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versadies · 2 years

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men of the harem | genshin men x gn!reader

✧༺♥༻∞ YOU HAVE RECEIVED A LETTER, LET’S SEE WHAT’S INSIDE ! ∞༺♥༻✧

salutations. @stellumi’s genshintoon collab event !

addressed. diluc, kaeya, tartaglia, thoma, arataki itto, kaedehara kazuha, albedo, scaramouche, xiao, and zhongli (w/ gn!reader)

content. harem, mentions of violence, mentions of cheating (not by reader), fluff/angst, unrequited love, misunderstandings, mild swearing, spoilers to scaramouche's real name, mentions of evil spirits, cameo of subject two of albedo, emperor!reader, royal!au, slightly suggestive but not enough for me to put a mdni, ooc (?)

words. 10k words

sypnosis. after being scorned by your lover and thrown into power after the mysterious assassination of your father, the emperor, you must marry a person to stabilize your empire. much to everyone’s shock, instead of choosing one person to become your royal consort, you decided to choose 8 young men to join your harem. however, it seems there’s more than just revenge on your past lover who betrayed you.

penpals: @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @hoshikistarlight @shenhesl0ver (visit my taglist info if you're interested to join !)

post-script. this is based on webtoon’s men of the harem manhwa and please consider that most scenarios in this fic did not happen in the manhwa. enjoy ! (i deeply apologize for posting this late vera)

masterlist | requests info | remarried empress au

“i’m sure you’re all aware of why you’ve been summoned,” you spoke, your voice echoing through the halls of your throne room. “i would like to talk about matters regarding appointing a royal consort, and yes i agree with you all that it’d help in stabilizing the empire.”

you leaned back to your throne, lips twitching upward. ”that’s why… i’ll be taking a few consorts.”

the nobles of the court instantly gasps, whispering to one another about your decision as a certain duke‘s mouth was open agape.

despite the reactions, you continued speaking. “i think six would be a good number, don’t you think?”

the certain duke suddenly steps forward, still in disbelief with your decision. “but your imperial highness, this is… madness! past rulers who have been thrown to power like you would usually choose at least one – don’t you think that choosing so much will be too much for the empire to process?” the duke protests.

“aren’t you the one who suggested to my father to take more than one consorts to promote diplomacy and to keep the empress in check?“ you asked with furrowed eyebrows. “besides, i’m not the only ruler who decided to take more than one consorts. are we going to forget my ancestors‘ amount of consorts?”

you watched as the nobles mumbled to one another in agreement while the duke stays silent in hesitation, eyeing your right-hand knight who tries not to smile in amusement from the situation.

“do not be so glum about this,” you spoke. “don’t you think this would be a perfect opportunity for some of you to have the emperor as your in-law?”

just you wait, you thought, hands slightly clenching into fists at the thought of a certain emperor as you watch the nobles instantly change their minds and all agree to your decision (except a certain duke it seems).

it’s my turn to make you feel the same agony that i felt when you left me for another, ragnvindr.

DILUC

the man who scorned you, the very reason why you gave up on love. you could never forget the moment when he told you that the reason why he hasn’t returned to your kingdom after so many years to fulfill his promise is because he was actually with a woman who’ll become his wife in a few days, causing you countless number of nights that left you sleepless, thinking why you weren’t good enough for your first love.

you could recall the days when you two were hopelessly in love and never got separated — it was evident that the both of you would end up getting together. you had never thought of what life is like without the love of your life, and he can say the same thing as he holds you in his arms in a protective but caring grip.

you could recall the days when he’d whisper nothing in your ear as he talks about how he’s looking forward to the both of you getting married as soon as the both of you have come of age together, causing you to feel your cheeks warming from those words alone.

was everything… a lie?

you didn’t give a second thought when diluc informed you that he has to leave the palace because of his father’s condition, immediately telling him to come to his father and come back once the emperor is alright. if you held him back from visiting, would things have gone differently? would diluc still be by your side and not by a stranger’s side?

you could never guess that you’d find yourself standing in front of his palace to attend a wedding that isn’t yours.

he was with you since childhood, so what changed? turns out, he was only marrying the woman because it was his father’s last wish before his passing. he even had the audacity to ask you to wait for an unknown amount of years until he files a divorce, then that will be the day when he’ll come back to you, which didn’t make anything better, not when he looks at her as if she’s the universe while he looks at you as if you’re the moon.

as for the woman – goodness, the woman – even invited you to their wedding, oblivious to the fact that the new emperor of the infamous empire was her fiance’s lover who he promised to return to marry once he’s done visiting his ill-father, the emperor of a neighboring empire. you couldn’t bring yourself to despise her because of how genuinely nice she is. you don’t blame the passed emperor for choosing her as diluc’s wife.

you thought diluc was your forever, did he not think the same as well? or were all those words of love that came out from his lips were lies? what did she have that you don’t?

you swore to yourself to never love again, ignoring the way he glances at your way when you don’t look at him. you still look the same as always, he’d thought. beautiful and strong.

you ignore how some of the staff has been talking about how they had never seen their emperor being this expressive when you visited the palace, not knowing that the diluc you knew is far from how everyone in his homeland sees him.

you ignore how diluc confesses about being worried about your safety during your battle against the man who tries to take your throne, too focused on your heartbreak to even process the rest of his words after his confession about being with another.

you ignore how he sends you letters everyday when he has the chance ever since the wedding, throwing said letters aside among the piled up unnecessary documents, not knowing how he puts his heart and soul to those letters you despised seeing.

you ignore how his eyes were on you from his window when you walked away from his palace the day after the wedding as he ignores his heart screaming at him to run after you and tell you that he wants to abandon his empire for you.

but he couldn’t. not when his brain whispers how it’s his fault that he was too late for his father to die alone and how he doesn’t deserve to be with you. that’s why he drowns himself with guilt, not noticing how his most trusted royal advisor told him that his father’s dying wish is for his son to marry the daughter of the grand duke of favonius, not knowing how it was just a trick.

that’s why diluc has to suffer knowing that his step-brother, kaeya, gets to be with you while he can't.

KAEYA

the first person who joined your harem. his name was the first thing that caught your eye when you were reading documents about your potential consorts, and you did not hesitate to add him on the list much to your right-hand’s dismay. you may not know him much since diluc refuses to let you meet him, but that doesn’t stop you from inviting him.

you honestly never expected him to be so… flirty and witty, unlike his brother who’s more shy and calm.

not to mention the fact that you felt like you’ve seen him before — and it surely isn’t in diluc’s wedding — giving you all the more reasons why he’s so mysterious. despite not recalling any moments of meeting kaeya, the only thing you felt from him is familiarity and... comfort, leaving you conflicted and wondering where on earth you met him.

unfortunately you were against finding out, because you’re completely convinced that he’s just here as diluc’s spy due to the constant letters kaeya sends to someone who’s from his home.

it didn’t help that there were certain incidents between your consorts that always manages to have kaeya involved - and he never fails to plead that he’s innocent despite the other consort suggesting otherwise, giving you all the more reasons to doubt him and refrain yourself from spending more time on him while never noticing the mischief laced in the other consort’s eyes that kaeya spots.

you never noticed how he looks at you as though you’re the only thing that matters in this world.

you never noticed how he hopes - and even prays - that you’d look at him among the crowded room and pay attention to him and only him, just like the night during his brother’s horrible reception where you sobbed about how much you love him, your breath reeking of alcohol. yet, it didn’t stop him from feeling like his stomach sprouted butterflies and finally felt like he mattered to someone. ignoring how a part of his head is telling him that you’re just talking about his stupid brother.

you never noticed how he instantly stopped seeing other people for romantic purposes after he met you, instead of sleeping next to someone he’ll eventually forget in the morning, he’s all alone on his bed thinking about you with a smile on his face. who knew the emperor from a neighboring empire would be so cute when drunk?

you never noticed how he wonders everyday when you’ll visit his chambers at night or simply just spend time with him, rambling to his servant about the things he’d be interested in doing with you as he plays with a plushie that he bought in a store of your empire because it reminded him of you.

you never noticed how he stares in jealousy at the stupid consort who’s dancing with you on your first banquet that he arranged, wishing that he’s the consort that’s dancing with you and making every other consorts seething in jealousy.

you never noticed how he’s the one who made the talisman when he gave it to you when you first visited his chambers for a nice chat, excitement rushing through his body that he hides with his charismatic facade that he always puts around you.

you never noticed how he sends letters to a certain prince from another kingdom every single day writing about the things you do that made him go crazy and ask about his advice that could help him win you over out of the other consorts that's blocking his way.

but you did notice, in the end.

it was during the first time you took a stroll with kaeya as a make up for not choosing him to dance with you on the banquet when you heard something that never came out from his lips but instead in your head,

as if you can read minds.

“please don’t leave me again..”

TARTAGLIA

the son of the same duke who tried to protest against your decision to have more than one consort and the second person that you chose to become your consort besides kaeya, much to the duke’s relief.

unlike his father, tartaglia prefers violence over reasoning, something you took note of after overhearing a conversation between him and his servant about how he‘d like to fight the other consorts to “see if they’re worthy to be considered as your consort.” despite his bloodlust, his charismatic personality and loyalty makes it up, something that’ll definitely be useful in the near future for you.

he’s also the first consort that you spent the night after the arrival, much to his delight. it’s safe to say that he felt incredibly disappointed when you said you‘re only here to sleep next to him instead of what he assumed, but he respected your wishes – besides, at least he gets to watch you fall into slumber. who knew the emperor would sleep so cutely?

because of this, every single consort is jealous of tartaglia.

who wouldn’t be? he’s the only consort so far who got to spend your first dance and first night, and he never fails to rub that on his peers’ faces with every chance he gets.

unfortunately, your right hand knight would beg to differ and agree that tartaglia’s on the same page as everyone, since you’re unaware of how the son of the duke always walks past your office, asking the guards stationed if you’re available.

you’re unaware of how he looks at you as if you’re the rest of his life.

you’re unaware of how dull blue eyes stare at your figure as you spar with your right-hand knight, wishing that he’s in his place instead. would you praise his skills in fighting if he was the one you’re sparring with?

you’re unaware of how his memories of what you did for him during his childhood and wanting to see his family again were the only things that kept him fighting for his life when he was trapped in a dark place called the abyss. would you believe him if he told you that he still remembers the time when you told him that you'll gladly marry him when you're older?

you’re unaware of how he thinks of you whenever he sneaks out from the palace, having fun with many commoners around him and watching multiple performances of your empire who all turn a blind eye to the fact that a consort is around. would you be as happy as him if he sneaks you out from your emperor duties and spends time with him and your people?

you're unaware of how he purposely flirts with you and is physically affectionate to you just to fire up a certain knight, whose amber eyes gazes at the consort with jealousy and anger. would the knight be angrier if he were to see you pulling him closer and perhaps place a kiss on his face?

you’re unaware of a side you never got to see from him that only his tortured victims get to see. the screams and begging from those pesky nobles who dared to question your ability as an emperor made him even more alive, yet it never washed away the anger that he felt when his secret agent informed him about how there are some nobles who are on your dead step-brother’s side and are against on you being the emperor. shouldn’t they be grateful that you’re so merciful to let them live?

you’re unaware of how a light shone in his eyes for just a moment when you finally have time to spend with him after so many weeks of walking past your office and asking the guards.

he was so enraptured by your potential skills that he didn't know that his strong desire had reached your thoughts because of his excitement just like what happened with kaeya.

you immediately brought out your sword, and childe could just imagine how thrilling it would be to finally see your strength.

“please tell me you’ll let me fight by your side.”

THOMA

the sweetheart that you dearly care for.

now that you think about it, he’s the only consort you can think of when it comes to being well-behaved around other consorts and loved by many of your servants in the palace, not because of his kindness but also because of his amazing socializing skills. it's scary how he absolutely has nothing wrong and is the perfect royal consort for you.

though, it does seem strange that he’s sometimes around when some of your consorts are causing a scene,

you don’t pay attention to how his eyes look at you as if you’re his guilty pleasure.

you don't pay attention to how a strange crow flies past your window and the guards patrolling around the castle grounds as it heads towards thoma's window, carrying a small letter with its claws that contains the one thing that will make you change your view on the so-called perfect consort. he stares down at the letter that's written by the one person he swore loyalty for eternity: kamisato ayato, the famed prince who was considered your brother. thoma tries to think of a way to convince him that in due time he'll finally make progress in coming closer to you, knowing full well that he couldn’t bring himself to do the one thing that made him come here in the first place.

you don't pay attention to how his hobby of cleaning was just to spend time thinking of his plan to kill you and let his master take over the throne just as he and his mother had always wanted. if he could do that to your father, then he can do it to you as well, right?

no, he can't. unlike your father, you're.. different. unlike the people who died from his hands, you're someone he can't bring to kill without mercy, not when you remind him of his homeland that he'll never get to visit in this lifetime.

you don't pay attention to how his fists clenched when he sees you spend so much time with that knight, who's not even a consort like him and other men who compete for your attention and love, or when he spots you walking towards another consort's room instead of his. why can't he be the one you visit? why is it always the problematic ones you go to and not him, the perfect man you can choose?

you don't pay attention to how he deals with people in the palace who are also a part of the organization and tried to kill you with merciless tortures, making sure that not a single person gets away from trying to lay their dirty hands on you. he convinces himself that this was just their punishments for failing their lord's orders, but he knows the truth deep inside.

you don't pay attention to the number of times he tried to murder you, only for his guilt and heart to stop him from doing so. if only he hadn't grown attached, then maybe he could've been back to his lord’s hidden sanctuary and get ready to help him take over your throne.

you don’t pay attention at all, and it pains him so. if you knew, you could end his misery and he can pay for the sins he had committed all in the name of ayato, the man he swore loyalty to when he was but a helpless foreigner in a foreign place.

you did pay attention by the end of the day.

it was bad timing really, thoma just happens to be finished dealing with yet another subordinate in anger after finding out that they somehow invaded your bedroom to try and kill you in your sleep, not knowing that you happen to be passing by his chambers until your mind has suddenly been flooded by so.. so many dark thoughts.

“that fool should’ve known when to keep his dirty hands from them if he didn’t want to be punished by me. it’s me who should kill them.”

“which death would be quicker, i wonder? poisoning their food won’t do the trick, especially if i end up being the suspect – unless i blame one of those consorts?”

“perhaps lord ayato would let me go to my homeland if i manage to kill the emperor.. then their death would be worth it at least.”

chills ran down your spine when hearing thoma’s thoughts, not expecting him of all people to be one of your traitors in the palace. thanks to him though… at least you now know that your step-brother is alive.

you frown deeply in thought, debating whether or not you should take thoma to the dungeons and let your knight investigate. but then again, he’ll probably curse himself the way your past prisoners did when you investigated about your step-brother being alive or not.

it’s better to just let his anger get the better of him and you can just listen to his thoughts while he’s at it. you thought to yourself, before you return to your bed chambers to start your new plan and not notice a certain man peeking out from his chambers, watching your every move like a hawk.

ARATAKI ITTO

the king of mercenaries.. and one of the only people who can make you laugh.

people are more than shocked when they find out that you have chosen itto as one of your consorts, especially since he’s viewed as the scariest person and most dangerous in the kingdom. it shocked them even more when some would hear you laughing when you’re spotted walking around the palace with him by your side.

at first, you were truthfully wary of how the man is like as your consort, until he talks to you – which you’re surprised of because of how he speaks so casually (much to your knight’s irritation since itto’s talking to an emperor).

it’s safe to say that he’s perhaps one of the only consorts you mostly talk to since you always come across to him. now that you think about it, it does feel a bit.. more than coincidences from the amount of times you encountered the mercenary, but his excuses are pretty much valid, giving you no reason to suspect him yet.

sure, he’s reckless in his own ways, but the way he acts like a gentleman and positiveness makes it up a lot, which everyone doesn’t see. it’s endearing, honestly, to see him come over to you and try his best to make you happy and comfortable with your surroundings.

whenever you talk to the mercenary king, you feel like a normal person with no high status, mainly because of how he treats you as though you’re both best friends and not an emperor he should be polite to. not only did he introduce you to the delicious meal of what people call ramen, but he also introduced you to many entertainments besides opera and jesters, particularly.. his singing and child-games.

his singing may not be as strong as that of an opera singer like yunjin, but it managed to make you amused and have the urge to laugh, causing your knight’s jaws to drop in surprise (surely your humor isn’t that as broken as he anticipated?!). playing games with itto made you feel like a kid despite only playing one or two rounds because of your busy schedule.

nevertheless, he truly does make your worries and stress over your empire and ayato’s situation go away by just talking to him despite his recklessness.

you fail to recognize the way he looks at you as if you’re his favorite book. every time he spends time with you, the more invested he is in getting to know you and love you even more. he makes sure that you always have a smile plastered on your face whenever you’re with him, because it’s what he feels whenever he sees you.

you fail to recognize the fact that he memorized your whole schedule (after forcing his servant to figure it out and write it down) so that he can “coincidentally” bump into you with perfect excuses just because he wants to hang out with you. oh, if only those losers who call themselves your consorts knew how he’s smarter than they think~

you fail to recognize how his eyes would brighten when he opens his doors and sees you walking around the consort halls thinking that you’re on your way to him, only for his face to fall when you stopped by thoma’s room and waited. no books could ever describe how furious he was when thoma didn’t open the door, watching as you rushedly left from the consort halls. just how ungrateful is that blondie for him to not answer the door and let you in?!

imagine his shock when he sees you entering a newbie’s room and never came out until in the morning. does this mean you’ve already slept beside two of your consorts out of eight!? will he be next, he wonders..

you fail to recognize how he often thinks about you and gets pouty each night whenever you don't visit his chambers. his servant is honestly on the verge to try and convince you to come visit the mercenary king, who’s obviously head over heels for you. thankfully, the man managed to reassure his servant that he’s alright, saying how good comes to those who wait.

you fail to recognize how he worked hard on his appearance despite his first time dressing in such formal attire for your first ever royal banquet after your crowning ceremony. his face once again fell when you chose that ginger haired noble to be your dance partner and paid attention to that weird blonde-haired man who's dancing like an idiot – not to mention the audacity the man has for doing a heart shape with his hands towards you! you can guarantee that itto’s the greatest dancer!

unknownst to itto however, you did eventually recognize it.

it was the day after the banquet was over when itto received a visitor, who is none other than you much to his delight! turns out, his servant had lied to you that the mercenary king fell ill and you just had to come over to check if he’s alright, causing the white haired man’s face to turn red and flustered.

you honestly didn’t believe that itto’s actually sick, given that his temperature is normal and isn’t even lying on his bed, but his voice that suddenly appeared in your head made you refrain yourself from taking your leave.

“...you finally visited me after so long..”

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

a skillful poet whose noble name has long faded away and forgotten – except for you, it seems.

it’s safe to say that kazuha was taken back by surprise when he received a letter from the royal palace, eyes widened when it turned out to be an invitation to become one of your very own consorts.

he wonders why on earth someone, let alone an emperor such as you, would even pay attention to him. as well as how you managed to find him just for him to receive your letter despite his great skills in hiding.

although he seeks no luxury, you’re quite an interesting person, he’ll admit that.

hence why he finds himself standing across from you in the palace gardens that he managed to sneak in, the grin plastered on your face says it all: you expected his arrival. it’s concerning how you know him so well, yet he couldn’t help but stay.

he suddenly became more interested the moment a certain name came out from your lips.

tomo. his dearest companion that he felt a connection with back then when he was in his homeland, eien.

“he told me a lot about you in his letters,” you said, giving him a sad smile. “i only invited you to become my consort since it’s the only way for you to come to the palace without anyone being against it. of course, it’s up to you whether or not you’d like to stay here. i should mention that you’ll also be safe from the raiden shogun’s wrath and my guards.”

before he could open his mouth to refuse, you immediately gestured around the garden. “i’ve also heard from tomo that you prefer outdoors than indoors, so the best thing i can do is to offer you full access to my gardens. i can request one of my staff to give you a map since it’s quite a large space.” you added.

kazuha could tell. if it weren’t for the winds and his smell, he would’ve gotten lost when he sneaked in.

“so, what do you say?”

…he supposed it won’t hurt to accept it, right?

not long after that, he accepted your invitation in the end.

you’d like to admit, it was difficult to get along with the man at first. he’s often quiet and isn’t found at his chambers (much to his assigned servant’s panic), which you weren’t surprised about. as time flew by however, you’re glad that the man has started to warm up to you and started talking more, particularly by reciting his poems that he made.

whenever you managed to find him by the gardens, it was always quiet – just the sounds of the calming wind and knights training in the arena nearby whilst never hearing the loud heartbeats of the samurai when he realized you were close.

you never saw how his eyes stared at yours, as if you’re a dream he never wanted to forget. he wasn’t familiar with the feelings he found growing every time you came to visit him in the gardens, but he knew all too well from poems and stories what it is. if he ignores it, will he eventually forget about it? if he acts upon it, will the feeling stay and be remembered?

you never saw how his ears turn red when you lean on his shoulder as you slumber, exhausted from your duties and how soft his voice was when reciting yet another poem. if possible, he would’ve stayed still in his position for a long time for as long as you desire to sleep. plus, you smell.. quite pleasant, really.

you never saw how kazuha actually starts getting into noble manners that he learned when he was still a noble in hopes of gaining favor from your peers in the palace during the banquet, giving him chances in being the most favored out of all your consorts (who aren’t exactly aware of who kazuha is since he’s always outside and away from people).

you never saw how his hand held a luxurious box that keeps a stunning brooch that he bought from a nearby jewelry shop during his escapades at night, thinking it’d suit you well (especially since it has his color). he was eager to give it to you before the banquet ends, or maybe when you chose him as your first partner for your first dance, until he finds himself standing in the background watching you choose tartaglia as your dance partner, shoulders slumped when you decided to take your leave from the banquet not long after.

it took a few weeks before you did receive his gift, letting him put it on top of your attire as his ears turn pink, not noticing how you’re paying attention to his thoughts that have finally come to your head.

“you look even more breathtaking with my color.”

ALBEDO

the great sage who’s somehow entangled himself with your harem.

when you first discovered that one of your hostages has killed himself with a curse, you immediately called for the head priest of your empire’s holy temple alongside your dearest friend chongyun, who both confessed that exorcism won’t do a trick, given that the curse is what they call a “dark magic” curse, which is an assumedly extinct supernatural act that hasn’t occurred for years.

much to your relief, they both recommended you to the great sage, who may be able to help you on your investigations against the current threat of both you and your empire. hence why you decided to throw a royal banquet as a way to invite the great sage and discuss matters with him.

you had never expected the great sage to look so hot.

you were taken back by surprise when he removed his hood, giving you a charming-like smile as he thanked you for saving him from the sudden ambush that had occurred, paying no mind to your reaction to his face.

everything was pretty much a blur, but the conversation ended with albedo offering you a deal that’ll ensure both his safety and your desired information, leaving you no choice but to accept it gladly.

you never anticipated to see the great sage dancing in the middle of the dance floor, catching every single guests’ attention including your consorts by his strange… dance moves, causing your jaws to drop at the embarrassing sight.

it didn’t help that he looked in your direction and made a heart shape with his hands before giving you a wink, causing you to cover your face and prevent yourself from seeing such a performance. you told him that he should do something to catch your attention at the banquet — but not this way! why on earth did he have to do this and embarrass both him and yourself?!

you tried to ignore everyone’s shocked reactions as you walk towards the great sage and offer him an invitation to your harem for giving you such an amazing performance whilst internally dying inside from the embarrassment. you could only dread what others will say about your taste in men.

it didn’t help that you often have to come to his chambers a lot of times, raising a lot of eyebrows from onlookers (especially from your other consorts), surprised that you actually like kreideprinz (albedo’s fake name) that much.

in reality, you only visited him just to discuss matters with him regarding your investigation, too distracted by it to not notice how the great sage thinks more than that.

you were too distracted to see how he sees you as if you’re his most precious hardwork. he could stare at you all day no matter what you do and he’ll still be awestruck. every single thing you do is worth remembering for even if you’re doing nothing at all.

you’re too distracted reading your knight’s reports about your investigation to see albedo playing with his abilities, thinking you’d be entertained by his exceptional magic that his master had praised.

you’re too distracted to see how he often teases your other consorts, telling them lies about how you always come to his chambers for entertainment. he must admit, the most amusing consort out of all is definitely kaeya alberich, who has the strongest feelings towards you more than anyone (which gives albedo all the more reason to mess with him). besides kaeya, scaramouche and xiao are the most amusing ones since albedo gets along quite well with them.

you’re too distracted to see how he sneaks to your room and outside of it to bless it from evil spirits, pleasing him in the process when he caught that traitor, thoma, standing still near the doors of your chambers with a hesitant stance. albedo wonders when that man will find out that one of his love rivals is his actual enemy.

you’re too distracted to see how jealous the sage becomes when you asked him if he could make a talisman for a certain consort, who already gave you one it seems. if it weren’t for his title as the great sage and his determination in impressing you, he would’ve used his old-school magic and put an unharmable trick on the talisman for kaeya to suffer with.

in the end, you didn’t get distracted when you realized one thing about the great sage.

albedo is perhaps the only person you couldn’t read thoughts from even when he has a strong emotion, but then again, he isn’t the great sage for nothing.

you didn’t have to read his mind to know his feeling, staring at his bright teal orbs as his hand is placed beside your head, trapping you against a wall behind you in his chambers. you were just talking to one of your consorts before you suddenly got pulled by albedo to his room.

“do you… have any idea how much i want to be with you, your imperial majesty?” he spoke in a low tone, your cheeks feeling warm from how close the both of you are. his breath reeks of alcohol too, making you wonder if he was drinking a lot at such an early hour.

before you could try to move away from the sage, you suddenly hear the doors of his chambers opening unexpectedly, causing you to look away from the sage’s eyes in surprise–

only to see a small figure of a man entering the chambers with looks of murder.

“...i knew this bastard would hog the emperor.” scaramouche snaps, smiling sinisterly. “but i would never have thought that his twin would hog them as well, aren’t i right, oh great sinister sorcerer rubedo?”

SCARAMOUCHE

if itto isn’t the scariest person in your empire, scaramouche would’ve taken that title instead.

you could understand why on earth your people are so scared of someone such as scaramouche, but you could never understand the cruel rumors about him in his household. besides that point, his way of speech, his posture, the way he carries himself, and everything else about him is every nobleman’s dream son – which isn’t exactly a surprise since his caretaker, yae miko from the empire of eien, had raised him.

given that he’s admired by every single nobles, it’s evident that he ended up a part of your harem despite the rumors.

his attitude was not a surprise when he introduced himself to you, he reeks of confidence and power (and a spark of lightning, it seems) from his stance and voice alone, it’s very much something to admire and be intimidated by nobles.

you’d be lying if you said that you’ll visit scaramouche to spend a night sleeping beside him, because deep down you don’t think you’ll ever do it any time soon since you’re quite unsure if he’s someone who’s considered as your foe or ally.

it’s no surprise that tartaglia seems to know him given that both share the same nobility title. though they’re usually found bantering one another over things. never once did you find scaramouche talking to someone in a friendly manner.

except you, he claims.

“it wounds me that you don’t trust me as such, your imperial majesty,” scaramouche said, letting out what seemed to be an irritated sigh. “fine, how would you feel if i let you call me by my real name whenever we’re alone like this?”

he can tell you were taken back, but decided to hide your expression, causing him to add more. “if it makes you feel better, no one in this world knows my actual name besides my caretaker and someone who was important to me. isn’t this a good step in trusting someone such as me?”

you swirl your drink around, thinking for a moment.

“..i suppose it won’t hurt to know. is your real name embarrassing for you to not let anyone know about it?”

he rolls his eyes, leaning against the railway of his balcony. “of course not. i consider my real name something that is valuable enough to let those i care to only call me that.”

“so… call me kunikuzushi.”

“kunikuzushi,” you spoke, to not let the name get it on the tip of your tongue. “..i’ll call you that from now on, kunikuzushi.” you said with a smile, not caring to see how his eyes slightly widens before the devilish grin on his face comes back.

you never seem to care to see how he looks at your direction as if you’re the forever he desires. he’s impressed that you invited him out of all the people that could’ve been your consort instead despite the rumors that’s always circulating in town. he only accepted it because of how it gives him a chance to have the privilege to be close to the most powerful person in the empire (and because of how he’s interested to know why you chose him).

you never seem to care how he sees you as more than just some emperor he wants to take the role from because he starts to feel for the first time in years. no longer was the numb and agonizing feeling that his birth mother stole from him that made him despise this world, for all he feels is how his empty heart races and how his stomach feels.. strangely good when he’s around you. could you be the one he’s been desiring for all this time?

you never seem to care how his words are less harsher than how it was whenever he’s stuck with one of the consorts, thinking that no, you don’t deserve to see the harsh attitude of his that was created from his hatred to this world and his birth mother, and that you deserve to see at least the small crack of his real self that he hides with the walls he built up.

you never seem to care how it felt like he was back to being an empty shell that roams around the cold halls of his birth mother’s mansion in your empire when he was but a child when yae miko drops by the palace to check up on him (to torture him by reminding him of who he was before entering the palace), only to feel his heart racing again when you held his hand and told yae miko that yes, scaramouche has been comfortable around the palace and has been a good person around you.

you never seem to care how he felt hurt that you don’t trust him enough. did you really not know how much he does?

you never seem to care, but it makes him all the more challenged. he’ll show tartaglia how much you trust him more than that stupid ginger man.

despite being harsh, he’d never go that far towards consorts, so seeing him barging into albedo’s chambers absolutely seething at the sight of albedo shocked you, let alone spilling profanities at the great sage – well, you thought he was the great sage.

“i think it’s best for you to step away from that man, your imperial majesty. ” he said, still glaring daggers at the sage, or sorcerer, who has currently trapped you against the wall. “who knew you’d have the audacity to try and touch the emperor without knowing your place, you filth?”

you immediately brought out your dagger that was strapped to your thigh before pointing it at the unknown person in front of you, who remains unfazed by the situation.

“..you must be my brother’s close friend, huh?”

XIAO

the quietest consort…. and also one of the most reliable ones.

when you first met the man, the first thing in your mind was how pretty he looked. his amber-colored orbs definitely remind you of your knight, who you’re surprised to hear that he knows xiao a lot and is the reason why the consort was in your files of candidates.

the second thing in your mind is how quiet he is. he doesn’t bother spilling out flirts and words of flattery in order to gain your favor and love, though his caring self is what made you favor him a lot. unlike all of your consorts besides thoma, xiao comes from a family of exorcists, who your biological brother praised for their excellent skills, giving you an interest in inviting him to your harem.

just like kazuha, xiao isn’t found anywhere but by the gardens as well, where he sits on top of trees and relaxes. although it’s hard for his servant to look for him, you clearly didn’t have a hard time since the man always appears when you call him, scaring you in the process by accident.

he explains how he’s uninterested to be with people, since it’ll only harm them in the process because of a curse that’s been going around his family for generations to generations because of their ways in exorcism, killing his siblings in the process.

you were quite well aware of xiao’s curse thanks to his father, who explained thoroughly about the curse and gave you a book to read in case you wish to know what to do when he goes through pains, giving you more reasons to visit xiao every now and then to check up on him. sometimes if your busy time prevents you from doing so, you’d send your knight or butler to do it instead on your behalf.

“you don’t have to send your knight or butler to check up on me, your imperial highness.” he spoke as the two of you stroll around the garden. “i’ve dealt with this… curse for my life, i know what to do if i ever experience the pain again.”

“i’m quite well aware of that,” you told him. “but i just want to make sure you’re okay since.. it often worries my poor heart for your condition.”

is it just him, or has his surroundings gone.. warmer?

“...i’ll be alright,” he reassures you. besides, my pains have started to lessen ever since i arrived at your palace.

you don’t realize how much he sees you as his soulmate.

he was too busy devoting himself to becoming the best exorcist to not pay attention to something such as romantic love, but he’s spent time with a certain runaway prince from a faraway kingdom to become aware of love after listening to the certain prince’s songs and poems that he made that actually helped him come through his pains.

it was just like that when he first met you. loving and peaceful.

you don’t realize how much he feels at peace when he’s with you. he doesn’t mind that you didn’t come to his chambers to sleep next to him, but he would be lying if he said that his mind doesn’t trail off to thinking about what it’s like to sleep next to you. would he be able to experience what dreaming something good feels like?

you don’t realize how much it means to him when you accept his gift happily and thank him, it warms his heart a lot when he sees you actually wearing it when he spots you walking around the palace nearby without noticing him. it may just seem like an amulet that gives you protection from evil spirits, but to him, it’s an item that he made with love and in hopes that you’ll like it. he sometimes wonders how others would feel when they see the amulet (that has the same colors as his necklace that he wears on his neck) and realize it’s a gift from him.

not to mention the fact that you always gave xiao painkillers whenever he runs out of it, always insisting that he should tell you if there’s at least one painkiller that’s more effective than the other, not realizing that you’re his painkiller.

you don’t realize how it breaks his heart when you chose tartaglia to become your first dance partner of the banquet, even more so when your attention is only at a blonde man who goes by albedo instead of him, who actually showed up in such a crowded place just for you. does he not mean something to you as much as you are to him?

you don’t realize how he’s the reason why scaramouche found out about albedo’s secret twin getting rid of albedo and replaced him with himself, letting the angered noble come over to the dancer’s room to deal with the twin as he sets out to find the real albedo, who’s most likely trapped somewhere in the palace since he’s been sensing dangerous spirits lurking around recently. he would’ve ignored all this if it weren’t for your safety.

you don’t realize how much it pains him to see you visit half of your consorts’ chambers except his. he hides that from you, but it does hurt that you don’t notice it.

it all washed away one night when you came back from the empire of where kaeya came from ever since you visited the empire for the wedding.

xiao quickly headed towards the scene where he heard the sounds of someone crying, only to see you standing nearby covering your eyes that had tears.

he didn’t know what came over him, really. he was standing on top of a tree before he found himself in front of you, concern flashes through his face. who dares to make you cry so much? never has he seen you in such a fragile state, and he wanted nothing more but to see you happy aga–

it felt like his heart stops when you suddenly wrap your arms around him.

“i..” you sobbed as his breath hitched in response. “i hate him so much. why.. why does he do this to me?”

xiao isn’t quite sure of who you’re talking about. who’s he? what did he do to make you cry so much?

“..i don’t know…” he mumbles, before he hesitantly wraps his arms around you. “but i’m here for you, your imperial highness. whenever you need me, i’m here.”

ZHONGLI

the captain of the imperial guard, also your most trusted confidant and knight. he isn’t a part of your harem, but all of your consorts are envious of him because of how he gets to be with you everywhere you go.

you’ve known him for as long as you remember to the point where he knows you like the back of his hand (or so he thinks). it’s no lie to nobles that he’s someone precious to you both in status and personally, making him one of the only people no one dared to pose as an enemy in the empire.

the both of you are so close that it wouldn’t surprise anyone if you ever caught feelings for him and chose him as your husband, but much to their surprise, you caught feelings for a certain prince, who’s also your childhood friend besides zhongli.

he was with you through thick and thin. through your spar training, coming of age ceremony, escapades from royal banquets to get away from chatty guests, the person you practiced your love confession for diluc to, your heartbreak, the mourning of your father’s death, the battles you spent with him against your step-brother in order to win your throne, your coronation, and of course, welcoming your harem to your palace.

he’s quite knowledgeable and skilled in many activities. he’s actually the reason why you’re interested in opera and had the chance to meet the infamous yunjin as well as the reason why you always drank tea (despite your preferences in drinks). despite your protests, he had always visited your office to give you tea that he personally made, telling you yet another long explanation as to why it’s a good drink for you.

unknownst to him though, you’ve been getting suspicious as you find out more about your investigation. if ayato, who should be dead, isn’t the so-called dark lord who’s after you and your throne, then is your biological brother behind it? if so, is zhongli with your brother?

you don’t get to see how zhongli looks at you like you’re enough.

everyday, he wakes up and starts his day just to see you and helps you with everything he can as he makes sure you’re happy everyday even if he’s not the reason for your happiness. he devotes himself into becoming a better person and protector just for you. even a blind person could see how much he loves you.

you don’t get to see how he struggles to figure out how he feels about you. is this what poets would consider as love?

by the end of the day, he considers his feelings as love. he wonders if you love him back as well, causing him to feel a bit giddy and help him sleep better from thinking about you.

you don’t get to see how his face instantly goes from happiness to sadness quickly as soon as you take your leave after you practiced your confession for diluc, for someone who knows how to talk a lot, he was speechless from how painful his heart was when he finds out that his love for you was unrequited.

you don’t get to see how angry he feels when he sees you crying on your bed, telling him how diluc’s getting married to another without you knowing about it until you received his wedding invitation. the audacity that red-haired man has, how dare he wasted your love for him just for another?! just the thought made his draconic features that he unintentionally revealed on his face – only for it to disappear when you held his hand, telling him to not leave you alone for a moment.

you don’t get to see how smug he feels when diluc sees him holding his hand on your back, a sign of protection and a sign of disapproval against the newlywed man. after all, this is what he gets for treating you like nothing.

you don’t get to see how he was completely against your decision to get more than one consort. just when he thought his heartbreak would disappear, it simply returns so soon. unfortunately for him, he wasn’t able to express his decision since he knows you were only doing this to get back at diluc, who he’s sure will be upset from this.

you don’t get to see how he had a small discussion with your butler, who told the knight strictly that he should keep his feelings to himself since the butler wants nothing more but for you to fully move on from your heartbroken state and rule your empire, telling zhongli that he should leave you alone for now after the butler caught sight of the knight escorting you to your room after you got drunk from drinking wine with him.

you don’t get to see how zhongli makes your meals ever since you two found out about a traitor in your palace. he’ll blame himself if you ever get hurt from something he could’ve prevented.

if there’s a consort he trusts, the knight definitely trusts xiao, who he knows will protect you from harm as well. which led him to persuade the exorcist to give you an amulet that will surely protect you from evil spirits.

you don’t get to see how zhongli was there when he sees you hugging xiao as you cry your heart out as zhongli tells himself that he’s too late to be able to comfort you and that he should listen to the butler. he knows he can’t tell you how he feels for so many years, but it pains him so to try and forget his feelings for you, the only person who gets to make him feel like this.

you do get to see it.

it was one night when you accidentally fell asleep on your desk once more, only to wake up when you felt zhongli carrying you back to your chambers. just how many times have the both of you done this throughout your years together? you couldn’t count honestly, but you always made sure to pretend you’re asleep just to not make zhongli get embarrassed.

however, unlike the times when he does this to you, this moment was different.

instead of exiting your chambers as soon as he tucks you in and letting your servant dress you in your nightwear, he stays still before whispering words that make your heart drop.

“...i wish you good night, my love.”

a few fun facts !!

zhongli and xiao know each other because of how both of their families are quite close together thanks to their mothers, who knew each other ever since they were children.

scaramouche, albedo, and xiao have an unspoken alliance with one another and respect each other a lot after an unknown incident. it’s quite an unexpected trio, really.

ever since rubedo, albedo’s secret twin, replaced his brother with himself, presence of dark spirits have grown stronger unlike before, catching xiao’s attention in the process and starting to grow suspicious of “kreideprinz’s” behavior, which started at the same time as the strong presences of dark spirits.

every single consort is aware of itto’s tendency to watch them from the doors of his chamber but paid no mind since it’s not something to worry about.

kaeya’s unfortunately a victim to most incidents that have occurred in the harem hall. sometimes he’d be involved in a fight, lost an item that he assumes was stolen by someone such as scaramouche, and so on. it honestly worries the man that it’ll change your perception to him.

tartaglia and scaramouche are in a one-sided rivalry, with scaramouche being the one who sees the ginger-haired man as a rivalry while tartaglia pretends to be oblivious of it and acts as though they’re childhood friends that have reunited.

albedo’s the first consort who manages to see thoma’s facade, especially since he caught a sight of a certain dark omen in an accessory of the blonde-haired man’s.

kazuha is a loner and wants to keep it that way, though he does find himself getting along with scaramouche and xiao, who he had conversations with during the royal banquet.

the only consorts who spend time in the training grounds are tartaglia, arataki itto, and sometimes kaeya, leading them to start getting along with one another and became good friends (and rivals when it comes to you).

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floatyflowers · 2 years

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𑁍Masterlist𑁍

Oshi No Ko

Sister Complex Masterlist

Hunter x Hunter

Father! Kurapika

Jujutsu Kaisan

Father! Satoru Gojo

Another Father! Satoru Gojo

Death Note

Father! Light Yagami

Lotr/The hobbit

Grandfather! Thranduil

Father! Legolas

Dark Sauron

Father Morpheus(The Sandman)

The Boys

Father! Homelander Part 2

Hannibal

Father Hannibal Lecter

Dark! Hannibal Lecter, and John Wick x Young Mother! Reader Part 2

Stranger Things

Husband! 001 (Vecna)

Jason Carver P2

Father! 001

House of the dragon

Husband! Daemon Targaryen Part 2

The Adopted Princess Masterlist

First Husband Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Second Husband Aegon Targaryen

Husband! Larys Strong

Fairest of Them All | Aegon II, Aemond, and Jacaerys x Reader

Dark Platonic Mother!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Daughter Reader

Dark Platonic Father Aegon II x Reader

Dark Platonic Father Maegor The Cruel x Reader

Dark Platonic Father Aegon The Conqueror x Reader

Dark Platonic Father Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Dark Platonic Father Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Dark Father Aegon II x Mother! Reader x Son! Aegon III

Dark Platonic Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader x Dark Platonic Alicent Hightower

Dark Platonic Mothers! HOTD/GOT (Cersei, Alicent, Sansa, and Rhaenyra) x Reader

Dark! Jaehaerys Targaryen x Maegor's Daughter! Reader

Dark Male! Rhaenyra Targaryen x Cousin Reader Part 2

Below the Surface| Dark! HOTD various x Reincarnated Reader

Dark Male! Daenerys Targaryen x Baratheon! Reader Part 2

Dark! Grown-up Lucerys Valeryon x Twin!Reader

Dark Male! Alicent Hightower x reader

Percy Jackson x House Of The Dragon x Reader Crossover.

Mythology

Dark Greek Gods (Apollo, Hermes, and Ares) x Reader

Dark! Eros x Reader x Dark! Anteros

Dark! Platonic Father Apollo x Reader

Dark! Achilles and Patroclus x Reader (Poly)

Wednesday

Dark! Male! Wednesday Addams

Percy Jackson

Dark Platonic Camp Half-Blood x Reader x Dark Platonic Greek Gods Part2

Eros' Daughter Fanfic Masterlist

Percy Jackson x House Of The Dragon x Reader Crossover.

Dark! Hades x Demigod! Reader

Chronicles of Narnia

Male! Queen Jadis 'The White Witch'

The Last Of Us

Dark Platonic Father! Joel Miller

Dark Joel Miller x Married! Reader

Star Wars Universe

Dark Platonic! Din Djarin x Reader

Historical Figures

Dark! Platonic Father! Saladin x Reader x Dark! Baldwin IV

Dark! Ancient Rulers (Ramesses II and Alexander the Great) x Reader

Dark Platonic Alexander the Great x illegitimate! Daughter

Dark Husband! Alexander The Great x Reader

Dark Platonic! Father Henry VIII x reader

Dark! Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader

Back to the past| Dark! Tutankhamun x Modern! Reader

Dark! Male Catherine of Aragon and Male Anne Boleyn x Queen Reader

Avatar the Last Airbender

Dark! Zuko x Fragile! Reader

The second wife| Dark! Ozai x Wife! Reader x Platonic Dark! Zuko and Azula

Dark Platonic! Fire Nation Royal Family x Non-bender Reader Part 2

Dark Ozai x Iroh's betrothed! Reader

Dark! Fire Nation Royal Family x Bloodbender Reader

Dark! Male Azula x Reader

Lolita

Male! Dolores Haze x Reader

Dark Manhwa/manga characters

Dark! Husbands (Erno Etham, and Camille Lafayette) x reader

Dark! Anime DILFS x reader

Harry Potter

Dark! Tom Riddle x Hufflepuff! Reader

Dark! Sirius Black x Reader

Bram Stoker's Dracula

Dark Platonic! Father Dracula x Reader x Dracula's Brides

Interview with the vampire

Dark!Platonic/Romantic Lestat de Lioncourt

Barbie

Dark Platonic Adoptive! Parents Barbie And Ken x Reader

Original Characters

Dark Platonic! Rich Father x Reader

Dark Platonic! Father Merman x Human! Reader

Dark Platonic! Alien Father x Toddler! Human Reader

Dark Platonic! Fathers as Zodiac Signs x Reader

Dark Husbands! Vampire, Merman, and Faerie x Human! Reader

Dark! Platonic Father and Mother Faerie x Human! Reader

Dark! Male Homewrecker x Reader (Late 1800's era)

Dark! Platonic Gym Father x Chubby! Reader

Dark! Human Apps (Duolingo, Tumblr, and Wattpad) x Reader

One Piece

Dark Platonic! Father Zoro x Reader

Migi to Dali

Dark! Migi and Dali x Reader

Disney

Dark Platonic Father Tarzan x Reader

AI accounts:

Character AI List| Character Link List

#masterlist #platonic yandere #father #brother #yandere house of the dragon #tw: toxic relationships #aegon ii targaryen x reader #daughter reader #wednesday addams x reader #anime #lotr x reader

2K notes · View notes

fizzydrink698 · 2 years

Text

consort v | minho

pairing: lee minho x reader

word count: 15.1k

genre: historical au, arranged marriage au, enemies-to-lovers

warnings: sexual content, period-typical sexism, discussions of sex and pregnancy, specifically sexual content warnings below the cut, look at these losers finally communicating just barely, an ungodly amount of fic

series masterlist | one | two | three | four

summary:

It was strange to see him in this kind of environment – in public, on display, revered by the people and intimidating the elite. You hated to admit it, but he really was the picture-perfect crown prince. Tall, good-looking, keen-eyed and sharp-witted.

sexual content warnings: oral sex, masturbation

Wake in your chambers, eat breakfast, study your histories, take a walk around the grounds, study geography, eat lunch, study with Seungmin, eat dinner, sleep. Your sessions with Seungmin were a welcome reprieve from loneliness, and you adored the feeling of progress you were making as you named towns and rivers and forests you had never seen in person before.

But you couldn’t deny that your life was still just a touch monotonous.

Until finally, finally, a day came when you were allowed out of the palace.

Royal visits were a common enough occurrence, when the weather was good and travel was easy. It was a chance for the king to inspect a lord’s territory and enjoy his hospitality.

This outing would be your first as a royal, as a newlywed, as a princess. The first opportunity to test yourself.

The visit was simple enough. The royal family had been invited by Lord Young to visit his demesne and be given a tour of the orchards there. Dinner would be served, and you would be bundled back into the carriage by nightfall.

You were determined to make it a success, you resolved, as the carriage drew to a stop.

You moved to step out, raising your head - and faltered.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, stunned, one foot outside the carriage.

In the palace, surrounded by the dense woodland and hills that gave it such an important defensive position, it was almost easy to forget that spring had arrived.

That was what made the sight of the orchard so spectacular. Each peach tree was in full bloom, clusters and clusters of tiny pink flowers adorning every branch. The morning sun, shining brightly in an almost cloudless sky, only heightened its dazzling beauty.

“It’s the same as it is every year,” a voice drawled, refusing to indulge you.

Ah, yes. The one blight to this near-perfect view.

Minho stood several feet away, eager to escape the carriage that had caged the two of you in for what felt like hours. The journey had only been stretched further by its silence, you content to read your books, Minho content to glower over his paperwork.

Since your argument in your chambers, the atmosphere between the two of you had…well, you weren’t sure how to describe it. You definitely wouldn’t call it ‘improved’.

But not…worsened, either.

Strange. Strange was the best way to put it.

Still, you were determined to ignore him, if he was so intent on dampening your mood.

After all, you had a careful plan to put into motion today.

Your mother’s words echoed in your mind.

The common folk always love a new princess.

You were determined to test that idea, to encourage and nurture it in any way you could. Royal visits were always a grand spectacle, and if curious eyes were directed towards you, you were determined to hold their attention.

And so, as you and the royal family were guided around the orchard, you talked.

To everyone.

Every servant, every attendant, every person you laid your eyes on. Sometimes, it was only a passing greeting – a ‘hello’ given to orchard workers, those so busy that a long conversation would be nothing but a burden, even with a royal. Sometimes, it was a pleasant exchange of small talk. You complimented the beauty of the region, the quality of their peaches they grew and the people that lived there, the way they had welcomed you.

The conversations may have been of little substance, certainly – but you were starting to enjoy yourself. It was a breath of fresh air to be treated with such honest kindness by so many. The days you had spent at court, feeling trapped under the weight of whispering nobles and contemptuous glances, had left their mark on you. You hadn’t expected how freeing it felt to just talk openly, and not have to think about every word before you spoke it aloud.

Your favourite interaction was with the little girl that presented you and Minho with flowers. She looked around eight or nine years old, utterly precocious as she handed you the bouquet and gawked at you when you carefully tucked one of the blooms behind her ear.

“Hello,” you greeted, smiling sweetly, and that was all the encouragement she needed.

As you followed the meandering procession around the orchard, barely in earshot of the guide as he talked the king and Minho through the details of the upcoming season, the flower girl chatted at your side about anything and everything.

You were happy to embolden her, asking questions whenever you could get a word in edgeways.

“We got the whole day off when you got married, you know? That was fun.”

“Really? What did you do?”

“My brothers got the day off school, so we played in the streams! And I made cakes with my mother,” she added, delighted at the memory.

You didn’t ask why this girl didn’t mention her own schooling. Outside of the rich elite, female education was rare. Still, it was with a twisting sensation in your gut that you pushed past this thought and asked her another question. “What kind of cakes did you make?”

“Just plain, with these bits of fruit in them,” the little girl explained, pulling a face. “Mother said it’s good luck for weddings.”

You were fairly sure you could make enough cake to fill every room in the palace, and it still would not be enough luck to overcome Minho and his infuriating demeanour.

The thought of him was enough to divert your attention, just for a moment, to look over at Minho as he walked ahead of you in this informal procession.

The same qualities that made him so perfectly suited to the politics of his role – staying aloof, hiding his motives, so unruffled and so unreadable – were the qualities you found so infuriating in him as a husband. You could draw blood from a stone before you could make Minho open up about his true thoughts.

I’m lacking. Not you.

You’d spent far too much time going over those four little words in your mind, trying to pick them apart, piece together what he meant. They were so blunt – the way Minho would dance back and forth between flowery, sharp-tongued jibes and curt, blunt sentences was something you were slowly getting used to.

You idly imagined, not for the first time, strapping Minho to a chair and forcing him to finally explain his actions. It was an attractive idea, if politically ill-advised.

Although, if he pushed you far enough…

“Are you shy?”

You blinked, breaking out of your treasonous thoughts, to see the flower girl looking up at you curiously.

Shy? And here you thought you had made such an impression, socialising with everyone in sight. “Why? Do I seem shy?”

“Mother says you two are shy,” the girl says. “She says you’re like her.”

‘You two’. You resisted the urge to look over at Minho again. “Really? Is your mother shy?”

The little girl makes a face. “Yes. Father says so too. She says you’re the same as her, that’s why she likes you.”

That was something you’d never considered before.

You had felt so self-conscious every time you appeared distant from Minho in public. As if any moment you weren’t touching was a moment the court would fixate on, analyse and gossip about as soon as you left the room. You continued to worry endlessly about how far the rumours about the two of you reached, what people thought of you, the estranged newlyweds.

You hadn’t thought about the possibility that it might endear you to the people. That they might love the idea of a quiet, chaste couple just as much as an affectionate, passionate one.

It was…a surprising weight off your shoulders.

“I suppose I’m a little shy,” you said, and it wasn’t quite a lie. You were more than happy to play the besotted wife in public, stage those lingering touches and warm looks, but that wasn’t real. Real affection meant…vulnerability. And that didn’t need an audience.

Swallowing, your eyes naturally drifted towards Minho again, and your lips curled upwards as an idea formed.

You cleared your throat and glanced away from him again. This time, you spoke just a little louder, just about within Minho’s hearing. “I suppose that’s something you should ask His Highness. He’s far shyer than I am.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Minho stilling, turning towards you. You could only imagine the kind of glare he had on his face, but it was so satisfying to stay turned away from him. You would let him wish you would return his look, you would refuse to give him his way for once in his life.

“But let’s go back to cake,” you said, and the little girl brightened. “What’s your favourite kind of cake?”

Your conversation – which went on to cover a vast array of sweet treats, from cakes to pastries to sugared fruits – lasted until lunch, when the tour of the peach orchards concluded and the little girl reluctantly said her goodbyes as an anxious steward hurried her away. You were half-sure that, were it not for your insistence to continue talking to her throughout the tour, he would have done so sooner.

Your small walking group of royals and noblemen dawdled by the edge of the orchard, making light conversation as servants hurried about making the final preparations for lunch. You’d heard the meal described as simply a ‘picnic’, and had pictured some sort of intimate setting. Blankets, plates of fresh local produce to snack on, a chance to unwind.

From what you could tell of the scene in front of you, you were sorely mistaken. Banquet tables, silverware, scores upon scores of attendants. A group of musicians stood by, tuning their instruments. Clearly, lunch would be a grand affair.

Still, you were glad for the break in walking. These boots were new, and you hadn’t had the opportunity to break them in before your visit. Now, you could feel the ache in your feet as they tried and failed to adjust to the thick, unforgiving soles. Already, you had grown so used to silk finery and delicate shoes made for the indoors.

After a morning of interacting with everyone in sight, it was nice to have a moment alone in the quiet. Standing alone, turned away from the group and staring out at the long lines of peach trees that stretched out in front of you, you could breathe just a little easier.

And then, the faintest glimpse of shadow entered your peripheral vision. You turned, instinctively, to see Minho stood a few feet away. Not looking at you, not even turned towards you. He looked faintly bored, restless, as if these few minutes of waiting were agony.

That was strange, you’d always assumed he was quite patient. Or perhaps that was just in contrast to you. Everyone seemed to be more patient than you.

You glanced around, but there was no one else close by. You half-knew that, that was why you’d chosen to stand here in the first place.

It didn’t explain why he was here. If, for some unlikely reason, he was here to speak to you, he was doing a poor job of it. He hadn’t even attempted to greet you.

A childish part of you wanted to ignore him, and maybe if the two of you were alone and out of sight, you would. But in public, with his father within sight and a cluster of nobles lurking, you mustered up the effort.

“I thought they said lunch would be a picnic,” you noted, forgoing a greeting altogether.

Minho turned to you, one eyebrow slightly raised. You were prepared for some rude retort, for daring to disrupt his peace – and just the thought had your hackles raising, because hadn’t he done the very same thing coming here?

But all he did was shrug. “It is.”

You spared a glance at the scene ahead of you, of the final touches being made. “That’s quite a few banquet tables for a picnic.”

“The fact that lunch is outside at all is an astonishing break in tradition,” Minho drawled, but it didn’t come off as arguing with you, or correcting you. It was almost as if he were…agreeing with you. “They say that makes it a picnic, I suppose. Even adults like to play pretend sometimes.”

Adults. That hit on some strange memory of yours, some half-recollected childhood image.

You chased after it, trying to figure out what had sparked it.

Your father had adored these visits, before your family had moved to court permanently. It was a great honour to welcome the royal family with open arms, an opportunity to treat them to dinner and initiate private conversations. You had enjoyed them too, excited to drag Felix around your family’s home, introducing him to any and all things with great pride.

Minho, you remembered, was declared too old to join the two of you in such childish endeavours. Strange, considering that he was only a few years older than the two of you. In your earliest memories, if your calculations were correct – and they always were – Minho must have been no older than seven years old. And yet, just a few years of age difference and a title was enough to keep Minho with the adults and their dull conversations, and freed Felix to run and laugh with you.

Adults. For your entire childhood, no matter how old Minho was, he was considered an adult.

For the first time in your life – and you were half in denial that it was happening anyway – a hint of sympathy welled up within you for Minho.

“You say that like you aren’t one,” you pointed out. Quietly.

Minho paused, and glanced away. “Did I?”

You watched him, eyes lingering on his side-profile, the slight downturn of his lips, and found yourself at a loss on what to do, or what to say.

It was far easier to interact with Minho when you were angry with him. Without that anger, you were in uncharted waters. You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like feeling…unsteady around Minho.

You pushed this thought aside for now, settling on something simple and neutral to say to change the subject. “How many times have you visited this orchard?”

Minho took a second to think it over, before looking back to you. “Quite a few. Five? Six? Why do you ask?”

“It’s a stunning place, and yet you’re completely unimpressed,” you remarked. “Although I suppose that should be expected at this point.”

“Expected?”

“Nothing impresses you, it seems.”

You blinked, surprised, when Minho smiled at this observation. “Not usually, no.”

The tiniest, tiniest part of you latched onto that reply, as if it were some kind of challenge, and you wanted to scowl.

You shouldn’t – you didn’t – care about impressing Minho. Not at all.

“Why? Is the orchard sparking some kind of artistic inspiration?” Minho asked, as his smile sharpened slightly, transforming into a smirk.

“I’ve decided it’s best to put aside my artistic endeavours, and focus on my education,” you told him, your tone dry. “I’m so sorry to disappoint.”

“How fickle you are,” Minho commented.

You stiffened, bristling at these words. “I’m not fickle. I might struggle to find a passion, but when I do, I devote myself to it. Entirely.”

Something in Minho’s eyes shifted, as he looked at you. You were prepared for some kind of disbelief, or another teasing jab, but none came. Just that brief, disarming look.

And then it disappeared, and Minho rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure the art world mourns the loss of such potential.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, managing to return to your usual sardonic exchange almost as quickly as Minho. “They’ll recover, in time.”

“I’m sure.”

Minho’s expression had relaxed slightly, and you were about to make another retort, when a loud voice suddenly cut through the air.

“Your Highness.”

Both yours and Minho’s heads turned at the very same moment, to find Lord Young standing a few feet away with an easy smile on his face. His attention was solely fixed on Minho, barely sparing you a glance.

“Might I steal you for a moment during lunch? I’d love to get your opinion on something.”

Minho’s shoulders straightened, and you watched his face smooth out as he eyed Lord Young with such a familiar look. Composed, aloof, cold and disinterested.

The same mask he used with you.

You stilled, as a sudden thought hit you.

The same mask he used to use with you. You hadn’t seen that in quite a while.

What did that–

“If it doesn’t offend your lovely wife, of course,” Lord Young interrupted your train of thought before you could pick this realisation apart, finally turning his attention towards you. You’d spent enough time around your parents to recognise a polite, forced smile when you saw one – but you supposed you should give Lord Young credit for trying. “Taking her dear husband away from her side.”

Something about Young’s words pricked at your nerves. You remembered his appearance in Minho’s study. His sharp eyes. His offhand comments.

Marital bliss.

There was some kind of layer to this, some sort of test.

You felt Minho’s eyes on you.

Immediately, you forced a warm smile – bright and cheerful, the very picture of a beloved princess. Whatever Young was trying, you were more than capable of fending him off.

“Not at all, Lord Young,” you said, tilting your head as your voice came out light and airy. “I imagine you can’t have many opportunities to talk to my husband, and I see him so often. I can spare him for one lunch.”

Young’s expression didn’t falter. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Think nothing of it. I can take the time over lunch to introduce myself to your wife. It’s such a pity your daughter couldn’t be here, I’d love to reconnect with her. Does she still play?”

For a split-second, Young’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Play?”

“The harp,” you reminded him, smiling so sweetly. “I used to take lessons with her when we were children.”

“Of course!” Young exclaimed, recovering quickly. “I’m surprised you remember, that must have been years ago.”

“I have a good memory.”

“Apparently so,” Young agreed. “Yes, she still plays.”

“She seems to have grown into quite the accomplished woman,” you noted. “I’m sure you’re very proud.”

Proud enough to forget the instrument your only daughter played.

“Naturally.”

“She’ll make a lovely wife one day,” you smiled. “Let me know when you bring her to court. I’ll ask the queen to make some introductions.”

“So kind of you to offer, Your Highness,” Young said, bowing his head slightly. How clever of him, to avoid giving you a clear yes or no. Your offer had been very generous – many noblemen would kill for the chance to have the royal family arrange a good match for their daughters. It was very curious that Lord Young wasn’t jumping at the chance.

You turned to face Minho, who had been observing the back-and-forth between you and Lord Young with a curious expression, and your smile widened.

“Please try to be back before dessert,” you asked Minho, voice still sweet and pleasant and very different to how you usually spoke to Minho. “You know how much I like to share it with you.”

Minho looked at you for a moment, his eyebrow lifting just slightly at the syrupy tone your voice had taken on, and you fought back the embarrassment curling in your gut.

With Lord Young behind you, you chanced a very brief glare of warning at Minho. A silent, very obvious demand for him to play along.

His lips twitched in amusement, and when he finally spoke, his voice matched yours – sickly-sweet and utterly alien.

“Of course.”

Lady Young was pleasant enough. She wasn’t as subtle as her husband in her intentions or turns of phrase, and she seemed happy to welcome you into her company.

You listened to her small talk with a patient smile, offering uncontroversial input on topics like current fashions, music, recent weddings and bereavements.

You were perfectly at ease.

Until the subject of children came up.

One of Lady Young’s friends brought up the recent birth of twin sons to a baroness, and almost immediately, you felt the attention of the table slowly shift towards you.

You very purposefully ignored them, looking down at your plate and taking another bite of your meal. You had barely managed to suffer through this conversation on children with your mother, you would not go through the same ordeal with a group of complete strangers.

“Your Highness–”

“This flatfish is delightful,” you remarked, looking up to smile at Lady Young. “So light, so tender. My compliments to the chef.”

Lady Young blinked in surprise. “…Yes, I suppose it is quite delicious.”

One of the ladies at the table – a slightly older woman, draped in rich blue fabrics and staring at you with interest – spoke up. “I remember having such a craving for seafood when I was pregnant with my first boy.”

“Hmm, how interesting,” you commented. “My mother craved sweetened cream and red meat with me. I wonder why different bodies crave such different foods.”

But before anyone at the table could jump onto this subject, you turned to the attendant and flashed him a polite smile. “How on earth do you manage to keep the fish so fresh? We’re so far from the coast.”

The attendant stared at you for a moment, wide-eyed as he realised you were talking to him. You waited patiently, as he managed to formulate a reply.

“Uh…well, I believe we started to get our fish delivered through the canals now. It’s a lot faster than by horse.”

“Ah, of course,” you said, ignoring the bewildered looks at your table at this sudden subject change. “Canals! Does it come from Daun? I hear that’s a rather big fishing village.”

“I-I think so. I know it comes through Hakri.”

“Interesting,” you nodded. You’d have to note that down the next time you looked over the kingdom’s maps with Seungmin.

“Her Highness has such peculiar interests,” Lady Young laughed, eliciting a few chuckles from the rest of the table.

You forced a smile, turning away from the attendant. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“But I’m sure His Highness finds it endearing.”

That was one word for it, you supposed.

“He hasn’t complained yet,” you said, diplomatically.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Your Highness,” Lady Young began, leaning forward. “How are you enjoying married life?”

It was a simple enough question, with a simple response. You should gush praises about Minho’s character, how he treats you, drop a tasteful hint or two about your interactions behind closed doors.

And yet, you found yourself struggling to form the right words.

“He’s…” you trailed off, and before you could stop yourself, you glanced over your shoulder.

There was Minho, stood with his father and Lord Young. They seemed deep in conversation, clustered together. Lord Young was speaking, gesturing with his hands as he did so. The king seemed to be paying close attention, although the crease in his brow suggested he wasn’t in agreement. Minho was much harder to read, expression smooth and perfectly neutral as he watched Lord Young.

You stared at the three of them, this trio of important men, and something curdled in the pit of your stomach.

…Jealousy. You realised, with a start, that it was jealousy.

For all your studying, all your knowledge of politics and history, it would be almost impossible to break into that social circle. How ingrained an idea it was, to herd the women together to gossip while the men could have their serious discussions. How easily they refused you an opportunity to prove yourself, without even thinking about it.

And then, from all that distance away, Minho’s gaze turned to meet yours.

You realised, in that instant, how obvious your thoughts were. You’d made no effort to hide them from your expression. You were an open book.

You swallowed, shaken as Minho’s eyes lingered on you, and it took you a moment to force another smile before you turned back to the table.

“He’s wonderful,” you replied, hands clenching and unclenching under the table. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

Your face ached. You must have smiled more in that one visit than you had in the last fortnight. As soon as your carriage door was shut, you resisted the urge to massage your jaw, public persona fading away as you settled into your seat.

“That was…exhausting,” you mumbled to yourself, closing your eyes.

You had originally planned to finish the rest of your reading on the journey back home, but the thought of trying to stare at printed words until your frazzled brain could process them made you want to hurl your books out of the carriage window.

“It always is.”

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of Minho’s voice, and you found him in the middle of taking off his jacket. Just like you, Minho had slipped back into his private self, hair slightly dishevelled as he finished easing the jacket off and tossed it onto the seat next to him. His mouth was pulled down into a frown, expression visibly withdrawn.

You hesitate, before voicing the question on your mind.

“Minho, do you…dislike these kinds of visits?”

He let out a sigh, and didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he kept looking out through the window, his long fingers drumming against his thighs.

And then, to your surprise, he answered.

“Yes. Not because they’re tiring, because…” he paused, as if trying to word his thoughts, or weighing up whether to even let slip what he was thinking. “There’s always strings attached.”

You frowned. “I thought someone in your position would be used to that by now.”

“Oh, I’m used to it, yes,” Minho retorted, “but I can still resent it.”

There was a weight to his words, something revealing. Yet another response from Minho to pick apart when you were alone and your thoughts were racing.

“And what was the string today?” You asked, even though you half-knew the answer already.

“Talking with Lord Young and my father,” Minho said, lip curling in distaste. “Young likes to bring me into the conversation when he’s pushing for something. He sees me as the easier target. Younger, impressionable, more likely to listen to his ideas. He likes to think he can win me to his side easily, and use that majority against my father.”

Your lips twitched, as you struggled to fight back a smirk at his words. And while you had some success in that, you couldn’t hide the amusement in your voice when you spoke your thoughts. “Young thinks you’re the easier option to manipulate?”

You weren’t expecting Minho to laugh – a genuine laugh, you would even go as far as describing it as warm – at your words. He turned his head to look at you, a new light in his eyes. “One day, they’ll learn better.”

Trying to stay casual, you give into the curiosity that had been gnawing at you for most of the day. “What did he want to talk about over lunch?”

“Money. He’s been asking for more and more of it, which is quite ironic considering–”

“Considering how many times he’s opposed increases to the royal budget.”

Minho blinked in surprise.

It took you a split-second to realise why, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Three times in the last year alone, if I’m not mistaken,” you added, batting your eyelashes innocently. “Am I? Mistaken?”

You relished the hesitation Minho took, before admitting to you. “No.”

“Good to know.”

He tilted his head slightly, scrutinising you. “You’ve done your research.”

“Of course I have,” you said. “Why do you think I wore this?”

You gestured to yourself with a dismissive wave of your hand.. The dress you had chosen for today had been simple, almost plain-looking. No particular embellishments, trimmings or embroidery – just comfortable and, of course, the blood-red colour of the royal family.

“If a man like Lord Young has been arguing against royal spending, he’s not going to be impressed by some grand spectacle of an outfit,” you said. “He’s going to look at it and wonder how much of it had been bought with his taxes.”

His eyes narrowed. Somehow, at some point, you had grown used to the way Minho eyed you sometimes – not exactly suspicious, but as if he had found something that contradicted his perceptions of you.

He opened his mouth to say something, before pausing, and averting his gaze back to the window. “Red doesn’t suit you.”

You stilled, his words stinging. You thought you were growing used to Minho’s sharp tongue, that you’d developed a thick enough skin to let his words bounce off of you, that you’d managed to smother that last remaining shred of vulnerability from his rejection.

Apparently not.

His words still hurt – but they also angered, and you embraced that instead.

You glared at him, snapping back. “It doesn’t suit you either. It washes you out, makes you look sickly.”

Minho’s gaze turned sharply to meet yours again, and he smirked. “Where was this sharp tongue today? My father was just talking this afternoon about how well you charmed everyone.”

“Trying to charm you is a waste of time,” you said. “At this point, it’s quite obvious you’re immune.”

Minho hummed. His fingers began to tap against his thighs again, and you were proud in the way you managed to keep your eyes from wandering. “Does that mean you have tried to charm me in the past?”

You blinked, caught off-guard. What? What kind of question was that? And why would Minho ask it? To get under your skin?

Before you could reply, he sighed, as if bored with the conversation already. A conversation he started, you complained internally.

“So, is that what you’ve been studying with Seungmin?” Minho asked. “The whims of the aristocracy? Small talk and pleasantries?”

You frowned, refusing to rise to his bait. “I want to know more about this kingdom. I want to know everything about this kingdom.”

“That’s a tall task.”

“I’m ambitious,” you retorted. “What did you think I’d been studying with Seungmin, anyway?”

You didn’t expect much in terms of a reply. Some half-muttered confession that he hadn’t thought much on it, hadn’t taken you especially seriously and had settled for throwing you a tutor to keep you quiet.

“Languages,” Minho answered. “I thought it might have been languages. They seemed a large enough subject to keep your mind occupied like you wanted, and they’re quite indispensable for a…for someone in your role.”

It was rare for Minho to stumble over his words like that, and you jumped on that mistake immediately. “My role? What is my role, exactly?”

His wife. His consort.

You wanted Minho to finally face the reality of the situation. To stop pretending you were…whatever he seemed to think you were. Acquaintances. Obligations.

His jaw set. “Princess. And queen, eventually.”

“Yes,” you replied, voice turning sharp. “Your queen.”

Say it. Admit it.

Minho kept staring at you, expression so infuriatingly unreadable. You hated that he had years to perfect this mask, it put you at such a disadvantage when talking to him. The more you saw it, the more you wanted to do something to break it. Ruin it.

“What a future you have ahead of you,” Minho remarked, perfectly disinterested.

…You imagined, just for a moment, grabbing the book sitting by your side and launching it full-force at him. Every time you tried to corner him, he just slipped away so expertly, and you were getting sick of it. You were getting sick of losing these games.

You turned away, folding your arms over your chest, jaw tight. “There was no point in studying languages with Seungmin.”

“Oh?” Minho asked. You refused to look at him, but you could hear the shift in his voice. Amusement? Mocking?

You didn’t dare. You did not care.

“I’m already fluent in three,” you told him flatly. “Lakeland, Imperial and Hilltongue.”

Well, perhaps saying you were fluent in Hilltongue was a bit of an exaggeration. You were passably conversational, although dialects still posed some difficulties. True to its name, it required a certain dexterity to the tongue to navigate its variety of sounds.

Minho, however, latched onto one language in particular.

“Lakeland?” he repeated. “Interesting. You’ll have some conversation partners soon.”

You paused, head turning back to Minho instinctively. He was watching you, one eyebrow rising slightly now that your attention was back on him.

You fought the urge to scowl, as you realised you’d taken Minho’s bait without realising. Yet another loss in this little game. “What are you talking about?”

“The Lakelands are sending a delegation in the next few weeks to renew our treaty. Maybe you’ll be able to charm them like you did with the people here today.”

Your eyes widened at the thought.

Minho, perceptive as ever, caught this and sighed. “I just gave you a dangerous idea, didn’t I?”

“Perhaps,” you admitted, and for the first time that day, your smile was completely genuine.

“I’m starting to wonder whether I really thought this through properly,” you muttered, turning over to yet another page of dry, jargon-filled council records.

You’d had the bright idea of searching through the records for any mentions of the Lakelanders, trying to figure out when and why they were discussed by the royal family and their council.

You had started hours ago. You were barely two books in. The unread pile next to you only seemed to grow with each passing minute.

The tea that had carefully been brewed for you and Seungmin had grown stone-cold in the time it had been left untouched. You had almost cleared your plate of the steamed buns that accompanied it – studying always stirred up your appetite – but they too had grown cold, forgotten in the wake of the stacks upon stacks of books you had been working through for the last two hours.

Your hand was cramping. You set down your pen, stretching out your fingers, trying to encourage blood-flow back into them.

“Her Highness is always ambitious,” Seungmin noted, combing through a thick tome on international policy. Over time, he had slowly eased in your presence, letting go of his previous stiff formalities and allowing your conversations to relax somewhat.

Now, apparently, he’d even grown so bold as to tease you.

“Her Highness would appreciate it if her most trusted tutor could inform her whenever she tried to bite off more than she could chew.”

“But then how could Her Highness learn how to adjust her plans and lighten her workload when it becomes too much? Surely, that’s something she needs to confront on her own. Her most trusted tutor couldn’t possibly intervene.”

“Her Highness won’t hesitate to throw a steamed bun at her most trusted tutor. They’re stale enough now that it might hurt.”

Seungmin glanced up. “Her Highness would never throw food in a library. She has far too much respect for the preservation of these ancient works.”

You couldn’t help but pout, looking back down at the open book in front of you. A long, incredibly dreary description of a debate on port taxation stared back at you.

“You were right,” you grimaced, recalling Seungmin’s words from your first session. “These really are tedious reading.”

Seungmin laughed in agreement, in knowing. You can’t imagine how many of these texts he’d had to struggle through on his way to becoming a royal scholar. “We could always switch to another topic? How far have you gotten in memorising the provinces?”

“Ugh,” you grunted, letting your head drop forward onto the council records. They might have been mind-numbingly dull, but they were thick enough to serve adequately as a pillow. “I have the capital and the north memorised, I think. The south keeps tripping me up, there’s so many names that overlap.”

“Would you like me to test you on them?”

“Maybe another time. When my brain isn’t melting out of my ears,” you replied, slightly muffled. You lifted your head, rubbed at your face until your exhaustion eased slightly. “But speaking of geography, I did tell you about the canals, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Your Highness. It was nice to hear Hakri was involved in transporting fish. It’s always been such a tiny village.”

Blinking, you moved your hands from your face to look at Seungmin curiously. “Oh, are you from Hakri?”

“Near enough, I suppose. Less than an hour or so westward.”

That surprised you. Royal scholars like Seungmin usually grew up in the capital, where education and literature was more easily accessible. Living in the countryside meant it was that much harder to study, when books had to pass from hand to hand to travel that far from the presses.

It was quite admirable, you thought with a smile, before turning your attention back to the records.

“I’ll keep looking through this for now. There’s some interesting stuff in here, you’ve just got to dig through the dregs to…”

You trailed off, eyes catching on something.

Your brow furrowed.

Alongside the records of the council meetings themselves, there was always a list of who was present at each meeting. Kings, princes, council members, even guards and servants that attended to the royals and served the refreshments – a good way to keep track of who might leak information, and who might know a little too much.

One name, tacked onto the end of the council members, just before the list of servants. You would have assumed it was simply just another servant, but it was strangely…familiar.

Jiyoon.

You racked your brain for where you’d read that name before. It wasn’t in any of the council records before this, and you couldn’t recall any significant noblemen with the name. It was a strange name too, you would have thought you’d recognise it, very few men have that–

You paused.

You checked the date of the council meeting. Just shy of two centuries ago.

You rose from your seat, catching a confused Seungmin’s attention. “What is it?”

“Just checking something,” you replied, vaguely, as you wandered over to the shelves of books towering over your little study table. You found the book you needed soon enough – a simple history of the royal family tree, complete with brief summaries of each reign. It hadn’t been detailed enough to include in your own studies, but it served its purpose now.

You scanned through the pages, trying to find the exact time period you needed.

You found it. You checked. You double-checked.

On the page before you was a list of children sired by a king who ruled two centuries ago, along with their spouses and any note of children they would go onto have. And there, noted just next to the eldest son, was the name of his wife.

Jiyoon.

You stared at the name, still in disbelief.

Two centuries ago, a woman had served on the royal council.

A woman had–

“Your Highness?”

You started, head jerking up to meet Seungmin’s confused look just a few paces from you. You resisted the urge to snap the book shut, as if it contained something contraband, something illicit.

Part of you wanted to show Seungmin. He’d taken your thirst for knowledge in his stride, completely open and earnest as he supported you in your goals. You were almost certain this would excite him just as much as it did you.

But you held back. Just in case. Seungmin’s kind smiles and genuine enthusiasm to help you in your studying had made him a friend, but this wasn’t something to just blurt out. You needed time to explore this, to figure out what you could do with such information.

And so, you smiled at Seungmin, and lied. “Sorry, I was just double-checking my dates. I could have sworn King Yongjun had died by this period, but apparently I’d mistaken him for his father.”

“Ah, I see,” Seungmin said, confusion clearing and making way for a gentle understanding. “That dynasty can be tricky sometimes. A lot of short reigns, a lot of contested succession.”

That was right. When Yongjun passed away, the crown fell to Jiyoon’s husband. The two of them reigned for less than a year before civil war broke out – and both were dead in a matter of months.

Those had been dangerous times to rule. It would take decades before the kingdom found anything approaching the kind of peace it enjoyed now.

You pushed that thought out of your head, placing the book back onto the shelf, and wandered back to the table. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take this volume of council records to my chambers and finish going through it tonight. Clearly, if I’m making these kinds of mistakes with accession dates, I need a break.”

“Of course,” Seungmin nodded, sounding only a little disappointed that your study session would end a little sooner than usual. “If you’d like, I can send over the next two volumes?”

“Oh, you don’t have to rush,” you muttered to yourself, making an effort to stack the volumes in something approaching a neat pile. “I won’t have time for anything more than just the one tonight.”

“Really?” Seungmin blurted out immediately, surprise colouring his tone. He then immediately snapped his mouth shut, looking more than a little sheepish. “I mean…my apologies, Your Highness, I just–”

“I know, I know,” you said, waving away his apology. “It’s rare for me to do anything but studying in the evenings.”

Seungmin nodded, reaching for the stack of books and lifting it for you in one graceful motion. “Well, whatever it is, I hope you enjoy yourself, Your Highness.”

You scoffed. “Unlikely. I’m meeting with the king’s doctors.”

Seungmin’s grip suddenly faltered on the books, and you watched him stagger as he tried to stop himself from dropping the pile onto the floor. His face had paled, eyes wide as he stared at you. “What? Your Highness, are you ill? Is it…you should have told me if you were sick, I would have–”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted him, a little touched at his concern, as unwarranted as it was.

You understood why. The king’s doctors were experts in their field – you only visited them when an illness was gravely serious, when a regular physician was at a loss on how to treat you, when your days might just be numbered.

Or you visited them when you were a princess, and determining a pregnancy was a matter of national importance. In that situation, no one less than an expert could be trusted to ascertain such vital information.

“I’m perfectly healthy,” you reiterated, just to assure Seungmin a little more. “This is…more of a family matter, you could say.”

Seungmin was a smart man. He caught onto your meaning right away, and his expression melted into one of relief. “Ah. Well, I hope everything goes well, Your Highness. The whole kingdom wishes for your good health.”

You worked to keep the smile on your face as you thanked Seungmin for his kind words.

Because yes, you were sure there were those that hoped for your good health. You just wondered how many more people wished harder for you to have a son in you instead.

It was late in the evening when you finally returned to your chambers. Night had already fallen, plunging your rooms into near total darkness.

You went through the motions of lighting enough candles to read, even while your mind was far away, sluggishly trying to absorb the events of your afternoon.

Almost instinctively, you reached for the grey furs on your bed, pulling them around your shoulders. The warmth helped a little, the weight around you a strange comfort.

You were tired. You were so tired.

You had underestimated the ordeal of lying on a medical bed, being prodded and poked at by physicians, stripped bare as they talked over you, waiting as they performed test after test on you, as their careers - and if the king was feeling particularly severe, their lives - were forfeit if they turned out to be incorrect.

You should have felt humiliated. Upset. Angry.

But you didn’t. You just felt numb to it all. Resigned.

You tried to continue your research from earlier, but as soon as your eyes settled on that name Jiyoon, you couldn’t help the questions that ran through your mind.

Did you go through this too?

Did you feel like this when it was over?

Did you feel like your body was still your own?

Did you want to please them? Or did you want to disappoint them?

You pondered putting off research for today, and trying to go to bed a little earlier than usual. Already, your bed was calling for you, the prospect of sleep too tempting to ignore forever.

Perhaps.

But before that, you wanted some tea. Anything to relax you.

You closed your book, rising to your feet to walk to your door and send a servant for tea, when you heard your guard call out through the thick wooden door, startled.

“Your Highness?”

Frowning, you were about to reply, half-wondering if the guard had heard you approaching, when another response stopped you dead in your tracks.

“Open the door.”

That was Minho’s voice. Loud, clear and incensed.

You’d never heard him speak like that before.

You could tell just how startled the guard was at his tone of voice, as he scrambled to respond. “I-I…Your Highness, is something-”

“Open it, that’s an order.”

You knew that tone was meant to intimidate. You wondered if, at another time, in another life, you might have been shaken by it as much as your guard.

But now, in this moment, all it did was…irritate you.

You were tired, that was true, but that also meant you had no patience for whatever games Minho was about to play.

The doors swung open with no small amount of fumbling from the guard, and you lifted your chin, prepared to face Minho’s apparent wrath head-on.

Only to be met with burning eyes and a frightfully pale face as he hurried into your rooms, gaze searching and then fixed upon you.

You opened your mouth. “What-”

“Is something wrong?” Minho demanded, his words almost rushed. His eyes keep searching you, roaming your figure from head to toe, as if just the sight of you could answer his question.

You were bewildered. Utterly bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“I was told you were with my father’s physicians all evening,” Minho told you, and you bristled at the way he phrased it, as if it were an accusation. “And you didn’t think to tell me? I had to find it out from a steward.”

It was astonishing, really. How perfectly Minho could enrage you with so little effort. He spoke as if you had chosen to subject yourself to such embarrassment, as if you had purposefully hidden it from him, as if everything was always your fault.

“So, what is it? Illness? Something from the orchards? You seemed healthy enough that day. Something else?”

The orchards. You blistered at the reminder, a day when you had thought you and Minho had made some kind of progress. It made this sting all the more, as he stormed in here and made demands, not even allowing you a moment to speak–

“What? Are you concerned?” You scoffed. It was a rhetorical question, dripping with cynicism.

And yet, something in Minho’s body language faltered. He tensed slightly, shoulders straightening just a touch. There was a look in his eye, one of indignation so strong it almost bordered on offence.

You realised.

He was. He was concerned.

Minho scowled, aware that he’d let his mask slip just slightly, and apparently displeased by it. “Is that really a surprising reaction?”

“From you? Yes,” you stated bluntly, letting your harsh words hit him as intended. You might have reached some strange new understanding with Minho, but that didn’t erase the weeks he spent disregarding your feelings. You couldn’t let him sit by and pretend there was no lingering misgivings between the two of you.

You gestured to the door, continuing. “And that’s no cause for you to scream at my guards.”

“I didn’t scream–”

“What good does that do, anyway? Forcing your way in here?”

Minho hesitated. There was a brief flicker of something in his eyes, as his mask slipped yet again. Something sad.

He looked away.

You stared at Minho, who seemed determined not to meet your eyes, as it all finally made sense.

The anger, the impatience, the way his gaze had burned through you as he tried to determine what exactly was wrong.

His words from your wedding day, all those weeks ago, rang clear in your mind.

No. They didn’t know if the illness could spread, so I was kept away.

“They weren’t checking me for illness,” you assured him, voice softening. “I’m fine. Perfectly healthy.”

At your words, Minho turned his attention back to you – looking incredibly sceptical. “You spent an evening with my father’s best physicians, and not one checked for illness?”

“No,” you said, simply, very pointedly looking at him. The answer was so obvious, did you even need to say it out loud? Surely, you didn’t need to. Surely, Minho was a smart enough man to work it out for himself.

His expression didn’t change. “Then, what–”

“Pregnancy,” you interrupted, practically through gritted teeth. “They wanted to know if I was pregnant. Of course they wanted to know if I was pregnant, you dimwit.”

Minho froze.

Not at the insult – you were fairly certain it had completely washed over him, he had stiffened long before that.

He just…stared at you, colour bleeding from his face.

It was almost as if he had forgotten such a thing was possible. Your wedding night seemed so far away, like a strange distant dream. You wondered, sourly, if he even remembered what had transpired. What he’d done. What you both had done. You wondered if it were so small a thing to him, it slipped his mind entirely.

No. No, that didn’t seem right. He must remember, because why else would he treat you so strangely? Why did he continue to hold you at arm’s length, refuse to share a bed with you?

He remembered. Your pride wouldn’t stomach to ask what his opinion on it was, but he remembered.

When he spoke, it was halting. The words seemed to stumble out from him, clumsy on his tongue.

“…Are you?”

There was no anger in it. No resentment, no trepidation. No great joy at the idea of fatherhood either, but you were quite thankful for that.

No, it was…

Vulnerable.

The spiteful part of you wanted to keep him waiting, to draw him out on tenterhooks and make him suffer the suspense a little longer. To let that mind race, as it was so clearly doing now. To let him panic, fear, make him hold that breath as long as he could.

Maybe you would have, once.

But now, it seemed…

It…

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to appear unruffled, as if the conversation was entirely unimportant. “No, I’m not. That was why they kept me so long, they wanted to give me every test under the sun.”

You expected him to be relieved by the news.

Instead, his thoughts seemed just as chaotic as ever.

You wondered if this conversation – this brief moment of possibility – had opened a sort of Pandora’s box for him. If it had instilled in him a new thought that he could never shake again.

It unsettled you. You had spent weeks trying to face this same reality of children, but watching Minho – the unflappable Minho – visibly falter at the very same prospect sent panic rushing through you. You didn’t want to know what he thought of it, you didn’t want to know how he would come to think it, you didn’t want him to be here thinking at all.

“If that’s everything, I would ask you to leave,” you said firmly, turning away from him. “The day has been long, and our interactions are always…”

The end of the sentence lingered on your tongue, not quite able to be voiced aloud but certainly echoing in your thoughts.

Tiring. Confusing. Complicated.

Minho was still looking at you. He hadn’t yet shaken that paleness, that moment of shock. Once, you delighted in the idea of unsettling him like this.

Now, you found yourself biting back assurances. Assurances that you were not pregnant, that you had disappointed all those physicians and that you will continue to disappoint them, that there was nothing so solid and tangible as a child to bind the two of you together.

Nothing had changed, you wanted to shout at him, and why did he need to even be told this?

“Difficult,” you finished.

The weight of the furs around your neck grew with every passing second, pressing down on you, stifling. You had forgotten just how you must look to Minho, clutching these furs to you, as if you were some pathetic wretch clinging to his memory.

You thought for a moment of bundling them up in your arms and shoving them back into Minho’s arms. And yet, your grip around them tightened.

From behind you, you heard Minho speak.

“Yes. They always are,” he said, perfectly toneless, and you forced yourself not to flinch at the sting of his words.

He was only agreeing with you, after all.

The next morning, your breakfast was interrupted by an urgent summons from the king.

It wasn’t hard to determine the reason why.

No doubt he had been informed by the physicians that you weren’t with child. Whatever patience he seemed to have with the you and Minho, this news had apparently worn it away completely.

You turned this thought over and over again in your mind, as you were led to the king by stone-faced guards. You had never tried to venture into these innermost quarters of the palace, so it was with mild curiosity that you noted the narrowness of the passages, the worn stone flooring, the low ceiling that loomed overhead.

These were the oldest parts of the palace, built centuries ago. Easy to defend, as attackers could barely squeeze through its passages with more than two men side-by-side.

Generations of Minho’s ancestors had walked these halls, slumbered in these quarters, had eaten and talked and breathed here. It was strange to imagine that one day, Minho would do the same. You tried to picture him in this claustrophobic space, ruling a kingdom from behind these ancient walls.

As you drew nearer to a thick, heavy-looking wooden door, you heard the briefest snatch of conversation.

“And what would you have me do?”

And then, your guard reached out and pulled open the door, ridding you of an opportunity to eavesdrop.

Instead, you were forced to enter the room with your head held high, to find the king seated - and Minho stood, half-turned on his heel as if you had interrupted him pacing.

You could tell from one glance at his expression that he hadn’t expected to see you here.

The king, on the other hand, smiled at your arrival. You never knew what to think when you looked at His Majesty. When he smiled, you saw Felix in him. When he frowned, you only saw Minho.

You bowed your head, as tradition demanded, and your gaze focused on the cold, flat stone under your feet as you tried to collect your thoughts. The two of you were clearly here to be reprimanded, but Minho’s surprise to see you was interesting.

“Rise,” the king told you, with an errant wave of his hand. He didn’t sound particularly angry, but there was a touch of exasperation. “We can dispense with the formalities for now. It appears we have much to discuss.”

Behind you, Minho scoffed. “I doubt this is going to be much of a discussion.”

The king ignored him, and instead turned to you. “Minho’s told me some concerning things about you.”

You jerked back in shock, before your temper flared. You spun immediately to glare at Minho, infuriated. “Oh, has he?”

Minho seemed entirely unruffled by your anger, still looking at his father. “I don’t recall ever saying it concerned me.”

“It should,” the king told him, matching his cool stare measure for measure. “It concerns me, at least.”

It seemed that being irritatingly cryptic was a family trait. You glanced back and forth between father and son, trying hard to control your temper. “And what exactly did Minho say?”

The king’s gaze shifted towards you, perfectly neutral. “My son told me you were hesitant to fulfil your marital duties.”

You stared back, just for a second, comprehending his words, before a searing bolt of rage erupted within you.

Hesitant. Hesitant.

You had been hesitant? You?

You, who had swallowed your pride so many times to ask why he wouldn’t share his bed? That was hesitant? What did he want you to do exactly? Throw yourself at his feet and beg for him? Beg for his attention and soft touches and–

You must have been visibly bristling with anger at this point, as you glared over at Minho once again. “I see.”

Minho still refused to look at you. You were so very, very close to grabbing his head and forcing him to.

Instead, you watched as he frowned slightly, and corrected his father. “I didn’t use the word ‘hesitant’–”

Over a decade of proper etiquette training was the only thing keeping your voice at an acceptable volume and tone as you asked. “What words did you use, exactly?”

Minho finally turned to look at you, and you watched him square his shoulders, as if readying a defensive position. “I said you were still young, and uncertain.”

“She’s old enough to marry. Your mother and I were both younger than her when we wed,” the king argued, but there was no sharpness to his tone. It sounded almost weary, as if this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. “And all new brides are uncertain. It’s your duty to correct that.”

Minho’s expression soured at his father’s words, as if he resented the very thought.

As if it were some chore he had hoped to put off dealing with for as long as he could.

No.

I’m lacking. Not you.

Lacking a spine, perhaps. Lacking any ounce of sense, or decency.

You would not allow Minho to paint you as some small, timid creature to shift his father’s blame away from him.

You needed to be careful, to avoid telling the king outright that his son was a dirty liar looking to save his own skin – but you would not leave this room while Minho’s version of events remained intact.

And so, with one final deep breath, you lowered yourself, dropping to your knees and bowing your head to Minho. “I’m sorry.”

You could practically feel Minho’s alarm at your sudden new state. At the very edges of your vision, you watched his balance shift slightly, as if he were about to take a step forward. Or back.

You continued. “I’m sorry that you mistook my nerves on our wedding night for any kind of distress. I am sorry that you felt you could not carry out your duties without doing me harm.”

You lifted your head. You knew that you were angled just far enough away from the king that only Minho could see the expression on your face.

Only Minho could see that there was not one ounce of apology in your glare.

“I should have come to you sooner about this,” you said, staring Minho down as you both knew you had. “I should have asked if you had any reservations,” you had, “and I should have asked why you didn’t wish to share a bedchamber,” you had, “and tried to rectify any problems between us before His Majesty had cause to worry.”

Minho’s eyes were fixed on yours, recognising exactly what you were doing.

You wondered if he could sense the trap you had laid, and how it now began to close around him.

“Please know that I have no concerns about you, or our marriage, Minho. If you still wish to keep separate chambers, I assure you, that would only be your wish. Not mine.”

Minho’s expression hardened, as he realised what you had done.

Your eyes went wide, doe-eyed and innocent as you smiled at him – and challenged him to just try to worm his way out from under the blame you had thrown onto him.

“Well, I suppose that settles it,” the king declared, voice light and cheerful. “I’ll tell the stewards to start moving her belongings at once. Unless you have a problem with that, Minho?”

Minho’s gaze didn’t so much as flicker away from yours, even as he finally spoke. “…No. Clearly, I don’t.”

Minho’s chambers were just as you remembered them.

You looked around the room, silent in thought, as the steward ran through the most vital points of information.

“I’m afraid His Highness insists on having no servants enter his chambers before midday without explicit invitation. You’re free to discuss any changes to this instruction with him, but until then, your maids must be summoned by you personally to help dress you in the mornings.”

Minho really did seem to value his privacy. Between this and his continuous refusal to move you into his chambers, you had to wonder just how much Minho preferred to keep to himself.

“Breakfast will be brought here upon request. Lunch and dinner will be served wherever in the castle you ask for it.”

The steward gave you a polite smile and gestured to the door off to the left of the room. “Through there is a dining area, for when you wish to take your meals in the privacy of your own chambers.”

“I see,” you said, glancing towards the door. “Does Minho usually take his meals in there?”

The steward blinked, considering the question for a moment, before answering. “Breakfast sometimes. But usually, His Highness takes his lunch and dinner in his office.”

You hummed in displeasure. Of course he did. “Well, of course, not today. I would hope His Highness has the courtesy of joining his wife for her first meal in his chambers. I’m sure he would hate the idea of me eating alone.”

Just a touch confused, the steward nodded along. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“But just in case,” you continued, smiling sweetly. “Could you pass along my request to him? Tell him I’d love the pleasure of his company this evening.”

“I…I can, but His Highness is always quite busy in the evenings–”

“I don’t doubt it. But I would ask you to pass along the request anyway,” you cut him off, perfectly polite. “It would mean a lot to me.”

While still slightly hesitant, the steward nodded his head. “Very well. Is there anything else I can assist you with, Your Highness?”

“No, I think that’s everything for now. Thank you for all your help.”

After another exchange of pleasantries, the steward finally left – and you were free to really take a look at your new chambers.

There were certain elements you remembered from your wedding night. The steady, flickering flames in the fireplace, warming a room that – with its stone floor and large windows – would have otherwise chilled you to the bone. You recognised the plush chairs, the low table, even the little bowl of grapes. Clearly a favourite snack of Minho’s.

Your gaze roamed over the features of the room that you had overlooked all those nights ago. The dresser, the tall bookcase – which, as you looked a little closer, you realised had already been filled with your own collection of books.

You very purposefully ignored the bed, and all the memories it dragged to the surface. You very purposefully would notthink of the last time you had been in that bed.

There was no desk to sit at, unlike your previous chambers, but that could always be amended. Until then, there was a perfectly adequate couch to stretch out on while you studied.

That was how you spent the few hours before dinner, reclining comfortably on the couch with yet another volume of council records in your hand. Princess Jiyoon’s name had appeared in the records of twenty separate council meetings in the two years you had researched so far, and yet not a mention was made of her contributions, or her votes, or her stance on discussed issues. And yet, her name continued to appear, too often to be a simple mistake, or a passing novelty.

It confounded you, and despite all your digging, you failed to find even the barest hint of detail about Jiyoon beyond her name before the attendants arrived with dinner. With great reluctance, you put aside your research and moved to the dining area.

Minho hadn’t shown up. And you hated that you were the tiniest bit disappointed.

Or maybe it was just anger. After everything he’d done this morning with his father, the least he could do was honour this tiny request.

Whatever it was that curled in the pit of your stomach, it only intensified when you sat down, and realised the attendants had set the table for two anyway. You sat, stone-faced, as the attendants served you the tastiest cuts of meat, the most tender selections of greens, filling your plate while Minho’s remained untouched.

It mocked you, the empty chair, the disused plates and cutlery, a grim reminder of what your future would probably hold in this room.

Would every meal be like this? Sitting across from an empty chair and pretending it wasn’t the most pathetic sight?

Perhaps it should have made you sad. But instead, all you felt was that familiar flickering of rage.

How dare he. How dare he–

“Starting without me?”

Your head snapped up, and you blinked at the sight of Minho in the doorway, expression as unreadable as always.

“I…was hungry,” you said, haltingly, still thrown by his sudden appearance. He seemed a touch more dishevelled than he was earlier that morning, probably from the hours he had spent since poring over paperwork and barking orders at officials. There were ink stains on his fingers, you noticed, as if he had come straight from his office.

You swallowed, turning away from him to look at the attendants. “Thank you, but could you please leave us to eat in private? I’m happy to serve the both of us.”

The attendants exchanged a brief glance, but nodded quickly and left the room under your orders, leaving a wide berth around Minho as they hurried past him.

He didn’t even glance at them. He just kept his eyes on you.

“I wasn’t sure you’d even come,” you said, resting your cutlery against your plate. You were trying hard to hide your surprise, but it still managed to slip through into your voice.

Minho paused at the doorway, before lifting his chin and venturing into the room. He stopped at the empty chair in front of you, the one you had been glaring at just moments before, and paused.

With great nonchalance, Minho reached up and undid the ties to his jacket. He let out the smallest of sighs as he slipped out of it, rolling his shoulders slightly as he discarded it onto the chair next to him.

This was the sight of a man who had finished his work for the day, and was now finally unwinding in private. You felt as if you ought to avert your gaze, as if you were watching something you shouldn’t.

Minho finally sat down, and loaded his own plate with ease. “Well, you have me here anyway. Perhaps you could tell me what exactly you wish to do with…how did you phrase it? ‘The pleasure of my company’?”

You swallowed, righting yourself, keeping your head held high. “I wanted to talk to you about this morning.”

“I thought you would,” Minho stated, completely impassive.

“Why did you blame me for us keeping separate bedchambers?” You asked, cutting straight to the point.

Minho’s denial was immediate, instinctive. “I didn’t blame you.”

“You said it was because I was uncertain.”

“That’s not blaming you, that…” Minho sighed, and reached for the pitcher of wine that sat in the centre of the table. “I didn’t say it was because of that. That was from an entirely different conversation.”

“About what?”

Minho didn’t speak for a moment, preferring to instead focus on filling his goblet. You had realised, over the course of your interactions, that Minho seemed to dislike direct questions.

Too bad.

“About what?” You repeated. “What was this different conversation?”

Minho looked up, jaw tightening slightly. “After I dismissed your women’s physician. My father asked why.”

You faltered, trying to absorb this new information. “You dismissed her because…you thought I was uncertain? That night?”

Minho looked back down, and didn’t answer. He took a sip of wine instead, and began to pick at the greens on his plate.

A familiar cold weight formed in the pit of your stomach, a familiar sinking sensation. “You…but you said I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You didn’t,” he reiterated, firmly, raising his head to look you directly in the eye. “It’s not about anything you did.”

“Then, why say it?” You argued, gritting your teeth. “Because I wasn’t uncertain. If I did everything right, like you said.”

“It’s not about–” Minho cut himself off with a huff, closing his eyes. His hand came up to press against his temple, as if he could rub away a growing headache. “It’s not about that. What…exactly did your women’s physician teach you? Do you remember?”

“Of course I do,” you snapped, insulted.

“Explain it to me, then,” Minho challenged you, resting his cheek against his hand as he eyed you.

You felt your face grow hot. Was he doing this on purpose? Trying to embarrass you enough to give up the subject entirely?

You swallowed, refusing to back down. “She talked about logistics, mostly. Positions to…aid conception. And she talked about what you might request, and how to respond to them.”

“And how did she tell you to respond?” Minho asked.

“She…” you felt your nerve slipping, looking at Minho. All you could think about were the demands you were told he might have, and how to please him. Was that what he’d wanted you to do, without needing to ask? “She explained how those acts work. As I said, the basic logistics.”

Minho straightened up, letting his hand fall to the table. He began to drum his fingertips against the smooth wooden surface. “And what did she tell you to do if you were uncomfortable?”

Uncomfortable?

You blinked, thrown for a second, and tried your best to recall that afternoon all those weeks ago. “I…well, the topic didn’t come up.”

“What did she tell you to do if you didn’t want to do those acts?”

That also didn’t come up. In fact, the constant refrain of those lessons were that you should want to please him, that you should want to do your marital duty.

Minho took your silence for the answer it was, and his expression turned severe. “Exactly. I dismissed her because she categorically failed you. Everything she taught you was about lying there and enduring. She told you to take any and all horrors without complaint, and that is why she was dismissed.”

You stared at him for a moment, absorbing his words. Your brow furrowed just a touch, trying to piece this information together. “Are you…what, so you wanted me to complain more?”

Minho exhaled sharply through his nose, turning his head slightly. His lips twitched, and you couldn’t tell if he was hiding a smirk or a scowl. “Forget it.”

His tone was dismissive, as if pointedly ending this conversation topic – and, as always, you ignored him.

“What do you want from me? What can I do?” You demanded. “I’m willing to try, but you have to give me something. You can’t expect me to just…intuit everything.”

“Just…” Minho paused, fingers resuming their impatient tapping against the tabletop as he worked to find a way to voice his thoughts. “I prefer it when you’re honest. When you ask me for things you want, like a tutor. There are times when I can see the gears turning in your head, when you’re scheming a way to please me. Stop.”

“I don’t…” you trailed off, as you realised that wasn’t entirely truthful. You wouldn’t say you always wanted to please Minho, but how many times had you treated a conversation with him like a battle to strategise and win?

“I get enough of that from everyone else. People just constantly trying to sway my opinion. I hate it,” Minho grimaced, as if the very thought left a bad taste in his mouth. “I don’t want to play the same kind of games here. I just want someone unafraid to offend me.”

Behind his words, you sensed the tiniest scrap of vulnerability. This wasn’t some passing whim he was following, or some minor nuisance he wanted to correct. He talked as if the thought had been weighing on his mind for a long time.

It felt strange to acknowledge that vulnerability, and force it to pass you by instead of seizing upon it. Instead, you gave him the smallest of smirks and responded. “Someone unafraid to offend you? I believe I can manage that.”

“I have no doubt,” Minho remarked, and there was a subtle note of amusement in his tone again. “Be honest when you want something of me, or when you don’t. That’s all I’m asking.”

He finished his sentence with a smooth sip of wine, and finally began to eat the cooling dinner in front of him.

You followed suit, picking up your spoon as you moved to sample some of the soup brought to you. It was rich, made from some sort of root vegetable and layered with a subtle warmth of spice. A grounding influence as your mind wandered, turning Minho’s words over and over in your head.

Did you want something of him? It was an almost laughable question.

There was a great many things you wanted. Every one of his actions explained, a lifetime of quiet, a greater sense of respect, engaging conversation, reverence. A delightful image of Minho formed in your mind, on his knees with nothing but apologies flowing between his lips as he promised to treat you as you deserved. You entertained the notion of asking for that, picturing the response you would get in return.

Something you wanted. Something.

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“There is something I want of you.”

Minho stilled. He looked up, eyeing you for a moment, before glancing back down nonchalantly. “Is there?”

“The empty seat on the council,” you said.

Minho blinked, surprise crossing his features. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.

You pressed on. “I want it.”

Minho sat back, his gaze on you once again. “For your father?”

“For me.”

It was a little satisfying, honestly, to see just how shocking you could be. You were prepared for an immediate rejection, maybe even for your request to be treated as a joke. You knew it was outlandish – but if Minho wanted honesty, that was what you were giving him.

“There’s precedent,” you continued. “I was looking over council records with Seungmin. A princess served on the council during King Yongjun’s reign.”

“King Yongjun died nearly two centuries ago,” Minho pointed out, tone irritatingly neutral.

“I didn’t say it was a recent precedent, but it happened. And there are tomes and tomes of physical proof to point to when defending the decision. Princess Jiyoon served on the council, and the kingdom didn’t magically burst into flames.”

With a careless, easy patience, Minho set down his cutlery and leaned forward. His hands came up, fingers interlocking, and he rested his chin against them. “Why you?”

You blinked. “Like I said–”

“Yes, there’s precedent for a woman to sit on the council,” Minho interrupted. Something in his eyes seemed to gleam as he took you in. “I want to know why you should.”

You straightened up, lifting your head in challenge. “Because who else is going to fill that seat? Why is it still empty, when my father is such an��obvious choice for it?”

Minho said nothing, watching you.

“So, clearly, there’s an issue with his appointment. It could be anything, although I’d put money on it being some long-standing grudge between him and the old-money aristocracy already serving. He’s too bold to not have made enemies. But who do you pick if not him?”

“Who, indeed?” Minho asked.

“The only other candidates are all beneath his rank. Choosing one of them would be an insult, and my father’s a powerful man to risk insulting, especially now that his daughter married you. You and your father seem to be in quite the difficult situation. I’m the solution.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m a perfect compromise. Everyone gets to save face,” you pointed out. “And what’s the point of accumulating all this knowledge if I can’t use it?”

That was the question you’d been asking yourself for days now. You had no doubt that you were better educated than half the men advising the king and Minho – so why waste your knowledge?

Minho seemed to think over your words – and you couldn’t help the tiny spark of hope in your chest at the fact that he was taking your proposal so seriously.

“It wouldn’t be an easy time, convincing my father. And there wouldn’t be many happy to see you there,” Minho said. “Council meetings are…unpleasant, on a good day.”

“I can handle unpleasant. I’ve had to sit and drink tea with their wives.”

Finally, finally, Minho cracked a smile.

You returned it, smiling back at him as the mood seemed to lift slightly.

“…I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll bring it up to my father,” Minho promised.

“Thank you,” you replied, unable to keep the warmth out of your voice. Or the surprise, for that matter.

Minho tilted his head, still watching you. “So, is that why you summoned me for dinner?”

Immediately, your mood soured.

“No,” you snapped. “I summoned you because eating dinner alone is so miserable an experience that even spending it with you is…”

Your words halted on your tongue, as you realised belatedly that Minho hadn’t been serious. In fact, as you took in the way his lips twisted into a smirk, and amusement shone in his eyes, you wondered if he was actually…teasing you.

You scowled, going back to your food. “And I expect you here tomorrow, too.”

You didn’t have to look up at him to know that smirk was still firmly in place. “If you insist.”

You kept your preparations for bed as brief as you could, unable to stomach the air of awkwardness that lingered as you did so. Thankfully, you didn’t need to undress in front of him – it seemed Minho had an entirely separate chamber for changing clothes, and you took full advantage of the privacy it afforded as you changed into your nightclothes.

They were modest. Comfortable. Minho had even seen you in them before, on the rare occasions he liked to barge into your old bedchambers. A world away from the silks you’d been wrapped in on your wedding night.

Minho had seen you in less, you tried to tell yourself.

There was the faintest whisper at the back of your mind that reminded you Minho had seen you without a scrap of clothing on, but you very firmly ignored it.

You would not hide in here. You would go into his bedchambers, and sleep in his bed, because now it was also your bed. And you had the right to sleep in your own bed without embarrassment, or guilt, or whatever else your gut was currently churning with.

You swallowed, gathering your resolve, and pushed through the doors to his bedchambers with as much indifference as you could muster.

To your relief, Minho wasn’t waiting in bed. He was sat by the fire, engrossed in his paperwork. He didn’t even spare a glance at you as you entered, nor as you walked past him.

Good.

You made sure to keep your movements calm and smooth as you pulled back his bedcovers and slipped under them. Your bedcovers, you corrected yourself, because this was your bed too.

The pillows under your head were a little firmer than what you were used to. You shifted your weight a little, searching for a more comfortable position. Now that you were lying down, all you could see was the embroidered canopy above you.

You hadn’t paid much attention to it last time.

You had been…distracted.

Immediately, you rolled over onto your side, turning away from the canopy. The cold, stone walls were a far easier alternative to focus on.

Clearing your throat, you closed your eyes as you managed the briefest of pleasantries to Minho. “Good night.”

His response was utterly unbothered. You imagined him still flicking through his papers, barely sparing the situation a second thought. “Good night.”

And that was that.

You didn’t need to say anymore to each other.

Because now you would sleep.

You were determined to sleep. And you were determined to do so quickly, falling into such a deep slumber that you wouldn’t even notice if Minho tried to say anything else.

From across the room, you heard Minho turn a page. The brushing of the paper grated against your eardrum.

You slowed your breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply, willing your body to relax. To drift away.

Another page turned. The fire crackled.

Your breathing, careful and even.

Minho’s weight shifted against the couch. Another page turned.

In the quiet between your breaths, you almost swore you could hear his. The other body in this room.

Such quiet. Such noise.

Your breath. His. Your heartbeat. Too far away to hear his.

Sleep did not come easily. You tossed and turned, eyes closed, and only when you least expected it did it pull you under.

And you dreamed.

Straw tickled the bare nape of your neck, brushing your skin, pressing and retreating with every movement of your head. If you focused on it, you wouldn’t have been able to stand it.

But you were distracted.

There was a boy in your arms. Lean and smiling and blushing.

“They’ll call for us soon. We can’t stay here for long.”

This was the middle. You knew how the ending would go, and how this boy would disappear from your life. This would end with a void at your side and sorrow-tainted childhood memories.

But this was not the ending. This was the middle and here you would stay.

“We can’t stay here for long.”

His lips were sweet, like spun sugar and fruits. You kissed them hard, harder than you ever did when this was real and present. Then, you had been too nervous, too afraid to endanger your future, too assured that you had all the time in the world to love him later.

You had no urgency.

Now, you had urgency.

You turned him around, pinning him up against that loathsome straw, and hoped to keep him there so he would never slip away. His hands were eager and soft and pressing into the small of your back.

The words clogged in your throat, and burned in your mind. You wanted to know. Are you missing me? Do you think of me?

His voice was soft, sweet, as he asked you. “Are you missing me? Do you think of me?”

Your right hand lifted to cup his face gently. When you pulled away, you found your thumb was not stroking softly against freckle-dappled cheeks, but instead smooth, flawless skin.

Minho held you, eyes dark and satisfied, and you balance faltered as he turned the two of you again.

There was never straw with Minho, just soft sheets cool to the touch. Your silks were thin and chafed against your skin. They were impatient – they knew, just as you did, that they would be removed soon enough.

Minho’s hand was on your thigh. It was always on your thigh, it had never left your thigh, how had you not noticed that?

His mouth was on your neck, and your hands fisted in his shirt so tightly, like you could tear it.

You would. You will. It ripped like paper, ink-stained. Your hands were smudged by it.

His hand was travelling up your thigh, under your silks.

Something you wanted of him.

Minho sank to his knees before you. You were standing, he was kneeling, and he moved in to kiss you where his hand had left a trail upwards.

He was calm. So calm. Eyes closed, so unreadable, even as he lifted your skirts. So composed, steadying your shaking legs.

His mouth was as hot and awful and wonderful as you remembered. Your fingers curled in his hair, your body rocked into him, there was heat pooling in your gut.

But his face was cold. His eyes were cold. You tightened your grip in his hair, willing a reaction from him.

Something you wanted of him.

“Want me,” you hissed, as your knees threatened to buckle. The pleasure was swallowing you, drowning you, and you closed your eyes for just a moment. “Want…”

Your eyes snapped open, body jerking in shock. Your legs tried to kick out, but you found them tangled up in sheets, constricting you, and the chill of the room felt like ice against the sweat on your skin.

Your breathing came rushed, panicked. You blinked as you looked around at your surroundings, disoriented.

Minho’s chambers.

Minho’s bed.

A split-second of fear overwhelmed you, and you turned your head sharply, expecting to see a newly awoken Minho next to you, scornful and knowing.

But the bed was empty.

You stared for a moment, trying to comprehend properly in your drowsy state, before sitting up.

It took you a while to spot the slumbering Minho on the couch, still dressed in his day clothes. You blinked at him, bleary-eyed. The fireplace had long since died, leaving the moon as the only source of light, casting a dim glow through the window.

A pile of paper sat on his chest, still waiting to be read. He must have fallen asleep while working. The same things had happened to you many times over the years, as you read late into the night. You wondered how many times, with all his responsibilities as crown prince, it had happened to Minho.

You lay back down, breathing only just starting to calm.

A dream. It had all been a dream.

You swallowed, telling yourself this over and over again. Only a dream. It wasn’t real.

But it had left a very real effect on you.

Your heart was still pounding. Your gut still felt tight, muscles clenched.

And you ached between your legs, as if your senses there hadn’t caught up with your mind, as if your lower half was still so convinced that Minho should be waiting between your legs.

You tried to shift, tried to detangle your legs from the bedcovers, but every movement just…

It felt…

It needed…

You swallowed again, lifting your head slightly to see Minho again. To check.

And then you dropped your head back onto the pillow again, taking one deep nervous breath, and let your hand slip under the covers.

The little experience you had with this had all been Minho, and you tried to summon back the memories of what he’d done, where it felt best.

You found the sensitive part – the best part – almost immediately, and your body physically shuddered upon contact. Your breath escaped you in one gentle sigh.

How did he do it? You closed your eyes, thinking, and you were sent back. Back to when you were here in this very bed, and Minho was on you.

You tried follow his movements, but it all felt too slow. Too slow when it felt this good. Your fingers were so clumsy, stumbling and slipping, but it was too great to just stop.

Beneath, you were slick, and you experimented with sliding a finger inside. It felt a little sore, a little strange, pleasant enough but not as good as focusing above. Your hands were better served – more efficient, an absurd part of your brain argued – elsewhere, back at the sensitive spot.

You found a rhythm, a little stilted and often off-beat, but it was working. Your breaths came harsher, almost like a whisper in your ear. You imagined Minho’s voice, coaxing you through, praising you, that strange mix of edged and soft that had you–

A loud thunk shattered your thoughts, cutting through your mood so swiftly as your heart practically stopped.

He saw. He saw, he–

Panicked, horrified, pulling your hands away so quickly that pain jolted through your wrist, you looked up at Minho.

Asleep.

Eyes closed, face slack. His long lashes cast shadows over his face in the moonlight.

The papers on his chest had fallen to the floor. Perhaps he had shifted in his sleep, or a particularly strong breeze came in through the open window.

Your chest rose and fell, blood roaring in your eyes. That initial rush of shame lingered, your face practically burning. Whatever pleasure you had built up had evaporated, doused with the panic of being caught.

Shakily, you turned over, and buried your face in the pillow – and refused to lift it until morning.

taglist:

@buntrsh @liz820 @sunnyville36 @sleepylixie @healinghyunjin @randombutyeah @aliceu @laikaya @the7thcrow @woofwoofbangbang @lynx-paw @im-questioning-my-existence @mainexiii @springdeity @koroleva--rezni @lee-mickey @pen-paper-ink @bettyschwallocksyee @dandyboyseungminnie @ateliersaab @kawaiiayasan @skzleeknow12 @sweetdreamerranchthing @tae-kook-lover @itshoonie @dokyeomsy @linours @leagreenly @ajxreads @henloiamaweirdobye @malewife-supremacy @maedesculpaeusoubi @cosmiixstars @foxylilbitch @theautumnisnoble @linoscence @jaembby @rdflare51 @lixvs @lananhdn @3no-racha @jaeminie-cricket @ac-ewow @confusedgrl @sooniedoongiedorismum @km-98 @mochisnlix @jannine00742 @leefelex @min-youngis @romancerry @seizabana @baksukii

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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years

Text

PAIRING: Royal!Harry X Maid!Reader

WHAT IT’S ABOUT: Prince Harry is set to take the throne of Eroda in just one short month. There's a lot to do and handle before he becomes king and he plans to focus fully on his royal duties upon returning to his home. However he didn't plan to meet a young maid who is never afraid to stand her ground and even talk back to him with no care about his title or class. And most importantly, he didn't plan to fall for said maid, especially after the circumstances of their first meeting.

👑 PART ONE

👑PART TWO

👑PART THREE

👑PART FOUR

👑PART FIVE

COMPLETED: 2022.05.18.

TOTAL WORD COUNT: 35k

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #royal!harry #king!harry #prince!harry #wonderwall

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moonctzeny · 2 years

Text

F.U.C.K

pairing: enemies to lovers! doyoung x fem! reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 9.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, oral (female receiving), public sex, sex under the influence, praise kink, breathplay, groping, dirty talk, doyoung lifts the reader at some point

summary: “If there was one person you’d imagine taking as a plus one to your cousin’s wedding, it definitely wouldn’t be Doyoung - your definition of a sour know-it-all in flesh and bones. Blame it on your friends that are never there when you need them, or your annoying curiosity for his cold demeanor, but there he is, downing expensive champagne with you.

One glass and you can still stand him.

Two glasses and he’s not so bad after all.

Three glasses and he’s in your bed.

Does the boy drive you mad or are you mad about the boy?”

“This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had in the one year we’ve worked together. I don’t think you're smooth enough to convince me to sleep with you. Besides, didn’t you say you’d never sleep with me like, ten minutes ago?”

“That was different. Now I have something to prove.”

“Which is?”

“That you still find me attractive enough to sleep with me.”

“Please”, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself. In fact, I bet you can’t turn me on even if you tried.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup. You can try. Right now.”

Doyoung goes silent in thought for a couple of seconds, looking more determined than ever when he speaks again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes”, you answer immediately, gulping dryly at the thought of your coworker’s hands on you.

“Okay.”

a/n: This is my extremely late submission to @slightlymore 's Doyoung collab "mad about the boy" <33

general taglist: @naomis-sins , @jjaeyoonoh, @infnteen , @babyksworld, @kaja2016

“What do you mean you only have a room with a double bed?”

Your fingers threaten to rip your hair out with how tight your grip is on your locks, trying your hardest to explain to the young receptionist that you’ve explicitly requested a double room with separate beds. You must look so miserable, huffing and puffing in the lobby of this beautiful summer resort that your cousin booked for her wedding. Stoic and bored, your plus one waits for you to get your room card already, toying with a plastic spider plant next to your luggage in the meantime. As if the whole thing doesn’t bother him in the slightest. As if he doesn’t hate you just as much as you do.

You met Doyoung at the high school you work at. He’s a Physics professor while you teach Math, and for the rest of the teaching faculty this was enough of a reason to convince you to go on a date with each other. “It’s meant to be!”, they’d tell you during break time, urging you to go up to him and ask for his number. Your mouth would gape in shock as they’d recount stories of how fun he was at their birthday party, or how helpful he was in their time of need. A new student would come up to you every week, handing you a hand-written love letter with trembling hands, and ask you to pass it on to their favorite Physics teacher.

What was so great about the guy anyway?

He’s handsome, sure, long limbs and royal stature making him stand out in the crowd. His rich academic career and leading abilities demanded respect from his colleagues, while his youthful face made him approachable to the students. If you wanted something to be done and executed well, you’d leave it up to Mr. Kim. But why should all of this matter to you when the guy hates your guts from the moment he stepped foot in this goddamned school?

You can only conclude he does, with the way he avoids you like the plague. Parent-teacher meetings, field trips, school dance chaperone duties - he’d change and bend the schedule so that he ensures he’s in the same room as you for the least amount of time possible. Your wounded pride combined with his cold demeanor was enough for your silent hatred towards Doyoung to slowly boil in your heart.

Your third cousin’s wedding invitation got shipped to your house on a cold winter night. The ceremony would take place on an island three months from now, while the accommodation and plane tickets would be covered by the couple. She actually used to teach at the same school as you, something that brought the two of you closer, and while you love her to bits you also want to block her on Facebook so, so badly. You can only handle so many posts of her perfect dog and her perfect house and her rich husband that flies her out to Bali every summer before you lose your mind.

When you opened up the envelope, a black tear full of your mascara soiled the pretty handwriting. You were finishing up a bottle of wine, mourning the end of your latest relationship - a personal trainer who convinced you to sign up to his stupid gym and couldn’t make you orgasm even if he had a gun pointed to the back of his head. “Fuck you!”, you screamed at the lifeless piece of cardboard as you drunkenly circle that you will bring a plus one, and he will be much more fun and interesting and hot than the all-purpose flour of a man your cousin’s getting married to.

You only got reminded of your drunken mistake a week before the wedding, when your cousin called you to confirm you’d still make it to the venue with your company. Stressed and confused you said yes, as you’d rather die than admit that it was all due to an unwanted gym membership and a head full of alcohol. Plus, you really wanted to be there on her special day. It wasn’t like you couldn’t find one person to bring along, right?

Wrong. You were stuck on your phone for an entire day, your ear burning from the overuse and the heat of the consecutive rejections from your friends and family. A birthday party, a football game, a baby shower - they were all seemingly more important than a week’s notice destination wedding, each apology pushing you deeper and deeper in your quicksand of desperation.

You moaned about it to one of your teacher friends and fellow wedding invitee that Monday at the break room. You’d all met when your cousin still used to work at the school.

“I’m really sorry y/n. I’d come with you but I’m bringing my husband along”, she cooed apologetically, rubbing your loneliness even harder all over your face. “Why don’t you ask someone from here?”

“No one’s available this weekend”, you sighed out, pointing at the people in the room one by one. “She has a kid, he has vacation leave, her dog is sick, his wife would say no and -“

“I’m free.”

Your finger wavered awkwardly, pointing at the person whose name didn’t even have the chance to leave your lips. Doyoung didn’t move his head in your direction, even though he was addressing you, his hand still robotically grading a student’s test with a red ballpoint pen.

A sharp pain numbed your side as your friend nudged you excitedly, her face stretching out in a suggestive smile.

“See? Mr. Kim will take you! It’s about time you two get to know each other better”

“Oh no you don’t have to!”, you reassured him with a voice two octaves higher in pitch, “I’m sure I’ll find someone -“

“It’s fine”, he interrupted, removing his glasses and finally looking at you. This was one of the very few times his eyes fell on you, and you know this because the same chills run through your spine every time they do, “Think of it as returning the favor for that one week you substituted me when I was sick.”

Now that sounds more like him, calling it even. Not wanting to be indebted to someone he dislikes made sense to you, but spending an entire weekend with them to do so is still a bit much. You opened your mouth to argue back some more, when your friend managed to speak up before you did.

“Great, it’s decided then! As always, Mr. Kim is the man to step up when someone is in need”, she sang and Doyoung flashed his gummy smile at her, the sight so foreign to you that you had to blink twice to make sure you weren’t hallucinating from a caffeine overdose.

The bell rang and with it he got up on his feet, collecting the rest of the papers to be graded and making his way over to your desk. He looked like an Italian supermodel with his expensive slacks and poise in his walk, and when he gave you a small piece of paper with his number written in bright red ink on it, your friend almost passed out in sheer thrill.

“Text me the details, I’ll come to pick you up after work on Friday”

And that he did, carrying your overfilled suitcase with impressive ease all the way to the airport. The ride there was just as awkward as you imagined it to be, with the two of you switching the other’s desired radio station back and forth. It was insufferable just how stubborn he could be, and with every minute of silence you got from him the more it became clear to you that bringing him along was a terrible idea. The plane ride was just as boring. Even his socks annoyed you, grey and lifeless and something your grandpa would wear. Come to think of it, your grandpa would have made a more entertaining plus one than Mr. Downyoung.

Defeatedly, you take the room key from the receptionist and call for Doyoung to follow you to the fourth floor. He refuses to let you carry your luggage to the elevator, making the rest of the hotel staff coo at what they probably thought was a couple starting their summer vacation.

As soon as the mechanical door slides closed you sigh in frustration, rubbing your temples to alleviate some of the tension in your body. You wish you could just travel through time, fast forward the whole three painful days to come until you’re lying comfortably on your bed again.

“It’s impressive, really”, Doyoung deadpans just as you thought you might’ve actually forgotten what his voice sounds like, “You’re a math teacher and you can’t do the simple task of booking the right room.”

“I told you”, you groan, exasperated, “I asked them for twin beds.”

“Well did you call to check again yesterday?”

“No? Why would I bother the couple for something so trivial?”

“Trivial”, he repeats lowly as he stares at the floor buttons glow one by one, the elevator music taunting him. “I’ll sleep on the couch”, he states after a second of silence and follows you down the hallway.

The room was really nice, you admit, decorated modernly and with a beautiful sea view from the big balcony. But there was no couch. Only a luggage rack and an armchair, both too small and uncomfortable for either of you to sleep on. The bed on the other hand was long, perfect for Doyoung’s height but not particularly wide, forcing the accommodated couples to get closer for a couple of nights. You groan at the uncomfortable realization, and slowly start to unpack.

“The wedding rehearsal starts in half an hour”, you remind him as you unzip your suitcase, flipping it open, “we should start getting ready”. He lets out a hum of acknowledgment, and hangs a nicely tailored cobalt blue suit in the available closet space before he grabs another outfit and locks himself in the bathroom. You take this as a chance to quickly change in the bedroom, opting for a light dress that fits the hot climate of the island. You were freshening up your makeup when you hear the lock click open, and then your jaw drops.

You’ve never seen Doyoung look like this in your one year working with him. He’s wearing a patterned shirt, the coral reds of the flowers on it bringing out his porcelain skin beautifully. It is slightly unbuttoned at the top, letting sharp collarbones and a couple of stray hairs peek out, and your imagination takes liberty in heading even more south. You just can’t believe Mr. Kim hid such thighs in those grandpa slacks, a comfortable pair of shorts melting over them now instead.

“What is it?”

His voice jolts you out of your dream zone and your face burns from getting caught. His calculating eyes stare back at you, and your mini dress suddenly makes you feel naked.

“Nothing, you just look- different.”

“Bad different?”

“No no!”, you exclaim, pulling up some more fabric over your decolletage. “I’m just so used to seeing you in those boring black and grey sweaters”

“Ouch. You’re not runway ready either”

“Ugh- You look good!”, you blurt out frustratingly and then yelp, cringing at your slip up. “I just wanted to give you a compliment, damn. Can we go to the main hall now?”

Doyoung thanks you under his breath, muttering something about the color of your dress and reminding you to take the room card with you before you head out.

The wedding hall was absolutely beautiful. Tulle decorations welcomed the guests right off the gate, evening light shone beautifully through the windows. People were bundled together in small social circles, and the foreign faces made you stick even closer to Doyoung’s side. You notice that he’s wearing one of those sweet-smelling body sprays, and the scent is so surprising for him that it excites you.

A female shriek makes you fall with your ass back to reality, and you’re suddenly engulfed in a tight embrace. When you realize it’s your cousin, in a white simple dress that resembles a wedding gown, you relax into her arms, glad to have actually made it.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re here!”, she exclaims in genuine joy, and before you manage to take a breath she already moves onto her next victim.

Doyoung freezes in the hug, not used to your cousin’s affectionate nature and trying his hardest to at least pat her back in the confinement.

“And you brought your boyfriend with you! Oh, he’s so handsome! Are you guys thinking about taking the big step? Y/n, you better squeeze your way forward during the bouquet toss-“

“He’s my friend!”, you interrupt her, your heart pounding from the series of inappropriate questions. Doyoung snickers at the word ‘friend’ but you ignore him, focusing solely on your cousin once again. “He’s my coworker, actually. Doyoung’s a Physics teacher.”

“Ohh, I see. You say physics but I see a lot of chemistry between you two~”, she lilts suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows in the process. “Wait- is that Mr. Kim? The new, hot, young teacher that you told me all about?”

Fuck, you forgot about that. A couple of months after your cousin moved schools she’d suggested you go out for a drink or two to catch up. Things were still new with Doyoung and your first impressions were quite good, especially considering his looks. You may have gotten a little drunk that night and spilled way more than you should’ve.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“The Physics teacher, yes! My replacement! You said how he’s all serious and proper and probably nasty in be-“

“Y/n! Mr. Kim!”

The sound of your coworker’s voice sounds like honey to your ears as it interrupts the embarrassing conversation, and you use up the extra time it takes for her and her husband to greet the bride to cool yourself down. You still haven’t checked up on Doyoung, you don’t dare to look at him, and you can only hope he somehow didn’t finish the rest of that sentence in his head.

“I was just chatting up with my cousin’s plus one over here, so tell me- is it true that they came as friends? I don’t buy it.”

“If anything there’s always a lovers’ quarrel between the two.”

“I work better in more organized environments”, Doyoung butts in. You can’t keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

“And I work better with people who actually take the time to talk to me. You know, the bare minimum.”

“Oh come on y/n”, your coworker nags as she stands between the two of you, looping each hand through one of your elbows, “didn’t you say the other day that he was frustratingly fuckable?”

“You must’ve misheard me”, you murmur from her left side, “I probably said he is irresistibly punchable.”

“And you, Mr. Kim. Don’t pretend like you didn’t ask me if y/n was single on your first week at the school.”

Your head snaps at the speed of light, eyes studying the man who hardly wobbles on his two feet under the weight of the accusation. Why on earth would he ask if you were single? Why would someone who barely handles being in the same room as you even care about that? The signals were mixed, swirling with each other inside your head and you have to order your heart to stop beating so loudly before someone hears.

“Leave the kids alone”, the husband sighs, just a little more exhausted from the conversation than you, “don’t mingle in their personal business”

“We’re just happy they’re spending some quality time together”, your cousin says, and you wonder which part of the silent airplane trip or elevator argument would even qualify as that, “How about you all take your designated seats now?”

You shuffle with Doyoung through the row of wooden chairs, searching for your names in the printed papers that lay over each of them. You don’t comment on the previous conversation, at least not until you’re seated, not sure which one of you will be more flustered at the mention of what was said.

“So we’re friends, huh?”

“You’re the one who offered to come with me to this damn wedding. Don’t act as if I dragged you here.”

“I just saw someone needing my help and I-“

“I’m not your damsel in distress.”

Your icy tone makes him flinch and he loosens one more button of his shirt, in need of more air. The exposure of his skin makes the atmosphere feel stuffy, and it’s easier to blame it on the humid climate of the island than the indisputable sexual attraction you have towards him. Why did his thighs have to look so damn good in the middle of an argument?

He’s about to say something back when the bride-to-be slowly starts walking down the aisle. Everyone is in their casual clothing, someone’s unruly child cries in the background. The wedding planners are running around in pure anxiety to get everything right, yet the sight is still undeniably beautiful. You notice your aunt tearing up in the background, and you cannot blame her. Your cousin is absolutely glowing even in her simple slip dress, smile beaming as she locks eyes with her fiancé. There’s a clear moment of realization in their eyes, like the fact that they’re about to start a new chapter in their life finally kicked in.

You steal a quick glance at Doyoung, curious of his reaction. He’s probably thinking of how little they’ll last. How marriage is a stupid little social construct. How no woman could ever be a match for a great brain like-

“Doyoung, are you crying?”

Your date jumps at the sudden interrogating question, quickly rubbing the wet corners of his eyes with the thin fabric covering his shoulders.

“It’s a beautiful moment”, he sniffles, and clears his throat after his voice cracks a little. You still stare at him incredulously. “What? Are you that shocked that I have a heart?”

“Kinda.”

The morning light kisses your eyelashes through the window, forcing them to part. The first sound that your ears pick up is that of running water, nicely mixed with the birds’ song coming through the window. Checking your phone, you realize you overslept, with the wedding being only a couple of hours away. You’re lying right in the middle of the double bed, your roommate already awake and taking a morning shower, apparently.

Last night’s events flash before your eyes like a film strip. Remnants of embarrassment from having to ask for three extra pillows from the reception desk warm up your cheeks. Then the both of you, two fully grown adults, went up to your room to line them up in one straight pillowy border that separated the double bed evenly. Your blood boils at the memory of Doyoung telling you, a math teacher, that you weren’t dividing the mattress into two even halves. “I wish I could split you into two even halves”, was the last thing you remember murmuring before falling asleep. Curious, you look around for the missing pillows, noticing they’re scattered on the floor, and that is when the bathroom doorknob turns.

The first thing you notice is Doyoung’s naked torso, toned abs and tiny waist triggering your eyes to close. You feel him move towards the center of the room, and when he turns around to look for something in the closet you squint your right eye open to steal a peek. His hair is damp, waterdrops falling from the edge of his locks and dancing over his shoulder blades. You follow one as it travels down from his broad shoulders to the deep line of his spine, landing on the towel that hangs lowly from his hipbones. He bends over then, showing off a nice outline of his ass, and you are so invested in the view that you barely manage to go back to feigning to being asleep when he walks towards you.

You feel the bed dip next to you, and a little droplet of water falls on your cheek. His chuckle almost startles you as you fake deep, steady breaths.

“You know, I never pictured you to be a cuddler.”

Pretending not to hear him, you keep your eyes shut tight, yet you can’t stop the blood from accumulating on your face.

“As soon as you fell asleep you threw all the pillows to the floor and grabbed on my waist like a koala. It was cute.”

Cute.

The urge to scream and hide and ask about the details of your embarrassing actions was overwhelming. You can feel his hot breath as he examines your face closer, begging your racing heart to calm down when he chuckles again. A small yelp leaves your lips when you feel a towel thrown at your body, convinced that it is the same one you wished would magically slip off of Doyoung’s hips a minute ago. Opening your eyes, you see his lower body covered still, and yours veiled with a clean hotel robe.

“Stop playing dead, you’re a terrible actress. You should go get a shower now if you don’t want us to miss the wedding.”

You swirl the champagne around in your glass, staring at the bubbles that float to the top until they burst one by one.

The ceremony went as smoothly as the rehearsal, with the sky staying bright and the bride looking brighter. Nighttime came already, and everyone had now settled down for the reception, gathering around their designated tables. Your eyes wander away from your drink for a while, focusing on Doyoung’s lithe fingers instead. They toy with a small baby’s breath from the bundle of flowers you caught earlier during the bouquet toss: your cousin couldn’t have aimed at the top of your head better even if she was a javelin throw champion.

The mere sound of his breathing next to you annoys you at this point. By the end of the night, there wasn’t a single guest at this damn wedding that didn’t gush over your date. Why the hell did he act so completely different when he was around you? What kind of sick satisfaction did he get for being an ass?

“Are you ready to address your little problem?”

You feel the little hairs on the nape of your neck rise up as his low voice grazes your ears.

“What problem?”

“Your little staring problem. Staring at me to be exact.”

Instantaneously, you rip your gaze away from his hands, glaring at the glass in front of you instead as if it was the most interesting thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t try to catch me naked this morning.”

“Excuse me?”, you shriek before lowering your voice after collecting a few worried stares from the people at your table, “I didn’t ‘try to catch’ you. You got out of that bathroom barely naked on your own!”

“Oh?”, he feigns surprise, his lips forming into a smirk that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to kiss or punch off his face, “I thought you were asleep?”

“I was trying to save us both from the embarrassment”, you mutter under your breath, placing the back of your palms on your cheeks to force your face to cool down.

“In my defense, I didn’t know you’d wake up anytime soon. You were snoring really loudly.”

“So while I was sleeping I snored, threw the pillows off the bed, and cuddled you”, you groan, exasperated. A numb headache was moving slowly but steadily from the inside of your brain outwards, and you try to shut it out by pouring yourself another glass of champagne. “Great. Anything else?”

“Stop drinking so much”, Doyoung scolds you, grabbing the bottle out of your grasp just as you manage to fill your glass to the rim.

“Doyoung. I had at least ten people today ask me when I’m getting married when I don’t even have a boyfriend, and now I’m stuck in this lame wedding reception with a person who hates my guts. I am going to drink. Now if you pulled that stick out of your ass and had a glass yourself maybe we’d even manage to have some fun instead of subjecting me to that nonstop nagging of yours.”

“You tried to kiss me.”

“What?”

“Last night, in your sleep. You tried to kiss me.”

Frustrated with the situation you found yourself in and completely embarrassed, you have no other choice but to take a brave sip of the champagne you just served, emptying half a glass.

“Guess I’m doing charity while sleeping. If you’d experienced the loving touch of a woman maybe you wouldn’t be such a dick.”

“When your friend said that you were wild in bed I didn’t think that practically attacking me in my sleep was what she meant.”, he fired back, ignoring your insult.

“Did she tell you that before or after you asked her if I was single?”

“Like I would ever sleep with you. You’re insufferable.”

“Please. You’d probably cry after I was done.”

Doyoung scoffs and grabs the champagne bottle again, this time filling a glass for himself. He downs the drink in one go, and the burning in his throat fires a new passion inside him.

“Fine. You want us to have fun? Let’s play a game then.”

“A game?”

“Yes”, he replies, determined, and fills both of your glasses again. “We’ll ask each other questions. It can be anything, but we’ll answer genuinely. If you don’t want to answer, you drink. Got it?”

“Fine, but I’ll go first.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you offer to come with me to this wedding? And I want a real answer.”

“Do you really think I hate you so much?”

“You can’t answer my question with a question!”

“Technically, it’s a clarification. Doesn’t count.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying”, you groan, wondering if it’d be against the rules to drink even if you don’t lose a round, “You barely talk to me at the school, you avoid me and argue with me on practically anything. So I’d say yes: I do think you really hate me that much.”

He sighs and withers in his seat a little, looking regretful.

“I don’t hate you. I think you’re a good friend. And a brilliant teacher. And you can be fun when you want to be. That’s why I came with you to the wedding.”

“You still haven’t stopped arguing with me since we came here though.”

Doyoung shrugs.

“It’s hot when you talk back.”

He doesn’t look at you, his hands and eyes occupied on the baby’s breath from earlier to ease his nerves. Just as you open your mouth to say something, he asks you a question.

“Why didn’t you say anything after I came out of the bathroom this morning? You know, to let me know you were awake? I truly thought you’d be sleeping. I mean, you yell at me for way less.”

For a passing moment, you consider drinking and opting out from giving an answer. Your hand twitches and almost reaches out to the champagne in front of you, yet eventually, you decide against it. The questions will probably get gradually harder anyways.

“At first I saw all the pillows on the floor. I was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, the door opened and I panicked. And then…”

You hesitate to continue further.

“We said truthfully, remember?”

You exhale a deep breath out.

“Then I saw how you looked fresh out of the shower.”

“And?”

“And I wanted to look at you a little more.”

Doyoung hums, the corner of his lips tugging up subtly.

“If you don’t actually hate me, why do you avoid me at work? And don’t you dare deny it.”

The man next to you laughs, dropping his head back and letting his black locks hang freely. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol that’s heightened your senses, but you submerge yourself in the silvery sound of his laughter. You stare at the pretty blue veins on the side of his neck, watching his adam’s apple bob up and down. When he smiles like that he looks nice, you think. Mellow.

“I take my work very seriously. I want to do things well. And when you’re around, I can’t do that. You distract me, I guess.”

“I distract you? How?”

Doyoung’s eyes rake at your body twice, suddenly making you overconscious of every inch of skin that the mini dress you chose to wear tonight manages to cover up. Or rather, the parts of your body that it doesn’t.

He doesn’t answer further, drinking instead. You can see his eyes getting glossy from the alcohol, his pupils dilated. You’re certain you look like that as well.

“My turn. At the rehearsal, you were shocked that I teared up. Do you not believe in marriage?”

“I don’t know about marriage”, you admit after pondering for a bit, “But I do believe in lifelong partners. Do you?”

“I want one”, he confesses, “But I don’t know if I’m meant to have one.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know”, he sighs almost defeatedly, a bitter smile on his face, “I’m scared of that level of happiness, I think. I tend to avoid love.”

You both take a drink out of your glasses, feeling like it’s needed after a conversation like this. As you wait for Doyoung to come up with another question, you gaze at your cousin and her husband slow dancing in the distance. The sight triggers a stinging feeling of longing inside you, pulling on your heartstrings.

“Did you really say I was ‘irresistibly fuckable’?”

You blink three times at the unexpected question, cursing your friend under your breath and her big mouth. The kick that the champagne gave you allows you to answer way more bravely than you normally would.

“I think we’ve made it clear by now that we both found the other attractive when we first met.”

“When we first met? Not anymore?”

“That was different. Now I have something to prove.”

“Which is?”

“That you still find me attractive enough to sleep with me.”

“Please”, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself. In fact, I bet you can’t turn me on even if you tried.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup. You can try. Right now.”

Doyoung goes silent in thought for a couple of seconds, looking more determined than ever when he speaks again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes”, you answer immediately, gulping dryly at the thought of your coworker’s hands on you.

“Okay.”

The first thing he does is grab the apron of your chair, dragging you closer to him. Worried, you look around you for the reaction of the people also sitting at your table. No one seems to really pay attention to you; some of them had already withdrawn back to their rooms, the rest focusing on the people grooving on the dancefloor. The cool night breeze grazes your bare arms, making you shiver.

“Relax”, Doyoung tells you softly while taking off his jacket. You watch entranced at his shirt hugging his chest, the white fabric stretching over his biceps. His fingertips pet your nape then, sweeping your hair to the side before throwing his jacket over your shoulders. The heat emitted from his body warms up your side, making you melt in your seat.

And then he places his left hand on your knee under the table. Closing the small distance between you, he lets his lips touch lightly the shell of your ear.

“Tell me when to stop.”

He starts off relatively gently, drawing circles on your bare skin with his thumb. You look at how short the skirt of your dress is, regretting your decision to leave your thighs exposed like that. You’re making his job so much easier.

“You like that?”, he asks you then, the rasp of his voice sending another shiver down your spine.

“It’s indifferent to me”, you lie, making him laugh.

“God, why are you so tense? To quote you, if you pulled that stick out of your ass maybe we’d even manage to have some fun.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“You’re into anal baby?”

“I-”

Doyoung laughs again, his gummy smile contagious. His naughty kind of humor surprises you, and the nickname sends a wave of warmth to your face. A small moan leaves your lips as he drags his nails lightly against your skin.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

His fingers move up higher, to the fleshier part of your thighs. He keeps drawing the same design over your sensitive skin, and you soon realize that it’s actually his name.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“W-What?”

“I didn’t think anything could top that summer dress you put on yesterday. But then you wore this-”

He points vaguely at your black strapless dress, eyes dark as they take you in.

“You like it?”, you ask boldly, not easily intimidated.

“I’d rip it off of you in a heartbeat if you let me.”

You squirm in your seat at his words, feeling wetness pool between your thighs. Desperate, you cross your legs to discreetly rub your thighs together, hiding your arousal from the sharp observer next to you. Doyoung doesn’t let you off the hook, kissing his teeth disapprovingly at your movement.

“Did I give you permission to do that?”

“You’re not the boss of me, Kim Doyoung.”

You’re almost panting under the pressure of his stare, feline eyes commanding you to do as he says. His hands squeeze the meat of your thighs in a warning, making the rings he wears dig deeper into your skin.

“I won’t ask again. Spread those little thighs for me.”

Feeling small, you uncross your legs back to their previous position, parting them slightly.

“Good girl.”

All your thoughts evaporate in an instant when you hear him praise you. As his fingers move to the highest part of your inner thighs, just a few inches away from the place that aches to have him most, you can only hope he mercies you. You barely make the conscious effort of biting your tongue to not make a sound and attract unwanted attention. The tablecloth can only hide so much.

“So, are you ready to address your little problem?”

“My staring problem?”

“I was talking about the one between your legs this time. You’re soaking.”

A needy sound from the back of your throat reaches Doyoung’s ears, breathy and desperate - exactly like he wanted to have you.

“You sure moan a lot at my ‘indifferent’ touches.”

His fingers still pet your inner thighs, reaching the crease of your hips now. You can feel his digits spreading your wetness around, fully dipped under your dress.

“All this mess for me? How cute.”

You’re on the verge of losing your mind, right in front of all these people, especially when his index hovers right over your-

“Enough!”, you squeal before he gets the chance to gain full control of you, admitting defeat. Doyoung retracts his hand slowly, almost disappointedly, with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

When you see him lift his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, you can only finish your glass of champagne to cope.

You were two of the last people to leave that ceremony, your little game keeping you occupied. The small path to your hotel room was void of any people, with only the sound of your heels interrupting the lulling sounds of the night. You almost trip in your step and you blame it on the wet poolside tiles, yet you know that that’s not the reason. Doyoung’s suit jacket is still hanging comfortably from your shoulders, his scent coiling around your body and making your head buzz even harder.

In a moment of forgetfulness, you get an intrusive thought asking you where you’d kept your room key. Halting abruptly, you start looking through the contents of the tiny bag you dragged along in panic, Doyoung staring at you questioningly.

“I can’t find the room key.”

“You asked me to hold it, remember?”, he reminds you calmly, fishing the keycard from his slacks before putting it back in his pocket.

You sigh, exhausted. “You’re right, sorry”

“You seem distracted”, Doyoung observes, “Is it because you lost the bet?”

The clacking of your heels stops again.

“What? I didn’t lose!”

“You let me touch you, I did. You liked it and asked me to stop because you couldn’t handle it. I think this qualifies as a win.”

“I couldn’t handle what?”

“It felt too good'', he shrugs.

“Right”, you spit sarcastically, knowing damn well he’s right but still arguing with him like it’s a reflex. “I was worried I was gonna cum from you rubbing my knee so hard. Oh Doyoung, don’t tell me that’s where you think the clit is.”

The man addressed kisses his teeth, trying to ignore how good you look in his jacket and how the ripples of the pool water illuminate your face. You’re overwhelmed by the animalistic instinct to keep the argument going, wishing it turns into something else. The champagne made you both a little too bold.

“Like you could do any better.”

“I absolutely could.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d have you begging for it.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Before any logic manages to make its way to the decision-making part of your brain, you shove Doyoung to the nearest wall, pushing your body against his. He smells even nicer in this proximity, the scent of his aftershave added to the things that mess up your thinking, yet you don’t let that distract you from your goal. Taking his larger hands in yours, you guide them across your waist to your lower back, right over your ass.

“You talk a big talk for someone who admitted to wanting to rip my dress off of me tonight.”

The man swallows dryly, eyes staring down at your exposed chest. You see his eyes open wide for a second before diverting his attention to the pool in the back, anything to take his focus off of you. The hardness that is poking your thigh is telling enough. You grab his chin, making him look at you again.

“You’re making this very hard for yourself by pretending like you don’t want me, Kim.” Determined, you start a line of kisses across his jawline, sucking lightly on the skin below his earlobe. The moan he lets out makes your knees shake a little. “Say you want me, and I’m yours.”

Unable to contain himself, Doyoung lowers his hands enough to grab your ass. You mewl in his ear at his roughness, just to taunt him.

“Shit, y/n.”

“I’m not wearing any underwear, thought you’d like to know.”

You can’t look at his pretty face, yours still buried in his neck, but you can clearly sense the torment he feels.

Finally, he gives up.

“Fuck this”, he mutters, pulling you into a kiss.

Doyoung moves his lips against yours deeply, with need, like he knows he’s never gonna get enough. You kiss him back just as eagerly, letting your tongue slide against his. The kiss feels perfect, as if his lips were only meant to be pressed against yours. Your whole body buzzes in the desire to make up for lost time.

“I want to taste you again”, he whispers into the kiss. “We can go back to hating each other in the morning.”

Doyoung slips from your hold then, falling down onto his knees. His hands move upwards from your calves towards your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your mini dress until you’re exposed enough for him. He leaves a bite on the soft skin of your inner thighs, on the place that he pet so diligently under the table earlier tonight.

“You look good like this.”

Confused, he pinches the collar of his dress shirt, tugging it a little.

“In this shirt?”

“On your knees.”

He chuckles, putting his mouth on your pussy finally. His lips are plush and soft, his small exhales make you shiver. You look around for any unwanted viewers yet your mind goes blank once Doyoung starts to move his tongue. Every lick feels like heaven, circling around your opening and entering you with his tongue. Biting your lip to stay as quiet as you can, you lift your right knee and rest it on his shoulder, grinding against his face.

“That’s it, use me.”, he sighs against your sensitive skin, making you want to scream at the sensation. His hands find their way over your ass again, grabbing you gluttonously. The mess of slick and spit helps your movement, his nose bumping against your clit with every circle of your hips. You’re already on edge from his teasing earlier, and when he starts to suck at the sensitive nub, you just can’t take it anymore.

You come embarrassingly fast, whole body tingling as he continues to flick his tongue against your clit during your high.

“I…”, is all you manage to whimper, but Doyoung doesn’t need anything else from you. The sight of you falling apart against his face is more than enough, patiently waiting for your legs to stop shaking and cleaning up the mess between your thighs in the meantime.

With a satisfied grin and a half-soaked up face, he gets on his feet again, holding you by the waist so that you don’t collapse. You’re still drunk by the orgasm and a bit disoriented, yet you still manage to slip your hands between your bodies, finding the outline of his cock. You start to massage his member over his clothes and Doyoung hisses, buckling his hips against your palm. The fabric under your fingertips starts to get wetter by the minute.

“I want you in my mouth”, you confess, dragging the zipper of his pants down and freeing his dick. He feels hot and hard and so fucking big in your palm that your mouth waters, precum already dribbling from his tip.

He stops your lazy strokes with a hand on your wrist before he kisses you again, and you can clearly taste yourself on his swollen lips. Not one to easily give up, you guide the tip of his cock between your wet folds, languidly dragging it back and forth until he groans in your mouth.

“Not here. Let’s go to our room.”

You nod, almost too desperately, letting him lead you forwards as you separate your back with the wall. It could be the champagne’s fault for your disorientation but it feels like you’re moving the wrong way, yet you don’t want to part your lips from his so you trust him blindly. The last thing you remember was floating on air.

Before you feel your body submerging in the pool water, that is.

You spend a few moments in panic before you realize you’re underwater, Doyoung quickly pulling you to the surface. You’re both panting when you finally manage to breathe again, and you curse at him when he flicks his wet hair out of his forehead, the droplets blinding you.

Your small designer bag floats just a couple of meters away from you, everything inside it ruined but you’re too tipsy to care about it now. All it takes is a glance at Doyoung’s flushed face for a nervous laugh to bubble up from your stomach, contagious as it makes him laugh as well. This is the lightest you’ve felt in a long time.

He swims closer to you, and you instinctively wrap your hands around him, locking your legs around his waist. He looks so handsome in the fluorescent lighting of the pool, his wet skin reminding you how good he looked this morning when he came out of the shower. You appreciate the little droplets decorating his eyelashes, fluttering as he blinks, staring at you. He looks at you so deeply that you’re scared he’s gonna see right through you, past the layers of skin and bones, and discover something that you’re not ready to admit just yet.

“What is it?”

“Even now, you look beautiful.”

You’re taken aback by his compliment, your face getting hot. In the ambiance of the night, you fail to remember what it was about Doyoung that you disliked so much. He lifts his thumbs to your undereyes, gently rubbing the running mascara off your face. You lean closer, giving him a peck at first, your hands smoothing down on his chest before kissing him again. And again. And again.

Soon, your back hits the wall of the pool, your body trapped between the hard surface and Doyoungs warm body. He sweeps his tongue across your lower lips, asking to enter your mouth again and you gladly let him. You’re shamelessly making out again, in the water now, and you feel his right hand slide from your face to your neck, grabbing at your throat.

He breaks the kiss, taking the time to admire how good you look deprived of oxygen. Your eyes are unfocused, mouth gaping open and lipstick smudged, tongue hanging out slightly. You look fucked out and it turns him on, cock painfully hard under your bare pussy.

“But you look more beautiful with my hands around your throat.

A thumb rubs your cheek before moving down to press onto your lips, and you lick his finger tentatively before sucking it inside your mouth. Your wet tongue moves around the digit slowly, making sure you show him just how talented you are before you let him go with a loud ‘pop’. God, he regrets not taking up your offer earlier.

“I need you”, you mewl with the little air still in your lungs, and Doyoung lets you go to hear your voice more clearly. “I need you now.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait either”, he agrees, looking around to make sure no one’s around. He turns you around then, the front of his body pressing against your back, and you rest your elbows on the pool tiles in front of you. Doyoung hikes your dress even higher, over your hips, kissing the top of your shoulder sensually. “You’re gonna have to be quiet. Okay, doll?”

You blindly agree with his words, already grinding your ass against him. He growls at your impatience, stilling your hips, and blindly looks for your entrance. You both gasp when he bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck”, you mutter at the feeling of him filling you to your gut, the stretch starting a fire in your stomach. He reaches for your chest, letting your boobs spill out from the hem of your dress to play with. The sensation makes you shiver, whimpering when he starts to tug at your nipples. Doyoung’s fingers that you love so much intertwine with yours as he starts to push his hips forward faster.

The pace is barely manageable, and when you push against him he finds that spot that has you seeing stars. If you were bad at being quiet before you were terrible now, long moans covering the sound of the small ripples you’re both creating.

His palm startles you when it covers your mouth suddenly, your sounds successfully muffled by his chlorine-flavored fingers.

“What’s wrong, does it feel too good?”, he asks smugly, snapping his hips even faster.

Your pride crumbles as you nod, biting on his fingers as his own snake their way over your already sensitive clit. The circles he draws around it have your eyes roll to the back of your head, your body putty in his hold.

“You said you could take it, but here you are, moaning like you don’t care who finds you getting all fucked out in public.” You whimper in his hand, gasping for air when he lets you breathe again. “The only thing you’re allowed to say from now on is my name when you come. Got it?”

“Doyoung!”, you moan out when your second orgasm washes over you, hitting you so hard that you think you might pass out right then and there. Your walls clench around his length, triggering his own orgasm, and he quickly pulls out of you before cumming in the water. His arm is still protectively wrapped around you as he thrusts his cock over your ass, riding it out.

You swim in complete silence for a while, catching your breaths. Doyoung helps you pull down your dress, picking up the floating bag for you as well. His jacket had survived the fall, dropping from your shoulders right before you took your involuntary dive, and he gets out of the pool to retrieve it as well.

“Are you okay?”, he asks you softly, helping you get out as well.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

It only took a couple of steps for you to realize that soaked heels on a wet tile floor are probably a bad idea. You stepped carefully, trying your hardest to keep your balance but still looking like a deer learning how to walk for the first time.

You stare in confusion when Doyoung crouches in front of you with his back facing you.

“Hop on. It’s too dangerous for you to walk like this.”

“But I-”

“The reception is not that far. Come on.”

Reluctantly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, jumping a little for him to hold the back of your knees. The alcohol moves in your belly, making you dizzy, and you rest your forehead against the top of his head to ground yourself. You can smell the hotel’s shampoo he used this morning, and if you weren’t as embarrassed to have him carrying you you’re certain the scent alone could relax you enough to be put to sleep. You’re only hoping that he can’t feel your beating heart thumping against his back.

Doyoung doesn’t put you down even when you reach the elevator, the receptionists gossiping about you yet he doesn’t seem to care. You tap on his shoulder shyly, wanting to tell him you can handle it from here. Before you can even open your mouth, he repositions you higher on his back, his body language shushing you.

You wish you hadn’t caught your reflection on the elevator mirror. You’re both soaked to the bone, Doyoung’s clothes stuck on his body and his dying erection semi-visible on his thigh. His eyes are red from the alcohol and his lips pink from your lipgloss, but it’s not like you look any better. Your wet hair is messy, your makeup gone. You can’t wipe that stupid smile off your face.

He still carries you to the room, even opens the door for you.

“Here princess”, he mocks you, letting your feet touch the floor finally. You thank him quietly and move over to your suitcase, looking for your pijamas and some fresh underwear to put on. You’re not sure how to address the situation, it’s ridiculous how you can barely look at the man that just made you cum twice in the eyes. Not in a bad way, of course: he just didn’t feel like the same Doyoung that got in that flight with you yesterday, and you couldn’t stop the feeling of hope from growing enthusiastically in your stomach.

You grip the bathroom door nervously until your knuckles turn white, mustering the courage to spill out at least half of what you’re feeling. The sound of his name grabs his attention.

“What we did tonight-”

“...was a mistake.”

“Huh?”

You blink back at him twice, cursing at the tears that burn your eyes.

“It was a one time thing, right? Like I said, we’ll go back to hating each other in the morning.”

The room is dark, and you hope the dim lighting hides the obvious hurt that manifests itself on your face. You hate how a part of yourself still wants to grab him by the collar and take him in the shower with you. Beg him to love you again before that ‘morning’ comes. Kiss you so hard that he forgets whatever it is about you he despises so much that he can’t let it go. You can barely keep your voice from breaking.

“Right. I’ll take a shower and then I’ll pass out. Goodnight.”

“Good-”

You don’t let him finish, closing the door between you. He shouldn’t see you cry.

In the midst of all the laughter on such a beautiful morning like today, pressing on the power button of your phone while hoping it still works out of a miracle, you were the obvious stand out. You move your legs absentmindedly, only your feet dipped in the water, body slumped and looking miserable next to the children’s pool. You hoped that the sound of shrieking children might distract you from recalling the big rejection of last night, yet your growing headache makes you gradually regret yout decision more and more.

As you stare at a mother forcefully smear her child’s face with sunscreen, your phone still dead in your lap, your fingers toy with the buttons of your shirt. Doyoung’s shirt, actually. The same printed one he wore two days ago at the rehearsal. The need to have his smell on your body too intense for you to resist. God, you’re so pathetic.

“It looks better on you than me.”

His voice from behind you startles you, and before you can excuse yourself nicely he’s already taken a seat next to you. He looks rough, jaw stubbled from not shaving and with dark circles under his eyes. You wonder if he had a sleep as restless as yours.

“I know”, you reply and he chuckles. “I’m sorry for taking this without asking. I was planning on returning it before you woke up.”

“It’s okay”, he shrugs and you’re met with silence again, the atmosphere heavy with the memories of last night weighing you both down. You were ready to pretend taking a call from your useless phone when he speaks up again.

“Let’s play last night’s game again.”

“The question game?”

“Yeah.”

“Doyoung, I can’t handle any mimosas right now.”

“No alcohol, just questions. Just-”, he sighs, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Just talk to me.”

“Theres nothing to talk about. We did what we did, you regret it. It’s fine.”

“No it’s not fine-”

“It’s fine!”, you insist, lifting your shoulders and dropping them again disappointedly. “I can’t force you to like me back.” You can tell your words upset him, but he still decides to let you finish. “But I was kind of hoping you’d at least be my friend.”

You hear a muffled groan from your side, turning to see Doyoung rub his face with his hands.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Why?”

“Because I do like you back.”

“You- you do?”

“God, y/n, are you serious? I’ve liked you ever since I walked into the school and saw you on the teachers’ lounge for the first time. I like the stupid pins you wear in your hair. I like the little songs you make up on Monday mornings. I like your handwriting on the chalkboard. I like the way you say my name, I like how you feel around me. And now you’re sitting next to me looking all pretty in my shirt and all I can thing about is-”

You press his open mouth against your lips, muffling his words, kissing him fiercely. He’s surprised but only for a second before the heat of your body thaws his frozen state, digging his fingers in your hair as he kisses you back. His rough stubble scratches your chin but the dull pain only makes you kiss him harder, pulling your body against yours until your heart hammers loudly in your ears. Your lips part open and tongues meet, minty from the toothpaste you used that morning and you’re ready to fully succumb under his body weight, let him lay those broad shoulders on top of you fully.

“There’s children around!”, an angry father from afar yells so you push him away, embarrassed, rubbing your lips. The pure serotonin that you get when you see his gummy smile again is irreplaceable, and you both laugh in the ridiculousness of the situation. You wonder what your coworker would say if she saw the two of you like this, getting carried away by each other at such a place, and you giggle thinking of her reaction. Doyoung is the first to speak.

“In conclusion, yes, I will be your friend.”

“Is that what you do with your friends?”

“Sure”, he jokes, and you shove him a little with your elbow. “I’m always here for you if you need shoulders to cry on”

“Awww”

“...or to lay your legs on.”

“Doyoung!”, you squeal and kick some water his way, like a cat that needed to be reprimanded. He laughs heartily, lightly, patting his skin that got wet dry.

“All jokes aside”, he adds, intertwining your fingers and resting your connecting hands on his thigh, “when we get back, I want to take you out on a proper date.”

“Fine”, you agree, giving him another kiss and hoping it won’t get you kicked out, “As long as you promise that you won’t throw us fully clothed in a pool again.”

“Keep it up and I’ll throw you fully clothed in a pool right now.”

#neohub #neowritingsnet #nct #nct smut #doyoung smut #nct 127 smut #kim doyoung #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fic #nct 127 #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung fic #kim doyoung smut

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lovecanyon · 2 years

Note

arabella i was wondering if you can make a modern day prince!harry instagram blurb with sydney sweeney as the faceclaim. (for example harry is like prince harry and y/n is like megan)

SOCIAL MEDIA BLURB

prince!harry x duchess!reader au

MASTERLIST

liked by fan2, fan4 and 749,620 others

pagesix Prince Harry and Duchess Y/N arriving at their Kensington Palace home yesterday afternoon.

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fan3 THE IT COUPLE

fan8 their relationship is so beautiful i’m like jealous…😭

fan5 how did they meet again?

fan7 y/n and harry went to the same school together and started dating when they were teenagers

fan9 that’s so cute 🥹

fan6 y/n is one lucky woman

fan11 THE ONLY ROYAL COUPLE I’LL LOVE

deuxmoi via instagram stories

liked by fan10, fan12 and 2,903,627 others

rollingstone Exclusive photos of Prince Harry and Duchess Y/N in school release earlier today. The couple is the number one trending topic on Twitter amid the Coachella festival.

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fan16 THEY WERE SO YOUNG

fan14 they’ve known each other for so long that’s so cute 🥹

fan18 this is going to be in history books….

fan13 PLEASEEEEE

fan15 they are the moment

fan17 THEIR LOVE IS SO STRONG…I’M LITERALLY CRYING 😭

fan19 right? like they’ve been dating for years

liked by fan20, fan22 and 1,629,736 others

dailymail Duchess Y/N Styles in London this morning, seen with one of Prince Harry’s vintage cars.

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fan21 SHE’S THE MOMENT

fan23 seriously in love with her

fan25 can we talk about the way y/n dresses regularly and not like a royal, i love it 🤭

fan27 princess diana vibes.

fan24 she’s trending on twitter again!!!

fan26 love how she’s everyone’s favorite royal

fan28 these photos explained why harry is in love with y/n….she’s so 🙏🙏

liked by fan29, fan31 and 3,791,846 others

popculture Remembering Prince Harry and Duchess Y/N’s wedding. It was the most famous Royal wedding despite not being streamed for the world to see.

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fan35 y/n truly looked like a princess 😩

fan37 "despite not being streamed" that’s so iconic bye

fan32 LITERALLY LIKE???

fan34 i love how everyone freaks out about y/n…bc same

fan33 a moment in history we’ll never forget.

fan36 i remember their wedding was trending for days on twitter 😭

fan38 y/n’s wedding dress was so iconic

TWITTER

tag list : @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @drphilssoulmate @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @academiaghosts @japanchrry @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @hrryscherrys @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @newyorker14 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @eunoiamaa @kaitieskidmore1 @gublerscherry @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @diorsitgirl @golden-hoax @helen-with-an-a @imthegoofyvillain @flwrmuse @leah2002 @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @riverjane-d @iluvjj @lone-emaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #prince!harry #husband!harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake social media #harry styles fake ig

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azlrse · 2 years

Text

Embarrassment (Various Ancient Cookies x GN Cookie!Reader)

CW: a bit suggestive but contains overall sweet fluff!!

A/N: Pure Vanilla Cookie is officially been added to the list and I'm going to write for him for the first time so bare with me!

[This is a filler post since my recent fic has been flopping lately--]

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Dark Cacao Cookie 🗡️

"My King, is their majesty alright? Where's the other throne?" You looked at Dark Cacao Cookie, both flustered and embarrassed while your husband looks at the cookie that spoke towards him with a blank expression. "It needs of repair, watcher. For now, my spouse will sit on my lap in the absence of their throne."

That was a lie, the only reason why he took away the throne you usually sat on was because in revenge, from your endless pranks of course. You always played numerous pranks from him; from hiding his own crown to giving him a small heart attack when it turns out, you only hid in the bedroom closet.

The last straw that finally snapped him is when you scare the living shit out of him, causing him to shout loudly out of fear. Now, here you are, sitting at his lap as a way of his revenge towards you. To say the least, it's very embarrassing.

While you gave a playful stare to your husband, Dark Cacao would wrap his arms around you and snuggles up on your neck. "Dark Cacao dear, can I at least stand up a bit? It's kind embarrassing when you gave some of your affection like this." The king looks at you questionably and replied, "No one was here, beloved. Now stop talking and let me enjoy your presence here."

What a great way to spend some time with your husband...

Pure Vanilla Cookie 🌻

"Pure Vanilla Cookie, where's the other throne?" He only looks at you in slight confusion, yet knows on what he was doing. Through the words of the young cookies of his kingdom, he knows what's the concept of 'pranks' mean. Don't blame this king tho! Not only he just wants to try to pull a prank on you but also wants to spend some time towards his adorable lover.

Pure Vanilla Cookie playfully shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know, my dear. It looks like I've must have forgotten to bring it back here because the throne's need of change of design." He looks at you with his heterochromic eyes and playfully pats his lap. "Why don't you sit here for a while? I just wanna hold my lovable flower." You look at him in pure shock and your face became red.

"Y-your lap, my king?" He nodded as he placed his staff right beside his throne. "I mean, only if your comfortable with it. I just ordered the cookies here at the castle to give us a bit of privacy. Care to join me, my queen/king?" You felt flustered towards his actions as you walked towards him and sat on his lap. Your husband instantly hugs your waist an gives you a small kiss on your cheek.

You enjoyed the peaceful silence until a servant cookie spoke from the storage room. "Um King Pure Vanilla Cookie, why is their majesty's throne was stored at the storage room? I thought that you delivered it at the royal sculptors in change of the design."

You look at him in slight anger (yet playfully). "You lied, sweetheart? That's not very nice of you!" You spoke as you playfully slap his arm, crossing your arms and playfully glares towards him. He only laughs as he holds you tighter his arms. "I couldn't think of a better way to spend some time with you, love. So I heard those little cookies talking about the concept of 'pranks'.

For this one, you just let it slide off. After all, you need some of the affection you husband gave to you.

Hollyberry Cookie 💝

"Nah uh, there is no way I could have lost to this berry juice drinking contest! I could've beaten your record when I still have much time left!" Hollyberry Cookie only laughed as she pulled you towards the throne and hugged you tightly. Upon feeling the warmth from her affection, you calmed down and snuggled up a bit in her arms.

"Oh hush, sweetheart! You know that my record was unbeatable! No cookie could handle consuming 12 cups of juices, including my own spouse!" You only glared at her, began to cross your arms and looked away from her loving gaze. You could handle any tasks like hunting for berries at the forest or handling a dragon together with your wife but being on the queen's lap? Not a chance! You felt really flustered yet embarrassed at the same time.

Your wife places her hand on your cheek and gives your lips a little speck of kiss. "You know I love you right? You did your best at the contest minutes ago." She spoke softly while you also smiled back at her. "Yes, I love you too, Hollyberry Cookie. I love you so much."

Golden Cheese Cookie 🧀

"This sucks, this is what I got after I tripped and fell towards that ditch? I only have a scrape on my dough, not a crack, my queen." You spoke as Golden Cheese hugs you tightly around your waist, unable to let you go. You were used to your wife's protective instinct but being on her lap? That's another story to tell.

You kept on reassuring her that you are okay and she's married to a tough cookie, despite all the challenges the two of you faced throughout the relationship. "No, you're staying in my lap till I say so, my treasure." Golden Cheese said, making you a bit pissed off.

You look away from her face in anger when suddenly she had an idea. An idea that could make you feel less anger towards you. "You know," she stated, placing a single kiss on your neck. "I know a way to make you calm down."

"Hmm? What was tha-"

Your words were cut off when all of the sudden, she peppers both of your face and neck with so many kisses. "Golden Cheese Cookie, stop the kisses!!" You giggled uncontrollably while your wife gives you butterfly kisses both on your face and neck. "Nope, I ain't gonna stop unless my spouse isn't angry at me anymore!" She replied and proceeded to continuously kisses you.

"Alright, alright I'm not angry anymore! I should be careful next time, honey!" Your giggles quiet down as soon as your wife stops her affectionate attack. You placed your head on her shoulder and snuggles up closer to her body. Golden Cheese Cookie only sighs and kisses on the top of your head as she enjoys the peaceful silence on her palace.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

#cookie run x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom #dark cacao cookie x reader #hollyberry cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #golden cheese cookie x reader #cookie run imagines #cookie run fluff #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom imagine

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primofate · 3 years

Text

Genshin Characters as Royal/Fantasy AU plots [All male characters]

Notes: It’s longer than I thought...

Do tell me which one seems interesting or which one is your favourite so I can start the series on it XD

Or maybe you guys think “Oh hey this plot would be better for the other character” Tell me! Any thots at all, I love to hear them <3

Warning: death of minor characters. dark themes in some of them. some angst. NOT PROOFREAD…I’m sorry that I don’t proofread my work >_> If I missed anyone... welp, I’m sorry.

Characters: Aether (I missed Aether last time, I’m sorry), Albedo, Bennett, Chongyun, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli x fem!reader

Special thanks to ladybug anon, @simplypotz and @minyoustar for feeding my royal AU brainrot :D

Personal favourites in this work: Dainsleif, Kaeya, Scaramouche and Xiao

Aether

You’re a princess and he’s a prince of another country. Simple childhood friends that were promised to each other at a young age. It was only when you were older that you realized the two of you were to be wedded at a certain age. With that thought in mind, it was hard to interact with him without thinking about the fact that he was going to be your husband. Still, it wasn’t such a bad thing in your mind. After all, Aether had always been a prince who looked after you, and always had your best interests in heart. It takes you a while to realize that there’s something a little strange about Prince Aether and that he’s changed a little. You find out what it is as you stumble upon a room with a huge magic circle in it. You figure out that he’s trying to revive his twin sister, and he needs a human sacrifice. You fit all the required descriptions.

Albedo

A prince, but also a well-known scholar. His people don’t see much of him because he’s always locked up in his library, researching various things. The king and queen have tried time and time again to present various princesses for him to choose from. He refuses every one of them. He thinks they’re all just rich girls from rich families attending their rich dinners. No substance at all. Until you come along. You who told his parents that they didn’t need to arrange a dinner, you’d be the one to look for Prince Albedo in his library. So this book-loving prince was startled when you, a book-loving princess, accompany him in the library, partaking in his research and readings. He let’s his guard down, and the moment he does, his research papers disappear and you’ve disappeared along with them.

Bennett

The young, aspiring knight. He has all the energy a new recruit would have. Sparkly-eyed, determined and strong-willed. He’s actually a baron, but only adopted into the royal family so some people don’t really see him as a real royal. He doesn’t let that get him down though because he doesn’t see himself as much of a royal either. He’d rather be a knight, go on journeys and be given important tasks. You’re the princess that he serves and it’s not a crime to have a little crush on you right? Looking from afar never hurt anyone. It’d be blasphemy for a knight his rank to even think of talking to you.

Chongyun

He started off as an apprentice sorcerer in the palace. Eager to learn and serve. Years later he’s climbed the ranks and has become the High Sorcerer. He’s tasked to accompany you if ever there’s any business outside the country. You always try to ease his nerves by telling him to lighten up, but he takes his work of protecting you seriously. The attraction between the two of you is undeniable, but neither of you act on it because you know your parents would never approve. In a twist of fate, Chongyun ends up saving your life during a dangerous situation. Your parents decide to give him a fair chance to woo you. They arrange a battle royal, open for all sorcerers. Whoever wins may wed you.

Dainsleif

A prince that was already happily engaged to someone else. However, she was lost to an illness. He didn’t care if he was re-arranged to someone else, so that’s what happened and he was arranged to you. It was literally just an arranged marriage. Aside from the wedding day, you never even stayed in the same room as him. It was a miserable first few months for you, the other noblewomen started to whisper and spread rumors that the prince didn’t even love you and treated you like a maid. However, you put a bit more effort in getting to know him, and slowly, he realizes that he’d been treating you unfairly. Just when the two of you start getting closer, another princess shows up, and she looks exactly like Prince Dainsleif’s dead lover.

Diluc

Diluc automatically became the king when his father passed away. He watches over his kingdom quietly and does so diligently, day and night. People get the wrong impression of him as he rarely smiles. Still, he’s held in high regard as he’s at the top of the hierarchy. Before his father passed, one of his last wishes was for him to marry a particular duchess. It was just an agreement made between his father and yours. Diluc wanted to honour it. He, of course, just thinks of it as something that needs to be done. He doesn’t communicate well with others, including you. It’s a rather awkward marriage with a lot of silence, but you play your part as the queen and offer your assistance in any way you can. Pretty soon he starts to see that the support you give is quite valuable and an irreplaceable bond starts to form between the two of you. Imagine his shock when he finds out that your father was involved in the death of his.

Gorou

Grand Commander of the archery unit in the royal infantry. Everyone in that unit answers to him. He stands at the same position as the Grand Commander of the knights. You’re the princess of the kingdom he serves. One day, you mysteriously approach Gorou and ask him to teach you how to use the bow. He’s dumbfounded. “Pardon me for asking, princess, why are you interested in learning how to wield a weapon at all? You have us and the knights under your hands to protect you,”

“To protect me, or my father?” your question doesn’t make sense to him. In his mind he serves both you AND your father. It’s only later on that Gorou understands, when the crimes of your evil father are exposed, a resistance was made against him. Your father orders his royal infantry to kill all resistance members, but you’re at the heart of the resistance. It’s here that Gorou needs to decide if he serves you, or your father.

Itto

Leader of a bandit group. Some people just saw them as hooligans, but they were an organized group, able to execute their plans cleanly. Somehow and some way, you, a baroness, gets kidnapped by Itto. You’re terrified and instantly hate his guts. However, you find out that there’s a reason behind his planned kidnapping. He doesn’t plan to hurt you at all, and his members treat you with respect. All he had wanted was for the nobles to listen to his requests, his village is dying, caving under poverty and lack of resources, and yet none of the nobles have sent any kind of support to even help the village get up on its two feet again. You’re humbled by this encounter and make it a mission to try and help his village get the support it needed. You succeed in passing on Itto’s message, but you’re forbidden to ever see him again.

Kaeya

The carefree prince and brother of King Diluc. Seeing him gallivanting around town was normal and the townspeople loved his sociable energy. The two of you were childhood frenemies, always bickering since you were younger and even through your teenage years. Still, your mothers arranged the two of you into a marriage and you were not happy about it. Kaeya seemed to feel the same. He didn’t act like your husband for months, still going out to masquerades by himself and talking up noblewomen. One day, while he’s at a ball by himself, he gets poisoned. The only antidote is a flower from a neighbouring country which you immediately go to retrieve. The prince of the neighbouring country is evil and powerful. He says that you can take all the flowers you want, but you’ll have to stay in his country with him. You agree and pass off the flowers to the knights, telling them that Prince Kaeya is running out of time and it’s the only way. The knights comply and when Kaeya wakes up, all better, he wonders where you are. The knights proceed to tell him the whole story.

Kazuha

The princess’ personal guard. Not a knight, but someone who has to be quick on his feet and a master of the sword. After all, he’s the first responder if anything were to happen to you. He’s the one person who’s sat through all of your meetings. Went to all of your royal parties. Sits in the carriage with you. As such, you spend a lot of time with him. He’s rather gentle and unassuming. Doesn’t look like he’s deadly with a sword at all. The two of you have a certain attraction going on, but neither of you act on it because you know it would never happen. One day, your engagement is announced. Your parents have taken a liking to a certain prince. Kazuha has no say over it, merely continuing to serve you. Weeks before your wedding you’re taken hostage at a royal gathering. A dark sorcerer claims that he needs your blood, pure and untainted, to finish an ongoing ritual. Your soon to be husband turns tail and runs, not even giving you a second glance in order to save his own life. None other than Kazuha steps up to save you when everyone else had already fled in a panic.

Razor

Born to a poor family and never getting the education he needed, he struggles to communicate with others, but has very good fighting skills and a strong sense of survival. Both his parents died due to poverty and because he doesn’t fit in around town, he builds his own small house in the woods. One day as he’s returning home he finds a young lady passed out and scratched up at the trail leading to his home. Without thinking much of it, he picks you up and takes you home to nurse you back to health. When you wake up all healed you realize he doesn’t talk much and find out that he doesn’t really know how to read or write. He’s kind enough not to shoo you out of his small house so you decide that you’d at least teach him how to talk and read the language to repay him for saving you. A mutual friendship had formed between the two of you and he was thankful that you taught him so many things. You stayed at his for about a week, until one night, his house is surrounded by knights shouting “Give the princess back!”

Scaramouche

Dubbed “The Ruthless Prince”. He gets what he wants, whenever he wants it. Anyone who does him wrong will be executed and people didn’t doubt it because there’d been rumors of him keeping prisoners in the palace’s dungeons. So if he wants to marry a commoner, then he’ll marry a commoner. That’s what happens when he’s out one day on his horse and just spots you at a store. There isn’t really anything special about you, but you catch his eye and he points “That one, I want that one,” as if you’re some kind of toy in a toy shop. You’re whisked away and dressed in proper noble and princess clothing and realize that you’re going to be married to him, no questions asked. Your family will be given however much money they want. Your family doesn’t push you to do it, but your parents were far from rich and worked hard all their lives, you really wanted to at least give them a good life so you agree. It can’t be that bad right?

Tartaglia

The two of you were already engaged, just waiting for the long awaited day to come, a marriage of two countries. Despite it being arranged, prince Tartaglia spent a lot of his time getting to know you and finding out that you are exactly what he wants in a life partner. He cherishes you like no other. However, arguments and disagreements ensued between your father and his, and instead of the wedding going through, a war erupted between his country and yours, tearing the two of you apart. You find ways to exchange letters in secret, and plan to meet up in the woods at a certain date and time. What Tartaglia didn’t know was that his letters were being monitored. His father knew exactly where you were meeting and had already planned to ambush you.

Thoma

A kind and humble prince who treated everyone equally, commoners included. Your father is the royal family’s doctor and when you were of age, you start to accompany him to learn more about how to be one yourself. That’s how Prince Thoma meets you and is also how you get to know him better. Years later you’re engaged to him but life as a commoner turned noble isn’t easy. In any gathering, masquerade, ball or tea party, everyone looks at you as if you’re dirt under their feet. The noblewomen are particularly bad during tea parties, making you the target of their bullying. It proves to be too much, and you return to Thoma expressing that you didn’t want to go on with the wedding. He realizes he hadn’t been mindful enough of your struggles and tries to win you back.

Venti

Prince Venti was already engaged to you. He couldn’t quite say that he loved you, but he enjoyed your presence and was on very friendly terms with you. Other than you, Princess Sarah was a good friend of Prince Venti’s, and frequently visited Prince Venti’s palace. She was quite jealous of you, who seemed to come out of nowhere and gotten between her and Prince Venti.

Prince Venti was known to be a genius in the art of music and one of the palace’s prized possession was the holy lyre, passed on from generations and generations of nobility. One day, it goes missing, and is found to be hidden under your pillow in your bedroom. You have no clue how it ends up there and swear to Venti that you didn’t touch it at all. Nevertheless the evidence was too strong, the engagement was cut and you went from being a princess to a nobody real quick, shunned by royalty, shunned by Venti, and even by your own parents, disgusted by your crime. However, weeks later Venti finds out that Princess Sarah had been the one to take the lyre and put it in your bedroom, framing you for the theft.

Xiao

A prince, but also the grand commander of the knights. Formidable in battle and is always in the front lines of war. He didn’t care much for romance and is always busy with his knightly duties. Even for the announcement of his engagement to you, he was out leading the knights into battle. You see each other during the wedding day, after that, he’s off again. It’s like you’re not married at all, until one day his father forces him out of his knight duties. Xiao begrudgingly spends time with you but also secretly feels sorry that you’re wedded to him. He’s surprised though, because the first time he sits at the breakfast table with you, you were pleasant and didn’t even fault him for being away for so long. Instead you ask questions about him and try to get to know him more. Gradually he opens up to you but is needed in the front lines soon after. He’s reluctant to leave this time, eager to come back to you. Not even three days into his duties, he’s given an urgent request to come back to the palace. You’ve been struck by an unknown disease and it’s eating your life away.

Xingqiu

You’re a new recruit in Prince Xingqiu’s royal army. You were adept in the magic artes and they quickly realize you had the potential to be a high sorcerer. It doesn’t take long for you to get to the rank, possibly a few months, and you’re now tasked with the job of being Prince Xingqiu’s protector wherever he went. The Prince was warm and cordial, and treated you with the utmost respect and admiration. In return, you took your work seriously and watched over him closely. Over time the two of you built a friendship that revolved around trust. Xingqiu wouldn’t have to worry about his back if you were with him.

It’s one particular afternoon that you’re ambushed in the woods, the knights surround Prince Xingqiu’s carriage, protecting him and you start to put up a magic barrier around the knights. Before your spell finishes, you’re thrown towards the nearest tree trunk and pushed against it. Your captor states loudly. “Y/N, your job was to kill the prince, you incompetent fool. You’ve taken far too long, we’re taking matters into our own hands,” Xingqiu hears everything from the carriage, and by the time everything’s over and the knights have warded the enemies away, you were gone.��

Zhongli

A wise, well spoken prince. Looks at everything objectively and does not get agitated easily. Also the grand commander of the lance fournies (basically knights on horseback that uses the lance instead of a sword). You’re already married to him and the romance the two of you had was just beginning to blossom. He cared for you more and more each day.

The kingdom was struck by an earthquake one night, although it only lasted a few seconds. Everyone thought that was the end of it, but the earthquakes became more frequent. Rumors and legends start to spread that the ancient dragon sealed underneath a large tree outside of town was starting to awaken again, and it was threatening the peace of the kingdom. Zhongli investigates and realizes that the rumors are true. The ancient seal was withering away and no one knew how to fix it nor defeat the dragon. However, the dragon speaks. In three days, the seal will break. The only way to stop it is to present it with an offering of its choice. The dragon chooses the prince’s wife to be the offering.

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aajjks · 2 years

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The Conqueror (V)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader.

Disclaimer: proceed with caution, this can be triggering. This is purely fictional and this does not represent bts or jungkook irl. Do not romanticise this.

warnings: YANDERE, DARK THEMES AHEAD, crazy!jungkook, anxiety mentions, threats of killing, obsession, mentions of exhaustion, overworking, jungkook is crazy, psycho behaviour, possessiveness, jungkook doesn’t understand a ‘no’ dark content, viewer discretion is advised.

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All of the people present in the room watched the king grow restless as you fell unconscious into his arms, a few gasps were heard from them as the king quickly caught onto your body in his embrace as he scooped you into his arms, not caring about anything else, he felt like panicking because you suddenly passed out in front of him, Jungkook scooped your body as he could gripping onto it tight as he lifted you up bridal style. “CALL THE IMPERIAL PHYSICIAN IMMEDIATELY!” His deep voice boomed inside the huge hall. The other selected consorts watched with envy. The atmosphere of the room was heavy.

But no one dared to object. Na-Yeon was left stunned to wrap her head around anything.

All eyes were on the king who was starting to go fanatic. “IT IS A ROYAL COMMAND! SEEK THE PHYSICIAN AND BRING HER TO MY CHAMBER IMMEDIATELY!”

The king did not wait for anything else as he turned back with you in his arms and left the hall. The people were left stunned, still present in the hall. The looks on their faces were a great mind of envy and confusion.

The sound of breathing was the only sound that could be heard in the room until, one of the consorts spoke.

“Looks like… we already know who’s going to be the favourite one hmm?” Kim Si-Woo's tone was dripping with venom. “L/N Y/N… yes I saw her on the arrival day… the king had even asked for her name…” the other one joined in. Sana, did not feel like chiming into their gossip as she was busy thinking about a severe issue.

That was you. “The king has liked her since, I think… I mean she was a servant! Not even of noble blood!” Her cruel laugh made everyone in the room gasp.

“Be careful with your words, young lady.” Mrs lee walked towards the laughing woman, her stern voice made the gossip die down immediately. “Do not forget that you’re talking about the chief consort.” She crossed her arms, glaring at the young woman. “C-Chief?” That was a shocker for everyone, all of the attention in the room focused on the old woman.

“Ah yes… L/N Y/N of Gaegyeong has been chosen as the king’s chief consort. Did you not see the king giving her the embroidered handkerchief himself?” She raised her eyebrow. “W-What do you mean!” The panic in the young woman’s voice was visible to every single one present in the room. “Embroidered?” The others questioned in unison.

Sana was left stunned.

Kim Si-Woo’s cruel laugh was long gone and replaced by panic.

“You all are a rank below her, so you’d better start showing her ladyship respect. She’s the closest to the king now.” The older woman ignored the question, she needed to set the rules.

Just like how the king has commanded her to.

“Unless you want to be punished.” She exhaled out.

“She’s the chosen one, after all. She will be the legal wife to the imperial king soon.”

“She’s the chosen one, after all. And? She will be the legal wife to the imperial king soon.” The words came out of her mouth so smoothly.

As if she’d known.

“W-What?” Came next the voice of Sana. She couldn’t contain her distress any longer.

All the girls turned their heads to look at the prettiest one present in the hall. The young woman did not care about the attention on her.

She only cared about what the older woman just said.

“My lady… what are you saying?” The blonde girl spoke in a silk tone, her sweet voice could seduce any man she’d wanted. She was sure to be polite, and not too eager.

She needed to fix all of this.

“What I’m saying is, my ladyship is that Y/N L/N has been chosen personally by the king to be his legal wife and chief consort. She will be the first to provide him with an heir. She was the king’s choice.” The Head of the court explained,

“it was the great king’s decision, no one can object.”

In that moment, Sana’s world crumbled before her eyes.

Jungkook wanted to set the whole world on fire. He sat right beside your laying body, his hand lingered on your forehead as the physician examined you.

Your fever was only increasing by the passing seconds, Jungkook wanted you to wake up.. panic was something he’d never felt, at least not in a long time.

But right at this moment, he felt incredibly worried. Had he scared you? Or were you overworking yourself? “Tell me what’s wrong with her! Right now!” Jungkook growled at the female. His eyes pierced through her as he caressed your face gently.

“My imperial grace… Lady Y/N… fainted due to exhaustion and panic.” The woman bowed her head to the man. Jungkook watched her with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, however the confusion was quickly replaced with fury. “Exhaustion?” He bit his lip in order to surpass lashing out on her.

“So you’re saying that my precious has been being overworked?” His gaze was set on her, waiting for her response. “Likely so, My king.” She confirmed. “Because the fever has settled inside her bones…” The woman was so scared of the king’s reaction. She waited for his command. “What do you mean?!”

Jungkook’s heart had quickened at the diagnosis. You had fallen sick due to being overworked and he didn’t even know? What kind of a lover was he? His beloved was suffering right in front of him And he couldn’t see?

“My liege, thankfully it’s nothing to worry about for too long… I can prepare a few herbs and she shall be fine, but rest is acquired in order for her to get better, and she mustn’t stress about anything.” Jungkook listened to the lady with every bit of his attention.

His eyes shot up at the physician, immediately taking in her instructions. He nodded. “Very well, My dear has to be well and healthy. Go ahead and immediately start preparing!” He exhaled out, his tone stern and dominating. The physician nodded.

“The future queen of the empire has to be healthy at all costs.” He smiled lovingly, gazing at your face.

No one had any idea about his plans. And that was what Jungkook wanted. He only chose the others due to some pressure from the officials. Not that he’d care about their opinions but it was rather a good thing, so his enemies wouldn’t focus on you.

The others could be used as a target, and Jungkook couldn’t care less about any of them.

All he ever cares is about you, his only one.

His queen. You.

Sana quietly made her way to her brother's quarters, hiding her face with the cape of the dark cloak. It was dark outside, the cold breeze was only getting harsher with each day. Goosebumps rose on her pale skin as the wind made contact with it.

She continued to walk, stealing a few glances here and there. Making sure that no one was watching.

She was already so tense, her heart was aching. The King was so obviously infatuated with you. It was you that became his chief consort, not her just like she’d wished.

She wasn’t the one he loved, it was you.

She couldn’t have his heart, despite loving him for as long as she could remember, her dreams were crushed within a second.

And the worst thing was, the king did not even try to mask his affections for you. Sana knew but her heart wasn’t willing to accept that. He looked at you just like she looked at him when he didn’t notice.

He never noticed her, not even when she watched him practice sword fighting with her brother, Where she’d seen him for the first time ever, many years ago.

He was practicing fighting with her brother. And stupidly enough. She had already lost her heart to him.

The one who had his sword on the neck of her only brother. Lee Dongmin, the General.

You felt someone’s hand on yours, the feeling of it being squeezed hard made your body move. Your brain felt hazy as you tried to open your eyes, Your vision was blurry, all you were able to see was the black dots that appeared in front of you.

“oh my god!” Then you heard a familiar deep voice, and that was all needed to wake your senses up.

It was the voice of the one you dreaded the most, The King, Jeon Jungkook. “My precious! You’re finally awake!” Your eyes opened fully, his face was the first thing you saw.

And your heart stopped as you remembered the events of today.

His eyes were filled with a crazed expression, they were shining like the stars in the sky.

“Y-You!” You tried your best to sit up, your eyes filled with horror as he helped you. It was only you and him, between the large walls of his magnificent chamber. “Yes it’s me, my love. I’m so glad that you’re awake! You just saved one life, my dear!” You watched him speak gleefully, it confused you.

His handsome face was all you could see, his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, the dark curly locks made him look absolutely radiant. You could only look at him, he was wearing a night robe, unlike his formal clothes.

And that terrified you.

“W-Where am I?” It was a dumb question but your head was hurting, your body was panicking, his touch sent shivers down your spine. His grip was tight on you as he watched you with a dark glint in his orbs. “What do you mean? You’re in my room. Our room.” Jungkook replied, his aura switched from worried to domineering. His tongue emphasised on the word ‘our’. Your body jolted at that.

“W-What do you mean!” You couldn’t contain your harsh tone. He terrified you, your worst nightmare sat right beside you and you couldn’t do anything about it. “Isn’t it simple? You’re my consort, my Chief consort, you will be staying with me now,” he pulled your body closer to his, your head fell onto his hard chest as his fingers gripped onto your weak body.

Horror filled you, his touch felt too warm on your cold skin and you were unable to see his face, no, it couldn’t be true. “M-My king… please let me go… I don’t want- until we’re married.”

His words were like a slap on your face. “W-What?” His breath hit your neck and sent tingles down your stomach. It felt hot against your skin. “Yes, my love. Please call me jungkook. We are to be husband and wife now. I’m so happy that you woke up otherwise I was going to kill that physician.” Your heart thumped against your chest at his confession.

You wanted him to let you go. “Please l-let me go… my King please! I don’t want this, I don’t want to be your wife! I don’t want to be your consort please!” Tears fell down on your cheeks.

Just like you were terrified, your voice cowered.

“Jungkook. Call me jungkook. And you don’t have a choice in this matter. You don’t choose, sweetheart. I do. The faster you accept your fate. The better.” He pressed a kiss on your earlobe. “I love you so much, you’d better love me too.” He whispered in a sultry tone.

Sending shivers down your spine. Your body froze completely at his next words.

“Unless you wish for everyone to die in this palace. Just like your family did.”

1K notes · View notes

writing-for-marvel · 2 years

Text

It Started With A Smile (1)

[Bridgerton AU]

Duke!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist | PART 2 > >

Summary: At the start of the new social season, Lady Whistledown predicts this will finally be the year solitary Duke James Barnes finds a wife.

Warnings: this series is strictly 18+; it’s set in a different AU to the show so there aren’t direct spoilers for either season, but similar events occur as in E01 of both seasons (ie introduction to court, etc), historical inaccuracy, slight age gap is implied although exact ages are never mentioned (everyone is over 18), sexism

Word count: 7.0k (lord I got so carried away)

A/N: heavily inspired by both seasons of Bridgerton

A big thank you to the lovely @maladaptivexxdaydreaming and @fluffycutecevans for encouraging me with this when I was on the brink of deleting the whole thing

Banners by @maysdigitalarts, dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboards by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Dearest Readers,

With the bloom of wisteria comes one of the most momentous days in our calendar: the start of a new social season.

With this day finally upon us again, new and old faces alike will be presented this afternoon to Her Majesty the Queen, at the Royal Palace, subjecting themselves to her critique on a quest to seek the highest praise one can earn - the title of this season's diamond.

So you might ask, what will make this year's season stand out from the rest?

In truth, only time will tell. However, if whispers are to be believed, a certain outcast, His Grace James Barnes, Duke of Brooklyn, will be making his long awaited return to court, setting all young ladies hearts a flutter.

Could this year be the season the scandalous Duke finally relents and takes a wife? My instincts and insight indicate it will be.

Because if there is one thing in life people are willing to take risks for, it is love.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

The warm spring sun shone through the windows of the palace parlour, as finicky mothers put the final touches on their daughters' appearances before the grandeur double doors were set to swing open, inviting them to cross the threshold into their new life.

Your mother beamed at you after fixing the feathered tiara to your head, which in your opinion made you look like a ridiculous goose, but was a requirement of your debut in front of Her Majesty. You nervously tugged at the ends of long white gloves that came to rest halfway up your bicep as your mother continued to fuss over every inch of your dress.

You had never been so nervous in your entire life, and at the present time were so caught up in your anxious thoughts you didn’t hear your mother repeating your name beside you. Only her soft, gloved touch on your exposed upper arm pulled you from your trance.

“You’ll be perfect darling. Regardless of the Queen’s appraisal, the right man will see how beautiful you truly are.”

You managed a small smile, but it was to alleviate her worries more than your own.

Every excruciating hour of your life which had been dedicated to studying and practising to become the perfect lady led to this very moment. Presenting yourself in front of the Queen of England, who with one look would determine if you were to be the diamond of the season, and therefore worthy of the most eligible bachelor London had to offer, if you were fated for a loveless political marriage, or perhaps the worst scenario, no husband at all.

Your worries were only further intensified by the notion that given your current familial circumstances, your mother wanted you off the marriage market by the conclusion of the social season. You knew your mother loved you deeply, and only had the best of intentions when it came to your happiness, so you didn’t have the heart to tell her the pressure was eating you alive.

The eligible ladies were introduced in order of rank, one by one announced to a room full of nobility and upper-class families for the Queen to make her assessment, until you were the last debutante remaining in the parlour.

A booming baritone voice announced you and your mother’s titles as all eyes in the room turned to you. Your stomach contorted and though you felt like you were about to throw up, you pushed the feeling down as you knew puking in front of the Queen was just about the worst first impression you could make.

Your hands shook uncontrollably and heart thumped rapidly in your chest as you straightened your posture and started taking small, delicate steps towards the Queen and her ensemble. The entire room was silent, so much so that the clicks of yours and your mothers heels filled the entire room.

Your mother always stressed how important this first impression was. As someone who had a relatively low rank amongst present company, a favourable opinion from Her Majesty would be vital for securing any marriage prospects.

As you stepped ever closer to the dais, you were no closer to figuring out what the blank expression on the Queen’s face indicated. You hadn’t seen her react to any of the other ladies' presentations, so you were painfully unaware whether this was a favourable reaction or not.

Once you reached the base of the platform, you bowed your head and dropped to a curtsy so low you were practically kneeling. Your mother did the same beside you, as low as her older knees would allow, and then you waited for your indication to rise.

Which didn’t come.

The silence extended to an unnatural length, but you compelled yourself to stay perfectly still. You were before the Queen of England, so no matter how out of place and alarmed you felt in this moment, you could not put a toe out of line.

Whispers propagated around the room, and you took a shaky breath in fear of what this prolonged silence from Her Majesty possibly signified.

Could she be that horrified by your presentation?

Finally, the Queen shifted her position on the throne, and to your utter shock, stood and made her way down the steps of the dais so that she was directly before you - the whispers about the room now turning to gasps.

Her Majesty’s gloved finger tilted your bowed head up to look at her. Following her touch, you finally rose and noticed the small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Stunning.” She simply proclaimed, before nonchalantly turning around and taking her place back on the throne as if she hadn’t just completely changed your life with a single word.

The chaos which ensued from that point onwards was formidable. Not only did most of the young men in attendance compete with each other for a moment of your attention, engulfing you in a sea of unfamiliar faces who you knew were only interested because of the Queen’s actions, but every other lady who had just been presented now eyed you with bitter and begrudging stares.

Though you suspected the marriage mart would have a transactional essence which most likely removed the romantic element of becoming engaged, you expected the bachelors to at least want to get to know you as a person if they were serious about the commitment of marriage, rather than seeing you as a political chess piece from the beginning.

You were sadly mistaken.

Excusing yourself from the mayhem, you scrambled to find a corner of the palace in which you could have a moment alone, away from all the demanding voices, loud music, foreign faces and stuffy air of the throne room.

Scurrying through a labyrinth of corridors, you finally found a doorway that led outside. Once the doors were shut behind you, you closed your eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, allowing the fresh spring air to finally fill your lungs and slow your thumping heart.

“Are you alright?” Startled by another’s presence, your eyes shot open, only to be met with yet another unfamiliar face. However, this young lady’s was warm and inviting, seemingly concerned about your well-being, which was a stark contrast to those inside.

“You look flustered, here, come sit.” She patted the spot beside her on the garden bench, only now noticing that the courtyard you found yourself in was filled with beautiful pink roses in full bloom. You thanked the stranger prior to sitting beside her, then expelled a large sigh.

“That bad?”

“All of the attention, it’s�� overwhelming to say the least. I’m simply a Baron’s daughter, I never expected to be met with such recognition, but neither the jealous stares nor the scrutiny.” You admitted, though the woman let out a stifled laugh as if she understood all too well.

“Yes, court can be such a ruthless place with all the eagar debutantes and their mama’s vying for every eligible men’s attention. I, myself, prefer to stay as far away from that bedlam as possible.” Hearing someone speak aloud that they held a similar animosity towards court as you now did since your introduction not even an hour ago, helped calm the agitated storm swirling in your chest.

“I unfortunately don’t have that option. My father passed last year and now my mother insists I must marry so that I can secure my future.” You disclosed with a heavy heart, twiddling your fingers in your lap as a distraction from the memories of your cheerful father being recalled at the forefront of your mind.

“My condolences.” The stranger gave you a small smile, pausing the conversation for a moment as if to determine how to change the subject. “What a horrible society we live in where we have to rely on men to exist in this world.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You chuckled as a knowing look passed between the two of you. “Is that your way of indicating you aren’t partaking in this season?”

“If it were up to me I would never subject myself to such an appalling tradition, but my brother has other plans.” She shook her head indignantly, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Oh, and why’s that?”

“He refuses to take a wife himself, even though as the eldest it’s essentially a requirement. But alas, the family's reputation now rests on my weak shoulders it seems.” You sensed there was more to the story, but as virtual strangers, you thought it rude to probe further.

Before you had the opportunity to admit you felt under the same pressure as she currently did, your mother burst through the doors to the courtyard.

“There you are dearest, why aren’t you inside mingling with the gentleman?”

“I needed a breath of fresh air mama.” You rationalised, hoping your mother wouldn’t force you to spend another minute inside with the all too eager gentleman. She let out a sympathetic sigh, eyes darting to your new acquaintance. You noticed a slight tensing in her posture upon recognising the stranger beside you, which prompted her to speak again.

“Come along then, we must begin getting you ready for Lady Danbury’s ball tomorrow night.” Curious as to why your mother now seemed ill at ease, but knowing better than to ask, you stood from the seat.

“It was lovely meeting you.” You commented, turning to the affable stranger one last time.

“Likewise.” She smiled softly, but there was something about her demeanour which indicated she knew exactly why your mother was hastily removing you from her presence.

“I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Rebecca.”

You returned her smile and reciprocated her kindness by providing your own name, before being swiftly ushered away by your mother. You flashed Rebecca an apologetic look over your shoulder as you left her alone with her thoughts on the garden bench.

Even though you only spoke for a short moment, it was comforting to know you weren’t the only one inundated with the expectation and duty synonymous with the social season.

You might not have found a husband this afternoon, but you surely found a friend.

Between the time of your premature exit from the palace courtyard and your entrance at Lady Danbury’s ball, your severe detest of the court and the politics at play within it, only heightened.

Your mother seemed convinced that with the Queen’s actions the day before, she would not hesitate to name you the season’s diamond by that night, and from there it would only be a matter of days before the numerous marriage proposals started rolling in.

You appreciated that within this society, any proposal from a man with a highly esteemed family was difficult to acquire and should be deemed a triumph, but the romanticist within you, the girl who grew up reading tales of beautiful love stories between a prince and his fair maiden, was remarkably disappointed at the lack of romance and courtship in finding a husband.

Stepping into Lady Danbury’s castle of a home, you thought there could not be a more beautiful setting to have a magical meeting with someone who may in fact soon become your husband. Aromatic white roses adorned a grand staircase, and had been used to create elaborate centrepieces on every table in the dining room; gold trim covered every surface, and perhaps most beautiful of all was an ornate floral design newly painted on the polished hardwood floors.

But you were seemingly setting yourself up for further disappointment as every man you had the pleasure of interacting with in this fairytale mansion was only interested in how you could be of service to him - how you could entertain him on the pianoforte, how many children you’d be expected to bear, and if you’d be capable of running an efficient household.

You did your best to remain polite and genteel, however, you found it beyond insulting that all these men spoke to you as if you were interviewing for employment. None showed any concern about actually courting you, they treated you as if proposing marriage was doing you a favour.

Which you supposed in this society perhaps they were, but you had come to the realisation that you’d rather be considered an old spinster than the wife of a man who treated you like a servant.

Knowing there was at least one person in attendance tonight who held as much, if not more, contempt for the court’s customs as you did, you roamed the residence in search of Rebecca. After navigating what felt like the entire ground floor, you finally found her leaning on a column, beside the food tables in the corner farthest from the dance floor.

“Enjoying your night?” Rebecca asked with a distinctly sarcastic tone.

“Oh yes, I’m positively having the time of my life.” You responded, matching her sardonic tone before taking a sip of lemonade from the small crystal goblets the attendants meandering the party were handing out.

For the next half hour Rebecca and you stationed yourselves in the secluded corner of the ballroom, sipping on lemonade and poking fun at all the young men and women who were either awkwardly moving around the dance floor or making a fool of themselves in conversation, and the desperate mama’s who were all too eager in finding a match for their daughters. Both of you giggling the entire time as if you were tipsy on your fathers whiskey.

Just as your mother’s scornful eye met yours, as if to ask why are you not socialising with the gentlemen, the mellow music played by the string quartet and all conversation within the room abruptly stopped, as the embellished front doors swung open to reveal a tall, dignified young man with chestnut brown hair whom you didn’t recognise.

Whispers broke out around the room as the man failed at concealing his late entrance by remaining towards the perimeter of the space.

Is that the Duke of Brooklyn?

I never thought I’d see his face back at court since the scandal of his debut season.

Oh, but is he not the handsomest man you have ever seen?

Whistledown was right!

The dark blue of his coat accentuated his striking azure irises, which at that exact moment met yours from across the room, and you could have sworn your heart stopped completely. Indeed, the Earth may have stopped revolving for when you caught the gaze of this attractive mystery man, the entire world faded away, the music in the room a distant hum, Rebecca’s presence beside you and the gentry scattered around the room vanished completely as it seemed you were the only two in existence for that moment.

He was indeed extremely handsome. Perhaps the most stunning man with exceedingly charming features you ever set your gaze upon, but it was the endearing nerves and gentleness behind his beautiful eyes and bashfulness of the lopsided smile he flashed towards you which had you enchanted.

Your cheeks heated as he continued to stare, his line of sight remaining on you rather than surveying the room and all the beautiful women within it. Though your mouth suddenly became dry and your chest tightened markedly, making it impossible to take a steadying breath, you managed to reciprocate a small smile, which appeared to settle his nerves slightly, however, you were sure you were imagining it.

The room only started reappearing in vivid colour once his gaze broke and flickered to Rebecca beside you, and with a look of radiant recognition, which was followed by a sudden twinge of jealousy in your chest, started walking through the crowds towards where you were standing.

“Brother.” Rebecca said with a court nod, but your jaw almost hit the floor. She was the sister of a Duke? Why had she not mentioned it?

“Becca, I hope you haven’t been causing too much trouble.” The Duke said with an amused chuckle, the sound of which was the sweetest noise you had ever heard. It lightened your heart and all you wanted was to listen to his laugh on repeat to learn the intricacies of it.

“I’ve been a perfect angel, thank you very much.” She said with a sly grin before officially introducing you.

“It is a pleasure, Your Grace.” You politely curtsied, but as soon as you corrected your posture and your eyes locked with his once more, he took a hold of your hand - which was when you noticed he too was wearing gloves, rather an odd choice for a gentleman. That thought, however, was soon vapourised from your mind when he bent down and, whilst maintaining eye contact the entire time, placed a soft kiss to your outstretched hand.

Though you had never experienced the sensation before, you desperately desired for his soft, plump lips to instead be pressed against your own rather than your covered knuckles.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” There was something of a scoff from Rebecca beside you, but you were so focussed on how James’ blue eyes were exuding awe and tenderness whilst staring at you, that you hardly noticed.

“I’m sure you will tell me the truth,” James’ intoxicatingly deep voice was directed at you, “has my sister danced with any eligible bachelors tonight?”

“Oh, hundreds!” You gave a small chuckle, knowing you didn’t sound at all serious. “Not sure how she's still on her feet.” Nudging Rebecca slightly, all she and her brother could do was laugh.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” James added which prompted a snarky ‘not in your lifetime’ remark from his sister.

As the music from the centre of the room concluded the dance, you noticed a hovering group of gentlemen who were bickering as to which of them would be able to ask you and Rebecca who had, up until this point, achieved your goal of not participating in any dances.

“Your Grace, would you do me the honour of a waltz?” You asked with a boldness you were only afforded by the complete despise of wanting to be in the same proximity of any of the men who treated you like someone they were entitled to earlier in the night.

“You’re asking me to dance?” His eyes were wide with pure shock, but it only made them more alluring, deeper and somehow bluer up close, easier to get lost in.

“Only if you want to, of course. But if you do, please do so before that herd of men stampede over here to fill my dance card.” You knew it was generally improper for a lady of your rank to ask a Duke to dance, but you were desperate not to be thrown into the foray of disagreeable men.

With a nervously disbelieving laugh, which seemed to have more to do with not thinking he’d be dancing tonight than your aberrant request, and a quick glance to his sister, James held out his gloved hand and gave you the sweetest smile you had seen on him tonight as he escorted you to the centre of the room.

You felt all eyes turn to you as the room quietened to mere whispers, his joyous smile vanishing completely. James looked as severely uncomfortable being the centre of attention as you felt. You fully expected him to excuse himself and run towards an exit, however, when your gloved hand on his cheek gently directed his gaze back down at you, the anxiety which had seemingly overcome him dissipated as easily as steam.

The horrified whispers of the gentry around the room once again faded to nothing when he looked at you.

The consuming anxieties of the past few weeks concerning what would become of your future dissolved, even when arguably they should be higher than ever. His beautiful eyes had a certain quality to them that alleviated all your worries instantly.

“Ignore them. Just look at me.” You reassured him and that same smile he flashed you earlier crept back onto his features. The knowledge that this handsome man, with the most dazzling smile, was only beaming because of you, took your breath away.

As the music slowly started up again, one of James’ hands took yours gently in his while the other rested on your back, pulling your body ever closer to his. You placed your other hand on his broad shoulder, and though it seemed obvious as soon as he had entered the ball, it was only now you appreciated how tall and muscular his frame was.

Even with two layers of fabric between the skin of his gloved hand and your back, his soft caress sent a shiver down your spine and made you feel so dazed that you barely heard the musical cue to begin the dance steps.

He led you around the room in time to the beat, and it took all your willpower to keep your eyes focussed on his and not let them drift down to his lips. Being so close to him, the combination of his heavenly scent, tender touch and warm breath as his deep voice spoke friendly banter in your ear, made you weak at the knees. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to finish the dance if he kept this up.

Luckily for you, and your knees, for the second time that night the entire room completely stopped and stared at a late arrival. This time however, the Queen herself strode through the doors as those she passed bowed and curtsied with muttered Your Majesty’s. Her eyes flashed to you and your dance partner, a disgruntled expression overtaking her features as she murmured something inaudible to a servant.

Despite the music ceasing, and most of the other couples separating an arms length away from one another, you felt no inclination to remove yourself from the enticing touch of the Duke. However, to your disappointment, he must have felt very differently because as soon as the Queen’s eyes landed on the pair of you, he let go of your embrace instantly and moved a couple steps away.

“A respected lady such as yourself shouldn’t be associated with the likes of me.” He remarked despondently, his beautiful eyes, which you wanted to continue to stare into for eternity, now looked towards the hardwood floor.

“What are you referring to?” You desperately asked as he started to back away from you, weaving between guests, but you followed in need of answers.

“It doesn’t matter. I should never have come tonight.” He quickly said with a shake of his head, prior to hastily making his way back to Rebecca in the secluded corner. Before you had a chance to catch up with him, he was escorting her to the exit and out into the cold night, the memory of his gorgeous blue eyes and the fading imprint of his hand on your back the only mementos you had of your time together.

You only had a moment to mourn the loss of the stranger you arguably had no right to care about as deeply as you did, for the Queen was now centre stage in the ballroom, receiving the attention of every guest, preparing to make a proclamation.

“After what I have seen tonight, I am left with no other option.” Her Majesty declared while shooting you a disapproving look. “I am announcing for the record my diamond of this season is Lady Dorothy Fitzgerald.”

Rather than disappointment at not being named the most eligible lady in court, as your mother had been certain about, your body flooded with relief.

Known affectionately as Dot to her close family and friends, Dorothy was the daughter of a Marquess and, in your opinion, a much more suitable choice for diamond. Perhaps now the gentlemen would leave you alone and you’d be able to disappear into the crowd of gentry, rather than being the dreaded centre of attention.

With the fun for the night now clearly at its end, and more whispers referencing you than ever before, you made the easy decision to take your leave. You quickly sought out your mother and waited with her in the brisk night air for your carriage to be brought around, now feeling the loss of James’ warm touch even more so than inside.

“Your association with that man tonight is the reason why you were not named the season's diamond.” Your mother shook her head indignantly, scoffing under her breath. “After what he’s done, how could you dance with him?”

“Mama, I truly do not know what the Duke has done to deserve this treatment, he was nothing but a gentleman to me; and it is clear that he cares deeply about his sister.” You remarked, perplexed at everyone’s treatment of the only man that had shown you any ounce of kindness this evening.

“Specifics are not for a young lady to know, but during his debut season he tarnished the good name of a young lady, then refused to marry her - and I will not let him do the same to you.”

Dearest Readers,

I shall skip the pleasantries and start out of the gate with the gossip I’m sure you’re all yearning to hear - the Queen has officially named her season’s diamond. However, a singular event at Lady Danbury’s ball last night has comprehensively eclipsed this news.

As predicted, His Grace James Barnes, Duke of Brooklyn, made his first appearance in court since his infamous debut season, arriving late no less. But what set whispers cascading around the room, and the ton, was the scandalous Duke shamelessly dancing centre stage with the debutante who was favoured to be the season's diamond until the announcement last night.

Most seem to think given the Duke’s history, this is a blight on the young lady’s reputation. Personally, I think she may have just hooked the catch of the season.

Even though she will not formally be known as the diamond, I have not given up hope on a love match for this jewel. In truth, after last night, that prospect seems more hopeful than ever.

As we know, diamonds are forged under great pressure, and it seems this young lady will be under a lot more duress than her fellow debutantes.

This season will test if this gem truly can shine!

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

“I told you my appearance would only be a blemish on your marriage prospects Becca. And now, it seems, your friend’s as well.”

There was not a single part of him that wanted to be in attendance tonight, but he knew all young ladies needed someone there as chaperone, looking out for their best interests, and without any parents to do so, that role for Becca fell in his lap.

“You cannot taint something that doesn’t exist, Bucky.” Becca laughed as she stepped foot in their large manor, only to realise Bucky didn’t find the notion at all amusing. No, he indeed found it horrifying. He could live with his reputation being ruined, but that of his sister and her friend? The thought shredded his heart.

“I would not worry Buck, neither of us are all that eager to take a husband anyway.” He knew Becca was only trying to ease his worry, but this statement did the exact opposite.

“She’s not interested in marriage?” That thought somehow terrified him more than any other of the night.

“Why? Are you?” There was a mischievous tone to her voice which Bucky wanted to crush the implication of quickly.

“You know I am not. I am simply happy to see you made a friend in court. That’s not awfully common for the Barnes siblings.”

“Sure you are.” Becca’s signature cheeky smirk didn’t fade from her features as she bid him good night.

Bucky had once thought that this large house he inherited, which was lonely and quiet with only Becca and himself inhabiting it, would be the perfect place to take a loving wife and make it a home by filling it with as many children as she wished to have. However, that dream died along with his reputation years ago.

There were many milestones he had looked forward to prior to the incident, but he now lived an isolated and forlorn life, any companionship beyond Becca and whatever family she chose to have, seemed out of the realm of possibility.

But for a short moment tonight, as he held your body in his arms, your piercing eyes twinkling under the ballroom light, he allowed himself the selfish pleasure of permitting the thought of you being at home within his house to enter his mind.

Bucky had quickly squashed the image as he knew that could not be a reality in this lifetime. There was no point fantasising about a scenario which could never come true, right? Holding out hope for something that would only inevitably break his heart.

Nevertheless, that night all his subconscious wanted to dream of was you. Those eyes he wished to spend a lifetime learning every detail of. That dazzling smile which he craved to be the sole reason for.

The smallest of details would be lost in the haze of dreams once he awoke, but the depiction of you his subliminal envisioned wore his mother’s engagement ring proudly on your left hand.

The following night’s ball at the Royal Palace was a source of pure torture for Bucky. If it weren’t for Becca’s insistence that she wanted her older brother beside her, and the assurance that you would in fact be in attendance, he would have not entertained making an appearance.

Having to brave seeing the Queen herself, who loathed him with every fibre of her being, and face the possibility of being turned away from the ball before even stepping foot in the castle, were two undertakings he would have to contend with, but what was making him most nervous was the likelihood that he would see you again.

Evidently, after making his way into the palace, ignoring the constant disapproving stares and the ‘tut’s’ of reproachful mama’s, it would be a long, agonising wait for Bucky’s eyes to land on you again. The wait, however, was completely worth it, for when you walked into the ball, his scarce memory of you the night before was no match compared to your immersive beauty in person.

The palace, which had been extravagantly decorated for the occasion, was nothing compared to you.

But Bucky couldn’t help but feel solely responsible for the downcast expression on your face as you navigated between the crowd of upperclassmen who refused to meet your eye.

Even with the secluded life he led, Bucky knew the talk of the ton was why the Queen hadn’t named you the diamond. That there must be something so horribly wrong with you that you’d willingly choose to dance with the ostracised Duke of Brooklyn.

However, as soon as you spotted Bucky and Becca, your smile lit up as bright as the sun.

“You look beautiful!” Becca exclaimed, admiring how the soft, detailed fabric and the cut of the dress complimented your figure, taking your hands and excitedly spinning you around. Bucky certainly agreed with her observation, he had never seen someone so exquisite in his life. The beaming smile on both his beloved sisters and your face was reward enough for attending tonight.

After exchanging pleasantries for a minute or two, Becca used the excuse of getting a glass of lemonade to covertly leave Bucky and you alone.

Bucky cleared his throat to give him a couple more seconds to think of something to say. When he looked at you, his brain seemed to cease functioning. The way in which he had abandoned you on the dance floor the previous night was the only thought, other than how stunning you looked, currently in his mind.

“I’m positive you will have been told to stay away from me.” Even though his words might have suggested otherwise, Bucky very much enjoyed your warm presence beside him and appreciated your courage to be seen with him regardless of the consequences of last night's dance.

“Are you asking me to leave you in peace, Your Grace?” The prospect of you departing as quickly as you arrived was like a dagger to his heart.

“No, I specifically do not want you to leave.” Bucky professed, perhaps a little too eagerly. “However, I think it would benefit your reputation to not be seen with me.” Bucky mentally cursed his self-sabotaging behaviour.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Bucky could have sworn in that moment he was floating. If it wasn’t completely inappropriate and would ruin your modesty in front of the gentry, he’d have kissed you right then and there.

“You do not care to know why I have been shunned by the whole court?” Perhaps you already knew, but Bucky highly doubted that - if you truly did know, he was sure a respectable young lady like yourself wouldn’t be speaking with him.

“I truly do not know why these people treat you so poorly, nor do I care for the reason. I do not make it a habit to condemn people based on a singular mistake. You have been nothing but kind to me, Your Grace, and I can see how much love you hold for your sister - I believe that to be much better evidence of your character.” The sincerity in both your voice and eyes had tears forming in his own.

“You’re something else entirely, aren’t you?” His gloved hand delicately brushed your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. Oh the things he wanted to do to you, wanted to make you feel, if only you were truly alone.

How he desired to remove the gloves he used to cloak what was underneath and let his skin finally come into contact with yours. How electrifying that moment would finally be. But Bucky knew he wasn’t ready for that step yet, regardless of his inclination to believe, or perhaps foolishly hope, that you would be untroubled by what he was hiding.

After taking a moment to study his eyes with a hint of a smile on your lips, you finally spoke.

“Would you care to dance, Your Grace?” Bucky’s heart almost jumped out of his chest.

“Even after what resulted from Lady Danbury’s ball?” He chuckled nervously.

“Especially after what happened at yesterday's ball.” A pert smile spread over your features as you grabbed his hand and cheerfully pulled him towards the dance floor, despite you both knowing the gossip that would ensue. The entire action was so endearing that Bucky couldn’t help but smile. Unable to take his eyes off you, he was completely ignorant to the disparaging glares being thrown his way.

The closeness of your body hypnotised him. Bucky wasn’t even sure how he was managing to move about the ballroom as his entire attention was on your eyes. You were captivating, so enthralling that he didn’t want to so much as blink so he could commit the whole night to memory.

How you were gazing at him. Your bewitching smile. That laugh which may soon be the sole reason he woke up every morning. How with just a glance you could make his heart stop in his chest.

He wanted to tell you everything, desired to say that the kindness you had shown him and his sister in the past two days far exceeded the combined compassion from the entire court since the scandal.

That meant the world to them.

You meant the world to him.

But Bucky had never been the best with words, at accurately describing his profound feelings then and there, so instead he smiled, hoping it could convey in part how thankful he was.

When the dance ended, and you were both slightly out of breath, he had a difficult time separating from you. Being in contact with you, though it was through the fabric of gloves, grounded him, provided a source of comfort like nothing else could.

Before he had a chance to articulate the surge of emotions within his chest, your mother stomped into view and he pulled away from your hold.

“Your Ladyship.” Bucky greeted, but she simply ignored his address.

“It’s time we took our leave.” She stated candidly, taking your upper arm a little too firmly for his liking, a look of woe flashing over your face.

“Mama we only just arrived. It would be rude not to stay for a couple more dances.” You attempted to persuade her, though she was having none of it.

“Leave the men wanting more.” Your mother tautly responded, with a finality which declared she wanted no more objections. With a forced smile, you turned back to him.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Your Grace.” You stated earnestly, bending into a small courtesy, before your mother started escorting you from the ballroom.

Bucky kept his eyes trained on you your entire departure, not missing the way you briefly glanced over your shoulder before stepping out into the cool night air when your dazzling eyes locked with his for one last time that evening. He couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere else until he watched your carriage ride off through the large windows of the ballroom, finally out of sight.

He had never met someone with your poise, your wit or the same level of compassion and kindness as you did, and he had certainly never been in the company of someone who elicited the same kaleidoscope of butterflies when he so much as caught a glimpse of your alluring face amongst the crowd of gentry.

Marriages for love were rare to come by in this society, but he desperately wanted to believe when you had danced with him, you felt the same spark he did when your gloved hands met and bodies moved around the dance floor as one. That perhaps you felt even a fraction of the overwhelming breathlessness that he did when your eyes met, and maybe you had the same temptation to be so close that there was no space between you, and let him show you just how beautiful he really thought you were.

What had overcome him? He had barely known you a day, and yet he was already thinking of marriage when he had sworn off the idea of exchanging unsubstantiated wedding vows years ago.

Maybe with you, they wouldn’t be so fabricated.

Now that you were no longer in attendance, the ball seemed rather dull and held no interest for him. So, instead of wasting his time being courteous to those women and their families who might still be able to put his past aside, but were solely concerned with his wealth, Bucky gave his thanks through gritted teeth to Her Majesty for hosting such a delightful ball, informed an overjoyed Rebecca that it was time they took their leave, and escorted her to their carriage awaiting outside.

After spending the night enchanted by your company, it felt particularly lonely riding back to his home with an obvious space beside him, which you would fit in so perfectly, especially with Rebecca unusually quiet opposite him. Though the thought of romantic companionship had terrified him in the past, and the knowledge he still hadn’t revealed both of his biggest secrets to you, he found himself longing to see more of you, to experience that same warm affection that diffused through every inch of him whenever you were in the same room.

In fact, there was a foreign ache burning a hole in his chest which he suspected only your continued presence could soothe.

Bucky was now contemplating going to every social function of the season, braving the repulsive stares and contemptuous whispers, if it meant he would be blessed by your company for even a matter of seconds each time.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Rebecca’s voice cut through the serene silence in the carriage. Bucky didn’t know how to answer the question - did he like you? Of course he did, what was not to like? The more difficult reaction to hide was his suspicion that his feelings already ran much deeper than simply liking you.

But his younger sister had always been an expert at reading his countenances, there was nothing he could hide from her. A grin formed on Becca’s lips, and Bucky could tell she already knew the answer to her own question.

Though the odds were stacked against him with your mothers interference, and it seemed improbable for the likes of someone as unsociable as himself, Bucky set foot in his home believing he could have found what every eligible person entering court hopes to discover.

A true love match.

Part 2 > >

Be added to the taglist here

Everything taglist: @imagining-harrypotter @tripletstephaniescp @asgardwinter @demonpoxballad @nagygreta @libbymouse @mayasreadingnook @thecraziestcrayon @hallecarey1 @sea040561 @chrisfucksblog @smallmercies33 @buckysbirdie @moongoddessmox @coolbeans32 @foreverindreamlandd @pitifulbaby @seitmai @fanatic-in-the-lobby

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

Text

A Correspondence of Obligation - One

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader (Royal AU)

Summary: Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: None!

a/n: This is clarified in a later chapter, but just to make sure no one is thrown out of their reading of this fic—Steve is the readers “cousin”, but they hold basically no blood relation. He is considered a duke of Hyland, but their relation is very far removed. I only did this to make him a royal in her court :) Enjoy reading and let me know what you think!! ♡♡

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Riding in a carriage always gave you a terrible headache. The wooden slats on the walls groaned each time rickety wheels mounted the rocks and the roots of the forest. Trees flew by in blurs, but just slow enough to catch your gaze and leave you dizzy. And with each huff of the horses you felt yourself growing more and more agitated.

How could you not? You were roused out of bed this morning before the sun had even greeted the sky. They shoved you into a corset before the birds began their song outside your window.

All for a man—as was everything in your life.

“You could at least attempt to look excited,” Natasha sighed, an arched brow raised at you from across the carriage.

You blinked at her, pulling the book in your lap up to your chest, unable to read it with the jostling in the cab. You knew bringing it would be pointless, but ever since Steve had gifted you with The History of Brookshire for your twenty-first birthday a while back, the pages rarely left your grip. “And are you excited, Lady Natasha?”

“Are we truly resorting to titles, Your Highness? Are you that upset with me?”

You thumbed at the corner of the novel, pressing the pad of your finger into the worn paper. You were never really upset with Natasha. Disappointed, yes, but you knew your request last night was a far fetched notion; just the whims of a silly girl, desperate to break away from her own fate.

“Perhaps I am upset,” you admitted. “But you know better than anyone that it is no fault of your own.”

Your lady in waiting reached across the bench, grabbing your hand in a soft grip. “I do not think it will be all that bad. Prince James is said to be a most benevolent man. There are no stories of him that would warrant us running away in the night.”

You bit your lip and turned to the window, embarrassed. You wondered how long she would hold that over your head. Once your tears had subsided, the two of you had quite the laugh in your quarters the night before; the thought of you trying to survive in the woods was truly comical. Natasha was resourceful, but not enough to keep a princess alive for very long.

“Well I hope those stories ring true.” You kept your gaze fixed on the castle slowly coming into view—stories of cobblestone high, glittering waters at its base, rolling hills of juniper grass in the forefront. Maybe you would paint it if the dread in your stomach wasn’t all-consuming. “Because if they do not, this life will be more bleak than it already is.”

“You know I would let no harm come to you, princess.”

“It is not harm I am afraid of, Natasha. I can handle harm.”

There were trumpets in the distance—close enough to make out their melody but far enough away that the horses’ hooves still took precedence in the space. Your announcer must have made it to the castle already. Maybe the prince was standing outside, awaiting your carriage with his hands firmly behind his back, a smile made for the monarchy permanently impressed upon his face.

Maybe he wasn’t.

“I am simply afraid that I have let myself down in hoping for the impossible.”

The people of your kingdom had never greeted you this way. Flowers were flung at the ground below the horses, the trumpets you detected earlier were loud from behind the glass windows of your carriage; children danced and women held their hands over their hearts as you drove past.

It was jarring how much the people of Brookshire seemed to love their future queen when they had yet to even meet her. It was as if the mere sight of you sent them into a frenzy, as if you were a rare gift bestowed upon them.

It was nothing like the half-hearted glances you received back home, your loyal subjects treating you like an ornament that was displayed on holidays and placed on a shelf for the rest of the year. But you had grown accustomed to those looks; you learned to look to the ground when entering rooms with your father, to not stray too far from the castle unless completely necessary.

You fiddled with the tulle lining your dress, knocking your heels against the bench as the carriage wheels rolled over cobblestone instead of forest shrubbery. Perhaps you should be smiling and waving to those on the street overrun with joy at the mere sight of you. But if you were being honest—and in a completely unladylike turn of phrase—you felt like you were going to vomit.

“Natasha, perhaps you could pretend to be me. I will act as your lady and you can marry Prince James,” you rambled, plucking up the courage to spare a glance outside. “Yes, I think that would be a wonderful idea. No one knows what I look like. Here, I’ll give you my crown and if they ask about the dress we can just say—”

“Princess,” Natasha interrupted, a smirk covering her tinge of worry. “I hate to inform you of this, but your cousin tells me that Prince James knows exactly what you look like.”

You reared back, eyes wide. “And how would he know that?”

“Do you remember the portrait Steven had done for the drawing room? Have you ever gone to look at it?”

“I do not go in the drawing room.”

“I know.”

“Forgive me,” you gaped. “But am I to believe that Steve just gave Prince James a portrait of me without him asking for it? That is so embarrassing, I feel as if I am actually going to be sick.”

Natasha scoffed, leaning back into her shaking seat. “All this time and you still do not believe that that man is half in love with you already,” she mumbled. “No, Prince James asked for one. He had it commissioned actually—said he did not want something too many others had seen.”

“Oh, I’m sure those were his exact words.”

Just like every time you had this conversation, Natasha dropped into a softer tone. “Not every man is like those in Hyland.” A long sigh, deep within her chest. “I wish you had had more experience before this. Met more people maybe—men like Steven.”

The carriage jolted just as you opened your mouth to quip back, and that argument was lost on your lips instantly; you couldn’t even recall the words as they drowned in the anxiety that now bubbled in your throat. You had to steady yourself on the window when the door swung open.

The air here was warm and inviting, wisps of citrus on your lips as the breeze filtered through the door and hit the back windows. Honeyed rays lit up your knuckles, glinting in the gems on your fingers and uncovering the layers of your gown that were seemingly unnecessary here. And at the base of the carriage was a hand—a single, gloved hand that you knew belonged to a squire waiting to help you down and begin your new life.

You took a dubious glance at Natasha, who simply gave you a reassuring nod and one of her famous smirks before gathering the train of your dress for your exit. She always had too much faith in you. With one last, harrowing breath, you collected your wits and slid your hand into the squire’s.

It was instantaneous—the relief.

Your home of Hyland had two, very distinct, places in your mind. There was the place with iced over streams and lilac skies. A breeze that froze your cheeks, but in a comforting way; like being kissed by frosted lips and caressed by silk that had stayed out in the snow overnight. Owls that came out when they weren’t supposed to and hail that crunched under soles even when the ground was marble instead of grass. There was the place your mother raised you, a haven where you and Steve knocked over logs and slid on frozen lakes.

But then there was the place that took up a larger portion of your memory. Dark corners and whispers you were meant to hear. A fur coat casting a shadow over your frame, always reminding you that you weren’t needed yet, that you wouldn’t be needed until you were gone. Lessons that hurt your hands and heels that hurt your feet. Doors with too many locks on them and voices—so many voices—telling you that you weren’t to touch them, that the locks were there to keep you safe.

And maybe Brookshire would afford you much of the same. Maybe the beauty of this kingdom would become second to the treatment you received. But for this moment, however fleeting it was, you decided to pretend that there would only be one place in your brain for Brookshire—the place with glittering gravel and temperate skies.

“Princess, you must move forward if you would like your dress to follow you,” Natasha all but snickered.

You quickly shuffled forward on the steps of the carriage, leaning heavily on the squires hand in an attempt to stabilize yourself. “Sorry, I’m terribly sorry,” you mumbled, glancing up at the boy with apologetic eyes.

“Oh, uh, that’s okay—Your Highness, I mean. That’s okay, Your Highness,” he blushed, shifting eyes not quite meeting yours. “I’m Peter—sorry, I’m not supposed to talk to you. Ignore me, I’m just supposed to help you down.”

“You can talk to me. I am not going to get you in trouble.”

“Oh! Oh, okay well, uh, hello.”

“Hello, Peter,” you giggled. None of the squires back home were interested in talking to you. Peter’s slight blush and awkward stammering was a nice change of pace. “It was nice to meet you.”

He bowed with clumsy arms and clinking armor; a proper bow, unlike the head nods you were used to. Natasha was guiding you away before you could allow yourself to tear up and you were thankful. Crying within the first five minutes in your new kingdom was probably bad for image purposes.

“He was certainly excited,” Natasha teased.

You sent her a look, but that was all you were capable of as you rounded the carriage and met the crowd. It was time to be ‘on’ as your father would say; time to create an image of a strong front within the crown. You were to smile, but not too much. Nod politely at those who looked the most excited and accept flowers from the children even though those flowers were instantly passed to your father.

Just what you’d been doing since your mother fell ill.

And you did it without fail, but you couldn’t help the fleeting glances you kept making toward the castle steps. You counted four people there—the king, the queen, Steve, and a knight. Unless Prince James was playing dress up, he wasn’t there.

You knew it shouldn’t hurt this much. If anything, you should be excited that you were finally right and Natasha was wrong. That never happened. But the small blinks you took up at the empty spot on the stairs were each a painful jab to the gut, and suddenly, it didn’t feel very good to be right.

“He said he was going to be here,” Natasha muttered. “Something must have come up. He would not miss this.”

You let out a sigh. It was covered with a smile. “I am not upset.”

“You are. And that is going to drive him insane.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to focus on Steve’s bright smile just a few feet away from you. You could pretend this was just a visit with Steve in some strange court he was residing in. Yes, that made this entrance a lot easier.

You took your time to greet and bow to the king and queen—George and Winnie they told you to call them. A surprising introduction to be sure. Even your father made you call him by his title, especially in public. George and Winnie had smiles that were much more welcoming than anything your father could even attempt to pull off, so maybe there was a difference there. Perhaps the apple just fell far from the tree in this family.

A quick bow to Steve and a parting wave to the crowd and you were being ushered inside, welcomed by more formal talk in the entryway. Steve promised to show you around the castle and the king and queen apologized profusely for their son’s absence before leaving themselves. It wasn’t until you could no longer hear their heels clicking against marble that you let your posture shift.

“Well, shall we go and see the dining room? Princess, I know that you enjoy beautiful views and the window there—oof.”

You slammed your body into Steve’s before he could continue his speech. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his laugh reverberated in your chest, and then he was picking you up in your formal dress, hugging you in the same way he’d done since you were children.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered into his shoulder. “Hyland felt so empty while you were gone.”

Steve released you, setting you down but keeping you at arm’s length with a pitiful expression. “I’m sorry, y/n, you know I hate leaving you there. But as a duke you know I have to respond to invitations to court.”

“Well, yes, I understand that. But is there a reason you were gone for so long? Court proceedings only take a few weeks.”

“Things went a little differently here,” Steve smiled. A genuine smile, one he didn’t usually display when he talked about his title. “Buck—Prince James’ court feels more like a family. They kept asking me to stay and the prince had so many questions about you and time sort of got away from me.”

You furrowed your brows. “Are you telling me that you’ve been enjoying your time in court, Steve?”

He gave your chin a fond tap. “I dare say I have. And I know you will as well.”

“Of course,” you agreed, because you had already had this discourse with Natasha; there was no need to hash it out with your cousin as well.

And so, Steve showed you around the castle. A spring castle, he called it, with sprawling hallways and wide-open windows to let the sunlight in. The dining room had the beautiful view he hinted at before, a glittering ocean laid out for one to enjoy while they ate at the table with deep tawny tones. A library with shelves that needed a ladder and a polished ballroom with art from every age.

Natasha commented on the fields just outside the stables, and Steve gave her a knowing look. The training grounds, he called them, and she could visit once you were more settled in. Steve was one of the only people in Hyland that knew Natasha could fight, other than your father and his closest guards. A woman fighting was frowned upon there, but your father had made an exception if it meant keeping you safe. So he could marry you off of course.

“Will she be safe to train here?” you asked, lip between your teeth in a way that would get you an extra fifteen lines in etiquette lessons.

“More than safe,” Steve assured. “Many women here make up the king’s guard.”

You took a step back at his words, Natasha’s hands coming out to steady you when you ran directly into her. “They are allowed to do that? Prince James does not find it offensive?”

His smile was sad. “Y/n, the way you were treated in Hyland—it wasn’t…typical. Your father had an unusual way of dealing with his grief.”

“I do not understand.”

“I know you don’t, but James will help you to see. He talks about you so often, y/n—about all the things he wants to do with you. You should see the room he has set up for you. There is a door that leads to the—“

“Please don’t do this,” you interrupted. “Please don’t act like this is something it’s not.”

You watched as his face fell, the realization that you weren’t going to budge set deep in the worry lines on his forehead. He couldn’t help the way his shoulders slumped as you fidgeted with your fingers at your waist—a nervous habit, one Miss Austeen hadn’t been able to make you stop. He recognized it easily; the action was a near constant fixture back in Hyland.

Natasha decided to cut in. “Perhaps this is a discussion for later. After y/n has had more time to get acquainted with the prince. Right now all she has is an idea of him and all of the words we keep throwing at her.”

Steve sighed, but you had had enough of the awkwardness in the hall. With a frustration you usually reserved for the passageways between the walls of your home castle, you quipped, “Or, perhaps, this is not a discussion to be had at all. I know how royals operate. If Prince James was truly the man you say he is, then he would have made the time in his ever-busy schedule to at least say hello to me upon my arrival. A prince has the ability to move around meetings. He is only everything I expected and I do not appreciate the two of you—“

“Did I miss her? Steve, help me put this jacket on, quickly. I can’t miss her arriving.” The new voice in the hall echoed behind a quickened pace, and you spun to find it attached to a man, struggling to fit his arms into a military jacket.

He hadn’t seen you yet; his long, wavy hair fell into his eyes as the material finally shrugged over his shoulders, but he still kept his face down, straightening out his belt and boots.

And then he looked up.

Every portrait you’d seen of Prince James hardly did him justice. His eyes were the blue you’d seen through acrylic many times before, but no artist had ever been able to capture that comfort in those cobalt hues, the easiness that settled into the irises and trailed out, encapsulating him as a whole. His hair was long and luscious as the stories went, but with a hint of boyishness to it as wrapped behind his ear and bloomed around the frame of his face. And he was tall—a lean kind of tallness, a strength hidden behind coats and formal wear.

Your lips parted when he spotted you. Your eyes widened when he gaped. A whole lifetime of hearing his name, of seeing his picture in the halls of the gallery, and now here he was. Maybe you should have said something, been proper, but with words evading you, that seemed to be impossible.

“My god,” Bucky whispered. His grip around the handle of his sword tightened.

A beat of silence followed. Steve shifted off of the wall he was leaning against and Natasha came to stand closer to your side. You still said nothing, and thought that maybe you would never be able to say a single thing again. How could a man so beautiful ever be the things you thought him to be?

Bucky cleared his throat and removed his gloves with a slight tremor, tucking them into his pocket. “I apologize,” he stressed. “I was caught up with the children in the village by the time I heard the music. I never would have missed your entrance willingly, My Princess.”

You blinked. The first thing this man—a prince—had said to you, and it was an apology. You couldn’t recall the last time anyone of power had apologized to you. Another pause, and Bucky took a cautious step forward, his posture fidgety.

“I understand if you are upset with me. Your first impression and I am already making mistakes.”

“I am not upset,” you quickly assured. A practiced response, because it wouldn’t really matter if you were upset anyway. “Steven was just showing me through the castle. I was not expecting you until tomorrow. For the walk.”

A clear lie that burned your lips as it left them. You were very much expecting him to be the one to guide you around his home; after all the letters you assumed he was going to be tracking your every move, enraptured by your presence. But you didn’t tell anyone that. Because Bucky, above all else, was a ruling monarch—not a boy in love with you.

It was silly to let your mind wander to impossibilities.

He reared back anyway, concern evident in the way his jaw flexed. “For the walk—princess, forgive me, but do you only plan on seeing me when we are meant to court? Because I can assure you, I will not be able to survive that.” Another half-step to you, this time taking your knuckles into his grip. He ran a thumb over the skin. “I have much more planned than simple walks around the garden. And I have no intention of solely seeing you in front of an audience.”

“You want to see me… without an audience?” You voiced your confusion aloud, throwing Natasha a bewildered look. Even Steve had to request an audience to visit you back home. The audience was mainly Natasha, but the formality was still there.

“I want to see you in every capacity I am able. If you are comfortable, of course,” Bucky smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your hand.

You blinked at him, lashes fluttering in the most obvious way. The tug in your chest was back, the one that only seemed to leave you breathless after one of the princes’ many letters. He still held your hand in his, but even that small point of contact was sending you reeling and you needed to gain some footing if you were going to pull yourself together; if you were to protect yourself as you’d done for years, you had to maintain your front.

“I have had a very long journey,” you began, straightening out your back.

Natasha caught on instantly. “The princess will need a bath and a long rest before there is courting of any kind.” A steady, familiar hand on your shoulder. “If you do not mind, we will be seeing you in the morning, Your Highness.”

“Of course,” Bucky affirmed, but his eyes never left your face as he spoke.

Those eyes followed you down the hall as well, burning a hole in the back of your head and lighting a fire beneath your skin that you wished would dwindle the farther you got from him. But it seemed with just the introduction, the whisper of his lips across your hand, your heart was making decisions that did not line up with your brain.

Before the door to the hall clicked shut, a few words fell through the cracks of the wood. “I told you to take it easy with her. Is that what you call easy, Prince ‘every capacity I am able’?”

“Well, excuse me, but I had no idea that she was going to look like that. Your portrait artist is terrible, Steve. Really, truly terrible.”

Silk sheets on your legs, a window that looked right out to the ocean, moonlight pooling at the base of your curtains; you couldn’t sleep with so many thoughts bouncing around in your head, so you took in your room instead.

Steve had said that the prince picked it out especially for you. You weren’t sure where the small details were, other than the door that led right into Natasha’s quarters, but you found your accommodations to be far from lacking. They never were when you were titled.

Natasha had made quick work of getting you to bed earlier, brushing your hair and ripping the corset from your body in record time. You knew she could sense your discomfort, your need to lay down for a while and process the events of the evening. That didn’t stop her few, sporadic comments about the prince—how he was achingly sweet and so romantic for requesting to see you outside of courting hours.

So, you reminded her, like any normal couple that wasn’t joining two kingdoms with their arranged union.

She gave up after that, but you knew she would simply carry on tomorrow.

With a huff, you slapped your palms against the comforter. It was much lighter than any you had at home, certainly appropriate for the weather here in Brookshire. Perhaps you could learn to knit the way they did here, with the stitches farther apart to allow the breeze to touch skin. Or maybe Natasha could learn if they wouldn’t let you. She would surely pass the information on to you if you asked her to.

A knock pulled you out of your mundane train of thought, sparking anxiety as you laid on a new bed in an unfamiliar castle. It wasn’t a harsh knock, but you only knew a handful of people here. You had a guard, didn’t you? Even in a place like Hyland, a guard was always standing at your door.

Another knock, this one even more timid than the first. You swung your legs off of the side of your bed and shook your head to collect yourself. The stone floor nipped at your bare feet, a reminder, maybe, that this could all go terribly wrong if you didn’t make the smart choice and wake Natasha next door.

But then a voice spoke from behind the heavy wood, and your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Princess? Are you awake?”

You hadn’t meant for the words to leave you, but in your surprise, you quickly asked, “Prince James?”

“Yes. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was just—do you mind opening the door?”

By some instinct, you reached for the handle almost instantly. Your hand froze on the metal. “I shouldn’t,” you replied, the words meeting strong wooden doors. “It is past appropriate hours and I am not even wearing a robe.”

A small laugh from the hall, a brush at the door. “What if I turn around? I promise I will not look anywhere but the wall.”

“Why even open the door at that point?”

“To hear you better.”

“Are you struggling terribly now?”

“Well—no,” he paused. Part of you feared you had taken this conversation too far, until he chuckled again, breathily. “But I cannot fit what I have for you through the crack under the door.”

With furrowed brows, you trained your eyes down to the light that snuck through the gap above the floor. There wasn’t much room there, only enough for a piece of paper or a small book.

“And what is it that you have?”

“Steve tells me that you enjoy surprises. Was he wrong?”

You snorted, unable to help yourself. “Steven’s idea of a surprise is a frog snuck onto my plate at breakfast.”

Bucky’s laugh was full this time; the sound left a tightness in your chest. You hadn’t let go of the handle just yet, and your heart was once again making terrible decisions, urging you to take a small peak outside.

“I promise I do not have a frog,” Bucky continued. You heard him take a few steps in the hall. “I’m not even facing you anymore. I’ll hold it out and you can grab it and it will be like I was never here.”

“And you will not surprise me by turning around?”

“I would never trick you, princess.”

You glanced up at the ceiling with a prickle of agitation. Natasha had made it clear that you needed time to rest before the courting period began, but here the prince was, knocking at your door as if he knew you were having trouble sleeping. He was making it very hard to separate your outlandish hopes from your realistic ideations, to settle your racing heart for long enough to remember the entire reason you were here.

You weren’t in this court chasing love; women in your position never had that luxury, especially women from Hyland. But maybe the prince thought differently. Maybe he had been the one writing you letters and asking for your portraits.

You turned the handle. The door echoed in the hall.

Prince James stood a few paces away, his back turned and his tunic slightly askew, holding a mug in his right hand. He had no formal wear in sight, his hair was slightly mused, and you had the sneaking suspicion that perhaps he had just gotten out of bed as well.

“This is hot chocolate,” Bucky explained, after a few silent moments. “I did some research on Hyland and many sources claimed that it is a popular drink there. I figured you might want something from home��on your first night here.”

The marble in the hall was even colder on your feet than the stone in your room, but you braved it anyway; the heat of the mug was enough compensation in itself. Your fingers brushed the back of Bucky’s hand when you pulled away. His arm fell to his side with a slight flex.

“Thank you,” you whispered, once you were back in the safety of your doorway. “You did not have to do that.”

Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to. Please, if you ever want for anything while you are here, you just need to tell me.”

You thought about asking him to turn around.

That was definitely something you wanted.

“Goodnight, Prince James,” you replied instead, but his posture didn’t slump at the missing words.

“Goodnight, My Princess.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #prince!bucky #royal au #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #a correspondence of obligation

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