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「Hell's Kitchen」 · Masterlist

SYNOPSIS ➥ His exquisite culinary skills as the base, his wholesomeness as the main ingredient, and his magnetism as the zest—it's the perfect recipe to have a full house at his restaurant every damn day, but the packaging so doesn't impress you. You know what an absolute ass this charming young chef is back in the kitchen. Much to your dismay, after a particularly stressful night of service, you start having intense and elaborate wet dreams about him that make you question a lot of things.

And judging by how knowingly he smiles at you the morning after, it seems like he knows.

※ This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

➥ Genre/Trope: Workplace Romance, Angst, Slowburn, E2L

➥ Ongoing · Latest update: Course VI

⛔ — Not suitable for readers who might get triggered by rough play and/or themes of sexual deviance. The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve tension and some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.

➥ Reader discretion advised — Adult themes, strong language, explicit sexual content, supernatural elements (dream control), self-love and anger management issues, sex as a coping mechanism, trust and intimacy building, less-than-ideal work environment, sexual tension, sexual deviance, themes of objectification & perversion, graphic fantasizing, overarching mutual corruption kink, depictions of certain kinks and fetishes which may be disturbing to some (everything is consensual—see respective chapters where applicable).

➥ Early access content — Chapters 1-5 are publicly available: Subscribers have fast pass to new chapters, but you can read them for free six weeks after their original release date. Become a subscriber for fast pass, or follow me on Ream to get notified when new chapters become publicly available.

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「© 2021-2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

bestie i love

Firefighter!Miguel Part 2

content warning: the urge to use AAVE was slipping through the nerves of my fingers. I tried to hold off, so if you see something that looks grammatically different, then it’s probably AAVE that I couldn’t NOT add. this is all fluff too! there are also mentions of food, but that's a norm for these drabbles

word count: 2.2k, proofread! (I think there's no mistakes 😭)

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“Eileen! Is that you?!”

You internally groaned as your grandma hopped out of the motorized shopping cart to greet yet another person.

The trip to the grocery store to buy ingredients turned into a meet & greet with the star being your grandmother knowing everyone in the town.

You felt loopy, going from almost burning down your house to contemplating whether or not the hot fire captain would prefer yams or potato salad. Maybe both?

You grumbled to yourself as you scanned the aisle for a specific brand of cookies for some banana pudding. If all else fails, this was a dessert you could make with no oven.

“And now we’re here, trying to find this child something to cook with,” you heard your grandma fuss out. Why did your business have to be the topic of the conversation?

You turned and walked the short distance to your grandma and another woman who was….her old coworker? Her church member? Or maybe they went to school together….

“Good morning Ms. Eileen,” you say, thankful that you caught her name. You couldn’t keep up with everyone like your grandma.

“Is this the baby?!” she says, shocked eyes going from you to your grandma and back to you.

Your grandma nodded, a smile growing on her face.

“Child, I haven’t seen you since you were this little!” she says, holding her hand about 2 feet off the ground. She turns back to your grandma, “This can’t be the baby!”

You stand there with your lips in a line as you wait for the realization that at least two decades have gone by since you’ve last seen her.

Or more like since she’s seen you. You’re still trying to gather who she is.

“Yeah, this is my grandchild! All grown up and now we’re trying to win over a husband,” your grandma says, shaking your arm.

You wanted a hole to swallow you up or possibly grow some wings so that you could take flight. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“A husband?!” Ms. Eileen smiles mischievously. “Who are you trying to marry?”

“Uh-”

“Honey, this child got the Fire Chief ringing my doorbell!”

“He’s actually the Fire Captain-” you mumble, trying to get your two cents in

Ms. Eileen holds your hands and starts doing an excited bounce as she vocalizes her excitement.

“I need to get right then if we’re fixin’ to have a wedding!” she said, gesturing to her hair as if to fix it.

“It’ll be soon! Just wait and see!” your grandma says, putting her hands back on the handlebars of the car. “Let us go on and buy the rest of this stuff. We’ve got a lot to do. It was good to talk with you!”

Your grandma starts to move forward, somewhat ignoring Ms. Eileen as she started to open her mouth again.

“Leave me some of that food ok?” she calls out.

“If there’s any left, I’ll let you know!” your grandma says as she turns down the aisle.

You chase after her, waving to Ms. Eileen as you leave.

“Who was she again?” you ask as you two go down a new aisle.

“Eileen Wilkins from the school.” So she was a coworker! “She still doesn’t know how to stop talking, though.”

Your laugh sneaks out of you as you watch your grandma stop at some seasonings.

“Why do you say that? You were keeping the conversation up.”

“I was just being nice! It was fine until she started bragging about that granddaughter of hers. That girl doesn’t know her left from her right. How she make it to nursing school?”

“Maybe she’s a hard worker!” you respond.

Your grandma snorts, “Yeah. Working hard at paying somebody else to do her work.”

You just shake your head at your grandma. What are you going to do with this woman?

“Will you call the number already?”

“I don’t really want to do that,” you say, tapping your foot against the ground.

This would be the fourth station within the area that you called with no record of a "Captain O'Hara." You were starting to believe that you and your grandma made him up. Just a small figment of both of your imaginations. What your grandma saw as a suitor and what you saw as a hot guy just trying to do his job.

"You need to want to call," your grandma, responds. "We didn't get all of this food made for nothing. And you're wearing my good necklace! He won't know what hit him when sees you."

You both decided on soul food. Tin pans full of food for the entire crew from greens to mac to fried catfish. Then, there was a hefty styrofoam takeout plate made especially for him. Your banana pudding for him in a tupperware container with Nilla wafers patterned along the side.

Not to mention, you spent an unhealthy amount of time deciding which scent you should wear.

You looked infinitely better than you did when he last saw you with ingredients dusting your front and smoke coming out of your windows.

Still, it would all be for nothing if you couldn’t find his station.

While yon were staring off, your grandma tapped your phone, impatience riddling her frame.

“Grandma!” you shout, holding your phone as if it were a game of hot potato.

“Just ask if he’s there!” your grandma says.

“That’s not how this works-”

“Station 29, this is Captain O’Hara speaking.”

“Hi! Hello,” you turn back to the phone in a rush, embarrassed that he might have heard you and your grandma. You introduce yourself properly this time, saying that you wanted to bring some dinner down to the crew.

You hear a noise of shock as he starts to speak again, “That would be amazing actually. The crew was just trying to decide what to eat. When can we expect you?”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” you say, a little too quickly to be honest.

“Perfect. We’ll see you then!”

You end the call and look up to your grandma who’s staring at you with a small smile.

“Now you tell him to bring back my good tupperware,” she says, instantly switching back to her regular self.

You just shake your head. Grandmas will be grandmas.

“I’m just trying to get you a good man!” she fussed. “And that’s my good tupperware. He’ll hear from me until I get it back.”

“And who were you just on the phone with? You’re smiling real hard there.”

“Shut up Parker,” Miguel fired back. “And why are you even in here. Aren’t you supposed to be washing T29 right now?”

“I finished that an hour ago, thank you very much. You’re so touchy!”

Miguel got up and shuffled Peter out of his office, “I’m not touchy. You’re just irritating me like usual.”

“Oh my god? You do have someone you’re talking to,” Peter says as he digs his feet into the ground, stopping Miguel. “How come you didn’t tell me? Is it that lady with the tree-loving cat? No! It’s the guy whose dog keeps getting stuck in the wall! There’s a theme here.”

“No, I’m not- Will you move? I’m not dating anyone with daredevil pets,” Miguel responded, trying to push Peter in a new spot.

“Cap is dating?” Ben asks as he walks by the two bickering like cats. “When can we see them?”

“I’m not dating-”

“Miguel! You didn’t tell me anything,” Jess says as she comes down the hallway.

“Why won’t you ever address me as Captain?”

“I will if you tell me who you’re dating,” she says with a smile on her face.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” Miguel mumbles, letting Peter fall to the ground instead of fighting him.

“Well if you weren’t talking to your lover, who was that?” he asks from the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

“While you all were slacking, I was making sure that everyone goes home with a full stomach. Remember the kitchen fire from earlier this week? They’re bringing some food for us.”

“Will it be safe to eat?” Ben says, eyes flittering to Jess nervously.

“It was a broken gas line, you idiot,” Jess says with her mouth turned sideways. “At least wait until the food is here before you judge it.”

“No way,” Peter says from the ground. “You put them in your lap and now they’re bringing you food.”

Miguel lightly kicks Peter in the thigh, making him scream out a scale of keys.

“That face gets so many people,” Jess sighs annoyingly.

Firefighter!Miguel who jogs out to the car when you arrive. No, he wasn’t watching the clock or his cameras. He just happened to see some movement in one of the security cameras.

He opens the door for you, helping you out of the car.

It’s like you’re a totally different person from the frantic little baker from earlier.

“Can you help me get the plates out of the trunk?” you say, voice barely reaching his ears with how soft you’re speaking.

“Of course,” he replies.

He manages to carry all four hot tins of food, leaving you with just two plastic bags to carry.

Firefighter!Miguel who places the tins on the table with ease.

“Is there anything else?” Peter asks, walking up to his side.

“No, I think this was all of the tins,” Miguel replied with his hands on his hips.

“Show off,” Peter whispers with a smile on his face. He patted his shoulder and walked towards the entrance.

Miguel blushed, realizing how that might have read to you.

Firefighter!Miguel whose eyebrows raise as you hold him back from getting in line, a plastic bag aimed towards him.

“I made you a separate plate. You were especially kind to me and I wanted to show my appreciation,” you say with a smile on your face.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the bag. “Should I give you the verdict?”

Your heart beats faster, watching his pretty face light up. You nod your head, hopeful that he’ll love the food.

Firefighter!Miguel who has you sit next to him at the table. The crew is quiet for once. Nothing but smacks and the shuffling of cups could be heard.

“Don’t be rude, guys. Say thanks,” Miguel chides at his crew.

At the sound of his voice, everyone starts thanking you profusely.

Miguel starts to open his bag and you feel like you could break out in a sweat.

You watch as he opens the plate and his eyes go big.

“Hey, how come he gets the extra stuff?” Ben whines from the end of the table.

Jess elbows him to shut him up, eyes throwing daggers.

You may or may not have added some fried chicken and potato salad to his plate.

You wait anxiously as he takes a bite.

Is it weird that you counted the seconds as he chewed?

“Damn, that’s good,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

If everyone could hear your thoughts, they’d truly be terrified at the screams going on right now.

“You like it?” you ask, biting your lip.

“This might be the best food I’ve had in a while,” he replies back. “Thank you!”

Your smile grows, watching as he tears away at his food. His laser focus doesn’t stop him from smacking Peter’s hand away from his banana pudding.

Firefighter!Miguel who walks you back to the car. Everyone was chatting and laughing at the table. The after-food glow on all of their faces.

“Everything was really delicious. Thank you for this. You didn’t have to,” he says as he opens your door.

“Stop, I really wanted to thank you guys. You all are the true heroes. Oh! And my grandma would really appreciate it if you brought her container back.”

Miguel chuckles, giving you that pretty smile of his. He looked so pretty that way. The black shirt he was sporting was hugging him just right too.

“Of course,” he responded. “We still have to check out your kitchen too, yeah?”

You nod, shocked that he remembered.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you my number and we can work that out tomorrow.”

He hands you a card, writing down what you assume is his personal number. As he hands the card to you, your heart picks up as his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll see you then,” he says, waiting for you to get in your car before he closes it. He taps the hood and walks backwards, watching as you back out of the driveway.

You give him a little wave and squeal to yourself when gives a hearty one back.

Firefighter!Miguel who is hounded by his crew when he gets back inside.

Some of them are making kissy faces and the others are patting his back in encouragement.

“Would you all get back to work?” he sighed, annoyed at all of the attention.

He moved fast to his office, face in flames.

Firefighter!Miguel who groans out when he scoops some banana pudding in his mouth.

You were good. Really good.

He makes an angry face as he takes another bite, “My god.”

“Oo, they got you real good,” Jess snickers as she steals a bite of his dessert.

“Hey!” he said, moving too late to stop her.

She laughs as she runs from his office. Miguel gets up and locks the door, making sure that no one else could steal his food.

It was specifically made for him, after all.

divider by: @dollywons + @starzyyy1 ❤️‍🔥

a/n: Special thanks to @slushycoookie for giving me ideas! It was brilliant and much needed ☺️

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whiskeyed darlings ( the taste of honey chapter 3 ) 18+

pairing: young aristocrat hyunjin x f!reader | wc: 42.3k | genre: 19th century au, arranged marriage, romance, smut | warnings: period-appropriate themes & customs including mentions of nobility and parental abuse (emotional / physical) ; virgin!reader ; mutual pining ; slowest burn ; angst ; heavy fantasizing ; view all compiled warnings here. This work is for adult audiences only. This work portrays themes & actions that might trigger some, reader discretion is advised.

You could live being unloved by him, but you couldn’t live without him. This, you knew with certainty.

Hyunjin’s mother was dying, and people had all sorts of things to say about that.

“Poor boy, after what happened to Lord Hwang… his mother, too?” 

“Her ladyship has suffered enough—if God is kind, he will come get her soon.”

“The boy has darkness in his eyes. Didn’t you see it? He has the same demons in his soul as his father did, and he will know the same fate.”

“Isn’t it a blessing that Lady Hwang’s babies didn’t hold? As if God himself was trying to put an end to this cursed bloodline…”

People had all sorts of things to say about his mother, his father, about himself, about his stillborn siblings, but they never said it to Hyunjin’s face. He was twelve years old but he was no fool—he understood the situation perfectly. He knew why his father had been killed but he couldn’t figure out why it had happened like that. Hyunjin had learned the meaning of the word cuckold when he heard it whispered between some of his father’s associates and he had gone to Christopher for an explanation. 

“Where did you hear that, Hyunjin?” Christopher had been spending more time on Hwang Estate to help keep things in order. “Who’s saying that to you?”

“Nobody’s saying it to me. I just heard Mr. Tanaka and Doctor Yun through the window…”

Christopher sighed, a deep sigh, the same kind as his mother had sometimes, and she was dying. For a few seconds, Hyunjin wondered if Chris had caught his mother’s illness and if he was going to die, too. Hyunjin didn’t have any friends, but he had Lord Christopher. A friend, a brother, and sometimes a father, too. Often, Hyunjin wished he had been his real father. Maybe he would have been happy, then. 

That day, Christopher poured himself a drink from the small pitcher on his desk. A few drops of an amber liquid splashed on the letter he was drafting. After drinking it, he poured another. “Come here, boy.” And Christopher handed him the glass. 

The whiskey was bitter and he choked a little, but he drank the shot in two sips, which he thought wasn’t too amateurish. Somehow, it made him dizzy almost immediately.

“What your father did was wrong, but a lot of men do it,” Christopher had explained. “Your father’s problem was that he liked to pursue not just married women—but wives of important men. Often more important than him. And men don’t like to be disrespected like that.”

“Okay…” Hyunjin knew that already. “But what does that have to do with my question?” 

“A cuckold is… huh…” And it really didn’t seem like Christopher wanted to have that conversation, but he pushed through nonetheless. Maybe he did feel responsible for Hyunjin in some way. “... a husband of these cheating wives.” 

“Oh.” That explained the conversation that Hyunjin had heard as he evaded his history lessons by hiding in the high grasses by the windows of the dining room. Mr. Tanaka had asked Doctor Yun how many cuckolds he thought there were in the area, and if Hyunjin was legitimate. This word, legitimate, Hyunjin understood very well.

But unfortunately, he took after his father, and there was no doubt about that. They had the same dark brown eyes. Among other things. 

“You said a lot of men do that,” Hyunjin added under his breath. “Are you going to do that when you get married too, Chris?”

Christopher stared at Hyunjin from over the large wooden desk. “No, I don’t think so.”

“People say that my mother’s shame and pain is what made her sick. Because of what Father did.”

“People say a lot of things, Hyunjin.”

He has the same demons in his soul as his father did. “But what about me? What if I’m like him? What if I—” The words got stuck somewhere in Hyunjin’s throat as realization dawned on him. 

Chris cut him off. “You’re not like him. You’re not like that.”

But Hyunjin wasn’t even listening to him. He spun on his heels, leaving the study, running in the hallway to lock himself in his bedroom. It was located at the far end of the hallway and it was the best room in the entire manor. It had two large windows, a stone balcony, and the best view, especially at sunrise. 

Hyunjin immediately went for the drawer next to his bed, fumbling into it until he found what he was looking for. It had arrived three weeks ago in an envelope.

Dear Hyunjin,

I would wish you a happy birthday but I know it isn’t one. 

Mother said to keep this letter short because you are grieving, but I feel the opposite. I feel like I should fill your mind with words to soothe your pain. I feel like I should tell you about spring and how, already, I can see buds on the trees from my window. It might not erase your loss, but it’s all I could do. 

I wish we lived in the same home. I would hug you then. I know it would not be permitted but I would hug you, and you could cry if you wanted to. I know boys aren’t supposed to cry but I wouldn’t tell a soul, it would be our secret. 

I wish we were married already and I could help you, really help you. Not just write letters.

I wish you visited here. I’d take you to the beach. I don’t get to go very often but with you perhaps I would be allowed. I like to walk in the sea even if it gets the hem of my dresses damp and I get scolded for it. I like to feel the wet sand sink under my toes, and the waves hit my legs. It smells good too. I think you would like the sea, Hyunjin. When I learned what happened to your family, I asked my father if he could take you as his ward, but he said it would be wrong for us to grow up under the same roof. 

Have you ever seen the sea, Hyunjin? I promise I’ll take you when we are married, and we’ll run in the waves and not mind if our clothes get wet. 

If you don’t know what to do when you cry, you can think about me and the sea. Open the little vial I sent you and smell it. It smells like that when I open my window, or when I go in the yard to watch the beekeeper while he works. You can keep it in your pocket too, it’ll be as if you had a little part of me with you all the time.

Sometimes I feel like I miss you. But I can’t miss something I never had, can I? 

Take care of yourself, Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin had seen the sea before, briefly, but he liked your gift better. A simple glass vial containing real sea salt and a piece of dried coral. He didn’t want to leave it in his pocket like you had suggested and risk shattering it, but he often returned to his room to open the cork and inhale the air inside it. It soothed him. It smelled like the sea, but sweeter, almost like there was something floral to it. He liked it.

He read your letter again, keeping the vial under his nose, basking in your words and the scents of your home. He didn’t have friends. He had Christopher and he had you. Your letters. Christopher had said that next week, a boy his age would move on the estate with his father who was newly hired, and that Hyunjin would have somebody to play with then. But Hyunjin was too old to play. And he didn’t want friends. 

He wanted you. 

He has the same demons in his soul as his father did. Hyunjin was twelve years old and he often wondered what you looked like. Sometimes, he would stare at the women in the town when he would go for errands and wonder if you had hair like this, or lips like that, or if you wore gowns that hugged your body like that. There were embarrassing things happening to him if he thought too much about that stuff, and he had nobody to ask about that. He could ask Christopher, but Hyunjin figured it was best not to. He knew how to relieve himself until the problem had… deflated. End of story.

But today, as Hyunjin read your letter over and over, something else happened. For the first time since his father had died, he cried. He lay on his bed and hugged the pillow and cried a lot, like a child would. If he had demons in him, should he even marry you? After all, you made… things happen to him, things that weren’t right even if they felt right. Maybe he should beg his mother to put an end to the betrothal. If she was too tired and weak, he’d ask Christopher. You were still young and your father could easily find you a better husband. Someone who wasn’t cursed like him. Someone whose father had never done that… 

Hyunjin was twelve years old but that was old enough to understand that you would be better off without him. He knew the extent of his father’s mistakes, and he knew that taking his last name would only serve you one purpose: to burden you with the same curse he had. 

Hyunjin was twelve years old but that was old enough to understand that even though he wanted to marry you, his friend, someday, and become your husband, he shouldn’t let it happen. And he shouldn’t let it happen because he loved you. He loved you in the way his twelve year old heart could love, which was to say, in a pure and sacred way. 

Later that day, when Hyunjin’s tears had mostly dried, he put the glass vial in his pocket and went to visit his mother in her room, but she wasn’t breathing anymore. 

That was also the day the vial broke in his pocket, when he insisted he should help carry his dead mother to Doctor Yun’s office. He felt it as he leaned against the wall. Crack. And it was over. One of the glass shards punctured his skin enough to draw blood, but Hyunjin’s pain ran deeper than that, and he learned a lesson that day. 

Beautiful things should be admired from afar, even when they comforted him—especially when they comforted him. 

“Hold on to me. You’re okay, darling.” 

Hyunjin’s voice went through your body, taking residence somewhere within you. His breath tickled your ear as he spoke for you only, his arm firmly holding you around the waist. Your neck seemed to be frozen in place as you looked at the gigantic mansion before you. It had three stories in some places and too many windows to count, and a large fountain adorned its front yard, surrounded by a neatly paved path. 

You felt dizzy but you couldn’t tell if it was from the heat, from having sat for too long on the way here, from your corset, or from the pieces of your shattered heart stabbing you from the inside out. 

There was a long row of people waiting for your party to arrive. They all stood, observing you. Maids and stewards and other people, too. An older woman was staring directly at you as if she was about to order your execution. Lady Jeon, no doubt. 

Hyunjin didn’t loosen his grip on you as a young man approached you. He was tall and his dark, flowy hair brushed his shoulders. He wore elegant clothes in gray and dark blue, and his shoes shone under the summer sun. 

Changbin spoke first, bowing low. “Lord Jeon,” he said after standing upright again. “Thank you for welcoming us into your home. Please let me introduce—”

The man—Lord Jungkook—nonchalantly waved his hand with a playful roll of his eyes. He had large, doe-like eyes, the dark-brown of them thick and opaque. “God, formalities make me want to die,” he said with a chuckle. “Besides, we do not need introductions here, do we.” He did not say it as a question. He turned to Hyunjin. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

You heard Hyunjin gulp loudly. “A long time,” he echoed, quickly dipping his head. 

Jungkook turned to you then, tilting his head to the side to observe you. He was handsome—his traits were pleasant and youthful, the sort of beauty that people without problems had. His dark pink lips were curved into a smile. 

You hesitated and went to bow, but Hyunjin’s hold on you was still too tight to allow you a full bow.

And he did not let go. It didn’t even feel like a gesture of possessiveness. To you, in that moment, he felt more like a little child who was afraid to be left stranded, alone, with no anchor.

You could swear you could feel the warmth of him through the several layers of your gown. You could swear Hyunjin was begging to turn around and go home. 

“Lord Jeon,” you saluted nonetheless. “What an honor it is to meet you finally.”

“By all means. It was long overdue. Wasn’t it, Hwang?” The familiarity with which Hyunjin and Jungkook addressed each other threw you off a little, but you took a deep breath to calm down. After all, they had gone to school together. “Congratulations are in order! My best wishes for your marriage—I was very saddened I couldn’t make it to the wedding.” 

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” you commented, although you hadn’t seen much of your own wedding and remembered it even less. You dipped your head. “Thank you, my lord.” 

Behind Jungkook, the woman you had assumed was his mother was coming your way, a tall man by her side. 

“Is my mother coming?” Jungkook turned around to verify. “She’s about to tell me I have no manners for keeping my guests out in the sun on a hot day like this. Shall we proceed inside? Hyunjin, Mr. Seo—how about we clear the business we have to clear and then we’ll be free to enjoy the rest of our day? There are also a few particularly stunning hunting rifles in my collection I’d like you to see…” 

The hand on your waist remained there, even after Changbin had followed Jungkook. They stopped halfway while Changbin and Lady Jeon were having a chat. 

You turned to Hyunjin, scrutinizing his face. He was pale, and a few drops of sweat pearled around his temples. He looked into your eyes, his whole body as tense as an iron rod, his gaze unfocused. He was no less handsome than before, and yet, you felt so far away from him, from this beauty of his. Before this morning’s events, you would have felt empathy. You would have held his hand, squeezed it, you would have whispered comforting words to him. 

Hyunjin had worked so hard at keeping not you in a cage, but himself, that he had finally succeeded. It truly felt as though you were looking at a feral animal through the bars of its locked enclosure, and the keys were nowhere to be found. 

You pulled out a handkerchief from the small inner pocket Ha-ri had sewn into your gown and proceeded to wipe the sweat off Hyunjin’s face. He jumped a little when you touched him, but finally, his eyes focused on you. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, but no sound came out of him. You read the words on his lips.

“It’s hot today, you should have worn a lighter blazer.” But Hyunjin really did love dark shades of red, so he had picked this one. 

He cleared his throat, his bottom lip trembling softly, like the last petal on a wilting flower, waiting to be carried away in the wind. “No. No—I’m—I shouldn’t—I should—” Hyunjin sighed, looking behind you, perhaps to assess how long he still had before someone came your way, but you could still hear Changbin’s voice as he made conversation. Carefully, he reached for the hand holding the handkerchief, holding your wrist delicately. “Do you remember the letter you wrote me the year my parents died?” 

What a strange question in a strange moment. This was the most words Hyunjin had uttered since you had told him that you loved him, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Part of you wanted to turn away and pretend he wasn’t there, joining the other conversation instead. 

But another part of you, one that was coming alive every time Hyunjin laid eyes upon you, made you stay there, staring at him. He was shielding you from the sun, but it created a halo of light around him. “The letter…” You had written many letters over many years, and you didn’t recall exactly which came in what order. 

“You sent a vial with it. There was sea salt in it, other things too.” Yes, you remembered that. “You said I should keep it in my pocket.” 

You remembered this too. That had been prompted by your strange need to have a piece of Hyunjin on you at all times, which, at the time, you did not have. You would often make a point of walking through the sitting room where Hyunjin’s portrait was hung, even as you grew up. You found solace in that painting. The boy with the big smile, the flowers, the bumblebees. The promise of something beautiful somewhere down the line. 

“I do recall. I harvested and dried that sea salt myself,” you responded. Hyunjin’s question had prompted you to return to memories buried deep in your head. “I added a piece of the coral I kept on my desk. When I would sit there and see the place where the piece had been, it felt good to know it was with you.” 

Hyunjin took a deep breath but it sounded more like a sob. “I broke it. The vial. It broke in my pocket. I was… I was carrying something heavy, and it broke.” He pressed your hand on his lips, barely, just ghosting a kiss over your skin before letting go. “And I wish it hadn’t shattered. I wish I still had it.” 

He spoke like he was apologizing, only leaving you more confused. You hadn’t expected the small glass vial to last all these years, of course. “Hyunjin, are you alright?” 

But he wasn’t even listening to you. “I’m doing the same thing to you, am I not? I’m doing the same thing.” 

Maybe the heat was getting to him. Maybe he had hit his head before leaving—whatever it was, something was terribly wrong with him. There was hopelessness in his molasses eyes, something darker than you had ever seen on him. Not so much as if the shadows were invading him, but more as though he was sinking into them and they permeated him, and he could not fight them. He was warm, too warm, even through the handkerchief. 

You glanced behind you, making sure that nobody was paying too much attention to Hyunjin. It quickly became evident that Changbin was making a distraction, asking Lord Jungkook about a newly added guest house on the eastern side of his domain, complimenting him on the architecture, the color of the brick, the shape of the roof, asking way too many questions about it. 

“Hyunjin.” You took his face into your hands, delicately, gently. “Look at me.” He was looking at you, but he wasn’t seeing you. You brushed your thumb on his clammy skin until he focused his gaze on you. 

You wished you were bold enough to believe Hyunjin was distressed because of the scene in his lavatory earlier, but you knew better. Your mother had not raised a fool. You wished Hyunjin remembered the vial you made for him because it was a reminder of his own affection for you. You wished he would kiss you. But your mother had not raised a fool. 

Whatever was going on between Lord Jeon and Hyunjin was affecting him to the point of rendering him speechless and confused. His breathing was shallow, his jaw tense, his lips trembling. “Hyunjin,” you said again, your voice low, your voice full of the love you had for him, no matter how unrequited. “Inhale—deep. Like this. Hold the air in your lungs for a few seconds.” You took a deep breath to show him.

You had been that scared little thing once, the very first time your mother had dragged you to a ball at the age of eleven. Your corset was too tight and she had told you that if you failed this, the Hwangs would no longer want you in their family. She told you that they had friends attending the same event and that they would immediately write a letter to Hwang Estate and the betrothal would be canceled. If you fail this—and I mean even a single step of a dance missing, you’re dooming us all, girl. Now stop biting at your lips, you’ll draw blood.

You were eleven years old. 

It was not your mother who had saved you from the terror overcoming you. While she was discussing with a group of older ladies, one of them had noticed you. She had told your mother she was taking the little one with her as she did not want to be alone for the journey to the table where the food was. The lady had taken your hand in hers and dragged you not to the food, but outside, away from the orchestra playing, away from the stuffy air of the ball. 

She had barely said anything. She had simply reminded you how to breathe. She did say this, though—it will not be as awful as you think it will be. Just breathe, little one.

You pushed Hyunjin’s hair behind his ears to let the breeze caress as much of his face as it could. He was taking deep breaths, exhaling a little weakly, but at least he was breathing normally again. He looked beautiful, despite his frightened state, or maybe because of it. Vulnerability looked good on him, and your husband rarely wore it. “Hyunjin, it will not be as awful as you think it will be. Just breathe.”

Slowly, very slowly, you saw the light within him return. Flickering, but at least it was there. His shoulders relaxed and color returned to his cheeks. He held you and you held him, you his face, and him your waist. There were voices around but they did not matter. This was your fault, after all—you had accepted Lord Jungkook’s invitation without consulting Hyunjin. You did not know, you could not have known that this man had such an effect on your husband. 

He gave you a nod. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly. “I—I just—”

You pressed your hand closer to his face, squeezing it gently. “I know. Are you alright now?” 

He nodded, and you let go of each other. The handkerchief returned where it came from. You quickly fixed Hyunjin’s hair. He smoothed the fabric of your dress and you, his blazer. For a long time, Hyunjin had been the only Hwang left, but it was no longer the case—you would share his burdens for as long as you lived, as his wife, as his friend. Even if you had to forcefully yank them out of his grasp. Even if he loathed you for it. Even if he could never love you the way you loved him. 

Even if all you ever got from Hyunjin was a beehive and a few darlings, made possible by whatever amount of whiskey he needed to speak the word. 

Hyunjin walked away from you, his back a little too straight for it to look natural, but he joined Lord Jeon and Changbin as they were making their way toward the mansion. Lady Jeon remained behind, obviously waiting after you. Near the entrance door, the staff was dispersing, returning to their duties. 

“My lady,” you said when you made it to her, bowing deeply to the Lady of the Jeon family. “Thank you for hosting us in your home—it’s quite beautiful.” 

“I’m afraid I have nothing to do with the looks of this place,” Lady Jeon responded with a scoff that may or may not have been condescending, you weren’t sure. “It was my late husband’s father who had it built. But thank you, Lady Hwang. They warned me about you.”

You frowned, studying the woman. She had a perfect posture and was very beautiful—her son took after her a lot by the looks of it, except maybe her nose. It was rather pointy but no less elegant. She wore a stunning cream-colored gown with a simple but pretty floral pattern on it, and her hair was held in a loose braid. 

“They warned you? About me? I don’t think I understand.”

It was rather difficult to comprehend that anybody was talking about you in any sort of way—after all, you were no one, nobody. Your father had a good reputation and had just been lucky to marry you away to Lord Hwang’s son. You were no one, nobody, except the daughter of a lucky man. And the wife of another man who wished he hadn’t married you at all. 

You got lost in your thoughts for a few instants, warming up under the sun and even more under Lady Jeon’s sharp, inquisitive gaze. Maybe she was wondering the same thing as you were—why the hell had he married you at all? After all, it was Hyunjin’s father who had accepted the betrothal, not Hyunjin himself. It would not have been that out of place to put an end to it. To send an apologetic letter to your father with a generous check. Sorry I will not be marrying your daughter—I’d rather keep fucking pregnant women in brothels instead. Please accept my most sincere apologies as well as this large amount of money, which I’m sending to shut you up and prevent you from making a scene. 

No, don’t go there. You had to keep your heart in check. You had to make sure it did not love Hyunjin too much, yes, but you also had to make sure not to develop resentment. It scared you. Hatred, resentment, bitterness. It scared you because you were afraid that feeling too much of it on a daily basis would be just like drinking poison. It would kill you slowly and painfully. But what about love, then? What about this love you had for your husband, the love you could not speak out loud, for every time you did so, he closed himself off a little more? 

Lady Jeon cleared her throat and began to walk, so you followed her. She was making her way to the main entrance, walking slowly, her step assured and precise. “I was warned of your kindness and good manners, my lady,” she said. “Your reputation precedes you.” 

You tried to conceal the sigh of relief you let out, working quickly to regain your senses after the terrible morning you had and the strange conversation currently going on. “Oh.” You gulped thickly—you weren’t expecting that. “I—I don’t—”

Lady Jeon lifted her hand, inviting you politely to put an end to your miserable stammering. “Your mother raised you well, young lady. I’ve always wondered what it was like to have a daughter, as I gave birth to a son instead. Would you mind indulging me for an hour or so? I have to oversee the preparations for tonight’s dinner, but I could use the company.” 

You felt a slight sting in your chest. It seemed as if Lady Jeon was really interested in spending time with you, a thing you never really got from your mother. You smiled awkwardly, dipping your head. “Of course, my lady. It would be my pleasure.”

Lady Jeon let you into her home before herself. The entrance hall was wide and full of light. The walls were made of carved wood panels and the floors shone nicely. The house seemed busy and it smelled like delicious food was being cooked, too. You could hear conversations and clutter all around and, for some reason, it made you feel safe. 

As if Hyunjin’s silence after your confession had taken up residence within you, and you were already looking to fill it with something, anything. You knew it was all temporary, but you chose to let it soothe you for the time being. 

Lady Jeon told you about the architects and the men who built the house. They were French, and she had not liked them very much, although she was not yet married to Lord Jeon at the time, so she had kept her mouth shut. She admitted that after her husband’s passing, she had started some renovations around the house. “My Jungkook lets me take care of it, he has never cared much for lordly duties anyway. Let me show you the kitchen.”

The kitchen was large. Every single room you had seen so far was significantly bigger than back at Hwang Manor, but you couldn’t find it in you to appreciate it, not really. While you complimented Lady Jeon on it—especially on the things she had renovated—you were relieved that Hyunjin didn’t live in a mansion such as this one. There was so much space here, too much of it. It felt like looking inside of your heart, which was both starkly empty and yet so full that it was close to imploding.. 

The chef was an older gentleman but he had a kind smile, and he insisted that you and Lady Jeon tried every dish for tonight’s big dinner, to ask for your opinion. Once again, you gave a long list of compliments—and they were well earned, as every item was absolutely delicious. Although nothing tasted quite like home, you liked it. At that point though, Lady Jeon asked you to call her by her first name, Myeong, and while it felt a little strange to do so, you indulged her. 

She showed you the dining room—it was large enough for at least two dozen guests, perhaps more. There were a few preparations being done here, but only minor. “The feast will take place in the ballroom, my lady,” Myeong explained. “We are expecting many guests, you see, and there will be music and dancing. Do you like to dance?”

You thought about it, walking slowly by Myeong’s side, listening to your footsteps echoing into the dining hall. Did you like to dance? What a strange question—it had never been posed to you before, not like this. You had no choice but to learn how to dance, and soon enough it had resulted in blisters and sore feet and tears. Not only had it been demanded of you, but you had to be the best, you had to stand out. Your posture had to be perfect and you had to know all the dances there were to know. Because you were going to become Hyunjin’s wife. 

You thought about it, your gaze lingering on the large windows to your left, searching for a sign of your husband somewhere, or perhaps Changbin. But you only saw the staff at work, moving chairs and tables and crates of goods all around the domain and the mansion. You remembered very well dancing with Hyunjin at your wedding, and how nervous he was. Almost as nervous as he had been this morning when you arrived here. You wondered how difficult it was to be him. 

“I don’t quite know, my lady,” you finally admitted. “All I know is I had to take three dance lessons per week for fifteen years. My mother used to say that I should be able to dance with my eyes closed, as easily as a breeze flies over the coast. That my posture and footwork should be proper and elegant, and never out of line.” 

“There will be no such thing as proper and elegant tonight, my lady,” Myeong told you with a smile on her lips. I should tell you—my Jungkook enjoys having his fun quite a lot. I hope you’ll be free to do the same. We are no longer in your mother’s home, my dear.” With that, Myeong squeezed your hand gently before being brought away by a maid in distress—apparently, there was a problem with the lady’s gown for tonight. “I’ll send you our steward,” she assured, not seeming to be fazed one bit by the wardrobe malfunction. “He’ll take you to your quarters and you can rest before tonight.” 

You watched her walk away, your insides being tugged down by a strong but ice cold force. Proper and elegant was all you had always known—what sort of evening should you expect? 

Was there maybe a good reason why Hyunjin didn’t want to come here in the first place? 

You leaned by the nearest window, which was cracked open, but there was no breeze. Fortunately, the sun was away from this side of the mansion, allowing it to remain cool. 

You had never allowed yourself to think about it, as in, to really think about it. But what sort of thoughts occupied Hyunjin’s mind? Did he wish you gone the same way you longed for him—uncontrollably, desperately? Would you really spend the rest of your life chasing after someone who was working very hard to keep his distance from you?

What would people say in one year, when they noticed Hyunjin did not warm up to you at all, that you two did not seem to share a bed very often? 

What would people say in two years, when the maids would notice the blood stains on the linen of your bed month after month? 

What would people say in five, ten years, after they watched loneliness take over you like an army conquers the land of its enemies?

“My lady?” 

The voice made you jump despite being soft and gentle. You were lost too deep within your thoughts, and it took you a few seconds to gather your wits and turn to the person who had spoken. The owner of the voice was a young man, with a pleasant face and short, brown hair. His eyes were intelligent, but he seemed a little tired. 

“Good day, Lady Hwang, and thank you for visiting us. It’s quite an honor to have your husband and you on Jeon Domain,” the young man said, bowing low, way too low to your taste. “My name is Su-jin, I am the steward of the home. Her ladyship asked me to escort you to your quarters.” 

If you had struggled to return to reality before, it hit you in the face right then. Su-jin. Of course, you should have known. Dr. Lee’s friend. Minho’s lover, you thought somewhere deeper in your heart. You tried not to let anything show, but you suspected you were failing miserably by the strange look the steward had for you. 

You cleared your throat. “Of course, sir.” You followed him as he took the stairs. “It’s very nice meeting you, Su-jin.” You hesitated, wishing to entertain some sort of conversation.

You thought of the envelope you had for him in your bag, which should be in a room waiting for you by now. Hyunjin had insisted you wouldn’t spend the night at the Jeons’ and would go sleep in a hotel in town, but they of course had granted you access to a few rooms anyway, so that you could get ready for the evening, and to rest up beforehand. 

“Have you been working here for a long time, Su-jin?” you questioned, figuring it might lead to a potential segue into the whole Minho topic. You followed him upstairs, your gaze lingering on the lush wallpaper and its intricate patterns, on the quality of the wood under your feet. This mansion was remarkable. 

“A few years, Lady Hwang,” Su-jin replied politely with a smile for you. The smile wasn’t genuine, it was rehearsed, practiced, perfected. Much like yours. “I’ve seen many come and go, but I seem to stay around.” He said it in a tone suggesting more he was in prison rather than employed by a wealthy family. “Your room is this way, my lady.” 

The room turned out to be a fully equipped bedroom—it had its own lavatory as well as a small study with a desk and a few chairs. The room itself was beautifully furnished but you hadn’t expected anything else from the Jeons, who, after all, had the reputation to make the best furniture in the country. You touched the wood of the bed frame, feeling the carvings of it under your fingertips. They represented flowers and leaves, and it gave the room an opulent look. There was no need for artwork to be hung on the walls, nothing extravagant—the bed, the table and the chairs sufficed to fill the room with class and elegance. 

“I hope this will do,” Su-jin went on after showing you the lavatory and offering to send maids to help you with a bath. You had bathed this morning, but it felt as if you needed to wash off something else. Maybe the words Hyunjin hadn’t told you, or the terrible, cold loneliness seeping from your insides through your skin. “We have another room—”

“No, this one is perfect, sir.” You crossed the rest of the room to make it to the window, admiring the view—from here, you could see the front yard and the stables, where a few workers were already taking care of your horses and carriage, as well as three brown horses and another carriage that was very familiar. “Are many guests already arrived?” 

“A few, my lady.” Su-jin had followed you to the window, looking over your shoulder to observe the same scene as you were seeing. “The Bangs just got here. The Kims arrived last night—the Viscount and Lord Jeon have a good business relationship. I hear Baron Han will be attending without his wife—rumor has it that she is with child.” 

You nodded, remembering Han Jisung and his wife as well as Kim Seungmin from your wedding. It felt strange knowing that Lord Jungkook had invited about the same set of guests for his dinner as those who had attended your wedding. You could understand now that if he had been invited at all, it had been half-heartedly, as a formality, and had been expected to say no.

You could also understand that by essentially recreating the same evening, Jungkook had bypassed Hyunjin’s wishes not to see him on his wedding day, in one of the most efficient passive-aggressive moves you had ever seen. You had to give it to them—both Hyunjin and Jungkook were exceptionally skilled at cultivating this unfound rivalry. 

You thought about Han Jisung, the Baron who had been one of those to confirm the consummation of your marriage with Hyunjin. He had seemed intelligent and sensitive. “I’m most happy for the Hans,” you said. “I shall make sure to congratulate him myself later.” But first, you would seek Lord Christopher and Lady Bang. Especially Lady Bang—you could use some female camaraderie right about now. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?” Su-jin asked, making his way back toward the door. “Lady Jeon will be having some tea in about an hour, you and the other ladies are welcome to join her.”

“Actually, yes, there is something else.” You circled the bed, reaching for your bag which had been left there. You opened it and carefully rummaged through it to find what you were looking for. When your fingers came in contact with paper, you managed to extract the envelope from in between two gowns, where you hid it earlier this morning. “Dr. Lee Minho has asked me to give this to you—privately.” 

Upon hearing Minho’s name, Su-jin went pale, but then his cheeks grew so red that you could almost feel the warmth emanating from them. He froze in place, staring back and forth at you and the envelope in your hands. You could only feel empathy for the man—whatever had happened between him and the handsome doctor, he hadn’t expected this letter. 

And you knew the power of them. Of letters. Words and sentences scribbled on paper. They were responsible for the love that you had in your heart. And it was in that instant that you understood why it hurt so much that Hyunjin did not love you. Because you had really thought he did, in some way. He had planted the seeds of it in each of his letters written to you all those years. Maybe you didn’t think he was in love with you—you wouldn’t be so foolish as to believe that, of course not. But you did think he had love for you, in one way or another, and maybe enough to pretend that his feelings amounted to more. But that would have been asking too much. That would have been selfish of you to demand this of him. 

You gulped, choosing to give Su-jin a few seconds to process the moment by retreating back to the window. Your eyes scanned the scenery and you finally found something to anchor yourself on—a large patch of foxglove, the flowers so purple and vibrant it almost made you forget how unloved you were. But it was the bees zooming around them that soothed you the most. You closed your eyes, just for three seconds, taking a deep, deep breath, remembering the buzzing of honeybees, the feeling of them flying around you. Their honey coating your fingers, your lips. Hyunjin’s lips. The lips you only tasted once but couldn’t forget, would never forget. 

Behind you, Su-jin moved. He leaned with his back against the wall, looking like he had regained at least some of his senses. You spun around and went to hand him the envelope. “Did you know that Dr. Lee is now working at Hwang Estate?” 

He nodded slowly, taking the envelope with a trembling hand. “Yes. I just—” There were tears in his eyes, but they remained there instead of rolling down his face. He was brave. “I didn’t think—”

You put a comforting hand on the man’s forearm, squeezing it gently. You knew the pain of a broken heart. You knew the power a letter could have on someone. You knew how heavy tears could be if they just lingered. “I assure you that Minho was very private about it,” you explained. “He said… He said he hadn’t been able to give you a proper goodbye, and I think it weighed heavy on his heart. I see that it also weighs on yours, Su-jin. I hope that whatever is in that letter alleviates some of that burden.” But do not let it give you hope, you almost warned. You had made that mistake, after all. Whatever you do, do not let anything give you hope. 

“T—thank you, my lady,” the steward stuttered, slipping the envelope in the inner pocket of his blazer. He bowed, not too low, but you understood that he was grateful. Then he stood before you for a few seconds, staring at you with you staring back, as if you sensed the conversation was not over. “My lady,” he added after a few seconds, “how is he? Minho? Is he… alright?”

You took a deep breath. “I believe he is as well as he can manage, yes. He works hard—when he isn’t on the estate, he treats patients in not one, but two clinics in town.” You bit your lip, curious yet saddened by the situation. “When he told me about you, his voice was loaded with melancholy.”

Su-jin accepted your response with a lot of grace. He, too, breathed deeply, and swallowed his tears. “Thank you, my lady. I—uh—I know this is asking a lot of you, too much, but if I were to compose a response to the letter…”

You cut him off, seeing no need to let the brokenhearted steward finish his sentence. “I will gladly bring your response back to Dr. Lee, sir. You can trust me. My husband intends on spending the night at one of the city’s hotels, so make sure your letter is drafted and in a sealed envelope before the end of the evening, yeah?” 

He nodded. “Yes, my lady. Thank you, my lady.” His voice was still strained, but at least a few drops of life had returned to his eyes. He left the room promptly, and you could only guess he would hurry to find some quiet place where he could read the letter. You had been like that once—waiting all year for that envelope to make it to you. Waiting a whole year just so you could drink Hyunjin’s words and fall in love with him a little more. 

Writing to him also had the same effect. You remembered being sixteen years old and sitting in your room, drafting letters over and over until they were perfect. With each new version of the same letter, you tried to really show Hyunjin who you really were. You tried to let him see through your heart, so that you would never be a stranger to him. You remembered being eight years old, writing a letter to your future husband, not even knowing what it entailed, thinking you were just promised a best friend for the rest of your life. 

You remembered being twenty years old and knowing what marriage really meant, but writing a letter to Hyunjin with all of your heart anyway, because you were looking forward to it. To marry him. While your mother had been so preoccupied with you becoming the perfect woman to be Lady Hwang, you just wanted to be enough to be a good wife to Hyunjin. 

You returned to the window while you gathered your thoughts. From here, you could see the front yard and the sparse grove surrounding the domain. Below that was the road leading to the city, which you could also see from here, or a part of it at least. Hyunjin often visited that city for business. You wondered if his favorite brothel was nearby.

You wondered if he was hoping to visit it during this trip. 

No, he wouldn’t. He said he wouldn’t, a voice at the back of your head insisted. But there was another voice too, one whispering worse things directly into your mind. Reminding you of Hyunjin’s ardor as he fucked himself onto your hand, his hot breath on your skin, his cum spurting on your palm. How you had expected it to be warmer than was, like hot syrup poured over pancakes. You often thought of it, the sticky, lukewarm liquid and its bitter, salty taste. You often found yourself craving it, searching for it in other things, trying to find it elsewhere. The closest you had gotten to it was just a few nights ago, when a side dish of mushrooms had been served with the roast beef. 

They had been wild mushrooms, cooked in butter and truffle oil, with rosemary and sumac powder. They were perfectly cooked, melting on your tongue as you ate them. And if you closed your eyes just for a moment, you could almost let them remind you of Hyunjin’s taste. 

And this was one thing. You could only hope that someday soon Hyunjin would get drunk enough that he would use your hand or any other part of your body to relieve his needs. You would love it if he came in your mouth next time, emptying himself there, flooding your throat with his musky, earthy taste.

The very same taste pregnant whores had the chance of enjoying countless times. 

You scanned the scenery, the grove, the road, the city beyond it. You thought of Hyunjin, his knees on a soft mattress with a woman under him, her round belly bare and exposed and beautiful. Hyunjin fucking her slowly, deeply, relishing the feeling of her soaked cunt around his cock. Hyunjin, free to fuck her to his contentment. Free, free, free. Sometimes, you saw her with pretty brown hair, other times, she had hair the color of honey, and Hyunjin licked her pussy like he would lick honeyed milk spilling on the edge of a cup. Savoring, tasting, cherishing the flavor, and telling her all about it. Taste so good, so sweet. Your fertilized cunt. 

You thought about this often—too often. And each time, it made you nauseous, it troubled you, it made you wet. And you were ashamed of it. Ashamed of all the times you made yourself cum to the mental image of Hyunjin’s facial expression while he fucked some whore’s pussy, as he pulsed inside her, gifting her the precious liquid you so badly craved, painting her walls white, filling her to the brim. Safely, without fear, without regret or shame. 

There were nights you hoped that Hyunjin would get so drunk that he would actually want to fuck you like that. Bend you over a table, spread your pussy open and claim you for good. Would it hurt? You didn’t care—and you hoped he wouldn’t care either. You hoped he would slam into you, forcing his cock into your uncorrupted cunt, hard and hot and unyielding. You hoped he would get so drunk that he would flip you over to also fuck you face to face, just so that he could see your tits bounce with each thrust, just so that he could see your eyes as he tore into you. You didn’t care if it hurt.

You wanted it to hurt. You wanted to feel every tiny bit of your hymen break as Hyunjin’s pretty cock forced itself deeper into you. You wanted him to hold you so tight that he left marks on your skin, his fingertips, his hips, his mouth. Bite marks, bruises. You hoped he would be so drunk that he would get lost in you, forget himself, forget everything that wasn’t your pussy, and you hoped that he would trap you under him and hold you by your waist as he buried himself as deep as he could to cum there. You hoped you could feel it stick to your walls, you hoped you could feel every second of Hyunjin breeding you, calling you his slut, his darling, kissing you hard. 

But, no—in the unlikely chance Hyunjin would be able to keep his cock hard after ingesting enough whiskey that he would actually want to fuck you…

You wouldn’t even let him. You wouldn’t let him spread your legs open and guide himself there, wouldn’t let him spray his cum inside you, where you wanted it most. Because you feared that he would do something terrible the next morning. Maybe he would throw himself off the cliff at the far end of the estate, maybe he would do something worse if he got his hands on the chef’s knives. Because you loved him, you wouldn’t let Hyunjin fuck you. 

Instead, you would let longing burn and consume and kill you little by little, choosing to spare him.

You turned away, deciding that staring at the window was not helping you, but you didn’t think anything could really help you. Maybe you should go find Lady Jeon again, or even better, Lady Bang—maybe that staying alone was worse. Maybe that being around others would prevent your mind from whispering terrible things to you and asking your conscious self some terrible questions. Did he like to lie with them in bed after, covered in sweat and in the smell of sex, his cum dripping slowly from her pussy, and did he hold her in his arms then? Did he like to feel her belly under his palms, did he like to rub it and kiss her in the neck, his softening cock trapped between her ass and his body? Did he call them darling, too? 

No. No. No. You couldn’t let those thoughts take over. You couldn’t let them. Not now, not tonight. Tonight was too important—until the moment you would leave the Jeon’s mansion, you had to be the perfect wife. You had to execute every lesson your mother had carved into your brain—you had to remain the stoic yet kind Lady Hwang. And that Lady Hwang would not let herself be tortured by thoughts of her husband emptying his balls in a prostitute’s cunt. 

You did join the other ladies for tea, but it did very little to appease you, as the main topic of conversation was the Baroness and the rumors surrounding her pregnancy. Rumors that Lady Jeon made sure to confirm—apparently, she had been visiting a clinic because she was quite ill in the past few weeks, and her symptoms could be explained by the fact that she was with child.

You said very little. You spoke only when addressed first and directly—while you were in no mood to chat, you could appreciate Lady Jeon’s efforts to make you feel included. Thankfully though, Lady Bang was sitting by your side.

She looked absolutely lovely, as always. Her hair fell into pretty waves on her shoulders and she wore a lavender-colored dress that suited her to perfection, hugging her body in all the right places. She embraced you as soon as she saw you, keeping you in her arms longer than she needed. It’s been too long since I saw you, Lady Hwang. You said you’d visit! You did say that. You did say you would visit Lord Christopher and his wife, but that had been before you had the foolish idea of giving Hyunjin an easel and some paint. Now, there was very little you even wanted to do outside of watching him paint and mix and blend colors. Maybe because it comforted you to hear the paint brush glide across the canvas, imagining it was his hands on your body. His tongue, even. Kissing you, devouring you—

No. Not tonight. 

You didn’t know how aware Lady Bang was of Hyunjin’s brothel preferences, but she must have known something because as soon as she could, she redirected the conversation to a whole other topic. And whenever the Baroness was mentioned again, Lady Bang would talk about something else. She asked each and every woman in the room specific details about the gown she was wearing and then encouraged you to talk about Ha-ri and her unique skills. You found it easy to talk about Ha-ri and the dresses she made. You told them that she could take any piece of fabric and make a ballgown out of it. You told them that she often worked until the early hours of the morning if she was determined to finish a sewing project. 

“She must have made your gown for tonight too, my lady?” Lady Bang asked. “And Lord Hyunjin’s jacket, too? Oh, how I wish I had a seamstress in my home…” 

You swallowed the last sip of your tea. By now, it was tepid and bitter, but at least it kept you busy, and the cup was pretty, with hand-painted orange blossoms on it. “You know you’re always welcome to place an order to Ha-ri—I would not want to keep her all for myself,” you pointed out, forcing yourself to smile. “She indeed put a lot of work on the gown I will be wearing later tonight, and I believe you will also appreciate my husband’s attire.” 

The Viscount’s wife, Lady Kim, seemed impressed. “I heard a lot about Mrs. Ha-ri and her talents. Does she really make all of your dresses? With so much detail?” 

The question seemed strange coming from a Viscountess. Surely, she couldn’t be surprised by that, right? You had been a little taken aback when you first arrived at Hwang Estate, sure, but you also knew of the Estate’s reputation. Only the best meals were served, the best workers were employed… You had been impressed with the quality of the ink and paper with which Hyunjin redacted your letters, year after year, and the gifts he attached, too. Only the finest silks, prettiest lace and rarest books. Gloves and scarves imported from Siberia to keep you warm in the winter. Perfumes brought back from France, a necklace from Switzerland… Hyunjin was wealthy. You hadn’t really thought too much about it before today. 

You nodded, offering a pleasant and modest smile. “Yes, Mrs. Seo is the most talented seamstress I have ever encountered. She is a lovely lady as well, and a wonderful mother to her daughters. We value her and Mr. Seo very much.”

“Then we must meet again,” Lady Jeon insisted, “and you must bring Mrs. Ha-ri with you next time!” 

You gave your promises, although you weren’t sure Hyunjin would ever want to come back here. Unless, of course, he visited the city and you tagged along, drinking tea and sampling fabrics with the girls while he was balls deep into a heavily pregnant whore. Or some variation of that. 

It was around that time that Lady Jeon got up. “It was lovely spending this afternoon with you ladies, but I believe we ought to go get ready for the evening. I will see you later.” Then, she turned to you while the other ladies walked away. From the corner of your eye, you could see the lavender on Lady Bang, lingering near the door, waiting for you. “There is so much sorrow in your eyes, child,” Lady Jeon added, just to you. “I hope you will allow tonight to soothe some of that ache, my dear.” And with that, she retreated to her room.

You walked with Lady Bang in the hallway. Already, each room seemed to be busy with people changing in them. You also heard running water, and many conversations. Even laughter and people singing songs. People were happy to be here. Many more guests would arrive in the next hour or so, you reckoned, and they would be grateful.

So why was your heart so heavy? Why couldn’t you indeed let tonight be one sunny spell during a rainy day, much like what Lady Jeon had urged you to do?

Because you knew too many eyes would be observing you, studying you, ready to find faults anywhere and everywhere. Your hair, the food you ate, the food you didn’t eat. The way Hyunjin didn’t look at you. The way he drank too much whiskey. The way you held yourself, your smile, and every little motion of yours would be scrutinized and analyzed. All of this going, on for hours, with, by your side, your husband who did not love you and who was wishing he was in a brothel instead. 

You would never be enough for him. You could keep watching him paint, you could keep asking his chef to prepare his absolute favorite foods. You could keep your composure around him, and do your research so that you could hold a conversation about his work. You could wear your best gowns and you could keep loving Hyunjin with every fiber of your being but it would never be enough.

“My lady,” Lady Bang said after a while. Her voice was soft, gentle. “Y—you’re crying.” 

You stopped in your tracks, immediately reaching for your face and finding the skin damp with tears you hadn’t even realized were there in the first place. You wiped them but they seemed to never run out, as more immediately rolled down your cheeks.

“Oh…” Lady Bang quickly pulled a handkerchief and used it to carefully dry your face, her other hand holding yours. “Let it out, whatever it is. Let’s go talk about it in my room, if you’d like.”

“No.” You shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it—if you did, you wouldn’t just be crying a few tears here and there. You had yet to sob and scream over Hyunjin’s silence in the morning, and speaking even one word about it would break the dam open. “I’m fine, just tired.” You couldn’t risk anything else, and you didn’t like the idea of lying to your friend, so you went with a half-truth. “I think tonight must be making me a little nervous.”

Lady Bang nodded slowly, studying you. You weren’t quite sure she believed you entirely, but there was no denying that she understood at least some of the weight on your shoulders regarding tonight. You could see empathy in her eyes. And something else, too—something worse. Pity. “There is peace to be found in chaos, my lady,” she said softly. “I know that Lord Jungkook’s dinner parties have a reputation, but while everyone is getting drunk, and dancing, remember that fewer eyes will be turned to you. The more wine people drink, the more freedom for you.” 

You hadn’t thought about that. After all, the last time you had been amongst a crowd was during your wedding… And while Lord Jeon had invited a significant portion of your guests to his party, Lady Bang was right—this wasn’t your night. 

“If you feel the need,” the kind lady went on, “just give me a little signal. A wave, something. I’ll pretend I feel faint, and ask you to walk me back to my room, or to come with me outside for fresh air. No one will suspect a thing!” 

You felt a surge of relief, followed by gratefulness. Lost in your own head, worried about tonight and what may or may not happen—still haunted by this morning, too—you had forgotten that you were not alone, that you had friends and allies. Hell, even Changbin would not hesitate to come to your aid should you need it. 

You said goodbye to Lady Bang when you reached her door and went to the room you shared with Hyunjin, almost expecting to find him there. After all, he had disappeared all day, and you had heard Lord Christopher’s voice as he had welcomed his wife into their temporary bedroom. Ah, my love, there you are. Did you ladies have a good afternoon? 

Hyunjin was not in the bedroom but a maid was standing by the window, looking through it, visibly passing the time. “Oh!” You hadn’t expected her and yet you should—Lady Jeon would absolutely not let you get dressed on your own in her home, or so you guessed. “Hello, there.” The girl was a little younger than you, although you couldn’t see all of her face as she was still facing the window. She had long, wavy hair, and was wearing a maid’s gown that was a little too big for her, making her seem even younger than she probably was. You noticed that she did not have an apron on.

When the girl failed to respond to you, you came closer, concerned that she was feeling unwell. “Miss?” You said again, but she did not budge an inch. 

You put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she jumped in surprise, but quickly gathered herself, bowing deeply. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you, please forgive me,” you apologized, dipping your head. “Did Lady Jeon send you?” 

The girl turned to you, staring at you with large, contrite eyes. She opened her mouth but said nothing, and you realized she wasn’t trying to speak—she was trying to let you know that she couldn’t. She was motioning dismissively with her hands, shaking her head to indicate a negative, sometimes also motioning toward her ears. You understood very well what she was trying to communicate to you. I cannot hear you.

“Oh.” You bit your lip, overcome with empathy. One of your cousins had lost her hearing after catching a bad virus that almost killed her. You nodded, showing that you understood the situation, but hoping the girl could still read your lips. “Forgive me, I won’t talk too much,” you added, realizing how ironic that sentence was. She was young and very pretty—what a shame that this young girl would never again hear the music of a violin, water flowing from a stream, or the sound of someone’s laughter. 

But the girl did not seem to wish to linger on the topic. She motioned toward you, your dress, and your evening gown, which was now hanging from a metal pole in a corner of the room. She also showed you the lavatory, and you explained to her as best you could that you had bathed this morning but would go to refresh quickly and come back. “Just wait for me here, will you? I won’t be long.” 

When the girl started to bow again—which you had every intention of not letting her do anyway—you noticed something else. Under her gown. It may have been loose, but when she moved, it hugged her body in very specific areas.

She was pregnant. And pregnant enough that it showed.

A million thoughts crossed your mind. Had she been sent to your room on purpose? Was someone in this mansion aware of Hyunjin’s preferences and had sent her as a courtesy to him more than to you? If it was the case, would he fuck her? She was pretty, with long eyelashes and a kind face. Where would he fuck her, here, in this bed? How would he fuck her? Would he want her to suck his cock so that he could watch her face turn red and messy? Would he want to suck on her swollen, sensitive tits in return? Would he fuck her more than once, so many times that her cunt overflowed with his cum? 

Or, even worse—had he fucked her already?

You disappeared into the lavatory, dizzy, your hands shaking. It had to stop. If you kept thinking about such things, you would certainly become mad, and they would tell doctors about you. They would send you to some mental asylum and do god-knows-what to you. 

You could not cry. You could not scream. You could also not kick this girl out of your room and yell at her and give her a clear order not to return and to stay out of your way. 

Others would have done so. You had seen your mother do exactly this, countless times actually, when she thought that the serving girls or maids at a house that was hosting you for a dinner or a visit were a little too pretty. She seemed to believe her husband would be unfaithful, and only wanted men or ugly women to serve your family. It was the same in your family home, too. The only exception to that rule had been Sookie, who had taught you a lot and had been allowed to stay with you for a good while even though she had been beautiful. 

You washed your face and brushed your hair, trying to make it so that the water and soap also washed the foul thoughts off. It didn’t seem to work. It felt like they permeated through your skin. You undressed, also giving your body a quick rinse and applying your favorite smelling oils—jasmine and honeysuckle. You ignored your reflection in the mirror, figuring that the maid would probably be able to do something with it, but missing Ahnjong’s natural talent for braids. 

You wrapped your naked body in thin linen and returned to the bedroom, but something had changed. Hyunjin was there.

He stood tall near the closed door, seemingly frozen in place, his gaze fixated on the window where the maid was still waiting for you, watching something happening below, paying absolutely no mind to what was happening in the room. She was rubbing her swollen belly gently, swaying imperceptibly on her feet, as though she was rocking the baby she was carrying. The scene was excessively beautiful and moving, and gave you a craving for motherhood that you had never felt before exactly, maybe because you hadn’t seen that side of it. Quiet, peaceful, two souls merged as one for nine months. A hand over a belly, reassuring, gentle, a caress that you could only imagine the unborn child was feeling, somehow. If such a thing was even possible. Didn’t pregnant women feel their babies kick from within, after all? So why wouldn’t babies feel a soft caress? Or maybe it was the love emanating from the mother’s hand that they felt? 

Hyunjin noticed you a few seconds too late—you had seen his eyes. You had seen him. Him, your tall, handsome husband. Your important, rich husband, with half of his hair held by a ribbon, the rest of it framing his face with dark, unruly, yet elegant locks. His sculpted face, more beautiful than a summer day, more devastating than the coldest winter winds. His lips like rose petals, the light of his soul pouring through his molasses eyes as painfully as a dying man would suffer if he were bleeding to death. You wanted to cross the room, walk to him, and strike him, aligning your palm with his perfect cheekbone and hurt him. You wanted to walk to him and take his face into your hands as delicately as you would if he were made of the most precious porcelain and leave kisses on his skin, his eyes, his nose, his mouth. 

You did neither of those things, because Hyunjin’s eyes jumped from the girl by the window to you. Your face first, and then the rest of you—your naked body, hurriedly wrapped in cloth. You saw panic written all over his eyes, and then you saw the same panic melt into something else. Fear, longing, something darker, too. You glanced at the maid, beautiful and pregnant and holding life inside of her. You felt your own void of a belly, too. Hyunjin took a careful step toward you, then another, averting his gaze. 

When he came close enough, you noticed that he smelled like outside air. You opened your mouth to speak, but words eluded you. You did not know what you wanted to say to him. For some foolish reason, you wanted to tell him, again, that you loved him. As though the first time had just been the dam shattering into pieces, and now this river of love flowed through you, and you could not stop it. You wanted him to hold you and you wanted to tell him that you loved him. I love you, I love you, I love you. Did he know that you would want to keep telling him those three words, over and over, no matter how heavy the silence that followed would be?

Much like you, Hyunjin did not speak, not with words. But he reached for you and touched your face. He was warm and his touch felt like fire on your skin, setting you ablaze, coursing through your body like wildfire burns through a field, decimating you on the spot. There was a frown between his brows, barely there. He was concerned. He was deeply focused. Hyunjin touched your cheek, trailing his thumb on your face, ghosting your lips with it. Could he feel your breathing on his hand? How hollow, how rapid it was? Could he feel your heartbeat, too? 

His lips moved barely, so little that you thought you had made it up. “Are you alright?” he asked under his breath, his voice just a whisper. He couldn’t know that the girl wasn’t hearing him. He almost added something else, but shut his lips tight at the last second, his eyes lingering on your exposed shoulders. 

You nodded, or at least you thought you did. “Yes,” you managed, your heart tugging between the urge to cry and the urge to make everything normal again. The window caught your eye—or rather, the maid did. She had noticed you and was now moving toward the gown to get it ready for you. Hyunjin glanced behind his shoulder, quickly turning to you again, his cheeks pink. You wondered if it was out of lust or out of shame. Or maybe out of both. “How was your afternoon with Lord Jeon?” A normal thing for a wife to ask her husband, you reckoned. 

He gulped. “He gave us a thorough tour of the property. We ate outside—” he started, hesitating, and let out a little sigh before he went on. “We did not leave the premises, except when Jungkook brought us through a trail in the woods behind, to show us a river that flows there. It was quite beautiful. I wish you had been there. When we get home, I’ll paint it for you, so that you can see.” 

Your heart detached itself from you, floating inside of your chest, beating dangerously fast. For a few seconds, you allowed your mind to return there, home, to the smell of Hyunjin’s bed and the soft noises of his paintbrush gliding across a canvas. Did he know? That you would spend all of eternity watching him paint even though he did not love you? 

“I should let you get ready,” Hyunjin went on, flustered all of a sudden. He looked behind him—not at the girl, but at the door. “Changbin will be waiting for me. Let me just gather my things…” 

As Hyunjin retreated toward the bags containing your belongings, he came face to face with the maid. You could only watch as the event took place, motionless, silenced by the soft words Hyunjin had just told you, your heart still a mess within you. 

The maid bowed deeply, which you knew was something Hyunjin despised gravely—and yet, he did not touch her, he simply looked away for a couple of seconds, toward the window. The sky was changing rapidly, turning from pale blue to gray, and a few droplets of water were sticking to the glass already. You hoped the rain wouldn’t be too bad so that you could leave this place right after tonight’s festivities. It was getting dark already, but a rainy night would be even darker.

“Sorry miss, I’ll get out of your hair—” Hyunjin started, dipping his head respectfully. “Just need my…”

You took a few steps toward him, clinging onto the linen around your body. “Hyunjin, she can’t hear you,” you pointed out softly. You motioned to the maid that Hyunjin was on his way to your luggage, and she gave you an eager nod, stepping away, busy preparing your corset anyway. 

Hyunjin quickly opened his suitcase, grabbing everything he needed in record time, as though he wanted to be anywhere but here. “I’ll just use another room—” he said before disappearing through the door again. You caught a quick glimpse of Changbin, faithfully waiting in the hallway. 

When the room was quiet again, you heard your heartbeat in your ears, relentless, loud. The maid approached you, saying something silently, but you managed to read on her lips the words she could not properly speak to you. It was something you had learned to do so that you could keep up with your cousin. Your husband is very handsome. And then she gently touched your belly, the same way she had touched hers earlier. Your baby will be beautiful. 

The tears that invaded your eyes hurt worse than a bee’s sting. You took a deep breath to swallow them but it felt nothing short of eating pieces of shattered glass. You did not want to talk about the baby you would never have, so you talked about hers instead. “I’m certain that your little angel will be pretty,” you made yourself say, repeating words you had heard women tell your sisters when they became pregnant. “Does your husband live here with you?” 

The girl looked away for an instant. As a response, she simply showed you her left hand, where there was not a ring to be seen. Through silent words and motions, you understood that her husband had died of an illness and that she had been hired here—probably by Lady Jeon—and that they were helping her. 

You stood in the room in front of this woman, staring at her, looking into her eyes. It felt as if you were full of the same grayish color the sky had turned to. How sad. How terribly, terribly unfair, too. To lose the one we love. You thought about it, thought about Hyunjin, about his health and what would happen should he pass away, too. 

The gouging wound he would leave behind. And how you would suffer the same way one would bleed to death, turning cold and lifeless at an excruciatingly slow pace. 

You could live being unloved by him, but you couldn’t live without him. This, you knew with certainty. 

You let the maid take the linen off you, but it took a few instants before you were able to help her as you got into your undergarments. You thought about Hyunjin as she laced your corset, too, feeling it dig into your skin, turning your breathing into something shallow. The gown was elaborate—Ha-ri had outdone herself. It took quite some time to get you into the burgundy dress, but you found it strangely comforting to feel it on your skin. The silk shone under the gray light of the window. It was adorned with ribbons and lace and even embroidered flowers. 

It turned out that the maid knew how to do elaborate braids. The style was quite different to Ahnjong’s but you liked it, and you appreciated that she even laced a ribbon matching your dress into your hair, adding even more detail to your appearance. When she was satisfied with the final product, the maid offered you a smile. Beautiful, she mouthed, and she even dragged you in front of the looking glass so that you could see for yourself. 

You saw an empty shell of a woman, wearing a gown too beautiful for her, of a color she had picked because her husband liked it. You realized at that moment how foolish that had been. As if Hyunjin would fall in love with you because there was some deep red fabric on your skin. That was a little girl’s logic, something really stupid. For an instant, you considered changing out of your dress, but the other one that you had brought was a simple daytime gown, and it would mean showing up wildly underdressed to the event. And you didn’t need anyone to think this of you. 

The maid jumped behind you, and then you heard what might have been a laugh escape from her lips. She was holding her belly again, smiling wide, her eyes bright. She took your wrist and placed your hand flat on top of the swell, and you felt it. The baby. A kick but it felt like a wave under your palm, so alive, so beautiful. It almost felt like pressing your hand on the walls of a beehive.

You cried then. You had expected loud cries, something ugly, but your tears rolled down your cheeks silently. The baby became calm again, and you let your hand fall to your side, limp and lifeless. You cried all of the tears you had not allowed yourself to cry—so much so that the maid became worried and pulled you toward the bed to force you to sit. 

You cried and you cried and you cried. You cried for the life that would never grow in your belly. You cried for the love you would keep giving Hyunjin and the love he would never have for you. You cried for all the times your mother screamed at you. You cried for all the kisses you craved from your husband, you cried at the beauty of the colors he painted. You cried because your gown was pretty and you should be pretty in it too, but you weren’t, because you were a cold, dark pit in which no good thing would ever build its home. 

You cried so much that the maid left the room. You thought she had just left at first. Until she returned, and she wasn’t alone.

Changbin sighed, but not in annoyance. You looked away, ashamed, exhausted, tired. The corset was tight around you. 

“My lady…” Changbin sat next to you on the bed. “What’s the matter?” Outside, the rain had intensified. “Has something happened? Or is it… Or is it what happened this morning? With Hyunjin?”

You took a deep breath, then another, accepting a soft cloth handed out by Changbin. You used it to wipe your face, but panic grew within you. Changbin knew about this morning? How could he? Had Hyunjin told him about this morning?

“How do you know about that?” you asked. Your voice was low, hoarse, and shaky. You cleared your throat. You could hear the guests in the mansion, somewhere below. You could even hear music in the distance. The mansion felt alive, like a beehive, like the belly of a pregnant woman, and unlike you. 

“I don’t know what it is, my lady. But I know something must have happened—Hyunjin’s spirits were exceptionally low all day, and so are yours, it seems.” He hesitated. “Should I fetch Lady Bang? Perhaps—”

“No.” The maid approached you again, concern written all over her face, handing out a glass of water to you. You took it and drank eagerly, letting it soothe your throat, sore from crying. The pain was still there, but it felt as though the tears you had spilled had removed at least some of the weight on your heart. “I must be very late already…” 

“Don’t worry too much, my lady.” Changbin was smiling, although you could tell he was still worried for you. “Lord Jungkook is giving a speech before the evening officially starts. He loves the attention. Did you know that he gives names to each of his hunting rifles? That’s crazy!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, and Changbin seemed satisfied with himself. “Let’s go then, I wouldn’t want to miss too much of that speech.” You stood, but the maid didn’t let you leave before she applied cold compresses over your eyes, to help with the redness and swelling. You thanked her and, fearing you might not see her again, you hugged her tightly. You also went into your luggage and found a couple of silky scarves for her, and while she wanted to refuse the gift at first, you insisted. “Keep them,” you said, making sure to enunciate clearly so that she could read your lips. “Sell them if you want. Thank you for everything.”

Soon enough, you were following Changbin into the hallway. This part of the mansion was empty, except for the occasional maid or worker you crossed on the way. The more you walked, the more clearly you heard the sounds coming from the ballroom. “We’ll take the other entrance,” Changbin explained, “it’s closer to our table and less noticeable.” 

An attendant was by the door. From here, you could hear Jungkook’s speech. He was a good speaker, charismatic, funny. He was talking about his esteemed guests and how grateful he was to be able to host so many people. The attendant bowed before opening the door for you, and you went in.

You had seen the ballroom earlier but it looked totally different at night and especially crowded with people. The sight was overwhelming. The chandelier, the tapestries on the walls, candles burning on round tables covered with white silk and gold cutlery. The room already smelled like wine and like withheld excitation, like dozens of expensive perfumes mingling together to create a strong, inevitable smell. 

Most guests sat, although a few stood around the room, all gaping at Jungkook who was standing on a platform to give his speech. He looked good tonight in an all-black outfit and his dark hair brushing on his shoulders. He had a smile on his face and it suited him. 

Changbin guided you through the guests. You made yourself small, but used your best bashful smile at guests who were staring a little too much. You noticed your table, just a few feet away. Lady Bang, Lord Christopher, the Viscount, too, was sitting with you. Everybody was turned toward Lord Jungkook, listening intently.

All except Hyunjin. He was staring at you. 

He was wearing a black and burgundy frock coat and a black vest with a pleasing white button-up. You actually recognized it as the linen shirt he wore on the very first evening you met him. The light was dim, but you also noticed the white ribbon holding half of his ink-colored hair. The light was dim, but you could only see how beautiful Hyunjin was. His ethereal traits, his full lips parted open, his profound gaze. His smooth tongue running on his lips. The way he stared at you was so close to the way he looked when he was sketching his paintings that your heart jumped in your chest. 

Changbin pulled your chair for you, but Hyunjin helped you take your seat, making sure that you were comfortable with the large skirt of your dress. You blushed when his hand came in contact with your knee, even through the several layers of fabric. There was a glass of red wine poured for you already, and you eagerly drank two, three, four sips, almost emptying it in one go. 

“Ah, but enough rambling…” Lord Jungkook blurted out, his intonation changing in the span of just a few words. “I’m certain that you all are eager to start eating, dancing and drinking, aren’t you?” This declaration was welcomed with a warm round of applause and cheers, as well as many glasses raised in the air. To your right, Hyunjin kept his glass in his hand. “Before we begin our beautiful reception, I’d like to officially congratulate our newlyweds—you all know who I’m talking about, don’t you? Let’s not kid ourselves here, we never imagined our little Hyunjin would grow up to be such a strong, independent man. And yet, here he is.” 

It was as though every single person turned to your direction in unison. You could swear it blinded you, much like looking directly at the sun—thankfully, you were too nervous to make out the facial expressions of the people staring at you.

Under the table, Hyunjin’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently. You weren’t sure if he was doing it to comfort you or himself, but you liked it. You liked the feeling of his hand around yours, warm and soft, shielding you from nothing, from everything. 

Our little Hyunjin. You wondered how he felt about Lord Jeon’s familiarity, especially in front of this large crowd. If it displeased Hyunjin, he didn’t let it show too much, keeping his face expressionless. But you knew this was because he was terrified. 

“So I’d like to raise my glass to you and your beautiful wife,” Jungkook went on. “May your marriage be a merry one, and may you live a long, happy life. Thank you for visiting my home—it’s a true honor to have you here tonight, both of you.” He even punctuated his sentence with a bow, to which Hyunjin responded by raising his glass at him. You saw fit to do the same, and drank to it, too. The other guests did the same, and you were relieved to notice that most of them were smiling.

And the night began. 

The food being served was absolutely delicious, starting with a complex-tasting chicken and fresh herbs broth. The herbs made the dish light and zesty, while the broth itself had been reduced to perfection. It was rich and thick, and it helped comfort you. Or maybe that was the second glass of wine… 

In any case, Hyunjin seemed more at ease too. He spoke with Changbin but with the other people around the table, too, even sparing a few words for you and making sure that your glass stayed full. 

You skipped the other appetizer, fearing that eating too much would make you queasy. Instead, you listened to a conversation between Changbin and Lord Christopher that was frankly very entertaining—both of them were very funny yet strong-headed, and you always enjoyed their debates. 

“Are you not hungry?” Hyunjin’s voice startled you, although he spoke very gently. The ambiance was loud, with every guest engaged in a conversation and the quintet playing upbeat music. The room was alive, lit up by the chandelier and many other flames all around the walls—the scene was quite beautiful. You hadn’t attended an event like this in a while, except for your wedding. And you did not really attend your wedding festivities… You spent that evening in Hyunjin’s room, not doing anything that you were supposed to be doing. “Are you sick?” He was speaking directly into your ear, making sure that you could hear him. He was so close to you that you were certain his lips had brushed on your ear, unless it was his breath. In any case, you felt the contact through your entire body.

You took a large sip of wine—it was rich and sweet. It had been made from unique grapes that had grown somewhere warm, sunny, and dry. You could tell from the taste alone. “I’m good,” you told Hyunjin, turning to him and speaking into his ear as well. “If I eat too much, I won’t be able to dance later, and I’d love to dance.” You had never been allowed to dance just for fun, and you were hoping tonight would be your first time. 

When you pulled away, you noticed the hesitation in his large eyes, but the corner of his lips raised slightly. He almost smiled. “I would ask you to dance with me, but I might not be a very entertaining dance partner. Perhaps you’d be better off with Mr. Seo…”

You chuckled, putting your hand on his forearm. “I do recall our first dance. I believe you were nervous, weren’t you? You just need to relax. You know the steps, and you move well and elegantly.” You remembered the way Hyunjin held you as you danced. “But I know you don’t like to dance very much—so perhaps I’ll follow your advice.” 

Hyunjin’s almost-smile had disappeared into his glass of wine. You watched as he licked a few drops off his pretty lips. He cleared his throat, staring away from you for a few instants. You followed his gaze—he was just looking a few tables down, where Lord Jungkook was apparently playing a game with Kim Taehyung while the other people around the table were placing bets. It seemed quite fun, and even Lady Jeon was laughing. 

When you let your gaze trail back to your immediate surroundings, you met Hyunjin’s eyes. He frowned, just for a second. “You look very beautiful,” he said, and you could swear you took flight. Before you could really process what he had just told you, Hyunjin took a spoonful from his plate and offered it to you, bringing it near your lips. “Do you want to have a taste, at least? It’s delicious.” 

You did not leave his eyes. You could not leave his eyes. His deep, sad eyes. In this light, they looked like spilled ink on paper, dark, bottomless. But not dark as in an absence of light, dark as though the light was hiding somewhere behind a veil that he kept up on purpose. 

You opened your mouth, accepting the spoonful of roasted vegetables, tasting all of their flavors at once. They were crispy and salty with a sweet and familiar aftertaste.

“When Jungkook made us visit the kitchen, I suggested to the chef that he uses honey to sweeten the carrots and parsnips just like you taught me,” Hyunjin explained, almost like he had read your mind, and maybe he had. “It’s not as good as your honey, but… pretty good, right?” He smiled then, a true smile, more beautiful than the first day of spring. “You make the best honey.” 

You swallowed the vegetables but a lump remained in your throat. You tried to wash it down with wine but to no avail—it seemed as though Hyunjin’s words moved you just as much as his silence did, just maybe in a different way. Or maybe not so different. “Oh, Hyunjin…” 

He shook his head. “No arguing. I never cared for honey before I tasted yours. You really know what you’re doing.” He was getting drunk, which you could tell by the glaze over his eyes and the color of his cheeks. But you would have been able to tell from the ease with which he spoke to you, and the kind words he used, too. 

Hyunjin did not love you, but he came closest to it when he was drunk.

One could say you were getting used to it. It wouldn’t have been a lie, but it wouldn’t have been exactly true either. Every time this happened, you let him talk sweetly to you and hoped he would wake up the next morning and still want to hold your hand, or smile at you, or call you darling. 

One could say you were getting used to it in the same way a man locked in a prison would get used to the tiny window in his cell. You learn to live with it.

A million things went through your mind. You wanted to smile coyly and kiss Hyunjin and taste the honey in his mouth, even though it wasn’t as good as the one you produced, you knew it would be sweeter because it came from his lips. You wanted to hold his hand but not under the table, and lay your head on his shoulder. You wanted him to keep feeding you. You wanted him to love you for real. 

Instead, you nodded. “I just prefer rich-tasting honey,” you explained. “Some people don’t, because they find the flavor overwhelming.” You noticed that a few heads had turned to you, listening to the conversation. Lord Christopher and the Viscount seemed particularly impressed, so you spoke to them next. “Hyunjin bought an apiary for me,” you added for them. “I’ve been able to reprise my production—I’m hoping that next summer, I’ll manage to send samples to our friends!”

“That honey is so good though,” Lord Christopher pointed out, and by the disgusted look on his face, you knew the compliment came from the heart—you had come to understand that when he made that specific face, it was out of sheer and unadulterated enjoyment. “I for one think you should sell it, my lady. You could demand a high price for such quality.”

“That’s true!” Lady Bang added, excitedly clinking her spoon on her plate a few times. 

You felt warmth invade the skin of your face and could only avert your eyes to stare at your hands on your thighs. You had never received so many significant compliments in so little time. In your whole life. You were used to the rehearsed ones—compliments about your hair, or your good posture, or the one you probably got the most: compliments about your betrothal. Ah, you truly lucked out on that one, young lady—he is rich! But this? This was new.

Another hand appeared in your line of sight. For the second time that night, Hyunjin put his on top of yours, prompting you to lift your head again, finding his face. You could definitely see a glint of pride in his eyes. “Don’t be shy,” he invited warmly. “They’re right. In fact, I was already thinking I ought to purchase one or two more apiaries next summer. If you want, of course.” 

You covered your mouth, suddenly very shy. You glanced at the rest of the table, and saw, in passing, a very soft emotion in Lady Bang’s eyes. “I’d love that,” you admitted. “But I still don’t see how I’m going to sell the honey… I’d rather just share it, you know? I’ve always just enjoyed making the honey and spending time with the bees… and then seeing the smile on people’s faces when I gift them a jar. It’s a special moment.” 

After exchanging a few words with his wife, Viscount Kim Seungmin raised his glass at you, dipping his head. “I commend you, my lady. You have a very kind heart.” He turned to Hyunjin, and although his expression shifted slightly, it was barely noticeable. “You are a very lucky man, Lord Hwang. Better not lose sight of that. That being said, I would very much like a sample of that honey, and I’m willing to pay the price!” 

“I’ll make sure to send a few jars as soon as I can,” you promised. “Thank you, V—”

But your sentence came to a halt, much like your heart in your chest. In fact, it wouldn’t have felt any different if time itself had stopped flowing. Yet, everything was the same—you were still sitting at the table, with Hyunjin and Changbin on either side of you. The chandelier still filled the room with its soft amber light, and conversations and music alike adorned the stuffy air of the room exactly in the same way it did two seconds ago.

But you had caught sight of something. Or rather, someone, and it turned your blood ice cold. 

A man had just arrived and taken a seat two tables down from yours. Mr. Taehyung had stood to welcome him at his table, even giving him a brief hug. You knew that man very well, although you had seen him just a few times. You’d recognize him anywhere. Doctor Yun himself had just made an appearance.

When your heart started again, it was too fast, too strong, threatening to spill out of your lips. Thankfully, Baron Han had just come close to your table, removing any attention from you as everyone was congratulating him on his wife’s pregnancy as he passed, and Viscount Seungmin also did the same, starting a conversation with him.

Hyunjin, however, was not participating in the conversation. He was motionless, just like you, staring two tables down from behind Viscount Kim at the man now shaking hands with the other men around him. 

“What the fuck is this piece of shit doing here?” Hyunjin groaned between his teeth, reminding you almost of that one time you had come face to face with a rabid dog. 

He made a move to stand up, and for what may have been eternity, you considered letting him, for you knew he stood intending to punch Yun right in the face. Whenever the doctor’s name was mentioned—either for paperwork to sign, or any reason, Hyunjin tensed up, profoundly angry. If you let him, he would cross that room and crush his skull with his bare hand, and you would probably enjoy the sight of it. 

But you couldn’t. The second passed, and you became Lady Hwang again. Proper, polite, your whole life rehearsed before it had the chance to happen.

You wrapped your hand around Hyunjin’s wrist, pulling him back to a seating position. He fell in his chair a little awkwardly, his face flushed with rage or disgust or both. Next to you, Changbin had seen everything and was getting ready to act as well, but he didn’t need to. Hyunjin took a deep breath before turning to you.

“I didn’t know he would be here, darling,” he said. “I wouldn’t have allowed it. I don’t know why he’s here—let me go talk to Jungkook, I’ll—”

Darling. Darling. Darling. The word echoed not only in your head, but in your whole body, leaving amber-colored stains all over your soul, Hyunjin’s light finally touching yours again. Darling. Darling. Darling. Yun could have been cutting you open in front of the whole crowd that you wouldn’t have felt it—all that mattered in that instant was the likeness of love that had just spilled from Hyunjin’s lips, its occurrence made easy with how wet his mouth was, from the good food, from the wine. 

Darling. He may not love you, but he was fond of you in some way, like a friend. And if you were true friends, you would still want what was best for him—which you really, really did.

“No, Hyunjin,” you urged him, keeping his wrist in your hand. “Don’t make a scene, it’ll look even more suspicious.” 

He groaned almost inaudibly. But the staff was already getting to the tables for the next course, and Hyunjin found himself stuck on his chair, although you could tell he was fuming. He must not have liked Yun very much to begin with, you figured, for him to react so strongly to him. Sure, the old man was disgusting and creepy—but as the doctor on Hwang Estate, it had been his job to question the status of your marriage’s consummation. And he had been right to doubt it, too… 

As you were remembering your wedding night, your gaze caught the doctor’s. From several feet away, he gave you an appraising look, his expression neutral, showing no emotion at all, and then he returned to the conversation he was having with Taehyung. 

Dinner went well. The main course was absolutely divine—roasted quail with mushrooms and sweet potatoes. The demi-glace was to die for, which you made sure to point it out to Lady Jeon when she happened to walk past your table. She thanked you warmly, promising to let the chef know of your appreciation. Hyunjin, however, said nothing.

In fact, he did not speak a single word after Yun’s appearance. 

Lord Christopher told countless stories, and Changbin even tried to make Hyunjin participate in conversations by pretending he didn’t remember certain details in the anecdotes, but nothing worked. By the time dessert was served, Hyunjin’s eyes were unfocused and his lips were red and raw from all the wine he was drinking. You looked at them a lot. His lips. You wondered how they would feel under yours just now, raw, hungry. 

You wondered how many more glasses of wine it would take Hyunjin to forget his promise and climb back upstairs so that he could sink his pretty cock in that pregnant maid’s cunt. You wondered how many more glasses of wine it would take for you to follow him, wait until he’s finished with her, and eat his cum directly from her pussy. 

You welcomed the sudden change of ambiance in the ballroom when more staff came to push all the tables on one side, leaving a large space for people who wished to dance. You took that opportunity to take a short stroll in the hallway around to stretch your legs a little. And, maybe, also, to get away from Hyunjin just for a minute. There were times when the rage inside him took up so much space that it showed behind his eyes, and it did not suit him. You walked for a while with Lord Christopher and his wife who must have sensed that something was wrong because they told you more stories to distract you. Christopher told you about last week when he decided to go fishing early in the morning, but he was so sleepy that he fell into the lake. You laughed at the story, holding onto your glass, which had been filled not with wine this time, but brandy. You emptied it and left it with one of the maids.

You couldn’t help but shoot glances all around you, startled every time someone walked past you, always expecting it to be Doctor Yun. In the end, it was Lady Jeon herself who joined you, claiming that she needed to get out of the crowd for a while. The Bangs excused themselves—you knew Lady Bang was most excited about dancing—and you walked with Myeong instead, just following the hallway that circled the elegant ballroom, hearing the music playing louder than it had during dinner, and more energetically, too. It made you want to dance, too. 

“You seem rather pensive, my lady,” Myeong pointed out, speaking at just the right volume to be heard by you and you only. “Is the thing troubling you what I think it is?” 

The thing troubling you? As if there wasn’t an endless list of those?

But Lady Jeon didn’t even let you respond, sighing and shaking her head. “Mr. Kim insisted that Doctor Yun was present tonight. I had no say in this, and I believe my son indulged his request…” She stopped walking, pulling you closer to her, speaking close to your ear. “I don’t like him either. This doctor. After Doctor Lee had to leave, he came to offer his services… and I adamantly refused.” 

“That is a wise decision, my lady.”

You wondered what you should say next. You were drunk enough that you might want to start talking about why Doctor Yun had been so suspicious of you on your wedding night. You were sad enough that you might just tell Lady Jeon everything, which was reckless and stupid, and Lady Hwang shouldn’t be either of those things. 

Instead, you chose to focus on the second half of her speech. “However, I like Doctor Lee quite a lot,” you added in a tone that tried to be as natural as possible. “In fact, I question the reason why he left his post here at all. He’s excessively competent, kind, and hard-working, isn’t he?” 

A dark cloud passed over Myeong’s eyes. She bit her lip and took a deep breath. “It was not my decision. It was not Jungkook’s decision either. Mr. Lee left of his own volition, but… He was forced to do so by unfortunate circumstances.”

“Unfortunate circumstances?” You made a face that suggested concern, as though you might have anything to fear from Doctor Minho. In fact, you trusted him fully, but you couldn’t resist wanting to get to the bottom of the mystery. “Do these circumstances have anything to do with Mr. Su-jin, by any chance?”

Lady Jeon’s eyes opened a little wider. She seemed pleasantly surprised. “I should have known you had an instinct.” She guided you toward the end of the hallway, where there was a lavish bench by a window. It was completely dark outside, but you could hear the rain splattering on the glass. “It was a matter of the heart, what happened between the boys.”

You nodded. “This is what I gathered from my conversation with Dr. Lee about it…” You sighed, thinking about the vast sadness in Minho’s eyes as he talked about Su-jin. You wondered if people could see the same in your eyes when you stood beside Hyunjin. “He did say he had to leave so that Su-jin could be happy. So that he could be free.”

Myeong swallowed thickly, regret written all over her face. She was a wise lady, elegant, poised, and the way she started fidgeting with the fabric of her lavish dress didn’t suit her. “My lady, perhaps I should tell you—after all, you should know as much as you can about the people working for you,” she said, but it just sounded like she was trying to convince herself, not you. “Mr. Su-jin and Dr. Lee were lovers, as you might have guessed already.”

You gave her an inviting nod. “I thought so. Did they fall out of love?” 

Lady Jeon didn’t speak for a few moments, thinking her response over. Instead, she stared at the door to the ballroom at the end of the hallway, almost as though she was waiting for someone. “No. A third party got in between them—someone else developed a strong attraction for Mr. Su-jin, you see, but Su-jin only loved Minho. This third party thought it would get involved in this and played god to pull the two lovers away from one another.”

You came very close to saying something true. Or rather, that ought to have been true. Words you knew you should speak, but that you also knew would have a bitter taste. That sort of behavior is dishonest and ugly, you almost said. If you truly love somebody, shouldn’t you want them to be happy at any cost? Even without you?

At the exact same time, you were plagued once again with visions of Hyunjin entangled on a bed with a beautiful woman, savoring her body in such a way that he smiled against her lips as he released his seed inside her, overcome with pleasure, lost in her. 

And so you did not say it. It would have been too difficult anyway, as envy and jealousy were burning your throat. 

“That is deplorable,” you uttered instead. 

“Indeed. The third party began spreading rumors about Dr. Lee, saying that he was doing… unholy things with his patients at the clinic. I tried to disparage the rumors, but people usually prefer a good story over facts, and I wasn’t heard. When the rumors began to affect Mr. Su-jin, Minho figured the best thing to do was to get away. Coincidentally, we heard about your… unfortunate encounter with Doctor Yun, and I suggested he offer his services over there, which he did. You know the rest.” She paused, finally letting go of the little ribbon on her dress which she had nervously wrapped around her finger. “People say all sorts of things about your husband, my dear. Not so kind things. And yet they seem to ignore the most obvious of his traits—his compassion. Although he takes after his father in many ways and reminds me of him, he has the same heart as his mother.” 

You shifted your weight on the bench, suddenly uncomfortable. You cleared your throat, almost regretting drinking all this wine already, or maybe wishing you had drank more. “You knew them? The Hwangs?” 

A stiff nod with a lip of the bite, although it was almost imperceptible. “It was a long time ago. I—” Lady Jeon’s words got lost somewhere between her throat and her lips, dissolving on her tongue but not like sugar. Like salt, perhaps. “I’m grateful Dr. Lee is with you now.” 

It was quite obvious that Lady Jeon did not wish to speak about the past, and your mother had taught you to respect this sort of thing. You had so many questions—you wanted to ask, plainly, why the rivalry between Hyunjin’s and Jungkook’s fathers existed in the first place. You couldn’t ask—it would be out of place. Still, you couldn’t help but think that this missing piece of the puzzle was integral in your understanding of your husband. 

You took Lady Jeon’s hand in yours to squeeze it gently. “Dr. Lee is working hard. He goes fishing sometimes and sees many clients in the town’s clinic. He has befriended my cat, Cloud. I’ll make sure that his days are as peaceful as they can be.” You let go of her hand, a frown appearing on your brow. “I just… I can’t believe someone would spread such vile rumors about a man like this. Even for love.”

“It was not love, it was lust, child, and that is worse.” Lady Jeon rose from the bench and you did the same, smoothing the fabric of your gown. “Only someone with a cold, dark heart would do such a thing.” 

“But who? Who could even—” Your sentence stopped halfway when you noticed that Lady Jeon was, once again, staring intently at the ballroom entrance. You followed her gaze and immediately saw what she was looking at—Mr. Kim Taehyung was in a lively conversation with a man and a woman that you did not know. Your arms fell on either side of your body. “Oh.” 

It was then that you remembered something you had overlooked. In conversations, when Lord Jungkook was mentioned, Hyunjin was nervous, agitated. Afraid. But when it was Taehyung, he was… Angry. And repulsed. And maybe that, too, was an important piece of the puzzle that Hyunjin was made of. He knew these men, after all. You didn’t, not one bit. You didn’t need Lady Jeon to tell you explicitly who it was who had put himself in between Minho and Su-jin. You understood now. 

“Why didn’t Su-jin come with Dr. Lee, then?” you questioned, looking away from the door and at Lady Jeon again. “If they love each other so much, shouldn’t they want to be together?” 

“I’m quite certain that they did what they thought was best.” Myeong hesitated, exhaling sharply before going on. “There was an opening for a doctor at Hwang estate, but the position of steward had just been filled, and Su-jin comes from a big family, for which he has to provide—his father passed away when he was young, you see, and his mother became ill in the recent years. He has three younger siblings.” 

You never didn’t have money. Well, not you, but your parents. And yet you understood the position Su-jin found himself in. The burden on his shoulders. The burden of being enough, and all the terrible, horrendous decisions one had to make to keep trying to be enough.

You cleared your throat. “My lady, do you believe that his mother is healthy enough to move out of their current home?” 

The ghost of a smile haunted Myeong’s beautiful face for half a second. “I believe so, my lady. On a good day, with a lot of rest.” The ghost became corporeal, and the corners of her lips curved into a pleased smile. “Are you saying you mean to pilfer the head steward away from my home, dear?” 

“I’m saying I can offer work and a salary to Mr. Su-jin, something more than enough to compensate for the needs of his family. I also believe we will find work for his young siblings when the time comes and can have them sit in classes with other children on the estate.” You smiled at her, suddenly relieved from an ache you hadn’t realized was there in the first place. As though the perspective of reuniting two loving souls together filled a void within you, the one that was Hyunjin-shaped. 

While Seonghwa was an excellent addition to Hwang Estate, he had big shoes to fill—Changbin had been living on the estate for many, many years, and he had known everything there was to know about the whole property and Hyunjin’s business. There were times you worried for Seonghwa, afraid that he would overwork himself, or feel like he wasn’t doing an adequate job. Maybe, just maybe, if Su-jin came to help… But could it be possible? In this life? A situation that benefited everybody involved, with no losers? 

“Then, by all means, let me make the proposition to Su-jin myself,” Myeong insisted. She was still smiling, although faintly, but it suited her. “I know him—if you go to him with the proposition, he won’t take it well. He never accepted handouts from us. He his a proud man.”

“I know what you mean.” You stared at Lady Jeon. “Are you sure you won’t mind, my lady? If Su-jin leaves?”

“Oh, I’ll mind for sure. He’s a great man—it won’t be easy to find a substitute as good as him.” Myeong chuckled softly. “However, I believe I can find another head steward. I do not think Su-jin can find himself another soulmate, though. That’s not how it works.”

Lady Jeon offered you a short but heartfelt embrace, and you found yourself wishing your mother had a heart like hers. Perhaps you would have turned out differently. Perhaps you would have been the kind of woman Hyunjin could fall in love with.

“Ah, my lady… I believe someone is waiting for you,” Lady Jeon pointed out, pulling away from you. You followed her gaze once more, noticing that Hyunjin was standing awkwardly by the entrance and shooting glances your way in a manner that he must have thought inconspicuous. Except it was rather evident. Did he want to leave already?

“I should go then,” you said. Lord Jungkook was not far from Hyunjin, and you imagined that maybe your husband needed some help to support him, no matter what the reason was behind his fear of the man. 

“He is quite a man, your lord husband,” Jeong mentioned. “So tall, so handsome…” The smile had disappeared, but you saw nostalgia on her face. “He has his father’s eyes.” 

“Yes, or so I’ve heard.” You gave Myeong a dip of the head and she squeezed your hand in return, pushing you gently toward the hallway and the ballroom. 

Hyunjin welcomed you into the stuffy ballroom with yet another glass of brandy, which you eagerly took from him. “You and Lady Jeon seem to get along quite well,” Hyunjin noticed, a slight frown between his brows. 

“We were discussing certain delicate matters.” Here, the music was louder. Mixed with the brandy and the relief from possibly helping both Minho and Su-jin, your heart felt a little lighter. You pushed yourself on your toes to speak into Hyunjin’s ear—he helped you by leaning in, stabilizing himself with a hand on your waist. The contact felt violent, shaking you to your core. It reminded you of jerking awake in the middle of the night with the ghost of a dream evaporating from your mind. In fact, Hyunjin touching you there made you wet, but you tried to speak like a poised woman nonetheless. “I suppose I should tell you now,” you managed. “I’ve made plans to have Mr. Su-jin come work for us.”

Hyunjin twisted his neck to make eye contact with you. He was so close that you could smell the liquor on his breath—whiskey. The one thing that made him less disgusted by you. You felt his warm breath on your skin and it spread throughout the rest of your body, settling between your legs. “The Jeons’ head steward?” The smell of him, his cologne, his boozy breath, the sweat sticking to his skin was enough to make you dizzy.

You gulped. “Did you know? About Lee Minho and him?” When Hyunjin bit his plush lip and gave you a nod, you shrugged gently. “That is what Lady Jeon and I were discussing. I thought you would not mind—Seonghwa is quite wonderful, but an extra brain can’t hurt, not with all the work you are doing at the factory.” There were words stuck in your chest, prisoners of your heart, but you could not speak them out loud. Instead, they sent envoys to represent them. “It would not have been fair to let them be apart, not like this, not for that reason. True love has the right to simply happen. Or else, I’m afraid that the hearts of these two men would collapse onto themselves.” Exactly like what would happen to you someday. Tomorrow, in a week. In one year. In twenty. Someday. 

Hyunjin gaped at you, his eyes flicking between yours and your mouth. You were staring at his, at his pillowy lips, wishing they were red not from liquor but from kissing you hard, wishing they glistened not with alcohol but with juices from your cunt. 

The hand on your waist dug itself deeper, sinking into the layers of your pretty dress. He parted his lips open and you waited for him to say something. Something in regard to the color of his heart. Something about what he wanted. You could kiss him right now—he wouldn’t see it coming, and you’d feel his lips underneath yours again. How desperate would it be if you asked him to do it? If you asked him to please kiss you? 

“I had offered Dr. Lee to bring Su-jin under my employment with him,” Hyunjin said, but with the way he was looking at you, and with the way the hand on your waist pulled you closer to him, he might as well have been asking you to spread your legs open for him. And hell, you wanted to. Every second you spent in his proximity elicited a stronger tingle between your legs, like the buzzing of a dozen beehives. “He said that there was no way he would ever accept such an offer. He has a big family to take care of.”

“Lady Jeon said the same, but she seemed to believe she could convince him. Let’s hope it all works out.”

Hyunjin nodded, pulling away from you, the scent of him fading away a little. He let go of your waist and took a large sip from his glass, looking all around the room. You did the same, scanning all the faces to see if you could recognize Doctor Yun in there, but you did not. 

“Do you want to dance? With me?” 

It was so sudden that for an instant, you didn’t think it was Hyunjin who had spoken. But when you turned to him and came face to face with his big, inquisitive, almost pleading eyes, your heart melted in your chest. You stammered, blushing heavily, and choosing to drink a little more brandy for courage too. 

“Y—yes,” you managed, and it made Hyunjin smile. The smile itself was a little sad, not bright, almost sorry, but it was there. “Yes, of course.” 

Hyunjin carefully took the glass from your hand, setting both yours and his on a nearby table. And then, he even more carefully took your hand in his, and guided you toward the other side of the room, where people were dancing. Currently, about twenty people were performing a quadrille dance. You could barely hear the music over the sound of your heartbeat, but you at least pretended to watch, and you even clapped with the others when the dance ended. 

The couples saluted each other and most of them walked away. Hyunjin held your hand tighter. He was warm, and you thought he might have been shaking. The cello player announced the next dance, and Hyunjin did not hesitate before tugging at you and bringing you onto the dance floor.

“It’s a five-step Mazurka,” you muttered between your teeth, making sure not to be heard. “Do you know this dance?” You looked around, seeing that Lord Jungkook was also on the dance floor with a pretty lady in a raspberry-colored dress. The Bangs were right behind you and Lord Christopher flashed you a dimpled smile. 

“I know the dance, and I know you do too. Didn’t you tell me your mother had you rehearse all the dances?” Neither you nor Hyunjin moved, already in place, while the other couples were gathering into a perfect circle.

“Y—yes, but—” 

“Well, she is not here to scold you tonight,” Hyunjin said softly, leaning close. “I would like to see you smile a true smile. Can you dance with your heart instead of with your head? Can you do that for me, darling?” 

Darling. The word echoed through your body and through the entire room, or so it felt just like that to you. You let it carry you. You allowed it to fill you with delight. You wanted to say something, but already, the first music notes were playing and there was no more time to talk. Hyunjin and you bowed to each other in unison with the other couples, and the dance began.

And you were soaring. You hopped and leaped and twirled, not minding one bit your posture, not bothering with concealing your smile. Hyunjin held you firmly, guiding you through the dance, executing every step perfectly. His shoulders were relaxed and his hair flowed with him as he moved with you on the dance floor. You felt so alive in that moment. In your husband’s arms, dancing your heart out with him, your feet landing on the wooden blanks below you, your heart beating fast in your chest. People were staring, but they had big, admiring eyes. You wondered if they envied you. You hoped they did. Whenever the dance pulled you away from Hyunjin, you took those few seconds to observe him, his bright eyes, his chest rising a little too fast. He was out of breath but not in a bad way, in a way that made him even more handsome.

And when the dance brought you back to him, you cherished it, the melody of the violins and cello filling your whole heart. You hoped you would never forget this moment. 

Just behind you, you heard Lord Christopher’s voice boom over the strings. “FASTER! FASTER!” he begged, supported by a roar of applause and cheers from the crowd. 

You caught a glimpse of the musicians’ faces at that moment—smiling wide, just like you, but playfully. They nodded to one another and began changing the tempo of the song, playing it faster and faster, forcing the dancers to twirl and twirl and hop and slide to an increasingly rapid pace. You laughed when Hyunjin messed up one of the steps, but he was still smiling.

“Fuck you, Bang!” he shouted over his shoulder, not halting his dancing one bit. “I’ll get back at you for this!” 

“You can always try, Hwang—was still worth seeing you move your ass!” Lord Christopher responded, causing both you and Lady Bang to laugh hysterically. 

“Gotta say I’m with Bang on that one, Hwang!” Jungkook added. “Didn’t expect you to pull that stick out of your ass and dance like that!” 

He and Lord Christopher joined the laughter.

And so did Hyunjin. He laughed effortlessly, holding onto you so as not to topple over. He laughed, a genuine laugh, and suddenly it was all worth it. The pain, the emptiness in your heart, the love he would never have for you. You saw a glimpse of the future—you saw yourself living with it, with this empty heart of yours, and you saw it become less heavy. Could it be true?

The dance finally ended—you were winded from it, yet exhilarated. Hyunjin bowed to you and you bowed back, also thanking the musicians for this fun moment. You stepped away from the dance floor—the last waltz had made more people want to dance, and the area was getting a little crowded. Hyunjin held your hand again, and you noticed he was walking in Changbin’s direction—his associate was in deep conversation with two men who looked rather important. But Hyunjin was taking his time getting there.

“Thank you for the dance, my lady,” he said into your ear.

“Thank you my lord,” you responded with an exaggerated dip of your head. The scent of his cologne laced with his sweat invaded your nostrils again, and you could swear your undergarments would be damp from it. “You move quite well.”

Hyunjin offered you a smile. At the same time, Changbin was motioning him to come closer, but he didn’t oblige him just yet, staying close to you. And you stayed close to him. Hand in hand. “I’m too drunk, am I?” Hyunjin whispered, and you heard him despite the music and the crowd. You would recognize his voice over the sound of a choir. He cupped your cheek, caressing your skin. You shivered from it, your cunt throbbing. “I’m so sorry…” 

His gaze fell on your lips. Hyunjin tilted his head just slightly, leaning closer, and closer, and closer. Oh god, his mouth was right there, so close—

He placed a kiss on your cheek, at the exact place where your lips ended. The kiss was warm and wet, and longer than it needed to be. Warmth spread underneath your skin, pooling between your legs. “Darling,” he said, his mouth just millimeters away from your parted lips. “My pretty wife…” His whiskey-coated words fell onto your tongue and you kept them there, just an instant, before you swallowed them. 

He pulled away then, his face flushed, a few loose strands of hair sticking to his face. And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd, only to reappear by Changbin’s side with the two other men. You tried to even out your breathing as you observed the scene from afar, understanding that Hyunjin was suggesting they go walk elsewhere, and you had to admit you could use some fresh air yourself. 

So you let Hyunjin go ahead, making your way through the crowd. You found Lady Bang with a group of other ladies and they spent a good while complimenting your dancing, your gown, and your husband. How elegant he was, graceful, handsome. You thanked them, but Lady Bang must have known something was wrong because she shot you a concerned glance. “Do you want to go upstairs?” she asked, putting a glass of lemon water in your hand. You drank eagerly. 

“N—no,” you replied, but the answer was yes. You needed to step away from this place. You needed fresh air. Maybe you could make your way upstairs and find the roofed patio and stay there a little while—the rain wouldn’t bother you there. In any case, you did not want Lady Bang to worry about you, no matter what she had said earlier. “I’ll just go for a little stroll to unwind after the dance. And, by the way, my lady, you and your husband form a great pair—you danced beautifully.”

She blushed at that, flashing you a smile, and you left her with her friends, continuing your way through the ballroom. You managed to escape after enduring many other compliments from guests who you know were just after your husband’s favor. They certainly would like to be invited over dinner or something, but you were certain that you wouldn’t remember their name or face tomorrow. Because Hyunjin took up all of the space within you. Because he had come so close to kissing you and his lips had left a scorching mark behind and it was all that you could think of.

And yet, before you could make it out of the ballroom, you came face to face with Lord Jungkook himself. “My lady,” he said with an elegant bow. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night.” He had a vague smile on his face and it looked good on him. He leaned in closer, and the smell of his perfume clashed with Hyunjin’s cologne in your nose, but not necessarily in a bad way. His scent was more citrusy, sweeter, too. “I feel bad for asking, but I’m ready to beg on my knees for a dance with you, my lady.” 

He stared at you with his big doe eyes. Jungkook was a tall man with perpetually playful eyes and a relaxed demeanor. He was handsome and he knew it, and his smile shone brighter than sunlight. “A dance?” you managed, your cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. “My lord, is this appropriate?”

He dipped his head gracefully. “Please call me Jungkook.” When he lifted his face again, the smile had changed a little, but was no less genuine. “I’ve just talked with my mother—it would seem that you will be taking our head steward away from us, and I believe that in exchange for that, you owe me a dance. After all, this is my home, isn’t it? Shouldn’t I be dancing with the most beautiful girl here?”

“This is hardly appropriate, I—” You let the rest of the sentence trail away when Jungkook simply offered you his hand.

“Just one dance. Please.” 

You stared around. Hyunjin was nowhere to be found and neither was Changbin. However, you located Kim Taehyung and Doctor Yun in a dark corner of the room, and you decided that you’d rather dance with Jungkook all night than come face to face with either of these two.

So you took his hand and followed him back onto the dance floor. 

The piece was a slow waltz, and you got in position with Jungkook amongst the many other pairs. He bowed to you, deeply, more than he needed to, and you responded with the same decorum. Jungkook put his hands in the most respectful places he could, and you danced. 

He was a much different dancer than Hyunjin was, or maybe it was because of the slow pace of the song. He moved leisurely, not minding the beat too much, simply following the music as though it was a general idea, not a law. His footwork was light and pleasant. It was fun to dance with him too, and you found his smile rather endearing. He seemed to enjoy the dance too. 

This sort of waltz, you knew, was the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation with someone in the most private way, right in front of everyone. You remembered a story that your mother told you, about how some people revealed terrible or wonderful secrets during those waltzs, because there was always a crowd to witness should things go awry, but nobody—not even the other dancers—could hear what was being discussed. And it seemed that Jungkook was also aware of this.

“I’m surprised not to see your husband around, my lady,” Jungkook commented early into the waltz. “I would have expected him to drag me away from you the minute I put my hands on you. Respectfully.” 

“It’s only a dance,” you pointed out. You could blame the wine and brandy for what you said next, though. “Unless you’re afraid of my husband, Lord Jungkook?” 

He seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth banter, or at least that was what his chuckle indicated. He nodded in appreciation. “Well, considering what happened on your wedding night, perhaps I ought to be afraid of him. Yun ran here with his tail between his legs, defeated.”

“Fuck Yun,” you spat, and the violence in your voice clashed with the lovely violin melody. “Deserved worse for what he did to your doctor, my lord. I must say I’m delighted to hear that Su-jin and his family will be relocated with us.”

“I meant it, do call me Jungkook.” You couldn’t read the expression on his face. “And I’m actually delighted for Mr. Su-jin myself. I have not given Yun a permanent job, only a temporary one. He is leaving at the end of the month.” There was a brief pause in the middle of his declaration. “He said some things about you. And Hyunjin.” 

Your heart skipped a beat and you hoped that Jungkook didn’t notice your slight jump and how you were holding onto him tighter. “I imagine.”

Something shifted in Jungkook’s attitude. He became more serious. “I think the things he said are right, my lady. It doesn’t give him the right to be a prick, but I don’t think Doctor Yun is lying about the state of your maidenhood, which is a shame. Taehyung and I made a bet.”

As though the first half of the sentence wasn’t terrible enough, the second part almost made you collapse. If Lord Jeon and Mr. Kim knew, how many others knew as well? And how many of those thought this was a laughing matter? “A bet? How dare you—”

But Jungkook didn’t let you finish. “I said Hyunjin couldn’t resist you if you were pretty enough—which you are. Tae said there was no way Hyunjin would stick his cock inside you and risk impregnating you, no matter how pretty.” The way he said it was so lewd that it got your brain a little confused. You should be enraged, but you found yourself pressing your thighs together, blushing deeply. Jungkook’s hand on your waist guided you through this dance. “It’s a shame, if you ask me. I’d never do this—or rather, not do this—to you if you were my wife.” 

With that, Jungkook flashed you yet another cocky smile. You gave him a little nudge, even though you shouldn’t, but you just couldn’t help it. “Is that how a nobleman should address a lady? Are you making assumptions about the state of my marriage—which, by the way, if you’ve heard the information through Doctor Yun, you must know it to be inaccurate?”

“I think you’ve got my intentions all wrong, Lady Hwang.” Jungkook tilted his head, studying you carefully. “I understand why, but I’m not saying this as your enemy, or your husband’s enemy. Quite the contrary, actually.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you chose to say. You loosened your grip on him, but Jungkook did not let go of you, continuing to dance and dance with you as if you two were discussing sunny weather, but he was holding your reputation, Hyunjin’s reputation, and your whole entire life in his hands. 

“Can we stop pretending? Please? If you’re not a virgin anymore it is not by your husband’s doing. And—good for you as well as for that guy, whoever he is. I’m not here to quarrel. I asked you to dance with me because I have an offer for you, one that might shock you, one that might make you want to strike me in the face—but it would be in your best interest to listen to me.” 

His words shocked you, but not because of what he was saying per se. It was because he was saying it, period. He was saying out loud the things that haunted you, making them as real as the wooden planks beneath you, as real as the wax of the candles melting all over the tables. Nobody had spoken those words aloud to you except Ha-ri that one time. Nobody dared mention the little piece of flesh inside you, the one that caused you so much torment. The one you thought, one day, you would offer to Hyunjin as a symbol of the love you had for him. And Jungkook just said it so nonchalantly. It made you wonder if everybody in this room knew. If every single member of this nobility circle was fully aware that Hyunjin had not, and would not fuck you.

But you did not let it show. That you were moved. That the situation had stirred strong emotions within you. “I doubt you know what is in my best interest, Lord Jungkook.” You would estimate that the song was about halfway over, but it felt as though you had been dancing for an entire week. 

Jungkook pulled you closer to him, too close—you found yourself flush with him, his arm wrapped around you, guiding you firmly through the slides and hops and steps. The night was advanced enough that you figured more people were too drunk to notice the closeness of your bodies. You were drunk, too, swayed by the beauty of the music and the wine on Jungkook’s breath. 

He spoke into your ear, making it look like he wasn’t, like the two of you were simply dancing and nothing else. “I know the stares and the talks that people have about rich women married to important men who don’t carry children. I had an aunt like that. She died a sad woman. Old, alone, disgraced because her husband's bloodline ended with her.” 

Jungkook must have guessed the effect this would have on you because he held you as your knees became limp. He held you tightly, without hurting you, almost gently. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe what he had just said to you, and how disgustingly true it all was. Couldn’t believe that you were still dancing and yet you were, although he was holding most of your weight, swirling you around the dancefloor effortlessly.

He cleared his throat. “I can help you if you want, dear. I can provide an heir.”

When you tried to pull away, he did not let you, keeping you right where he wanted you. A twinge of panic took over you, but there was something else in your heart, something stronger than fear. The desperate need to be heard, to be seen, to be understood. Despite the nature of what Jungkook was saying, despite how fucked up it all was, a sick part of you was relieved that this knowledge that you had, this burden—he was holding a little bit of it, too. 

But still, he had just offered something awful, something he should be ashamed of. Something you knew was common practice, and yet. “How dare y—”

“Shhh.” He silenced you with a finger lightly pressed on your lips for half a second, but the contact was enough to send little blazing sparks all over your body. Or maybe that was just rage. “I’m not just thoughtlessly saying that, dear. My balls are full of unborn Hwangs—you would be giving birth to a real future Lord or Lady Hwang, by the laws and rules of genetics and heredity.” 

With this, Jungkook pulled his upper body away a little, scanning your face to see your reaction. He wasn’t smiling anymore—in fact, he was solemn. You stared back, your gaze blank, your body going from limp to as tense as an iron rod. You understood very well what he had just said and yet it was as though you couldn’t process it. “But you’re Lord Jeon.” 

“My name is Lord Jeon. My mother was not going to lose her reputation because she had a couple of evenings of weakness and let some handsome lord from another town do her. How much clearer do I need to be for you to understand what I’m saying?” 

You saw it then. It had been there the whole time, painfully obvious yet cleverly concealed. You saw it in the way Jungkook’s dark hair flowed with each of his movements. The round tip of his nose, the depth of his eyes that were not unlike molasses over a slice of pound cake. You froze in the middle of the dance floor, so violently that even Jungkook could no longer make you move. You stood before him, filled with shock, and fear and dismay. 

Jungkook gave you a couple of seconds to get over it. It was not enough, but it was all you could get. The song was coming to an end, and you needed to keep dancing until it was over. He grabbed you again, swirling and catching up with the others. 

“We have our father’s eyes, or so my mother claims,” Jungkook said. His voice was shaking a little. “I’m not even the firstborn—Taehyung is.” He laughed a little bitterly at that. “But I made the offer to you because Tae isn’t into pussy very much.” There was a pause in his sentence there, as though he was wondering how to end this shocking revelation. Like he wanted to soften the blow somehow. “We also have a little sister somewhere, apparently. But I don’t know where she is, or who she is. I don’t even know her name.” 

Hyunjin and Jungkook were rivals but not in the sense you had thought. They were rivals because they were brothers, true brothers, by blood. You saw the Hwang blood in Taehyung too, it made sense—his long neck, his easy elegance, his broad shoulders. He was tall, too, and soft-spoken, no matter how despicable he may have been. 

It made sense. It made so much sense that you needed to sit in a quiet room for about a week while you processed that information. Of course Hyunjin didn’t like the Jeons. Of course he hated Taehyung. Mr. Kim could jeopardize Hyunjin’s whole entire life. Despite being born outside of marriage, he was the firstborn, yet he did not have a title. All he had was Jungkook, this half-brother of his. 

You could see that, perhaps, Kim Taehyung sought after some of Hyunjin’s wealth and recognition, or maybe he wanted all of it. Not that he could—but, maybe he thought that if he couldn’t have it, neither could Hyunjin. At any moment, he could come forward with this secret and make a case for it, disturbing Hyunjin’s claim over Hwang Estate and the factory and everything else.

The song was ending—just a few more notes, you could tell this much. You shot a worried glance at Jungkook. “Who knows” Who else knows?”

“My mother, Tae’s mother, our sister’s mother, your husband. And now you know, too.”

“Yun? Does Yun know?” 

Jungkook’s silence spoke plenty. When the dance ended, a short pause was announced to let the musicians relax for some time. The crowd around the dance floor dispersed, but you stayed where you were, face to face with this man who you were seeing with brand new eyes. 

“Taehyung has been keeping things from me lately. He wasn’t like that before,” Jungkook explains. “He’s sulky. He’s greedy. And the more time he spends with that awful doctor, the worse it’s getting.” He had let go of you after the dance, but he put his hand on your arm again, letting it trail down until he held your hand. “Whatever they’re conspiring… Listen, I wasn’t offering you this to get under your skirt. I mean it—there is real danger here. For you and for Hyunjin.” He gulped, averting his eyes for a short while. “I do like him. He’s my brother. If he can’t get over it and make this marriage valid… I don’t want you to end up with Taehyung. He will not be as kind as Hyunjin. He will not be kind at all.” 

He let go of your hand, clinging onto your fingers for a few more seconds than he needed to. His gaze kept flicking between you and the rest of the room, like he was looking for something, or rather, hoping not to see it. “Why are you affiliated with Kim if he’s such a monster? He has a high place in your business, he lives here, he…”

Jungkook cut you off. “He’s my brother too. Hyunjin handles his demons in a certain way, doesn’t he? The whiskey, the brothels, and his general lack of emotion. Well, Taehyung handles the demons in some other ways. Striking first is his only defense. I figured that by keeping him close, I could have an eye on him and do damage control. When I can, I prevent it. This is what I’m doing here. I’m trying to prevent whatever catastrophe would happen should the truth about you and Hyunjin—and the truth about our father—get out in the open. Which I suspect it could. Very soon.” 

He was right. Lord Jungkook was right and you hated that he was, and you hated him for it, too. You respected him for it more, though. Still, it felt as though there was no air entering your lungs when you inhaled. It felt as if something heavy lay on your chest, like you had no other sensation other than this one, and the crippling fear coursing through your veins.

You could imagine it very well—such cases had occurred before. A marriage made unlawful because it had not been consummated—and would never be, either. And, for fuck’s sake, nobody would have a hard time believing Hyunjin had not fucked you, because everybody seemed to know about the demons in his heart and the holes in his soul. Nobody would have a hard time believing Hyunjin would never want to fuck you because why would he want to? Why would he want you? From there, it wouldn’t be that hard either to believe that he was Mr. Kim’s half-brother. Jungkook didn’t need to go after Hyunjin’s legacy because he had a name, he owned land and he had money, which Taehyung didn’t, but it wouldn't be hard to believe that he was related to him as well.

Had it been their fathers who had sent men to kill Lord Hwang? Had they been a part of it?

Would Kim Taehyung do the same thing to Hyunjin? 

When you could feel your limbs again, it struck you like lightning. It was so strong that it hurt you like you had been kicked in the chest, like you had fallen from the second floor. “I—I need air—” The room was hot, humid, and you had danced and drank too much. You retreated and Lord Jeon tried to follow you. You raised an arm, keeping at least this much distance between you and him. “Please—I need—” You just needed quiet. You just needed a moment to yourself while you gathered your senses. While you thought about your next move.

Your mother had prepared you for many things, but not for that. 

You escaped Jungkook’s grasp, elbowing your way through the crowd. The more you tried to breathe, the more it hurt. Your skin was boiling hot but your insides were icy cold, and you trembled so much that you could barely walk. Your teeth clattered all the way to the hallway, but that wasn’t enough. You needed to be farther away still, so you walked some more until you reached a side exit. There was a maid there, and when she saw you approach the door, she warned you that it was raining outside. Your dress, my lady. To hell with your fucking dress, and your fucking hair, and this fucking place. To hell with everything.

Breathe. It will not be as awful as you think it will be. Hyunjin had been repeating these words in his mind since you had gifted them to him. 

He had only been on these grounds once before, and he had been too little to hold any sort of tangible memories of the visit, which had been a secret. A thing between his mother and him. Don’t tell your father about this, my son. He’s very busy and he would not understand. 

Hyunjin had not been busy but he most definitely could not understand why his mother had requested a carriage to visit the hospital with Hyunjin. He could not remember what she had said exactly, but Hyunjin knew she had made up a reason as to why she needed to be in the city on that day. He had been young but old enough to know that lying was wrong and reprehensible, like that time he lied to the chef about whether he had already eaten cookies for dessert. No, I haven’t, can I have a cookie please, sir? Hyunjin had been a well-behaved child, at least before he became aware of his father’s reputation. Before he became aware of the reason why people were staring at him and his family—it was not out of envy or admiration. It was contempt. 

Are you eating another cookie? You ate one just earlier! Who gave it to you? Who? Hyunjin, sometimes, could still feel the sting of the strikes. He could remember scraped elbows and knees from being thrown on the floor or against walls. Hyunjin knew that lying was bad, but he did it sometimes, regardless. 

For example, he lied to his father about the cookie that day. He said he stole it from the kitchen so that the chef would not get in trouble for giving it to him. Hyunjin was small, he could always pretend that the bruises came from playing outside recklessly. An adult couldn't say such things, and people would be talking. They would find out it was Hyunjin's father who beat him, and that might be bad. Hyunjin didn't want everybody to know that his father was mean.

But one day, his mother brought him with her. Where are we going, mom? She would not tell him. She would only tell him she was visiting an old friend and that he should not tell his father. That his father would not even ask, because he thought they were going to the hospital to visit a relative of hers, and dad doesn’t care about mom’s family, okay? He won’t even ask, I promise. In the end, she had been right—he never even mentioned it. 

They had stopped here, right in front of the mansion. It had been a crisp fall day and Hyunjin was wearing his favorite scarf at the time—the red and white one that you sent him the year before. He remembered looking at the mansion with wide eyes, as Hyunjin rarely left home, and he had seldom seen a house as big as this one. He particularly liked the tree growing on the left side. There had been a bench beneath it, and it was where his mother and he had been guided toward by a man who left immediately after. Hyunjin just sat there for a while with his mom. She was not speaking a word—this, he remembered well. 

And then another woman had come, followed by a boy. The woman was beautiful and so was the boy. His dark hair was ruffled, as though he had played outside in the wind. 

The women had urged the boys to go play a little farther. Hyunjin did not want to leave his mother, but she insisted, so he did. The boy was a little older than him and a few inches taller, although Hyunjin was tall for his age. He couldn’t know this yet, but they would grow up to be the exact same height. 

“You’re Hyunjin,” the boy had said. He had a playful smile on his face and he was studying Hyunjin very carefully, from left to right and front to back, circling him. “I’m Jungkook. I’m your brother.”

Hyunjin had been quite offended by that. “No, I don’t have a brother.”

“You have two brothers, stupid. I’m one of them. But it’s a secret, so don’t go and tell anyone about it.”

Why would Hyunjin want to tell people something that wasn’t true anyway? “You shouldn’t lie,” Hyunjin had said. “It’s wrong. You should pray tonight.” Hyunjin prayed sometimes at night, but he didn’t think anyone was actually listening. It was a quite lonely activity, but he did it nonetheless. 

“It’s not a lie, it’s true. You’re just too young to understand.” 

Hyunjin did not like it when people assumed he was not intelligent, or when people thought he was too young to comprehend certain things. He wanted to shove Jungkook into the big camellia shrub nearby. He also wanted to run back to his mother, but Jungkook would certainly make fun of him for it and call him a baby. So instead Hyunjin stayed there. Behind them, his mom was still on the bench with the other lady.

“I’m not too young. My mom’s belly is a little ill, she can’t grow many babies in them,” Hyunjin explained. “I’m the only one who survived.”

Jungkook’s laugh had been so loud it had startled Hyunjin. “Do you even know how babies are made? You’re just a kid.” Hyunjin could not know it yet, but Jungkook was only a child too, only, he knew a little bit more about certain things at that period of their lives. “Your dad is my dad. But we can’t talk about it too much. I’m not supposed to tell you. If you tell your mother we talked about this, we’ll both be in trouble. That’s what brothers do—they tell each other secrets and they never repeat them to anybody else.”

Hyunjin’s heart was still pure at that time, and he wanted very badly for this to be true. He wanted to have a brother to play with, to defend him against his father when he wanted to hit him or shout at him. He would also have defended him should the need arise. He’d show him his favorite corner of the pine forest, the one where the rabbits had their nest. 

“I don’t have a secret though,” Hyunjin had pointed out. He did not think the rabbits counted as a real secret.

“Aw, come on! You have to have a secret! You’re Lord Hwang’s son!” 

Hyunjin had thought about it for a while, walking aimlessly in the yard with Jungkook. They would stop sometimes when they saw a really cool rock or if a squirrel was passing by. The wind had been relentless though, and Hyunjin had needed to adjust the scarf around his neck. “I have a big secret, but you really can’t tell anyone.”

“My secret was bigger.”

A shrug. Hyunjin wasn’t even sure Jungkook’s secret was true at all, although he couldn’t deny the resemblance between his eyes and his father’s eyes—with his own, too. “I don’t care. I have a friend somewhere near the sea, and one day, she’ll be my wife.” That was no secret—everybody knew that, so he just went on. “She sent this scarf for my birthday, and my secret is that I wear the scarf at night, I keep it with me. I love her. Do you think I’m too young to love her?” Hyunjin was asking the question in earnest—if Jungkook was his older brother, then, shouldn’t he give him this sort of advice?

But Jungkook had not seemed impressed. “That’s a lame secret, Hwang. It’s just a scarf. Now, tell me—is there a room with a locked door in your house? I found one in mine, and my father—Lord Jeon, I mean—was so mad that he beat me. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I couldn’t see much, it was too dark. The only thing I did was drink some of his liquor.” 

“Woah. I wish I had a room like that.” He would hide all of his treasures in it. He would hide some pencils and charcoal and paper where his father could never find them, could never see him draw. The last time, he had thrown all of Hyunjin’s drawings in the fire. “My father beats me too sometimes, you know? When it hurts too much, I go swimming in the lake.” 

Jungkook had found nothing to say about this. And it was alright because Hyunjin’s mother was calling him back. Her eyes were red from crying, but she crouched to look at him and Jungkook in the eyes. “Oh,” was all she had said. She had touched Jungkook’s face as tenderly as she would his. And then they had left. 

“GOODBYE HYUNJIN!!!!!!!!!” He had heard Jungkook’s scream from the other side of the yard as they were climbing back in the carriage. 

Looking behind his shoulder, he had seen him waving widely at him, and Hyunjin had responded the same way. “GOODBYE JUNGKOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Are we really going home?” Hyunjin had asked. It seemed strange to make all this journey just for a few minutes. 

“Yes, my Hyunjin. You will not speak of this to your father, will you?” She had bit her lip. “What did you and the other boy talk about?” 

“I can’t tell you, mom. It’s a secret.” Real brother or not, Hyunjin intended to honor the promise between Jungkook and him. And he did for a long while. For years, really, until everything became dark and bad and terrible on Hwang Estate. 

Breathe. It will not be as awful as you think it will be. Every moment felt awful to Hyunjin tonight. Every second spent in that manor was pure torture. He could not help but wonder how it had come to be. Had his father sought Lady Jeon specifically? Had he simply visited Lord Jeon as a courtesy and then found himself alone with his wife? Or had Lord Jeon been present while it happened, and his wife had simply brought Lord Hwang in the room with the lock on the door?

Breathe. Hyunjin did not want to think about how and why his father had fucked Lady Jeon. And all the other women. He did not want to think about the way his mother had suffered through this, through his father’s wrongdoings. Hyunjin had always wondered if she had been relieved at all. When he died. She had insisted on seeing the body. This was something Hyunjin knew because he was a quiet kid and used to listen to conversations through windows and doors. But it was the only way he could ever know anything—they kept him in the dark otherwise. 

This is what he had heard that time—that his mother had requested to see his dead father’s body and that she had really looked at him and touched him, too. She had touched the stabbing wounds on him, she had run her fingers through his dark hair. She had asked Doctor Yun, How long did it take for him to die? Did he suffer? And she had not seemed to mind when the answer was yes. 

There were days Hyunjin thought that the shame rising from that resentment was what had killed his mother. Because she had a good heart, and she would never wish pain upon anyone. Well, almost anyone, it seemed. Maybe she hadn't been able to help it with his father.

And so he hated every single second he spent here in this cursed place. He hated the high ceilings and the perfectly waxed floors and he hated how good the whiskey was. 

And, above all, he hated what he was seeing right now. You, on that dancefloor, swirling with Jeon Jungkook.

He should not have let you leave his sight, it had been a mistake. An honest one. The truth was that after dancing with you, Hyunjin was rock hard. Leaking into his pants, drunk on whiskey and drunk on you and the way your tits bounced every time you hopped. The feeling of you in his arms and him guiding your movements. It was a little too easy to imagine doing the same but on a bed, or against a wall, just holding you there and doing whatever he wanted with you. 

You liked to sleep in his bed, and Hyunjin liked that you slept in his bed. He liked that you spent entire evenings just watching him paint. In fact, he liked it so much that he would keep painting even if he hated it, just to be in your presence. You always left a sweet perfume wherever you went, and now his quarters, and his bed, smelled like you. 

And Hyunjin liked it that you slept in his bed, but you drove him crazy. He would wake up in the middle of the night covered by a film of sweat, his clothes sticking to his stomach, his underpants soiled with his cum after violently orgasming in his sleep. Sometimes, he would wake up while he was still hard, his cock aching and throbbing, so sensitive that he had to slow his breathing to a minimum. Every slight movement caused friction between him and his clothes, or the bed, and could make him blow at any moment. Those nights were the worst. Those nights were the best. 

He would think about the things he wanted to do to you. He wanted to pull you close to him, bury his face into your sweet-scenting hair, pressing your ass against his hard cock just to rub himself all over you. Would that make you dream of him? Would you moan?

Would he smell your pussy as it got wet? 

Would you open your legs in your slumber, relaxing in his arms?

Or would he need to open them for you? Because he would. He wanted to get on his knees, as gently as possible, so as not to wake you, and then Hyunjin wanted to open your legs and smell your cunt. If he could, he’d taste it and cum to that alone, just your scent, your taste melting on his tongue. 

Those nights he woke up in the middle of the night, with you in his bed, Hyunjin would sometimes cum if you rolled over in your sleep and he smelled your hair or caught a glimpse of you, your collarbone, your décolletage. It didn’t take much, his hand shoved into his pants and a couple of strokes on his cock and he came violently.

Some nights, he wanted to cum on you. Your face. He wanted to see it land on your cheek and roll onto your lips. He wanted to see his cum drip into your mouth and he wanted to see you swallow it. He would kiss you after, yes, he would. Would you like that? Would you like to wake up with the taste of his cum in your mouth, or would you rather wake up with the feeling of his cock stretching your cunt? Sometimes, Hyunjin was so consumed by lust that he imagined fucking you until you cried. He thought about how pretty you would be with your face all messed up and red and your pussy all puffy and flushed and wet. He liked to think about driving his cock so hard into you that you’d beg him to stop, only to beg him to please, please keep fucking you if he did stop. He liked to think about your legs closing around his waist, begging him to fuck you deeper. He’d ask you if it hurt and you’d say yes, please, keep going. And he couldn’t stop himself from cumming, over and over, into your sweet cunt. 

You were dangerous. More dangerous than whiskey or opium or any whore living on the planet. Because you were you. You were the girl who sent him letters every year and drew little hearts around his name. You were the woman he had married, his darling, his virgin beekeeper. 

And the sight of you swirling on that dance floor with his half-brother had him livid. How dare he? How could he think this was even remotely okay? Didn’t he know? Didn’t he know Hyunjin did not like to share? 

The crowd was dense, but Hyunjin was tall enough to see everything from here. You and him dancing but in deep conversation. Your pretty face as you listened intently to Jungkook. Your pink lips parted open… 

Hyunjin closed his fists, exhaling sharply, rage taking over him. Jungkook was touching you. Holding you in the same way that he, your husband, just held you for a dance. Your face was flushed—was it because of Jungkook’s hand on your waist? Did you like that feeling? Was there a scenario playing in your head where Jungkook whispered lewd things into your ear before dragging you away from the dance floor? What were you imagining would happen after that? That he would bend you over and fuck your pretty pussy from behind? Were you craving it? Would you beg him to fuck you harder, deeper? 

Jungkook had no right over you, no matter what he might want to believe. He had no claim over you and neither did Kim Taehyung. 

Hyunjin observed the dance for a little while more, deciding on what he ought to do. What he wanted to do was to go get you, leave this fucking place, and never come back. And yet, he knew he couldn’t. It used to just be him, and his actions only had consequences for him. It was no longer the case. You were Lady Hwang now, and if he bitterly left a party where many of his acquaintances were also present, people would talk, and it would hurt you. Hyunjin knew a little too intimately the pain coming from the mocking gazes of strangers. Or worse, from not strangers.

So Hyunjin waited. After the song, he would go see you and maybe go for a walk with you. You’d have to wait until the rain calmed down before leaving… But he just wanted to be in your presence. He wanted to try and make things okay with you again.

He fucked up and he knew he fucked up. I love you too. I love you, I love you, I love you. It was true, so why couldn’t he say it? Hyunjin was pretty sure he loved you since the very first letter you sent him, and the love he had for you had only grown bigger, stronger, deeper. 

Nothing had ever hurt him as much as your eyes in the moment he failed at saying those words. Something had shattered in you, something already fragile, and his silence had been like a breeze blowing over it and breaking it all apart, whatever it was. Your heart, maybe. Some of the shards of it had spilled out of you only to come and lodge themselves in his chest and in his throat, and he could still feel them tonight. The whiskey did not help, not enough. 

Hyunjin noticed a change in the pacing of your dance—you stopped in the middle of it, staring at Jungkook with terror in your eyes. 

What had he just told you? What could possibly shock you like that?

No, Hyunjin thought. It’s impossible. 

That’s what brothers do—they tell each other secrets and they never repeat them to anybody else.

There was very little that Jungkook could immediately benefit from telling you about his blood relation to him. Unless, of course, he told you for his own amusement, which wouldn’t necessarily surprise Hyunjin—Jungkook had not had a difficult life, causing him to grow into a man who was constantly seeking entertainment.

Hyunjin watched the scene. You pulled away from Jungkook and disappeared into the crowd. The sound of conversations became louder as the music faded away, but it was just background noise for Hyunjin. He couldn’t make out any of it. All that he wanted was to locate you before Yun did—nothing else. 

If that old piece of shit even looked your way… Hyunjin didn’t think he could control himself. Not tonight. He was too on edge, and he was tired and he was sad. If Yun tried anything, Hyunjin might just kill him. He might just bash his skull against the brick of the wall, or maybe he’d want to kick him repeatedly in his old, disgusting wrinkled balls. Until he cried. Until he begged Hyunjin to please, please stop. But Hyunjin would make him admit to it—he’d make Yun admit that all he was after was your pretty cunt. He’d make him admit that all he wanted was to have an excuse to touch you. And Hyunjin would make him pay for it. 

Hyunjin went after you, almost desperately. He did not like those feelings inside him, the ones that made him resentful and angry. But when he was with you, just with you, they disappeared. The voices in his head quieted down, too, and he could enjoy the moment. Just you, and him, a cup of honeyed milk, or a glass of whiskey. The smile you had for him sometimes, when you thought he couldn’t see you.

As Hyunjin made his way through the crowd, he was stopped when Jungkook put himself in his way. “Hey, Hwang. We need to talk.”

We need to talk. “Talk about what?” Hyunjin glanced around the room, but he had lost you. He couldn’t see you anymore. Were you with Lady Bang? With Changbin? With Yun? “Fuck off, Jeon, and if you want to live peacefully, don’t you ever fucking touch my wife again.” 

Jungkook’s faint smile disappeared which unsettled Hyunjin. He was used to his cocky smirk—not this. His eyes lowered for an instant, but he did not budge. “Can we just talk? Somewhere? Let’s go to—”

But Hyunjin had no intention of going anywhere with him, or with Kim Taehyung, or any of these literal bastards. “What did you tell her? What did you fucking tell her?” He was seething. He was fuming. Hyunjin felt the heat rise within him, spreading underneath his skin. He asked the question fully aware of the truth. Hyunjin had known from the moment he saw your face turn from shocked to terrified. Still—he needed to ask anyway. 

At least, Jungkook had the grace not to lie to his face or play pretense games with him. He opened his mouth to respond but waited before uttering any words while a group of men walked by, waving at them in passing. When they were far enough, he turned to Hyunjin again. “She has the right to know. She’s your wife.”

A bubble of anger exploded somewhere within Hyunjin. “Yes. My wife. Mine. Fucking traitor—you said it was a secret, you said—she’s MY fucking wife, she—” But there is no more space for words in Hyunjin’s mind. There was only rage and there was only fear. You loved him—you said so. Would you still love him now that you knew?

For a moment there, it felt as though Hyunjin was free-falling. He stood before Jungkook, looking into his father’s eyes, and for half a second, there was nothing else. He was a little boy again, confused, afraid, ashamed. He was the little boy who wanted brothers but who knew they could claim what was his. He was the little boy who just wanted his father to love him.

Hyunjin grabbed Jungkook by the collar of his shirt and punched him in the face. Hard. And it shocked him that he did it. Jungkook must have been just as surprised because his reaction took a long time to happen. Neither of them could believe it, and yet.

Jungkook punched Hyunjin right back, getting him on the nose and then near the temple, but Hyunjin managed to dive in time to dodge the worst of that one. Still, his brother was strong, and pushed Hyunjin into the wall behind him, keeping him there, firmly in place, with his forearm across his throat. Not unlike the way Hyunjin’s father did when he was upset with him, like when he took one of his pens to doodle during a business meeting instead of listening to what the grown-ups were saying. 

The arm on his throat prevented him from breathing well, but he shoved his knee into Jungkook’s stomach in a desperate attempt to free himself. Jungkook was not impressed, groaning in pain and anger, his face red from it, too. 

There was a crowd quickly gathering around them, but nobody dared to intervene just yet. Most of them, Hyunjin knew, were quite entertained by the sight of two rival lords getting into a physical fight. 

Jungkook leaned into his ear to talk to him so as not to be heard. “I’m not trying to cause damage to you. I’m fucking trying to help you, Hwang. Always have. Swallow your fucking pride, will you, brother?” Jungkook was bleeding from a cut on his lip, while Hyunjin was bleeding from his nose. And with that, he just let go of him. 

Hyunjin wanted to throw himself on Jungkook and bring him down onto the floor to hit him proper. To disfigure him enough that he would no longer remind him of his father. Jungkook’s legacy was better and bigger than his—was there a chance that he had offered you a deal? Jungkook did not like girls too much—to be fair, he did not like boys too much either. He had no time to commit and no desire to. But what if? He was obviously the better choice. And Hyunjin was certain that Jungkook would not hesitate to give you a baby. And you would live without shame. Hyunjin would never be enough for you anyway, would he? His pretty wife. His kind, beautiful beekeeper.

Hyunjin tried to grab Jungkook again, but two figures emerged from the crowd to put themselves in between the two men. Changbin and Chris. Of course. Changbin went to Jungkook, just standing in front of him, staring at Hyunjin with concerned eyes. Chris, however, was just as pissed as Hyunjin. With good reason, he figured—after all, Christopher had been the one who had tried fixing Hyunjin all those years. But Hyunjin did not think anything would fix him. Some things were just broken beyond repair, much like the little glass vial you had sent him with the sea salt and the coral. 

“Take a talk, Jeon,” Christopher grunted, turning his back on Hyunjin to face Jungkook, protecting him with his whole body. “Fuck off.” He had never been fond of him or Kim anyway.

Changbin seemed more poised, more rational. “No need for that here, gentlemen. Let’s take this elsewhere, shall we?” 

“We’re leaving anyway.” Hyunjin spat some of the blood that had dripped from his nose and into his mouth. It coated its tongue but it wished it were you and your taste invading his mouth. “I knew that coming here wouldn't end well anyway.” But maybe that a tiny part of him had hoped to be wrong about that.

He glanced around the room, looking for you. Surely, the chaos from the fight had alerted you and brought you closer, right? But while Hyunjin caught a glimpse of Kim Taehyung at the other side of the room, leaning on a wall with his arms crossed over his chest, he could not see you, and he could not see Yun, which sent him into an immediate state of panic. Hyunjin held so many secrets within him and they rendered him heavy. They made it so difficult for him to be happy.

You had one secret too, but it was because of him. And Yun obviously, was determined to shed the light on it, just so he could bring Hyunjin down. 

Hyunjin could hear some of the whispers around him, rising from lips, uttered discreetly, the humming of it tickling his ears most unpleasantly.

You know what they say, he is much like his father. 

He has demons in his eyes, the young lord Hwang.

His poor wife… imagine being married to him.

Hyunjin might have thrown another angry fit if Lady Bang hadn’t come forward. She was talking to Chris, but also addressing Changbin and him. “I can’t find her,” she said. She was a little out of breath and her cheeks were flushed. “She wasn’t in her bedroom, or any other bedroom, or the kitchen, or anywhere.”

Hyunjin was many things but stupid wasn’t one of them. If he couldn’t see you and he couldn’t see Yun either, it could only mean one thing—that he had gone after you. Immediately, vivid images took over Hyunjin’s mind. Yun forcing your legs open, his ugly hand ripping the fabric of your dress to get to your cunt. Your virgin cunt. The pussy that Hyunjin had failed to ravage. Just to get a feeling of it, so that Yun could prove his point.

So that he could set his and Kim Taehyung’s plan in motion.

Hyunjin was many things but stupid wasn’t one of them—nobody would benefit as much as Taehyung to see Hyunjin fall from grace. As the eldest Hwang son, he could, potentially, claim it all. The factory, the manor, the whole estate, including the pretty pine forest around it. The beehive he bought for you. And he could even go as far as claiming you too based on the fact that your marriage hadn’t been consummated. The legal battle would not be an easy one, but the claim would be solid, especially if he were backed by people such as Yun. And it would be all over. 

He turned to Jungkook while Changbin was working at dispersing the crowd, urging them to go dancing or get a drink elsewhere. “Where’s my wife?” But Hyunjin did not get any response. Or maybe he couldn’t hear it—Jungkook seemed as dejected as he was, unable to even talk. The buzzing noise from the crowd was louder than ever and it felt much like standing by your side as you worked around your beehive.

Hyunjin missed you. The truth was he missed you any moment you were not with him. He missed you and the way the afternoon sun hit your hair, or the way you looked when you licked honey off your fingers. The smile you had then, which was a very specific smile you only had around your bees. Full of light and freedom and sweet honey. “Where the FUCK is my wife?”

Jungkook’s face has turned pale under the dim lights of the room. He still didn’t have an answer and his eyes were confused and unfocused, as though he simply could not believe what was going on. He looked over his shoulder to look over at Taehyung, and Hyunjin had to admit at least that—Jungkook looked betrayed and hurt. He could swear he saw his brother mouthing something that could have been but you promised me. However, Hyunjin had no time to waste.

He launched himself away, knowing that a rational man like Changbin would most likely try to stop him. But he needed to find you. He would search every corner, every foot square of this awful place to find you, and nothing could ever get in his way. He might have been twisted and his heart might have been nothing more than ruins, but those ruins were yours and yours only. Hyunjin could not imagine a world in which he had not crossed paths with you. He could not imagine a world in which you were not a part of his life, you, your kind heart, your deep eyes, your soft smile, your honey. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweeter than anything he could ever have wanted. You were too good for him, always had been, but you made him want to become a better man. 

You gave him the hope that he could be more than this. And he could not let anything happen to you. He would never, ever let anything happen to you. 

So Hyunjin ran. He was mildly aware that people were running behind him also but that did not matter in the moment. He recognized voices—Changbin, Chris, Jungkook. Maybe someone else, too. It truly did not matter. Hyunjin had the longest legs anyway, and he ran faster, calling your name. It echoed into the empty hallways, filling his ears and his soul and his body, decorating it with something beautiful. 

Hyunjin ran past the kitchen, almost colliding with somebody, but stopping at the last second. He recognized the young woman as the maid who was in your room just earlier. She looked startled, keeping a hand over her round belly, but she would not let him go past her, always putting herself in his way. 

“Li-na? What is it?” Jungkook and the others had caught up to him. He came to stand near Hyunjin, keeping a hand on his shoulder as to signal him to stay close. “Did you see Lady Hwang?” He was motioning a lot, but Hyunjin couldn’t understand.

The maid nodded fervently, inviting them to follow her. She was pretty, but Hyunjin wished he had told you that you were so much more beautiful. He was many things but he was not stupid—he knew what must have gone through your mind upon seeing her. He should have said something.

There were so many times when he should have said something.

He followed Li-na in the hallways, most of which were dark or very dimly lit. At one point, Changbin almost slipped down the few steps leading to a quiet corner of the mansion, which Hyunjin recognized as the staff’s wing. Many doors were left open, showing a few people unwinding, talking and playing games—most likely the kitchen staff. Soon, the servers and maids would be able to rest too. 

Li-na slowed down, raising her index to her lips to signal them to keep quiet. They tip-toed their way to an unremarkable door, which turned out to be a side entrance, probably used by the staff when they needed to come in and out of the mansion.

She opened the door, and Hyunjin saw you immediately.

The door led to a roofed garden. It was lit by a few lanterns, but it was raining quite hard and many of them were not going to last much longer. However, some light from the mansion’s large windows was filtering all the way to the garden, providing enough light to see.

He saw you immediately, and then he heard you. A shriek, coated with terror and fury. Something so unlike you that it gave him chills. 

There were only two people in the garden. You and the awful Doctor Yun. 

And he was holding you. He held you by your arms, keeping them stuck to your sides, while he obviously tried to pull you away. “I GOT HER,” he shouted to someone—or people—somewhere past the garden. 

“MOTHERFUCKER! LEAVE ME ALONE!” You were giving Yun one hell of a time, spitting in his face, wiggling out of his grasp. “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU!” 

This lasted two, perhaps three seconds. All of them—Hyunjin, Jungkook, Changbin and Chris were too stunned to move. Li-na had retreated to safety indoors, but she was pushing on Changbin, nudging him toward the garden, desperate to get you some help. 

But then Yun did something unforgivable. He slapped you. In the face. You, his kind beekeeper. His darling wife. 

And Hyunjin saw red. Forgetting anything that wasn’t you, he sprinted toward the garden, dodging benches and flower shrubs and trees. He would kill him for that, he would kill that piece of shit for laying one finger on you. He would—

But when he made it to you, Hyunjin found Yun on the ground, laying in the mud, with you on top of him, your small hands around his neck, actively choking him. “DISGUSTING PIG!” You punctuated your sentence with a surprisingly powerful punch to the face. “HOW DARE YOU! FUCKING PRICK! HOW DARE YOU!” This time, you sank your knee into Yun’s crotch, hitting him right in the balls, causing him to cry out in pain. 

Two men were approaching the scene. They were associates of Yun, no doubt, and one of them was holding a knife, ready to strike, aiming for you. 

And in that instant it was all that mattered. That this knife never became acquainted with your smooth, perfect skin. 

It all happened very quickly. Hyunjin went for the armed man while Christopher went to you to pull you away from Yun, away from all these terrible people. Christopher loved Hyunjin very much, this, he knew—so he knew that he needed to protect the thing that Hyunjin loved most in this world. Which was you.

The man tried to stab Hyunjin in the arm when he went to punch him. On his right, Jungkook was wrestling with the other man, and winning. Hyunjin could only assume that Changbin was taking care of Yun. 

There were a lot of grunts and failed punches, and Hyunjin became aware of the blade piercing his skin around the knee, but it did not matter much to him. Nothing would matter until he knew you were safe, until he knew that you were okay. 

The injury sent him to the ground, but that allowed him to grab his opponent’s waist and bring him down with him, knocking the knife out of his hand. The pain was dull and intense, both very warm and very cold. Hyunjin could hear your voice behind, could hear other voices too, but you were all that mattered. He focused on the man in front of him, who was trying to grab his knife again. 

At the last minute, Jungkook kicked the blade away, and Hyunjin managed to land a powerful punch on the man. He seemed dazed at first, then regained some strength—he, too, hit Hyunjin hard, exactly on the cut in his thigh and then on the side of his head. Hyunjin saw white, and it felt exactly like going outside in the sun after staying in a dark room. 

He heard your voice. “Hyunjin? Hyunjin? Hyunjin?” And then the world turned black. 

Hyunjin came to slowly, emerging from his slumber and back to consciousness with a soft gasp. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to remain open, as though they were too heavy. He tried moving his head, but it was heavy too. 

It all came back to him in a powerful wave. The evening, the fight. The other fight. You. The blade in his thigh. Dancing with you. The flames from the chandelier reflecting in your eyes like a sky full of stars. Your smile. You, you, you.

He could feel the pain, still dull, but more distant. In fact, he could not feel much of his body. Just that, this pressure in his leg, the slight sting. He recognized the effects of laudanum, which had been given to him once before after a bad fall from a horse. 

The room was dark except for two candles—one by his bed and the other one on a small round table near a window with the curtain pulled. This was not his bedroom, this was not even his house. 

The Jeon mansion was quiet, quieter than one would expect for such a night, so Hyunjin could hear the rain splattering on the window. He closed his eyes again to listen, finding the sound soothing. 

“Hyunjin? Are you awake for good this time?” 

Your voice lit up the whole room. Your voice lit up his heart, too. He could not feel much but he felt your hand on him, his arm first, then his chest, and finally, his face. You cupped his cheek with cold, trembling fingers, and he felt the mattress dip when you sat on the edge of it. Soon after, you pressed a cool damp cloth on his forehead, and he reached for you, holding your wrist. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but his words got lost on the way. Instead, he nodded, tugging at you, trying to see if you were alright, if there were bruises on your face, if you had been violated. 

Every time Hyunjin moved his head felt as though the whole room moved with him. “Hyunjin, shhhh…. Shh…” You dampened the cloth again, wiping sweat off his face. You looked like an angel descended from heaven. “You’re safe.” 

Hyunjin took a deep breath, his other hand finding your face, cupping it much like you were doing to him. “Y—you—” he managed, his voice merely more than an ugly rasp. He was parched. 

Something reminiscent of a smile appeared on your face, but only for a second. “Me? I’m unharmed. See?” You pulled away a little, letting him see you. You were wearing a loose, comfortable day gown that wasn’t yours. “Stay still for now, will you? Do you want another pillow?” 

He shook his head. “T—Thirsty…” 

Hyunjin missed you the moment you left him, and you didn’t leave him really. You stood up and he heard liquid being poured into a glass. Four seconds later, you were back on the bed with your legs folded beneath you, right by his side. You helped him hold his head straight and pressed the glass against his chapped lips. The water was good, it had been sweetened and there was a pinch of salt, too. The sort of thing they gave to children with stomachaches, but he drank eagerly. One glass, then another. 

You stood again to put the glass away and went to sit on the chair by the bed, but Hyunjin needed you closer than that. He tried to get a hold of your hand, but you were too far—he propped himself up on his elbow and his fingers managed to catch the smooth fabric of your gown. “Wait…” 

You swirled around, eyebrows brought together. “Do you want more medicine? More water?” 

There were so many things Hyunjin wanted. He wanted to have never come here. He wanted to know what had happened to you. He wanted you to talk to him, to tell him everything. “I need you,” was what he said, and he meant it, but it was a scary thing to say.

Silence crept into the room, except for your soft, uneven breathing and the rain on the window. You gulped and took place again on the bed with an arm over his stomach, and one hand in his. “I’m right here.” 

He brought your hand to his lips to leave a kiss on it. You were trembling. “Tell me what happened. Where’s Yun? Are you… Did he…”

You shook your head, letting go of his hand so that you could push one strand of his hair behind his ear. You did it so lovingly that Hyunjin almost cried. Your motions were slow, purposeful, beautiful. “No, he didn’t. When I went outside for air, he ambushed me—he pretended he wanted a private talk. I was hoping I could reason with him, but that’s when he grabbed me.” You paused, your eyes trailing all over Hyunjin’s face, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. “He was unable to verify what he wanted to verify. And then you were there. And then…” You choked back a sob, and Hyunjin wouldn’t have felt any different if he had been stabbed in the heart instead of the leg. 

He pulled you close and you lay with him on the bed, your face in his neck. He kept one arm around your shoulders. “You showed him though,” he recalled. “You showed him you’re not weak like he thought you were.”

The gravity turned into a teary chuckle, and you buried your face into his shirt. Hyunjin had just enough time to notice the flush on your cheeks. “God, Hyunjin… you know… I really said some bad words, didn’t I? I kicked him in the balls. Many times! My mother would kill me—that was so unladylike…”

Hyunjin’s chest swelled up with pride and he held you closer. It felt strange to have you so close, to smell the sweet scent of you, to feel your body against his, and yet feel so detached. He knew it was the laudanum. If it weren’t for it, Hyunjin would be ablaze right now. And he sort of wished he wasn’t under the effects of the medicine so that he could feel about you as he always did, which was to say, rather ardently, and nothing else.

“I’m proud of you. You defended yourself. It was… Surprising. I’m certain he did not expect that you would fight back.” Hyunjin smoothed your hair and gave the top of your head a little kiss. You tensed up, grabbing at his shirt as though you were freefalling. “Where is he, now?”

“Lord Jungkook and Lord Christopher themselves went with the constables. He’ll be kept in custody for a day or two, we think.” You trailed your fingertip below his neck, then around his ear, then caressed his cheek gently. Hyunjin had never been as close to you as this. He had never touched or been touched by you like this. He was high, and he knew it. “Jungkook said he would make arrangements so that Yun leaves the country and never comes back.”

Hyunjin was too weak to be fully enraged, but he groaned, displeased. “I don’t need him to make such arrangements—I can take care of it. I’ll pay for Yun’s silence myself, I—”

You put an end to Hyunjin’s speech by pressing your finger onto his lips. “Hyunjin. Be reasonable. He’s not doing this to outdo you. You know, he looked legitimately scared when you lost consciousness.” You hesitated then. “He does care, I think, in his own way. In a way that you cannot see.” You paused, pulling away from him a little. When you spoke again, your voice was very low, as though you wanted to make sure nobody heard you even if they were standing an inch away. “He told me, Hyunjin. He told me about him, and you, and your father. And Mr. Kim…” 

Hyunjin’s heart leapt in his chest. Those were things he had rarely discussed with anybody, and certainly not in a long, long time. He had spoken with Chris and Changbin about this matter, of course—they needed to be aware of it, of this liability. 

“Mr. Kim denies any involvement in the Yun matter tonight,” you went on. “Honestly, Jungkook gave him one hell of a scolding… Even if he isn’t the eldest!” 

“He is a lot more important though,” Hyunjin pointed out. “Taehyung had to work hard to get where he is. I think it broke his soul.” Hyunjin, too, often felt like his soul had been broken. But he had you. Your letters had been the twine keeping him together all these years. If it weren’t for you, he would have turned out worse than Taehyung. “Taehyung’s a prick, Jungkook knows it.” Could he be redeemed? Or would he keep drowning in his own poison and keep spreading the same poison around him? 

There was a long silence following that. You seemed comfortable, relaxed. As time passed though, the effects of the medicine were wearing off a little, and Hyunjin could feel the pain in his thigh more and more. He looked at you instead, while he could. Before the candles all melted and the room became dark. He looked at your closed eyes, your mouth, your hair falling in your face… Were you asleep? 

You weren’t. “Why didn’t you tell me about them? Your brothers, your sister?” You opened your eyes again. 

Truth be told, Hyunjin was relieved that you knew now, like a weight had been lifted. “It’s not the sort of thing you can just say. It’s dangerous. The fewer people know, the better.” That was the truth, but it wasn’t all of it, and something inside Hyunjin made him want to be nothing but brutally honest with you for the rest of his life. There had been a moment there, in the garden, where he thought he might be losing you forever. When you had screamed… That shriek, coated with terror. It would haunt him. “I was ashamed. I am ashamed.”

You frowned, tilting your head to really look at him deep in the eyes. “Ashamed?”

“I always wanted a brother. When I was little,” Hyunjin explained. “My mother gave birth to many stillborns… I was the only one who made it. I was her treasure, but my childhood was very lonely.”

“I can imagine.” You touched his hair again, and it calmed Hyunjin—it always made him jittery to talk about his childhood. “Have you known for a long time what he was to you?”

“He told me once. I visited here, with Mother, in secret. He told me he was my brother but I didn’t believe him, or maybe I did. Later, we went to the same school, and he annoyed the fuck out of me.” There were very few happy memories in Hyunjin’s past, but he felt immense relief by talking about this with you. As though all that loneliness could be fixed if he shared it with you, and maybe it could—or maybe it was just the opium. “I knew by then that he was my father’s son. I hated him so much. He was good at everything. He made friends easily, he was funny, he had the best grades of his year. He was allowed to paint. I resented him because he had everything I didn’t have.”

When Hyunjin inhaled again, it felt as though the air filtered with ease through his lungs, like he could see more clearly, like everything made more sense. Perhaps he had never been meant to keep all of these secrets just for him. Perhaps he should have told you about this in his letters. 

You took his face in your hand again, making him look at you. “Do you hate Jungkook because of that, or because he is a physical, corporeal fragment of your father? A reminder of his mistakes?”

You were right. For a moment there, Hyunjin’s vision was blurred, and it took him a few seconds to understand that his eyes were full of tears. You thumbed them off when they rolled onto his cheeks, and held him in your arms, carefully, gently. Hyunjin closed his eyes and listened to your heartbeat. It was more beautiful than any music he had ever heard. You were right. You were right about everything. Hyunjin’s heart was too cold and too dark and too ugly to see life the way you did. But you weren’t like that. You were soft-hearted. You were good. 

“Let him be more than that, perhaps?” you whispered into Hyunjin’s ear. “Let Jungkook be the brother he wants to be for you. You never know, maybe he’s craving it the way you too were craving that brotherhood?” 

Hyunjin knew he was in no state to make any decisions or to think rationally, but he knew that everything you said made sense. And he found you so brave for that—he found you brave for being capable of love despite everything. Despite how ugly this world was. 

Despite all of the ways he, Hyunjin, had failed you.

“I wish you would have told me sooner. So that I could have been there for you,” you said.

Hyunjin took a deep breath. His eyes stung from the tears, but at least they had stopped running. “I was afraid you’d want to marry him instead if you found out,” he admitted, blushing violently. 

You let out a faint chuckle, but it was barely amused. Your hand found his face again. Your other hand found his chest, his heartbeat. He wanted to do the same thing. He wanted to feel your beautiful heartbeat underneath his fingertips, pouring life into him.

“Hyunjin, I’ve wanted to be your wife since the moment I knew you existed. And then, later, when I really understood what it meant—to be a woman, a wife, your wife—I wanted it even more. It’s like a force was always pulling me toward you, something I could not escape, something I would never want to escape anyway. Don’t you know what I mean? Don’t you feel it too?”

He did. He had felt that connection from the moment your name was mentioned to him. He did not know what the word betrothed meant, but from then on, your name was associated with joy. With something soft, like flowers swaying under a breeze. 

“I feel it.” He pressed your hand closer to his chest, as though to make sure that you felt it in him. “I’ve always felt it.” 

You smiled a true smile. Hyunjin wanted to kiss that smile. Instead, he smiled back. He felt tonight a way he had never felt before. Hopeful. Hopeful, but he didn’t even know for what.

You invited him to sleep again, urging that he needed to rest. But Hyunjin didn’t want to rest, no matter how heavy his eyelids felt. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this new feeling inside him, not if he weren’t sure he would also feel it in his sleep.

You caressed the skin around his eyes until he did close them, though, humming gently. “Sing for me? Please?” He often thought about it, about your voice, that night, in the kitchen. The smell of honeyed milk filling the room. The taste of it on his tongue. Maybe if you sang him to sleep, his hope would follow him in his dreams, and for once, he would wake up as something other than a miserable, broken man.

Your humming came to a stop as you were thinking about it. And then, you sang for him, simply, just like that. Just for him, your voice prettier than a songbird’s. Hyunjin had heard this song before, in passing—but in your mouth, it made sense for the first time. Hyunjin wondered if he, too, would find purpose between your lips.

“If love were what the rose is,   And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes Green pleasure or grey grief ; If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf.

“If you were April's lady, And I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours And draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady And night were bright like day ; If you were April's lady, And I were lord in May.”

Hyunjin could feel himself drift to sleep, but he fought it—he would not miss one second of your sweet voice. Did you see the two of you in that song, too? Was that why it seemed to come so easy to you, as though you had kept those words in your heart, never far, always playing at the back of your head? 

“If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, Pluck out his flying-feather, And teach his feet a measure, And find his mouth a rein ; If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain.”

King of pain. This was what he had been this whole time—king of nothing but misery. He had dreamed about it when he was little. What it would be like to be the king, and make you his queen. He used to like the idea of it, until he understood it really. 

But now, Hyunjin knew he didn’t need to rule over the country to be a king. He had you, his lady, his queen, his beekeeper, his darling wife. 

He was dangerously close to sleep. No, please, not yet. The song was over, but he needed to tell you. He needed you to know.

With his last breath before sleep took over him, Hyunjin offered you his biggest, deepest, most beautiful secret. 

“I love you, darling.”

And for the second time that night, the world faded to black.

Hyunjin had never been as relieved as he was today to see the manor from a distance. It was a sunny, breezy day, and you had left the small window of the carriage open to feel the fresh air. He spoke little during the journey, content to be leaving Jeon domain, although he left it with his heart a little more peaceful than when he arrived. 

Instead, he had listened to your and Changbin’s conversation. As the carriage passed through different areas, he told you all about them and the occupants that he knew. Sometimes, Hyunjin would interrupt him to clarify details, or you’d ask him a question. Sometimes, too, he would hold your hand, just because. 

The arrival was chaotic—it was as though the whole estate was waiting for the carriage, each person with a concerned look on their face. Jungkook had insisted on sending word to Hwang Estate about the events. To make sure that Dr. Lee will be there to meet you when you arrive and so that they can accommodate you. Hyunjin, reluctantly, had agreed—it was either that or Jungkook forced him to spend another day or two with him, at the Jeons’ place. It took yours and Changbin’s help to get him out of the carriage, but he was met with cheers and relieved sighs. Hyunjin used the cane that Jungkook had given him—a beautiful piece made from ebony and with a porcelain handle. My lord, you’re okay! Lady Hwang is safe and healthy, too! Changbin? Changbin?  

It took about two seconds before Ha-ri cut through the small crowd and found her husband. Changbin eagerly embraced his wife, looking a little pale, but more relieved than anyone here. Hyunjin promised himself he would not take Changbin with him on a trip for a good while, to make sure that he could spend as much time with his family as possible. 

Then, Ahnjong found you. “My lady, you must be exhausted. Come, let’s get you in a warm bath, you need to relax your muscles and your mind.” 

You squeezed your maid’s hand into yours. “Ahnjong, I’ll meet you later. I must stay with my husband.” Hyunjin could see behind Ahnjong that Seonghwa and Minho were coming his way. 

Hyunjin put a hand on your waist, silently requesting that you look at him. When you turned to him, your cheeks were pink. “I’ll be fine, darling,” he assured you. “You’ve taken care of me all night. Please go with Ahnjong.” To the maid, he added, “Make sure that she gets a good meal, too.”

You tried to argue, but Hyunjin could see how tired you were. He saw it in your eyes, heard it in your voice. While he was grateful that you had stayed by his side, he could not live with himself if you didn’t rest right this second. “I insist, darling.” He knew that the darling was overkill—but he knew that it would work. And it did. The pink on your cheeks turned to red, and you let Ahnjong drag you away.

“My lord.” Immediately, Minho offered him his arm. “I’ll have to take a look at your stitches. How’s the pain?” 

“Moderate.” In truth, Hyunjin had expected it to be worse. He walked with Minho and Seonghwa, a few feet behind you. You waved at him when you disappeared with Ahnjong, and Hyunjin’s heart fluttered at that. With his limp, it took him a good while to reach Minho’s office, despite the help offered to him. The walking cane was sturdy though, but he hoped he could easily reach upstairs as soon as he was done here. He wanted a bath, too. He wanted to be with you more. He knew he ought to be thinking about work, about the factory, hell, he ought to be thinking about Yun, too. But all that his mind could manage, for now, was to send him tender images of you soaking in hot water, your eyes closed, your traits relaxed. He should be in there with you. He would lather the suds all over your beautiful body and kiss your neck and your lips. 

“Is this going to take long?” Hyunjin asked as Minho let him into the room. “I’d very much like a bath myself.”

“Not long, my lord,” Minho assured. “But you’ll have to make sure that the wounded area does not go into the water.” 

With no surprise, Hyunjin found Cloud sitting on top of Minho’s desk. The kitten meowed loudly, and Seonghwa went to pick her up in an attempt to silence her with pets behind her ears, which seemed to be efficient for the time being. “I shall take her to your wife, my lord. I’m certain she can use the company.”

Hyunjin almost said no—he did not want Seonghwa, or any other man, anywhere near you while you were bathing naked. He took a deep breath, trying to chase away the images of your hand disappearing between your legs, laying in the bathtub like some goddess would. “Thank you, Mr. Park,” he said. “If you see that she—Cloud—is being loud again, please bring her back with Mr. Minho. I’d very much like it if my wife could sleep.”

With a chuckle and a dip of his head, Seonghwa left the office while Hyunjin sat on the consultation bed. Minho washed his hands and got to work immediately, rolling up the leg of Hyunjin’s pants and removing the bandage that had been done around the wound. For the first time, Hyunjin saw it—a couple of inches long, a clean cut, not too deep. 

“Ah, this isn’t too bad,” Minho observed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Although the stitches could have been done more… elegantly. Who did the procedure?” When Minho started applying the carbolic acid to the wound, Hyunjin inhaled through his teeth. The sting made him tense up, but quickly faded away.

“Dr. Choi was a guest of the evening, and he is the one who saw me,” Hyunjin explained. “Although I have no recollection of it, so if you’d like details, you’d have to ask Changbin. I got one bad hit on the head too, apparently.” 

The doctor chuckled at that. “Do you feel pain there, my lord? Your head?”

“Not really. It seems like most of the damage is external. That’s what my wife told me at least—apparently, there is a small bruise under my hair.” 

“I see.” Minho finished cleaning up the stitched wound and applied a fresh bandage on it. “How is Lady Hwang, my lord? Was she harmed in the confrontation?” 

Hyunjin liked the sound of that so much that every time he heard it, his head spun a little. Would he ever get used to it? To you being Lady Hwang—his Lady Hwang? “Not physically, no. In fact, I’ll even admit—in the privacy of this medical space—that she beat Yun’s ass, and it made me quite proud.”

The chuckle became a heartfelt laughter. Minho had to take a few steps back and put his tools back on the working table while he calmed down. Hyunjin laughed with him, which surprised him. How easy it was to laugh now, to smile. It wasn’t that all the hurt and the pain and the misery weren’t there anymore—but there was so much more than that. 

“Your wife sure is one hell of a lady, my lord,” Minho said politely but with a grin.

Hyunjin pushed himself up, gathering his walking cane again. He frowned, staring at the doctor while he was washing his hands again. “What else did the messenger say? The one sent by Lord Jeon?” 

Minho dried his hands before turning to Hyunjin again. “Nothing else, my lord. Only that something had happened with Yun, involving you and Lady Hwang, and that you were injured.” 

Hyunjin nodded, taking a few slow steps toward Minho. “You didn’t ask me about him, Doctor. About Mr. Su-jin.” 

A veil of worry passed over Minho’s gaze. “Was he injured as well? I—”

Hyunjin raised a hand, waving it dismissively. “He is in perfect health. I’m rather pleased to tell you today that my wife managed to snatch him from the Jeons—he and his family will be moving in town in a matter of weeks.” 

Minho’s mouth fell open. “W—What? I—”

Hyunjin shook his head. “I apologize for interfering in your personal life. I believe that she and Lady Jeon were unhappy with the way things had gone with you, and him, and Kim. And considering all the other wrongdoings from Kim…” Hyunjin let his sentence trail into nothing, knowing that he didn’t need to explain everything to Minho. He knew the full extent of the story, as Minho had been very honest with him when Hyunjin had offered him a job. 

You had said this to Hyunjin—that true love had the right to simply happen. He had thought long and hard about the consequences of a love being drowned in pain, in misery, in shame. He had wondered, also, if Lady Jeon had perhaps loved his father and had been as hurt as his mother, as him, when his true colors had been discovered. 

“T—Thank you, my lord,” Minho uttered, bowing deeply. “I can’t—”

“Don’t thank me. Just thank my wife, perhaps.” Hyunjin smiled again. “Thank you for dressing my wound, Doctor. Should I come back later tonight?”

“Tonight, and again tomorrow, my lord.” Minho seemed profoundly moved, a little unfocused, but grateful. “Thank you. Thank you.” 

When Hyunjin left the doctor’s office, he found that Cloud was waiting outside the door. She snuck between his legs to get in, and he heard Minho speak to her softly behind her. Why aren’t you with your master? I’m afraid Lady Hwang will resent me if you keep hanging out here. Hyunjin closed the door behind him, knowing that you loved the kitten very much, but that Minho might need her company a little more at the moment.

It took him a long time to make his way to the staircase. Although the walking cane was sturdy, his leg was sore and every single person he ran into stopped him to wish him well and to offer their help. Hyunjin thanked them, but he felt compelled to go upstairs immediately. He thought about what you had told him—the bond between you two, this force pulling you to one another. Whatever it was, it sang to him today, begged him to make his way to you.

It took him an even longer time to reach upstairs, but he did. At this hour, the second floor was quiet as the staff would be having their lunch with tea. Hyunjin was not hungry—he had eaten a large breakfast, with Jungkook, before he left. Sitting on the bench their mothers had sat on all those years ago. Talking about their childhood. Hyunjin told him about his father a little, but he did not have much to say. Or rather, he figured that Jungkook didn't need to know everything. Didn't need to know how much of a monster his true father was.

Hyunjin finally reached his bedroom, finding it full of sunlight, the curtains pulled open. 

Finding you there, too. 

You were freshly out of the bath with your hair still damp, a sweet clean smell floating in the room. You were finishing up a bowl of soup and a glass of water with lemon juice, sitting at the table by the window. Sunlight caressed your hair and Hyunjin envied it. The sun.

You stood, smoothing the fabric of the shirt you are wearing. His shirt, and nothing else. Sunlight filtered through the linen, letting Hyunjin see the outline of your body. He followed it with his eyes, the curves of your hips, your tits, your waist. Below, your legs, bare, smooth, perfect. If it hadn’t been for the cane, Hyunjin might have fallen to the ground. Your thighs beckoned him, soft, full, pretty. He wanted to make a home out of them, out of you. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, walking around the table to join him. “What did Dr. Lee say?” 

It took Hyunjin several seconds before he could speak again. “Oh. He said I’ll be alright.” He wanted to tell you about how grateful Minho seemed when he learned about Su-jin’s imminent arrival, but Hyunjin didn’t have it in him. It was difficult to hold a coherent thought with you around. For sure, he was no longer under the effect of opium, because he felt every single square inch of his body today. It felt like he was on fire, like he was soaring. 

“Good.” You took his hand, and Hyunjin felt it all the way to his crotch. Was that your nipples? Yes, it was. Good fucking God, it really was. “I made sure Changbin stayed with Ha-ri and the girls all day, and I asked Seonghwa to take care of everything.” There might have been too little blood reaching his brain currently, because Hyunjin wasn’t certain what everything entailed exactly. Surely, there would be some damage control to do after the scene at the Jeons… but it didn’t matter, did it? Not to him, at least. “Would you like a bath, Hyunjin?” 

Yes, yes he would very much. For a few seconds there, Hyunjin felt like they just injected him laudanum again with how slowly time was passing. You walked away and disappeared into the lavatory, from which he soon heard running water. But all he could think of was your legs and how graceful they were. How beautiful you looked, and how nice you smelled. 

“You coming?” Your voice startled him but snapped him back to reality. Hyunjin cleared his throat and went after you. Already, the lavatory was warm and steamy as the tub was being filled with warm water. 

He stood there, awkwardly. For an instant, he expected you to leave the room. And it looked like you thought about it too. It was what you would have done before. You would have been wearing more clothes too, before, covering you better. Something had changed, hadn’t it? 

You stayed.

You added a few drops of oil into the water, regularly testing the temperature. When it was to your liking, you stopped the water and turned to him, standing in front of him. You reached for him, taking the cane from his hand and leaving it against the wall. 

And then you reached for the top button of his shirt and undid it. And then the second, and the third. You undressed him carefully. Slowly, unhurriedly. The shirt fell to the floor silently and, without a word, you undid the buttons of his trousers. This, too, Hyunjin felt in his crotch, but the feeling didn’t go away this time, it stayed there, the pressure in his cock leisurely increasing with each passing second. He took a deep breath when you pulled his pants down, closing his eyes. “I can do it,” he started, suddenly very shy about being naked in front of you. He grabbed his pants for you, but you removed his hands from the piece of clothing, insisting.

He heard you wet your mouth with a few swipes of your tongue before you spoke. “Let me do it. Please? Let me take care of you.” You paused while you took the pants off, pulling them past his ankles and feet. “You risked your life for me, Hyunjin.” 

He had. But that was nothing to him. His life was nothing to him compared to yours, and he would do it again and again if he had to. He remained quiet though, tensing up at the sensation of your warm fingers on the waistband of his underpants. He opened his eyes again, looking down at you. You kept your eyes on his as you finished undressing him. The warm air did very little to soothe the tingling in his cock, which was very visibly getting hard right before you.

For you.

You noticed. Hyunjin saw your gaze flicking down, then back on him. Your eyes shone like silk under a flame. You did not pretend that you hadn’t seen, and Hyunjin respected you even more for it.

You helped him into the bath, making sure he didn’t lose his balance, and then helping him prop his leg up so that it didn’t touch the water. Again, Hyunjin almost thought you would leave now, but you didn’t. Instead, you kneeled next to the tub, and, gently, pulled his head down to soak his hair. 

You washed his locks with gentle hands, massaging his scalp so languidly that Hyunjin almost fell asleep, almost came, too. You ran your fingers through it, rinsing the soap off his hair with no hurry, then wringing it dry, not speaking a single word. You didn’t need to, and neither did he. God, you were so beautiful, and your hands were magical. You applied some of your hair oil into his—he recognized your jasmine oil. When you were done, you tied his hair in a loose braid, using a simple crimson ribbon to hold it.

And then, you washed him.

Hyunjin was past modesty or shame or timidity. He understood that you weren’t simply bathing him, this was a lot more than just a bath. He had been scared to lose you—perhaps had you feared the same, too, and were looking for a way to let your gratitude show. He certainly was, although he didn’t know how he could ever repay the greatest gift life had ever given him, which was you.

You washed him, starting with his face, to which you gave a thorough shave. Hyunjin could hardly believe that it was only yesterday morning that you shaved him for the first time. He closed his eyes, suddenly struck with the memory of it, of the visible disappointment on your face. You spoke at that moment, though, once you were done wiping the shaving suds off his skin, you hummed in approval. “So handsome,” you said. “Everybody said so yesterday.” Did they? Did they really? 

You washed his shoulders, his neck, his chest. Hyunjin could feel you feeling him, and he liked it. He liked the way you palmed him all over, feeling his arms, his abdomen, soaking and washing and rinsing and massaging. He liked that you seemed to like it, too.

Time had passed and the water had cooled a little, and yet Hyunjin’s skin was heating up, warmth pooling at his core, blood rushing to his fully hard cock. 

He was ashamed now, at least a little. He blushed, but you blushed too, and it made you more beautiful somehow. You kept on washing him, using clean water to rinse the soap. He watched you, your purposeful motions, your glances either at his face or his cock. Often his cock. He did not shy away from his glances either, whether it was to stare at the way your tits moved under the fabric of his shirt, or the glimpses he could get at your ass, sometimes. Your body. His pretty wife’s body. 

The smell of the oil in his hair was strong, but the scent of your pussy was stronger. You liked it, too. You liked that he was hard, and it got to Hyunjin’s head. His cock twitched when he watched you lather more soap onto your palm and you brought it closer to his cock. You shot him a glance, and he read your question in your eyes. You didn’t need to speak to understand each other, and he liked that, too.

Hyunjin nodded and it felt like giving you permission to unmake him. 

You loosely wrapped your hand around his cock and Hyunjin almost came from that alone. From the beauty of it, your fingers on him, cleansing him. You washed him well, expertly, lovingly. His length, his slit, his balls. Each stroke, each motion sent him closer to heaven. Or to hell, maybe, he could not say. 

You gave his body a last thorough rinse. When you were done, you returned to his face, trailing your thumb on his cheek, lingering on his lips. Your eyes were glazed over. You were prettier than a summer day. “Let’s get you in bed,” you whispered. 

You helped him out of the tub but Hyunjin was on fire, drowning in the ocean of lust that you had submerged him in. He almost came, again, when you got on your knees to dry him off. His thighs—avoiding his wound—, his shins, his feet. Every single one of his toes. “You have nice feet,” you said, and Hyunjin wanted to say, You too, but he couldn’t. His voice was lost. 

Your face was dangerously close to his cock, just inches away. If he moved even just a little, his tip would rub on your cheek. How smooth that would be. He just knew it. You used fresh linen to dry him there, too, wrapping his erection in it and squeezing gently to remove the water. When you were done, you discarded the cloth to grab a clean one and dry his stomach area with it, but Hyunin could see your tits from here, from the collar of his shirt. You didn’t button it all the way up, and he could see them, your smooth skin there, your breasts, supple and perfect.

He was so hard that it hurt him. So hard that he was leaking. A drop of precum landed on your thigh, rolling on your skin, disappearing somewhere down your knee. If you had noticed, you did not let it show, standing to dry off his neck and his chest. Hyunjin almost kissed you then, and for a second, he saw himself do it, like an out-of-body experience. 

Instead, he let you guide him back into the sunlight-filled bedroom and into his bed. The sheets seemed to be freshly changed and he welcomed the familiar feeling of them on his skin. You helped his bad leg onto the mattress and it did hurt him a little but not more than his cock did, straining into nothing, painfully hard, flushed dark. 

He took your hand in his, his thumb caressing you. “Sleep with me, darling?” 

You blushed like a glass of red wine spilled on a fine silk tablecloth. Uncontrollably, beautifully. If he had more strength, he would sit at his easel and mix this exact color to paint it all over a canvas, just so that he would never forget it. 

You smiled just for a second. “I like it when you say that.” It looked like you regretted saying that the second the words spilled from your lips, and yet you seemed relieved at the same time. 

And he liked the feeling of it in his mouth, too. “My darling,” he repeated, pulling you into bed with him. He liked it a little too much.

You were not indisposed by his nakedness—you did not hesitate to lay with him, pressing yourself against his body, and Hyunjin kept you there for a while, staring at you, seeing your tits even better in this light. The shirt had pulled down a little, and he kissed you on your bare shoulder. Then, your jaw. And it was scary to do it but not really. It was natural to kiss you there, and then, your neck. Familiar, like returning after a long journey, except the journey had been a lifetime of suffering and you were his home, or his salvation. Maybe you were both.

You sighed when his wet lips left more and more kisses on your skin. “Hyunin. Honey.” He heard that word in your mouth many times before, but not like that. It was even sweeter like that, when you meant it for him. But you were frowning, your lips parted open, ready to speak, unsure.

“What is it?” God, you were so beautiful. Did you even know? Did you know how sweet your pussy smelled? How soft your skin was? He pulled you even closer, pressing your warm cunt flush with his straining cock. 

You averted your gaze, staring at the beauty mark on his shoulder. “Do you remember last night at all?” You couldn’t look him in the eyes. Did he remember last night? Yes, yes of course, how could he not? Last night had been one of the worst nights in his whole life, all that because of one minute during which he thought he had lost you forever. 

“Of course I remember, darling. Why? What’s wrong?” If Hyunjin could take all the pain of the world away from you, he would. Did you know that, too?

You did not give him a response yet. Gently, Hyunjin put his finger under your chin, pulling your face up to look him in the eyes, but there were tears in yours. They trembled like autumn leaves, threatening to spill. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

It took him a few seconds to remember. He hadn’t forgotten per se—his memories were all there, just in the wrong order. But he remembered the song you sang to him, and he knew exactly what you were referring to. Hyunjin waited until panic took over him but it never did. He felt strangely at peace with it, in a way he had never seen coming. “Yes, I remember. Why?” Had you changed your mind, perhaps? Did you want to retract your confession?

He could understand that. He had failed you in so many ways, and perhaps were you afraid that he would keep doing so.

You responded immediately, not letting his mind wander too far, words spilling out of you as though you were afraid to lose them, or to lose the courage to speak them. “Did you really mean it? What you said? It’s alright if you didn’t—it’s alright if it was the whiskey, or the painkillers, or—”

It had been none of that. They could have injected him with nothing at all and it would not have made a difference—he could see that now. Loving you was the easiest thing Hyunjin had ever done. When he said the words again, they tasted sweet, sweet, sweet, like your honey. “I meant it, darling. I love you.”

Hyunjin saw the shock on you, in your eyes first, then moving down to your lips, making them tremble again. He couldn’t wait anymore, so he kissed you. 

You kissed him back, lips wet and parted and hungry, no longer shaking, but devouring. Hyunjin kissed you for all the times he hadn’t kissed you. Hyunjin kissed you deep, with tongue, moaning when you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mouth was smooth and wet, just like he remembered. But it was better because he was not drunk, and he felt you, really just you. 

He needed you closer. This was not close enough. The shirt you were wearing was too thick. Hyunjin would not stop until your soul had fused with his. He pulled you on top of him and you straddled him, your pussy right there, so close to him, to his cock.

You caressed his torso, straightening your back. The weight of your body on top of his was nothing short of a divine revelation—you belonged with him. And he belonged to you. “Honey,” you moaned, lowering yourself to kiss him again. “Hyunjin.” 

You moved on top of him. You rolled your hips, rubbing your sweet, wet cunt all over his cock. And you were so wet that he could feel it drip all over him, sticking to his skin. He groaned when you rubbed yourself harder on him. “I love you too Hyunjin,” you panted. Your damp hair tickled his chest. “I love you.” 

It made him smile to hear you say it now, with your sweet virgin cunt dripping all over his cock. You rolled your hips over and over, using him just like you had used that pillow. He loved seeing lust on your face. You looked like a wild animal, something feral, yet you moved so gracefully he wanted to cry. 

Your humping became desperate and Hyunjin pulled onto your shirt until all of the buttons had come undone, until he could see you, and your tits bouncing with you. The sight of your body was enough to drive a man insane. Hyunjin knew that he could never, ever live without that, without you. You looked like a goddess—you were a goddess. Each curve on your body sent wildfires through his veins. The soft skin on your tummy, your hips, your tits. He cupped them, squeezing them, eliciting a long, drawn-out moan out of you. 

Your cunt. Your cunt on his cock. Skin to skin, flesh to flesh. Your pussylips hugging his flushed length, sliding easily up and down his erection. 

You kept grinding, whining, needy. Hyunjin had never felt like this. Desired. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you, did you? It was driving him insane, the way you were so desperate, seeking friction, and how smooth and wet your pussy was on him. His pretty virgin wife. His beautiful slut. 

He pulled you in for a kiss again, moving against you, squeezing your nipples, massaging your ass. “You’re so good to me,” he murmured against your lips. “Let me make you feel good, darling. Let me.” Hyunjin was so hard he was just about ready to blow, but this was not what mattered to him in that moment.

“Hyunjin—”

He shook his head. “I need you on my tongue, darling.” He kissed you again, biting gently at your lip, his tongue caressing yours so that you could understand that he truly did need it.

You quietly came to a stop, leaving one kiss on his cheek before sliding off him. 

Hyunjin felt like he had been born for this moment. Like every tiny bit of oxygen he had ever breathed had led him to this, to you. He had been a fool to think he could ever resist you, your beauty, the softness of your skin. He had been an even bigger fool to try resisting you at all. As though his sacrifice would redeem any anguish that his name brought. As though he couldn’t find light and peace and deliverance in your body.

Hyunjin helped you get comfortable on the bed, adjusting the pillow underneath you, kissing you over and over. Your lips, your neck, your tits—lingering there a little to really swirl his tongue all over them, leaving a trail of spit behind him. Hyunjin often looked up to you, just to see the anticipation in your eyes, which he could only assume was an accurate reflection of his.

Hyunjin lay on his stomach, propping himself on one elbow in between your legs, kissing your stomach, your waist, almost like he could kiss his love into you, and maybe he could. 

He left kisses all over you, your mound, your thighs. Your pussy. So pretty, so smooth, so beautiful—just like you. You were glistening. Soaked. And Hyunjin had never seen anything as inviting as that. He ran his fingers over your folds and the wet sounds it made were lewd. Erotic enough to send a man to the mental asylum. You were flushed down there, pink, ready for him.

He had been wanting this for so long.

Carefully—really carefully—Hyunjin parted you open with his fingers. You gasped under his touch and he gasped, too, at the feeling of your cunt under his fingertips. You were so warm, so supple, and your scent became stronger when he touched you there. “Oh…” By God, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. How could you even exist? How could you be all these things?

What had he done to deserve this miracle? To deserve you?

Tears welled up in his eyes when, slowly, Hyunjin brought his face closer to your intimacy and first lapped at you. He swallowed you, your taste taking up residency in him, his cock straining into the mattress, throbbing, his whole body overtaken with bliss. You whimpered, the back of your head sinking into your pillow, your nipples poking, your skin covered in goosebumps. 

Hyunjin unleashed himself on you. He needed to taste you more. He needed to hear your voice over and over, he needed to feel you under him, his tongue. He laid his tongue flat on your folds, pushing it into you, giving languid swipes of his tongue, teasing your hole with it, threatening to fuck your virgin cunt with it. Your hand found him, his hair, and you held him as though you were afraid to fall. “It’s okay baby, I got you,” he said under his voice, kissing your pussy. “Hold on tight.” He liked the way it felt when you tugged at his hair, liked the sting it elicited because he felt it both on his head and in his cock. 

“Honey,” you moaned, and Hyunjin almost came. “Fuck…” You bucked your hips under him, rubbing yourself onto his face, hungry for more, keeping him right there with a fist into his braided hair. 

A miracle. 

Hyunjin parted your pussylips again, careful, always, and he swirled his tongue all over your wetness, tasting you. You tasted sweet. You tasted like ripe peaches, like warm honey, like baked figs sprinkled with sea salt, just the way he liked them. And yet nothing had ever tasted as good as your cunt. 

He savored you for a minute or a million, losing himself in you, bobbing his head to lick and lap and devour you whole. Your juices ran all over his chin and down his chest and Hyunjin wore them with pride. With simple delight.

His cock twitched every time he ran his tongue over your hole. He tilted his head, his forehead pressed into your thigh, invading your cunt with his tongue, penetrating you with it. 

Fucking you with it. His cock-hungry virgin wife. 

As deep as he could, Hyunjin pushed his tongue into your tight cunt. You soaked him all over in a matter of seconds, filling the room with your pretty staccato moans. Let the whole world hear you if it wanted—you were his. His wife. His darling. That pussy was his and his only to taste, to pleasure, to devote himself to. He existed to serve you, nothing else.

Hyunjin swallowed everything you gave him. “My wife with the pretty pussy,” he whispered into your cunt, almost inaudibly. “Taste so good. You like that?” He caressed your pussy, smearing his spit and your juices all over your already soaked folds. “You’re so wet… my darling…” He did not make sense but he didn’t need to. There was only one thing that made sense anymore—that had ever made sense—and it was you. 

“Love you so much baby,” he breathed between your legs, “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

You felt so good, fucking yourself onto his face like that. You were so beautiful, moaning, panting, your red face, your messy hair, your uneven breathing. Your hands grasping at the sheets. And sometimes your hands pulling him into your cunt, keeping him there. “Hyunjin,” you sighed prettily when he latched himself onto your clit. 

You were so wet, so fucking creamy. A small puddle had spread under you. Your essence was sticking to his face, and he hoped your scent would linger on his skin for days. He wouldn’t let any maid change those sheets for a while either. He had wanted this for so long. 

Hyunjin pushed one finger into your hole, swirling his tongue on your clit, watching you react to him. He didn’t let the finger go any deeper than the first knuckle, not for now at least, but he felt you. He massaged your entrance, soon adding a second finger, basking in the feeling of it. Your swollen, soaked, virginal pussy. 

You clenched around him, constantly seeking to take more of his fingers. “Hyunjin,” you pleaded, desperate, your voice shaking. “Please…” Hyunjin licked you again and again, sucking onto your clit, rubbing himself on the mattress as though time was running out. 

If you wanted to cum, he would make you cum. If you wanted him to keep eating your pussy for an hour, or a day, or a week, he would also do it. He was the slave and you were the master, and he would obey you for as long as you let him. 

Hyunjin savored you, taking his time with his lapping, really feeling your clit under his tongue, relying on your moans and the way you clenched around his fingers to guide him. He slurped on you. Your honey. He fucked you with his whole mouth. You throbbed often, your pleasure threatening to spill over the edge. Hyunjin was so painfully sober that he could see and feel and smell every little detail of this moment. He would cherish it until the day he died, and even after. The heaven of your cunt would follow him in the afterlife. 

You tensed up, hips stuttering, your moans becoming louder and louder, longer too. The pressure rose within him, too, and he kept on flicking his tongue onto your clit, sometimes giving it a thorough suck. 

You came, arching into his mouth, and Hyunjin saw god.

Your pussy was the only thing he worshiped anyway. You came hard, melting into the mattress. You came in waves of pleasure, writhing under him, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your eyes rolling at the back of your head, your cunt pulsing to the same rhythm as your moans. You came so hard, so gently, so prettily. His wife, his love. Hyunjin stayed between your legs, his face anchored into your heat, not ever giving up on his ministrations, lapping at your cream like he was dying of thirst. Your orgasm was more beautiful than a symphony. In fact, Hyunjin had never seen anything as beautiful as that. Your glazed-over eyes, pink cheeks, your hair sticking to your temples, the way your tits bounced with you when you moved. The pretty, sweet cream on your flushed cunt, still pulsing with aftershocks.

Even after you’ve calmed down, Hyunjin stayed. He left little kisses on your pussy to soothe it. You were warm and sensitive, and when you breathed, your exhales finished in soft, pleased sighs. He would never ever get used to this. He could never leave this bed and make you cum over and over and he would never ever have enough of it.

Without a word, you pulled him up for a kiss. “Taste yourself on me,” Hyunjin whispered between kisses, and you did, chasing your sweetness in his mouth. He stayed there, putting his weight on his good leg, holding you from underneath. He never wanted to let go.

You pulled him closer, closing your legs around his waist, causing his cock to rub on your pussy. You moaned, but he whimpered—both in fear and desire, lost in pleasure, lost in the taste of your pussy. 

You kissed him softly this time, reaching between your two bodies. “It’s okay,” you said, “you don’t have to put it inside me.” 

You caressed your cunt, flush with his cock, coating your fingers, smearing your cream all over his cock. Hyunjin buried his face into your neck, ready to die. He could feel it. He could feel your warmth and your wetness on his cock. 

You took him in your hand, and instead of guiding him between your legs, you tugged at his cock until it rested atop your lower abdomen. Hyunjin stared at the scene, looking at the way your cream adorned him. It was beautiful. 

You squeezed him, and Hyunjin’s leg almost gave out. “Shhh,” you cooed, stroking him at a steady pace. Hyunjin thrust into you, fucking your hand, your stomach, eyes rolling at the back of his head. There was so much pressure in his cock that it hurt him, the ache spreading all the way to his tight balls, his ass, his lower abdomen. 

“D—Darling,” he stammered, unable to control himself, fucking your hand just the way he wanted to fuck your pretty creamy cunt. Would he do that, someday? Would he fuck you into a sloppy mess? If he did so, he would treat you well. He would kiss you a lot. He would lick your pussy until you were soothed and clean. 

Your motions came to a stop abruptly, and Hyunjin managed to stop with you. Did you want to stop? Did you— “Can you cum in my mouth?” you asked into his ear. “Like I came in yours?” 

Hyunjin felt a rush of heat go through him like lightning. He kissed you with his mouth open, flipping you over him, trading places with you. His ass rested in the puddle of your cum on the sheet, and he liked it. 

You made yourself comfortable, leaning on his side, taking his cock into your hand again, palming him, squeezing him, rubbing him good. “It’s so big,” you murmured, bringing your face very close. Hyunjin watched as you left a kiss on his tip, then pressed your tongue on his slit. Wet and warm and smooth. You moaned, the vibrations of your voice echoing into him. “You taste nice…” 

He was about to cum. Could you tell? You looked gorgeous in the sunlight, and the room smelled like your cunt. 

You parted your lips open, taking his tip into your warm mouth, looking him directly in the eyes. When you managed to take even more of him, it brought tears to your eyes, and Hyunjin knew he was done for. 

The pressure became so strong that his hips stuttered, his cock disappearing some more between your swollen lips. You did not let go of him, squeezing him, rubbing his cock, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth. You looked like a fallen angel, a corrupted one. Your mouth was wet, pillowy, perfect, and nothing had ever felt as good as this. You sucked him gently, almost shyly, pressing your tongue right under him, driving him crazy. You moved your head faintly to take more of him, your tongue swirling on his length, making lewd slurping sounds as you worked him.

You gagged on his cock, and it made Hyunjin cum. He lost his vision temporarily as his high took over him, flooding his entire soul with pleasure the same way he was flooding your pretty mouth with his cum. He could not stop cumming, convulsing on the bed. Dying but being reborn again. Nothing else existed. Your taste on his tongue, his cock hitting the roof of your mouth, your lips locked around him.

When you released him, your eyes were full of tears but you swallowed him. If Hyunjin hadn’t been in love with you already, he would have fallen at that moment. Or maybe the moment he kissed your pussy. Or maybe he kept falling in love with you over and over, every second. When you laughed, when you danced, when you worked around your beehive, when you kissed him. When you cried, when you were afraid, when you came on his mouth. Maybe he would keep falling in love with you like that, every minute of every day. 

And Hyunjin could not have been happier about it. 

It was his turn to pull you in for a kiss. It seemed to surprise you but you kissed him back and he savored it, your taste and his laced together in your mouth, better than any whiskey or opium. 

You collapsed by his side, panting, your lips pink and raw and swollen. He wrapped an arm around you and you passed one leg over his thighs, the two of you naked and unafraid in his bed. Hyunjin liked the feeling of it. Of laying in a cum-stained bed, a bed that smelled like sex—the sex he had with you. His wet cock softening on his stomach, your breathing on his skin. 

Unafraid but not unwary. Hyunjin knew this was dangerous. He knew there were about a million ways he could hurt or disappoint you.

But he also knew that life had no meaning without you. He also knew that he wanted to keep trying to become a man that could deserve you. Perhaps he could learn kindness from you, with the way you gently caressed your bees almost like they were puppies, or the way you were so patient and good with Cloud, or the way you spoke to not just your equals, but the maids, the stable boys, the trading merchants visiting the estate to sell their wares. 

Perhaps Hyunjin was just pussy drunk, but you made him hope that he could unlearn sorrow if he stayed by your side. 

You kissed him on the corner of his mouth. There was some of your cum drying there, but he was in no hurry to clean up. “I hope I did okay,” you said coyly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “I never did that before… but I practiced.”

Hyunjin was still not completely recovered from his intense orgasm, and yet he turned to you sharply, frowning deeply.

When you looked at him again, you covered your mouth with your hand, concealing a shocked expression and an embarrassed laugh. “No, I mean… Not on people, I mean, on things… Thin bottles, or even my fingers…”

Hyunjin tried not to think too hard about it—you, locked away in your bedroom, training your mouth and your throat with whatever object you could find. Still, his softening cock twitched at the thought of it. “Why would you…” 

You clicked your tongue, nudging him before hiding your face again. “Why do you think? I wanted to do good by you.”

Hyunjin blushed at that, but kissed the top of your head. “You didn’t have to do that…” What else had you done? What sort of torture had you submitted yourself to, just for him?

You cupped his cheek, turning his face toward you to kiss his mouth. “I know, honey. But I’ve always been so happy with the prospect of becoming your wife.” 

He wrapped both his arms around you, keeping you as close as he could. His lack of sleep was becoming more obvious, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. You seemed to be having the same issue, but both of you were fighting it. 

Hyunjin thought about it. “I was afraid of becoming your husband,” he admitted, “and you know why. But it also made me immensely happy. And… And I would have been deeply upset if you had become someone else’s wife.”

You giggled again, playing with his hair. “You don’t have to worry about this, Hyunjin. I’m your wife. No one else’s.”

He adjusted himself under you, and you by his side, laying your head on his chest. “I’m your husband,” he replied. “And I love you.” 

You remained quiet for a few seconds. Hyunjin could swear he felt a drop of water roll over his skin. Were you crying? “And I love you,” you echoed, closing your fist on his torso, comfortable, at peace. You paused for a few seconds. “You know, the thing you told me yesterday. About the glass vial, and that it broke.” 

Although his memories were still blurry, Hyunjin recalled that very well. “Yes?” He trailed his on your bare skin, your back, your waist, your thigh. You were the most beautiful canvas and he wanted to paint his love all over you. 

“You said you were doing the same thing to me,” you went on. “I just want you to know that you’re wrong. You’re not.” You kissed him where your mouth could, somewhere below his neck. “I’m not shattering, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” 

Hyunjin did not know what to say to that, but he knew there was nothing else to add anyway. He didn’t need to say anything, because your soul and his were intertwined, humming at the same frequency, devoted to one another. 

Instead, he held you closer, and you both fell asleep to the feeling of each other and this hope that you had allowed into your hearts. 

... to be continued.

a/n: Hello everyone! 🤍 I wanted to say thank you for your patience regarding my posting schedule. I know I don’t post often and I disappear and throw huge chapters at you etc… but I truly appreciate the kind words you guys leave me, and the support. So, thank you! Thank you for supporting me & my silly little fics. This chapter wasn’t necessarily easy to write, and I’m sorry if it’s not as good as the rest, but I did my best. Thank you, and have a nice day! x

permanent taglist: @abiaswreck ; @accalus ; @aimeexx ; @binstitsweat ; @casualtaelyn ; @cb97percent ; @changbinheart ; @changbinluvr ; @chans1aptop ; @chartrucewhore ; @djeniryuu ; @dwaekkiracha ; @fwess ; @hanjingin ; @hwan-g ; @hyuneyeon ; @hyunfruits ; @hyunjinsamdl ; @hyunjinswifeee ; @hyunniethepooh ; @hyunsungbased ; @hyuwunjinie ; @hyyuniverse ; @iam2out ; @inkybird ; @j-0ne25 ; @jollchacho ; @katsukis1wife ; @lilbabiebunni ; @leedunno ; @lotus-dly ; @miraworldsstuff ; @moasworld ; @neosracha ; @revehosh ; @skzfelixlove ; @straydhampir ; @straykids5star ; @suhomylife ; @sunlitwilderness ; @thestarseeker ; @ven-fic-recs ; @yourmercibeaucoupsblog

© straywrds - I do not allow any kind of the reposting, copying, translating of any of my works.

barbie is not y/n. Y/N IS THE BARBIE

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

netizens are desensitising gruesome things that are taking place in Palestine.

even the internet’s reaction to graphic things such as - pictures of injured children, civilians stuck under rubble, dead bodies of families in their destroyed homes etc. is beyond underwhelming.

DO NOT NORMALISE GENOCIDE.

BREAK THE STIGMA.

#save palestine

🚀 People trying to blame Iran for this measured and calculated “escalation” conveniently ignore the facts. The real question is why are the UK and US so quick to condemn Iran for its attacks tonight, but so unwilling to condemn the Israeli attack on Iran’s embassy in Syria?

Middle East Eye

Israel may cut off Palestinian banks from global banking system next week

The decision by Israel's finance minister to isolate PA banks would paralyse Palestinian economy

Palestinian banks could be cut off from the Israeli banking system starting next week following a decision by Israel’s finance minister to cease dealings between the two financial institutions, according to a report on Thursday by Israeli newspaper Haaretz. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has two days to convene a cabinet meeting to discuss reversing plans by Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich to isolate Palestinian banks from both the Israeli and international banking systems. The Palestinian economy is based on the Israeli currency, the shekel, making it reliant on ties to Israel and its financial dealings with the rest of the world must go through the Bank of Israel and Israeli banks.

We call this Apartheid.

that is just cruel

‘I wish for death’ - Twelve-year-old Alma says. She fled bombing and shelling twice before the third place they sheltered was bombed, She was rescued from the rubble only to find out both her parents and all four of her siblings had been killed. She found her 18-month-old brother in an unimaginable state. Her little brother was beheaded from the rubble after the IOF massacred them.

Source: BBC

gofundme.com

Help A Family From Gaza To Have A Secure Life, organized by Hamza Nabhan

Hello, I am Hamza Ramadan Nabhan. I am 20 years old. I live in Gaza City… Hamza Nabhan needs your support for Help A Family From Gaza To

Help Hamza get his family out of gaza.

Reblog if you’re bisexual, support bisexual people or are actually a bunch of tiny velociraptors in a human suit

DONT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE! DONT STOP TAKING ABOUT GAZA!

DONT LET THEM MAKE YOU FORGET!!

Fanfic tiktok is wild... I see so many people saying shit like "I could never read anything below 60k!!", or "What story can you even tell in under 5k words?" or "A oneshot below 10k isn't even a story!" or "I always filter completed fics by 100k< only!"

And I'm like...

A) which fandoms are you reading fics for where you have this kind of offerings on the regular?

B) have you heard of short stories? If you truly think every story NEEDS to be longform to connect with people, I sincerely feel sorry for you.

C) Average novel length is between 50k to 100k. I'm sorry, but CONSISTENTLY demanding fic writers to push out fics of that length is insane. Just think about it: YOU DEMAND AUTHORS TO PUT OUT FICS THAT COMPARE TO COMMERCIAL NOVELS IN LENGTH (AND QUALITY) AS A BASELINE.

Yall are wilding.

its like writing an essay but worse D:

Quondam

Quondam (adj.) ~ belonging to some time long past; once but no longer

Pairing: Chwe Vernon (Seventeen) x GN!Reader; Genre: Jurassic Park AU, 90s AU, aquaintances to lovers/distant friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst; Rating: sfw, PG-15; Warnings: a boat crash, mentions of prehistorical animals, dangerous animals, mentions of possible deaths, reader falls down while running.. twice, Vernon being in moderate danger; Wordcount: 4.431; Collab: SVT 90s Collab by @mingsolo and @beomcoups

Summary: It should have been a fun weekend trip but after the boat got caught by a storm and crashed on one of the dinosaur islands, you got separated from the group. You nearly despaired until Vernon found you.

Your heart hammered inside your chest as you ran along the rocky beach. Tears streamed down your cheeks and blurred your vision, yet you didn’t slow down. The harsh wind from the open sea tousled your hair but you couldn’t care less about it. Same with the pain radiating throughout your whole body.

As you jumped over another boulder your footing slipped and you fell face first to the ground. Your whole body heaved for air, lungs burning inside your chest. A sob ripped through your throat. “I shouldn’t have joined them”, you whispered and pulled your limbs to your core, making yourself as small as possible.

Three days ago your friend Sorn dragged you on a small cruise among friends. What was supposed to be a vacation with lots of fun, turned sour the second the group had decided to head towards the Las Cinco Muertes - better known as Jurassic Park. Even though Ten, who had steered the cruise, promised to only round the archipelago without stopping to set a foot on the shore, none of the group had thought of the sudden weather changes.

None of them could have predicted the storm that turned strong enough for the yacht to go shipwreck.

You had no idea how long you had been in the freezing ocean. The current and the waves had made it nearly impossible to swim towards the nearest island you had seen from the yacht before the accident happened.

Even after those three days your clothes still hadn’t dried. You shivered involuntarily, the cold after two nights had finally seeped into your bones. You curled in on yourself even more. While you hadn’t encountered any dinosaurs yet, you had found footprints of a Smilodon - the whole reason you just ran for your life.

You inhaled shakily and gnawed on your lower lip, mind racing with thoughts. Without the others and without a chance of contacting authorities the dread and knowledge you might die here, finally settled in. You had no idea how many of your friends survived the accident and how many actually made it to the shore like you.

“Y/N?”

You blinked several times, trying to clear your vision before you turned your head to look at the person that called out to you. Despite your pain, you pushed yourself up and rubbed over your eyes with the back of your hand. “Vernon?”

He simply stared at you, without saying another word. His expression appeared stoic and unreadable to you. 

“Are you alone?” You asked and got up on your knees, ignoring the small rocks digging into your skin. The pain actually felt welcome and like an escape of this awkward silence.

“Hm.”

You hummed as well, looking down on the ground to avoid eye contact with him. Despite both of you being in the same friend group, you barely interacted with him. Vernon always seemed to be in his own world and rather closed off. Not that you were any different with your archaeology and palaeontology studies. Unless people were from the same field they rarely shared your passion.

Before the silence could stretch on, you stood up and dusted off your clothes. “We need to leave or find the others. Either way we’re not safe on this island.”

Vernon raised one eyebrow, questioning you without saying a word. 

You sighed deeply, wanting to shake your head but you focused on the issue at hand instead. You grabbed his elbow and pulled him into the direction he came from. “I found footprints of a Smilodon and-”

“A what?”

“A sabertooth tiger.”

Vernon’s face twisted in understanding, right before it turned into surprise and worry. 

Seeing his strong expressions, nearly made you giggle. If it weren’t for the situation though. “If this is the hunting ground of it, we have to leave immediately. I am pretty sure that we’re the easiest prey around here.” 

Vernon grimaced but followed you without any resistance. He quietly listened to you ramble about the prehistoric animal, fascinated by the knowledge you presented him.

“I only saw one set of footprints which indicates the researchers claiming Smilodons were no social predators are actually right. Honestly, if they wouldn’t be so dangerous, I’d love to observe or research them. There’s still so much that we don’t know!”

You stopped talking, realising you just dropped lots of information on him. You awkwardly glanced towards Vernon, trying to gauge his reaction. Usually people appeared bored or stopped listening but to your surprise he looked at you with interest. The apology you usually sputtered after a knowledge vomit about prehistoric animals got stuck in your throat.

You shook your head momentarily to clear your thoughts, deciding to go a different path instead. “We need to find a hideout.”

This time Vernon grabbed your wrist and pulled you along the foreign terrain. “I got a place.” Vernon didn’t say more afterwards, simply guiding you further and further away from the coast.

Soon enough some sort of cliff appeared in the distance, its steep edge looming into the grey sky. 

For just a second worry clouded your thoughts, fearing Vernon had found a cave that might even be the home to a prehistoric creature. Though the closer you came, you couldn’t see any opening in the stone wall.

Instead a small ledge protruded from the stone and right underneath it were parts of the ship that got washed ashore. 

“You carried all of these things here?”

Vernon glanced over his shoulder, upon your surprised question but only shrugged them and looked back ahead. He let go of your wrist after you reached the ledge.

While you stayed rooted in your place, you watched Vernon wander around and move stuff to the side. “I wasn’t able to start a fire so far. So we’re at least not a roasted meal for the tiger.” He looked up at you, his stare growing more and more intense as he waited for your response.

You made a grimace - barely able to pull off a smile at his weak joke. “I… yeah, nor a smoked meal, I guess.”

Vernon grinned at you, satisfied, and sat down on a piece of rubble. “You mentioned we needed to find the others.”

You sat down as well with a deep sigh. “I honestly don’t know if any of them even survived the crash but I mean I found you-”

“Technically I found you.”

You chuckled softly and shook your head. “So you found me and that gives me hope some of the others might be alive as well. It’s just. The more time passes the slimmer the chances of finding someone.”

Vernon frowned in thought, hiding his lower face behind his hand as he hummed.

You shivered involuntarily, the dread of being the only ones alive silently creeped through your mind. 

“How much do you know about these islands?” 

Your head snapped back up again. “Not much, to be honest. It’s some twisted version of science and research. There was Isla Nublar, several miles up north from the archipelago. That was the island to start it all, I guess. Then there’s Isla Sorna. As far as I know, it was for evolution purposes and to get more animals for the theme park. I don’t know much about the other four islands. I just assume they are for evolution too.”

“I thought they only researched dinosaurs.”

You scoffed and shook your head again. “If we were completely true to the name, they should have only researched dinosaurs from the Jurassic era. But here we are with animals from the Ice Age.”

“Do you think we’ll see a Mammoth?”

You shrugged with your shoulders, another shiver running through your whole body. “I don’t even know whether I’d wanna see any prehistoric animal.”

“Why not?” Vernon tilted his head, his eyes trained on your face. “Aren’t you studying these animals?”

“I am”, you nodded shortly before you sighed once again. “It’s just. What if everything I learned, everything I imagined them to be turns out to be wrong? I don’t want my little bubble to burst.”

“Ah.” Vernon nodded exaggeratingly in understanding before he turned quiet again. Yet he still stared at you. 

You shifted uncomfortably in your place, avoiding eye contact. You could still feel his eyes on you but you desperately tried thinking of something else. “Actually, I just remembered. Even though this was all some hoax research they would have needed base camps to stay updated on the population and the animals in general.”

“We could have been camping all along, huh.”

Now you simply stared at Vernon, trying to understand what was going on inside his mind. “It’s late already. We should get a good night’s rest and then search for the base camp. It’s our best chance of rescue.” 

Vernon nodded and stretched his arms above his head, groaning when his joints popped. “Sounds like a solid plan.” He lied down almost immediately and made himself comfortable.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, stunned how easily he relaxed in such a situation. You on the other hand felt too much on edge to even think of sleeping. Once again another shiver ran through your body. You got reminded of the cold that seeped into your body and slowly but surely cooled your core temperature down.

You ignored the trembling of your body and scooted closer to the stone wall behind your back. While it wasn’t truly any warmer, it shielded you a little more from the wind and starting rain.

For the longest time you just sat there and stared ahead with distant eyes as the sky turned darker and darker. Despite the rain your ears picked up on various sounds and each one of them made you feel even more on edge.

“You should rest too”, Vernon mumbled, turning only his head to look at you.

Your attention snapped back to him, surprised he was still awake. “Someone has to stay awake in case something comes up.” You wrapped your arms even tighter around your torso, barely suppressing your shivers.

Vernon pushed himself up again and moved closer to you. He didn’t say another word but he gently pulled you against his body, sharing his warmth with you. Vernon wrapped his arms around you as well and pulled you down until you laid next to him. 

You were now between the stone wall and his body, facing away from him. You felt your muscles slowly relax with his warmth engulfing you. 

“Better?”

You hummed softly and turned around in his hold, ignoring the building embarrassment inside your stomach. “Thanks, this really helps.”

Vernon only hummed in return and closed his eyes again. “Relax now, tomorrow will be another long day.”

~~~

Once the first rays of sunshine appeared at the horizon the next morning, both Vernon and you headed back towards the coast. You assumed a base camp would be near the sea and convinced Vernon to walk along the shoreline. You also hoped to limit your chances of meeting any of the creatures roaming across the island.

It took everything within you to suppress yet another sigh. While you thought you got somehow closer to Vernon during the freezing night, the journey towards the base camp turned out to be just as awkwardly silent.

The terrain changed the further you two walked. At first it had been forests connected to the shore but those cleared out for wide fields of grass. “This would be the perfect habitat for mammoth or other horse-like prehistoric animals.”

“So there is a chance to see mammoths!” 

You chuckled softly. “Technically. I’m not certain it would be that safe to meet them though.” You glanced at Vernon, who shortly appeared quite disappointed before he nodded in resignation.

“Maybe from afar.”

A sad smile played over your lips as you focused back on your surroundings, still searching for the base camp even after being out for so long already. You nearly wanted to give up and suggest finding a place to stay for yet another night, when Vernon tapped your arm.

“Isn’t that a path for cars?” He pointed towards an overgrown passageway, barely visible if you weren’t actively searching for it. The path crossed the wide fields and vanished into another forest like area. 

You gasped in surprise, your heart thumping loudly within your chest as new hope bloomed inside. “Should we follow it?” You glanced at Vernon, sudden nervousness creeping up your spine.

“It will be alright.” Vernon grabbed your hand and pulled you along, steadily walking along the path without a worry in the world.

You on the other hand looked around, unable to shake off the feeling being watched. It only increased the minute you two entered the forest. 

Since the forest wasn’t as dense as the last one, you easily noticed how the sky darkened - the weather changing rapidly yet again. 

“I heard that the weather is unpredictable on Isla Pena.”

Vernon looked up at the sky for a second. “So you’re telling me we’re on Isla Pena due to the sudden changes?”

“Well, I only assume it could be that. I mean it’s definitely not Isla Nublar, which is not part of the Los Cinco Muertes and it’s not Isla Sorna since we saw hints of mammals living on this island instead of dinosaurs. Also I don’t think it’s Isla Tacano, because I haven’t noticed a sign of an active volcano.”

“Lucky us”, Vernon grunted with a soft chuckle as he pulled you further along the overgrown path. He tried to appear unbothered but even he felt like he was being watched and it made the hair on his neck stand up. “You’re like an expert, right? What kind of animal could live in a forest like this?”

You saw how Vernon glanced over his shoulder, uncertainty and worry mirroring in his expression. You bit on your lower lip, letting your gaze wander around one more time. “A light forest connected to a wide plain of grass. It honestly sounds like the perfect habitat for Terror Birds.”

Vernon sighed deeply, shaking his head. “I hope you’re wrong about this.”

“I hope so too”, you whispered.

As if on cue though you noticed a large nest a little to your right, half hidden behind the large roots of a tree.

You silently cursed under your breath and picked up your pace, tugging at Vernon’s hand to indicate he should move faster as well.

A huge weight got lifted from your chest when Vernon quietly pointed towards the outlines of a building, new hope making your steps lighter than before.

By now both of you nearly ran towards the base camp, trying to escape the sense of trepidation behind you. Safety was just at an arm’s length, when you heard the loud cries of something behind you.

Like a mechanical doll you turned your head around, eyes widening in horror when you saw a gigantic bird standing in the middle of the road behind you. Two more birds rushed to its side, tilting their heads in curiosity as they stared at your retreating forms.

Just as you wanted to inform Vernon about the Terror Birds behind you two, you tripped and fell to the ground. Due to the rain your hand slipped out of Vernon’s grasp and with a dull thud combined with a surprised yelp you found yourself flat on the ground.

Vernon immediately stopped in his tracks. He turned around, ready to help you when he saw the birds slowly approaching. “Fuck.” Not only did these birds appear to be twice as tall as a human, no they had incredibly strong legs with sharp claws at their feet. 

If someone thought the emus in Australia were scary, they truly hadn’t seen this terror. 

You groaned when Vernon helped you up, feeling a stinging pain shooting up from your ankle and through your whole leg. Yet, you tried to fight the pain, biting down on your lip and pushing through.

Vernon half dragged and half carried you towards the building, constantly looking behind him at the birds that came closer and closer.

You felt your heart pounding within your chest, louder than the thunder above your heads. It didn’t calm down either after Vernon pushed a metal door with a small window panel open. He helped you through and slipped inside right behind you, before he slammed the door shut again.

Vernon glanced through the small window, flinching when he saw and felt one of the Terror Birds running against the door. He pushed his whole weight against the metal, silently praying it would survive the onslaught. 

When the banging subsided, Vernon looked through the mirror again. He saw one bird marching from side to side, patiently eyeing the closed door as the other two birds rushed away to each side - probably searching for another entrance.

You leaned against the wall next to the door, trying to keep the weight off of your foot. You narrowed your eyes and tried to identify your surroundings. “I think this is some kind of hallway that leads to the centre of the base camp.”

“Then we should follow that. Those birds seem more intelligent than I had hoped for.” Vernon came to your side and slung one of your arms around his shoulder, snaking his own around your waist and steadying you as he pulled you along the hall.

“If those birds live around the area of the base camp, we’re lucky we got inside”, you mumbled, eyes cast down. “I’m not sure any of the others would have been just as lucky.”

Vernon stayed silent, understanding what you were trying to say but just like you he didn’t want to think about that possibility. So far he easily ignored the thought his group of friends might have been killed or died another way on this island already.

Soon enough you two reached an abandoned laboratory. Vernon helped you to sit down on a chair, before he roamed around the room, checking for possible light sources and other useful things.

You looked around, picturing how people in white lab coats rushed through the room, typing quickly on keyboards, analysing data from a large computer or scribbling down notes. You assumed this site got abandoned right after the Isla Nublar or Sorna incident, leaving all the animals to fend for themselves. You wondered how much changed since the controlled growth stopped.

Vernon stepped next to you again, presenting you a dusty emergency bag. “There’s a first aid kit, some energy bars and a satellite phone in it.”

You smiled up at him. “Everything we need.” You held out your hand, waiting for Vernon to give you the bag. You then opened it immediately and pulled out the satellite phone, hoping it was still able to operate. 

Meanwhile Vernon grabbed the first aid kit and crouched down before you, gently grabbing your leg and placing it on his thigh so he could secure your swollen ankle.

The phone cracked a few times before you finally got through and heard the voice of another person. Static interrupted their words from time to time, making it incredibly hard to understand what they were saying.

You assumed your voice would be just as broken off like theirs and therefore decided to simply repeat the same words over and over again until you heard some form of confirmation. “S.O.S. Isla Pena. Need rescue. Base camp.”

Both Vernon and you held your breaths for a moment, trying to understand their reply through all the white noise.

“Chopper after storm?” Vernon mouthed silently, raising an eyebrow questioningly as if he wanted to confirm you heard the same.

You nodded vigorously and thanked the person gleefully before cutting the call again. A relieved laugh escaped your lips as you slumped down on the chair. “We’re actually getting rescued. I can’t believe it.” Before you could hold it back, tears streamed down your cheeks and your laughter turned into quiet sobs.

Vernon stared at you with wide eyes, feeling somewhat awkward witnessing your vulnerable side.

“Can you hold me?” 

Your voice was barely above a whisper but Vernon immediately scooted closer and pulled you against his chest, gently rubbing over your back in a soothing manner. “It’s going to be alright. We just need to stay here and wait until the rescuers come and get us.”

You slowly shook your head. “There must be a landing place. We should find it and stay near it, so when the helicopter arrives we’re able to leave immediately before the next storm starts.”

After you had calmed down, Vernon helped you walk around the base camp. Thankfully there were signs everywhere and the constant lightning illuminated your paths enough for you two to walk freely and find the heli-port rather easily.

“I don’t think they’ll be able to land on here”, Vernon mumbled as you two stared out of the window, seeing fallen trees and broken things scattered all over the port. “Is there another place where they could land on?”

“Maybe the roof but I don’t know whether it’s strong enough to hold the weight of a helicopter.”

“That only leaves the option of climbing a ladder.” Vernon sighed and rubbed over his face. “Will you be able to do that?”

You nudged his shoulder with yours and grinned reassuringly. “I probably won’t be fast but yes, I got that.” You turned back to look outside, watching the strings of raindrops falling to the ground and the trees bending in the wind. You easily pretended that everything would be just fine but the nervousness still had a tight grip around your thoughts.

Vernon and you rested next to the door leading outside to the port. Any unusual sound made you tense up, worrying you missed something and would be stuck on this island until your last breath. 

You slightly turned your head, looking at Vernon. He had his eyes closed and brows furrowed, appearing tense and stern. You leaned over and cupped his cheek, smoothing down his features with a soft smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll get out of here unhar- we’ll get out of here.”

As if some benevolent god heard your voice, the storm subsided. The rain got reduced to a soft pitter-patter against the window and the dark clouds dissipated. Only minutes later you heard the distinct sound of an engine and the chopping sound the rotor blades of a helicopter made.

Vernon jumped up, pulling you with him as he pushed the door open and hurried out into the open - forgetting about his surroundings completely.

Both of you stared up at the sky. You shielded your eyes when the helicopter halted right above you, the strong wind whirling up puddles and small leaves.

Just like Vernon predicted they threw a ladder out of the open side of the chopper, motioning to the both of you to climb up.

Vernon grabbed the lower end of the ladder and kept it steady as he turned towards you. “You’re going up first.”

“But I told you I’m slower-”

“Which is why I’m holding onto this to make it easier for you.” 

You sighed, sensing he wouldn’t budge. Carefully, you climbed the first few steps. The higher you got, the more thankful you felt for Vernon holding the ladder as still as possible. You already made it halfway up the ladder when the rescuers yelled at you. Confused, you looked back down.

One of the Terror Birds appeared at the edge of the heli-port. While it eyed the helicopter warily and kept as low as possible, it didn’t seem phased enough to flee. No, instead its focus turned towards Vernon, who still stood on the ground holding the ladder.

“Vernon!” Your voice sounded borderline hysteric. He didn’t react, your voice probably drowning out by the noise from the helicopter. You knew he wouldn’t start climbing before you made it up. You bit on your lower lip and pushed yourself to climb up faster, ignoring the stinging pain that flared up inside of your ankle again.

The second the rescuer pulled you into the chopper, you turned around and screamed at Vernon. 

He already climbed a quarter of the way, when the Terror Bird decided to charge. 

Your mind got filled with white noise as you stared at the scene unfolding underneath you. You barely registered the yelling of the rescuers, nor that the helicopter suddenly pulled up. You could only see how the Terror Bird had its beak around the ladder, right underneath Vernon’s foot. 

As the bird struggled and sent tremors through the ladder, Vernon was barely able to ascend further. 

Your eyes met with his, before you watched in horrible silence how Vernon climbed the few steps back down, kicking against the beak of the Terror Bird.

Another scream got stuck in your throat when the helicopter shook from another tremble. This time because a Sabertooth Tiger jumped from the roof of the base camp and attacked the bird. 

As both fell to the ground, the ladder got pulled back into the helicopter by the rescuers. They pushed you aside, obstructing your view and sudden fear immobilised you. 

Only after Vernon got pulled into the chopper as well, did you feel like you were able to breathe again. You scrambled over to his side, basically falling into his form. You wrapped your arms around his neck, mumbling your thanks for him being unharmed over and over again.

Vernon wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you into a tight embrace, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He nosed along your temple, placing soft kisses on your skin.

You didn’t pull back. Instead you ever so slowly turned your head until the tips of your noses met and your breaths mingled. 

Vernon closed the gap, being just as careful as before. He gave you enough time to pull away but you only leaned more into him. 

The second your lips met, all your worries, the dread and fear melted away, leaving a soft fluttering and tingling that spread throughout your body.

You actually made it out alive and with the help of the authorities you could also find your missing friends. Most importantly you found something else during this experience. 

Vernon broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours as he chuckled softly. “Next time I’ll try a simple museum date to get closer to you.”

“Or library.” You giggled and shook your head, surprised you found love within this rollercoaster ride.

i haven't been on tumblr for a moth why do i feel so uncomfy with smut....

this is so beautiful

“Oh Rascal Children of Gaza,” by Palestinian poet, Khaled Juma, 2014

⇝ MÉNAGE .

Simon makes the mistake of spending the night before one of the longest missions of his career in the arms of a woman he met at a pub, unaware of the consequences it would have on his life moving forward.

CW: Unplanned pregnancy, angst, smut, fluff, dad!Simon.

STATUS: ongoing!

Also on Ao3!

If you want to be tagged on future works, please follow and activate notifications on this account! — @lilynottaken !

— CHAPTERS:

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

I ; Midnight ; [ 10.1k words ]

II ; Shadow ; [ 10k words ]

III ; Together ; [ 9.2k words ]

IV ; Refuge ; [ 11.2k words ]

V ; Resolution ; [ 8.4k words ]

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

— BLURBS + BRAINROT:

Brainrot tag !

How Simon would act if reader and Tommy got sick. ; [ Set after chapter 4! ]

How Simon would react to reader getting a text from her ex. ; [ Set after chapter 4! ]

How Simon would react to reader getting a boyfriend. ; [ Set after chapter 4! ]

Simon helps Reader get ready ; [ Set after chapter 5! ]

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

— EXTRA:

Tommy's age across the chapters!

IM NOT OKAY😍😍😍

consider this filthy mafia!Soap x nurse!fem!Reader piece a thank you for 2k followers!

mafia!141 masterlist

warnings: masturbation(fem), oral (fem receiving), use of good boy, voyeurism, p in v

"No touching."

Those two words broke Johnny's poor mind, and you watched as his brain shut down and started back up as he stood in the doorway to the apartment with his mouth agape. Once he seemed to regain some semblance of a coherent thought, his eyes raked over you, not sparing a single inch of your body from his gaze. He looked at your bare breasts and your chest as it heavily rose and fell with your labored breaths. Then there was the soft tissue of your stomach and the way your abdominal muscles rippled underneath, tensed with stimulation and pleasure.

However, the most eye-catching sight of all was what happened between your legs. Those deep blue eyes drank up the way your fingers slid along your slit, how you rubbed and toyed with your clit. Even from that short distance he could see the way your arousal coated your fingers, and he drank up the way your hips bucked up into your own stimulation. It wasn't the view he expected to see when he came home from work, but he had no complaints.

"You're killing me, bonnie," he breathed.

Ignoring him for a moment, you spread your legs further as you adjusted your position on the bed, which allowed you to deepen the stimulation. A small groan left your mouth without permission, but you pretended that it never happened as your attention focused on Johnny for a split moment.

"You can watch, but no touching," you reiterated.

Good thing Johnny didn't mind a show.

While you continued your relentless assault on your clit, Johnny carefully climbed onto the foot of the bed where he ensured his movements wouldn't disturb you too much. He quickly settled for your performance where he drank in the view of you with your closed eyes and knitted brows. Sweat glistened along your collarbones and neck, and it dimly reflected the faded lights of his apartment all too enticingly.

As the confines of his jeans grew ever tighter, he couldn't help but think about how he could do it better than you could. Though your moans were sweet and soft, he was always able to pull louder, more desperate moans from you when he fucked you himself. Johnny knew just the right way to curl his fingers inside of you to get your back arching. He knew exactly how much pressure to use when pounding into you that would get you to cry out for him and drag your nails across his back.

He all but got on his hands and knees in order to get a better view of your cunt like he watched his favorite show, and after a while the bed began to shake with the force he used to grind into the mattress. He needed to hear more of you, to feel you, taste you. You were terribly cruel for denying him any sort of treat or attention, fucking yourself on your fingers as if he wasn't even there at all, like he was just some peeping apparition.

Then he noticed it. The tensing of your legs, the way they caved in on your hand with intent to trap it there as your fingers picked up speed. Breaths hitched in your throat as your eyes squeezed tight, and Johnny found himself inching closer to you as if you would potentially change your mind and ask him to finish you off. A violent tremor tore through your body, and he watched in real time as your body began to shake and melt into the mattress with each soft pant that left your lips. There was nothing left of you but a pile of mush and a wet, sticky mess that coated your fingers and thighs.

Cursing, Johnny crawled closer to you where he nestled himself between your thighs but still didn't touch you. Big, blown out pupils met you as you finally opened your eyes, and you couldn't help but smirk at the pathetic sight of him as he tried to fuck you with his gaze alone.

"Good boy," you hummed as you rested your hands on your stomach. "You can touch now."

Without so much as hesitating, Johnny's arms hooked underneath your legs where he yanked your lower half into the air, bringing your cunt to meet his mouth. Large muscles bulged out from his biceps as he kept you trapped in place in order to lap away at you. You yelped at the sudden movement, but a gasp smothered it as you felt his tongue poke into your hole, drinking up your arousal as if he found an oasis in a desert. And he groaned. Groaned as if it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, like you were the only thing he would need to sustain himself for the rest of his life.

"I'm your good boy," he mumbled against your heat. "Was so good, wasn't I? Don't I deserve a reward? Please, baby..."

Before you could even answer, your lower half suddenly crashed back into the mattress and Johnny collapsed on top of you. It didn't take long for his lips to find the soft underside of your jaw where he kissed and nipped at you while his clothed crotch ground against your sopping wet cunt.

"You're so needy," you teased. Johnny only grunted in response as his face pressed further into the side of your neck where you felt your own slick transfer from his face onto your skin. "Go easy, yeah? Still sore from last night."

Without hesitation, you heard Johnny's belt jingle as he unbuckled it one handed. His movements were fast and needy as he eventually yanked his cock free from its restraints where he then pressed it against your welcoming entrance. Both of you groaned, you from the stretch, and him from the delicious way you pulsed around the tip of his dick.

"Yes ma'am."

Smirking, your hands came to rest on his hips where you gently pulled him closer to you. Inch by inch, he filled you until he completely bottomed out, leaving him nothing but a panting mess above you. He hadn't even started to move and you could already feel the way he twitched inside of you.

"Good boy."

consider this filthy mafia!Soap x nurse!fem!Reader piece a thank you for 2k followers!

mafia!141 masterlist

warnings: masturbation(fem), oral (fem receiving), use of good boy, voyeurism, p in v

"No touching."

Those two words broke Johnny's poor mind, and you watched as his brain shut down and started back up as he stood in the doorway to the apartment with his mouth agape. Once he seemed to regain some semblance of a coherent thought, his eyes raked over you, not sparing a single inch of your body from his gaze. He looked at your bare breasts and your chest as it heavily rose and fell with your labored breaths. Then there was the soft tissue of your stomach and the way your abdominal muscles rippled underneath, tensed with stimulation and pleasure.

However, the most eye-catching sight of all was what happened between your legs. Those deep blue eyes drank up the way your fingers slid along your slit, how you rubbed and toyed with your clit. Even from that short distance he could see the way your arousal coated your fingers, and he drank up the way your hips bucked up into your own stimulation. It wasn't the view he expected to see when he came home from work, but he had no complaints.

"You're killing me, bonnie," he breathed.

Ignoring him for a moment, you spread your legs further as you adjusted your position on the bed, which allowed you to deepen the stimulation. A small groan left your mouth without permission, but you pretended that it never happened as your attention focused on Johnny for a split moment.

"You can watch, but no touching," you reiterated.

Good thing Johnny didn't mind a show.

While you continued your relentless assault on your clit, Johnny carefully climbed onto the foot of the bed where he ensured his movements wouldn't disturb you too much. He quickly settled for your performance where he drank in the view of you with your closed eyes and knitted brows. Sweat glistened along your collarbones and neck, and it dimly reflected the faded lights of his apartment all too enticingly.

As the confines of his jeans grew ever tighter, he couldn't help but think about how he could do it better than you could. Though your moans were sweet and soft, he was always able to pull louder, more desperate moans from you when he fucked you himself. Johnny knew just the right way to curl his fingers inside of you to get your back arching. He knew exactly how much pressure to use when pounding into you that would get you to cry out for him and drag your nails across his back.

He all but got on his hands and knees in order to get a better view of your cunt like he watched his favorite show, and after a while the bed began to shake with the force he used to grind into the mattress. He needed to hear more of you, to feel you, taste you. You were terribly cruel for denying him any sort of treat or attention, fucking yourself on your fingers as if he wasn't even there at all, like he was just some peeping apparition.

Then he noticed it. The tensing of your legs, the way they caved in on your hand with intent to trap it there as your fingers picked up speed. Breaths hitched in your throat as your eyes squeezed tight, and Johnny found himself inching closer to you as if you would potentially change your mind and ask him to finish you off. A violent tremor tore through your body, and he watched in real time as your body began to shake and melt into the mattress with each soft pant that left your lips. There was nothing left of you but a pile of mush and a wet, sticky mess that coated your fingers and thighs.

Cursing, Johnny crawled closer to you where he nestled himself between your thighs but still didn't touch you. Big, blown out pupils met you as you finally opened your eyes, and you couldn't help but smirk at the pathetic sight of him as he tried to fuck you with his gaze alone.

"Good boy," you hummed as you rested your hands on your stomach. "You can touch now."

Without so much as hesitating, Johnny's arms hooked underneath your legs where he yanked your lower half into the air, bringing your cunt to meet his mouth. Large muscles bulged out from his biceps as he kept you trapped in place in order to lap away at you. You yelped at the sudden movement, but a gasp smothered it as you felt his tongue poke into your hole, drinking up your arousal as if he found an oasis in a desert. And he groaned. Groaned as if it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, like you were the only thing he would need to sustain himself for the rest of his life.

"I'm your good boy," he mumbled against your heat. "Was so good, wasn't I? Don't I deserve a reward? Please, baby..."

Before you could even answer, your lower half suddenly crashed back into the mattress and Johnny collapsed on top of you. It didn't take long for his lips to find the soft underside of your jaw where he kissed and nipped at you while his clothed crotch ground against your sopping wet cunt.

"You're so needy," you teased. Johnny only grunted in response as his face pressed further into the side of your neck where you felt your own slick transfer from his face onto your skin. "Go easy, yeah? Still sore from last night."

Without hesitation, you heard Johnny's belt jingle as he unbuckled it one handed. His movements were fast and needy as he eventually yanked his cock free from its restraints where he then pressed it against your welcoming entrance. Both of you groaned, you from the stretch, and him from the delicious way you pulsed around the tip of his dick.

"Yes ma'am."

Smirking, your hands came to rest on his hips where you gently pulled him closer to you. Inch by inch, he filled you until he completely bottomed out, leaving him nothing but a panting mess above you. He hadn't even started to move and you could already feel the way he twitched inside of you.

"Good boy."

THROUGH A RAPIST’S EYES” (PLS TAKE TIME TO READ THIS. It may save a life, It may save your life.)

An Article from Neena Susan Thomas

“Through a rapist’s eyes. A group of rapists and date rapists in prison were interview…ed on what they look for in a potential victim and here are some interesting facts:

1] The first thing men look for in a potential victim is hairstyle. They are most likely to go after a woman with a ponytail, bun! , braid, or other hairstyle that can easily be grabbed. They are also likely to go after a woman with long hair. Women with short hair are not common targets.

2] The second thing men look for is clothing. They will look for women who’s clothing is easy to remove quickly. Many of them carry scissors around to cut clothing.

3] They also look for women using their cell phone, searching through their purse or doing other activities while walking because they are off guard and can be easily overpowered.

4] The number one place women are abducted from / attacked at is grocery store parking lots.

5] Number two is office parking lots/garages.

6] Number three is public restrooms.

7] The thing about these men is that they are looking to grab a woman and quickly move her to a second location where they don’t have to worry about getting caught.

8] If you put up any kind of a fight at all, they get discouraged because it only takes a minute or two for them to realize that going after you isn’t worth it because it will be time-consuming.

9] These men said they would not pick on women who have umbrellas,or other similar objects that can be used from a distance, in their hands.

10] Keys are not a deterrent because you have to get really close to the attacker to use them as a weapon. So, the idea is to convince these guys you’re not worth it.

POINTS THAT WE SHOULD REMEMBER:

1] If someone is following behind you on a street or in a garage or with you in an elevator or stairwell, look them in the face and ask them a question, like what time is it, or make general small talk: can’t believe it is so cold out here, we’re in for a bad winter. Now that you’ve seen their faces and could identify them in a line- up, you lose appeal as a target.

2] If someone is coming toward you, hold out your hands in front of you and yell Stop or Stay back! Most of the rapists this man talked to said they’d leave a woman alone if she yelled or showed that she would not be afraid to fight back. Again, they are looking for an EASY target.

3] If you carry pepper spray (this instructor was a huge advocate of it and carries it with him wherever he goes,) yelling I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY and holding it out will be a deterrent.

4] If someone grabs you, you can’t beat them with strength but you can do it by outsmarting them. If you are grabbed around the waist from behind, pinch the attacker either under the arm between the elbow and armpit or in the upper inner thigh – HARD. One woman in a class this guy taught told him she used the underarm pinch on a guy who was trying to date rape her and was so upset she broke through the skin and tore out muscle strands the guy needed stitches. Try pinching yourself in those places as hard as you can stand it; it really hurts.

5] After the initial hit, always go for the groin. I know from a particularly unfortunate experience that if you slap a guy’s parts it is extremely painful. You might think that you’ll anger the guy and make him want to hurt you more, but the thing these rapists told our instructor is that they want a woman who will not cause him a lot of trouble. Start causing trouble, and he’s out of there.

6] When the guy puts his hands up to you, grab his first two fingers and bend them back as far as possible with as much pressure pushing down on them as possible. The instructor did it to me without using much pressure, and I ended up on my knees and both knuckles cracked audibly.

7] Of course the things we always hear still apply. Always be aware of your surroundings, take someone with you if you can and if you see any odd behavior, don’t dismiss it, go with your instincts. You may feel little silly at the time, but you’d feel much worse if the guy really was trouble.

FINALLY, PLEASE REMEMBER THESE AS WELL ….

1. Tip from Tae Kwon Do: The elbow is the strongest point on your body. If you are close enough to use it, do it.

2. Learned this from a tourist guide to New Orleans : if a robber asks for your wallet and/or purse, DO NOT HAND IT TO HIM. Toss it away from you…. chances are that he is more interested in your wallet and/or purse than you and he will go for the wallet/purse. RUN LIKE MAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!

3. If you are ever thrown into the trunk of a car: Kick out the back tail lights and stick your arm out the hole and start waving like crazy. The driver won’t see you but everybody else will. This has saved lives.

4. Women have a tendency to get into their cars after shopping,eating, working, etc., and just sit (doing their checkbook, or making a list, etc. DON’T DO THIS! The predator will be watching you, and this is the perfect opportunity for him to get in on the passenger side,put a gun to your head, and tell you where to go. AS SOON AS YOU CLOSE the DOORS , LEAVE.

5. A few notes about getting into your car in a parking lot, or parking garage:

a. Be aware: look around your car as someone may be hiding at the passenger side , peek into your car, inside the passenger side floor, and in the back seat. ( DO THIS TOO BEFORE RIDING A TAXI CAB) .

b. If you are parked next to a big van, enter your car from the passenger door. Most serial killers attack their victims by pulling them into their vans while the women are attempting to get into their cars.

c. Look at the car parked on the driver’s side of your vehicle, and the passenger side. If a male is sitting alone in the seat nearest your car, you may want to walk back into the mall, or work, and get a guard/policeman to walk you back out. IT IS ALWAYS BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY. (And better paranoid than dead.)

6. ALWAYS take the elevator instead of the stairs. (Stairwells are horrible places to be alone and the perfect crime spot).

7. If the predator has a gun and you are not under his control, ALWAYS RUN! The predator will only hit you (a running target) 4 in 100 times; And even then, it most likely WILL NOT be a vital organ. RUN!

8. As women, we are always trying to be sympathetic: STOP IT! It may get you raped, or killed. Ted Bundy, the serial killer, was a good-looking, well educated man, who ALWAYS played on the sympathies of unsuspecting women. He walked with a cane, or a limp, and often asked “for help” into his vehicle or with his vehicle, which is when he abducted his next victim.

Send this to any woman you know that may need to be reminded that the world we live in has a lot of crazies in it and it’s better safe than sorry.

If u have compassion reblog this post. ‘Helping hands are better than Praying Lips’ – give us your helping hand.

REBLOG THIS AND LET EVERY GIRL KNOW AT LEAST PEOPLE WILL KNOW WHATS GOING ON IN THIS WORLD. So please reblog this….Your one reblog can Help to spread this information.

THIS COULD ACTUALLY SAVE A LIFE.”

when y'all read x reader fan fiction, do you guys not use it as escapism? because the way you guys complain about not relating 100% to reader. like sometimes i want to imagine myself as a flirtatious reader or a complete bitch. like do y'all not imagine yourselves with a completely different personality and read it for the storytelling? you do not have to relate to every aspect of the reader and it's completely fine. some of y'all have boring lives outside of fan fiction, so use it as your escape from real life because some of y'all act like y'all want it to mirror every single aspect of it.

homegrown pet is a monsterfucker dream come true 

I NEED HELP

I was looking for a blog in my following, and I have no idea if they removed my follow or any else, all I remember is a very juicy fic that I read AND I FOLLOWED THEM AFTER THAT! The fic is abt Chan being a really hot cold chef bossy omg, and yn has attitude. THEN CHAN COMES IN YNS DREAM AND THEY DO…wtv you do on a kitchen counter…xes. ANYWAYS WHOEVER READ THAT PLS PLS PLS REPLY, and the blog’s name starts with ‘exxx’ BIT i dont know HOW MANY X so yeah it ends ordinary so please ty for reading this!