man behind the mask. “Why are you here?” His voice echoed in the room.

“I-I’m here to serve, Your Majesty.” You stuttered, nervously swallowing. You felt the sweat beads forming on your forehead as he intensely stares at you.

His eyes remain cold. “I was told that you were one of the few who were sold to the palace.” he said, remembering what his advisors told him.

You nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty,” you answered him, feeling your heart pounding up to your ears. “I’m all alone, as I have no family. They told me to either work at the palace or face a worse fate.”

He stays quiet, studying you for a moment before speaking. “My last servant was removed for incompetence,” He said, feeling the color of your face drain, not liking where this is going. “You are appointed to be my new personal servant.”

You widened your eyes, hesitant before speaking up., taking a small step forward. “Your Majesty, I’m afraid that I do not know how to perform such task properly. I'm afraid I cannot-”

An advisor twisted his face in disgust cutting you off. “You dare question the King’s judgement? You should be ashamed of yourself. It’s an honor to serve the King.” His voice dripping with disdain.

Your mouth parted as you looked at the advisor, "N-No," You looked back at the King gasping as you quickly dropped to the floor, bowing down as you felt your heart sink. "No, Your Majesty, please forgive me. I just-“

“Such insolence will not be tolerated.” The advisor cuts you off as he takes a step forward to you, waving his hand around.

“Silence!” You heard the King yell, making everyone flinch at his voice booming within the room. He glared at the advisor who shrinks under his stare as he moves back to his spot, looking down. “Let her speak." He said fed up with the advisor interrupting you.

The King sighed, trying to calm down his frustrations. "She has acknowledged her shortcomings and is willing to change it. I will give her the opportunity to prove herself to me that she is capable.” He said looking all of his advisors in the room to which they nodded.

You felt yourself shaking in fright, breathing shakily as you had your eyes shut tightly. “Rise,” he commands you and you quickly rise up, looking at him. “Let me make it clear to you. Do make any further errors and it won’t be forgiven so easily. Understood?” he asks you.

Trust that it was a promise, not a threat.

You nodded quickly, swallowing feeling your throat dry. “Yes, Your Mastery.” You said, “I understand my responsibility and will do my utmost to fulfill it correctly.”

His eyes remained lingering on you for a moment, “Dismissed.” He said, leaning back in his chair.

The same guard from before moved from his position, walking up to you and grabbing your arm as he took you away. As you were being dragged away, you looked back and bowed at the King, having eye contact with him before looking forward.

He doesn't know why but there was something about you that had captivated him within minutes. He stared at you, watching you being dragged away until the main doors shut close.

______

After the audience with the king, the guard guided you to where you’ll be living from now on. It was a small, modest house that was right outside of the royal palace but still within the boundaries that separates the place grounds and city. Something interesting to note was that the King’s chamber window was in a clear view of you.

After you finish settling in, you went outside to take a moment to admire your surroundings. The house was nestled by a gentle stream that makes a melodic tranquil noise as the water flows by. Bright lanterns that are strategically placed alone a path and around the house that casts a beautiful yellow glow. Watching the petals of the cherry blossom trees, that are boarded around giving a sense of privacy, fall down as the wind shakes them.

You closed your eyes, turning to where the wind’s direction feeling it blowing through your hair as you take in a deep breath, smelling the nature around you. From afar the King watches in secret not knowing why he was watching. His thoughts were unreadable.

You opened your eyes, feeling a strange sensation of being watched. You turned and viewed the window, thinking someone is there. You could’ve sworn you saw a shadow but once your sight adjusted nothing was there, just the curtains being swayed by the breeze.

In the room the King had quickly stepped back, feeling a bit panicked. He gained his composure before slowly peaking his head out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of you again, but alas you went into the house.

____

The morning sun was starting to peak in as you inhaled and exhaled a deep breath, calming your nerves as you approached the King’s chamber door. You ran a hand down your black robe, a red dragon design outline on your right shoulder, trying to straighten it out before raising your hand to the door, gently knocking. “Your Majesty,” you called out. “I have arrived to help with your morning preparations.”

His deep voice rang muffled, “Come in.” You opened the door stepping into the dimly lighted room as you saw him sitting on a small cushioned bench by the open window, giving you his back. His posture up straight as his hands rested on his thighs.

“Be warned,” he said in his cold authoritative tone causing you to freeze in your step. “My mask will be off as you fix my hair. If you so much attempt to look at my face, you will be punished by death.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You say, feeling your throat hitch. You make your way to him, hearing the creak of the wood in every step. You’ve heard about the consequences of seeing the king’s face, many have fallen to them. You’ve heard about people sneaking in to see his face, or coming up to him to rip the mask off.

For the longest time, there has been a standing tradition for royals, in this kingdom, to wear masks to ensure their protection and to keep their identities hidden, that includes their name as well. The name chosen for this king was Dragon. It was to symbolize his power and aura.

As you approached, your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his back. Deep, and some faded, rooted scars were etched across his back. What caught the most attention was one that ran from his right shoulder across the lower back. You couldn’t help but to feel empathy, heartbroken even. Who could do such a cruel thing?

Nonetheless, you kept your composure. You grabbed the brush, ready to start with the preparations. Feeling your longing stare of his back, he shifted slightly in his seat. “Are you ready to begin?” He asked with an underlying edge but stayed calm.

You cleared your throat, “Yes, Your Majesty.” Your hands moved with gentleness as you stroke his beautiful silky black hair. Each pass was tender, smooth as you were able to detangle without any discomfort. Your hands moved skillfully, slow trying to avoid any abrupt movements.

Diving his hair horizontally, you expertly twisted his upper half of hair into a neat bun, pushing in a golden dragon hairpin as the lower part of his hair cascades down his back, tangled free as you ran your fingers through. You grabbed his mask, “Your Majesty,” calling to his attention, “I will now be placing your mask.”

He remains quiet as you gently position the mask over his face. He raises his hand to hold in place the mask as you adjust the strings behind his head, making sure it’s completely secure but not too tight.

When you finished with the mask, you had accidentally grazed the big scar with your finger tip as you were fixing the bottom half of his hair. The next thing you know, he turned around with fury in his eyes, “what do you think you’re doing touching me like that?” he said with irritation hanging off his voice as he gripped your wrist.

Through the slits of the mask you saw his eyes flashing with anger and defensiveness. “Y-Your Majesty,” you say, trying to keep your composure. The death grip on your wrist was hurting you. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to cause you discomfort. It was purely accidental. I’m so sorry.” You trembled in your words, trying not to cry.

When he sees your genuine reaction something inside him shifts quickly. He lets go of your wrist, making you gasp at the release, and takes a step back. He closes his eyes, telling himself that it’s okay, he’s in no danger. “Just finish helping me get dressed.” His voice sounded a bit strained but controlled.

He sits back down only this time he remains stiff as a board, hyper-aware of his surroundings as if he is expecting to be attacked. He just wants this to be over with already.

Your demeanor remains apologetic and respectful as you continued with your job. With every gentle touch you gave, he would tense at it. You felt so much remorse, but not much could be done. You take a step back once you finished, “Your Majesty, I have finished.” You bowed slightly.

“You may go.” He said, still giving you his back. You walked to the door, reaching for the handle but hesitated. You turned back wanting to say something to ease the tension between you two, but you knew it wasn’t your place. You bowed once more and left the room.

When he heard the door close, he hunched over leaning his arms on his thighs to support his weight. His mind started racing with all these conflicting emotions, feeling like he can hear people talking to him, sounds from battles—everything was talking over him. He yells as he looses control, ripping his mask off and throwing it to the wall.

He breaths heavy, looking at the mask that split into two from the impact. The once silent room was suddenly filled by his faintly, anguished sobs as he falls to his knees feeling defeated. He hated how damaged he was inside and outside. The loneliness took over him as he cried all alone.

______

After that whole disaster, you barely saw him today. You figured he was occupied with his work, not really needing you. It was later in the evening and here you are in the laundry room. The fire on the torch illuminated the room as you worked on his clothes.

You paused for a second, using your arm sleeve to wipe the sweat beads on your forehead before going back to scrubbing the brush against the clothes. Slowly, your washing subsided as the memory from earlier creeped in.

Dropping the brush into the bucket, hearing the clank, you sighed. "How could I do something so stupid," You threw your face into your hands, feeling ashamed, embarrassed. "On my first day, nonetheless."

You rubbed your forehead, staring at your wrist. The adrenaline that was running in you in that moment must've suppressed the full pain because you didn't think your wrist would've bruised up. You moved your wrist around, feeling it just a bit achy.

You shook your head, trying to forget the interaction as you went back to work. "Can't change the past." You tell yourself as you stood up, stretching your neck and back. Your surprise he didn't kill you in that moment considering what he told you the day before.

You bent down, grabbing a wooden basked full of wet clothes by the handles and stepped outside. Feeling the evening breeze, you inhaled the fresh air. You walked to the clothesline, dropping the bowl near your feet, grabbing some clothes and wringing them of the excess water, making sure nothing is soaked up.

As you were placing the clothes and adjusting them to spread out to evenly dry, a young boy who was barely in his teens approaches you. "M-Ma'am," he said nervously as he fumbled with his hands, "The King is asking for fresh garments immediately." he said.

You smiled at him, trying to ease his nerves. He must've been sold as well, so young. "I'll go right now." You say as you finished hanging some clothes, grabbing the now empty bowl and leaning it on your hip for support.

You watched as the young boy nodded and ran away. You looked back at the clothes, checking to make sure everything was okay before gathering fresh garments and heading up to his chambers.

—

As his door came into your view, you started to feel your palms sweaty. Your heart was racing with the memory of this morning. When you arrived you raised your hand, hesitating to knock. When you did you heard him say to come in a few second after.

When you walked in, you saw him standing near the window, his silhouette highlighted by the moonlight, making him look so ethereal. "Your Majesty, I have your fresh garments."

He turns around with his mask on and nods, acknowledging you. You headed to his bed, separating each piece of clothing in an organized manner. You bit your lips, in concentration as you made sure the shirts and pants were laid down flat. “Is there anything else you need- oh!”

You yelped in shock, placing a hand over your chest when you realize that he was standing closely behind you. You let out a breath, “I’m so sorry. I did not see you there, Your Majesty.”

But he stays silent, looking at your wrist tilting his head to the side as he reaches out and examines it. You felt your heart racing when he looks at you, “Did I do this?” He asked and then looks back down, turn your hand over to see the bruising.

You gulped in nerves, slightly taken aback that he was concerned. “I-Uh-“ You fumbled with your words, afraid to tell him the truth not wanting to get him upset. “No. No your majesty, I accidentally-“

His eyes stared into yours, his eyes reading don’t come up with a pathetic lie. “Answer me truthfully,” he cuts you off, your wrist still in his hands. “Did I cause this?”

You bowed your head, sighing in defeat. “Yes, Your Majesty.” You looked back up at his eyes, “But it was not your fault. I mistakenly touched you so I deserve it and any other punishment you might give.”

Behind the mask, sorrow was written on his face. His eyes flashing with regret for a slight moment before returning normal. “I-…. I apologize.” The words felt so foreign on his tongue. “I did not mean to hurt you.” He doesn't know why he is apologizing, let alone even concerned for your well being.

Your mouth slightly dropped as you blinked a few times. Did you mishear him? “No. You do not have to apologize. It was all my fault, I reassure you.” You said to him. “I should’ve been more careful.”

First day on the job and you had the king acting like this? He has no idea who, what, why, or how you have a way to make him feel things within him. Never in the years he’s been living has he ever apologized. So what makes you so different?

You two shared a moment before he cleared his throat, releasing your wrist gently. “Just be careful in the future.” He looked away, feeling uncomfortable with the energy in the room. You watched as he walked to the window, “You are dismissed.” He turned his head to the side to tell you before looking back out.

You bowed, “Yes, your Majesty.” You turned and quickly left the room, gently closing the door as you leaned your back on it letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. You raised your wrist that he held, still able to feel his touch as your felt your heart doing leaps.

Meanwhile in the room, Yeosang was looking at his hand trying to remember the softness of your skin. His mind was running with a million of questions but the main one was; Who are you to be making him feel out of character?

—

It has been weeks now since that interaction with the King, and to say he has been maintain his distance from you is an understatement. Yes, you are his personal servant, yes, you two communicate a lot but even in the same room as him he feels so far.

Yeosang made it a mission to push these feelings, I guess you can call it, to the side. He never showed concerned for your bruised wrist, but he won’t lie that it pained him a bit when he saw you wincing in pain when you did a sudden movement or when it was in the healing stages how the yellow looked frightening.

He never showed any further signs of compassion or concern. Just his normal cold self and commands with the same detachment. You have seen the side of when he gets angry at his advisors during meetings or when they arrive with bad news or when they mess something up. There are times you flinch at his voice when he yells at them. Don’t even get started when it comes to his army. The physical torture he puts his men through to get stronger is not for the weak. But do not think for a second that he is not participating, oh, he very much is.

The many times you have seen him go into practice fights with his men, to which they end up passing out with broken noses, eyes swollen, blood all over there faces as you stand off to the side, holding his robe, waiting for him to finish up. The many times you have stood in the rain watching him and his men move with practice movements in synchrony.

But no matter how much he tries to shove those feelings to the side, he can’t help it when he sees you. For example, you have become an expert in reading his body language, trying to find ways to calm him down during meetings whether it is water, or collecting paper he has thrown in an angry fit, planning the meals that will bring him comfort after a rough day or the way you stand in the rain and run to him with an umbrella, draping his robe over drench shirtless body, having a warm bath prepped for him already. Just little things to big things that add up.

You have yet to see the brutal side that you have heard. But you couldn't help but wonder, what laid behind the mask. Not just the physical aspect but the emotional part. Why did he keep his emotions in a distance. Do you think you guys will share a moment once more?

The bright midnight moon lit your path as you wandered throughout the palace's garden, deep in thought. You ran your fingertips on the bloomed roses, watching them move from the movement as you walked by them. Coming across a stone bench that was stationed in front of the fountain, you take a seat.

You looked at the statue that stands in the center of the fountain, admiring the how the the man holds the woman in a embrace full of passion as she stares at him with eyes full of love. How can someone capture such tenderness and deep affection on stone. The glow from the moon casts on the statue, making it even more enchanting.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A deep voice rang from the side. You turned to face where the voice was coming from and you spotted a man dressed in a guard uniform.

You smiled at the man, half of his face was illuminated by the moonlight as he leaned on a stone wall, arms crossed. "Very beautiful." You say looking back at the statue then to him, "I wasn't expecting to see anyone at this hour, but I'm glad I have company."

He smirks, "Glad to be of company." He said, pushing himself off the wall. "You know," He said, walking to you, "there's a story behind the statue," he extends his hand out to you, "if you're curious."

You smiled as your gaze jumped between him and his hand. "Do tell." You said, grabbing his hand feeling some rough patches on his hand. Wow, there was no denying that this man was handsome. You took this time to take in his features.

He had a heaven painted birthmark on his left eye, enchasing his piercing stare. The way the moonlight defined his cheekbones, giving him a sharp look. His eyes, for some reason, looked familiar but also striking.

He gives you a small twirl, making your heart leap at the gesture. He places your hand on his arm as he guides the way through the garden. "Well, this statue represents a love story from many, many years ago," he starts off, "The couple were from different social classes, much of the tales of forbidden lovers."

You stared at him in curiosity, his voice entrancing. "They met in this very garden, in secret, away from prying eyes of the palace, society," He said, grabbing your arm pulling you down in some bushes, "Everybody." It was in perfect timing because a guard walks by, looking side to side making sure the coast is clear, oblivious to you two.

When he sees him out of sight he goes on, "The woman came from the royal family, a noblewoman bounded to another man," he says, holding your arms, helping you get up, "While the man she truly loved was a no one, dirt poor, mere gardener."

You're so captivated by the story, you stare at him in awe. He goes on guiding you both on the path from before, "They were so deeply in love, felt like just them two in the whole universe. But from the start..." he paused in the story, looking at you watching your eyes full of curiosity, "There relationship was cursed."

You gasped slightly, eyes widened at the sentence, "No." you said fully engrossed into the story.

The man chuckled at your reaction, liking how your reacting. "But despite all the odds that came at them, they never gave up on one another, still visiting each other in the garden." he said.

No words can describe the way your heart is feeling as you watched him passionately describe the story. He finally stops, turning you as he slowly one by one takes your hands into his, "One night they decided to runaway together." he looks down with a hint of sadness, "But fate was not kind as they were discovered. Everyone saying their love deemed a threat."

He then turns you to face the fountain, your eyes widening at the sight. "They were separated and never saw each other again." He whispered in your ear, behind you. The angle he put you in brought the beauty out of the statue in its most perfect form. The garden surrounded the statue while the full moon shined behind the figure which was breathtaking.

But you couldn't help but to feel heartbroken for the couple. "That's so tragic. I can't fathom the pain they must've gone through." you said, processing the story.

"It is," he says, getting in front of you as he smells a rose he had plucked from a nearby bush. "The king at the time authorized this statue as a tribute to their love." He said placing it in your hair, "A reminder that love can leave a lasting impact."

You felt butterflies in your stomach, seeing him now take position of the statue with the moon behind him now. He looked like he was spotlight of the garden. "May I be honored to know the name of the enchanting lady who has captivated my heart this evening?" he asks, smirking.

You felt yourself blushing as chuckled at him, "I'm Y/N," you said, blushing a bit. "And who might you be?"

He stays silent as he gives you a smile, “if you return, then I’ll give you my name.” He grabs your hand and places a tender kiss, “Until then I must take my leave.”

You felt a bit frustrated with him mystery man, but you couldn’t help but to feel excited to see him again. You watched as he walked away, “W-Wait!” You called out to him and you reached your hand out to stop him, “When will I see you again? When do I come back?”

“You’ll know.” He said as he winks at you, smirking before leaving. You placed a hand on your hip, feeling frustrated even more, “Well, that doesn’t help.” You said out loud to yourself. You then grabbed the rose in your hair and smiled at it as you smelled it, walking home.

—

Meanwhile quicken steps can be heard against the floor as they made steps to the King’s chamber. The door opens and shuts in a hurry as Yeosang leans his back against the door, trying to catch his breath.

He then looks at the window, pushing himself off the door as he makes his way to it. He peaks out to and catches a glimpse of you admiring the rose in your hand as you sat upon the steps of your house. You smelled it once more before breaking out into a smile, feeling a giddy inside.

He watches you get up and head inside for the night. He sighs as he moves to his bed and sits at the edge of it. What compelled him to dress up as a guard and talk to you in such ways he never imagined he could do was beyond him. You captured him and he wants to figure out why he had fond feelings for you.

He feels a sense of anticipation, wanting to see again but as himself as Yeosang, not as the King. You consumed his thoughts. From the way you touched him with tenderness to the way you carry yourself with effortless grace. He laid down on the bed, looking up to the ceiling. "What am I doing?" he spoke to himself.

—

The soft sunlight casted on your skin, your eyes squinted as the sun shines brightly while you walked alongside the King and his guards, roaming around in the city. You took in the scene before you as vendors called to bystanders to try out or look at what they were selling. The sound of children laughing and running as they played with their friends through the crowds while the rest of the town-folks went about their day.

You then spotted a couple who were laughing together as they held hands, looking at the stalls full of jewelry. It reminded you of the mystery man from the garden, that you have yet to see again. Partly because you have just been so busy with your responsibilities and you’ve just been so exhausted.

It has been a couple of days since you last saw him, hopefully he doesn’t think anything bad of you since you haven’t gone back. You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle when you picture him telling you the story. “Something on your mind?” You heard the King ask you making you jump out of your thoughts.

Yeosang had noticed the way you stared at the couple, making you lose yourself in thought. He matched your pace in walking so he can spark a conversation. “Oh,” you smiled, “It’s nothing, Your Majesty.” You tell him, shaking your head.

“Interesting.” He said, as he waved back at the people who bowed and waved at him. Despite his cold demeanor and angry side, he truly cared for his people, wanting to ensure the best for them. “This nothing has you smiling.”

You bit your lower lip, biting back a smile as you felt butterflies in your stomach. “Yes indeed.” You say softly, looking down. “He does.” You whispered that part yourself but Yeosang heard it. He felt his heart flutter at your words.

The silence takes over you two. Still lost in your thoughts, you fail to notice children, who sneakily ran through the guards to approach you. You felt a tug on your shirt, causing you to look down, “Hi there,” you smiled, kneeling down to their height, “how can I help you?”

They looked at each other giggling then back at you, handing you a toy inviting you to play. “Oh, wow!” You gasped in admiration. You looked at the King who nodded his head in approval. “Stay with her, keep her safe.” The King ordered two guards who stood by you as you played with the kids. You couldn’t help but to smile as you played with them, taking in this moment of happiness.

Yeosang went ahead, looking at the stalls, seeing what the vender’s were selling. He then sees a table full of beautifully crafted hairpins, captivated by the designs and gems gleaming as the sun shines over them. When he approached, he saw the owner, an old lady, struggling to get up to greet him. “Please.” He held his hand up to stop her.

She smiles as he bows as best as she can, “Your Majesty,” she said softly, adjusting herself in her seat. “It is an honor. How may I serve you?” She asked, gesturing at her table with her hand.

He doesn’t reply just yet. Instead, he gazed at the variety of hairpins laid out in front of him. He can tell that each piece was delicately and intricately made. “These are beautiful.” He spoke as he looks at her, “Did you craft them yourself?”

She hums at him, smiling. “Yes, all handmade your Majesty. Thank you.” She watched as his eyes roamed all over until his eyes landed on a beautiful red rose hairpin. Behind the mask, his mouth opens in awe as he grabs it, examining the beauty of it. This is the one for you.

It was the perfect replica of the rose he gave you that night. He then turns to look at you in the distance, watching you tickling the kids as they fall into your embrace, full of laughter. He’s mesmerized at how your beauty shines more when you laugh. Behind the mask, he smiles at the sight of you.

“My husband use to look at me like that.” The old lady said full of warmth and nostalgia as she looks between you and him.

His eyes widened as he turned to look at her in shock, “W-What do you mean?” He said, stuttering feeling as he was caught red handed. Was it that obvious?

She chuckled gently, “Your Majesty, forgive me,” she said leaning forward causing him to lean in as well, “No mask can hide the eyes of love. Not even the coldest exterior can conceal what the heart truly feels.”

He lets out a low laugh, which makes the old lady be in shock before laughing with him. The cold king can laugh? “There is something about her that calls to me.” He tells her, feeling happy he can let this out of his chest. “Thank you for your wisdom and courage. Not many can talk to me in that way. It’s rare to find someone who can see so clear.”

He hands her the pin. “I would like to purchase this one.” He tells her and she grabs it as she wraps in a red handkerchief. “How much will it be?”

She shook her head, holding her hand out to stop him. “Free of charge. Anything for you, your Majesty.” She hands it to him, smiling.

“How much is it-“

“Young man-“

“Young man? You know I am the King, correct?”

“I am older than you. Respect the elders, correct?” The woman hits back at him. No one would ever speak to the King like this but he likes how she treats him as if that’s her grandson.

He tilts his head to the side as if saying try me as he extends his hand out signaling for his guard to give him the pouch full of coins. He places the pouch on the table, pushing it closer to her. “All yours.” He said, smirking behind the mask.

She looked at the pouch and gasped at the kind gesture. There was no way she felt comfortable taking that amount of money, “Your Majesty-“

“Please. You work so hard, you deserve it. Besides, it’s been a while since I was scolded like how my grandmother did. You remind me of her.” He said as he tucked the handkerchief away in his robe, making sure it’s safe.

She bowed and repeatedly thanked him as he walked away. He walked to your direction, watching your rise up from your feet, dusting off the dirt from your pants and hands as the children scampered off. Your face radiating a glow from the brief interaction with the kids. “The children really enjoyed your company.” He chimed in as you walked alongside him, feeling a huge shift in his demeanor, seeming more relaxed.

You looked at him with a smile, fucking some hair behind your ear, “Oh, they were just delightful.” You said, “I enjoyed spending my time with them.”

“It was a beautiful sight.” He mumbled to himself, looking ahead.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “I’m sorry your Majesty, did you say something?” You asked him.

He shook his head and let the silence take over once more. You didn’t question him. But behind the mask he was sweating bullets. Did he really speak his thoughts out loud?

—

It was getting late, deeming it time to go back to the palace. The King had mentioned it to the guards that it was time to leave, but in reality Yeosang has been wanting to see you again in the garden, in hopes of giving you your gift.

Just as you all were about to leave, a sudden commotion erupted. Everyone within the group froze, turning around quickly to examine what was happening. You see fellow townsfolk staring at where the sound was coming from but soon shifted to them running away as a group of masked men dressed in black charged through the stalls.

They were jumping on the stalls, smashing goods, overturning stalls in their path—panic was surging quickly as the crowd started to push one another to leave the scene as terrified screams radiated from them. You frantically looked around, watching people pass you as the guards tightened the circle around the king and you.

You felt the once relaxed demeanor shift into a protective one as the King grabs your arm, holding you close behind him. His eyes darkened when he sees the incoming masked men, “Y/N,” his voice rang in your ears, “stand behind me.”

You nodded, trembling in fright. “Yes your Majesty.” The sounds of the swords unsheathing made you more into a nervous wreck. Soon enough the king’s guard stepped into action, hearing the clashing of swords as you heard yelling from both sides.

One assailant stepped up to the king, which instinctively caused you to take a step back, trying to rip the King’s mask off his face. Your eyes widened at the action making you gasp as you covered your mouth with your hand.

The king was faster than him. He sidesteps, grabbing the man’s stretched out arm, giving it a twist and forced it upwards. A nasty pop sounded in his arm causing the man to scream in agony. Yeosang shoved him to the floor, turning to fight another attacker.

Without hesitation, he leaped into action using hand to hand combat skills, bringing down enemies. The precision and strength he had was able to tackle many of them down, one after another. You slowly backed away from them, scared to be caught up in the middle.

You then bumped into something, causing you to turn around to see an assailant, tilting his head side to side, almost as if a snake in trance, wondering what he is doing to do to you. You wasted no time turning to run away, but he was fast. He grabbed a fist full of your hair as he dragged you down to the floor, dragging you by your hair.

You held your hands onto his wrist, screaming in pain as your scalp burned. “Let me go!” You yelled at to him as you tried slapping or punching his hand. He roughly lets go as he gets on top of you, backhanding you causing you to slightly lose your consciousness as you felt the corner of your lip bleed by the impact.

You looked to the side, seeing the king fighting as your vision gets blurred. You then feel the weight of the attacker on you as he placed his hands on your neck, starting to choke you out. “Please..” you whispered with whatever breath you had left.

You clawed his hands in struggled desperation. Panic surged through you as your vision blacked out little by little as your fighting is subsiding slowly. Amidst in his own fight, from the corner of his eye Yeosang saw what was happening to you. His heart was racing when he saw your hands drop, closing your eyes. Something within him exploded at that sight as he quickly dispatched the guy he was grapping with, twisting the man’s neck as he killed him.

Yeosang takes out a blade he keeps hidden within his robe and in a swift motion and precise throw, he hurls it to the back of the head of the attacker. He watched as the attacker stiffens and then falls on top of you as blood spews from the back of his head.

Yeosang quickly runs to you, shoving the man off of you as he holds you in his embrace. “Y/N,” he said, tapping with some force on your face to wake you up, “Come on, wake up, wake up,” his voice trembled with fear, “please, Y/N. Wake up..”

You then shot your eyes open, gasping in shock as your hands shot out keep pushing the man off of you but he wasn’t there anymore. Your throat felt raw and burned as you coughed. You felt a hand on your face causing you to jump in fright as you shoved them off of you. “Hey, Y/N it’s okay!” You heard a familiar voice. “Y/N, it’s me.”

You looked at the king in fright. “Your Majesty-What-,” you cut yourself off as you looked around, “What happened?” You asked him as you looked down at your blood stained clothes and the dead body with the blade behind its head. “Oh my god.” You gasped as you looked away.

“Look at me, Y/N,” the King helps you up as he cups your face, “You’re okay.” He reassured you as you nodded at his words, feeling dizzy as you tried looking into his eyes. “It’s over. It’s over.” He cleans up your fallen tears, you didn’t even notice you were crying, with his thumbs. “It’s over.” He tells you once more.

His guards were able to take control of the situation. The danger was finally over, but the encounter had left a mark on everyone. “Call for more guards, we are going to clean up this whole mess, aid those who got hurt. Imprison all the assailants, I’ll handle the rest in there.” He told his guards, his eyes never leaving your face as you looked at your surroundings. In unison bowed, giving a strong yes sir.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said as you nodded at him as you walked back to the palace, hand placed on your back as he guided you. He’s going to take care of you right now, forget the responsibilities you two hold right now.

—

The dimly lit prison was heavy with tension as the sounds of the assailants muffled whimpering, groans of pains filled the ears of everyone in the room. You watched as they trembled in fear, faces now in display with swollen, bloody, beaten up features as all the mouths were gagged with a black cloth while others cold dead on the floor.

You said that you never saw the brutal side of the king tonight was the night that changed everything. Surrounding the room were the palace guards that were holding stern faces, barely illuminated by the flickering torchlights as they stood in the position of attention. You stood in the middle, up against the wall away from the king and the prisoners, watching how he slowly removes his regal robe as he approached the weapons table.

You swallowed nervously, looking down feeling afraid of what he’s going to do next. He dropped his blood stained silk robe on the floor, reaching for a rag on the table to dry off his hands full of blood. His back scars on display for everyone to see. His arms reach over to grab a knife, getting lost in thought as he moves it around, watching it gleam from the light.

You slowly lifted your gaze at him, watching him drop his arm, standing still as he stared ahead to the wall in front of him. His eyes flickered with void, behind the mask his expression was darkening, feeling the surge of anger coming over him. His people were in danger— you were in danger. He could never live with the fact that he let you get hurt.

“I’ll ask again,” his deep voice rang in the room causing the prisoners to whimper in fright. “Who sent you?” He turned around and faced them, causing them to widen their eyes in terror as some had tears falling down.

As he walked closer, the whimpering grew louder, a desperate plea for mercy. Some shook their head in disbelief as others begged with a muffled cry. Yeosang takes calculated movements, watching them as if they are his preys. You gulped as you watched this new side of him take over him.

You let out a shaky breath when you see him kneeling down to one of them, using the tip of his knife to raise his chin to look at him in the eyes. “You,” he said. “Things will go smoothly if you just comply with me. Who sent you here?”

The man shook his head as he tried speaking through the cloth that covered his mouth. “Shhh,” he hushed the man as he lifted the knife to the cloth, shoving the knife underneath it and he cut apart letting the man speak freely. “Speak.” He demanded.

“P-Please have m-mercy on me.” The man cried out to him as he bowed his head. Yeosang just laughs in his face. “Mercy?” Yeosang repeated, with a wicked smile behind the mask, “Mercy you asked of me? When you attacked my kingdom?”

The man whimpered when Yeosang drags the knife down from his temple to his jaw, not too deep but enough to draw blood, “Please, your majesty forgive me.” He pleads with him, closing his eyes tight in fear.

“Okay.” Yeosang said nonchalantly, looking at him with darkness in his eyes. The man parted his mouth in disbelief as he looked at him with widen eyes, “O-Okay?” He questioned. Yeosang placed a hand on his chin for support as he shrugged, nodding his head, “Okay.” He confirmed.

The attacker let out a breath of relief, guard coming down. Yeosang took the chance to jab the knife into his throat causing you to look away as if you’re going to throw up. “All is forgiven.” He said as he watched the knife slide out the man’s neck as he drops to his side, blood oozing out.

You closed your eyes as you heard the man struggling to breathe. You felt tears dwelling in your eyes, wanting to leave this place. You inhaled a sharp breath as you looked back at the king, feeling scared when you see the king stand up in frustration.

The king has been going at this with hours and nothing has yet to come. His patience, as you can tell, is wearing thin at this point. “Maybe we should try a new question?” He said as he flips the knife in his hand. “Which one of you is the leader?” He asked, pointing the knife at them.

The men shared panicked glances, but not daring to snitch on who it is. Yeosang’s jaw tightened, feeling angry again. But he tried to not let it affect him as he carefully looked over at the men, stopping at one who is particularly shrinking in his spot as he looked down, shaking a bit side to side.

Yeosang approached him as he grabbed a fist full of hair and yanked his head up to face him as he knelt down in front of him. “It’s you, isn’t it?” He tilted his head. He removed the cloth from his mouth but the man was too afraid with fear caught in throat. Holding the knife to his jaw, “Speak. Or should I slit the answer out of you?” He asked pressed the side of the knife into his neck.

“No, wait!” The man spoke out with widen eyes, “it’s him!” His eyes pointed to the man next to him which causes the man to yell at him, muffled. “He’s the one you want.” The man guided Yeosang with his elbow. “P-Please..”

Yeosang smile widens as he let go of the man's hair, standing up as he towers over the man next to him. “Finally,” The way he stood over him like a shadow of death. "Why don’t we start again, mmm?" he tilts his head to the side at him. The man frantically looks all over the room, trying to find an escape. Yeosang lets out a evil laugh that gave you chills down your spine, "Try all you want. There's no escape."

In a swift moment, he gets behind him, grabbing a fist full of hair as he pressed the knife shading the man’s throat. The man shivered as he closed his eyes pleading for someone to rescue him. “You hurt my people,” he whispered in his ear, “You hurt someone I care about.” He said as he looked at you.

You didn’t know what the king was whispering in his ear, but what you do know is that you froze in fright when he looked at you, letting out a shaky breath. The prisoner looks at you, “Don’t. Look. At. Her.” He hissed to the man as he pressed the side of the knife deeper into his neck causing the man to close his eyes as he shook his head.

The anger of him looking at you, the anger of seeing you helpless, the anger of your precious face hurt, the anger of seeing you lifeless in his arms— he loses it. He stabs the man on the thigh, dragging it upward causing the man to scream out in agony. The king shoved him to the floor as he gets on top of him, hand over his mouth, shoving the cloth further into his mouth.

“Answer me!” He yells at him as he turns on the knife in his thigh, “Who sent you?!” He asked once more as he takes out the knife and holding up against the prisoner’s face.

“-ee-in-om.” The prisoner said, repeating the same muffled words. Behind the mask, Yeosang furrowed his eyebrows as he reached to remove the cloth from his mouth. “Lee Kingdom.” The man breaths out, his chest heaving, “The Lee Kingdom sent us here to harm you.” He confused as he gulp, trying to moisten his dry throat.

Yeosang froze as he watched the man confess, the words processing in his head. He slowly stood up with the knife in his hands. You watched as he stood over the man, the lights shining on his sweaty body as he gave you his back, watching it rise from his heavy breathing.

The Lee Kingdom, how could he forget for a second? For years these two kingdoms have been at war, fighting for ownership of respective lands. He scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head as he looks down. He should’ve known this attack was park of a larger scheme orchestrated by them.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “Turn around.” He commanded. Within seconds you saw the guards turn around, making you look around in confusion. “Eyes.” He said. In sync PERFRCTION, the guards take out a blindfold as they wrapped the cloth around their eyes.

You furrowed your eyes in confusion as you take a step forward to the King, “Your Majesty-“

“Y/N,” he cuts you off as you froze in your step. You watched as he lifted his head, staring out the prison window. “Leave and wait for me outside.” He lifts his hands and slowly takes off his mask causing you tu turn away in fright, your heart was racing when you heard the men screaming.

The men were trying to stand up as they tried to find a way to escape, knowing the consequences of seeing his face. They know they are not leaving here alive. “I don’t want you to see this.” His voice rang through the screams as his mask dropped on the floor. You quickly ran out the door, the sound of the door closing faded the terrorizing screams.

You ran down the hall with a hand covering your mouth, feeling nauseous forming in your throat. You ran up to a wall as you placed your hand on it as you leaned for support. You felt yourself breathing heavy as you tried catching your breath. You placed your back against the wall, sliding down as you covered your ears hearing the screams.

The screams that followed a desperate pleas for mercy tugged on your chest. You knew they deserved punishment, you knew they caused harm to the kingdom but you can’t deny the fact that seeing such gruesome acts brought fear into you. Especially seeing the King do it. Each scream was more gut wrenching than the last.

You sniffed, removing the hands from your ears as the screams suddenly stopped. You let out a shaky breath as you blurred vision stared at the door down the hallway. The eerie silence makes your skin crawl as your heart pounds so loud to your ears as you slowly get up.

You take small, hesitant steps to the door but froze when you heard the door creak open. You soon see the king stepping out with blood splattered across his upper body as he puts his robe on, concealing the brutality that took place. His eyes never met yours as he walked past you with composed steps.

He heard your slight hesitation in steps as you followed behind him. He can sense how your perspective on him change— he’s now the cold blooded, brutal king everyone talks about. How can he face you now?

He stops in his steps, “Are you alright?” He asked in a gentle tone, turning his head to the side to talk to you. The concern in his voice was genuine, but his actions weights heavily on him. “I’m sorry you had to see that. But it needed to be done. I would do anything for my kingdom.” I would do anything for you, he wanted to say.

You paused in your steps. “Yes, your Majesty.” You nodded. “I understand.” You said quietly.

He inhaled and exhales as he turns to fully face you now. His expression behind the mask softens instantly as he sees your scared state. He sees your bruised up lip and slowly gets close to you. You controlled your breathing as you see him approaching. Slowly he grabs your chin to turn to the side to examine your lip but you jolt back as the flashback him holding the knife up to the man’s chin flashes in your mind.

You gasped as you looked away. You then looked back at him with your head bowed. “Forgive me. I-I don’t know why I did that your Majesty.” His heart felt a slight pang as he dropped his arm, slouching slightly in sadness.

“No, it’s okay.” He said gently, looking down. “Clean up your lip and be careful with your neck. There are a few bruises.” He said pointing to his neck. He sighed as he turns around, walking away from you.

“Go home and rest for the night, I’ll handle the rest tonight.” He said raising his hand to give a small wave. “Take care of yourself please.”

You bowed as he walked away, “Yes, your Majesty.” You stood up and watched as he disappeared from the hallway. You sighed as you started walking to your house, reliving the whole day in your mind.

When you entered your house, you walked up to a mirror looking at the state of your face. Your eyes red and swollen from crying, your lip slightly bleeding but your neck is what shocked you the most. Your finger tips run over the hand prints on your neck as the flashbacks of the attacker on top of you pops up in your mind.

You sighed as you shook your head, trying to forget it as you walked to your window. The moonlight peered in as you approached it, looking up to the king’s chamber window only to find him standing there already, gazing out to the moon.

Your heart leaped when he looked down, catching you looking at him. You slightly jumped back but gave him a small wave and a smile. He nods as you before stepping back and closing the curtains. You leaned against the wall, still looking at up at him. Behind the darkness, there is a beautiful soul within him.

—

The next morning, you headed to the palace. You beat the sun in rising as you see the golden hues peaking over the stone walls that surrounded the palace. "Good morning," You were greeted by one of the usual guards, "The king wishes to be alone today." He gives you a small sympathetic smile as he took in the injuries in your face.

You were taken aback, "Oh," you felt slightly sadden that he does not need you today, but you understand why he needs his solitude. "Thank you for letting me know." You said as you looked down at the clothes you brought him, "May you hand this to him?"

"Of course." The guard said as takes it from your hand. "If anything changes, we will come and get you." He said as you nodded and bowed, leaving the scene.

You gnawed on your lower lip as you walked away. You truly wish you can speak to him about yesterday and to apologize once more from jumping away from his touch. You wonder how he is able to cope with the weight that carries, wishing there was something to do to ease the pain.

The day was a blur as you were preoccupied with other responsibilities. You held hope in your heart to be called by the king but nothing. The sun began to set as the sky was painted with hues of pink and orange while you walked to the garden.

The peacefulness of the garden was slowly becoming your safe haven. It was a place where you can escape from all of weight of your stress. You take a seat in the familiar stone bench, your thoughts swirling around in your head as you sighed.

"I thought I was never going to see you again, beautiful." You heard a familiar voice say with a tinged of amusement. You looked at him with a soft smile tugging at your lips as you hear his words sinking in.

You rose from the bench as you walked to him, watching his expression change, "I'm so sorry. I have been overwhelmed with my resp-"

"Who-What-," he cups your face as he examines it cutting himself off from his shock. You winced slightly from his movements, feeling your neck hurt. "Are you okay?" he asked looking deeply into your eyes.

You gave him a small smile, "Yes. Do not worry. I'm okay, I promise." You say as you held onto his wrists, looking back into his eyes.

His face holds sorrow as he looks at you. His eyes holding a familiar gaze, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes, but you tilt your head to the side, "What ever for?" you asked him.

"I'm sorry this happened to you." He said as he leans his forehead against yours. "I should've been quicker." He says closing his eyes, remorse in his tone.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What do you mean?" You asked him. You felt him freeze for split second, but relax as he opened his eyes. "I mean that I should've gone quickly to the king's aid when I heard about the news of the attack. I didn't know you were there." He said clearing his throat at the end.

Your close your eyes with a sweet smile, "Please, it is okay. I promise you." you tell him, trying to ease his worries. "I'm just happy to see you again.", you opened your eyes looking into his.

"Me too," he whispers with sincerity as he looked at you in memorization, "Me too." He grabs your hands, interlocking his with yours. "So tell me," You say changing the topic, "What story do you have for me today?"

He chuckles as he walks backwards, pulling you with him. "Well, can I show you something?" He smirks, "I think you're going to like it." He turns around, guiding you with one hand now.

You bit your lower lip, feeling a smile forming on your face. But then you stopped, "Wait," you tell him. He turned around with furrowed brows with a head tilt. "You promised your name." You crossed your arms at him, smirking.

He chuckles as he looks down, taking a step to close the distance between you two. "Yeosang," he says looking up at you, "Kang Yeosang." He feels a huge weight coming off his chest now that he gave you his true identity. His true self.

"Yeosang," You repeated, making his heart flutter at how you say his name. He extend his hand out and you happily take it. It had been years that he has heard his name and he was happy that it was you to say it for the first time in a while. "Lovely name Kang Yeosang." You two laugh as he keep guiding you.

You two laid on the grass, hearing the sweet sound of the stream flowing by as you stargazed. Your eyes twinkled in admiration as you looked at far away lights with your head laying on his chest, arm draped over his stomach. Yeosang has one hand supporting his head behind him, as the other was wrapped around you, holding you tight in his embrace.

He felt like he was dreaming in this moment. There was no way the woman he admired was now in his embrace. He wishes he could stay in this moment forever. "The stars are beautiful tonight," he heard you say as you snapped him out of his thoughts. He hums in agreement.

You closed your eyes as his heartbeat and the stream make music to yours, "How did you find this place?" You asked him, opening your eyes to look up at him.

He smiles at the memory before speaking, "One day, my work was getting to be too much. I felt overwhelmed so I sneaked out and stumbled into the woods, wanting to be alone, wanting some peace and quiet." He looked up at the stars as you stared at him in admiration. He remembered the time he was starting as king, the advisors all surrounding him, talking all at once and showing him paper works, as he tried focusing everything at once but he just exploded at them to leave. He later on snuck out of the palace and into the woods.

"Yeosang," You called to him. Oh, he can hear you say his name everyday, until he dies. "May I ask you something?" You asked him as you turned onto your stomach as you rest your chin on his stomach.

He smiles at you as he ran his fingers through your hair, "Ask me anything." He told you as your heart fluttered at his actions.

You smiled, sitting up, seeing your hair running through his fingers tangled free as his hand dropped onto his stomach. "How come you became a guard?" You asked, wanting to get to know him better.

He stayed silent, remembering when he was ascended to the throne. He remembers the weight behind the crown, the responsibilities of ruling a kingdom, how he has to hide behind a mask for the rest of his life, all the scarifies he made— He sat up slowly as the thoughts suffocated him. "I became a guard because," he paused for a moment, "because it was a duty that fell upon me to take."

He remembers the difficult trained he endured that was specialized just for the King. Those scars on his back were from the time he was told to stay still while they beat him with sticks or whips to build up his pain tolerance. The many times he had to stand still in harsh weather environments to build up his immune system- the battles he was in as he remembers losing some of his men and the nightmarish screams.

"There comes a time in life when you're called to step up to take a heavy role you might not have chosen for yourself." He continues as you placed a comforting hand on his. He smiles as he interlocks his hand with yours, "For me, it was about protection and guidance, ensuring welfare and safety of my people— like the kingdom in general." He swallowed nervously, thinking he had exposed himself.

He thinks about how countless lives that depend on him everyday, putting a great amount of stress on him. "Knowing that you cannot afford to mess up because your next moves can impact countless lives," he looked at you, "It's daunting, but a privilege."

Your heart feels heavy for him when you hear him finish the story. Your thumb caresses the back of his hand. You sensed that there is more behind his words, but you didn't want to push further. "You're incredibly noble, Yeosang. It must be a hard burden to bear." You tilted your head in sympathy, "You must've given up so much."

He smiles as he looks at your interlocked hands, "We have burdens," he thinks about when he first became king, swearing to protect his people, "but how you carry them out defines who you are." he said looking at you.

You nodded in agreement. "Thank you Yeosang." you say, "Thank you for sharing with me. I know it must've taken a lost to share so I appreciate it."

"No thank you for listening." He smiled. He turned his body completely to face you adjusting himself as he gets closer to you, "Now, enough about me," he said, "Tell me about you."

The way his eyes were filled with interest, made you look down a bit self-consciousness, "Oh, there isn't much to say." You chuckled, "I don't think I have an interesting story like you."

His expression softens, casting a faint knowing smile that plays on his lips as he stared at your black robe with the red dragon outline. "Well, judging from the dragon on your robe," he nodded with his chin, " I would say otherwise."

Your mouth parted slightly in surprised as you looked at the dragon on your robe and back at him. He chuckled at your reaction, "The symbol isn't just given to anyone," he said answering your thoughts on how he knew, "The dragon represents trust, loyalty, and a deep connection to the king himself. You were chosen to serve in a position of great importance. The alone say a lot about who you are."

"Oh, I did not know that." You chuckled sheepishly "I guess I never thought of it in that aspect before." You said, looking at your robe, "I've always seen it as my responsibility. My duty. Something I was chosen to do."

He smirks at you, "And that's exactly why your story is worth telling." He pauses for a moment, kind of hesitant to ask, "How did you end up at the palace?" he asked, softly.

You glanced down, sadness taking over, "I, um-" you cleared your throat. "When I was young I lost my family. It was hard, honestly. To be a child who grew up in the streets, surviving on scraps, struggling to find a place to sleep-" You paused feeling an overwhelming of emotions coming in.

He raised your hand to his lips, placing gently kisses on it, "Please, don't worry." He comforts you, "Take your time." He said softly as he looked into the tears dwelling in your eyes.

You nodded as you inhaled and exhaled. "No child, or human, should go through the struggles I went through. I know my education and knowledge is not top tier— as you can see from how I did not know about the robe. As I got older, I was able to do get by by doing small tasks for people. Then one day, marches in the king's guard," You say as you remember that day. "They mentioned that they were offering food and shelter in exchange for a life of service." You chuckled softly when you remember how quickly you ran to offer yourself.

"It wasn't much of a choice honestly." You shrugged at him. "It was either go with them or continue to struggle. And well, here I am." You tell him. He stares at you in memorization, he is amazed by the strength you have. "Wow," he said in admiration, his eyes twinkling. "You're... incredible." He breaths out.

You laughed at his reaction, playfully shoving his arm. "No, no. I'm not. Just someone who is trying to survive life." You saw, downplaying yourself. He shook his head, "You are so much more than you think." He said.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat. His eyes roam around," S-So how is it working for the King? It must be hard at times, no?" He then shoots his eyes back at you, making you laugh. To say that he was nervous and terrified of your answer was an understatement.

"Well," you take a deep breath in and out. You took a moment to think about your answer. "Where do I even begin?" You thought out loud as you looked up to the sky. Yeosang scratched the back of his head as he sits up straight, trying to calm himself down.

"It's very.. complex." You began, carefully thinking of your words, "There are days I feel overwhelming weight of my responsibilities, but there are also the moments when I feel privileged to be in the position I'm in. But serving him isn't just a job, it's about being there for someone who carries the whole kingdom on his shoulders."

He stays quiet as he listens. You put a small smile on your face, "The king... he isn't just a ruler to me. He's someone who cares deeply for his people. He's someone who has to make the difficult decisions with their best interests at heart. I've seen him at his most vulnerable, seeing him make those tough sacrifices every day."

Your voice softens further as you look at Yeosang, "I see him in a different light contrast to how people see the worst in him. People think that he just rules with iron fists, with no emotions but they couldn't be more wrong. Behind closed doors I've seen him carry the weight of the crown, the burden of every choice he makes, every life he's responsible for. He may not show it openly, but he cares more deeply than people realize."

"It's not that he lacks emotions," You say, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, "He's just learned to hide them, guard them well so to protect himself from the vulnerability that comes with showing them too much. There's strength in that. Being able to withhold so much and keep going."

Yeosang was in awe of how you spoke of him. He looked down as he felt tears in his eyes, "You see the humanity in him, don't you?" He asked in a low voice.

"Yes, I do." you nodded your head, "That's why I'll keep serving him with everything within me. If there is anything I can do to ease his burdens, I'll do it. Because I believe in him for who he is, not as the king everyone sees."

He looks up with a tear streaming down his face, "I apologize," he chuckled, looking away wiping his face, "Those words spoke to me deeply."

"Oh, Yeosang," you cupped his face, making him turn to face you as you wiped his tears away with your thumb, "Don't be sorry. It's okay to let yourself be human. Maybe you relate to the king in some aspects, mmm?."

He just laughed, nodding at you. If only you knew, "Yes, maybe." He said leaning into your touch as he placed his hand over your hand that cupped his face.

Since that night you have been seeing him quiet often at night in the garden. You two enjoyed sneaking around the night shift guards, hiding in bushes or behind stone walls as you two stand chest to chest at times, or how stargazing has become a things between you two, or the random sweet talks you have when walking to his secret place, or enjoying a childish act like throwing water to each other from the stream.

As each day passes, you two grew closer and closer. There was one special night where you two laid next to each other, moonlight casted on you both as you looked into each others eyes. Soon you saw Yeosang leaning in causing to flutter your eyes close, raising your eyebrows in shock when he kissed you. You both opened your eyes when he pulled away. He then sits up and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. He hovers over you as you two returned to kissing passionately.

Let's not forget how your house is filled with bouquets of flowers he makes every time he sees you from random bushes or the flower field you two pass by in the woods. He always walks you home and hands you the freshly made bouquets before kissing you good night and leaving. You feel completely over the moon when you see him and you realize you are falling deeply in love with him.

And here you are once again, walking into the garden, seeing him sat upon the bench. You smiled mischievously as you sneaked up behind him. Yeosang, who was trained to spot noises from miles away, knew it was but wanted to give you a chance to scare him.

You covered his eyes. "Guess who?" You smiled as you felt him stiffen up but then relax in your touch. "Oh, wow, this is hard," he smiles when he hears you giggling. "Might it be," he pounders for a second, "the woman who has my heart?" He asks, causing you to laugh as you remove your hands, taking a seat next to him.

"How did you know?!" You gasped in a fake surprise tone. You placed a kiss on his lips. "Mmm, it was a wild guess." He tells you as you leaned your cheek on his shoulder, looking up at him.

"How are you doing?" You asked him, eyes twinkling. "Much better now that you are here." He smirks as he places a hand on yours. "I wish we could stay here forever." He whispers to you.

"Which reminds me," You say nervously as you played with your hands, looking away from him. "I wanted to ask you something. I-Is there a reason as to why we only see each other at night? How come you never stay longer with me?" You asked him. "Are you afraid to be seen with me?"

His eyes widened at the last question. "What? Why would you say that? That is not the reason at all." He grabs your chin and turns your face to look at him. He sighed, "My love, you know that I have my guard duties that take up my time during the day. And since we sneak around at night, I get worries we will be caught." His thumb caresses your cheek.

You nodded, looking down. "You're right." You tell him. "I apologize. I don't know why I let my thoughts get to me." You chuckle sheepishly, trying to ignore the pang of sadness forming in your heart. You want to be able to be a couple in peace. Like those that you saw in town. To be able to showcase your relationship freely.

His heart breaks, watching your emotions changed. "How about I spend the night with you?" He asks, his mouth speaking faster than his thinking.

You cleared your throat, "Huh?" Your eyes widened. Why are you acting so shocked, isn't this what you wanted? "Oh- I um-"

Yeosang holds his hands up, trying to stop your thinking. "Oh. N-Not like that-"

You let out a sheepish smile. "Oh- okay, I was just-"

"I mean, unless you want to." He cuts you off again. He widens his eyes, "No- wait- It's your choice, but I just wanted to sleep with you." He shook his head as he slapped his forehead in embarrassment. "I mean I want to lie with you." He shakes his head and throws it back frustration. You make him so nervous. "I mean-"

You stand up, "Yeosang," You cut him off with a smile. You extended your hand out to him. "Come with me." He chuckles at himself as he grabbed your hand.

The silence had a comfortable feeling as you two lied in bed together. You two faced each other as you looked into each other’s eyes all mesmerized as he had a hand cupping your face. “Thank you for staying the night.” You say softly as you smiled.

“Thank you for letting me.” He said smiling back at you as his thumb caressed your thumb, causing you to close your eyes in delight. He chuckled lightly, “Are you tired?” He asked you as you nodded. He lays on his back, arm open for you to come into his embrace, “Come here.” He tells you.

You blushed, feeling butterflies in your stomach as you get closer and feeling him warm embrace enclosed around you. His heart was racing, feeling as if he can die in peace now. “Good night, Yeosang.” You tell him as you adjusted your head on his arm.

He leans over and gives you a kiss on your forehead, “Good night Y/N.” He leans his head back onto the pillow as you two drifted to sleep. How he wished he could stay in this moment forever.

Early in the dark morning Yeosang slowly opened his eyes. He had to get back before the sun rises. He looks down at you, gently removing you from his embrace. He watched as you shifted slightly in sleep, groaning a bit before getting back into a deep sleep. He chuckled as he turned to your table, taking out a red handkerchief and note.

He looks back and presses a kiss on your forehead before slowly backing up and quietly leaving your house. On his way to the chambers he can’t help but to smile knowing that he shared such an intimate moment with you.

—

You heard the birds chirping, your nature alarm. You groaned when you felt the sun peering into your room as you held your hand out to block the brightness. You turn your head to the side to see if you spot Yeosang but he's not here. You sat up and looked around, rubbing your sleepy eyes, “Yeosang?” You called out to him, but he was no where in sight.

You pouted knowing you weren’t able to say goodbye. But maybe you’ll see him later on tonight. You sighed as you removed the covers from your legs as you stood up, stretching your neck as you prepared the clothes for today, seeing as you have busy day with the King as he has meetings.

You then walked to the kitchen to prepare some tea but was stopped when you saw a red handkerchief and note on the table. You furrowed your eyebrows as you tilted your head, “What is this?” You asked yourself as you picked up the note.

It reads, To the woman who captured my eyes, my heart, my soul there are no words to describe what you make me feel. Out of all the roses in the world, you bloom the most beautiful. This pin represents the beauty you bestow. - Kang Yeosang.

The warmth of his words made your heart leap as you smiled at the note. You placed it down as you grabbed the handkerchief, slowly unraveling it. You gasped at the sight of the rose hairpin. You grabbed it, letting the red cloth fall to the table.

You sighed out a gasp as you moved it around your hand. You turned and quickly walked up to your mirror as you adjusted your hair and slide in the pin, turning your head to the slide to admire it. Oh yes, you really love this man.

Here you are in the grand room of the palace as you stood behind the King, dressed in a red robe with a black and gold dragon outline on your shoulder with your new rose hairpin on display. Your eyes scan the room that was filled with the advisors, military leaders, and other high ranking officials. The atmosphere was tense, thick with the weight of important decisions that yet to be made.

Throughout the meeting, you stood by him, watching his body language shift in different emotions. The discussion today was about the plan on the up coming war with the Lee Kingdom. You felt knots of fear forming in your stomach as you tried to keep your feelings at bay. You watched how the men in the room yelled at one another as they voiced their opinions on what they should do or what they assumed was a horrible idea.

Many tried to speak for the king which only made things worst. Everyone in the room flinched and went quiet when he heard the King slam his hands on the table, standing up. "Why must you all handle this which such incompetence." His low voice rang. You gulped, wondering what his next actions were.

"General," He calls to him. The General sits up straight, "Yes, your majesty?" He said clearing his throat, trying to make his voice sound strong and not in fear. "Gather all the men tonight. Start their training at dawn. They must be prepared for what is to come." He looks up at the men in front of him. "We are going to showcase the most historic bloodbath known to man. We will make them regret ever attacking our kingdom."

They all nodded in silence. "Everyone is dismissed." He says. With that everyone stands up and bows in unison. The king walks pass you, looking out the window while everyone leaves the room. When the door closes, he lets out a sigh, feeling exhausted and burnt out.

"What is troubling you?" He asks you, sensing your uneasiness. Well, what weren't you thinking of. You were internally freaking out about this war, about how many guards were going, is Yeosang going to be one of them, what if he were to get hurt, what if he were to die, what if- "I sense something is disturbing you." He said turning you, approaching you with his hands behind his back.

You held his gaze slightly caught off guard by his direct question. "It is nothing, your majesty." You shook your head masking your emotions. He tilts his head, a way of saying don't lie. You sighed in defeat as you looked down. "I'm just afraid of this war. The many lives that will changed. The people we might lose." You looked at him, "Are all guards going? I-I just want to make sure you'll be safe." Not a lie, but you want to know if some are staying behind.

His eyes lingered on you almost as if he's trying to see pass the walls you put up. He stays quiet for a second before breaking it, "We will be sending majority of the guards. Some will be staying behind in case of anything." He gets closer to you, "I know this meeting was unsettling to you, but rest assured that I do not intend to lose." His tone softens up.

You gave him a small smile, looking down and back up at him. "Of course, your majesty." You return the soft tone. "I believe in you."

He nods, turning around. "Very well," His cold self returns in a matter of seconds. You were use to it already. "You are dismissed for the day. I will handle everything else from here." You bowed as he walked out the room.

After a few minutes, feeling as if he was already away from the sight, you quickly ran out the room to the garden in hopes of seeing Yeosang.

—

You felt the world spinning as you ran all over the palace trying to find Yeosang. You shouted his name, hearing your voice echoing his name throughout the halls, but there was no response. An overwhelming sense of fear was coursing through you.

Your search led you to the garden as you frantically turned your head looking for him. The wind was blowing roughly, making your hair fly as it created a harsh hum in your ears, hearing some leaves rustling by. You let out a choked sob as you hugged yourself, feeling sadness consuming you.

What if you don’t see him before he leaves? What if he was already shipped for training? What if he doesn’t come back from the war? What if— “Y/N?” A voice snapped you out of your rushing thoughts.

You gasped as you turned to his voice, feeling your heart leap in relief at the sight of him, “Oh.” you say as you run to him, trying to ease yourself.

Yeosang’s expression softened at the sight of you as he opened his arms to embrace you. He kisses your temple as he hugs you tightly, “My love,” he lets go as he goes to cup your face, “What’s wrong?” He asked you in a gentle voice, the sight of you broke his heart.

“Yeo-“ you cut yourself off with a sob as you held onto his wrists. “Yeosang, please tell me you aren't going..” You shook your head as you looked into his eyes. "Please tell me." You cried out.

He sighed as he leaned his forehead against your, closing his eyes, “My love—“

“No, no. please don’t.” You cut him off, not wanting to believe it. “Please, just stay. Stay with me." You sniffed. "Let's runaway. Let's just get out of here before it's too late." Your voice broke out into a whisper.

His eyes had tears dwelling in as he looked into yours, using his thumbs to clean the fallen tears. “My love,” he said as you whimpered in sadness at the name, “I would do anything to stay and be with you,” your eyes held on for tiny bits of hope, but it was shattered, “but I must go.”

You removed his hands from your face as you sighed turning around in frustration. "My love. This is something I have to do. I cannot just stand by and do nothing." He tells you, trying to grab your arm but you yank it out of his grasp.

He takes a step back at your actions, eyes widening. You stare at him with angry tears streaming down your face, "Why not?" You asked him. "Why you? Forgive me for being selfish, but why not anyone else? Why must you go and someone else gets to stay?" He stays silent. "What if I lose you?" Your hand clutched your chest, feeling your heart being crushed.

He sighed as he takes a step to you, cupping your face, "No. Don't say that-" He shakes his head.

You sobbed. "What if you don't come back to me-"

"Stop it." He cuts you off with a serious tone. "Look at me, please." He begs of you. "You will never lose me. I promise you, I will come back to you." He kisses your lips to calm you down.

You imagine about him not coming home after that promise. "Don't make such promises. What if something-." You close your eyes, sniffing.

He smirks, tilting his head to the side. "What? You think I'm weak? I feel quite offended that my woman thinks I am not capable." He jokes with you, trying to lighten up the mood.

Even in a situation like this he knows how to make your heart flutter. Even in a situation like this, he knows how to make you smile and laugh. You let out a soft chuckle as you shoved his chest playfully. "I will come back to you. No matter what." He places a kiss on your forehead.

You looked at him as you nodded. "Okay." You say quietly. "I-" You say, cutting yourself off, feeling nervous. "I love you."

His mouth parted slightly in shock. His eyes moved between your eyes and lips as he leaned in and kissed you. He kissed you as if tomorrow does not exist. "I love you too." He said between kisses, making you melt in his touch. "More than you know."

—

And that was the last you saw of Yeosang. That day he told you he would be gone for training. How long? No idea. Would you see him before he leaves? Much less. You really tried your best in not letting your emotions show but it's so hard. The king even notices the change in your demeanor, how you have been delaying his commands or making small mistakes you don't normally make.

When he asks you what the issue is, you just tell him your scared for this war. Which is not a lie. You are terrified of this war, of what will happen to Yeosang, or the king, hell, even the kingdom if we lose. You don't mean to doubt the strength of your king, but you just simple cannot help it right now.

You were tending to your responsibilities one afternoon, helping out with supper that will be packed up for the in-training guards. That is until one of the king’s guard came up to you, halting your actions. “You are needed in the king’s chambers,” he said causing you to look up at him, “Immediately.”

You stood up from your seat, removing your apron, “Yes.” You said feeling your heart racing with confusion and anxiety. “I’ll be on my way." You quickly abandoned your position as you hurried throughout the palace.

The sense of urgency in the guard's voice made you uneasy, wondering what had happened that the king needed you so urgently. You paused for a moment to catch your breath, swallowing to moisten your dry throat, when the sight of the doors came into your sight.

You wiped your hands down on your robe, fixing yourself before approaching to the door. You looked at the two guards who gave you a nod, signaling to enter the door. He steps to the side and opens the door for you.

You inhaled and exhaled, feeling your heartbeat in your ears with every step. Your eyes scanned the room and found him standing near the window, watching how his hair and opened top robe gently swayed from the wind. You took in his nightly robe, all silky white with a black dragon outline in the back.

The doors closed behind, letting you speak in private. "Your majesty," You say as you walked to the center of the room, "You summoned me? Is everything alright?"

There was a silence in the room before he inhaled and exhaled, “I was thinking about you.” he said causing your eyes to slightly widened. “And I was thinking that,” He pauses as he turns around to face you, mask still on his face. “you deserve to know the truth.”

Now you are just confused. You furrowed your eyebrows as you tilted your head to the side. “What do you mean your majesty?”

He takes a few steps forward, still maintains his distance. “There is something I must say," He pauses once more, looking down, " but I’m afraid of your reaction.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, taking one step forward, "Your Majesty," your tone comforting, "You do not have to afraid with me. Please, whatever is troubling you, tell me."

He stares at you. “I don’t think that I can hide from you any longer.” He said making you tilt your head in confusion. “H-hide? What would you be hiding from me that you’re afraid of how I’ll react?” You asked him.

He walks slowly to you, closing some the distance a tad bit more. “Do you trust me?” He whispers to you, looking back and forth at your eyes as he stops in-front of you.

You nodded, “Of course. With everything within me.” You reassure him. You watch as he slowly raises his hand up to his mask, fingers gripping at the edge of it. Your eyes widened as your breath hitched before completely turning around, "Your Majesty." His title coming out reflexively, as your tone was filled with shock and fear.

The room was filled with nothing but your shallow breaths. Your heart was pounding up to your ears, terrified at his actions. "Please," you heard his voice tremble with vulnerability, something that was unheard of from him, "Look at me." he begged of you.

You shook your head. “With all due respect your majesty,” you gulped nervously, “I- I don’t think I can. Why-Why are you doing this?" You stuttered at him as you frantically looked all over the floor, feeling shocked with his actions.

You jolted when you heard the thudding of the mask as it fell to the floor, feeling your heart racing even more. Is this a test of trust? "Y/N, please look at me. I promise you it is okay." You heard him say as he gets closer to you causing you to gasp as you covered your eyes with your hands.

"Your majesty, I don't think this is right." You felt your chest heaving, feeling beyond terrified of the consequences. "We mustn't. For your own protection."

There was silence- only your heavy breathing can be heard. You weren't sure as to why he would do such a thing to you or why he would even bother trying to show you his face. This must be a test, no doubt. You stood still, waiting for his response as you still covered your eyes.

He sighed as he looked down, "To the woman who captured my eyes, my heart, my soul," He spoke in a low voice. You froze. Slowly you dropped your hands from your face as your eyes widened in disbelief, your mouth parted in shock. "There are no words to describe-," his voice broke in sadness, "To describe what you make me feel."

Slowly, hesitantly you turned to face him. A trembling hand covered your mouth as you took a step back, "No.." You whispered at the sight. You felt the in coming tears burning the inner corners as you blinked in doubt.

"Y/N," he said your name causing you let out a gasp. The way he says your name- it bring you back into the fact that this is reality. This is real. . "I'm so sorry I kept this hidden from you." His eyes carried rawness, reflecting the vulnerability he had been hiding behind the mask.

You shook your head as you said no like a mantra as your hands held your head as you looked around the room as if you're going crazy. "This can't be happening." You spoke your thoughts out loud. You watched as the king—Yeosang— take a step forward but you took a step back, “No! Stay away from me.”

“Y/N,” his voice broke as he sniffed, “Please let me explain.” He said as he took another step forward, cupping your face. “My love-“

“My love?” You repeated in disbelief as you shoved his hands off. You stare at him with anger in your eyes. “Do you have any idea what you have done?” You asked him as you watched tears streaming down his face. “I trusted you-“

“My love, I know-“ he cried in sorrow and regret, coming close to you again but you backed up once more.

“How could you do this?” You clutched onto your chest, feeling your heart break. “How could you do this to me? To us-” You looked at him as a shiver went down your spine, realizing that you are looking at him. “A-Are you going to kill me?”

His mouth parts in shock as he stares at you in disbelief, “Why would you- No. No, I would never, ever do that to you.” He lets out a sob as he gets closer to you once more cupping your face. “Y/N please just give me a chance to explain myself. Let me prove to you that I am still the same man you know, despite the title I bestow. I’m still the same man who is deeply in love with you.”

"Your Majesty-"

"To hell with the that. It's Yeosang," he cuts you off. "Yeosang." he repeated, holding your face to look into his eyes. You stayed silent as you looked into his eyes that was full of desperation. He leaned his forehead against you, "Let me explain my actions please. I beg of you." He pleads with you. All you were able to do is nod, watching him let out a shaky breath of relief.

"Y/N," He begins, "From the moment my eyes laid on you, I knew my world was never going to be the same. Time slowed and all the noises in my head faded away when I was with you. I felt human again. I felt alive." He grabs your hand and places it on his chest, "You feel this? My heart beats for you. I would do anything for you, Y/N." He spoke from his soul.

"I portrayed myself as a mere guard because I couldn't risk it if they found out about you while I was in my king attire. I couldn't risk losing you. Yes, I know," he said as he watched you looking to the side, crying as he cupped your face to look at him, "I should've said something but I was afraid. Afraid of being caught, afraid of how you'll react, afraid of everything while doing this risky thing. Y/N, I have done things that haunt me at night but when I am with you they disappear. I wanted to know the real you and for you to know the real me."

He wipes your tears with his thumb, "I'm so sorry for pain I have brought upon you. I'm so sorry for making you fall in love with me, I'm selfish I know. But I, too, fell in love with you. Before I went off to war, I needed to tell you, no matter the outcome of me. Believe me, I never wanted to hurt you." He finishes as he hugs you tightly, pressing a kiss on your head.

You cling onto him as the words he spoke sink into you, crying into the crook of his neck. You felt torn apart with the love you had for him and the reality of your circumstances, "Why must you go? Why must a war happen in order to have peace?" You cried out to him. You removed yourself from his embrace as you looked into his eyes, "Even if you do win the war, you and I will not win. They will never let us be together. They will tear us apart- They will send me away." You whispered as your voice broke, "You're a royal. I'm nobody. We can never be."

"That doesn't matter," He shook his head, "I will-"

"Doesn't matter?" You repeated as you sniffed. "Look at what they did to the couple in the garden." You reminded him of the statue. "We are just like them. If it happened to them, it will happen to us."

He felt anger coursing in him. He takes a step back and kneels in front of you making your gasp, "Yeo-Yeosang, what are you doing? Get up. You don't have to do this." You say as you walked to kneel down with him but he puts a hand out to stop you. The sight of a powerful king kneeling in front of you felt surreal.

"If getting on my knees proves that I would do anything for you, then so be it." He said looking up at you. "I love you. You are the reason I am able to keep going. Your status or my status means nothing to me if I don't have you. I can lose everything and I can live with that but if I lose you-" He clears his throat as he looks down, cutting himself off. "I wouldn't be able to live. To hell with what people say."

You fall to your knees as you lift his face in your hands as you placed a gentle kiss on his. He exhaled as he felt your soft lips. "Yeosang," You say when you pulled away, "I have discovered so much with you. You taught me the meaning of true love, an emotion I never truly felt before. Words cannot describe the immense joy you have brought into my life. To be in this lifetime with you is blessing. I have deemed our love to be the richest thing I have ever owned in my life." You gave him a small smile, "But I.. I need time to understand what this means for us. For me."

He removes your hands gently from his face as he brings them to his lips, placing gentle kisses on them. He closes his eyes as tears streamed down his cheek, nodding. "Of course, my love," his voice barely a whisper, "I understand."

You felt as if a rock had crushed you as the days leading up to the departure neared. There was no doubt in your heart that you loved Yeosang. But you were afraid of how the advisors would react, how the people of the kingdom would react. You would rather stop the relationship between you two then to be sent away, never seeing him again.

Here you are in his room, dreading that it is the last time you will see him in a while as it is departure day. You were summoned by him, of course. He stood in front of the mirror, mask off now, as he watches you through it, seeing how you walked back and forth from the bed to him.

He watched as you handled his armor with care, placing it on him with a gentle touch. He closed his eyes delight as he felt your hand through his hair. He opened his eyes to take in your features. The way you bit your lips in concentration, how you furrowed your eyebrows- even with his intense stare, you moved with practice precision.

You turned around to place some accessories on the bed and turned around only to slightly jump back seeing him stand there. He smiled at your actions as he placed his hands on your arms. You gave him a small smile as you lifted your hands to fasten the straps of his armor adjusting the plates to ensure they fit well. As you finished with the last piece, you hesitated for a moment, your hand lingered, slowly gliding it down to his chest.

You looked into his eyes, taking in his features as well. Admiring everything you loved about him. "I brought something." You say the breaking silence, "I want you to take this." You reached in your robe and grabbed your rose hairpin he gave you. "I wanted you to think of me." You gave a sad sheepish smile.

You grabbed his hand and placed it as you rolled his fingers to grip it well. "I'll keep it close. I will carry you in my heart." He said placing it inside his clothes. His hand take home behind your neck as he pulled you closer to him.

"You better come back to me, Yeosang." You said with heaviness in your heart. A deep rooted fear inside you as you think this might be the last time you will see him. You felt a lump forming in your throat as you felt his thumb caress your lips. "Please."

"No matter what happens," He said looking into your eyes, "I will return. Besides," He gave you a playful smile, "You think I am weak?" He asked as he tilted his head.

You chuckled as you playfully hit his chest, softly. "Keep that smile for me." He said leaning his forehead on yours, running a his thumb over your lips. "Everything is going to be okay."

He looks into your eyes for permission before looking at your lips, asking for one last time. You held onto his shoulders as you two shared a passionate kiss. Feeling his hands roaming the curvature of your back, pulling you in, wanting to feel you tightly against his body. You melted into the kiss as your hands snaked down to his biceps, gripping at them as you held on for dear life in this heated kiss.

You two pulled away, panting as you tried catching your breath. "I will come back." He says.

The sun casted over the city as people from all over gathered to watch the king and his army departure. You stood among the crowd, crossing your arms as you heart felt heavy knowing what might or might not unfold as the wind blew in your hair. Everyone then falls in silence as they see him appear on a beautiful majestic horse, dressed in his armor and matching mask.

His presence commanded attention, eyes fixed on him. "My people of the Dragon Kingdom," his voice cut through the stillness of the morning, "Today we march, but not just for our defense of our land, but for the future of our people." His eyes roamed the crowd as he took a pause. "This path that is ahead of us is fraught with danger. I know many of you may have fears and doubts. But trust in me when I say the commitment I have to our kingdom and it's people is unwavering."

His continues to gaze over the assembled crowd until it landed on you, remaining his sight on yours when he says, "We will face this challenge together," He said. You knew he meant it meant more than the war. It was also about your relationship. "I will return, not just as your King but as someone who carries the hopes and dreams of each and everyone of you within him."

The crowed roared in excitement, cheering for their ruler as they jumped and threw fists in the air. He straightens his back as he takes in the roars of the crowd. His eyes scanned one final time before looking at you once more. You mouthed I love you and watched as he nodded before lifting the rope to turn his horse. He gives his men a command as they yelled yes in unison as started marching.

You watched as they walked away, feeling a sense of sadness and pride. The crowd around you slowly starts to disperse as you watched the last of the soldiers disappearing from view, making you the only that stood there. You inhaled and exhaled remembering his words. "Everything will be okay."

Weeks have past since the departure and the absence of the king and his army hung over the entire kingdom. The usual liveliness and bustling of the daily life was replaced by this harsh silence in the palace. Like many others, you were trying to grasp this new reality. You would often find yourself wondering the garden late at night, not bothering to be caught.

You would walk into his chambers to keep things dust free, switching the bed sheets in case of his arrival at any moment. You would run your hands over his clothes, missing his warmth. At night you would run your fingertips over the note he had written you, or how you would fall asleep with the note clutched to your chest as you dreamt about him.

You would walk into the woods and stargaze alone, hearing the stream fill up your mind with tranquility. You wished upon stars every time you visited, wishing for protection over him and a safety return. As each passed you feel yourself going through a mixture of emotions that range between hope and lack of faith that everything will be okay.

One morning, you heard a pounding on your door causing you to jolt up in your bed. "Miss Y/N, the-" You stood up quickly as you ran to door, not hearing what the person was saying as it sounded muffled. You opened the door and saw a fellow palace worker with a smile on her face. "The King and the army is back!"

You stood in shock as your eyes widened at the news and in perfect timing, the bells rang signaling the arrival of the king. Never in your life have you gotten dressed so fast. You rushed to town, hearing the gravel underneath every step. You scanned around as you saw people forming a crowd quickly. "Excuse me. Sorry! Coming through." You repeated as you passed through and stumbled to the front of the crowd.

Your heart flutters at the sight of the army marching in with Yeosang in the center as he looks bloodied and hurt. The crowd roars with cheer as they seem approaching into town. You see as the palace workers rush to tend to the army and your feet didn't stop you as you ran to Yeosang. You watched as they helped him off, taking his first steps to you all wobbly causing you to grab his arm, placing it over your shoulder as you became his support while you two walked. "I told you I would come back." He whispered with a tired voice as a lazy smirk painted on his lips behind the mask.

You dumped the bucket full of warm water, lifting your arm sleeve as you placed your arm inside to check the temperature. You removed it shaking your arm to remove the excess water, "All prepared for you." You say as you turned to him and gasped when he removed his mask. "What are you doing?" You whispered at him as you tried moving the mask back to his face.

He moves your hand away and cupping your face, eagerly kissing you, "I missed you." He whispers to you, kissing you with so much love that you melt in touch. But you break the kiss, looking back the door, "Someone can walk-"

"I'm the king. No one will touch that door unless I say so." He cuts you off, thumb caressing your cheek. You gulped at how those words made your knees weak. He kisses your forehead and smirks at you, "I'll call you when I am done bathing."

You sat up straight when you heard Yeosang calling your name from inside the room. You knocked and heard a gentle come in. Your heart was beating up to your ears when you see him standing, giving his back to you as he adjusted the pants around his waist, tying up the strings.

Your eyes then capture the red scratches, bruises that was marked all over his body. He turned around with a smile but slowly dropped when he saw your teary eyes. His eyes followed your sight as he looked down and saw the the markings. He looked back at you, giving a small smile, "It's okay." He tells you as he walks to you.

A surge of emotions rushes to you as you choked back a sob as you covered your mouth, "My love," He cups your face, "Look at me," He tells you centering your face to look into his eyes, "Please don't cry. I promise you I'm okay."

You sniffed. "How can I not be saddened at the fact that you got hurt?" You say as your fingertips roam his arms, your eyes looking at his bruised stomach. "Your pain is my pain." You sniffed.

He stays silent as he takes a step back, eyes locked on yours. You watched as he turns around, head turning to the side, "Can you..." he pauses, inhaling and exhaling, "Can you touch my back?" He asked you in a whisper.

Your eyes slightly widened at his request. Your mind flashes back to when you accidently grazed it. "I won't hurt you." He said, "I promise." You were still for a second before slowly taking a step forward. You raised your hand, hovering over his back. You exhaled as you gently placed it on his back. You feel him stiffen up as he let out a shaky breath feeling your hand roaming his back, tracing his scars, finger tips grazing the bruises.

"When I first became King," He said with a slight tremble in his voice. He was trying to replace the the brutal touches with your delicate ones. "I had to undergo brutal training. One of the training methods was to not let pain affect me during a fight which involved getting beaten with a stick." He explains to you and you gasped in shock. "In order for me to succeed, I had to stand still. No reaction."

Your hands froze as tears streamed down your face. "My father thought it was a method to show endurance, resilience, and emotional control." You shook your head as you leaned your forehead on his back, placing your hands on his waist, sniffing. "A horrible way to get you to detached you from physical discomfort. One day my father got tired of me failing and took matter into his hands, causing the scar across my back."

You placed a sweet, lingering kiss on his back. He drops his head and you feel his shoulders shaking. You moved in front of him as you lifted his face to look at him. "I'm so sorry for all the pain you endured." You tell him as you two shared tears. No one spoke a word as you two fell onto your knees, you hugged him tightly as he cried into your chest as you comfort him. "For as long as I'm here. I will do all I can to protect you." You tell him as you ran your hand through his hair.

For the first time in his life, Yeosang is no longer crying alone. He has someone he can lean on. He has someone.

After the moment you two shared, you had helped him get dressed for the night of celebration. You stood along side him as he sat upon his throne. The atmosphere was different- townsfolks were singing and dancing amongst each other, some clanking wooden cups as liquor spilled out as the laughed, beautiful music coming from instruments. Everything felt right. Minus one thing- what will become of your relationship.

But it's as if your thoughts were heard when you watched Yeosang standing up, raising his hands as the festive energy momentarily hushed down. "My people," He spoke, "Tonight we celebrate those who fought bravely in battle." You watched as people raised their cups. "As well as the end of conflict of hundreds of years. From here on out, this is a new journey for our kingdom. Throughout this voyage, I have discovered many things."

He looks at his advisors who offered a subtle nods of encouragement and approval. "It is with a full heart that I must share with you all," His gaze returns to the crowd, a smile on his face behind the mask. "I have fallen in love with a beautiful woman." The crowd erupts with surprised gasps and whisperings. "But this love is not bounded by the traditions of nobility. The woman who holds my heart is not of noble birth. She is a commoner."

You tried your hardest to not show any reaction. You licked your lips as you looked down, clearing your throat. You then looked back up as you bit your tongue to focus on that pain to try and not smile because there was no way your relationship was accepted by the advisors? How did that even happen? You watched as the crowd stirred with curiosity and murmurs. "I choose not reveal her name nor face, not out of secrecy but to ensure her safety. I know her position as a commoner makes her vulnerable and I wish to protect her from any undue attention and scrutiny."

He takes a deep breath as he continues. "The values we hold dear and the future changes we will embrace in this kingdom are inspired by the person I love. It is my hope that this will lead us to a better future where every individual is valued for who they are, not for their status."

With that finishing note, the crowd cheers for the new version of this king. They sense a positive change in him, making them radiate happiness throughout this festival. From the distance, Yeosang spots the old lady from the cart to who waves and bows at him to which is returns a nod in her direction as he turns to sit back upon his throne.

He calls to you and you bend forward, "Meet me in my chambers." and you felt yourself freeze.

Here you were. In his chambers. And to say you were nervous was an understatement as you walked and forth in the center of the room as you wiped your sweaty hands on your clothes. You then hear footsteps outside which causing you to look at the door as it opens up revealing Yeosang.

He swiftly removes his mask and drops to the floor as you two run closed the distance to each others embrace, sharing a sweet kiss. You pulled bac with a smile on your face. "I-Wha-How-" You two laughed at the fact that you couldn't even speak. "How did you even convince the advisors? When did you talk to them? What did they say?" You bombarded him with questions.

He smiled as you two gently swayed side by side in love. "Let's just say I have my many ways." Basically when the advisors were going to deny him, he went full berserk mode. He explained how he is the king and he has the right to change laws as he wished, he has the right to love whomever it was, and plus he threatened to show his face but that made everyone drop to their knees and begged for forgiveness. Maybe being ruthless came in hand for certain things. "I told you I would do anything for you." He tucks your hair behind your ear.

"That you did." You smiled at him. His eyes shifted to your lips as he leans in and captures them. Your hands snaked up his arms they tugged the back of his head, feeling this kiss starting to heat up. He backs away, "May I?" He asks you as you franticly nodded, wanting his touch again.

He kisses you again as his fingertips trail from your jaw to between your breast. The slight touch makes you gasp slightly as he undies the front of your robe. He backs up slightly, both of you softly panting from the intense kiss as his hands slide into your robe, sliding your clothes of your shoulders, feeling his rough hands on your arms.

The air hits your exposed skin, your nipples harden at the cold. He kisses you once more, his hand reaching to the back of your hair as he tugs it back, exposing more of you neck as he trails his lips down causing you to moan at the sensation of the pulling and kisses. You kicked your robe that was pooled around your feet as he guides you to his bed, his mouth sucking a sweet spot on your neck.

When the bed it the back of your knees, he gentle pushed you down as he hovers over you, "You're so beautiful." He says lowly, planting a kiss right above your nipple causing you bit your lip. "I'm a lucky man." He tells you as he starts to suck your nipple as his free hand slightly pinched the other one. Your chest heaves at the feeling, throwing your head back.

He looks up at you, mouth still latched, groaning at the sight. He lets go as his lips traveled further down your stomach, causing you to clench onto nothing. He position himself between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs as he hooks his fingers at the side of your silky soaked panties. He took his time in taking them off, biting his lower lip at the glistening sight.

The way the moonlight made your body glow looked so heavenly. Watching how your juices shine as he peppers kisses along your thighs, inching closer and closer. You felt your eyes dilate as your mouth parts when he started to suck on your clit. He lets his tongue slide between your folds before returning to suck your clit.

You arched your back when you felt his fingers rubbing on it, grabbing his hair when he shoved his tongue in and out of your hole. "Oh." You moaned out. His fingers swiftly moved into you as he went back to sucking on your clit. "Oh, oh right there!" You moan out, grabbing the the bed sheets. You buckled your hips up, only for him to hook his free arm underneath your thigh, holding you in place.

You were a whimpering mess when he quickened the pace, feeling the slight burn of the stretching he gave you. His tongue was flattened between your folds as he moved his head up and down, soaking in all your juices. "I- oh- Please-" You couldn't even comprehend words right now.

He hovers over you, fingers still at work. "Please what, my love?" He asked you as he leans down to suck of your neck some more, trailing down to your nipple. The sensation sent you on a overload of pleasure. "I need you." You cried out between the moans. He smirks at the sight of you as he removes his fingers, quickly getting up, undressing himself.

You propped yourself on your elbows, your mind a haze as you watched him remove his clothing. He teasingly took of his underwear, eyes widening at the size of him. He walks back to you, hooking his arms underneath your thighs as he drags you closer to him. He leans down, "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked you and you nodded, giving him a kiss. "I've never been more sure."

His eyes stayed locked on yours as he teasingly rubbed the head between your folds, lathering it up with your juices for a smooth glide in. He then positioned himself aligned with your hole, slowly going in. You gasped at the burning sensation, mixed with pain and pleasure. You gripped at arms for dear life with every movement he did. "Slowly, Yeo." You tell him. With every move, he waits for you to give the signal to move.

Once he is fully in, you stay there for a moment to adjust to his size. Feeling tears coming in from the pain and he wipes them away as he kisses your lips. "You're doing so good, my love. You feel so, so good." He praises you. "No one can make me feel how you make me feel." He kisses your cheeks, caressing your hair. You exhale, "Yeosang," You call to him, "I'm ready."

He lifts your leg, wanting to feel them both wrapped around him as his other one supports him as he hovers over you. He slowly thrusts in and out of you, groaning at the tightness around him. The way you suck in him, makes him want to lose control. Little by little the pain is gone and replaced with just pleasure.

You moan at the way he stretches you out so good. "Faster, please." You tell him as you clench around him. "Are you sure?" He asks you. "Do it." You tell him, sounding impatient causing him to chuckle at you, "Whatever my lady wants, she get's." He says as he places his hands behind your knees as he lifts your legs over you, giving you what you want.

You screamed at the new depth of pleasure this position gave you. "Tell me, how does it feel?" He asked you in between breaths. "I- Oh- So-o go-good." You try speaking out but it was no use, you were gone. You grabbed the sides on the pillows near you head as you bit your lip down, muffling your screams. Yeosang loved this new view of you, struggling to maintain your composure as your breast bounced with each thrust. "Touch yourself." He said.

"What?" You breathed out as you looked at him. "Touch yourself for me." He repeated. One of your hands let go on the pillow as you trailed it down your stomach to your clit. You rubbed yourself, jolting in the overwhelming pleasure it gave you. "Yeosang, I think I'm- I'm close-" you cut yourself off with a moan. "Me too Y/N." You loved the way he said your name in that deep tone.

He lets go of your legs, making you gasp in shock with the sudden movement as he hovers over you once more. "Finish with me, my love. I know you can do it." He tells you as you nodded, hands gripping onto his shoulders. Soon enough you felt as if a knot undid itself. You moaned out, feeling like you're seeing white from this overwhelming feeling. He leans down and kiss you as he swallows your moans, moaning into yours as as he cock twitches at his release.

Slowly he rides out both of your highs, laying down on top of you as your hands take home in his hair. Both of your hot, sweaty, sticky bodies, but you both didn't care. You felt as if you were in heaven right now.

The morning light shined into the chamber, causing you to groan as you used your hand to cover your eyes. You heard a chuckle in-front of you. You parted your fingers, looking through them and saw Yeosang sitting his bench, back leaning against wall with his arms crossed. "What are you doing up?" You asked him as you slowly sat up, bringing the sheets up to cover your chest. He stands up and walks to you, cupping your face, "I wanted to watch you sleep. You looked beautiful."

You smiled at him, "Why don't you join me?" You asked him as you pulled him towards you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you kissed him. He smiled into the kiss, "I love you." He said. "I love you more." You responded.

He was propped up on one arm as his other one caressed your arm, watching you sleep again. He smiled brightly looking at the rose hairpin he was able to place in your hair without waking you up. He throws his arm over you and brings you closer to his embrace. For the first time in his life, he was happy.

THE END

#yeosang scenarios #yeosang #yeosang x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez hard hours #ateez yeosang #yeosang ateez #kang yeosang #ateez reactions #ateez #yeosang x you #yeosang x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fic

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inherdaze · 11 months ago

Text

jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over.

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat.

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.”

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely.

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.”

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death.

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed.

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?”

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs.

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky.

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market.

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.”

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around.

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times.

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor?

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent.

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back.

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you.

He doesn't.

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there.

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind.

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived.

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived.

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you.

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens.

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think.

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions.

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides.

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup.

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter.

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well.

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already.

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things.

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.”

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second.

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder.

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you.

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward.

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven).

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.”

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.”

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home.

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass.

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold!

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you.

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants.

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.”

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.”

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him.

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too.

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves.

“I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated.

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.”

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that).

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning.

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless.

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has.

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do).

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead.

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away.

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage.

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.”

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.”

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help.

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.”

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.”

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside.

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you.

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.”

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively.

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi.

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.”

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.”

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response.

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean.

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright.

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion.

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.”

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.”

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue.

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.”

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter.

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.”

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts.

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.”

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay.

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.”

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out.

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.”

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed.

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way.

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on.

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love.

You peer down into the pot.

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.”

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way.

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.”

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again.

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste.

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own.

Your fingers twitch.

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.”

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes.

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut.

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor.

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen.

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.”

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face.

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love.

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share.

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable.

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you.

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn.

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?”

It’s a little loose.

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching.

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure.

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you).

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one.

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space.

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand.

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door.

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him.

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs.

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers.

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.”

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you.

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay).

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.”

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush.

Finally, he fesses up.

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.”

You see Kiyoomi make a face.

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.”

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens.

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?”

The both of you choke.

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening.

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated.

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.”

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes.

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way.

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response.

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around.

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe.

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around.

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward.

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole.

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi.

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—”

“Miya.”

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.”

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush.

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you.

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side.

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.”

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly.

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left.

“Miya told me to confess to you.”

Your blood runs cold. Confess…?

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it.

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room.

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day.

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously.

“I wish you could come with me.”

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile.

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say.

“Goodnight, angel.”

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does).

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done.

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it.

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy.

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door.

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige.

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely.

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.”

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you.

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb.

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day.

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in.

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.”

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.”

Your mouth drops open.

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.”

You stay rooted still.

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.”

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together.

(He wants to).

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt.

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him.

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please.

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear.

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name.

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in.

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!”

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.”

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll.

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you.

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly.

“I love you, Kiyoomi.”

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you.

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!”

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.”

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes.

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?”

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again.

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.”

He gives an approving cluck.

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand.

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe.

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around.

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock.

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.”

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately.

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips.

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?”

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.”

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.”

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love.

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you.

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.”

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!”

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!”

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—”

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own.

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

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