#is it possible......... for a romance to bloom

[raqi-marr]

important disclaimer: this post is not intended as a criticism of HDG, it's purely just a thing i've been wondering about

so a lot of people refer to HDG as the BPD Favourite Personing Experience:tm: and i think this is largely accurate to most(? at least a lot of) HDG stories. what i mean by this is, in terms of at least screen time from the protags (e.g., stuff we see them doing as opposed to what they do outside of what the author writes about), the average HDG protagonist spends about 95% of their time with their affini post-domestication. and this is fairly heavily implied to be pretty much the norm for most affini and their florets

this is totally fine ofc, it fits with the whole "this setting is all about having The Ideal Completely Unrealistic Relationship" theme of HDG. but more and more lately I've been wondering about like, if one was to view a slightly more realistic take on HDG in which affini did other things than dote on their floret for 16 hours a day, what would that actually look like? irl pet owners don't usually spend more than a few hours a day actively interacting with their pets (if even that honestly); in HDG florets are closer to a mixture of romantic partner and pet so i'd still expect this to be like at least 8 hours a day for an affini, but i guess just like, it would be interesting to see affini Do Other Stuff

one of the central pillars of the compact is that it is so automated that affini can just fuck off and plant themselves in a forest for 500 years and nothing will stop working. this is integral to supporting the BPD Fantasy:tm: but it actually sort of bugs me from a worldbuilding perspective because A) there is no system even hypothetically possible that could be run with this little amount of involvement, B) most stories actually *don't* depict this like, at all. like i have never seen a story actually explain how the fuck it is that the compact just Keeps On Working in this near magical way, it's just mentioned as a handwave every time it comes up

i am of course well aware that, for all this is the autism setting, most people are still here for plommy romance rather than worldbuilding; i just happen to be here for worldbuilding first and plommy romance second so it sticks in my head a bit

probably gonna look into fleshing this out when It Takes Time gets to a part where raqi is actually in affini society. stories talk a lot about the compact's legion of 10 quadrillion clerks and all the bureaucracy, but what about the engineers? who actually makes (or grows) affini starships? truthfully what this setting needs is a story in which an atomic compiler breaks down and Daveina Handyvine, 75th Bloom who graduated from the Triangulum School of Galactic Phytoelectroengineering with an honors in quantum entanglement comes to repair it

the interlude in divaricated about "finally, no more fucking screws" was really good, but im pretty sure there has to be an affini industrial engineering corps somewhere; i don't think they can have fully automated starship production, there have to be plants out there handling some of the more specialist parts by hand

ultimately this entire post is just about how i have gotten to the point where hdg is more interesting to me as an actual setting than a smut writing space. its just such a fun and interesting universe to interact in and all the "haha plommy hot" stuff has taken second place for me behind questions of "ok but how would all of this actually work in real life though"

[dayurno]

it's so cruel that they're making jean moreau play sports in college when his real place should be reading yuri fanfiction on ao3 and letting those little girls from madoka magic remind him love exists again

[vaguely-concerned]

having seen at least the rough outlines of all the romances now I have to say that I think emmrich's is probably objectively the best in terms of coherence and completeness of story arc (with the understanding that ultimately the 'best' romance is whichever one makes YOUR heart sing anyway so objectivity is a silly thing to claim that way, it just felt like it's the arc with the most well-paced focused content and the least dangling threads)... but lucanis' is my favourite haha. just. the whole kneeling before your beloved full of reverence but without any of the distance that usually implies??? his complete undramatic certainty and calm in every scene with rook after this, having spent the whole game caught between fear and longing???? mr. lives in a pantry but it says nothing about my psyche don't worry about it it's purely for tactical reasons that I keep myself contained in a small dark room not entirely unlike a cell, love among the parsnips -- finally coming to rook in their room and it's so comfortable and comforting???? after all the times rook supports and comforts him through the game he's finally able to return the same to them when they need it while being so calm and steady and it's so fucking sweet and feels so effortless and with no price attached?????? he basically assigns himself the role of your bodyguard and he WILL stab a god over it??????????????? the turn to protector (which was in his heart all along longing to get out and find a place) of it all????? he sounds like he's found himself unexpectedly stumbling into such a soul-lightening state of revelatory existential relief, full on 'you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves' mary oliver style, and he goes and he shares that with rook and protectively envelops them in it when they're hurting??????????????????????????? hello for the maker's sake hello can anyone hear me?????

[flowergirl-nextdoor]

koisenu futari ep. 1 (2022) i will be your bloom ep. 7 (2022) screenwriter: yoshida erika

[hopecomesbacktolife]

not me reading this definitely m/f romance novel but reading heavily into every interaction between the main character and her best friend…

[parlerenfleurs]

I haven't seen Severance but I've heard of the premise, and what intrigues me is... (in a Watsonian way ->) why? What could possibly be advantageous about having someone who, cognitively, never leaves work, only knows the workplace, doesn't have a life outside of work? I would imagine the justification might be oh, no more personal life so everyone is more focused on work all the time, no distractions (maybe also to keep corporate secrets or something)? Except we don't work like that, we need enrichment, and my first thought is that both halves would first go crazy because of the "not remembering half of your life" part, but especially the half who works because that half never sees the sun, the beach, the mountain, a movie, a book, a lunch with friends, gardening, sex, a comfy bed etc etc. I think as the work-half I would HATE myself for doing this to myself.

I'm really curious what they are doing with this premise, so I will watch it at some point (so please no spoilers to disprove me or anything, I will find out myself :) )

[faaun]

u don’t need to be qualified, i just want a friendly voice!! anyway: today i was on a second date with this girl i met on tinder, and it was nice. like the conversation flowed and i had a good time, but there was no chemistry i guess? like there wasn’t a ✨spark✨ or anything, it was just comfortable. i’ve been on plenty of dates before but never got past a third one with anyone, let alone been in a relationship (even though i desperately want one lol). she texted me saying she would like to see me again. should i give this a chance or keep chasing that spark? i’ve only felt it with one person before but it didn’t work out with her, obviously

hi ! this is actually how it was for me and my ex, i didn't rly feel a spark on our dates but i did feel comfortable, like hanging out w an old friend :) we eventually got together and had a 1yr+ relationship, and i rly don't regret it! we're still good friends and i think a part of that is having had that sort of friendly vibe from the start

it's all your choice, but i think maybe stop trying to chase the spark w this particular person, and just enjoy their company! if it is the case that they're clearly looking for something more w you and you don't want that w them, or maybe they feel a spark but you don't, then absolutely communicate that w them! but otherwise, it might be worth just meeting them! dating can be fun bc you can see several ppl at once, you can look for The Spark elsewhere and in the meanwhile enjoy a friendship/fun hangouts w this person <3 it's only the 3rd date, so you don't have to pick between them and others right away i think !

[wonsiwon]

a crown between us. y.jw

synopsis: in the halls of the palace, where secrets are dressed in silk and love is the greatest betrayal, a maid finds herself caught in a dangerous entanglement with the crown prince, jungwon. though bound by duty and royalty, their stolen glances and whispered promises bloom into something neither can escape. but when the queen announces his arranged marriage, everything shatters.

pairing: prince! heir to future throne! jungwon x maid! reader

genre: historical royal romance, angst, forbidden love, smut

content warning: forbidden love, royalty vs. heart, emotional betrayal, class divide, political manipulation, dramatic confrontations, sacrifice, smut.

a/n: hii, i was finally able to upload this small project on which i have been working for several weeks (maybe months). i often run out of ideas or have a mental block to continue writing, so it usually takes me a few days for that inspiration to come back with more ideas. i want to clarify that I tried as much as I could and tried as much as possible that the dialogues had that style of royalty, noble, old-fashioned or dramatic. i hope you enjoy this it really took me long time and I hope you at least like it a little.

i. the garden kiss

your plans that night were simple. finish polishing the candelabras in the east wing, drop off the basket of white linens in the laundry, and finally retreat to your quarters to rest. nothing unusual. nothing that hinted you’d end up with the prince’s lips pressed against yours, hidden behind a bush covered in blooming hydrangeas.

but here you are.

your heart racing, his highness’s fingers barely resting on your waist like even the slightest touch might shatter you. his breath is warm, scented faintly with jasmine tea and unsaid promises, and his eyes… those eyes that never stop looking at you like you’re the most treasured secret in the kingdom.

“milady…” he whispers, pulling back just slightly, his fingers still on your cheek. “do you know how long i’ve longed for this?”

you can hardly answer. because even though it’s been weeks of sneaking off to see him, you’re still not used to how it feels to be kissed by a prince, the prince jungwon, who looks at you like you’re anything but just a servant.

your dress hem is dusty with soil, your hands still a little rough from the day’s work, and your hair is poorly tied with a frayed ribbon. but he never seems to care. he never has.

“my lord… if we’re caught…”

his brow furrowed. just a little. that gesture he made whenever something bothered him, even though he tried not to show it.

“milady…” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper. “i don’t care if we get caught. i couldn’t find you all morning. where were you?”

your hands tremble slightly at how close he is, how being with him like this feels both terrifying and perfect.

“i was… working.” you whisper, eyes falling to the flowers near your feet. it’s hard to look at him when he speaks with that kind of gentleness. “as i’m supposed to.”

he lets out a soft sigh, low and quiet. then his hand lifts to your face, tilting your chin with such delicate care that your breath hitches in your throat. his touch is gentle, too gentle for someone of his status. a prince shouldn’t touch a servant like that.

“working?” he repeats, raising a brow. “don’t you know that seeing you is far more important than any royal duty?”

he makes a dramatic little face, pretending to be offended, but his eyes sparkle with softness. his thumb gently brushes your cheek, and that stupidly charming smile of his doesn’t budge.

“i was about to launch a kingdom-wide search. or worse… interrogate every guard in the castle. do you know how bad that would look in the official records?”

you giggle softly, shaking your head, heat blooming on your cheeks.

“you missed me that much?”

“that much?” he echoes, smirking. “i almost wrote you a tragic letter and slipped it under your pillow. in golden ink, of course. signed: his royal highness, the hopelessly desperate prince.”

you cover your face with both hands, laughing while he leans closer, clearly proud of himself.

“what was the letter going to say?” you ask peeking your eyes through your fingers.

“something like… ‘my heart beats only for you, my radiant flower from the northern wing of the castle.’” he says, lowering his voice with mock seriousness, pressing his forehead against yours. “though… i still have time to write it. maybe it’ll convince you to sneak off with me more often.”

you bite your lip, heart fluttering like crazy. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re enchanting, milady.” he says without missing a beat, whispering so close you can almost feel the smile on his lips. “now give me five more minutes before duty drags you away again, will you?

“actually… “you murmur, glancing toward the dark path. “i’m done for the day. i was on my way to my quarters.”

“to sleep?” he asks, with a look of mild betrayal, like you just insulted him.

you nod, a bit amused, and he immediately steps ahead, subtly blocking your way like it’s a royal obligation.

“milady, i’m afraid i cannot allow that.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow, trying not to laugh.

“i spent the whole morning without seeing you.” he says, bowing dramatically like he’s putting on a show. “and now you want to simply… go to sleep? without letting me steal at least a few smiles?”

“jungwon…”

“yes, milady?” he responds with that face. that impossibly sweet, infuriatingly charming face.

he takes your hand and gently lifts it to his lips without breaking eye contact. his mouth brushes over your knuckles in the softest kiss imaginable, warm and lingering.

“just five minutes.” he whispers. “i’ll let you go after. though… i can’t promise i won’t steal one more kiss first.”

“just one…” you say, lifting a finger.

“one very long one.” he corrects with a mischievous grin, and before you can protest, he’s already pulling you in, his nose brushing yours, his voice soft enough to make your knees go weak. “i can’t help it, milady. there’s something about you that makes me want to break every rule in the kingdom.”

you fall silent, heart thudding faster than any royal horse could gallop. he leans in a little closer, and just when you think he’s about to kiss you, he murmurs.

“besides… i can’t let you go to sleep without wishing you sweet dreams”

“you’re going to wish me sweet dreams with your lips?” you ask, trying not to giggle. you bite your lip, and of course he notices, he always does. his eyes drop to your mouth, and he smiles again.

“of course.”

and then he does. it’s a soft kiss, sweet, so tender it feels like it was stolen out of a fairytale. and in that moment, you forget the castle walls, the titles, the fact that he’s the crown prince and you’re just a servant.

because right there, between bushes and whispers, he’s just jungwon. your jungwon.

after your encounter with the prince you made your way to the shared servants quarters, tucked away in the quieter wing of the castle. far from the golden halls and polished staircases that royalty walked. your room was small, simple, and lit by a few flickering candles. stone walls surrounded you, cold and silent, but the soft glow and warmth of your friendship with gisselle made it feel almost safe.

the candles were still lit, though dim, their wax spilling over the edges of their holders, pooling like forgotten time. the room was quiet, save for the soft creak of the wooden floor beneath your bare feet. your nightgown brushed against your ankles as you opened the door slowly, breath still uneven.

as soon as you stepped inside, gisselle sat up in her bed, eyes wide.

“finally!” she whispered sharply, sheets rustling as she motioned for you to come closer. “i was about to sneak out and find you. where on earth have you been?”

you closed the door gently and padded across the floor, not to your bed, but to hers. you dropped to your knees beside it, heart thumping, face flushed.

“i saw him, gisselle.” you whispered, breathless.

she clutched your arm immediately, her eyes even wider now.

“was it him? the prince?” she nearly gasped, then caught herself and slapped a hand over her mouth. “good god, what if someone had seen you?”

“no one did. i ran into him on my way back to the quarters. he came to see me.”

“oh my—” gisselle fell back onto her pillow, clutching it to her chest. “tell me, was it tender? did he call you milady?”

your heart skipped at the memory, his voice so gentle, like you were something delicate in his hands.

“yes..” you whispered, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “he called me milady. and… it was like a dream, gisselle. i don’t know how to explain it. everything just felt… perfect.”

her eyes sparkled with excitement. she leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper, like she feared the walls might lean in too.

“i can’t believe it. you’re really living a fairytale.” she grinned. “did he… did he kiss you? like..” she paused, eyes flicking around the room. “like a prince would?”

you swallowed hard. the memory was still fresh, still warm. your fingers brushed your lips without thinking.

“he did.” you whispered, shy. “it was soft. gentle. like he thought i might break if he wasn’t careful.” a laugh slipped out, light and breathless. “i never thought i’d feel like that… with him.”

gisselle gasped, her hand flying to her mouth again like she physically couldn’t contain her joy.

“oh my stars..” she breathed. “you’re not just some servant anymore, are you? you’re the prince’s secret. this is madness. pure, beautiful madness.”

you chuckled, glancing toward the soft candlelight flickering on the nightstand. shadows danced across the stone walls, quiet and warm.

“he’s royal, gisselle.” you murmured, your smile faltering. “if anyone finds out… it could mean trouble. for both of us. for everything.”

gisselle’s expression softened. she reached out and took your hand in both of hers, her touch grounding.

“i know.” she said gently. “but it’s his choice, isn’t it? if he wants to be with you… then who’s to say no? he sees you for who you really are. not just some servant girl.”

you bit your lip, her words comforting, but the worry still lingered like a shadow in the back of your mind.

“but i am just a servant.” you whispered. “and he’s the prince. his family, his kingdom… they’ll never accept it.”

gisselle squeezed your hand a little tighter, pulling you closer.

“forget them, y/n.” she said with quiet conviction. “you’ve got a love story worth telling, and no crown or title can take that from you.”

you sighed, the weight in your chest easing a little. just enough. for a moment, everything felt simpler. you closed your eyes, thinking of him. the way his lips had brushed yours.

“i don’t know what will happen.” you murmured. “but for now… i’ll treasure it. i’ll treasure him.”

gisselle leaned back into her pillow, her eyes warm with affection as she looked at you.

“you’re so hopelessly in love.” she teased, voice soft and fond.

“am i?” you smiled, resting your head against the edge of her bed, gazing up at the flickering candlelight.

she giggled, nudging you gently with her foot under the blankets.

“yes” she said. “and somehow, you’re going to make it all work. i just know it.”

you smiled, squeezing her hand once more. her warmth, her words, made everything feel a little less impossible.

“thank you, gisselle..” you whispered. “for everything.”

she smiled softly, voice like a lullaby.

“always.”

ii. lavender hands

the scent of lavender clung to the air, subtle and clean, as you stood in the linen room, carefully folding pressed sheets into perfect thirds. it was quiet, peacefully, so save for the rustle of fabric and the occasional creak of the old wooden shelves that lined the walls. sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting golden beams across the room like soft ribbons of light.

you didn’t hear the door at first. not until the latch clicked gently, then closed again. your head lifted quickly, heart stuttering when your eyes met his.

“your highness—”

“shh.” jungwon grinned, finger to his lips as he stepped inside. “i should scold you for calling me that.”

you stared at him, wide-eyed. “you shouldn’t be here. if anyone were to see—”

“they won’t.” he said simply, voice soft as he approached you with featherlight steps. “you fold these sheets too quickly. i hardly have time to catch a glimpse of you.”

you sighed, turning away to keep your hands busy. “i have work to do.”

“and i am only here to assist, mylady.” he said, lifting the edge of a sheet beside you, mimicking your folds with little success.

you tried not to laugh, but the way he fumbled the corners and stared at the linen as though it had offended him, it tugged a smile from you.

“you’re hopeless.”

jungwon beamed. “and yet, you are the one who’s hopelessly pretty.”

you turned, sheet half-folded in your arms, eyes narrowing with a blush warming your cheeks. “that’s improper.”

“so is sneaking in here to see you.” he murmured, stepping closer. his voice dropped, lower now, just for you. “and yet, i can’t seem to stop myself.”

his fingers brushed yours as he took the linen from your arms, folding it with surprising care this time. his eyes didn’t leave your face.

“every hour i’m away, i wonder where you are. what you’re doing. if you think of me.”

you looked away, heart racing. “you should be with your court. preparing for—”

“a future that bores me endlessly.” he finished for you. “i’d rather be here. with you. in rooms that smell like lavender. watching you tuck corners.”

you turned back to him, brows furrowed. “jungwon…”

“may i hold your hand?” he asked softly, like it was sacred.

you hesitated. then slowly reached for him, your fingers slipping into his like puzzle pieces long separated.

he let out a breathless smile, as if he’d just been handed the world.

“forgive me.” he said, raising your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. “but i find you so terribly lovely.”

you couldn’t speak. not with the way his eyes looked at you, like you were something precious.

“you make it so difficult to stay away.” he whispered, his hands moving from your waist to gently cup your face.

he took his time, studying your face with such intent that it made your heart race. his thumb traced along your cheekbone, and you caught the small, soft gasp that escaped him when his fingers brushed a lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear.

you laughed under your breath, cheeks still warm where his hand had been. “you’re ridiculous.” you whispered, voice barely louder than the fluttering in your chest.

jungwon grinned, the boyish kind, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made your heart stumble. “ridiculously in love with you, perhaps.”

you nudged his shoulder, trying and failing to look stern. “you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“but it’s true.” he leaned against the shelf beside you, hands tucked behind his back, as if resisting the urge to reach for you again. “besides, you blush every time. it’s very rewarding.”

“you’re impossible.” you muttered, turning to the linen stack again, but you smiled, and he saw it.

you pretended to be busy continuing folding, but he stepped closer, his shoulder brushing yours lightly.

“do you ever think..” he said, voice low. “about sneaking away? just for a day. no titles. no expectations. just you and me and the world outside the gates.”

you tilted your head, the idea painting soft, wild colors in your mind. “what would we even do?”

he brightened. “we’d eat sweet bread from the baker’s cart. get our boots dirty in the fields. maybe i’d pretend not to know how to ride a horse just so you’d help me.”

you snorted. “you’re an excellent rider.”

“then maybe I’ll pretend to get lost. that way you’d have to find me.”

“jungwon—”

“and when you do..” he continued with a playful grin. “i’d thank you with a kiss.”

your hands paused, eyes flicking up to meet his. the air between you filled with something golden and warm.

“i think you just want an excuse to kiss me.” you said softly, smile tugging at your lips,

he leaned in a little, lowering his voice like a secret. “i don’t need one.”

your heart flipped. and maybe it was the sunlight or the lavender or the way he was looking at you like the world had slowed down, but you didn’t stop him this time.

his lips brushed yours in the gentlest of kisses, barely there, like a promise.

when you opened your eyes again, he looked dazed, a little stunned with happiness. “i’ve been wanting to do that since the first time i saw you in this room.” he admitted.

you smiled, shy but radiant. “then you should’ve come to fold linens sooner.”

he laughed, full and bright, the sound echoing off the shelves.

“i’m never missing a laundry day again.” he said solemnly.

you giggled, swatting lightly at his chest, but he caught your hand and twirled you in a slow, clumsy circle, right there in the middle of the linen room, amidst half-folded sheets and sunshine.

“what are you doing?” you laughed breathlessly as you stumbled into him.

“practicing for our secret royal ball.” he said with a wink. “it’ll be just the two of us. dress code: aprons and laundry dust.”

you rested your forehead against his, still laughing. “you’re unbelievable.”

“you love it.” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours.

“i might.” you admitted, so softly he nearly missed it.

he stilled.

“say it again..” he murmured, his voice suddenly shy, like he couldn’t believe he’d heard right.

you looked up at him, eyes round and warm. “i might love you.”

his breath hitched. and then he kissed you again, this time giddy and just a little clumsy, like he couldn’t believe you were really there, saying things like that.

you both dissolved into giggles when your teeth bumped. he kissed you again to make up for it. and again. and again.

“you taste like honey.” he whispered against your lips.

“it’s probably the tea from the kitchens.” you replied, cheeks aching from smiling.

“no.” he said, nose brushing yours once more. “it’s just you.”

and there, in a room filled with nothing but fresh linen and sunbeams, jungwon kissed you like the world had finally gotten something right.

iii.

the room was too quiet.

you could feel it in your fingertips as you poured tea into a cup. your movements steady, but not calm. there was no one else in the chamber. no guards, no attendants. just you… and prince ri ki.

ri ki was the second-youngest of the royal line, born into silk and sharp expectations. where jungwon carried the warmth of spring, ri ki was winter, graceful, exact, and difficult to read. his words always seemed carefully chosen, his presence always perfectly composed. he was the kind of boy who wore velvet like armor and wielded silence like a sword.

he sat at the far end of the long table, posture flawless, gaze unreadable. his gloves rested beside his untouched plate, fingers steepled beneath his chin as if the entire room was waiting for his permission to breathe.

you bowed politely. “will there be anything else, your highness?”

“sit.” he said.

you blinked.

“…pardon?”

he nodded to the chair beside him, not unkindly. “i asked you to sit. not as a command, but a courtesy.”

after a heartbeat of hesitation, you obeyed, lowering yourself slowly into the seat. your hands folded in your lap, your breath held.

the silence stretched.

ri ki turned his head, studying you, not cruelly, not unkindly. just… watching.

“you’ve been spending time with my brother.” he said at last.

your pulse stuttered.

you answered carefully. “he sometimes visits the servants’ quarters. he’s friendly.”

ri ki tilted his head just slightly. “you think i’m such a fool?”

you stayed quiet.

“i’ve seen the way he looks at you..” ri ki continued, voice like polished stone. “i’ve also seen the way you look at him.”

your throat tightened. “i never meant—”

he cut you off raising a hand, not accusing, just tired.

“for it to become something real?” he finished, arching a brow. “it already has. and that’s the danger.”

he leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. “i’ve lived in this palace long enough to know the rules, even the unspoken ones. who’s allowed to look at whom. who’s allowed to want. and who’s not.”

you stared at your hands in your lap, fingers curled too tightly.

he sighed. not cold. not even annoyed. just… older than he looked. like someone who had been watching too long from behind a wall of gold.

“i’m not here to threaten you..” he said finally. “i came because jungwon trusts me. and i trust him. but love, especially his, is no small thing.”

you lifted your head.

“he’s always been brave.” ri ki went on. “but lately, i see something more in him. something… reckless. like he’s standing too close to a fire and smiling anyway.”

you breathed. “and you think that’s me?”

“no.” ri ki looked at you calmly. “i think it’s both of you.”

you swallowed, hard. “so what are you going to do?”

“nothing.” he stood, slipping his gloves back on one finger at a time. “at least… not yet.”

you rose with him. “why?”

he paused, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. “because for once, it doesn’t look like a scandal. or a game. it looks like something real. and if it is… you’ll need more than each other to survive it.”

he met your eyes one last time.

“you’ll need to be strong. careful. and above all… silent.” ri ki nodded once. “take care.”

you stood as well, heart still pounding. “your majesty, you’re not going to tell anyone?”

he turned for the door, then paused. “like i said, im not going to do nothing. but be careful.” he said over his shoulder. “not everyone in this palace will be as kind as i am.”

and then he was gone.

you stood there in the quiet, hands trembling slightly, not from fear, but from the truth that had just been laid bare.

because now, you knew someone else had seen the flame.

iv. mylady

the ballroom was packed.

music swelled from the golden chamber like waves crashing against your skull, strings, trumpets, voices, clinking glasses, laughter that didn’t sound happy, not really.

you didn’t belong there. you were just passing through the corridor when you saw him bolt.

jungwon.

a blur of dark blue royal suit, hair combed back too perfectly, expression unreadable as he walked fast, then faster, then ran. no one stopped him. they were too busy bowing.

you didn’t think. you followed.

and now you were here. in the stables. the royal stables, to be exact. where the scent of hay and saddle leather replaced perfume and wine, and moonlight poured in through high wooden slats.

jungwon was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, crown gone, his white undershirt wrinkled beneath layers of discarded uniform.

his knees were drawn up. his elbows rested on them.

he looked…small.

like a boy.

not a prince.

not someone with the weight of the entire court on his back.

“you’re not supposed to be here.” he said softly, not even looking up.

“you’re not either.” you whispered.

he looked up then. his eyes were red. not crying, but close. his jaw tightened when your gaze met his.

“did they send you?”

you sat beside him slowly. your skirts rustled. “no. i just saw you leave.”

he didn’t answer right away.

you watched his hands. they were shaking. he kept flexing his fingers like he couldn’t get the feeling back into them.

you swallowed. “what happened?”

jungwon let out a humorless laugh. “what han’t happened?”

he leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the beams above, silent for a moment.

“my uncle’s drunk..” he started. “my mother’s furious because i didn’t want to dance with the viscount’s daughter. the duke from glenmare asked me what my plan was for international strategy, and i—I’m eighteen.”

you glanced over. he looked so tired.

“i just wanted to breathe..” he muttered. “but then they said i needed to smile more. and shake hands. and bow. and act like i give a damn about any of it.” he turned his head to you suddenly. “and i couldn’t even find you.”

your throat tightened. “me?”

“you always find me when i need air..” he whispered. “but you weren’t there. i couldn’t see you anywhere in that room.”

you were frozen. you never realized he looked for you like that. you thought you were invisible most of the time.

“i was in the west wing..” you said softly. “cleaning.”

he nodded slowly. “of course.” he sighed and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees.

silence again.

but not uncomfortable. just…settled. after a moment, you reached over and touched his hand. he tensed. then relaxed. your fingers stayed there and jungwon stared at them for a second, then intertwined his with yours without looking at you.

his hands were warm now.

“sometimes i wish i wasn’t the prince..” he said quietly. “sometimes i just want to be jungwon.”

you didn’t say anything. instead, you leaned your head on his shoulder. his breath caught. he looked down, stunned at first, but then his whole body seemed to settle. like your touch reset something inside him.

“you feel like peace..” he whispered.

you shut your eyes. he was still holding your hand. your pinky was twitching because of how close he was. you were just a maid. you weren’t supposed to be here. you weren’t supposed to comfort him like this.

but you were. and he was letting you.

“do you ever think about leaving?” he asked. “just…running off? starting over somewhere they don’t know your name?”

you nodded. “all the time.”

jungwon turned to look at you, really look this time. his lashes were long in the moonlight. his eyes soft.

“would you go with me?” he asked.

you blinked. your chest tightened. “what?”

“if i asked..” he said. “would you come with me?”

you wanted to say yes. god, you wanted to scream it.

but instead, you whispered. “is that what you really want?”

he didn’t answer right away. his gaze dropped to your lips. his face was close, so close you could count every texture of his skin.

“no.” he said finally. “what i really want is to kiss you. right now.”

your breath caught.

“but i won’t.” he added. “not unless you want it too.”

your fingers squeezed his, you looked up at him and you nodded. that was all it took.

jungwon didn’t hesitate. his hand came up to your face, gently cupping your cheek like he was scared you’d vanish if he touched you too roughly. his lips found yours, warm, slow at first.

then he kissed you again. and again, deeper this time.

you moved closer without thinking, climbing into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs, skirts bunched around you. his hands settled on your waist, gripping like he needed something to hold onto.

he pulled back just barely, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard. “tell me if this is too much..” he whispered.

“it’s not..” you said, voice shaky but sure.

his mouth found yours again, more desperate this time. you felt his fingers slide up your back, warm under the fabric of your dress, holding you tighter. your own hands moved up into his hair, finally messy, the way you liked it, the way no one else was allowed to see.

he kissed you like he’d been waiting forever. like he didn’t care about the kingdom or the rules or the titles.

just you. just this.

when his lips left yours, they found your jaw, then your neck, slow, hot kisses that made your breath hitch. you felt dizzy. not from fear, not from nerves. from how real it all felt.

his hands roamed, careful but curious, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the bare skin where your dress had slipped just slightly off one shoulder. you gasped quietly when he kissed there, slow and lingering.

you rolled your hips slightly, testing the tension between you. he groaned, quiet, breathy, right against your collarbone, and you felt it, the proof of his want pressing up into you through layers that suddenly felt like too much.

“milady..” he muttered, voice low and rough. “are you.. sure about this?”

you nodded, hands tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

jungwon let out a short breath that could’ve been a laugh, but he was too busy dragging his mouth down your throat, kissing a slow path over your skin. your fingers finally got the last button undone, revealing more of his chest, pale, warm, already flushed. he looked up at you as your hands explored him, watching your face like every move you made was the answer to something he’d been aching to know.

“are you quite certain?” he asked again, one hand slipping up your thigh, pushing your skirts higher. l.

you nodded, breath catching where your fingers brushed his chest. “yes… are you?”

a flicker of colour bloomed on his cheeks. “i’ve never… not once. not with anyone.”

your eyes met his, wide and surprised. “nor have i.”

for a moment, neither of you moved.

the stillness between you felt reverent, sacred. not rushed, not impulsive, just two souls baring themselves.

jungwon exhaled shakily, his thumb brushing your cheek. “then we take our time..” he murmured. “we learn… together.”

your lips curved into the smallest smile. “alright.”

his kiss came slowly, deliberately, with every ounce of care he could give. his lips ghosted over yours as though you were something fragile, something royal in your own right. your hands slipped into his hair, anchoring yourself to him as the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

you helped him undo his pants, fumbling a little with the fabric, both of you shaky and flushed. by then he was free, hard and flushed and already throbbing against your thigh. your underwear came off too, discarded somewhere behind you, forgotten in the soft hay.

“i’ve no notion what i’m doing, mylady.” he admitted softly, flushed and breathless.

“nor i…” you whispered back, a nervous laugh escaping. “but i trust you.”

“may i…?” he asked, voice catching.

you nodded. “slowly.”

and he did. you took him in carefully, inch by inch, both of you holding your breath. it stretched and burned a little, but it wasn’t bad.

his fingers gripped your hips as though anchoring himself. “you’re alright?”

“yes.” you breathed. “just… give me a moment.”

“say the word, and i’ll stop.” he whispered.

but instead, you kissed him.

your bodies moved in soft rhythm, unsure but willing, each motion a question answered with breath and touch. his head rested against your shoulder, his voice a quiet sound of wonder each time you rocked into him.

there was no bed. no privacy. just the hay, the moonlight, and the way he held you like this moment might break him.

“sweet mercy...” he groaned, head tipping back against the stable wall.

you couldn’t think. could barely breathe. all you could do was move, slow at first, easing yourself into the stretch, the fullness. his hands gripped your hips, holding you like he didn’t want to let go.

“mylady, look at me.” he whispered.

and when you did his eyes burned into yours.

“jungwon..”

you moved together, slow, grinding, chasing the edge like it was the only thing that mattered. each roll of your hips dragged a whimper from your throat and a quiet curse from his. he kissed you through it, messy, desperate, open-mouthed kisses as your bodies met again and again.

you felt him throb inside you, knew he was close.

“mylady..” he begged.

you came together quietly, holding each other close, his breath mixing with yours. and a moment later, you followed, falling apart against him, your face buried in his shoulder.

neither of you moved for a long time. you both stayed there, tangled in silence.

his breathing was still uneven, lips slightly parted as he buried his face in your hair. one of his hands lay over your back, fingers twitching gently.

your heart thudded slow but steady, matching his. it felt like the world had paused around you. no court. no crown. just sweat-slick skin, shallow breaths, and the press of two people who shouldn’t have had this, but did.

you exhaled first. and then, softly, barely audible, you speak. “ri ki knows about us.”

jungwon didn’t move. he blinked once. then again.

slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you. his eyes were puffy but his brows drew together with concern.

“…what?” he whispered.

you swallowed. “your brother knows about this.”

jungwon was quiet. his expression didn’t twist into panic, he just leaned his head back against the wooden beam behind him, staring at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling.

“don’t worry about him.” he murmured. “he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

you nodded slowly, fingers still resting lightly on his chest. “i know. but he’s also loyal. to the crown.”

jungwon looked back at you. there was something unreadable in his eyes now. something sharp beneath the softness. “he’s loyal to me.”

you held his gaze. “are you sure that’s enough?”

he didn’t answer right away. outside, a horse shuffled in its stall. the night breeze creeping through the cracks in the stable walls.

jungwon reached for your hand again, intertwining your fingers.

“i’ll protect us..” he said quietly. “i swear it.”

and you believed him.

v.

the morning sun had barely crested the hills when jungwon stepped onto the practice grounds.

his boots sank slightly into the soft earth, dew still clinging to the grass. his tunic stuck to his back with sweat, already, though it was barely past dawn and the guards who usually assisted him were dismissed.

jungwon exhaled through gritted teeth, blade locked against ri ki’s. both brothers stood at the center of the courtyard, boots planted firm on cobblestone slick with dew.

“you’ve gone soft.” ri ki muttered, pushing back with a smirk.

jungwon twisted his wrist, parried, and stepped aside. “i’ve not.” he grunted. “you’re just insufferable this early.”

“speak for yourself, your highness.”

their swords clashed again, fast now, the rhythm sharp, prince to prince, brother to brother.

jungwon’s movements were aggressive. sharp turns. no hesitation. each strike carried more than just training, it carried frustration.

“you’re distracted.” ri ki said after another parry. “again.”

“and you’re irritating.” jungwon bit, swinging low. ri ki dodged, barely.

“not the first to say so.” they paused, swords crossed, faces close. ri ki studied him. “it’s her, isn’t it?”

jungwon’s jaw tightened. “say it again and i’ll knock your teeth out.”

ri ki lowered his sword.

“you truly believe you’ll keep her hidden forever?” he asked, more serious now. “you’ve always been daft when it comes to consequence, but this, this is foolish beyond reason.”

jungwon stepped back, sword still in hand.

“you think i do not know that?” he snapped. “you think i do not wake with dread in my gut each morn, wondering if mother’s already caught wind?”

“then why continue?”

jungwon looked away, silent for a moment. “because she’s the only thing that feels… honest.”

riki scoffed lightly. “how poetic. write her a sonnet then, not an obituary.”

jungwon turned to him sharply.

ri ki’s tone darkened. “she could die.” he said bluntly. “you know what mother is. you know what she’s done. you’ve seen it.”

a silence felt and jungwon’s knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword. he was breathing hard, but not from the drills.

he stared down at the sword.

ri ki continued, his tone cold. “if word of this reaches her, if she senses even a breath of rebellion, she will not speak of it. she will act.”

jungwon’s jaw clenched. “she would not dare harm her.”

ri ki’s gaze did not waver. “she would. and has. you are heir, jungwon. you were not raised to love. you were bred to rule.”

he felt it then. the doubt.

for the first time.

like rot in his lungs.

he’d always believed he could protect you. that if he loved hard enough, held you tight enough, it would be enough.

but what if it wasn’t?

what if he was dragging you into a fire, blindfolded and barefoot?

what if loving you was a death sentence?

ri ki sighed. “mother wants you ready for tomorrow’s.”

jungwon turned his head. “what is it now?”

“you leave by carriage this afternoon. the royal instructors have been summoned. they are to accompany you by carriage through the northern route.”

jungwon looked up sharply. “i was not told.”

“you’re to meet the princess. she’ll be seated beside you during supper.” ri ki said flatly.

jungwon’s heart sank.

“it begins.” ri ki added. “whether you like it or not.”

he gave jungwon a long look before he left.

vi.

the hour was far past decent.

moonlight stretched pale across the marble floors, and the long hall you crossed seemed to echo with silence. torches flickered low in their sconces, their flames casting golden shadows that danced across your path.

your skirts whispered with each step, arms tired from scrubbing, apron dusted with ash from the hearth. your hands were smudged faintly with soot, apron crumpled, hair tucked back loosely.

you moved quietly through the corridor, long and dimly lit, you just wanted to reach your chambers. you rubbed your arms absently, your shoulders aching. only a few more steps until a hand caught your waist.

you startled, breath caught in your throat, but before you could speak, a second hand came around, pressing gently over your mouth.

your back was against the wall in an instant.

warm breath touched your ear.

“hush.” the voice was low, familiar. your eyes widened as jungwon stepped into view.

his tunic was open slightly at the throat, the royal crest gleaming faint beneath the fabric. his hair was slightly tousled, as though he’d been running fingers through it all evening. he said nothing at first. just looked at you.

you blinked at him. “you scared me.”

“forgive me.” he murmured, brows furrowed as he stepped closer. “i did not intend to, i only… gods, i could not wait.”

your back pressed further into the stone as he closed the distance, eyes still searching his.

he looked tired.

“i’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

you straightened. “leaving?”

he nodded once. “just for a few days.” he reassured, his voice quiet in the empty corridor. his fingers curled gently at your waist. “nothing dangerous. just business. royal duties.”

you looked up at him, trying to read past the calm in his tone.

he was dressed simpler than usual, his dark tunic a bit wrinkled from rushing, the crest at his collar half-buttoned, and his hair messier than you’d ever seen it. like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times.

“will you miss me?” he asked, his head tilting slightly.

you shrugged, arms crossed loosely. “a little.”

he huffed a laugh. “liar.”

his arms came around you then, slow, deliberate, like he wasn’t sure you’d allow it. like he needed to be sure.

but you didn’t move away.

you let him hold you.

his arms slipped further around you then, drawing you in. slower this time, gentler. his head dropped to your shoulder, warm breath brushing your skin.

you didn’t move away.

his hold tightened a little, just enough to pull you closer. he didn’t speak right away, just stayed like that, forehead against your neck, fingers curling at your lower back.

“you’re tense.” you said quietly, hand brushing through his hair.

he hummed low in response, then leaned back just slightly to look at you. his eyes searched your face, soft, a bit heavy-lidded.

“am i?” he said with a small smirk.

you raised an eyebrow. “you look like you haven’t slept.”

“maybe i haven’t.”

his gaze flicked to your lips.

you felt your breath catch, just barely, and when he leaned in, reflexively you turned your face, shy, cheeks warming before you could stop it. not out of rejection, but out of memory. of that night. of how close you had been. how bare.

he noticed.

“ah..” he said under his breath, a small, knowing sound.

his hand simply moved to the back of your neck, thumb gently rubbing along your skin as his forehead came to rest against yours.

“you’re shy now?” he whispered, teasing.

you rolled your eyes, cheeks warm, eyes refusing to meet his.

jungwon hummed, gaze dropping to your lips, and he leaned closer. murmuring near your ear. “you weren’t shy last time. you—”

“don’t say it.”

“you begged, dove.”

“jungwon!”

he burst into quiet laughter, pulling you in with both arms now, clearly too entertained.

“you’re never seeing me off again.” you grumbled into his shoulder.

he smiled against your hair.

“too late. i’m already leaving with a memory i’ll take to my grave.”

you pulled back just enough to glare at him, only for him to steal that kiss after all, quick and soft, catching you off guard.

your breath caught and he smiled smugly.

“miss me properly, yeah?”

vii. just for a minute.

the days moved on like they always did.

your mornings began early, before the bells rang. you helped prep the main halls, swept ash from the fireplaces, and kept the west wing windows polished so the steward wouldn’t complain.

gisselle was the one who kept you sane.

she cornered you in the linen room two days after his departure, arms full of folded sheets and suspicion in her eyes.

“you’re quieter.” she said bluntly, dropping the stack on the shelf.

you blinked. “i’m tired.”

“tired, huh?” she echoed, clearly unimpressed. “you’re always tired. this is different.”

you didn’t answer, and she didn’t press. just gave you a look and passed you a basket of fresh towels.

“well, whatever’s keeping you up, tell it to let you sleep. you look like a sad candle.”

“a sad candle?”

“yes. all dim and droopy. it’s tragic.”

you huffed a laugh despite yourself.

afternoons were filled with errands, refilling water jugs, delivering notes between staff, helping the kitchen girls carry bread loaves up to the great hall.

nights were quiet.

gisselle snuck you extra biscuits from the kitchen. you returned her hairpins when she left them scattered across the vanity table. and sometimes you’d crawl into her bed with a sigh and ask if they feed him properly out there. gisselle could only said that he was a prince. he’ll survive.

one week passed. then another.

you did your duties. you kept your head down. you kept that folded parchment beneath your pillow. untouched.

no letters came. but you kept waking before the sun. just in case.

you found yourself, as always, in the same places. tidying the east wing, sweeping the hallways, delivering messages to the royal chambers. and yet, you carried on.

then, one evening as you were passing by the library, before you could even turn, hands were at your waist, lifting you from your thoughts and pulling you.

you barely had time to process it.

“what—jungwon?” you managed, though his name came out more like a question, a gasp, and you couldn’t quite place the confusion or the shock, both because you hadn’t expected him to be back and because, honestly, you hadn’t heard a thing.

he didn’t immediately speak, though his presence alone was enough to unsettle you. you finally turned your head to face him, your eyes searching his.

“when did you return?” you whispered, a bit breathless from the unexpected turn of events.

jungwon’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, there was something unreadable in them. the usual spark was gone, replaced with something deeper, unease, maybe?

“this morning.” he said, his voice quieter than usual. he took a small step back, but his hands never left your waist.

you frowned, noticing the way his brows were furrowed, the tension in his jaw. he was acting different, too still, too careful with every movement.

“you seem…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words. “what’s wrong?”

he gave a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “nothing’s wrong.”

but it didn’t sound convincing.

you tilted your head slightly, studying him, feeling the quiet pull between you as he remained unusually distant.

you watched him carefully, he couldn’t keep his gaze on you. instead, his eyes flicked around, scanning the corridor.

finally, after a few moments of silence, he met your eyes again, this time with a softer look.

“i missed you.” he said simply, already pulling you by the hand, into the familiar hush of the library.

it was quiet. lit only by candles. he let go of your hand then, and you rubbed your wrist out of habit, though it wasn’t sore. just warm. still tingling.

you turned away first, pretending to examine the nearest shelf. “you know i’m still working.”

“then consider this… an unauthorized break.”

you glanced over your shoulder. “what if someone finds us?”

he raised a brow. “then we’ll lie. you were dusting books, and i was brushing up on agriculture.”

“you hate agriculture.”

“exactly. no one would believe it. they’ll leave us alone.”

you snorted, crossing your arms and leaning back against the railing of the spiral staircase. “you’re impossible.”

but your heart was already thudding. you hated the way it did that, loud and reckless, whenever he looked at you the way he was looking at you now.

god how much you’ve missed him.

“you like it here.” he said suddenly.

your eyes flicked to his. “the library?”

he took a step closer, hands tucked behind his back. “you always slow down when you walk past. i’ve noticed.”

“…maybe.” you shrugged, turning back to the shelves. “it’s peaceful.”

jungwon moved slowly then, careful, like he was testing the weight of every step. the candlelight hit the side of his face, softening the sharp lines. making his eyes look warmer than you remembered.

“you looked absolutely beautiful, mylady.”

you shake you head. “i looked completely horrendous.”

his hand reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your cheek. gentle. slow.

“i mean every word when i speak to you.” he said.

you looked away, but he didn’t let you. his hand was careful, lifting your chin just slightly until your gaze met his again.

your lips parted. the breath caught in your throat. and then, just as suddenly, he stepped back. turned away. his shoulders shifted as he exhaled. he moved to one of the velvet armchairs near the tall window and sat down without another word.

“come here.” he said quietly, patting the armrest beside him.

“jungwon…” you hesitated.

“just for a minute.”

you sighed but walked over anyway, sitting beside him. your knees bumped lightly.

it was quiet again. the kind of quiet that felt private. heavy.

he looked at you, something thoughtful in his expression. something almost… hesitant. but he didn’t say anything. he didn’t say what he came here to say.

instead, his gaze fell on the shelves again. “read something to me.”

you blinked. “what?”

“pick anything. i want to hear your voice.”

you gave him a strange look, but reached for a nearby book anyway. you flipped through the yellowed pages until you found something legible and started reading, something about a royal banquet that had ended with someone’s wig catching fire.

he laughed and you glanced at him, smiling without thinking. you didn’t even notice how close his hand had gotten until your fingers brushed against his.

his fingers were long, soft, a little cold. yours were rougher, calloused from cleaning floors and silverware.

he liked your hands. he noticed they always shook a little when you were around him, and he’d never say it out loud, but it made his chest feel warm in a way that almost scared him.

you didn’t dress like the other girls he saw in the ballroom. no jewels, no silks. you wore a faded apron, scuffed shoes, sleeves rolled to your elbows. but somehow, you looked more beautiful to him than all of them combined.

and tonight, as you stood beside him under the library chandelier, face lit softly in candlelight, he couldn’t stop staring.

“why’re you looking at me like that.” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed.

“you’ve a smudge on your cheek.” he said, his hand reaching up your cheek to clean it. and when he did you looked away first, flustered.

he always looked at you like that, like you were something he wasn’t supposed to want, but did anyway.

it was confusing. it made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t understand.

jungwon stepped away slowly, pretending to inspect the books. his hair was slightly messy, soft brown strands falling into his eyes. he was always clean-cut, always neat in public. but in these stolen moments, he looked real.

less like a prince.

you stood in place for a moment, heart hammering, unsure of what to do with the space he’d left behind. the room still felt like it belonged to him, even when he wasn’t touching you.

you turned back to the book, pretending to read. you weren’t following the words. you were listening to him move behind you. the quiet creak of the floorboards under his boots. the way he breathed a little slower now.

“i didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” you murmured.

“neither did i.”

you glanced at him over your shoulder. he wasn’t looking at you, just tracing the spine of a dusty volume like it held something important. like if he focused hard enough, it would tell him what to say.

“did something happen?” you asked, voice low.

he paused. only for a second. but you noticed.

“no.” he said simply. “just… plans changed.”

you tilted your head, confused. “you’re usually kept longer when you travel with the council.”

jungwon let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but not a real one. more like something tired.

“turns out, not everything goes according to plan.”

you nodded slowly, still watching him. his voice was steady, but something in it felt… off. and he still wasn’t meeting your eyes.

you didn’t ask more. you should’ve. but you didn’t. instead, you took a step toward him.

“well… i’m glad you’re here.” you said and grab his hands with a smile across your face.

and that’s when he looked at you. fully. his eyes soft but guarded, like he was memorizing something.

“don’t say that.” he murmured.

you blinked. “why not?”

he didn’t answer at first. just glanced down at your hands joined like he hadn’t meant for that to happen.

but he didn’t let go.

“you make it harder.” he said, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

you frowned.

he shook his head. “forget it.”

you opened your mouth to ask again, but then he kissed you. thumb brushing the edge of your jaw.

“you talk too much, mylady.” he said softly, teasing, even if his voice sounded far away.

“that’s new.” you muttered, trying not to sound breathless.

he smiled faintly. “you’ve always talked too much.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “you’re so strange lately.”

“am i?” he murmured, like he wasn’t even listening anymore.

you paused, leaning your forehead lightly against his shoulder. “you sure everything’s alright?”

his hand slid gently down your spine.

“yeah.”

he didn’t look at you when he said it. but his arms stayed around you like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

you didn’t ask again.

and he didn’t say anything else. just held you because maybe he wouldn’t get to again.

viii. the promise that wasn’t for me

the days passed, but jungwon was quieter than usual. he didn’t come around like before, didn’t seek you out like he did in the library that night. you heard his footsteps less often, his voice rarely reached your ears. sometimes, when you passed the great hall or the council chambers, you caught glimpses of him in the distance, always alone, always serious.

you kept yourself busy, going about your chores like always, sweeping floors, polishing silver, and running errands for the steward. it was easier to focus on work when your mind was crowded with questions you didn’t want to ask.

gisselle noticed, of course. she teased you less and watched you more, like she was waiting for you to say something anything about jungwon’s sudden silence.

you wanted to say something. you wanted to ask why he came back only to disappear again, why his eyes looked tired and distant the last time you saw him. but you didn’t have the words. maybe he didn’t either.

sometimes, when the palace was quiet and the sun was low, you found yourself standing near the library, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. but he never appeared. the empty space beside you where he used to stand felt heavier than any silence.

tho this morning the palace was louder than usual.

you had barely tied your apron when the head maid grabbed your arm and thrust a tray of covered dishes into your hands.

“to the golden parlour. now. her majesty is having a private breakfast with a guest.”

“a guest?” you asked, adjusting your grip on the tray. “shall i prepare tea, or—”

“princess navina of esthrene.” she cut in. “do not speak unless spoken to. and mind your posture.”

you offered a tight nod and made your way down the corridor, trying not to roll your eyes.

another one.

prince jungwon had been “introduced” to more noble daughters than you could count. you’d seen dozens. each one laced in foreign perfumes and draped in their kingdom’s finest silk. each one trying, and failing, to draw a smile from him.

jungwon never smiled at them.

you balanced the tray and made your way to the parlour. your chest felt calm. you had nothing to worry about.

he was yours.

even if no one knew it.

the doors to the golden parlour opened with a soft click, and you stepped inside, careful not to let the tray wobble.

the room was warm with gold accents, sunlight filtering through gauzy curtains. the queen sat at the head of the gilded table, elegance in every movement. across from her, a young woman, presumably princess navina, adorned in seafoam silks and delicate pearls. her poise was flawless. she looked composed. polished. untouched.

but it was jungwon who made your breath falter.

he sat beside her. straight-backed in his ceremonial robe, the one with black and gold threading reserved for national announcements or courtships.

when he saw you enter, tray in hand, something shifted. his eyes widened just slightly, lips parting as though caught mid-thought. he hadn’t expected you. not here. not now. and definitely not like this.

he looked down, then back up, expression unreadable again, face settling into calm.

but he wasn’t calm.

you bowed low, eyes on the floor. “breakfast is served, your majesties.”

“set it down.” the queen said evenly.

you obeyed, fingers steady, until you reached him. you didn’t look at him. but you felt him. he didn’t speak. didn’t move. but his eyes found yours. not cold, not warm. something in between. something stuck.

then, as if remembering where he was, who he was, he looked away.

you quickly stepped back to your post. hands clasped behind your back with posture perfect.

“well princess navina” the queen began. “we’re grateful your family agreed to the shortened engagement. a summer ceremony will be most fitting.”

your stomach dropped.

“indeed, your majesty.” navina answered softly. “my mother preferred a spring celebration, but i insisted. i would rather stand beside my husband from the beginning of his reign.”

jungwon didn’t say a word.

“the royal tailor arrives tomorrow.” the queen continued. “the wedding colours shall be gold and seafoam. the announcement will go out by week’s end.”

your heart fell to the ground before the silver tray.

because yes, you dropped it and the porcelain dishes shattered on the marble floor.

the entire room went silent.

you dropped to a bow without thinking, heart thudding against your ribs. “f-forgive me, your majesty.“

the queen didn’t answer right away.

you stayed in position, knees pressed to the floor, hands trembling slightly. the sound of the broken cup still echoed in your ears. it was foolish. you knew better. you were trained better.

but you hadn’t expected that.

you hadn’t expected her.

princess navina sat gracefully at the table, one gloved hand resting in her lap, the other holding a silver spoon just above her untouched plate. she didn’t flinch. didn’t look startled or annoyed. only concerned, the type of calm concern taught in finishing schools and royal drawing rooms.

she was beautiful, of course she was.

her dark hair was swept back into an intricate twist, not a strand out of place. her eyes, soft and almond-shaped, were framed with kohl and intelligence. her dress shimmered faintly with seafoam thread, and the pearl comb in her hair caught the light whenever she moved.

she looked like she belonged there.

next to him.

and that made your stomach twist.

you heard the queen shift in her seat. “get it cleaned.” she said sharply. “then leave us.”

you bowed lower. “yes, your majesty.”

you scrambled to gather the broken porcelain, careful not to cut your palms. jungwon didn’t move. not a muscle. but you felt his eyes on you.

you didn’t look up.

you couldn’t.

as you stood, you caught a glimpse of princess navina watching you. her expression unreadable. curious, maybe. or amused. or nothing at all.

you turned and walked out, heart pounding, cheeks burning, pieces of porcelain rattling on the tray.

you hadn’t cried.

not yet.

but gods, your eyes stung.

you set the tray down in the scullery with shaking hands. no one was there and the silence pressed in around you like a second skin. you stared at the shards, white and delicate, now ruined. like something else you couldn’t name.

you pressed your palms flat to the counter, trying to steady your breath. your reflection in the tarnished silver tray stared back, eyes red-rimmed and wide, lips parted like you might speak if you only had the strength.

you didn’t see jungwon for the rest of the day.

you kept your head down, kept busy, scrubbed the kitchens until your fingers ached. you avoided the golden parlour. you avoided everyone.

even gisselle, who cornered you by the laundry with furrowed brows and folded arms.

“you’re not made of stone.” she said, not unkindly. “you can talk to me, you know.”

but you couldn’t.

that night you lay on your straw mattress, the thin blanket barely keeping the chill away. the quiet was comforting — except for the absence of giselle, who was supposed to be nearby. she had left a few minutes ago saying she needed a bath before bed, wanting to wash away the day’s dirt and tension.

then your door creaked open and you saw him. soaked in rain, his cloak dripping onto your stone floor and hair flat against his forehead. you sat up fast, heart leaping,

your breath caught in your throat. “you can’t be here. someone will—”

“why?” he stepped fully inside, shutting the door behind him. “because if anyone finds out i’m marrying someone else, they’ll know i’ve been sneaking into a maid’s room at night for months?”

“you lied to me.”

“i didn’t lie.”

“you didn’t tell me.” you snapped, rising to your feet.

“i was going to tell you.”

“when?” your voice cracked, raw. “when, jungwon?”

“i didn’t think they’d agree to the shortened engagement.” he rushed out. “it was supposed to be discussed, just discussed. i was going to tell you, but not like this—”

“so you were just going to keep lying to me.”

“i wasn’t lying!” he said, louder now. “i wasn’t ready.”

“you weren’t ready.” you echoed bitterly.

“i was trying to protect you.”

you stared at him. “by marrying another woman?”

“i’m not choosing her. you know that. you think i’d stand at an altar with someone else, knowing what we have?” his voice sounded tired. defeated.

“you already are.” you whispered, voice breaking. “you sat beside her today. you let them plan your wedding.”

“and what would you have me do?” his voice rose. “declare my love for a servant before the entire court? bring scandal to your name? put a target on your back?”

“you already have.”

his face crumpled. “y/n…”

you looked away, blinking hard, throat burning. your voice came quieter this time. “you should go.”

“please don’t do this.” he stepped closer but you backed away quickly.

“go.” you whispered and crossed your arms, not to defend yourself, but to keep from shaking.

jungwon stood in the middle of the room like a storm himself, unwelcome, uninvited, and yet impossible to look away from.

he didn’t move.

he pressed a hand to his face, dragging it down slowly, as if trying to wipe the weight of it all away. “i thought i could buy us time. i thought—i thought if i kept things quiet, i could figure it out without hurting you.”

you turned away, gripping the edge of the small wooden table near your bed, trying to steady yourself. “you should go before giselle comes back.”

he stayed where he was.

“jungwon..” you said again, softer now, tired. “please.”

he looked at you like he was memorizing you, the distance between you was breaking something inside him. he opened his mouth, then shut it. and then, finally, he nodded.

“i’ll fix this.”

you didn’t answer.

you didn’t look back when the door creaked open again. or when it shut behind him.

your knees gave out the second the door shut behind him.

you dropped to the floor, hard, hands hitting the stone as you caught yourself. and then it all crashed in.

you cried.

you cried like it hurt to breathe, like the ache in your chest might never leave. the tears came hot and fast, spilling down your cheeks, dripping onto the floor. sobs tore through you, quiet but wrecking, the kind that left your whole body trembling.

because you loved him.

you pressed your forehead to the floor, eyes squeezed shut, wishing the stone would swallow you whole-wishing you could go back to before, when it was just you and him and a library full of stolen moments.

but those moments were gone.

ix.

the days following were torment. not just for him, but for you too.

the palace didn’t sleep. there were whispers in every hallway, servants sprinting across stone floors with velvet fabrics, golden plates, and endless flowers. everyone preparing for the arrival of the royal guests.

and you?

you kept your head down, hands busy, ears deaf. or at least, you tried. but every time someone said lady navina, it felt like someone dug their fingers into your chest and twisted.

you spoke only when spoken to.

and when you did, you called him, my lord.

the first time it left your lips, the pen slipped from his hand like it had burned him.

now jungwon was looking for you all over the palace.

in the marble corridors, in the garden, in the library where you used to sort the books by color just because he said he liked it like that.

but you were no longer in any of those places.

you had asked to be transferred to the kitchen.

away from the east wing.

away from him.

and still, jungwon kept looking for you.

through the hallways.

through the art gallery.

he even asked about you in the laundry room.

but you ignored him. more firmly each time.

you were never under any illusion, it was never meant to last. you knew he would come. and so he did. three days later, the doors burst open with such force, the very knives upon the table trembled in their place.

the kitchen fell still. not a word, not a breath.

even the head chef, midway through stirring, froze in silence. only the soup dared to continue its boil—blissfully.

“leave. all of you.” jungwon’s voice rang out—clear. commanding. no one moved at first. until he lifted his gaze. “i said leave. now.”

the cook dropped her knife. the helpers rushed to remove their aprons. one by one, they left, confused. you did the same. left the board, turned toward the back door, but his voice reached you before you crossed it.

“not you.”

you halted. and slowly, so slowly, you turned to face him. he came closer, closing the door behind him.

“my lord.” you said, with a curt nod. “if you’ll excuse me—“

“is that it?” he bit out, stepping forward. “are you truly going to keep pretending you don’t know me? that you don’t know what’s between us?”

“i’m not pretending anything, my lord.” the coldness in your voice was worse than any slap.

“don’t call me that. not you, for god’s sake.”

“but that’s what you are now. my lord.”

“no!” he took a step closer, his voice breaking with anger. “not after everything. not after the way you looked at me. not after those nights we spent talking about the world beyond these walls, dreaming of something more than

“that was before your engaged.”

his eyes softened for a second, like your coldness tore him apart. he walked toward you, slower this time, like he was unsure, like every step hurt.

“don’t look at me like that. not you.” he whispered.

“how am i supposed to look at you?” you asked, not with anger, just resignation. “like nothing happened? jungwon, you knew this was going to happen. you chose it.”

“they chose it for me.”

“but you accepted it. and i don’t blame you. you’re the prince. you have a duty.” your voice cracked a little, but you kept going. “i already knew my place. i’m just… a mistake in your story.”

“you were never a mistake!”

“but it seems like one. doesn’t it?”

he breathed heavily. you remained unmoved.

“you don’t understand.” he murmured, turning away and running a hand through his hair. “you don’t understand how hard it’s been to pretend i don’t care about you. how i ache every time i see you and can’t touch you. you don’t understand what it’s like to smile at a woman i never chose while thinking about the scent of your lavender-covered hands.”

you didn’t cry. you wouldn’t give him that.

“i love you..”he let out, almost a desperate secret. “don’t you get it? i’d do anything to give you the truth back, to turn back time. tell me you still believe me.”

“believing you isn’t the problem, jungwon.”

you looked him straight in the eyes, finally.

“the problem is that none of this matters anymore. because you have a duty. a kingdom. a crown. and i’m just a stone in the path to all that.”

“you’re not.”

“yes, i am. and you know it.”

jungwon lowered his gaze. he looked tired. his jaw was tight, eyebrows drawn like he’d been clenching them all day. but it was his eyes. red, a little swollen, like he hadn’t slept right in days. they kept flicking from your face to the floor, like he couldn’t decide where to settle.

“i didn’t expect to stay with you. i’m not that naive.” you added. “but i did expect you to be honest with me. after everything… i thought at least that much, you owed me.”

he closed his eyes, like your words were blades.

“i tried..” he murmured. “i tried to find a way out. i thought that if i postponed the announcement, if i delayed the ceremony… i could find you, explain everything myself. but things moved faster than i imagined.”

“it wasn’t your duty to delay it.” you said softly, eyes down. “your duty was to become king. i was just the mistake you made along the way.”

that broke him. you knew it because he stepped back, like he needed space to breathe.

“you weren’t a mistake.” he said again, firm, with a mix of pain and anger. “don’t say that. you were… the only real thing.”

jungwon looked at you as if hoping you’d interrupt him, say something, anything, but you just stayed silent. the kitchen was heavy with tension.

“say something. anything.” he pleaded, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“what do you want me to say?” you finally asked, still not looking at him. “that i understand you? because i do. that i forgive you? i do that too. but none of it changes what you are now.”

“you talk to me like i betrayed you on purpose.”

“i don’t blame you, jungwon.” you repeated calmly, but it was the kind of calm that only hides exhaustion. “i really don’t. i just… didn’t expect to find out while serving bread and tea.

jungwon shut his eyes tightly. “it hurts when you talk to me like this.”

“and you think it doesn’t hurt me?” you said, finally looking at him, eyes wet but no tears falling. “you were the only thing that didn’t make me feel invisible in this place.”

he stepped toward you again, desperate.

“i don’t want this to end like this. i don’t want you and me to…” his voice broke.

“but it already ended, jungwon.” you interrupted. “it ended the moment you signed the papers. the moment you swore loyalty to someone else.”

he looked at you with a mix of sorrow and fury. not at you, but at himself. for not protecting you. for losing you. for not having the courage to break from what was expected of him.

“if i could go back…”

“but you can’t.” you said, and this time you smiled, a sad resigned smile. “this was your destiny. i was just a pause in the middle of your duty.”

the silence stretched.

“and still, i love you.” he murmured.

that made you tremble. you lowered your gaze. you didn’t want to hear that. not now. not when you had already forced yourself to let him go.

“don’t say that to me, jungwon.” you whispered.

he stared at you for a long time. too long. and for a second, just a second, you wondered if he might say screw it. if he might reach for your hand. pull you close. risk it all.

but he didn’t.

he just looked down. his shoulders dropped a little. then he nodded, once.

“i’m sorry.” he said quietly.

you didn’t answer.

and this time, when he turned to leave, you didn’t stop him. you didn’t even look.

and maybe that’s what hurt most.

x. the bells said I died

the palace glowed as if it were already celebrating a fairytale you never asked to be part of. white flowers climbed the windows, golden velvet curtains hung from every arch, and a thousand scented candles waited to be lit once night fell. the grand ball in honor of prince jungwon’s engagement to lady navina was just hours away.

and you… you walked through it all as if you were just another piece of furniture. invisible. as if you hadn’t woken up before dawn for months to prepare the tea he always said he preferred when no one else was paying attention. as if you hadn’t memorized the sound of his breathing while pretending you were the only one in love in silence.

it was the day before the royal ball. the celebration in honor of the prince’s engagement to lady navina was already filling the palace with decorations. the halls overflowed with white flowers and golden ribbons, and every servant was rushing from one end to the other with trays, fabrics, crowns of leaves, while you just… walked through it all with your head down, pretending it didn’t affect you.

“more to the center, dear, that table must be perfect. the princess wants everything to look flawless.” ordered one of the ladies-in-waiting, adjusting her headpiece with a handheld mirror.

you were about to answer, but gisselle ran up to you, breathless.

“prince jungwon…” she said in a hushed tone, as if afraid someone else might hear. “he hasn’t gotten out of bed. the physician was called. they say he has a fever.”

you froze. “how bad is it?”

“i don’t know. no one is allowed near him. his mother isn’t letting anyone in except for her most trusted staff.” she lowered her voice again. “but he hasn’t eaten. hasn’t spoken. it’s been all day.”

“and navina?”

“she hasn’t even gone to see him. she’s too busy choosing the flowers for the banquet.”

you walked away without a word.

that night, as the sun finally disappeared behind the palace towers, you sat in your chambers pretending to sew. the thread slipped from your fingers more than once, and your stitches were uneven—your mind too loud, too far from the needle in your hand. you hadn’t truly been focusing, not for hours, but you kept your posture straight, lips pressed into a line, like you’d been taught.

across the room, giselle slept curled beneath a soft wool blanket. her back rose and fell in steady rhythm, face turned toward the window.

the only light came from a single candle on your desk. shadows danced along the walls, and every creak of the old stone outside felt louder than usual.

you were about to put down the needle when someone knocked on the door twice. you turned your head slowly, not wanting to wake giselle, you rose quietly, crossed the room, and opened the door just a crack. and when you opened it you weren’t expecting to see him.

prince ri ki was there, slightly out of breath, as if he had run all the way. you slipped into the hallway before he could speak, closing the door gently behind you.

“your highness?” you quickly bowed, trying to keep your voice steady.

he shook his head, glancing over your shoulder, making sure you were alone.

“no time for formalities. pack your things.” he said quietly but firmly. “only what’s necessary.”

“what?” you blinked. “i don’t understand.”

“it’s an order.” he repeated, gentle but serious.

you didn’t ask anything else. you didn’t have the strength to. with trembling hands, you stuffed what little you had into a small bag. giselle was still asleep, unaware of what was happening. you didn’t have time to say goodbye.

you paused for a second at the door, glancing back toward the bed where giselle was still asleep under the thick blankets, her breathing calm.

“don’t worry about her.” ri ki said quietly when he saw you hesitate.

as you followed him, you passed through corridors you were usually not allowed in. ri ki walked quickly but with ease, greeting every guard naturally, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“can i know where we’re going?” you whispered, trying not to sound scared as you stepped through a back door into the garden.

ni ki didn’t answer. he just kept walking, circling one of the old fountains in the back.

and then you saw him.

jungwon. standing beside the oldest rose bush in the palace. no sign of fever. not a trace of illness. his back straight, his face lit by the moon, and his eyes fixed on you like he had never stopped watching.

“what is this…?” you asked, confused, dropping the bag at your feet.

“no time, milady.” jungwon said, walking toward you. his voice was urgent, different, like he knew every second counted. “we have to go.”

“go?” you frowned, stepping back. “what are you doing?”

“i’ll explain later.” he said, taking your hand. his palm was warm, steady, and that only confused you more.

“there’s a carriage waiting further down, at the north path,” said ri ki giving his brother your bag. “i’ll take care of the rest.”

ri ki looked at him for a long second, like he wanted to say something else. then he simply pulled him into a hug. strong, one arm across his back, the other hand resting on the back of jungwon’s neck.

“you’re going to be okay, alright?” ri ki murmured into his ear, voice trembling. “i’ve got it. you just… live, okay?”

jungwon nodded, biting his lip as he pulled away.

“thank you, brother. for everything.”

ri ki grabbed his shoulders and gave him a small shake, eyes glistening.

“don’t thank me now. thank me when you’ve got a home far away from here, a new name, and… her by your side.” he looked your way briefly before turning back.

you stood frozen, feeling the air shift. you still didn’t fully understand what was happening, just that it was big. too big.

“take care of him, will you?” ri ki said quietly, almost pleading.

before you could reply, he turned and walked back into the garden, disappearing into the mist and shadows of the palace.

jungwon didn’t wait another second.

“quickly.” he said, tugging your hand.

“what—? jungwon— where are we going?”

“trust me.” he said simply, and then started running.

your steps were clumsy at first, stumbling a little from the pace. the mud clung to your shoes, and soon the edges of your white gown were completely stained. the hem dragged dirt, leaves, branches. the cold bit at your skin, but jungwon didn’t stop.

and neither did you. because he didn’t let go.

the bells started ringing before you reached the carriage. one, then another. their echo sliced through the air violently, making you shiver.

taaan!

taaan!

taaan!

the sound spread through the valley, from the highest towers of the palace. it wasn’t any ordinary bell. it was the mourning call. the one they rang only when someone of royalty had died.

and then, you heard it. a distant scream from the east wing of the castle.

“prince jungwon is dead!”

epilogue.

the sky had that soft color that appears when the sun starts to set but hasn’t quite decided to leave yet. a shade between gold and peach slipped through the light curtains of the small country house they now lived in. it was one of those afternoons when everything felt calm, like even time itself had decided to pause for a few more minutes.

the kitchen smelled like freshly baked bread and mandarins. lots of mandarins. your daughter, barely five years old, was sitting on one of the high chairs with a wrinkled apron and sticky cheeks from juice. she had peeled four, or maybe five mandarins with more enthusiasm than technique, leaving a messy pile of peels on the wooden table.

“mom, look at this one, it’s weird.” she said with a smile, holding up a slice that, in her eyes, looked like a heart.

“it’s because it has love.” you replied, gently brushing her hair, feeling that warmth that only simple moments can give you.

the back door was open, letting in the sound of the wind, rustling branches. your youngest son came running down the stairs. barefoot, holding a stick he insisted on calling his “royal sword”.

“i’m going with dad!” he yelled, his giggles being contagios.

you barely managed to say “put on shoes” but he was already gone. you watched him run across the garden, where the grass was still wet with dew.

and there was jungwon.

his back turned. hair longer, tied with a leather strap. his body stronger, broader. arms marked by daily labor, broad shoulders under a white linen shirt rolled up to the elbows. chopping wood like he’d done it all his life.

the prince he once was, now just a man. a husband. a father.

“daaad!” the boy yelled, running toward him, barefoot and with mud-stained pants. jungwon dropped the axe instantly to lift him into the air, spinning once as they both laughed.

you stepped onto the porch holding your daughter’s hand. she kept eating mandarins while you tried to wipe the juice from the corners of her lips.

the image stayed with you like a painting: the sunlight filtering through the trees, your daughter playing with mandarin peels, your son clinging to jungwon’s neck, and him, looking at you from the garden as if he didn’t need anything else in the world but that.

you.

jungwon looked at you, and kissed your forehead when you got close. his hand was rough from working the land, but warm. real. your fingers laced with his almost without thinking, like your body did it on its own.

“today’s a good day to go to the lake.” he murmured.

“yeah… today everything feels right.”

you looked around. there were no carriages, no jewels, no titles. there were winters by the fireplace with everyone huddled under a blanket. there were summers running through flower fields, and laughter that disappeared into the wind. there were nights when jungwon held your hand in silence, saying nothing, but with eyes full of gratitude because you chose him. because you saved him.

the sacrifice.

the lie.

the freedom.

all to get here.

the kingdom you built together had no castles. but it was, without a doubt, the happiest one.

[cbeargyu]

lettre pour toi

summary: a shy high school senior accidentally slips a love letter into the wrong locker, thinking it belongs to her crush park sunghoon — but instead, it ends up in the hands of lee heeseung, a notorious delinquent who takes the letter seriously and declares them a couple on the spot, starting an unexpected and chaotic love story.

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

genre: high school au, romance, fluff, crack, slowburn, light angst.

warnings: delinquent!heeseung, possessive behavior, kissing, stolen first kiss, mild language, emotional tension, misunderstandings, power imbalance.

wc: 5k

love was in the air at mok-hae high school, quite literally, and maybe even overwhelmingly so. the long-awaited valentine’s day festival had finally returned after years of being nothing more than a forgotten tradition, and this year, it felt like the entire campus had bloomed with rose petals and heart-shaped confessions. students wandered the decorated halls hand-in-hand, lockers were covered in pastel-colored post-its with anonymous messages, and every classroom buzzed with excitement and hushed whispers about who had confessed to who. it was only halfway through the day, and already a third of the school had somehow ended up with an official partner, flowers in hand and bright smiles on their faces.

and you? well, you had made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t let this day end like all the others — watching from the sidelines with a heart full of longing and a mouth too afraid to speak. no, this time would be different. this time you were going to confess. and not to just anyone — to him. park sunghoon.

he was a year older, part of the senior class, and although you’d barely spoken more than a few words to him since you met, he had quietly occupied the center of your world for longer than you cared to admit. tall, graceful, effortlessly charming with that soft black hair and soft eyes that somehow managed to look cold and warm at the same time, he was the kind of boy you only read about in shojo manga or saw staring out the windows in coming-of-age dramas.

girls liked him, boys respected him, and teachers always gave him that subtle look of admiration. but you? you worshipped him. silently, from afar. like a secret you folded and refolded in your chest so many times it had started to fray around the edges. he was everything you weren’t — confident, eloquent, easy to notice — while you were soft-spoken, painfully shy, the kind of girl who always chose the back corner seat and barely raised her hand in class. even your friends sometimes forgot you were in the room unless you were directly spoken to.

you remembered the exact moment your feelings for sunghoon began — it had been almost a year ago, a rainy monday afternoon when you had clumsily dropped your entire backpack just as the dismissal bell rang. your notebooks had scattered across the hallway, papers soaked in the puddles of muddy water students had tracked in, and no one had stopped. no one, except him. sunghoon had crouched down without a word, helped you gather everything with quiet precision, and gently handed you your favorite pen, the one you thought you'd lost, as if it were something precious.

he hadn’t smiled, not really, but he did meet your eyes and said, "be careful next time, yeah?" before disappearing into the crowd like some angel sent to rescue you for no reason at all. your heart hadn’t been the same since.

so now here you were, clutching the result of three sleepless nights — a love letter. a real, handwritten, hopelessly sincere love letter on soft pink paper, tucked inside a plain white envelope decorated with heart-shaped stamps you had spent an embarrassing amount of time aligning perfectly. it was all there, every single one of your feelings spelled out like an open wound, raw and trembling. how you’d admired him from afar, how much that single moment of kindness meant to you, how much you dreamed of him possibly — maybe — liking you back. you hadn’t dared to sign it with your full name, but you hoped he’d know. or maybe you hoped he wouldn’t. you didn’t know which would be worse.

"wait— a letter? you’re seriously going to give him a letter?" yoojung’s voice was almost a screech, her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hairline as she stared at you with a look of horror. she had nearly combusted when you showed her the envelope, her hands flailing like you had just told her you were about to perform open-heart surgery on yourself in front of the entire school. you felt your chest tighten and the tears sting the back of your eyes, your already-fragile courage crumbling under the weight of her reaction. it wasn’t even her fault — you knew this about yourself. you were sensitive. too sensitive. years of being teased, of being told you were too quiet, too weird, too invisible had turned your shyness into something permanent. you were the kind of person who apologized for existing too loudly. how could you ever hope someone like sunghoon would even remember your face?

"i can’t just say it to his face! i’d start stuttering and then probably start crying in front of him, and then i’d die, yoojung!" your voice cracked, cheeks burning in humiliation, hands tightening around the letter like it was both your salvation and your doom. you could already imagine it — your voice barely audible, his polite but confused expression, the silence stretching too long before he gave you that gentle, apologetic rejection that would haunt you for the rest of the school year. yoojung sighed, dramatically, tossing her head back like she was starring in her own soap opera, but you knew she didn’t mean it cruelly. she just didn’t understand. she was loud and brave and spoke without fear. you weren’t like that. never had been. and maybe never would be.

it had taken you everything — absolutely everything — to walk down the quiet corridor, envelope clutched tightly to your chest like it was a ticking bomb rather than a simple piece of paper filled with shaky handwriting and hearts drawn in red ink. locker number 151 sat at the very end of the hallway, beneath the slanted sunlight coming through the windows, looking strangely ordinary for something that belonged to the boy who had taken up residence in your dreams every single night.

you told yourself, again and again, that no one would be there to see you, that no one would notice or care, that it was just a letter and people left letters all the time, especially on valentine’s day. but your body refused to believe your thoughts — your hands trembled uncontrollably, your knees felt weak, and your heart slammed against your ribs like it was trying to escape. it was pathetic.

even now, in this empty hallway, with no one watching, the simple act of slipping a piece of paper through a locker vent made you feel like you were committing some kind of crime. you hesitated. once. twice. three times. until finally, with one last breath and eyes squeezed shut, you shoved it in through the thin metal slit and turned on your heel, running back toward your classroom like your life depended on it.

you had told your teacher you needed to use the bathroom, a lie that came too easily when your stomach was already twisted in knots. luckily, the hallway had been deserted, a rare miracle in such a busy school, and no one had seen you sneak out or rush back.

you reached the physics lab just as the bell rang, your breath caught in your throat, palms damp, the image of locker 151 burned behind your eyelids. the festival was over now — the booths were being taken down, students were returning to their regular classes, and reality was setting back in like a cold breeze after a dream. it was done. the letter had been delivered. whether sunghoon would read it or toss it without a second glance… well, that wasn’t something you could control anymore.

but the shaking didn’t stop. even as you sat back in your seat, trying to focus on the board, your fingers still twitched, your heart still raced. it was stupid, really. you hadn’t even spoken to him. you hadn’t done anything brave. and yet it had felt like tearing your own chest open and handing your soul to someone who probably wouldn’t even look at it. part of you wanted to cry — not because anything had gone wrong, but because even this, this tiny, invisible thing, had taken so much out of you. what kind of girl breaks down from something so small? what kind of girl can’t even confess properly?

you were still deep in those thoughts, staring blankly at your half-scribbled notes, when it happened.

"YAH!" the voice was loud, sharp, cutting through the ambient hallway noise like a blade. you barely registered it until another voice followed — harsher this time, irritated. "why the hell are you ignoring me? i’m talking to you!"

a loud thud echoed against the wall next to your head, and you flinched violently, your body freezing on instinct as you turned to find the source of the sound. there, towering just a few inches away, stood a boy you had never seen before. his hand was still pressed against the wall, palm flat where he had slammed it next to you, caging you in with his presence. his eyes were dark, unreadable, but piercing in a way that made your breath hitch. something about him was wrong, or maybe just too much — like staring into the sun for too long. he wasn’t smiling, not exactly, but there was a curve to his lips that felt amused, twisted, like he was already in on some joke you hadn’t been told yet.

“you’re y/n, right?” he asked, voice smooth but indifferent, almost bored as his gaze slowly traveled down the length of your body and back up to your face. you nodded before you could stop yourself, throat too tight to speak. your heart pounded again — not with nerves this time, but with something closer to fear.

he clicked his tongue, then reached into the pocket of his uniform jacket and pulled out something that made your stomach drop straight through the floor.

"‘i’ve liked you for so long… your eyes, your smile, the way you helped me that day… please, just once, give me a chance to be by your side. i promise i’ll make you happy…’” he read in a flat, mocking voice, and your blood ran cold. your letter. your letter. in his hands. being read aloud like a joke. your eyes widened in horror as you stared at the page — the pastel paper, the little doodles, the goddamn bunny stickers. this was supposed to be private. it wasn’t even his. how the hell had he gotten it?

“wh–what the—? give that back!” your voice cracked, raw and panicked, but when you lunged forward to grab the letter from his hands, he casually stepped back, raising it just out of reach like he was playing with a child. your hands fisted in frustration, tears welling up again, but this time they weren’t from shyness — they were from rage. humiliation. shame. he was laughing now, not loudly, but with a quiet scoff that made your skin crawl.

“so you did write it,” he muttered, stepping in close again, so close that his breath hit your cheek and you instinctively leaned back. “cute. kind of dumb, but cute.”

“i said give it back! that’s not yours!” you shoved at his chest with both hands, and he finally slipped the letter into his back pocket like it meant nothing, like your heart wasn’t bleeding inside that fold of paper.

“you’re so average it hurts,” he said, eyes still locked on yours with a strange intensity. “but sure, why not. i’ll go out with you.”

you blinked, stunned. “what—?”

he winked, shameless. “you heard me.”

then, without another word, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, trembling, humiliated, confused, and still empty-handed. you didn’t even know his name. you didn’t even understand what had just happened.

you didn’t remember how you made it back to the classroom — just that one moment you were standing frozen in the hallway, the aftershock of humiliation still rattling through your bones, and the next you were pushing the door open with trembling hands, your head low, your throat tight, your eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill the second anyone looked at you. yoojung was the first to notice the state you were in. she turned to you with a lighthearted comment already forming on her lips, but the second she saw your face, the words died in her throat. instead, she stood up, eyebrows knitting with concern as she grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the back of the classroom, where hyojung was hunched over her notes.

"what happened?" yoojung asked, voice sharp but careful, her grip tightening slightly around your sleeve as you sat down next to her with shaking knees, trying to breathe through the panic swelling in your chest. hyojung looked up too, alarmed, and you hated the way their eyes widened when they really saw you — the red around your eyes, the way you couldn’t quite meet their gaze, the way your hands fisted in your skirt like you were trying to stop them from flying to your face.

"he—he took it," you croaked, voice barely audible, and even though you tried to steady it, your lips quivered. "he has my letter. he read it out loud. he… he said he’d go out with me. but i— i didn’t even write it for him."

yoojung blinked, her mouth opening slightly. "wait— wait, slow down. who took your letter?"

"i don’t know his name," you confessed, swallowing hard, your voice trembling more with every word. "he just… he showed up. he slammed the wall and scared me half to death. he said my name like he already knew me, and then he pulled out the letter— my letter— and started reading it, right in front of me. and then he said... he said i was too normal, but he’d date me anyway. and then he walked away. like it was nothing. like—like i was nothing.”

your voice cracked again, and hyojung instinctively reached across the table to squeeze your wrist gently, her thumb rubbing a small circle on your skin. yoojung was already digging for tissues in her bag, pressing one into your hand as you tried to hide your face in your elbow.

"jesus…" yoojung muttered under her breath, her tone darkening with anger. "what the hell. describe him. did he say his name at all? maybe he’s from another class—"

you shook your head weakly. "no… i’ve never seen him before. he was tall. kind of broad-shouldered, but not huge. he had black hair, like… kind of messy. his eyes were really intense. he just stared at me, and it felt like i couldn’t move. like i was frozen. he had this— this smirk. like he was enjoying it."

the room felt too bright, the voices around you too loud. even though you were surrounded by people, all you could feel was that stupid, smug look on his face, the weight of his body so close to yours, the letter being read like a script in some cruel prank show. you wanted to disappear. vanish. melt through the floor. you hadn’t asked for this.

"wait a second," yoojung said suddenly, narrowing her eyes. "start from the beginning. where did you put the letter?"

"his locker. i— i snuck out during class and put it in locker 151. that’s sunghoon’s locker, right? i mean, i thought it was. i’ve been walking past it for months now…"

"locker 151…?" yoojung turned slowly to look at hyojung, who was now frowning deeply, tapping her chin as if trying to recall something.

"i’m in the 140s," hyojung said. "mine’s 148. and i think… if i’m not wrong, 151 doesn’t belong to park sunghoon. sunghoon’s locker is like… down the other wing, near the gym. the upperclassmen lockers are split by hallway."

your heart dropped. no. no, that couldn’t be right. you’d walked past that locker for weeks — you knew where sunghoon usually stopped, where he tied his shoelaces, where he sipped juice before practice. it had to be his.

"then whose locker is 151?" yoojung asked cautiously.

hyojung paused for a moment, then her expression darkened. "i’m not one hundred percent sure, but i think it belongs to lee heeseung. class 4. you’ve heard of him, right?"

you shook your head, mouth dry. "no… i don’t know any lee heeseung…"

they both looked at each other, their expressions shifting from confusion to dread in seconds.

"shit," yoojung whispered. "that guy. i’ve heard about him. he got suspended two weeks ago. got into a fight in the boys’ bathroom with one of the second-years. busted the other guy’s nose. i thought he dropped out or something. but he’s back?"

"yeah," hyojung added, voice low. "people say he’s… trouble. like, the kind you don’t want reading your love letters."

you stared down at your hands, your brain trying to piece together the horror of it all. it wasn’t even sunghoon’s locker. the letter had gone to the wrong person. and now heeseung thought you were in love with him. that the letter was for him.

you felt sick.

"you guys have to help me," you said suddenly, your voice shaking harder than before. "please— please help me. i don’t know what to do. i’m so scared. he’s going to think i’m serious. he’s going to mock me even more— and he won’t even give it back— and i didn’t mean to—"

"hey, hey— it’s okay," yoojung said quickly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close as hyojung moved to your other side. "we’ll figure something out. maybe… maybe you can just talk to him. explain that it was a mistake. tell him the letter wasn’t meant for him."

"he didn’t even let me speak," you murmured into your sleeve. "he wouldn’t listen. he smirked. he said… he said i was ‘too normal’ but he’d go out with me anyway. like it was a joke. like i was some boring girl that didn’t matter."

they didn’t know what to say to that. they just sat with you in silence, the weight of it all sinking in. you didn’t know lee heeseung. but now, because of one stupid locker mix-up, he knew you.

you should’ve waited a little longer. maybe asked yoojung to walk out with you or just stayed inside until most of the school was empty, but you were too anxious to think straight, too desperate to be away from everyone and forget the burning humiliation that had stained your entire afternoon. you clutched your bag close to your chest and kept your head down, pretending you were invisible as you moved with the crowd of students heading toward the gates. it was almost working. almost. you were just a few steps from freedom when—

"hey."

his voice, low and unmistakable, cut right through the noise of the hallway, making your blood run cold. your body stiffened as you caught a glimpse of him leaning casually against the front gate, his hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly like he’d been waiting specifically for you. your instinct screamed to run, to blend into the crowd and disappear, but the second you turned your head the other way and picked up your pace, you heard his footsteps—slow, heavy, deliberate—following behind.

you didn’t get far. his fingers hooked into the strap of your backpack, tugging you back without much effort, and you gasped, stumbling slightly as he pulled you to a stop. when you turned, he was right there, closer than you wanted, eyes sharp, brows knitted—not quite a glare, but certainly not a smile.

"what’s your deal?" he muttered, tilting his head. "first you write me a letter with all that cheesy, sappy crap, and now you’re acting like you don’t even know me?"

you opened your mouth to speak, to tell him—again—that it was a mistake, that the letter wasn’t meant for him, that you didn’t even know his name until today. but before the words could form, he cut you off.

"and just so you remember," he added, tapping the side of your head with two fingers in a way that made you flinch, "i already said yes. you confessed, i accepted, so we’re dating now. that’s how this stuff works, right?"

you blinked at him, completely at a loss. what. you felt the heat rise to your cheeks again, this time from a mix of panic and absolute disbelief. "w-we’re not dating! i didn’t— i mean, the letter wasn’t for—"

"yeah, yeah, excuses," he waved a hand dismissively, then started walking. you stood frozen for a second before realizing he wasn’t leaving—he was walking with you. "come on. i’ll walk you home."

"you don’t need to—" you began, trying to protest, but he suddenly reached out and grabbed your hand. your hand. like it was the most normal thing in the world. you immediately pulled back out of reflex.

he didn’t look surprised. only raised a brow and muttered, "fine. don’t hold my hand. we can do it the lame way." then, before you could react, he gripped your arm just above the elbow and started walking again, dragging you along like some stubborn little kid being pulled to detention.

"y-you don’t have to walk me— i don’t even live close—"

"shut up," he said flatly, not looking at you. "i asked you where your house is. you’re gonna show me or you want me to guess?"

your mouth opened and closed a few times, but ultimately you surrendered, muttering your address under your breath. he nodded, keeping his pace steady, still holding your arm as if afraid you’d try to bolt.

the walk wasn’t long, but it felt like an eternity. the whole time, your brain was running laps trying to figure out what he wanted from you. was he mocking you? playing some kind of joke? trying to get back at you for the letter? his grip wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t exactly gentle either. still, he didn’t push or tease you as much as you expected, just walked quietly, sometimes glancing at you from the corner of his eye like he was thinking hard about something but refusing to say it out loud.

about halfway there, he suddenly stopped, causing you to stumble slightly. he released your arm and looked down at you with an unreadable expression.

"you don’t like being touched, huh?" he asked. there was no sarcasm in his voice, just a blunt observation.

you hesitated, then nodded. your skin was still tingling where his fingers had been, and not in a good way.

he let out a sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets. "fine. i’ll walk next to you. happy?"

you blinked, unsure how to respond, and he began walking again, this time matching your pace instead of pulling you along. the silence returned, but it wasn’t heavy like before. if anything, it felt like a strange kind of… effort. like he was trying to not be too rough. which, for someone like him, probably took energy.

just as you were starting to feel slightly more at ease, he dropped another bomb on you.

"i get that holding hands is too soon or whatever," he said casually, looking ahead with a blank face. "but you better get used to the idea. later on, we’ll be doing more than that."

you stopped dead in your tracks, heart leaping into your throat. "w-what?!"

he turned to you slowly, eyes glinting with that same smug expression from earlier. "you heard me."

"what do you mean 'more'?!" your voice cracked, and he stepped closer, bending slightly so his face was only inches from yours. the way he smiled this time was less mocking, more… mischievous. and it made your stomach twist into a thousand knots.

"who knows?" he whispered, then chuckled softly, like he was enjoying the way your brain was spiraling. "kissing, maybe. sleepovers. sneaking out. things couples do."

your face was now burning red, and you nearly tripped trying to take a step back. "i-i told you— the letter wasn’t even for—"

"yeah, yeah," he said again, walking ahead like he didn’t care about your explanation, like he’d already decided it didn’t matter. "too late now. you picked me, so you’re stuck."

you wanted to scream. cry. evaporate. but deep down, beneath the panic and confusion, something else stirred. it wasn’t attraction—at least not yet—but something dangerous. something you didn’t understand. lee heeseung wasn’t just a school delinquent. he was unpredictable. and you’d just become his new favorite game.

you were still trying to recover from the sheer chaos that was walking beside lee heeseung — heart racing, cheeks on fire, trying to process the absurdity of everything he’d said — when he suddenly reached out again, this time gently tugging on your sleeve. “where is it?” he asked, glancing at the rows of quiet houses as the late afternoon sun started to melt into soft pinks and golds. you swallowed nervously and pointed to the corner, your voice barely above a whisper as you mumbled, “just past that turn, the grey gate with the vines.”

he didn’t respond right away. instead, as you reached the last stretch of the sidewalk, he suddenly grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks with a firm pull. you gasped in surprise, turning to look at him in confusion just as he took a step forward and used his grip to pull you toward him — so suddenly, so carelessly, that you lost your balance and stumbled right into his chest. before you could fall completely, strong arms wrapped around your waist and caught you easily, holding you steady like it was the most natural thing in the world. you barely had time to blink, your face only inches from his shirt, your breath caught in your throat.

“h-heeseung?” you started, your voice small, confused, your body stiff against his. “what are you—”

but you didn’t get to finish the question. he was already lifting your chin gently with one hand, his fingers warm against your cheek, and before your brain could catch up with what was happening, his lips were on yours.

your eyes widened, breath trapped in your chest as time seemed to slow down around you. his kiss wasn’t tentative or shy — it was confident, unhesitating, filled with a kind of raw emotion that made your legs tremble. his hands were firm, one cupping your face with surprising care and the other still resting against your lower back as he leaned in closer, deepening the kiss slowly, as if he was tasting you like something rare. your heart was thudding so loudly you could feel it in your ears, and your fingers clutched at the fabric of his uniform jacket, unsure whether to push him away or hold onto him tighter.

it was your first kiss. your very first kiss. and it had just been stolen by the most unpredictable boy in your entire school — the delinquent, the troublemaker, the one who scared half the campus and had probably never said anything sweet in his life. lee heeseung. of all people. and yet… it wasn’t harsh. it wasn’t cold. it was… dizzying. warm. overwhelming. and you hated that a part of you — a very quiet, hidden part — didn’t want it to stop.

when he finally pulled away, it wasn’t abrupt. he lingered close, your foreheads nearly touching, his breath mixing with yours in the tiny space between you. your lips were tingling, slightly swollen, and you lifted your hands to cover your mouth instinctively, your cheeks now painted with the deepest shade of red. your eyes were wide and glossy, still trying to process the heat, the softness, the unfamiliar ache in your chest.

heeseung looked pleased. no — he looked smug. he licked his bottom lip slowly, like he was savoring the taste, then murmured, “you taste sweet.”

you blinked rapidly, face aflame, your heart barely holding itself together inside your chest. “w-what—?!”

“mm, i wanna kiss you again,” he said bluntly, already leaning forward as if ready to do exactly that. you squeaked in panic, stepping back quickly and trying to escape, but he was faster, his arms wrapping around your waist again and pulling you close with one smooth motion that made your breath catch. “nah, don’t run,” he muttered against your temple, his tone lower now, almost affectionate, like he was getting used to having you near. “not when you look this cute after a kiss.”

you squirmed a little, still overwhelmed, but his arms were strong and warm around you, and somehow… you didn’t feel unsafe. flustered? yes. humiliated? probably. but not afraid. not when he held you like that — like you were his. like it was normal.

he dipped his head and kissed you again, this time slower, softer, like he wanted you to melt into it, and you nearly did. your hands hovered between your bodies before settling gently against his chest, not pushing away this time, just staying there, holding onto the reality that this was happening — this impossible, ridiculous moment was real.

and when he finally pulled away, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “you better get used to this,” you couldn’t even bring yourself to argue. you just stared at him, breathless, stunned, and a little enchanted despite yourself.

he let you go at last, stepping back with a lazy stretch and a grin that could only be described as devilish. “see you tomorrow, girlfriend,” he said casually, already walking away like he hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down. you stood frozen on the sidewalk, one hand still over your mouth, heart racing as you watched him disappear down the street.

and just like that, without meaning to, without even realizing what you’d started — you found yourself at the center of a strange, twisted, confusing story. a story that began not with a confession, but with a letter meant for someone else. a story that shouldn’t have happened.

and yet, it did.

that was how your very first love — strange and chaotic and sweet in the worst possible way — began with lee heeseung.

and somehow, you had a feeling… this was only the beginning.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the black sheep

a/n: wrote this at five in the morning after i woke up from a nightmare ✌️

summary: “don’t,” a sharp breath filled your lungs as you shook your head and your eyes instantly squeezed shut, “don’t do that… don’t act like you care just because my father pays you. I know you’re no better than all of the others out there…” 

warnings: soft!mob!bucky x mob boss daughter!reader, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, forbidden romance, age gap, sexual references, horrible and abusive family, bullying, mental illness (depression, anxiety, stress), references to being institutionalised at a terrible place against one's will, party, dancing, crying

word count: 1511

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The creak of a heavy pair of boots crossing over the threshold found your ears, though didn’t persuade your neck to twist around and see who had appeared in the doorway. 

“Miss?” Bucky’s tone echoed quietly throughout the room as his metal hand continued to clutch the doorhandle he’d just twisted. 

But instead of tearing your eyes away from the night sky that twinkled on the other side of the window, you instead continued to sit on the floor, the fancy dress you’d been forced into wrinkling around your legs, as you faintly began to murmur, “you know, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little…” your eyes traced one of the constellations gleaming above, “it wasn’t because I had some fascination with space, but it was the one thing I could imagine that would take me as far away from here as possible…” a breath escaped you before your vision finally floated back down to earth and you glanced over your shoulder, “would you mind closing the door? It’s so loud out there…” 

As you reunited your gaze to the world outside and you heard the door shut behind you, the mobster then carefully asked, “are you alright?” 

“Don’t,” a sharp breath filled your lungs as you shook your head and your eyes instantly squeezed shut, “don’t do that… don’t act like you care just because my father pays you. I know you’re no better than all of the others out there…” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried to conceal his painful awareness of your situation. 

“I know what the others say behind my back,” you uttered, your mind haunted by their voices, playing the comments on a loop till they turned into boiling tar, “poor Y/n, weak and broken Y/n who is crazy and could never really be a part of this family… but unfortunately for everyone, I am,” you breathed, memories of your adolescence flooded your system, how they had sent you away to a broken institution at the smallest sign of vulnerability, “so I could never just leave. I couldn’t go out and earn my own money, they would cut off any attempt I made of getting a job in this city,” you pointed out their power, “and if I tried to get away, move to somewhere else, then they would have to take care of that as well because they can’t have a liability just out there. They own me, and they’ve made sure that I am nothing without them, and with them, I’d never be able to accomplish a goddamn thing. They wouldn’t hesitate to cut my life short if I ever stepped out of line again, you know that, it happened to my aunt… for all I know, it’ll probably happen as soon as my brother takes over, it is after all what everyone has surely wished for since the day I was born…” 

As those last few venting words escaped your lips, a sinking feeling bloomed in your stomach as you realised those shattering truths hadn’t been contained in your thoughts alone. 

“Oh shit…” tears began to blur your vision as you spun around and jaggedly rose to your feet, “please don’t tell anyone about any of that,” you took a panicked step forward, “I–… I didn’t mean any of it, it’s not–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stared back at the gangster, “what do you want?” you attempted desperately, “do you want money? I could talk to my father and give you another leg up? I’ll give you whatever you want, just please don’t tell anyone, I–…” 

An idea then struck through your terrified blubbering, and without giving it another thought, you dropped down to your knees before him. 

“What are you doing?” he finally spoke, blinking down at you by his feet. 

Wiping your cheek as a steady flow of tears rolled down them, you then reached out for Bucky’s belt and sniffled, “you can have me, if that’s what could buy your silence.” 

But instead, your father’s right-hand man grabbed your hands, “stop,” he pleaded, “just stop.” 

Blinking up into his eyes, your hazy vision then drifted down to his fingers enveloping your wrists before you gloomily concluded, “…right…of course… I get it,” your head bowed even further as you uttered, “why would you think of me any differently… of course, you wouldn’t want me to touch you, you probably think I’m cursed just like the rest of them do…” 

But instead of ripping his touch away from your skin as if it was a scorching flame, Bucky’s frame suddenly lowered to be at your level, kneeling by you before he lifted one of your palms up to cup his stubbly cheek.

“I don’t,” a faint shake found his head, “never have,” you found yourself floating away into the ocean of his eyes as he stared back at you, his slow breath fanning across your wet cheeks at the close proximity, “I won’t tell anyone what you said,” he promised, his deep voice nearly at a whisper, “you have my word.”

But as you were filled with equal amounts of uncertainty, as well as shock, footsteps on the other side of the door found you both and tore you apart, just before the door ripped open and in strolled the boss himself. 

“Barnes!” your father’s glare landed on the mobster first before it shifted to find you, hastily wiping your cheeks, “oh great, you found her,” he uttered impatiently, “darling, come, it’s time for your brother to cut the cake. You need to be there,” he swiftly waved a hand for you to shadow him. 

The storm of the party made you feel as if you could come undone and burst into tears at any moment, pushing and shoving your shaky soul till you felt like just a tiny speck of dust floating around in the air. Keeping your gaze on the floor as you pushed through the bustling crowds, it stayed there as your sibling sank a shiny blade into the ridiculously elaborate cake that was rolled out for everyone to applaud. 

Raw and bleeding while the others drank and laughed, your vision finally found enough courage to flicker up, though only to find those same blue eyes, across the room and locked upon you. 

When the music soon was cranked up high and people swarmed to the middle of the floor in pairs, you briefly spotted one of your brother’s friends, a guy not too far from your own age, march straight towards you with an air of confidence that couldn’t help but relax your tense shoulders as you were slowly filled with hope. 

But as he neared and a greeting fell from your lips, a confused look muddled up his features as he shot you a glance before grabbing the waiting hand of a girl standing in the crowd behind you. 

Amused snickers and cruel comments found your ears even though you knew their tones attempted to be silent.

“What a freak.”

“Could you imagine if it had actually been her he’d wanted to dance with? In her dreams.”

“She should just run back to that insane asylum she somehow escaped from.”

With your back soon pressed up against one of the perimeter walls, a shadow then came to darken the spot on the floor your reddened eyes were glued to. 

“You wanna dance?” you glanced up with a wide pair of eyes to spot Bucky settled in beside you. 

“Why?” your brows knit together, “so that everyone can have another thing to laugh about?” 

Holding out his palm, he then let out a sigh, “just take my hand,” and the next thing you knew, your fingers were tangled in his own. 

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, your eyes darting around to all the bewildered glances that shot your way, a sudden breath then filled your lungs as his wide palm slid over your waist and dragged you in closer to his frame, causing your vision to cease their torture and meet his own steady gaze instead. 

The sway was slow and intimate, though you weren’t sure if the sensation terrified or calmed you, as the intoxicating way he made you feel had previously been something you’d packed far away as just an inconsequential crush back when he’d first started working for your father. Though as he held you in his arms and showed you a rare display of compassion, how could your heart not begin to thump once more?

With your gaze hazily cast over his shoulder as you danced so near that your cheeks almost touched, the warmth of his hand then slid down to your lower back before he whispered in your ear, “I know it won’t fix anything, but if it was up to me, you’d be the one inheriting this whole business, not your brother,” he uttered sincerely under his breath, “he’s a hot-headed idiot, while you are stronger and more brilliant than all of these fools combined.”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[jungwnies]

F1 Grid | valentines day

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerlc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested or not) : spending valentines day with your f1-boyfriend

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : tws : slight suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 3927

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : happy valentines day to everyone! <3

ʚ・max verstappen

you weren’t expecting much for valentine’s day. it wasn’t that max didn’t love you—he absolutely did—but he wasn’t exactly the grand romantic gesture type. if anything, you were prepared for the day to come and go without so much as a mention.

that is, until christian horner made an offhand comment about how he was taking geri out for a fancy dinner.

“wait, valentine’s day is today?” max blurted, nearly dropping his red bull can.

lando, sitting beside him, snorted. “oh, mate—you’re so screwed.”

max bolted from his seat, leaving his engineer mid-sentence, and disappeared before anyone could even process what had happened.

you were home, lounging in one of max’s oversized hoodies, when your phone started buzzing with frantic texts from him.

max: are you home? max: never mind, you are. stay there. max: actually, don’t move. i’m coming.

you barely had time to process his sudden urgency before you heard the sound of his car pulling into the driveway at breakneck speed. moments later, he burst through the door, slightly out of breath, hair a little messy, and holding… a grocery store bouquet and a bag from a bakery down the street.

“hey,” he panted, trying to act casual but failing miserably. “happy valentine’s day.”

your eyes flicked to the half-crushed bouquet in his grip and then to the bag, which he handled like it contained the secret to world peace.

“did you forget?” you asked, crossing your arms but already grinning.

“no,” he lied. then, with a sigh, “okay, yes, but only because no one told me.”

you giggled, taking the slightly squished flowers from him. “max, the world has been advertising valentine’s day for weeks.”

“yeah, well, i don’t look at pink and red decorations and think oh, i should do something romantic,” he huffed. “but i fixed it, right?”

you peered into the bakery bag, pulling out a heart-shaped pastry, and smiled. “did you at least try it before buying?”

his face turned sheepish. “i got two. ate one on the way home.”

laughing, you tugged him down onto the couch beside you, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “it’s perfect, max. i don’t need anything fancy—just you.”

his shoulders relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

“… good. because i really did panic-buy the flowers,” he admitted, making you burst out laughing.

he may have been chaotic, but he was your chaos, and honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

��・lewis hamilton

from the moment february began, you knew lewis had something planned.

it started when he casually asked you one night, his voice soft but certain, "will you be my valentine?" as if you could possibly say no.

you laughed, setting your book aside. "you're asking me like we haven't been together for years."

"i know," he grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "but you deserve to be asked properly."

and that was just the beginning.

by the time valentine's day arrived, you barely had to lift a finger.

when you woke up, there was a carefully wrapped box sitting on the edge of the bed, a note resting on top in lewis's elegant handwriting:

"good morning, my love. no need to stress about today. i have taken care of everything. wear this and be ready by seven. i will handle the rest. can't wait to see you. always yours, lewis."

you unfolded the tissue paper inside and found an outfit. the outfit. something effortlessly elegant, tailored to your style but with a touch of his own influence. he knew what would make you feel confident, comfortable, and beautiful.

a warmth bloomed in your chest. he had thought of everything.

when seven o'clock arrived, you stepped out of your room and found lewis waiting, looking devastatingly handsome in a custom suit. his eyes swept over you, appreciation lighting them up instantly.

"you look stunning," he murmured, stepping forward to take your hand.

"you picked it," you teased.

"doesn't make it any less true." he brought your fingers to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss there. "ready?"

"always."

the evening was a dream.

lewis had planned a private dinner at a breathtaking rooftop restaurant, candles flickering around you, soft jazz playing in the background. the menu had been curated just for you. your favorite dishes, a wine he knew you loved, even a dessert he had requested specifically because you once mentioned craving it months ago.

it was not just the grandeur of it all. it was him. the way he leaned in when you spoke, completely present. the way he reached across the table, tracing absentminded circles on the back of your hand. the way his eyes never left you, like he was still in awe after all this time.

"you really went all out, didn't you?" you mused, watching as he poured you another glass of wine.

lewis chuckled, shaking his head. "you deserve it. i wanted today to be perfect for you."

you smiled, heart full. "it already was the moment i woke up."

his fingers intertwined with yours, a soft look in his eyes. "i love you, you know."

"i know." you squeezed his hand. "i love you too, lewis."

and as the night carried on, filled with love, laughter, and little stolen kisses, you knew that no matter how much effort he put into the plans, what truly made the night special was simply him.

ʚ・george russell

george had been unusually secretive the past week.

nothing drastic, just little things. hushed phone calls, a knowing smirk when you asked about plans, and the way he would randomly glance at you with a quiet excitement in his eyes.

"you will see," was all he ever said.

and you did.

on valentine's day, just as the sky began to shift into soft hues of pink and orange, george pulled up to a secluded beach with a playful grin on his face.

"i thought we could do something different," he said, reaching over to squeeze your hand before hopping out of the car.

your eyes drifted over the shoreline, the gentle waves rolling in, and the salty breeze kissing your skin. there was no extravagant setup, no overwhelming display. just the sound of the ocean, the warmth of the setting sun, and george beside you, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

"you planned this?" you asked, smiling as he grabbed a picnic basket from the backseat.

"of course," he said proudly. "i wanted something simple, just us. no distractions, no cameras, no fancy restaurants. just this."

your heart swelled as he led you to a cozy spot where he had set up a blanket in the sand, the basket filled with your favorite snacks and a bottle of wine.

as you sat together, watching the waves roll in, george draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. "i know it is not much, but i wanted today to be about you and me, not some over-the-top production."

you looked up at him, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "it is perfect, george."

his lips curved into a soft smile before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "good. because there is nowhere else i would rather be than here with you."

the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the distant sound of the waves lulling you into a peaceful state. at one point, george pulled out his phone and played a song quietly through the speaker, a mellow tune that matched the peaceful ambiance of the beach.

"dance with me?" he asked, holding out his hand.

you let out a small laugh. "there is no music loud enough to dance to."

"we do not need loud music," he said, pulling you up anyway. "just trust me."

and so you did.

you swayed together under the dimming sky, bare feet sinking into the cool sand, his arms wrapped securely around you. it was simple. it was intimate. it was everything you never knew you needed.

as the last bit of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, george whispered, "happy valentine's day, love."

resting your head against his chest, you smiled. "happy valentine's day, george."

and in that moment, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the warmth of his embrace, you knew that this was love in its purest form.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos had always been charming. but tonight, he was on another level.

from the moment he picked you up, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that made him look impossibly handsome, you knew he had something special planned. his smirk was dangerous, the kind that sent warmth through your entire body.

“you look stunning, mi amor,” he murmured, leaning in just a little too close as his lips brushed your cheek. his cologne lingered, warm and intoxicating. “i almost want to skip dinner and keep you all to myself.”

you rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. “behave.”

“i make no promises,” he teased, leading you to the car.

the restaurant was one of your favorites, a cozy yet elegant spot that carlos had somehow managed to book despite its usual months-long waiting list.

the moment you were seated, he reached across the table, fingers brushing over yours as he gazed at you with that signature, lazy smirk. “i think i am already full just looking at you.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “that was terrible.”

“but did it work?” he asked, lifting your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it slowly, deliberately.

your skin tingled. “maybe a little.”

he grinned. “good.”

throughout dinner, he was extra attentive, making sure you had everything you wanted. his knee brushed against yours under the table, his voice dipped lower whenever he leaned in to whisper something just for you, and his fingers traced light patterns along your wrist whenever he held your hand.

at one point, he tilted his head, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“what?” you asked, smiling.

“nothing,” he murmured, his voice soft but deep. “i just love watching you when you are happy.”

your heart fluttered. “carlos.”

his smirk returned. “what? it is true.” he took a slow sip of his wine, eyes never leaving yours. “besides, i like to remind you how completely, hopelessly in love with you i am.”

your stomach flipped. “you are really pulling out all the stops tonight, huh?”

he leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “only because i know what it does to you.”

your breath hitched. “you are unbelievable.”

he smirked, fingers brushing over yours again. “and yet, you love me anyway.”

you sighed, pretending to be exasperated, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through your chest. “unfortunately.”

carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “i think you mean luckily.”

you looked at him, taking in the way his dark eyes burned with something deeper than just playful flirtation. beneath the teasing, beneath the smooth confidence, there was love. real, undeniable love.

and it was all for you.

as dinner came to an end, he reached for your hand again, tracing slow circles against your palm. “do you want dessert?”

you tilted your head. “are you actually talking about dessert, or is this another one of your lines?”

his lips twitched. “would you be disappointed if it was?”

you shook your head, laughing softly. “no.”

his fingers laced with yours as he brought your hand to his lips once more, voice low and full of promise.

“good.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles had monaco at his fingertips. it was beautiful, luxurious, and full of charm, just like him. but when valentine’s day approached, he surprised you with something unexpected.

“we are going to paris,” he had said casually over breakfast, sipping his coffee like he had not just dropped the most romantic idea possible.

your eyes widened. “paris? you live in monaco, one of the most beautiful places in the world, and you’re taking me to paris?”

he smirked, setting his cup down before leaning in. “everyone knows paris is for lovers, mon amour. and i want to spoil you properly.”

and he did.

the moment you landed, you felt the shift.

paris had its own kind of magic, the kind that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. the air smelled of fresh bread and soft rain, the streets alive with quiet charm. charles took your hand effortlessly, like he was meant to hold it, leading you through the city as if he had been born to love it, just as he had been born to love you.

the morning was slow and sweet, starting with a walk along the seine. he held your hand the entire time, stopping occasionally just to press a kiss to your temple, or to murmur something in french that he knew would make you blush.

“say something else,” you teased, smiling up at him.

he leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “tu es la plus belle chose que j’ai jamais vue.”

you shivered at the way his voice dropped, the way his breath was warm against your skin. “and what does that mean?”

he smirked, tugging you just a little closer. “it means you are the most beautiful thing i have ever seen.”

your heart flipped in your chest. “you are too good at this.”

“i am only good at this because it is you.”

he spent the afternoon showing you his favorite hidden spots. a small café tucked away from the crowds, where he ordered for you effortlessly in french, his accent rolling off his tongue like silk. a bookshop near the notre-dame, where he traced his fingers over the spines of old novels, claiming he was looking for something special to remember this trip by.

“i do not need souvenirs,” he said, slipping his arm around your waist. “you are the only thing i want to remember.”

by the time evening arrived, he had one final surprise.

he took you to the eiffel tower just as the sun was setting, the sky painted in soft pinks and golds. as the lights flickered to life, he turned to you, his hands resting firmly on your waist.

“beautiful,” he murmured.

“the view?” you teased, even though you already knew the answer.

he shook his head slowly. “you.”

your breath caught in your throat as he reached for you, his lips finding yours in a slow, lingering kiss. there was no rush, no urgency. just the feeling of being completely and utterly his, surrounded by the city of love, under the lights of paris.

his hands slid to the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles as he deepened the kiss. he pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, “you taste sweeter than any wine.”

your cheeks warmed, but before you could reply, he kissed you again, this time with just a hint of teasing, just enough to make your heart race.

by the time you arrived at the hotel, paris had already left you breathless.

the suite was stunning, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, warm candlelight flickering against the walls, and soft rose petals scattered across the bed.

you turned to charles, who was watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. “you really thought of everything.”

his smirk was slow, deliberate. “i always do.”

you stepped closer, hands resting against his chest. “why paris?” you asked, voice soft.

his hands found your waist easily, like he had been waiting for this moment all night. “because it is the most romantic city in the world.” his voice dropped slightly, eyes darkening as he pulled you even closer. “and because i wanted to make sure you never forget tonight.”

your pulse quickened as his fingers traced slow patterns along your lower back, his lips brushing just below your ear.

“i have given you paris,” he murmured, voice warm and deep. “now, i only want to give you me.”

his lips ghosted over your skin, teasing, lingering, waiting.

the night was still young.

ʚ・lando norris

you were this close to losing it.

sitting on your couch, phone in hand, you stared at the screen, thumb hovering over lando’s contact. it was nearly eight in the evening on valentine’s day, and there had been no text, no call, no nothing.

no “happy valentine’s, love.” no “can’t wait to see you.” not even a dumb meme.

you waited all day, giving him the benefit of the doubt. maybe he was busy. maybe he had something planned. maybe he forgot.

your blood simmered at that last thought. oh, if he forgot…

you hit the call button, heart pounding as it rang. once. twice. straight to voicemail.

“oh, hell no.”

you stood up, pacing the living room, preparing the argument in your head. you would start off calm. hey, babe, just wondering if you forgot a certain very important day? then you’d get passive-aggressive. wow, imagine forgetting your girlfriend exists. and if he dared to laugh, you would go full dramatic mode. maybe i should date someone who actually remembers i exist. maybe oscar piastri wouldn’t forget.

but before you could dial again, the doorbell rang.

you blinked, still mid-rant in your head. slowly, you walked over, swinging the door open, fully prepared to go off—

and there he was.

lando stood on your doorstep, slightly out of breath, holding entirely too many things at once. a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant, a small wrapped box, and a guilty, breathless grin on his face.

"hi," he said sheepishly, eyes twinkling.

you crossed your arms, biting back a smile. "you forgot, didn’t you?"

his jaw dropped in mock offense. "never!"

you gave him a pointed look. "then why do you look like you just ran a marathon?"

"because someone’s favorite restaurant takes forever to prepare food," he said, stepping inside as you moved aside. he held up the takeout bag like a trophy. "i have been standing in line for an hour. an hour, babe. do you know how many people are out there trying to get last-minute valentine's dinners? it’s war out there."

you snorted, shaking your head. "you could’ve at least texted me, lando. i was this close to picking a fight with you."

"believe me, i know," he muttered, placing everything down on the table. "i saw the missed call and almost died because i knew you were about to go nuclear on me."

you rolled your eyes as he unwrapped the takeout, the smell filling the room instantly. he grinned at your reaction, knowing full well how much you loved it.

"see?" he said, handing you a pair of chopsticks. "you thought i forgot, but really, i was just out here being the best boyfriend ever."

you raised an eyebrow. "you sure about that?"

he smirked. "mostly."

you shook your head, but when he grabbed a flower from the bouquet and tucked it gently behind your ear, your heart melted just a little.

"you do look really cute when you're mad, though," he added, grinning.

"lando," you warned, but he just laughed, pulling you onto the couch with him.

as you both started eating, he kept sneaking little bites of your food, dodging your half-hearted swats, grinning every time he managed to steal some.

"you're literally eating the same thing," you huffed.

"yeah, but yours tastes better."

"you are insufferable."

"and yet, here you are," he teased, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. "still mad at me?"

you sighed dramatically, resting your head against him. "i mean… i was really looking forward to yelling at you."

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "i know. next time, i’ll text you, my bad."

"next time?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

he winked. "next time i make you think i forgot."

you gasped, smacking his arm as he burst into laughter, dodging you like an overgrown child.

eventually, you both settled down, tangled together on the couch, sharing food, jokes, and soft kisses in between.

and despite all your earlier frustration, you realized you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

ʚ・oscar piastri

valentine’s day was meant to be easy this year.

no over-the-top plans, no rushing to a fancy restaurant, no stress about whether a reservation would fall through. just you and oscar, a quiet night in, and the simple comfort of being together.

you had both agreed on it weeks ago, sitting in bed one night when he casually asked, “so, what do you wanna do for valentine’s?”

you had shrugged, leaning against him. “something simple. movies, dinner at home, just us.”

his response had been instant. “perfect.”

and now, as you stood in the kitchen, stirring the sauce for dinner while music played softly in the background, you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

oscar walked in, freshly showered, his hair still damp as he leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy smile.

“you need help?” he asked, even though you both knew the answer.

“you just want an excuse to mess around,” you teased, throwing him a knowing glance.

he gasped in mock offense. “i would never.”

raising an eyebrow, you pointed at him with the spoon. “like last time, when you ‘helped’ by stealing half the ingredients and eating them before they even made it into the dish?”

he grinned unapologetically. “that was a tactical decision.”

laughing, you turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce as he moved behind you, arms sneaking around your waist. he rested his chin on your shoulder, watching over you like he was actually involved in the process.

“this is nice,” he murmured.

you smiled, leaning back against him. “told you. low-key is the way to go.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before pulling away. “alright, chef, what do i do?”

you handed him a cutting board with some vegetables to chop. “here. real help this time.”

he got to work, surprisingly efficient, only occasionally making faces at the onions like they had personally offended him.

by the time dinner was ready, the two of you set up in the living room, plates in hand, a blanket tossed lazily over your legs. the movie had barely started when you noticed oscar already halfway through his meal, focused but relaxed, like he was completely at home in this moment.

and, really, he was.

the two of you were tangled together on the couch, comfortable in the quiet moments, sneaking bites from each other’s plates, sharing knowing glances when something ridiculous happened in the movie.

at one point, he nudged you. “are you actually watching, or are you just staring at me?”

you smirked, setting your plate down. “maybe both.”

he huffed a laugh, shifting to face you fully. “well, if you’re gonna stare, at least make yourself useful.”

before you could ask what he meant, he pulled you closer, pressing his lips softly against yours. it was slow, unrushed, just like the night itself.

his hand found its way to your cheek, thumb tracing light patterns as he pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“happy valentine’s,” he whispered.

you smiled, brushing your nose against his. “happy valentine’s, oscar.”

he sighed contently, pulling you even closer as the movie played on, forgotten.

and in that moment, you realized that you didn’t need fancy dates or extravagant gestures.

because home wasn’t a place.

it was him.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[tokkiwrites]

game show host!joel miller x contestant f! reader ▪︎summary: it's the late 1970s, and you're fresh out of college. for your graduation gift, your parents got you a special ticket to be part of your favorite game show, 'Love Jive'. They didn't know you didn't like the show itselfㅡ but it's smooth talking MC, Joel Miller. ▪︎tags: pwp, age gap (pretty hefty one), super flirty joel, shy/lovestruck reader, afab!reader, pet names galore!!, p in v (unprotected), mirror sex kind of, slight breeding kink, creampie, joel kind of has an innocence kink idk.

▪︎this has been sitting in my drafts for two months now. Hopefully, you enjoy this short and silly 2.45k words one. There is no plot for it honestly, just thought it would be a cute concept. maybe a series might come from it. Who knows? anyway!!! love ya!!

It was the summer of 1979, and the air felt heavy with possibility. You were fresh out of college, diploma in hand, and ready to take on the world—or at least that’s what you told yourself when your parents asked what came next.

Their graduation gift to you? A surprise ticket to Love Jive, the hottest game show on TV. You’d tried to hide your awkward smile when they handed it over, the envelope sparkling with glitter that matched the show’s logo. What they didn’t know was that it wasn’t the show’s ridiculous premise that had you tuning in every week.

It was him.

Joel Miller.

The man was a legend, smooth as honey and twice as sweet. The way his Texan drawl slid over those ridiculous love-related catchphrases? You swore it had ruined you for men your own age. He had to be at least twenty years older than you, but that salt-and-pepper hair, that sly smile, those broad shoulders stretching under his velvet blazer? They didn’t make men like Joel Miller anymore.

So here you were, standing nervously behind the curtain in the Love Jive studio.

“Contestants, ready?” a stagehand called.

Your stomach did a flip as the warm-up announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. The audience clapped and cheered, the excitement infectious. Before you could second-guess yourself, the curtain lifted, and the stage lights bathed you in gold.

And there he was.

Joel Miller stood center stage, microphone in hand, looking like he owned the room— and maybe he did. That million-watt smile lit up his face, his dark eyes sweeping the contestants before landing on you. He did a double take so subtle you almost missed it, but when his smile softened just a fraction, your heart skipped a beat.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” His voice rolled through the air like warm molasses, drawing chuckles from the crowd. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some fine contestants tonight. Y’all ready to find love and maybe a little bit of fun?”

The audience erupted in cheers, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to join them. Not when Joel Miller was staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

“And what’s your name, darlin’?” Joel asked, pointing the microphone toward you.

You blinked, mouth suddenly dry. “Uh—uh, it’s—” You blurted out your name, voice cracking slightly. Joel chuckled, low and smooth, his dimples deepening as he grinned. “Well now, ain’t you just the sweetest thing. Y’all hear that? Even her name’s cute as a button.”

The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d, but Joel’s gaze stayed locked on you.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning ever so slightly closer, “what brings a lovely little thing like you to Love Jive? Lookin’ for romance? Or just here for the spectacle?” Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you prayed the lights were too bright for anyone to notice. “Um, I—I guess you could say both?”

Joel’s eyebrows lifted, and his grin turned downright wicked. “Both, huh? Well, darlin’, I can promise you this much—you’re in for one hell of a show.” The crowd roared their approval as Joel winked at you, leaving your heart thundering in your chest. You’d come to Love Jive expecting to admire Joel Miller from afar. You hadn’t counted on becoming the center of his attention.

And as the game began, one thing became crystal clear: Joel wasn’t just hosting tonight. He was playing a game of his own— and you were the prize he had his sights set on.

Fast forward to the 15-minute commercial break.

The knock on the door came firmly, pulling you out of your flustered thoughts. You glanced at the mirror, smoothing down your blouse and trying to will away the redness on your cheeks. “Come in,” you called out, voice trembling slightly.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Joel Miller, the man of all your desires.

The sight of him so close took your breath away. He leaned casually against the doorframe for a moment, his dark eyes settling on you. His smile, warm and teasing, was the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. “Well, there you are,” he drawled, his voice like velvet. “Thought I’d come check on you, see how my favorite contestant’s holdin’ up.” You blinked, trying to find your voice. “Oh, uh—fine! I’m fine,” you stammered, your hands twisting nervously.

Joel stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The dressing room wasn’t large to begin with, and his presence filled it completely, making the space feel even smaller.

“Fine, huh?” he said, leaning against the vanity, his arms crossing casually over his chest. “Can’t blame you for bein’ a little flustered. All those lights, all those people… and me.” His grin turned teasing, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “It’s not—I mean, you’re not—”

“Sweetheart, relax,” Joel interrupted, his voice a low chuckle. “I’m just messin’ with you.” His eyes softened, and he tilted his head. “But if I’m bein’ honest, you’ve got somethin’ about you. That’s got me wonderin’ if maybe I’m the one a little flustered tonight.”

Your heart skipped at his words. “Me?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. Joel’s grin deepened, his dimples on full display. “Yeah, you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. He stepped closer, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Pretty little thing like you walkin’ in here, lookin’ all sweet and innocent, got every man in the audience wishin’ he was sittin' in my shoes tonight.” You felt like your face might catch fire. “I don’t think that’s true,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel reached out, gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at him. His hand was warm and firm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Well, I do,” he said softly, his dark eyes holding yours. “And I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweet girl."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping even lower. “I was thinkin’... maybe once this show wraps up, you and I could get outta here. Go somewhere quiet. Just you and me.” Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you felt dizzy under his gaze. “You mean… like a date?”

Joel chuckled, the sound rich and deep. “Exactly like a date,” he murmured. “What do you say, sweetheart?” You nodded before you could overthink it, your shy smile breaking free. “I’d really like that.” Joel’s grin turned downright wicked. “Good,” he drawled, his hand sliding to cradle your cheek. “’Cause I’ve been dyin’ to do this all night.”

Before you could say another word, Joel leaned in and kissed you. His lips were warm and sure, moving against yours with a perfect mix of confidence and tenderness. You felt your hands instinctively grip the vanity behind you, your knees going weak as his other hand settled lightly on your waist.

The kiss lingered, soft and sweet, but with just enough heat to leave your head all dizzy. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Damn,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, “even better than I imagined.” You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you, shy and giddy all at once. “You imagined kissing me?”

Joel grinned, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Oh, I imagined far more than kissing you, darlin’. Hard not to when you look at me the way you do.” Your heart felt like it might burst, but before you could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door. “Mr. Miller, we’re back in two!”

Joel sighed dramatically, giving you a wink as he stepped back. “Guess I better get back to work,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still lingering on you. “Don’t go runnin’ off after the show, y’hear? I’m not done with you yet.” You nodded, still too flustered to form a coherent sentence. With one last smirk, Joel turned and strolled out the door, leaving you breathless.

The show had ended in a blur of applause, flashing lights, and the announcer’s booming voice thanking everyone for watching. Contestants and crew mingled briefly as everyone prepared to leave. You’d just stepped to the side of the stage when one of the other contestants, a bubbly blonde in a bright orange jumpsuit, sidled up to you with a knowing smile.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow. “Looks like you really got Mister Smooth swooning all over ya.”

You blinked, startled. “What? No, I don’t think—”

“Oh, honey,” she interrupted with a laugh, crossing her arms. “Everyone could see the way he was devouring you with his eyes. I swear, I was worried he might forget the rest of us were even there.” Your face went hot, and you shook your head quickly. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure,” she said with a wink, already walking away. “If by ‘imagining things,’ you mean watching him look at you like you hung the moon. Enjoy it, sweetie. A man like Joel Miller doesn’t come around every day.”

Her words echoed in your head as you made your way back to your dressing room. Closing the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, desperate for a moment to collect yourself. The quiet was a relief after the chaos of the show. You slipped out of your stage outfit and into the dress you’d brought for afterward. A soft yellow dress with bell sleeves, a cinched waist, and a flowing A-line skirt covered in a delicate floral print. It felt like something out of a sunny dream, and you hoped it might give you a touch of the confidence you sorely lacked.

You were smoothing the fabric over your hips when the door opened without warning.

“Oh, wow.” The single word made you whirl around. There he was. Joel Miller, standing in the doorway. His tie was loosened, his shirt collar slightly unbuttoned, and his dark eyes were locked on you. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, the words leaving his lips like a breath. Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you managed a shy smile. “Oh, it’s just… just a dress,” you murmured, brushing your hands nervously over the skirt.

Joel stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he approached. His gaze was unwavering, taking you in like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Just a dress, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you could be wearin’ a paper bag, and you’d still be the most beautiful thing in the room.” You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Joel stopped in front of you, lifting a hand to gently cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, his touch warm and steady.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, before closing the space between you.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. Where the earlier kiss had been soft and tentative, this one was sure, filled with hunger and intent. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a passion that made your knees weak.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak— only feel. His touch, his warmth, the way he held you like you were something rare. “Been thinkin’ about doin’ that since the first time I saw you,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You let out a breathless laugh, your hands clutching the lapels of his jacket for balance. “You’ve kissed me twice tonight, Joel,” you teased, your voice trembling slightly. Joel grinned, his dimples making an appearance. “Yeah, I have a soft spot for sweet girls like yourself. ” he said before pausing shortly. “And if you’ll let me, darlin’, I’d be doin' a lot more than kissing you.”

Stopping him was the furthest thing from your mind.

"I'll let you.."

Without thinking, you tilt your head up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of submission and maybe a little defiance. His eyes darken, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he's won some battle. " You're a good girl," he breathes, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. The contact sends sparks through you, and your skin burns where he touches. Without any hesitation, he spins both of you so that you are facing the large golden mirror above the counter. Joel groans, rolling his shoulders back as he bends you over the vanity, your hips snug in his grip. "God, you're so fuckin' gorgeous, angel."

you look down. "Please.." The man shakes his head and lands a hard smack on one of your asscheeks, making you yelp in the process. He takes his time pulling up your flowy dress, finally taking a look at your soaking panties, white with laced blue details. "Fuck, look at her." His calloused thumb makes contact with your clothed folds, dragging it up and down, in painfully slow circles. In mere seconds, you hear the material rip and then feel the flimsy undergarments fall on the cold tiled floor.

"What a pretty pussy." he mutters under his breath, undoing his trousers. he pulls them a bit down, enough for his manhood to spring free and slap against his covered bellybutton. you can see it all in the mirrorㅡ it's huge, to say the least. you gasp softly as you feel him drag the wet tip of it against your swollen bud, and you hide your gaze, head hanging low in embarrassment. this doesn't last long, as his rough palm grabs at your face pulling it up again. you're making eye contact with him through the lit up mirror and you see him shake his head. "No, baby. You watch while I wreck this pussy, understand?" you shake your head, agreeing, but that isn't good enough so he slaps your cheek with the back of his hand, lightly.

"Speak, sweetheart." you breathe out. "Yes, Joel." he drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down as if he didn't make you wait long enough. truthfully you never wanted it to end, so maybe him teasing was his way of making sure this lasts. after he thinks its sufficient, Joel starts to push inside, and godㅡ your breath gets stuck into your throat, from the feeling laden with thorns. every prick of discomfort is soon replaced by an unexpected surge of delight.

Your tears fall down onto the surface under you, little moans gripping your throat as he slips inside further. "You're alright..." he assures you, asking you to surrender.

"Take it all. Atta girl, just like that..." he praises, lifting your hips a bit to get a better angle. Joel moves gently at first, each stroke hitting deeper within your core, the pain soon converging with ecstasy right as he alerts his movements. His hips dive down with force, one of his palms snaking up and wrapping itself tightly around your throat, assuring you see how good he's destroying you.

Your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, little girl, look how tight she's suckin' me in." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each time. your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made wrapped around him.

"Oh, god, please.." You manage. pulling at your hair, he starts chuckling. "Am I your god, baby? Ya like beggin'?" While thrusting relentlessly into you, jelly like legs barely holding you up anymore, your knees buckle. Feeling you tightening, the hand that was around your throat slips down to your clit, while the other makes you spread your legs wide again for easier access, this allowed you to take in a big gulp of air before you feel him deeper in your guts.

"Want me to breed this young pussy, huh? Fill you up with my babies? let people inside this roomㅡ let them film it for the whole world to see?" the room spins around you, vision blurry with tears and brain all fuzzy. you try your best to reply. "yes, oh, p-lease, please! "

"Go ahead." the man succeeded to say, between his breathy groans. "Thank you, thank you, oh god, thank you so much, Joel!" you cry out, praying to him whilst he keeps fucking into your pulsing cunt. The man buries himself into you as you come down from your high, body almost too limp to register your surroundings. then he slaps your ass, and watches you writhe under him. You looked perfect, like a carved our porcelain doll. With a few more snaps of his hips you feel he's close, his nails digging roughly into your skin as he finally paints your velvet walls with white ropes of come. "God fuckin'ㅡ!" you know that will leave bruises.

the dressing room feels sticky, and the mirror in front of you is all fogged up, but you can just barely make out your face, all tearstained and messy. You moan as he pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness leaving you shivering. Joel watches intently as his seed drips out of you, your body beautifully splayed out right under him like the most beautiful piece of art.

You're both quiet for a bit, before he breaks the silence. "You're still up for that date, little lady?"

[plutotheplum]

chapter four | the chariot

caleb x fem!reader

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “You’re not leaving.” Caleb stalks towards you, his fingers sliding under your chin, tilting your head up. “You’re not leaving until you’re fucked full of my cum.” He dips his head, the tip of his nose grazing yours. “Understand, sweetheart?”

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, modern au, smut, fluff, kissing, oral sex, p in v, breeding kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, biting, bondage, vaginal fingering, handjob, dog tags, inappropriate photos, confessions

wc: 6.9k

a/n: this turned out to have a little more romance than i was expecting to write but i hope you enjoy! caleb is just soooo 🫦

also on ao3!

series masterlist | next up: the emperor

“Why are you wearing a scarf?”

You clear your throat, fingers tapping against the side of your glass of juice agitatedly. 

“It’s quite cold, isn’t it?” you supply lamely, fingers itching to reach up and tug the scarf tighter around your neck, desperately hoping that Caleb hadn’t taken notice of the marks that were now in full bloom.

“Cold?” he echoes, raising his brows. “We’re in the middle of spring. Are you feeling sick?”

You hardly hear his question because you’re too busy trying to tilt your head in a way that doesn’t look too suspicious. The stupid fabric was beginning to itch, and it was driving you crazy.

Xavier had offered to help when he’d found you in his kitchen in the morning, desperately twirling a whisk against your neck. It had hardly helped. You would’ve opted for a turtleneck, but there was a certain lack of them in your closet. Instead, you’d rummaged around, managing to fish out an oddly-patterned scarf from the depths.

“C’mon, are you sick?” Caleb prods, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, the couch dipping under both your weights as you shift.

“No,” you mumble, silently wishing that this wasn’t happening right now. All you can manage is a pitiful excuse. “I just happen to really like scarves, Caleb.”

“Well, it looks ridiculous,” he says drily, nuzzling into your cheek. “You gonna take it off anytime soon?”

“It’s chic,” you correct, trying to squirm away from him. “And no, I’m still cold.”

Caleb huffs out a laugh, his lips pressing against your cheek fondly. You bite your lip when he picks you up, situating you on his lap, his chest warm against your back. Normally, it’d feel nice if you weren’t currently overheating and overwhelmed. 

You stiffen when Caleb rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you closer. His lips drag across your jaw in a fleeting kiss and you can feel your eyes sliding shut, lulled into a state of comfort by his thumbs gently rubbing circles into your stomach through your dress.

Out of everyone, Caleb was the one you’d known the longest. You’d grown up together, until he’d moved away for a couple of years before coming back, his demeanor a little more intense than you’d remembered. You still weren’t sure of the reason, but Caleb had gotten sterner over the years, less willing to let you go.

He’d been your first kiss back then, your lips clumsy and inexperienced when he’d kissed you and shy, fleeting glances exchanged between you when he’d walked you home, his hand grasping yours firmly.

You’d never quite gotten the chance to explore the possibility of something more… serious with him, not when Caleb was joining the military soon after. You’d hardly even seen him around until the past few months, his schedule freeing up while he awaited deployment. 

“I missed you,” Caleb murmurs, his nose nudging against the side of your head.

“I missed you too,” you mumble, playing with his fingers, your palm pressing against his a few moments later, hands locking together.

He smiles, and you hum when he squeezes your hand, wiggling on his lap happily. Caleb lets out a low noise, one his hands curling over your hip to stop you.

“Don’t do that,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re no fun.”

Caleb huffs out a breath, his face pressing into your neck with the intention of mouthing across your skin. He lets out an irritated noise when he’s met with a faceful of your woolly scarf, letting out an exasperated breath.

“Please take the damn thing off.”

“Can’t,” you reply, feigning innocence, “it’s too cold.”

Caleb narrows his eyes. “I can warm you up.”

You shake your head, jerking out of his grasp when he tries to tug your scarf free from around your neck. You’re at your wits end, squeaking when Caleb tries to lunge for you again.

“I want to have sex with the scarf on, Caleb!”

“Is that a new kink?” he laughs, his eyes lighting up, “c’mon baby, you gotta take it off.”

You squeal when he manages to catch you, your little dance around his coffee table coming to an end when he pulls you into his chest, his arms firm and unrelenting, preventing your escape.

“S- stop!” you yelp, trying to squirm out of his arms, shrieking when he hooks his fingers into the gap between your scarf and neck, pulling it free. “Caleb!”

Caleb catches your hand when you try to cover up your neck, his expression dropping when he sees the extent of damage Xavier had laid to your skin. You stare up at him, swallowing nervously, fingers itching at your side, desperately wanting to snatch the scarf back from him.

“What,” he sucks in a shaky breath, “what the fuck is that?”

“N- nothing!” you protest, trying to turn your back to him. “It’s- it’s probably just an allergic reaction to my scarf!” You manage to twist yourself, hand shooting out to grab your scarf, pretending to give the little tag a once-over. “Mhm, yep, definitely an allergic reaction. I- I am, in fact, allergic to wool.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Caleb scoffs, “I know you aren’t allergic to anything.”

“It happens with age,” you lie through your teeth, “ever heard of dermatitis?”

Caleb stares at you blankly, shaking his head incredulously after a moment. “You’ve been spending too much time with Zayne,” he mutters. You watch uneasily as he balls his hands up into fists before he unclenches them, his fingers spreading out in a strained gesture. “Who did it?”

“Xavier,” you mumble, playing with your fingers. 

“I’m going to missile strike his apartment.”

You’d laugh if you weren’t so on edge. “You can’t do that,” you reply exasperatedly, “I live in the same apartment complex, remember? Besides, wouldn’t that be like a crime?”

“That is a crime,” Caleb snaps, pointing at your neck accusingly, “I mean what the fuck did you do with him? He’s practically tried to devour you whole.”

You flush when you remember what you had done with Xavier. The teasing, the feeling of his mouth on your tits, you’d enjoyed it.

Caleb glares at you when he sees the faraway look in your eyes, his arms crossing over his chest. “You don’t have to look so satisfied.”

“Well, he did satisfy me,” you mutter under your breath, shifting on your feet awkwardly.

Caleb scrubs a hand over his face before running his fingers through his hair. His jaw clenches as he stares down at you, gaze fixated on the discolored splotches that cover your neck. There’s an uncomfortable tension in the air and you wring your hands together, averting your gaze from his.

“I can leave,” you offer quietly, “if that’s what you w-”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “You’re not leaving.” Caleb stalks towards you, his fingers sliding under your chin, tilting your head up. “You’re not leaving until you’re fucked full of my cum.” He dips his head, the tip of his nose grazing yours. “Understand, sweetheart?”

“What?” you ask breathlessly, somehow pinned in place by his darkened gaze and stern expression, holding none of the playful humor that you were accustomed to.

“You’re not leaving my apartment until I fuck you full of my cum,” Caleb repeats, tightening his grip on you. “Do you understand?”

“Well, I-” you sputter, cheeks hot, struggling to comprehend his words. 

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, spinning you around, his palm warm against your stomach. You bite back a whimper when he caresses your stomach, his hand pressing down firmly when you turn your head, eyes fluttering shut.

Caleb keeps his hand there, fingers splaying out, trying to encompass every inch of you that he can. His nose nudges against the side of your head, his breath hot against your skin. “Cat got your tongue, hm? You can go and sleep with those two pieces of shit but you can’t answer a simple question, huh?”

“Xavier’s not a piece of shit,” you shoot back agitatedly, eyes opening to send him an irritated look. “And neither is Rafayel. Grow up, Caleb.”

“I was right here,” he hisses, glaring down at you. “I was right fucking here and you decided you wanted to fuck four other men to have a fucking baby.”

“Yes, I did,” you retort sharply, turning in his arms, your finger pressing into his chest harshly. “If you can’t handle that, then maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

Caleb’s eyes flash with anger, his grip on you loosening when you take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I agreed first,” he snaps, “or did you forget about that little detail?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” you say exasperatedly, throwing your arms up. “I’m here, in your fucking apartment, Caleb! And yes,” you snap harshly, blinded by your irritation, not quite paying attention to the words slipping out of your mouth, “I want to be fucked full of your cum!”

Caleb’s expression falters when he hears the latter part of your outburst, his eyes widening. Your chest heaves, a frustrated sound leaving you when you realize what you’ve said. You may as well have grabbed a shovel and started looking for a plot of land to bury yourself in.

Instead, you send him a glare that you hope is venomous enough, shoving past him to save face, storming into his bedroom.

“Hey, what are you-” Caleb begins, trailing after you awkwardly, his movements unsure. 

Still fuming, you unzip your dress, flinging the fabric at his stupidly handsome face, irritated by his bewildered expression. Caleb’s face disappears for a moment while he sputters, managing to ball your dress up before you throw your bra and panties in his face too. His cheeks flush at the sight of your panties, his fingers clenching around the lace.

“I’m ready,” you announce, well aware of the marks Xavier had left on your breasts and a few more that were hidden between your thighs. You gesture towards yourself. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Fuck me.”

“Uh-” Caleb clears his throat, taken aback by your sudden burst of determination, “maybe you should… calm down first?”

“You think I should calm down?” you retort sharply, “you’re the one that was throwing a temper tantrum!”

“For good reason!” he protests, setting your clothes down on top of his dresser before stepping towards you. “All someone needs to do is take one look at your neck and they’d understand where I’m coming from.”

“You started it with Xavier,” you hiss, finger prodding into his chest once again, “if you hadn’t riled him up, then maybe he wouldn’t have done this.” You gesture towards your neck agitatedly.

“Clearly it’s not just your neck, is it?” Caleb murmurs, his hand sliding up over your waist, his warm, calloused hand cupping your breast, squeezing gently. “All over your tits too.” He frowns at the sight, leaning back to watch your nipples harden at his ministrations, his eyes narrowing when he sees the splotchy marks left by Xavier. “You call that fair, sweetheart?”

All you can manage is a stubborn pout, averting your gaze. He sighs, and you shuffle forward, pressing your face into his chest. “He apologized,” you say, remembering the way Xavier had been on his knees. You let out a heavy breath. “Turns out he’s really good at apologizing.”

“I bet he is,” Caleb grumbles bitterly, his fingers pinching at your nipple absentmindedly.

You whimper, silently cursing yourself for being so weak. Caleb’s other hand comes up to cup your other breast, weighing it in his hand. The breath he lets out sounds a little too strained to be considered normal, your head tilting upwards to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he says finally, his thumbs stroking over your nipples, his expression turning slightly serious.

Caleb lowers his head, his nose brushing against yours. He doesn’t go any further, simply staring into your eyes. It’s a little unnerving until you realize what he wants from you. Fingers curling into his shirt, you bring him a little closer to you, eyes slipping shut as your lips meet his in a chaste kiss.

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper against his lips, “for not being understanding of your um-” you pause, trying to think of the right word, “preferences?”

He hums, his hand sliding up over the side of your neck to cup your cheek. “Yeah,” Caleb murmurs, “I still don’t think you understand what you mean to me.”

You blink up at him, brows furrowing in confusion. Caleb’s eyes bore down into yours, his expression conflicted. You stare into his eyes searchingly when you think you spot a hint of wistfulness breaking through. “Caleb?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he whispers, both of his hands cupping your cheeks now. “I like you, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you say, the tension bleeding out from you. “I like you too, Caleb,” you chirp, a smile on your face, “you didn’t have to scare me like that.”

“What?”

“What?” you parrot back, confusion marring your expression yet again.

“No,” Caleb huffs out an irritated breath, “no, I like you.”

You give him a blank look. “...I know. You just said that.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, “I like you as in romantically. As in I’ve spent the last fifteen years of my fucking life pining after you.”

What? Your mouth opens before you close it, stunned into silence. You always knew Caleb had a little thing for you, but fifteen years? 

“And you didn’t say anything earlier?” you manage out, “and you chose to confess now?” You gesture towards your bare body, cheeks flushing.

“The timing was never right,” he replies stubbornly, his eyes narrowing, “and yes.”

“I don’t think the timing is right now!” you protest, shaking your head.

“You don’t feel the same way.”

You shoot him an indignant look. “I didn’t say that, Caleb. It’s just… it’s complicated. You know it is.”

“Always is with you, isn’t it?” he murmurs, his jaw clenching.

“Are you serious?” you begin, feeling cornered, “if you had just said some-”

You’re cut off when Caleb dips his head, pressing a bruising kiss against your lips, one that steals the air from your lungs, leaving your vision blurry when he pulls back.

“It’s okay,” Caleb says, his arms sliding under your thighs to pick you up before he dumps you on his bed unceremoniously. “The baby’s going to be mine, and when it is, I’m going to put a pretty fucking ring on this finger.”

“Marriage?” you squeak out, your complaints muffled by his mouth when he crawls over you, his mouth working against yours hungrily.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, pecking your lips gentler this time, “‘m gonna marry you, sweetheart.”

You were fairly certain the constant high altitudes he was flying at had gotten to his brain. Zayne could help, you think belatedly, until that thought is brushed away when he kisses your cheek, his lips returning to yours soon after, his tongue licking into your mouth, 

“What if the baby’s not yours?” you ask him breathlessly, thighs spreading wider when he settles his hips between them.

Caleb frowns at you, his grip adjusting on your hip. “It’ll be mine,” he says self-assuredly, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t be sure-”

“I’ll cum twice,” Caleb retorts.

“That’s- that’s against the rules!” you try to protest, a needy sigh slipping out of you when he mouths at your neck, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin as though trying to erase the marks laid there. “You- you all agreed to cum once ah- to- to make it fair!”

“Nothing fair about this whole thing, honey.”

Your toes curl when he calls you honey, an unbidden giggle slipping out of you. Caleb leans back to stare at your expression, a smile pulling at his lips when he sees you trying to hide away in the pillows, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, pressing soft kisses all over.

“You like that,” he laughs, his hand finding its way between your thighs.

“So- so what?” you ask breathlessly, moaning against his mouth when he slides his fingers between your puffy folds, your lips meeting his for a brief kiss, hips bucking when Caleb rubs your clit.

“So stop pretending like you don’t.”

You paw at his broad shoulders, fingers latching onto his biceps greedily. Caleb groans softly at your groping, his eyes going half-lidded, a pretty pink tinging his cheeks when you run your hands over his chest, squeezing his firm pecs.

“Take your shirt off,” you whisper, hands sliding under the hem of his shirt to feel his bare skin.

Caleb complies, sitting back on his knees. You watch as he pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, the silver chain around his neck grabbing your attention, the metal of his dog tags clinking together. 

“You still wear these?” you muse as you sit up, your fingers coming up to fiddle with his dog tags, flipping one of them over to read his name stamped into the metal. “Even when you’re not deployed?”

“All the time,” he murmurs, his fingers encircling your wrist, lips brushing over your knuckles.

You shiver at the fleeting kiss, leaning forward, your hands pushing at his chest to get him to lie down. Swinging a leg over his hip, you settle down on his lap, watching the way his dog tags settle between his pecs.

“I suppose you are a big shot, Caleb,” you sigh, biting your lip, fingers skimming down his chest teasingly.

“Colonel,” he corrects, watching hazily as you squirm down to settle on his thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweats and boxers to pull them down.

Caleb’s cock slaps against his abdomen, hard and thick and somewhat imposing. You stare down at his arousal, cheeks flushing at the sight, watching as his cock twitches, pre-cum smearing across his skin.

“‘s nice,” you offer, hand wrapping around his cock, cunt throbbing when you feel the weight of him in your hand. “And- and big.”

“Bigger than theirs?” he asks, raising his brows, watching you closely as you begin to stroke his cock lazily.

Sylus’ was comparable, but you decide against telling him that, lest he throw another fit. Instead you nod, fighting the urge to roll your eyes when Caleb’s chest puffs out, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

His hand slides between your thighs and you shift, settling on top of it, grinding your hips across his calloused palm, wetness coating his skin. Caleb lets out a heavy breath and you whine, mouth opening and tongue lolling out to let spit drip from your mouth onto his cock. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, throwing an arm over his face to hide his flushed expression, “baby, you’re fucking insane.”

“You wanted to missile strike another man’s apartment,” you shoot back, trying to pry his arm away from his face, eager to see his expressions. “Wanna see, Caleb.”

“I never said the idea was off the table,” he grouses, tilting his head to the side to let you mouth at his neck, his hips bucking up into your touch, trying to fuck his cock into the confines of your hand. “He could be a security threat,” Caleb mutters, his hands groping at your ass, squeezing and kneading. “Remind me to do a background check.”

“You’re such a baby,” you sigh, peering down to watch his cock move through your hand, tightening your grip.

A glob of pre-cum pools from the tip of his cock and you squirm, trying and failing to shuffle down and take his cock into your mouth, glaring at him when he keeps you anchored against him, on his lap.

“Always hungry for cock, hm?” Caleb coos, drawing out a loud moan from you when he curls his fingers, sinking them into your clenching pussy. “My cock-hungry little slut.”

You stifle a whimper, hips rising and falling as you fuck yourself on his fingers. His cock throbs in your hand and you squeeze, watching as more globs of thick pre-cum bead at the tip, smearing across when you spit down on his cock again, your lustful gaze meeting his.

“What?” you mumble, pecking his lips gently, eyes fluttering shut.

“Nothing,” he breathes out against your lips, his fingers crooking further, your head tipping back when his fingers hit the sensitive spot inside of you, the feeling enough to have you crying out. “You’re just… pretty.”

You blink up at him, lower lip jutting out in a pout, heart lurching uncomfortably in your chest. You press your face into the crook of his neck, your wrist twisting at a faster pace, jerking him off more desperately.

“Ah-” Caleb moans, his hand on your hip tightening when you rock your hips faster, his eyes squeezing shut when he feels the clench of your pussy around his fingers. “Slow down, honey.”

“I wanna watch you cum,” you say, teeth scraping along his shoulder, thumb brushing over the head of his cock, smiling when you feel Caleb jolt and grunt.

“No-” he shakes his head, “no, shit- I can’t cum now, baby.”

You ignore him, hand stroking faster, your other hand drifting to cup his balls, massaging them gently. Caleb curses and you squeal when he slaps your ass, the view of his room changing suddenly when he grabs you by your hips and pins you down into the bed.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him that you weren’t done stroking his cock, but you’re only met with the creak of Caleb’s bed as he gets off of it, disappearing through the door. Your brows furrow, the bed dipping as you crawl to the edge of the bed. “Caleb?” you call out, “are- are you coming back?”

Your confusion only grows when he returns with your scarf in hand. “I- I wasn’t serious,” you begin, feeling disoriented when he moves towards you, “I don’t actually want to have sex with the scarf on.”

Caleb smiles, his eyes glittering with mirth. “I thought it might help you keep your hands to yourself,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, making your face scrunch up. 

You stare up at him, head tilting in question. Caleb huffs out a laugh at your expression, nose nudging against yours to land a kiss to your lips this time. His hands slide under you, picking you up before placing you closer to the headboard of his bed. You squirm under him, watching as he straddles you.

While he’s too busy pinning your wrists together, you lean forward, mouth enveloping his cock. Caleb jerks at the sudden sensation, cursing loudly, his body hunching over as you lap at the head of the cock.

“Can you listen for once?” he asks exasperatedly, his eyes narrowing down to look at you as you try to crane your neck forward, trying to take him deeper into your mouth.

Caleb rolls his eyes when you don’t listen, his fingers sliding over your wrists, winding your woolly scarf around and around, effectively binding them together. You whine when his cock slips out of your mouth with a soft pop, trying to sit up only to find your movement restricted. Your head tilts back, a huff of air leaving you when you realize he’s tied your wrists to the railing of the headboard of his bed.

“I didn’t know you were into bondage, Caleb.”

“It’s not-” Caleb sputters for a moment, before he stares at you suspiciously, “how do you know what bondage is?”

You smile up at him sweetly. “I like to read.”

He decides against chastising you, instead making a mental note to pry into whatever it was that you were reading. Your eyes flutter shut when he strokes his hand over your hair, his lips slotting over yours. “Is this okay?” he asks, fingers trailing down your sides to grip your hips, “being tied up?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, pecking his lips gently, “it’s okay.”

You bite your lip as you watch him slink down your body, his lips leaving kisses as he moves. A soft sigh escapes you when he swirls his tongue around your nipple, his teeth biting down gently before he kisses your nipple, smiling against your skin when you twitch.

Caleb’s fingers slide over your stomach, his teeth scraping across your skin. You whimper when he settles between your thighs finally, trying to reach down to run your fingers through your hair only to be reminded of the fact that you’ve been tied up.

“Hands to yourself, honey,” he reminds you, his eyes twinkling with amusement when you pout.

“Jerk,” you murmur, head tipping back when his breath ghosts over your puffy folds, his fingers spreading you open.

“Think you like that about me,” Caleb mumbles, swallowing at the sight of your wet pussy, letting out a strained breath, “‘s pretty, baby. Really fucking pretty.”

You flush, pussy clenching when he licks over your clit, thighs twitching. Caleb’s fingers wrap around your thighs, placing them over his broad shoulders, his mouth opening wider. Tongue sliding through your folds, he laps at your cunt obscenely, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. 

He thinks he could die a happy man when you squeeze your thighs around his head, his mouth wrapping around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against the swollen bud. 

Caleb’s name spills out of your mouth repeatedly in a pleading chant, tears pricking at your eyes when he digs his fingers into your thighs roughly. It all feels so good, his mouth on you, the tight grip he has on as though you might just disappear out from under you if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

You blink down at him when Caleb pulls away to lick his lips, his mouth and chin glistening with your slick and his spit, his gaze heady. A whimper leaves you when he bites your inner thigh, over the marks Xavier left, his teeth imprinted into your skin as you surrender yourself to him.

Caleb decides it’s not enough, pressing a kiss to your clit before he’s moving you to flip onto your back, your scarf twisting with you.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he rasps, tapping your hips.

You do your best, face shoved into the pillows as you squirm up onto your knees, feeling slightly mortified when Caleb spreads you apart, his hands kneading at your asscheeks. 

“Don’t- don’t do that,” you whine, body jerking forward when Caleb runs his tongue through your folds unexpectedly.

“You’re shy now?” he laughs softly, biting into the fat of your ass playfully.

You ignore him, too busy moaning into the pillows when Caleb rubs your clit, his face pressing between your thighs, nose pressing up against your pussy. A sharp gasp leaves you, hips rocking back, trying to grind against the bridge of his nose while his tongue joins his fingers, lapping over your swollen clit.

“Caleb,” you mewl, hands gripping onto the railing of his headboard, the wool of your scarf rubbing against your wrists, “nghhh- ah- you’re so-”

“Charming?” he offers.

You let out a strangled laugh, squeaking when his hand comes down on your ass. He spanks you again, and you make a noise in protest, trying to crawl away, except you have nowhere to go, the scarf fastened enough to prevent you. It’s all too much when his tongue presses into your aching cunt, a cry escaping you as Caleb fucks his tongue in and out of you.

He squeezes your thigh harshly and your movements grow more desperate, trying to sway your hips back when his mouth latches onto you clit again, the press of his nose too much to handle. 

“Gonna cum?” Caleb asks, his voice a low growl, “huh, baby? Gonna cum on my fucking tongue?”

“Y- yes!” you squeal, your knees giving out under you when he shoves his tongue back into your cunt, fucking it in and out of you. “Oh fuck, Caleb- oh fuck!”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he growls, his fingers rubbing at your clit fast and with just enough pressure that you give a trembling cry of his name, slumping down against the sheets as your thighs twitch uncontrollably, panting raggedly to try and catch your breath, toes curling in delirium. 

Caleb loosens the scarf binding your wrists when he sees you struggling to move, his cock smearing pre-cum across your thighs and stomach as he turns you over, lips slotting over yours in a desperate kiss. 

He’s picking you up soon after, chasing after your lips when you pull away to catch your breath, capturing them again, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Caleb’s kisses are messy, spit leaking out from the sides of your mouth as he settles you onto his lap, his hands running up and down your sides soothingly.

“Can’t- can’t breathe,” you complain, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Caleb grumbles his displeasure under his breath before his eyes catch sight of your reddened wrists. Letting out a sigh, he grabs one of them, fingers running over your wrist gently, lifting it up to his lips to press soft kisses.

“You okay?” he murmurs, reaching for your other wrist, repeating his ministrations. “Was it too much?”

“No,” you say quietly, kissing his jaw, “it was good. I- I um- enjoyed it.”

Caleb smiles when you meet his eyes, his lips pressing up against the pads of your fingers. You smile back, feeling a little shy despite everything. He tucks your messy hair behind your ear, his touch skimming down your throat fleetingly.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he confesses, letting out a heavy breath, his head tipping back to rest against the headboard.

“I’m here,” you whisper, feeling unsure about what else to say, your fingers playing with his dog tags, bringing them up towards you to kiss the small, metal plates.

Caleb’s expression softens as he watches you, his heart thudding in his chest.

“I’m yours, Caleb,” you continue, kissing him sweetly. “See?”

You reach out, fingers sliding under his silver chain to lift it up over his head before you place it around his neck. The metal chimes softly, his dog tags settling between your breasts.

Caleb nearly cums at the sight. You know exactly how to rile him up, know exactly what to do to make him feel like a lovesick fool. He stares down at you, his adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows, fingers flexing against your hips.

You look so sweet, so soft, perched atop his lap delicately. He doesn’t know what to say when you peer up at him, feeling short of breath when you lean forward to kiss his cheek gently. Caleb’s fingers reach out to graze his dog tags, the cool metal grounding him at least for a moment.

“I hate how you make me feel,” he murmurs finally, hands smoothing over your sides, dragging you closer, groaning softly when your breasts squish up against his chest.

“Sorry?” you offer meekly, biting your lip when he squeezes the fat of your ass.

“Don’t be,” Caleb sighs, his forehead pressing against yours.

He kisses you gently, lips smacking against yours in the quiet of his bedroom. You rock your hips, pussy sliding over the length of his cock. Caleb grunts into your mouth, lifting you up, his hands grasping you under your thighs while you mewl, hand grasping his cock to line him up against your entrance.

“Caleb,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut when he sinks you down slowly onto his cock, nails scratching his pecs at the feeling of him stretching you out, his cock thick enough to have you feeling like you’re being split open.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, “doing so good for me. Taking my cock so well, yeah?”

You nod, still scrabbling at his chest, whining when he sinks you down onto the entire length of his cock, your pussy trying to accommodate his size. Caleb smiles against your cheek, kneading at your hips, muttering soft words of encouragement.

Your eyes meet his, hands sliding over his shoulders to let your arms wrap around his neck. Caleb leans back, resting against the headboard as you shuffle on his lap to get more comfortable, beginning to roll your hips.

“Good girl,” Caleb says hoarsely, “just like that, baby. Take your time.”

Spreading your legs to set a wider base, you rise up before dropping your hips back down, making Caleb groan when he feels you beginning to bounce on his cock, his eyes fluttering shut. You bite your lip at the sight, arms tightening around his neck, fucking yourself on his cock, gasping when you feel his cock twitch.

You think you might feel him in your stomach, his cock so fat and thick that it has your cunt clenching in quick succession in an attempt to readjust with every rise and fall of your hips. Caleb’s dog tags jingle with every bounce of you on his lap, his head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder, his teeth scraping across your shoulder.

“Wanna feel you fuck me full,” you mumble, nuzzling against his jaw, “please?”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, “you wanna be bred, sweetheart? Wanna have my baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod eagerly, sending him a drunken smile when he stares down at you.

Caleb’s fingers hook into the chain around your neck, tugging you closer until you’re moaning against his mouth, his darkened eyes watch the bounce and sway of your tits as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“Good fucking girl,” Caleb grunts, “ride my cock, sweetheart. Gonna fill you to the fucking brim.”

His words are obscene, his teeth biting at your lower lip, fingers pinching at your nipples until you’re writhing on his lap. You squeak when he wraps his hands around your waist, letting out a sharp gasp when he picks you up as though you weigh nothing and slams you down onto the length of his cock.

“C- Caleb! ‘s too much!” you wail, nails scratching down his back, unable to meet his eyes properly, not when he’s using you, taking you like you’re nothing but a ragdoll.

“No,” Caleb snaps, “it’s not too much; fucking take it.”

You squeal when he bites your breast, hands flailing for purchase, trying to grab out for something, anything, but it’s hard when he’s fucking you onto his cock like this, your hands landing on his shoulders briefly. The clank of his dog tags is drowned out by the sounds of his balls slapping against you, the lewd noises of his cock thrusting in and out of your clenching pussy.

“Do you like me?”

“Wh- what?” you manage out, lashes fluttering rapidly as you try to blink clearly. 

“Do you like me?” Caleb asks, his voice hoarse and raspy, enough to have you clenching around his cock. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. “Say yes,” he breathes out, pressing his chest more firmly against yours, as though trying to meld your bodies together. 

You feel lightheaded and short of breath when his fingers shift, pressing into your lower stomach. His voice turns into something softer, something more pleading. “Say yes, sweetheart.”

“Y- yes,” you hiccup, heart fluttering in your chest, “I- I like you Caleb.”

“Again,” he demands, nose brushing against yours, his lips hovering above yours.

“I like you,” you say breathlessly, kissing his jaw, “like you so much, Caleb. Wanna be bred, please- please cum inside.” You don’t exactly why you utter the next words, but you figure Caleb ought to be into that sort of thing, the power trip it gives him when he’s clinging to control. “Please, Colonel?”

“Oh my- fuck!” Caleb swears sharply, and you can feel his hips jerk, his grip on you faltering when you call him by his title. “You little minx- fucking crazy, you know that?”

“Sorry,” you whine, smiling against his mouth, pawing at his thick pecs, tongue licking over his lips. “‘m sorry, Colonel. Just- just wanna have your baby.”

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” Caleb groans loudly, fingers dimpling the flesh of your hips, “‘m gonna fill this pretty pussy up, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, feeling beyond fucked out, your head a swirl of Caleb, and Caleb only, unable to register anything other than the feeling of his cock snug inside your cunt, the cool metal of his dog tags against your skin, his mouth on yours.

“Ah-” Caleb whines, high and broken, the sound enough to make your back arch, nails digging into his chest.

He manages to fuck you on his cock a few more times, his hands pushing at your hips until your pussy hugs the entirety of his cock, your ass snug against his balls. Caleb moans into your ear, panting and whining as he cums, his cock twitching inside of you as hot spurts of cum spill out, filling you up.

You twitch atop him, the walls of your cunt fluttering around him, eyes squeezing shut as you feel your own orgasm wash over you.

Caleb clicks his tongue when you try to squirm off of him, rubbing his hands over your thighs when you complain about the ache settling in your muscles.

“Stay,” he whispers, kissing your temple, “gotta make sure it takes.”

A few minutes later, you curl up into his side when he lays you down gently, his hand rubbing over your side soothingly. Only the sounds of your breathing fill his room, Caleb’s fingers stroking across you gently. Your lips meet his when he lowers his head, sighing when he squeezes your thighs, massaging them gently.

“We don’t have to do it twice,” he whispers, “I was just- it was the heat of the moment.”

You stare at him, taking in the softness in his eyes, your head tilting to nuzzle into his palm when he strokes his thumb across your cheek. It’s against the rules, you remind yourself, and yet fifteen years… the number is enough to make your stomach flip.

“Did you mean it?” you ask quietly, your fingers tracing across his chest, over the ridges and dips of his muscles.

Caleb lets out a low sigh, his eyes fluttering shut. “Every word, sweetheart.”

There’s a long stretch of silence and Caleb presses his nose into your hair, his eyes opening when he hears the clink of metal. You give him a shy smile, leg swinging over his hip as you straddle him.

The man under you groans softly when you roll your hips, his eyes raptly watching the gentle sway of his dog tags between your breasts. The soft, sweet sentence that you utter next has Caleb closing his eyes in a silent prayer. You truly were going to drive him to madness.

“Better make up for lost time, Colonel.”

- 

Caleb has never seen you more disarmed than when you’re asleep.

He supposes it’s a bit creepy to stare at you while you’re sleeping, but he can’t help it, having been stirred awake by a cramp in his leg. His fingers ghost across the curve of your cheek, careful not to wake you, an uncomfortable ache piercing through his heart. 

If only he could keep you here with him.

But Caleb knows how stubborn you are, and he knows the rules of this little scheme that he agreed to, even if they are stupid and he’s already broken one of them. He stiffens when you stir, a smile pulling at his lips when drool slips out the side of your mouth, your body squirming as you roll over onto your back.

When he catches a glimpse of your marked neck, his irritation flares again, lips thinning. Caleb supposes he is driven by jealousy, there’s no point in denying it, not when the ugly head of envy rears his head and he finds his vision tinted with a hue of green that makes it difficult to think clearly.

His fingers are curling over your thigh gently, prying your legs apart carefully, his breath catching in his throat when he sees his cum smeared between your thighs and all over your pussy. Messy, he thinks, lowering his head to kiss your hip affectionately.

The flash of his phone camera isn’t bright enough to wake you up. Caleb stifles a groan at the picture, trying to will away the throb in his cock, his gaze entranced by the image of your messy pussy, covered and filled up with two loads of his cum. 

Just like how it should be, he thinks belatedly. Caleb would make it his lockscreen if it wasn’t so intimate. 

His fingers tap across his screen, finding Xavier’s number. There’s no need for unnecessary texts. The image is sent, Caleb’s lips pulling up into a sneer at the thought of the silver-haired man. 

Caleb tosses his phone onto his bedside table, wrapping his arms around, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead, humming softly as you curl up into his arms, snuggling closer as you seek out his warmth. The soft sounds of his clinking dog tags catch his attention.

Caleb decides he’ll need to get an extra one stamped. 

One with your name.

taglist >///<

@serenitymaria @kreishin @qyuin @wegottastayfocus @novthirty @syluslittlecrows @blorbohunter @luvleixo @crimsonmarabou @skylaryoung2002 @multisstuff @chirikoheina @supermissnkta @serenity-loves-red @shi-thats-kiera @froleineeeee @jaynawayna @schooki @minyoongi-pouts @mizienjoyer @isagistar @zaynesnowflake @athena-portgas @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @cutelittlesugarfairy @pookiei-bookie @dooopiee @rafshottestgf @thetimetravelernightmare @slytherin-min99 @envy-of-greed @paninisstuff @h0ngh0ngh0ng @nezuswritingdesk @teeheeheartless @flwerie @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @babyx91 @thisaintviolet69 @scoupsonlycherry @blubearxy @midiplier @young-adult-summer @daisys-mushroom-garden @sunsethw4 @lads-ficrecs @buffytheangelslayer @helios-eyre @browneyedgirl22 @straows @lennysnicket @actuallynarii

[the-bar-sinister]

Scope and pacing are not concrete and immutable. Not everything you write has to have the same level of detail, nor always be a 100k novel.

It's completely possible to tell the story of a romance that blooms over months or years in a 1000 words of short, snapshot scenes-- as long as you show the important scenes.

This is especially true in fanfiction where the set up is done for you, but can, in the right circumstances, be achieved in original fiction just as well.

Sometimes you don't need to write the whole novel. Sometimes you can just boil the story you want to tell down to its impactful, punchy essence. (and then it doesn't take a year to write.)

[halfblooddprincess]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ meeting the parents

draco malfoy x fem! reader fluff

synopsis: you’ve been dating draco for almost a year now, and you’re finally getting ready to meet his parents, when you receive an unexpected surprise

notes: no voldemort au, affectionate draco, established relationship, partial nudity, kissing, very fluffy, a little rushed but i was having so much fun with this idea !! honestly just wanted to write some fluffy ooc draco!! i’ll probably write some angstier draco sometime soon…

wc: 2.6k

Dinner with the Malfoys. For a long time, the suggestion of it had seemed like one of those niceties your boyfriend had been bringing up for the sake of maintaining interest. He hadn’t ever meant it, you’d always thought. Dinner was a step beyond whatever casual relationship the two of you had started up, all those months ago. Then again, the more thought you gave to it, the more you realised, it had been drifting beyond the realms of simply casual.

For starters, Draco had been a somewhat more attentive boyfriend than you’d thought he would be. He’d bought you flowers almost weekly since you began your relationship, beautiful ones, a bright batch of daffodils sparkling with pixie dust to welcome spring, a beautiful bunch of peonies in your favourite colour for your birthday, and even an incredibly rare flutterby bush in full bloom to celebrate the end of your exams. And that had just been the start of things, everywhere he went he was singing your praises with the ferocity of mersong, telling everyone who could hear, in a voice heavy with pride, that you were his girlfriend. It didn’t feel at all like a fling anymore, no mere highschool romance. You’d been together for almost a year, and once or twice, you’d even heard him say those fated words. I love you. Draco Malfoy, saying I love you? When you’d first met him, pompous and arrogant, pointed noise in the air and sneering at everything that moved, you’d had hardly thought it was possible.

He’d been saying that his parents would love you, too, since your first date, if it could really be called a date, for it had ended up being a slightly rainy walk around the school grounds, taking shelter under a deliciously grand oak tree when the drizzle had turned to a storm, telling you, in a voice peaked with the same fluttering enthusiastic and dreamy romantic sincerity that had fit such an occasion, just how wonderful Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy would think you were.

“I’ve written to father about you, of course.” He’d said, two months after the relationship had truly kicked off. “Him and mother are just dying to meet you.”

A similar sentiment had been repeated a week before the end of term, when Draco had suggested, exams now over, your head in his lap as you and a raucous crowd of his Slytherin friends lay lazily beneath the same oak you’d hidden under on that first date, “My parents would love to meet you, Y/N. They told me to invite you to the manor this Summer.”

Despite his surety that his parents would, in fact, like you, you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit anxious. Confident in your own adequacy as you so often were, you had no idea whether or not you’d be able to charm his family, one of the oldest and most well respected in Britain. You’d always been so confident, so self- assured, and Draco had been drawn to you for that very reason, but couldn’t help but feel nervous about whether or not you’d impress the Malfoys. Failure to enchant them would surely lead to the destruction of a relationship you’d begun to value more than you could even put into words. Not to mention, they did truly adore their son. A more doting and affectionate set of parents would have been hard to come by. You know, truthfully, that they’d want nothing but the absolute best for their beloved only child.

It was that encounter, however, that forced into stark focus the stark cognizance that there was absolutely no way to put off meeting the Malfoys forever, and that if it was to be a disaster, it would be far better to rip the bandaid off now, rather than allow the injury to fester. So despite your reasonable nerves, and lingering reservations, you agreed to spend an evening in Malfoy Manor, the illustrious Wiltshire estate of which Draco had recounted so many illuminating tales about. Draco had assured you, on the last day of term, when all the plans had been set in place, that he’d pick you up just before the sun set, and, you both having successfully passed your apparition test the year previous would apparate to his home, and he’d walk you up to the front door like the picture- perfect boyfriend he was turning out to be.

For as long as you spent waiting, you spent it in a deep state of overthinking, throwing a haberdash mixture of clothing from your wardrobe to the bed and eventually, when they dissatisfied you, to the floor with significant frustration. Choosing an agreeable outfit was turning out to be more of a challenge than even your hardest N.E.W.T papers. You’d given up on the knee- length purple velvet dress you’d worn to a birthday party last Easter holidays, and you’d stared in repulsion as one of your favourite dresses- a royal blue slip with a pattern of silvery stars around the hem- had turned out to be nowhere near as perfect as you remembered. With the possibility of choosing a perfect outfit now seeming completely dim, you’d resigned to silently finishing your makeup in the mirror across from your messily made bed, hopscotching your fabric- adorned floor with learned steps, deciding that, at least, makeup was not so much a complicated pastime.

Just as you’d finished applying the last of your eyeliner, a smooth black streak in a perfect flick across your lid, with the low buzz of music humming from the Wireless resting on your bedside table, you here a sudden crack loud as a whip from just behind you. It cuts through the steamy summer air like a blade, causing you to jump what feels like a mile out of your skin.

“Well don’t get all dressed up for me,” a teasing voice drawls, in reference to the sleek black underwear set you’d been lounging in as you completed your makeup.

“Draco!” You gasp, spinning around on your heel, reaching instinctively for the black robe you’d left hanging on the edge of your bed in a display of sudden modesty, “Doors exist for a reason! You could have knocked.”

“I was too excited, darling.” He says, in that same tone of teasing affection. You roll your eyes, quickly, at your boyfriend, who’s nudging a balled up dress with the edge of a black dragon- leather shoe, as he examines your room (of which he’s visited only once before) with mild fascination, clearly marvelling at the astonishing mess you’ve made. “I thought I told you I’d be here at dusk.”

“The sun hasn’t even started setting! You’re early, and I’m hardly ready! Can’t you just… wait outside?” You say, in a tone of slightly flustered agitation, wordlessly summoning the dress closest to him, and banishing it back to the wardrobe, before wrapping your robe around your shoulders, and slipping grumpily into its silky depths.

“But the view is so much better in here,” he pouts, sardonically, settling down on your bed, head thrown back in a familiar swan- like languidity. You’d appreciate his careless teasing and effortless charm on any other occasion, but when you’ve got parents to impress and nothing more than a pair of lacy underwear covering your body, you fail to find his humour as appealing as it ordinarily would be.

“The view is fine enough in the corridor. And you’re-“ you point your wand in a somewhat accusatory way at him, “Sat on my shirt.”

He pulls a face of mild surprise, withdrawing a crumpled black satin shirt from beneath him. He examines the garment, holding it up in one hand. “You’re not wearing that, are you?” He laughs. It’s the same shirt you wore to a distant family member's funeral, a slightly old fashioned acquisition that hardly shows you off to your best, all dull cotton and charmless ruffles, awfully ill- fitting and somber in shape. You should have discarded it months ago, wearing it would be almost a death sentence to any reputation of fashionability you might have wielded. Nonetheless, you don’t appreciate his mockery, despite the validity behind the words and you can feel heat rising through your cheeks.

“I don’t know what I’m wearing!” You reply, in an exasperated tone, snatching the shirt from him, and banishing that, too, to your wardrobe, now a horrible mess of lazily scrunched up fabrics in a variety of your favourite dark jewel tones. You reach for the same midnight coloured slip you’d discarded before, planning on tossing it on the rest of the heap, feeling rather overwhelmed by the mess you’ve created. There’s no way you’d be able to find anything in the disorder. Draco waves his own wand, in response to your sudden move to tidy, and the heaped clothes fold neatly into a pile for you to deal with at your own leisure.

He responds, then, in a measured voice, “You’d look beautiful in anything, Y/N. You even look beautiful now, though I much preferred your outfit when I arrived.” He smirks, jovially, and you crack a small smile in response, rolling your eyes. With the clothes out of the way, and Draco’s charmingly derisive compliments to temper your feeling of stress, appreciating his teasing feels ever so slightly easier, and focusing on anything other than your own frustration and anxiety becomes suddenly facile.

You notice, for the first time since his arrival, just how handsome he’s looking. His silver- blonde hair glows golden in the dying sunlight that spills through your window like molten honey, and he’s dressed in a handsome dark green shirt and black suit pants, patterned with slightly silver pinstripes. The sight of him, sitting there, looking so effortlessly perfect, quells you almost completely. Sighing, you take a seat on your bed, at his side, resting your head on his chest, listening to the slow thud of his heart in an attempt to calm your own.

“I just… want your parents to like me.” You sigh, speaking aloud the fear that has been gnawing ferociously at your inside. There’s no getting around it. Admitting it, at the very least, means you’ve acknowledged it. It’s in the open, rather than bottled up so tightly that it might as well have suffocated you.

Draco shifts, in clear surprise, nudging you upwards with a hand placed determinedly on your arm, staring firmly into your eyes with his own, moonlight- grey irises. “Is that what all of this is about?” He asks, jaw tightening ever so slightly, brow furrowing.

“Of course it is!” You respond, shaking your head, as you slowly pull back, in an attempt to continue your desperate hunt for an appropriate dress.

“And of course they’re going to like you!” Draco responds, laughing in bemused surprise. “My parents won’t let me invite just anyone into our house, Y/N. You don’t need to worry.” With that, he rises, too, walking over to the wardrobe behind you. He stands there, momentarily, head resting atop your own, as his eyes scan the mess that is your wardrobe, before pointing his wand at a glinting corner of green fabric, shimmering delicately, behind the carelessly thrown pile of clothes within. It wriggles slightly, squirming out of the suffocating knots of tangled fabric before extrapolating itself from the wardrobe, hovering in front of you both, shiny green and sleek as a serpent in the golden- hour haze of the room.

You’d forgotten about that dress, a deep pine- needle green fabric, knee length and adorned with tiny glass beads at the neckline. It’s the same one you’d worn to that ridiculous Slug Club Christmas dinner party, where you and Malfoy had first noticed each other as more than simply classmates or distant friends. Where, he’d told you, he’d first fallen in love with you. How had you forgotten about that dress?

“Why don’t you wear this one?” Draco asks, and you can hear the reminiscent smile in his voice as you turn to face him. You take the dress from where he’s levitating it, holding it up to yourself, a hand running over the delicate fabric, feeling its smooth, silky composition beneath your fingertips. The shimmering fabric still smells faintly of your favourite perfume, an oddly comforting odour, you notice, as the smell takes you back to the night in the dungeon office, where Draco had told you how nice you looked.

“You remembered it?” You say, with a sparkly laugh.

“It’d be hard not to.” He responds, airily, as you take the dress to the mirror, examining the way it looks in front of you, just as it had all those many moons ago, bringing out the colour of your eyes and the shade of your hair. “You made everyone else at that stupid party look like trolls.”

“I thought it was goblins.”

“Those too.” Draco laughs, and spurred on by the encouragement, you drop your dressing gown, allowing it to fall to your ankles in a rippling heap of dark silk. Quiet effortlessly, you slip into the dress as if it's a second skin, and stand, your back facing Draco, as you ask, “Zip me up?”

He complies wordlessly, as you feel a steady hand rest gently on the small of your back, the other brushing the bare skin where the zip remains open. There’s a quiet buzz of zip teeth interlocking, before the pressure on the base of your back subsides, leaving a lingering feeling of sparks shooting up and down your back. His affections, his touch, never quite grow old. You couldn’t give it up for the world. The terrifying thought of having to forces you back to reality.

There’s a momentary pause, before, in an uncharacteristically mouse- like voice, you say, “You’re sure your parents will like me? I mean… if they don’t… well. They have to, don’t they?” You try to laugh off the question casually, as if its inconsequential, as if its answer isn’t horrifyingly cataclysmic.

“But they will.” Draco replies, careful hands spinning you in place, so that he can stare down at you, steely firmness in his grey eyes, no sign of humour of levity remaining in them. “It’d be impossible not to.” His voice has lowered into a faint whisper, and he leans down to place a feather light kiss on your lips, warm as the sunlight that’s enveloped you for the entirety of your meeting. You feel the nerves ebbing away from you in billowing waves, and for the moment it lasts, you’re filled with an incandescent bliss that fills you from head to toe.

When he pulls away, you notice a glimmer of your lip gloss sparkling on his own lips. You giggle, despite yourself, despite all your nerves at the sight of your shimmering imprint on his otherwise perfect visage. As he steadies you in place, smiling back, you gaze up into the eyes of a boyfriend who you are appreciating anew.

The sun has just begun to set outside, in shades of indigo and sapphire, and you can’t help but want for time in this room to stand still, as you reach up to wipe away the smudge of pink gloss from your boyfriend's lips and say, smiling, “You should break into my bedroom more often. Who knew you were so good at giving out advice?”

“What can I say?” Draco laughs, pulling away, “I’m a man of many talents.”

“That you are.” You ready to go, then?”

He takes your hand, and you steel yourself for the evening of a lifetime, knowing that Draco will stay by your side.

[kpopfanfictrash]

In Bloom Collaboration

Pass the end of winter's cold // until the spring day comes again. This April, join us for seven (loosely) spring-themed stories from @kpopfanfictrash, @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @syllviere, @leahsfavefics, @suga-kookiemonster, and @cybrsan.

Spring symbolizes hope for renewal, new growth and change, and the anticipation of good things ahead. With the return of BTS on the horizon, enjoy these stories centered on romance and possibility.

Content Creator: @kithtaehyung for creation of all these wonderful banners!

[ Links will be added to this post as stories as published ]

Title: Clichés and Canapés

Author: @kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); smut; best friends to lovers; fake dating; billionaire au

Summary: After twenty years of friendship, you’d think you were used to Seokjin’s proposals by now. In the past he’s forced you to participate in skydiving, skinny dipping, and even staging a rescue from the local shelter. Seokjin has always had big ideas but this time, even he may have gone too far. Granted, break-ups are stressful, and Seokjin’s latest one up was bad. Really bad. As in, they-ended-things-in-December-and-now-she’s-dating-his-brother bad.

It almost makes sense then, when Seokjin asks you to come home with him for his parents' party. Almost makes sense when he says his family assumed you were dating, and he didn't correct them. What doesn’t make sense is the longer you fake things, the more you find yourself wondering if this was real all along.

Posted: April 20

Title: Satsuma

Author: @kithtaehyung

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: m (18+); angst, smut; iron chef au, rivals to lovers

Summary: this particular culinary prodigy has always bested you—time, and time, and time again. but not today. today? you will break him. you will finally beat min yoongi—the bane of your existence and the youngest ever iron chef.

Posting Date: TBD

Title: Sunset Glow

Author: @yoonia

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); past lovers!au; lawyer!Hoseok, artist!reader; New Beginning; inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (yes, the movie)

Summary: As you accidentally stumble upon a reminder of the past that you have been slowly walking away from, you finally get to see Hoseok losing his resolve for the first time. It is now your turn to become his rock, and help remind him the reason why he has always been yours.

Posting Date: May 23

Title: Sealed With a Kiss

Author: @syllviere

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); Cardiac Surgeon Namjoon x Demon Reader; Fake Fiancé; Strangers to Lovers; Smut; Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance; Not Christian hell

Summary: When Namjoon offered you one quick favor for another, he should’ve known something was wrong the moment you kissed him instead of shaking his hand to agree. He might’ve known when dark shadows seemed to start following him around every corner. And he definitely knew the night you dragged him to hell and not-so-kindly reminded him that he owed you.

He’d never been very good at negotiating.

Posting Date: TBD

Title: Mr. Park is an Asshole

Author: @leahsfavefics

Pairing: Jimin x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); reverse tropes: nice guy who only hates you; academic rivals, but it's two teachers competing to have the best class

Summary: Ever since you joined the team as Darling Elementary's new art teacher, you've been welcomed with open arms. By everyone except Mr. Park, the music teacher. Jimin seems to be the school's golden child, beloved by all (except you), and the organizer of the school's most popular event, the annual Spring Recital. When the school's poor budget planning requires Jimin to enlist your help on the recital, you wonder how you're going to manage working with your sworn enemy.

Posted: April 27

Title: Lost and Found

Author: @suga-kookiemonster

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M; smut; strangers to lovers; resort!au

Summary: to give yourself credit, you’ve put up a great fight. but the inevitable has finally happened—after pushing yourself to your very limits, you’re forced to concede when an overwhelming meltdown stops you in your tracks. concerned, your mother insists you utilize her aunt’s timeshare to get some much needed R&R. you’re not quite sure how your life has spiraled to the depths it has, but you figure if you’re already in hell, you might as well enjoy the flames with cocktails in-hand.

enter taehyung—the timeshare’s absurdly hot pool bartender. tae is chill, carefree, and wholly unbothered about having no life plans beyond flirting with old ladies for tips. a planner to a fault, you simply can’t fathom how someone could flit though life without direction. but in the midst of piecing yourself back together, it gradually starts to dawn on you that the two of you might not be that different after all.

Posting Date: TBD

Title: Timezone

Author: @cybrsan

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); smut; idol!jk + non-celeb reader; inspired by the Måneskin song, Timezone

Summary: Concerts. Fansigns. Interviews. Jungkook's schedule has been so jam-packed lately that he barely has time to breathe. After a particularly rough day, he struggles to fall asleep because you aren't beside him, and suddenly he doesn't care about his responsibilities or the fact that there are 7,000 miles separating you. He needs to see you, consequences be damned, because you're the only thing that truly matters.

Posting Date: TBD