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@reighlee-greaves
Hey everyone so I’ll be moving all of my work that I have done here to my new account @bunny-skz00 so if you see any of my work on this account just know that it’s me and not someone copping my work
I will message everyone who I have been in contact with recently regarding this
Picture Perfect
Hyunjin x (FTM) Reader
Stray Kids SMAU
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When (Y/N) and his 4 year old daughter Bela have to leave England because of his abusive ex boyfriend, his Uncle J takes them in and keeps them safe. With the help of the boys (Y/N) and Bela learn more about themselves than they thought possible. Along the way Hyunjin starts to feel things for the English man with a toddler who has also fallen madly in love with the idol. Will the three of them be happy or will (Y/N)’s past ruin it? ———————————————————————
Part Two - Group Meeting
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So this is the long awaited part 2 I am so sorry that it took me so long to do but the app that I normally use stopped working and kept crashing so I had to find a new app anyway let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged in this series
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@jinhyun
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This is being moved to my other account @bunny-skz00 so look there for new parts
Picture Perfect
Hyunjin x (FTM) Reader
Stay Kids SMAU
—————————————————
When (Y/N) and his 4 year old daughter Bela have to leave England because of his abusive ex boyfriend, his Uncle J takes them in and keeps them safe. With the help of the boys (Y/N) and Bela learn more about themselves than they thought possible. Along the way Hyunjin starts to feel things for the English man with a toddler who has also fallen madly in love with the idol. Will the three of them be happy or will (Y/N)’s past ruin it? ———————————————————————
Part One- New Beginnings
——————————————————————
So this is the first part of my Stray Kids SMAU. I wanted to make one of these for my fellow ftm stays out there because there’s not a lot of content out there for trans men let alone trans people in general so let me know what you think and let me know if you want to be tagged in it. Special thanks to @jinhyun for helping me with this so go and check out her stray kids smau Watercolours as well as her other works.
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@fruity-and-friendly-2 
This is being moved to my other account @bunny-skz00 so look there for new parts
Back Together
prompt 25: "How'd you survive this long on your own?"
Era: Prison (Mid-season 3) no spoilers,
Summary: When you're searching for food, you were threatened by two strangers, but who knew that these strangers would lead you to your family. || sister!reader x daryl
Word Count: 1,847
warnings: hunting, threatening, weapons (just twd things) heavy dialogue (sorryyy)
a/n: umm can you guys tell that I love the prison era?? I'll try to switch it up for my next fic, promise. anyways, enjoy some uncle!daryl, let me know if you want more! feedback is greatly appreciated.
Silence rang in your ears, you closed your eyes tightly honing in on the repeating of your brother's voice. “Focus on the target. Take your aim. Don’t be nervous, take a breath. Okay good now shoot.” A shot rang out, your vision blurring as the rumble in your stomach intensified.
“Fuck,” you growled, watching as your hunt ran away, startled by the sudden noise and movement around it. Your energy was completely diminished, and honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you ate or even had a clean drink of water. Letting your eyes drop and your head fall back, you sniffled, willing the tears to stay in, praying to a god that you didn’t even believe in that this damned world would give you some kind of break. Shaking off the failure and wiping the wetness off your cheeks, you began a new search; at this point, berries would have to do, you needed something to keep going, something for her.
The leaves rustled around you followed by a loud snap of a branch. Stopping in your tracks, your vision darted around, your grip tightening on the weapon, your knuckles turning white.
“Put the gun down, now.” A low voice growled, the hammer of a gun clicking dangerously close to your ears. The metal against your skull sent shivers down your spine as you swallowed your pride, dropping the gun to the floor.
“Now let me see your hands and turn around.” You did as told, your mind racing as your eyes shot around, trying your best to think of plan. Think of a way out.
“How many of there are you?” the man asked. You looked him up and down, studying the tattered light brown button-up and dark-colored denim that adorned his body. Looking back up at his face, his bright blue eyes pierced into yours, the dirt and stubble scattered on his chin.
“I won’t ask you again. How many of you are there?” Your jaw tensed, teeth clenching as his grip tightened around the gun.
“Don’t have nothin’ you want. Jus’ let me go.” Before he could speak again, the branches next to him moved.
“Rick wait,” a voice called, another man appearing in front of you, your daughter in their arms. Panic filled your eyes, your heartbeat increasing as he held his arms tightly around the young girl.
“Get off of her! Jus’ leave us alone!” you demanded, taking a step toward the young Asian man.
“Take one more step and I will not hesitate to pull the trigger.” Presumably, Rick threatened.
“Rick,” Glenn spat, setting your five-year-old on the ground and letting her run up to you.
“Mommy,” she whimpered, You shushed her slightly, before picking her up and holding her tightly in your arms as she tucked her head into your neck. You felt her tears wet your neck as you looked back up at the men.
“‘S just us. Now jus’ let us go, we were jus’ tryna to find somethin’ to eat.”
Rick took a breath, lowering his gun before glancing over at the other man.
“How many walkers have you killed?” he asked, placing in gun back in his holster. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked him over.
“Just answer the question,” the other man told you, before grounding down to dig through his back. You swallowed harshly, clearing your throat.
“Dozens.”
“How many people have you killed?” Your breath faltered and your chest flared with anger as a flashback ran through your brain.
“Two,” you spat out, your teeth involuntarily gritting.
“Why?”
“Tried to kill me ‘n take my daughter,” you answered quickly, shaking your head to keep the memories away, squeezing your daughter a bit tighter. Rick took another look over his shoulder before nodding towards the little one in your arms.
“Where’s her daddy?”
“Dead hopefully. Wasn’t no good in the first place.”
Rick nodded his jaw clenching and unclenching as he watched his companion hand you a slightly crunched-up granola bar. Looking at it for a second, Glenn nodded, pushing it toward you. You took it not hesitating to rip open the packaging and take a small bite to ensure its safety before whispering quietly to your daughter that you had something for her to eat. The men watched as you handed her a small piece and she gobbled it down, quickly moving on to the rest of the bar. Rick leaned over to grab your gun, turning it over to hand it back to you. Thanking him with a nod, you placed it back in your holster before gathering yourself to walk back into the unknown. Rick cleared his throat, however, before you could even take a step.
“We uh, we have a camp nearby, food, water, walls. It’s safe. Your daughter would be safe.” Rick said. You stayed silent, turning back around to look at them.
“Why should I trust ya?”
“If you didn’t, you would’ve killed us with that gun you have in your boot,” the Asian kid pointed out. Taking a deep breath and letting the silence linger, you watched as your daughter finished chewing the granola bar. “It’s all fer her now, ya know that right? Ya gotta give that kid a good life, better than what we had.” You hesitated but nodded nonetheless.
“Alright. Yeah, alright.”
“Good, just know we do expect you to earn your keep. Now come on, just about half a mile from here.” You nodded, beginning to follow them, readjusting the young one on your hip.
“Names Glenn by the way, Glenn Rhee, and that's Rick Grimes,” Glenn offered, his hand outstretched to be shaken.
“Y/n, Y/n Dixon and this is Hope,” you replied, reaching your hand out only for both of them to stop in their tracks.
“What did you say?”
“Uh, my name?”
“No, what’d you say your last name was?”
“Dixon?”
“Huh, that makes a lot of sense,” Glenn interrupted.
“What are ya on about?” you scowled taking a step back.
“Come on, Dixon, I think camp might be closer to home than you think.” Your face wrinkled in confusion, listening to the way your name rolled off his tongue with familiarity. You let them lead you, fear filling your chest as if you had fallen right into their trap. “Don’t you trust nobody, all you got is you and me and Merle when he’s around. Keep your guard up- always.” You swallowed, reaching for the gun swiftly and cocking the hammer back.
“What’s gon’ on? This some kind of trap?” you barked, waving the gun between the two as Rick raised his gun in your direction. Glenn looked at Rick, pushing his weapon down and placing his hands up.
“Woah, hey no! We swear.”
“That doesn’t mean nothin’ these days. Now ya tell me or I attract every dead one for miles around and send ‘em straight to your camp,” you threatened.
“Daryl. Daryl Dixon.” Glenn knew immediately he had struck a cord, seeing the way the anger melted from your face and your eyes began to gloss over as your muscles weakened.
“Is he- He’s-,” you stumbled.
“He’s alive. He’s with our group.” You let the tears flow, holding Hope even tighter as you holstered your gun, quickly beginning to jog in the direction they had been leading you.
“Y/n wait!” Glenn called quietly, “Rick come on.” They jogged behind you, not stopping until the large prison appeared. You slowed, waiting for the men to catch up as they whistled and the gates opened. You followed them, your head shooting around taking in your surroundings, searching. Hope wiggled in your arms, uncomfortable with the sudden movements.
“Daryl!” Rick called to the man that was hunched over his bike. You watched with teary eyes and quickened breath as he looked up at you, recognition flashing over his features. Your chest heaved, a wobbly smile spreading on your lips as your legs moved quickly toward the man, toward your brother. You didn’t stop until your chests collided, Hope whining as she was momentarily smushed between you two. Hands shaking, you let her down, returning your arms around Daryl’s torso.
“I thought I’d never see ya again,” you whispered, gripping his shirt and making sure it was real. His hand found the back of your head, supporting you as your face buried into his chest.
“I-I looked for ya, every day, and when I couldn’t find ya I-”
“Ya did what you had to do. It’s okay. Merle? Is Merle okay?” You felt him stiffen, a sharp pain aching through your heart as you held back a sob.
He reluctantly broke apart, a wet smile on his lips as he crouched down to be eye level with Hope.
“Hey sweetheart, member me?” She nodded meeking, sucking her thumb anxiously.
“Yer hair ‘s messy,” she spoke quietly, reaching her hand toward the undoubtedly longer locks. Daryl couldn’t stop the wet chuckle that escaped his lips, closely followed by the tears pricking at his eyes. He reached his arms out pinching her sides, a high pitched giggle escaping from her lips before being swopped up by the man in front of her.
“Missed ya sunshine,” he sighed, holding her close, “now let’s get you guys somethin’ to eat, yer mom looks like she’s about to fall over.”
-
You sat inside, taking in the cold concrete walls around you, waiting for Daryl to return with both your daughter and hopefully some form of protein.
“Here, just caught it this morning,” Daryl hummed, setting a bowl in front of you full of some kind of meat. At this point you didn’t care, pain stabbing through your body from hunger. You looked up, making sure Hope had something as well before digging in. Daryl aided Hope in using her fork, something you couldn’t recall her ever using before. A comfortable silence lulled in the air, Daryl mumbling every so often to Hope as she finished her plate.
“Daryl?” he hummed in response looking back up at you.
“You trust these people?” you asked sinceriously. He nodded, readjusting Hope as she let out a yawn.
“I do, yeah.” You nodded, shoveling the last bite in your mouth.
“Okay, I trust you.”
“You uh- you been alone this whole time?” he asked reluctantly, guilt creeping in. You answered with a nod.
“How’d you survive this long on your own?”
“Don’t be stupid, I’m a Dixon. Ain’t nothin’ different than livin’ with dad,” you scoffed, doing what you did best, hiding your fear and any sign of emotion.
“Y/n-” he sighed.
“You and M-merle went camping, and the radios started goin’ crazy. I tried to find you both, but things got- it was bad Daryl. I did what I had to do. Fer her,” you nodded towards the resting child.
“Want me to take her?”
“No- no. Jus’ a bit longer,” he swallowed. You nodded, sucking in a deep breath as tears filled your eyes yet again.
“We’re gonna be alright, ya know?” he whispered, placing his hand ontop of yours.
“Yeah- yeah we are.”
Good Ol’ Dixon Advice
Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] | Carl Grimes [ROMANTIC] • He/Him Pronouns • Crushes are weird and Daryl may not have the golden standard advice. But he’ll do his best • ANGST/SFW • TW: PTSD / Nightmares / Scars / Messy Confessions / Self Harm Mentioned
Requested by: Anon
“Hey uh…dad? You’ve got a minute?”
Daryl looked up from the bike frame noticing his son standing at the garage door extremely anxious. He stopped what he was doing to give Y/N his attention.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Or I don’t know. I just. Uh….” Y/N tried his best to be blunt about it, but he doesn’t know how Daryl would react to such. So might as well just… “I’m gay”
The archer blankly stared at his kid watching his tense shoulders relax when he shrugged before turning back to the bike frame.
“So? Love who yea want”
“Oh. Okay cool, so how do I do it”
“Huh?” His full attention returned in a split second as Y/N brought himself more into the garage to avoid anyone listening in. Both being paranoid individuals about eavesdroppers even if most aren’t around. “What do you mean ‘how do I do it?’ There’s no handbook to being gay”
“No! I know…like that much. I’m talking—-talking to your crush. Shit like that”
“Language, bud” Daryl scowled, asking for a certain tool for Y/N to grab as he did. If he’s going to be there, he’s going to learn and help with building the bike. “I don’t know how to deal with that that well”
“Seriously? You and Carol aren’t something alre—-“
“Y/N!”
“What! She’s not here! Aaron and Eric aren’t here! NO ONES LISTENING”
“WHOLE TOWN MIGHT AS WELL IF YEA YELLING” Daryl snaps, ultimately regretting it when Y/N retracted as he takes a deep breath. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have yelled. But again, I ain’t the best with crushes either. Hell, I only talk to yea most”
“Clearly. But you do grunt for every other sentence” Y/N states listening to him grunt in response, only proving his point.
Daryl handed off the tool for Y/N to put back as it dawned on him. “Who do yea like?”
“Uhhhhh. Not important”
“Y/N, bud…if yea want advice. I might wanna know”
“Or you don’t gotta and still give me advice that you won’t take for yourself and your own crushes”
This kid’s obvious statements is gonna piss Daryl off soon.
“Imma start guessin’ if yea—-“
“Carl!” He snaps hoping to then drop it as he was starting to stress himself out thinking about it. “But it’s like…fuck I don’t know” he got up about to leave the garage but stopped at the exit/entrance.
“Seriously I may cuss a lot. Don’t mean you gotta” Daryl gets up from his seated position, tossing the rag that he wiped his hands with on the work bench watching Y/N tense at the thoughts he was getting. “What’s stopping yea from just saying how yea feel?”
“Don’t you like…gotta know first if they like or don’t like the same gender…”
“Mm. From what I learned growing up, people just take their chances and if they ain’t? You move on”
“There’s nothing to move onto”
“That…sounded bad. But if you have a crush on the kid, then why not take the risk?”
“Cuz there’s also the chance of this Enid girl”
“Have you heard of bisexuals?” Daryl questioning only to receive a glare from Y/N as he held his hands up defensively. “I’ve never seen this Enid girl anyway. Heard of her but not seen her”
“Yeah well she’s on Rick’s good side for the most part. The dude doesn’t know she climbs the walls…and that Carl follows her and I just. Stay in here”
His kid was jealous, he could sense that instantly. But again, he doesn’t know until he just says something.
“Either take the risk or be disappointed, bud” Daryl pats him on the back as Y/N gave him a saddened look.
“I’m scared though”
“It’ll be alright. Whatever happens. It’ll be alright, son”
The next day, Daryl went to talk about such with Rick without his kid knowing that he was doing so. Since to Y/N’s surprise, everyone knew about his crush on the Grimes kid…except the kid himself.
Rick stopped watching a certain someone from the window when he heard the front door open. “Who is it?”
“Were yea expecting someone other than me?” Daryl scoffs shutting the door behind him watching his friend move away from the window. “No seriously. Who were yea expecting?”
“Just doing my job. Keepin’ an eye on people” Rick brought himself into the kitchen to get a bottle ready for Judith as it was almost time for her to wake from her nap. “What’s up, Daryl?”
“It’s about our boys” He says in a calm manner when joining him in the kitchen, but even with the calmness it still lead to worry coming on Rick’s face.
“What happened to our sons? Did Carl fight that Ron kid? Or did Y/N try leavin’ again”
“No to both of those. But it’s mainly about Y/N’s feelings”
Rick froze a moment as he screwed on the bottle cap before letting the confusion continue on his expression.
“Gonna have to explain more”
“Everybody knows Y/N likes your son”
“Okay, who doesn’t like Carl? He’s a great kid”
I’m about to lose my shit Daryl squints trying to read the oblivious expression on his friend’s face. “Rick. Seriously?”
“Seriously what?”
Guess the Grimes have that in common, being fucking clueless to things like love. Daryl wasn’t going to have it and would have to bring this type of conversation up again.
But in the mean time, Y/N was slowly building up the courage to talk to Carl. He climbed over the wall to follow after him wherever he was going and it didn’t take long to find the young Grimes…and what he was doing.
The archer flinched from his spot by the window which was a habit of his, Rick did it for different intentions earlier. He mainly reacted to the front door shutting harshly, immediately noticing Y/N running into the house.
“Hey! What’s wrong?!”
“Nothing! The world is a terrible fucking shithole that I don’t want to be apart of” Y/N yells back only for Daryl to get annoyed and ignore the boundary his son has where if he was upset, then Daryl can’t just barge in on the matter he has to approach it gently. But given he almost broke the front door, he wasn’t having it.
“What happened? Seriously. You can’t just shut out and curse”
“Why can’t I just fucking internalize my feelings for a fucking night! I don’t want to talk about it” Y/N snaps about to shut the door to the basement apartment the two stayed in under the Grimes’s residence. But Daryl caught his foot in it.
“Nah. We’re either talking about it or I’m stickin’ with yea until you calm down”
“I’m not going to fucking hurt myself!”
“STOP CURSING” Daryl snaps. “And how do I know you won’t when that’s what yea used to do back in the prison after we found yea”
He didn’t know he knew. But honest? How can you hide something that serious in the apocalypse? Even the old world there would be an anxious aura whenever something as serious as that happened. Or at least Daryl isn’t blind to stuff like that.
“I’m…I’m not gonna do anything…I just wanna stop thinkin’ about it” Y/N frowns pressing his back against the wall and slumping to the floor. “I wish I didn’t see it”
Daryl frowns bringing himself to kneel to his level and not asking, but gave his kid a look to tell him at his own speed.
“Can we just…talk about it in the morning”
“As long as I know you’re not gonna do anythin’, bud.” Daryl sighs. “And that if anythin’ during the night yea come and get me”
“…Okay”
It didn’t take long for the anxiety to consume Daryl during the night. He already has issues sleeping and now this? He didn’t want anything to happen to his kid and given their conversation from the other day…it could only be revolved around that. Or something REALLY bad happened that has nothing to do with it.
But the next morning, without the usual having breakfast with the rest of their group. Y/N leaned up against the wall as Daryl stood in the kitchenette.
“Did yea sleep?”
“No…I should’ve just known” Y/N frowns bringing his attention to his feet. “Like. Why did I even bother trying to build up the courage to tell him if I was just gonna see what I saw”
“You told Carl?”
“No, but I saw him and Enid kiss”
“Oh…oh, I’m sorry kid” Daryl didn’t know what else to say as Y/N didn’t know what he wanted to hear frankly. “Somebody will come”
“Oh like that’s possible”
It is. Given Daryl and Aaron are recruiters and there are other fishes…in this apocalyptic sea. But this was recent and he wanted to feel his feelings in private.
Even if he doesn’t know the other side of the story.
________
The two hide within a tree trunk to avoid walkers and whoever else was outside the walls. Enid brought herself close as Carl tensed slightly when looking her in the eye to try and read what she was instigating.
Then when her lips pressed against his and the sound of shuffling happening, Carl pulled away giving her a confused look.
“Uh”
“Oh. Shit I overstepped”
“No—Well. Yes. Sorry I just…don’t like yea in that way”
“Oh okay…” Enid wasn’t entirely surprised, her being in a similar situation as another where you have to take the risk and either be disappointed never knowing or at least knowing feeling either way. “So…this is a bit awkward”
“Yeah. But like. I care about you and I don’t want this to like. Ruin the chance of being friends”
“It’ll be awkward yea. But no I agree.” Enid reassured him with a smile. “Just friends”
As they exited the tree once the coast was clear, the two started to head back toward the wall they scaled and Enid had to know.
“Who…do you like?”
“Do I have to like someone?”
“No”
“Well I do. I just had to make sure”
Enid rolls her eyes followed by a laugh as Carl drops down beside her. “Imma guess if you don’t say anything”
“I’m not gonna be surprised if you get it on the first guess”
“Oh, so it is Y/N? Cuz that’s who I was thinking of. Ron doesn’t seem like your type…whatever that is”
“Clearly Y/N”
“Right”
________
“Daryl, we need to talk”
The archer is always disturbed when working on his bike and there’s only two people he doesn’t care for the disruption, Rick ain’t one of them.
“I’m busy”
“It’s about our sons”
Daryl sets his tools down giving Rick his undivided attention, noticing the tense expression on his face which lead to his worry but he was better at masking it.
“What happened?”
“Carl just told me he likes your son”
Holy shit Daryl instantly stood to his feet when he heard such and thought how did Rick find this out or what more could’ve happened that didn’t involve either of them. “Okay?”
“Like. Fuck how do I go about this?!”
Oh. Great. “Rick, are you like. Upset by it or—-“
“NO! NO NO NO.” Rick scrambled a bit before taking a deep breath. “No. Just surprised is all. I don’t know what to do about the information I was given”
“Be happy for our kids? But…Uh. Wait. What did Carl tell yea exactly?”
“That he likes both males and femal—“
“About Y/N”
“That he likes Y/N a lot and that he’s been avoiding him. Asking me what he should do but I don’t know!”
Part of Daryl wanted to smack Rick given he has more parenting experience than the archer but he’s this clueless. But another part worried about his kid.
“You’ve seen Y/N today?”
“No, neither has Carl or frankly anybody”
Not like Y/N would go very far since when they first brought him in he was a bit skittish, sure. But as Daryl took him in and the group made him feel like he was a part of something…he never wanted to leave that. He simply has his moments he would rather be alone but he’ll always come back.
And he does.
Daryl waited by the gate for most of the day thinking about the route he’ll take to go find Y/N if he doesn’t come back soon. But when the gates were pushed open, letting said individual in as he was instantly met with a glare.
“Uh. I brought game?” Y/N tried to soften the tension looming as he held up a rabbit that he caught.
“You gotta go talk to Carl”
“Why?” Y/N scoffs carrying his rabbit toward their home as Daryl grabbed his shoulder carefully pulling them back. “What! Why do I have to?! His answer was loud and clear”
“His answer wasn’t loud and clear. You gotta trust me and go talk to Carl.”
“Okay…and what do I get if I do it?”
A boyfriend what fucking else do yea want?! Daryl thought as he knew where Y/N was about to go which made him a tad annoyed.
“You tell Carol.”
“Do I have to go fucking first?”
“No, and language” Y/N grins deviously before tossing the rabbit at him and making his way to the Grimes’ residence but up to where Carl’s room was.
The time from the gate to the door of Carl’s room, made him anxious. He didn’t want to talk about it with him. Didn’t want to be rejected face to face…but right before Y/N knocked on the door, he heard his name being called from the stairs…noticing Carl had gotten home right after he did.
“Oh uh. This is awkward”
“But good. I gotta talk to you”
Huh? Y/N brought himself close but enough for distance even if Carl did take a step forward to break it and some part of Y/N kept him cemented.
“You’ve been avoiding me…and it’s got me thinking about what happened recently with uh. Me and Enid”
“Oh I—“
“I knew someone had ran off in the distance. Too fast to be a Walker or at least we don’t know any variants that can run uh…Just. I knew you saw what you saw”
“Oh…and I’m guessing you’re confirming—-“
“No!…No. it’s not like that at all…I do like Enid. But it was never in that way” Carl started to become a bit bashful as the rise of a pink hue came to his cheeks. “Really never was”
Now Y/N was feeling a bit of the heat rise to his cheeks as he thought this was his window. It is! Just say—-
“I like you”
“I like you”
That left the two to laugh at the unison as Carl instantly brought Y/N into his embrace, feeling him tighten his grasp on the Grimes. The two held onto each other for a while…until the time felt right to take that next step. Even if for the time being it was a kiss on the cheek from Y/N to Carl because they might not know, but the two knew the dads looming on the first floor.
“You think he confessed”
“Yeah they are definitely sucking face right about now if they ain’t talkin’”
“WHAT”
“Calm your tits, Rick. They’re young love let them enjoy themselves…” Daryl starts as it started to get a bit too quiet. “BUT NOT TOO MUCH”
“FUCK OFF DAD” Y/N yells downstairs as that was their cue to leave the two alone for a bit.
Enjoy their happiness for themselves
We need a 3 of no mercy please I beg of you
No Mercy Part III
Many requests for this 😊 The love-hate-story between Y/N and Negan's daughter continues... Everyone is 18 or over.
WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, angst, abortion theme, unprotected sex
You had been back in the sanctuary for a few weeks now. After your period failed to start and the nausea continued, you panicked and took a count. Your periods had never been regular, but now you came to the conclusion that you hadn't bled in at least eight or nine weeks. The last time you had bled was before you had slept with Carl for the first time, that time behind the horse stables. Anyone who wasn't completely naive could have figured it out sooner: You were pregnant. You sat in your room and sobbed desperately. Under no circumstances must your father find out about it.
No, you could not have this baby. There was not even a doctor in the sanctuary since your father had burned the last one alive. In your distress, you sought out Amber, who - at least that was your assumption - knew about such things. "Amber, I'm pregnant," you said straightforwardly.
She looked at you with widened eyes. "It's not really true, is it? You're kidding."
"No, it's true." You burst into tears.
Amber quickly locked the door to her room. "Okay, and who's it from?"
"It's Carl's. Carl Grimes," you confessed, embarrassed.
"What!" exclaimed Amber in horror. "Oh my god, Y/N. Negan is going to flay you and Carl alive."
"He mustn't know, Amber, I can't have this baby!" Full of panic, you clutched her thin wrist. "What can I do?"
"How do you feel about Carl?" inquired Amber sympathetically. "Was it just a one-night stand, or...?"
It took you a long time to answer. "No, it was... more. I hated him like hell in the beginning," you said pensively. "We still had sex on and off, and it was great. But then... Carl is... he's so special. I think maybe I've grown to like him. A little bit, at least." Sheepishly, you played with the bed covers. "But it's not mutual, unfortunately," you then added sadly.
"Too bad," was all Amber said, "Carl's got guts, and he's handsome, too. It was very brave of him to break into the Sanctuary back then. He'll make a good leader someday." You had never thought of it that way - to you, Carl's action had just been stupid and careless. Now you realized that Amber was right and how courageous Carl was; even all the other times he had rebelled against Negan, even though Negan was much older and stronger than Carl was. He had never let your father intimidate him. Not even when Negan wanted Rick to cut off his arm. "Didn't you use any protection?"
"Well, sometimes not," you evaded, hiding from her that Carl's breeding kink had been part of your mutual attraction. You yourself had loved the feeling of him lavishly spilling his seed into you, and now you were receiving the reward. Somehow you had assumed that nothing would happen. Which had been stupid, of course.
„How long is it since your last period?“
"More than two months," you mumbled.
Amber took a deep breath. "That's too late for the morning-after pill. Way too late."
Frantically, you considered, "What other options are there?"
"Without a doctor? Hardly any, unless you want to die trying to get an abortion," Amber clarified to you relentlessly.
You cried again. "But there must be something! Herbs, something! Wait." An idea had occurred to you. You walked over to Amber's closet and pulled out a wire coathanger. "I saw this in a movie once. You have to help me."
"No, Y/N. Oh no. Forget it," Amber fought back. "You're going to bleed to death, and it's my fault."
"Like you just said, Amber. My father is going to kill me. Please," you pleaded.
She relented against her knowledge. "All right, same time tomorrow, here. Katya will be back soon. And I can't promise you it'll work, and it'll be painful as fuck." You nodded in embarrassment and fear. The danger of dying during an amateurishly performed abortion was real.
***
You went back to your room and wept. You didn't want to abort Carl's baby, that was the truth. You constantly saw Carl's cute face in front of you, heard his mocking remarks, felt his hot breath on your skin. You were dreaming of him. You were longing for him. You might as well admit it to yourself: You loved Carl Grimes, and you missed him sorely. And now you were carrying his child, and that couldn't be. You'd probably never see each other again, and either way Carl wouldn't want a baby with you, let alone a relationship.
But everything turned out differently than planned. When you went to dress yourself the next morning, your father burst into your room without knocking as you stood there in your underwear. Horrified, you stared at him, unable to cover yourself. Negan's gaze immediately captured your swollen breasts and ever so slightly bulging belly. His eyebrows rose, then he averted his eyes in bewilderment. "Come to my office immediately when you are dressed," he ordered expressionlessly.
You were standing in front of him with a palpitating heart. "Whose is it?" he demanded to know harshly. "It can only have happened in Alexandria, you are already starting to show, and you were vomiting on the ride over here." Angrily, he marched back and forth.
"It... it's from Carl," you said in a low voice.
Your father eyed you, stunned. "Please what?" he then shouted. "You were spreading your legs for the future serial killer? Unbelievable," he laughed bitterly.
"No, it wasn't like that, it..."
"What do you mean? Did he rape you?" he asked lurkingly.
"No!" you said firmly. If Negan believed that, he wouldn't rest until he had killed Carl. "No. It was... consensual." Your face reddened.
„Fuck it“, Negan ruffled his hair, perplexed. "Get your bag and come along," he then ordered, grabbing your arm and dragging you outside. There he gestured for you to get in the car.
"But what..." you started.
"We're driving to Alexandria," Negan announced grimly. "Let's see what fucking Carl Grimes has to say about this. And Rick, under whose roof you've been living." The ride passed in silence, except that once again you felt nauseous. You were tense and anxious, unable to gauge what your father was up to and how things would proceed. Finally, the Alexandria gate appeared in front of you; the guards immediately got into position when they recognized Negan. He got out and raised his hands in the air. "I want to talk to Rick," he demanded. "You see, I'm not armed." It wasn't long before Rosita and Daryl escorted you both to Rick's house. You hadn't seen Carl in so long, your heart pounded excitedly and somehow you felt an anxious anticipation mixed with fear.
Rick gazed open-mouthed at you and asked you into the kitchen in a reserved manner. "I thought we had everything settled for now," he said icily to Negan. "So why are you stalking us again?"
"Well, it's not my fault," Negan replied aggressively. At that moment, Carl entered the kitchen, closely followed by Enid. They held hands, and you quickly looked down at the floor. You never thought it would hurt so much, although you should have expected him to find another girl. He probably loved Enid - he had never loved you. Carl looked from one to the other in surprise.
"I don't understand," Rick said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Well, it's about Y/N and Carl," Negan replied with a cutting tone. "I assumed Y/N was safe under your roof! You personally guaranteed her safety!“
Rick began to look more and more confused. To him, you seemed to be in good health; a little pale, perhaps. "Enid, go home. Carl, you stay here," he then ordered in a bossy voice. Enid kissed Carl goodbye and disappeared with her head down. "Now speak up," he then turned to Negan. "Will you stop talking in riddles?" You and Carl exchanged a cautious, uncertain look.
"These two here got it going!" accused Negan at him. "Carl fucked my daughter. In your house, Rick! Don't tell me you didn't notice!"
Rick was scratching his head, perplexed and surprised. "I actually didn't, you'll have to take my word for that, Negan," he then muttered. "I just noticed that they liked each other - even if they denied it. But what the hell, they're teenagers, it's only normal for them to engage in sexual experiences, you can't help it, and..."
"Y/N is pregnant!" yelled Negan. "Your scumbag of a son made her a baby!"
Now Rick was left speechless, and Carl looked completely shocked, while you started crying miserably. No one wanted this baby but you, and everyone saw you and the pregnancy as a problem, an inconvenience. Rick grabbed Carl's wrist. "Carl! Is this true?" he asked sharply.
Carl widened his eye, overwhelmed. "I, uhm, well... it's true, we had sex." His cheeks were bright red with bashfulness.
"And did you use protection, yes or no?" barked Rick angrily, while Negan watched the whole thing with his eyebrows furrowed.
Meanwhile, Michonne entered the kitchen. "What's going on?" she wanted to know in wonder. "What's he doing here?" Accusingly, she pointed at Negan.
Rick paid no attention to her, he focused on Carl. "Yes or no, Carl?" he insisted.
"No," the latter admitted sheepishly, looking down at his shoes.
"You've got to be kidding me," Rick groaned, letting go of Carl and sinking into a chair, cradling his face in his hands. "Carl and Y/N slept with each other without using protection, and now Y/N is pregnant," he informed Michonne. "Carl, are you fucking nuts?" he then hissed in anger. "We did give you the talk on time, didn't we?"
"Now don't all pick on Carl," you timidly spoke up. "It's just as much my fault."
"Yes, indeed, it is!" your father snapped at you. "Are you too dumb to know about condoms?"
"I didn't think you'd be so irresponsible and stupid," Rick stated, shaking his head, looking at you and Carl in disbelief.
"Stop arguing now," Michonne intervened. "That's pointless. What's more important is how to proceed. How far along are you, Y/N?"
"I don't know," you said shyly. "Maybe by the tenth week?"
"We could ask Denise if abortion is still an option," Rick reasoned.
"And take the risk that Y/N won't survive it? Your Denise is not a surgeon," Negan objected. Carl remained silent.
"Y/N, what do you want? And Carl, what do you say?" Michonne looked from one to the other. "You both made this baby, after all."
"I... would it be possible for me to talk to Y/N alone?" asked Carl hesitantly. Your hands grew sweaty with stress.
Rick and Negan looked at each other. "Alright," Negan then conceded suspiciously. "But only where I can keep an eye on you guys."
The two of you went outside and stopped in front of each other not far from the kitchen window. "Ummm... so you're pregnant," Carl noted uneasily, nibbling his fingernails. So now was the time he would tell you that he felt nothing for you - nothing positive, anyway - that his heart belonged to Enid and he wanted nothing to do with the baby.
You tried not to cry as you said, "Yes. And before you start doubting it, yes, it's yours, Carl!" you added, hurt. "I have not been with anybody else but you."
He looked at you in amazement. "I know," he said, touching your cheek lightly. "I... I thought about you a lot when you were gone," he then explained, suddenly looking deep into your eyes. "Y/N, I know you don't feel the same way, but I missed you," he said softly.
"And... and Enid?" you asked in a squeaky voice.
Carl sighed. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again," he said unhappily. "Enid's awesome, but... I simply can't forget you."
"Carl, I like you," you blurted out, starting to sob after all. "I like you a lot, in fact."
He smiled delightedly. Carefully, he took your hands. "Could you imagine being with me? That we'd have the baby together?" You nodded tearfully. "Then come on, we'll tell them."
"You guys want to do what?" exclaimed Rick.
"We want to be together," Carl confirmed. "In fact, we like each other. I'm going to break up with Enid, and I'm going to take care of my kid."
Michonne, Rick and Negan looked at each other, wordless and baffled. Negan was the first to regain his composure. "All right, you're both coming with me to the Sanctuary then," he decided.
"That's out of the question," Rick immediately objected.
"We don't even have a doctor," you said reproachfully to your father. "And I want to stay here with Carl." Negan shook his head stubbornly. "We're not coming with you," you said petulantly.
"Y/N needs medical attention," Michonne pointed out.
Negan pondered. "All right," he finally relented. "Actually, I don't want the future serial killer in Sanctuary either," he growled with a sideways glance at Carl, who was nervously fiddling with his flannel shirt. "He's just stirring everyone up. But for now, just until Y/N gives birth. Then we'll see." Carl and you fell into each other's arms relieved.
**
Later in Carl's room, you finally gave in to your desire for each other and embraced. Carl stared raptly at the tiny bulge of your belly. "It's hard to believe you're really pregnant by me," he said astounded, touching your belly.
"Did you fuck Enid?" you wanted to know. The thought of it hurted you.
"Let's not talk about Enid," Carl dodged the question and kissed you again. "I'll talk to her first thing tomorrow. I hope she understands."
And I hope it doesn't turn out that Enid is also expecting now, you thought darkly.
"Carl, if... if we have sex now like we always do, it could harm the baby," you remarked fearfully.
He gave you a naughty grin. "Also, even though we're both into hard sex, we can do it gently for a while," he suggested. You kissed and moved to the bed, where you slowly undressed and caressed each other. Carl looked at you lovingly. "I've missed you so much," he whispered, as he lay carefully on top of you.
You couldn't wait to feel him inside you. "I missed you too," you said, spreading your legs for him. „I want you so badly, Carl.“
"Yeah, I can tell," Carl teased you, "You're soaking my entire bed right now." He propped himself up on his elbows and tenderly penetrated you, looking deep into your eyes while slowly pounding in you.
You arched your back in delight as he eagerly thrusted into you. "Oh, Carl," you breathed into his ear. "It's so good." Carl looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, all slick with your moisture and his precum. It was an incredibly arousing sight. He unfolded your labia with his index finger and changed his position slightly, so that his pelvis rubbed against your clit, driving you completely insane. "Carl," you whimpered, kissing his neck and ear. "Faster, please," you gasped, and Carl increased his pace until he was ramming his cock into you fiercely and you cried out as you cum and reared up under him, wrapping your legs around him.
Carl gave you two more orgasms so that you were just a quivering, begging mess, then he moaned loudly. "I'm cumming," he sighed, and his cum filled you warmly, there was so much that it immediately leaked out of you again, staining the already wet and sticky sheets.
You lay together relaxing and stroking each other. Carl's heart was beating a fast rhythm, and you remembered the day when you feared he was dead. "I was really afraid then that you were dead or turned," you said softly. "I couldn't have stand it."
"And I thought you really hated me and didn't reciprocrate my feelings," he admitted. "Yet I was already in love with you. I couldn't admit it, though." He smiled wryly.
"Carl?" you asked after a while, as you lay snuggled together, enjoying your intimacy and being so close to each other.
"Huh?" he replied sleepily.
"May I see your eye?"
He sat up, suddenly appearing to be tense. "Um... why?" he hesitated.
"Well, now that we live together and everything... you don't have to hide it from me anymore," you said softly. „It's certainly not good for the scar if you keep it bandaged at night, just because you're shy in front of me.“
With shaky fingers, Carl fiddled with the bandage, then dropped his hands again. "Y/N? Please, don't say anything spiteful about it," he pleaded. "Whether you really mean it or not, I don't care. Just don't do it." You had never before seen Carl so vulnerable. "I know it looks gross."
You hugged him tightly; you wanted him to feel safe with you. "Carl, it doesn't matter. I don't care what it looks like. It’s ok." He precariously took off the bandage without glancing at you. Well, it wasn't the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, but it was part of him, and you didn't mind. You would soon get used to the sight, and then it would just be normal. Not beautiful, not hideous, just normal.
"It... it looks nasty, doesn't it?" he asked anxiously.
"It does look bad ass," you said honestly. "But seriously, I don't give a fuck, and I don't think it's ugly. I love you, Carl.“ You pressed your smooth cheek against his right, maimed one.
He hugged you back with relief. "I love you too, Y/N." His lips touched yours.
___
Taglist:
@genshinsbiggestsimp
How do you feel about step brother Carl..
Stepbrother Carl headcanons
Just some random headcanons. Everyone is 18 or over.
WARNINGS: smut, nsfw
When your mom told you that the two of you were going to move in with Rick und his two kids, you weren't thrilled. You didn't want a new dad (yours had died long ago, right at the beginning of the apocalypse) and you didn’t want a stepbrother and a stepsister also. Your mom looked at you sadly. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone, Y/N. Can't you understand that? And Rick is a sweet, decent guy. You like him, don't you? He doesn't want to be your father, just your friend." Yes, you already liked Rick, as well as you liked Carl, but that doesn't mean you wanted to live with them and a cry baby!
However, it turned out that you and Rick got along fine. The same was true for you and Carl - you definitely got along too well.
The next problem was not far away, however. You had only been living with Rick for about three weeks when your mom caught you and Carl watching a movie on the couch in the living room, cuddling under a plaid. A serious talk ensued, in which your parents made it clear that a relationship between the two of you was undesirable. "You are too young for this, you would break up again, and then the harmony of the family will be permanently destroyed. Please do not do it," Rick said insistently.
Carl and you were not dating at that time, but you were in the process of falling in love with each other. Then you resisted it for a while and tried dating other people, but your feelings for each other were too strong. Carl and you felt very miserable. You soon refused to date anyone else; you just wanted Carl. Him or nobody. You often cried in your room at night when he was seeing Enid, and then got terribly angry with him, shouting at him and ignored him. Carl couldn't stand that for long. So you met secretly in lonely places somewhere in Alexandria, sometimes out in the woods, to make out (as if you weren't living under the same roof!).
On a road trip, Carl scavenged condoms, and you two had your first time shortly after in the haystack of the horse stables. You were both super nervous, but it was wonderful and loving, and you've been doing it regularly ever since - even though it's almost never possible to do it at home unless your parents are away for an extensive period of time.
Once Glenn caught you naked in the haystack, but promised to keep his mouth shut.
Again and again you found excuses that you supposedly had to do something together, and so your parents did not suspect anything at first.
But it became more and more difficult to hide your feelings for each other, and finally the inevitable happened: Your parents came home too early when you were taking a shower together and had left the bathroom door unlocked. You thought you would be alone with Judith until the evening. Your mother walked in just as Carl was fucking you eagerly from behind, moaning loudly. Rick stood in the hallway looking utterly shocked. He hadn't expected Carl to actually have sex yet. Your mom, though, had a suspicion. "Get dressed and then come into the kitchen," Rick ordered tersely.
There was a terrible fight where you all yelled at each other, and ultimately Carl got his way. He said to his dad, "We're over 18, you can't forbid us anything anymore, and if you don't accept that we love each other and are in a relationship, we'll go to Hilltop and live together there, and you will rarely ever see us." In response, your parents reluctantly gave in and allowed you to officially share your bedroom and bed.
Despite their concerns, you two are even closer now and love each other more than anything. They have realized that you simply belong together. ❤❤❤
Hi, this ask is just to tell you that it seems someone has posted your fic "Needy" with Minho in Wattpad, idk if you're aware but here's the link:
https://www.wattpad.com/story/344811050?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=mal-lunar-28&wp_originator=jFJA02WAS%2B0orXTEckX6kt7XYHerUYucbpaScOL%2FQma%2B3X6sVcca0iAD1V0TAqGfPkbyq80LcbAy2sAFhath6sT1ESRDnhTCJtnS10nKM4IjqNLdworhYBT%2FDnJxy4lK
Thank you for letting me know sweet anon!!
‼️ Attention: plagiarism, please report user @ yunguu on wattpad‼️
Can everyone who sees this post reblog and help me spread awareness? I really would appreciate it <3
Here’s the link to this post and here’s the link to the fic I’ve written, it is copied word by word. They even copied my intro lmao.
I really need your help to report this account before they can go around and steal works of other writers, I don’t have a wattpad account but I’ll open one and will do the same! Please report and reblog to spread word, I’d highly appreciate it!!
star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 15
pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader
synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him.
there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you. hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.
genre:friends to lovers, so much angst, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden romance, slowburn (!!!) soulmate au (kind of), star-crossed lovers
warnings:cursing, mature content, fancy drinking, mutual pining, sexual tension, so much angst, kissing, making out, dirty talk, fingering, grinding, dry humping, dom!hyunjin, jealousy, more angst
word count:35K (ik the wc makes it feel v long but it’s really not that much haha)
a/n: im so excited to be coming back with this huge of a chapter for you guys. so much goes down and im insanely excited to share this next phase of my story with you. its v long so pls get comfortable with a blanket and snacks. I would recommend rereading the last chapter, if you can! thank you for still being here.
i recommend that you can listen to my star lost playlist here!
important: all works are fiction, and do not in any way represent the real personalities or real people, they exist only as faceclaims, and are fictional characters.
masterlist
He had fucked up. Even in the dimly lit drive-in theatre, the guilt on his face was evident. Hyunjin had never looked this devastated.
“I need to talk to you”
That’s what he had said. The gnawing feeling in your gut got worse. Those words together, in that order, was never a good sign. You knew as much, and you knew whatever he had to tell you was going to be something bad.
“Why did you leave in the middle of the film?” You asked, gaze darting between him and your friends.
Yuqi was staring wide-eyed, watching this unfold, soda cup clutched in her hands, and Felix…he looked beyond irritated.
The movie could still be heard all the way over here. You weren’t too far from the projection screen, and the speakers were right next to you. It was a horrible place to be having this conversation, but you couldn’t wait.
What was he holding back?
You’d always felt the safest around Hyunjin, but every breath between you right now was uncertain. He was fidgeting, sliding the silver ring off and on his finger.
“I was on my way back to you when—” Hyunjin paused, and the veins in his neck were prominent as he strained to be heard over the movie, “—when Felix found me. He wanted to talk”
Keep reading
Baby's First Undercover Op- Agent Gibbs (Gibbs X Reader)
Warnings: Mentions of- sex, trafficking, shootings, death, inappropriate touching, assault. Please do not read if anything that was mentioned above may or could be triggering!!
Description: Gibbs and yourself go undercover to catch a criminal, only for it to get a bit steamy with Gibbs protecting you. (Fluff with some light smut mixed in for those who dream about kissing our grey haired, blue eyed man :P)
Gibbs reached around as he tried to grab the strap of his sling. He turned around in a circle a few times, frustrated that his hand was just out of reach. You sat at your desk watching him amused as he fumbled around.
"You won't like what I do if I catch you laughing, Y/LN." He called as he finally caught his strap, his back turned to you.
You quickly wiped the smirk off your face as he turned around and you looked at him attentively.
"What do we got?" He asked, looking at you as he strapped his sling together.
You stood up and clicked a button on the remote, the TV flashing up to your victims face. "Well, boss, it seems that our victim was part of a gentleman's club called Tate's, which sells services to politicians, head of agency departments, along with a lengthy list of millionaires. We got in touch with Emmerson. Even though he's been out of the club for a decade, he is still friends with a few people on the inside. He says there is a function this weekend where the rumored service is little girls."
"Looks like we'll be going undercover, boss?" McGee asked.
Gibbs nodded, "Not we, McGee, just me." He took a sip of his coffee as the team looked at him and then down to his arm in the sling.
"Um, wouldn't it be better to send Tony or myself in?" Ziva questioned.
"Nope."
"Why's that, boss?" When Tony got no reply, he asked another question. "With you injured, wouldn't it be easier to send someone else in just in case something happens, though I know you would be more than fine defending yourself if anything happened." Tony droned when he caught Gibbs raising his eyebrows after Tony brought up his injury.
Gibbs chuckled and then started walking away. "Y/LN, find Abby to get some IDs for this weekend."
"IDs? I thought it was just you?" You asked puzzled.
He turned around, still walking. "Yep. Need one for you and I. Ya know, since I'm injured." He waved his injured arm and then turned back around, heading to the elevator.
"Well, well, well, it looks like our baby is going to be going undercover for the first time." Tony said, looking at you with a smile. You were the baby of the team, so everyone had started calling you baby, even Gibbs.
"Yeah, but with Gibbs." McGee said, Tony's smile changing into a frown.
"Oh god, this will be interesting."
-------------------------- ~~ ----------------------------
You pulled the red satin dress down over your body, the smooth, cool fabric giving you slight goosebumps. Pushing your slightly curled hair to the side, you put on your earrings and then headed out the door back to your office chair to grab your bag and coat.
"Whoa..." You heard as you made your way to your desk. You looked up to find the team staring at you.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing." Tony says.
"It's just that you look really good." Ziva said, giving you a small grin.
You looked down at your outfit. Red laced heels, red satin off the shoulder dress with a slit up the side exposing your right leg almost to your hip accessorized with a silver necklace and chunky hoop earrings that were GPS trackers that Abby gave you. You had slightly curled your hair that was waved over one shoulder.
"Let's get rolling." Gibbs called out as he brushed past you in an all black tux -no sling.
You quickly grabbed your bag and ran to the elevator. It was quiet as the elevator made its way down until Gibbs flipped the emergency off switch, haulting the elevator.
"Gibbs?"
"Name." His back still to you.
"Leslie Givens. Twenty-seven years old. Graduated from Clarkson University, majored in fashion. Own my own business down in Norfolk. Married for two years."
"Good, good." Flipping the switch, the elevator hummed alive again, and you eventually made your way out of the agency and into the car.
After a half hour of driving, you arrived at the venue to see multiple couples walking through the door. You took a shaky breath and went to head out when the door locked. You turned around to look at Gibbs questioningly. "Um, you're missing something." He pulled out a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a diamond bracelet.
Pulling it out, he locked it around your wrist. You stared down at it in shock when he cupped your face and pulled it towards him. Pushing your hair slightly to the side, he put his lips close to your ear. "Someone's watching us already." He put a finger in your ear, and you felt an ear comm slide in gently. He patted down your hair and gave you a small wink.
He opened the car door and headed over to your side to open yours. He grabbed your hand and helped you out, closing the door behind him.
You headed inside after you gave your keys to the valet and got in line with the bouncer at the front checking in names. You quickly reached the front, Gibbs putting his hand on the small of your back. "Tom Givens with Leslie Givens."
After the bouncer approves you through, Gibbs pulled you closer to him as you walked through the doors. He nodded to the bar, and you smiled as he walked over to grab a drink. You walked around the room smiling as you surveyed for anyone out of place. "Don't you look ravishing tonight." A gentleman said as you passed his table. He got up from his seat, blocking your path.
Before you could say anything, you felt a strong pair of arms circle your waist. "Doesn't she?" Gibbs voice rang out. "I'm one lucky guy, huh?" You looked up to find him smirking at the gentleman.
"Oh very. The name is Tate. I don't think we've met before." Tate reached out his hand to shake Gibbs.
"Tom Givens. This is my wife Leslie. We just moved into town. Donald Blaire is our neighbor and invited us."
"Ah, Donald! Great guy! Well, I better make sure that everything is going well since we're about to start. Find a seat and grab something to eat. Excuse me." Tate smiled brightly and shook Gibbs' hand again and gave you a wink.
Gibbs slid his hand down to yours and pulled your towards an isolated table. "Tate's our guy." He whispered as he pulled out your chair. You nodded, smiling, and took a sip of your water.
The beginning of the auction went by normally. Jewelry, cars, art, and property were the normal items up for sale.
You noticed Tate getting up out of his seat, making his way towards your table. You quickly leaned over to Gibbs and wrapped your arms around his neck, and connected your lips to his. He was shocked only for a second as his hands roamed up your body, feeling you up and kissing you back with passion. You opened your eyes as Tate passed, eyes locking, and you winked at him. He stopped for a second, smirked, and then nodded his head towards a small service door that was near the table.
A few minutes after he left, you winked at Gibbs and made your way down the hallway that the service door opened to. You tapped on your necklace to turn on the hidden camera built in, letting the team see access into the hallway.
"We're up." You heard McGee say.
"What a kiss, Y/N. Gibbs' camera gave quite a show." You heard Tony snicker in the background, and then a small slap that you figured was from Ziva.
You rolled your eyes till you made it to the end of the hallway, where it opened up to a small office. Posing seductively against the door frame, Tate smiled up at you when he noticed your presence.
He groaned when he saw you flash a bit of your lace panties, and then you made your way over to him. Your arms made their way to his chest from the back and rubbed. "I heard from Chelsie Blaire that you definitely make these nights fun." You said, lying seductively. He pushed his chair facing towards you, and you climbed on his lap, slightly grinding your pelvis against his.
You kissed and nipped his neck, allowing his disgusting hands to roam your body and pulling your dress up for you to sit more comfortably on him as he undid his zipper. "Oh baby." He muttered as you gripped his hair.
"I heard that there is something big being auctioned tonight. Is it something worth my husband's money?" You asked as you tugged his hair, making him gasp.
"Mmm, nothing I'd know of. I just help set up the venue and clients." He mutters against your skin.
"Oh?" You asked. "Well, that doesn't help me." You kneeled him in the groin and then in the head as he doubled over. Grabbing the fluffy handcuffs that were in his top desk drawer, you cuffed him to the metal pole on the wall, duct taped his mouth with what you found in his desk and made your way back down the hallway. Exiting through the service door quietly, you made your way back to your seat.
"He knows nothing. Took him out of the equation." You signed to Gibbs making him raise his eyebrows when you suddenly signed.
"Let's make our way through the back hallway." He signed back. You headed out of the venue room, and he pulled you towards him as he kissed your face and down your neck, leading you down the main hallway towards the back hallway.
Knocking into a table, Gibbs laughed as your lips disconnected. "Sorry," he called to a few employees that looked over. "I just need somewhere a little bit more private." He picked you up over his shoulder, and you flirtatiously laughed.
He walked you both down the hallway, laughing like he was a teenager in love and not hunting down a human trafficker who was also a murderer. He gently set you down and quietly walked down the hallway to a door that was slightly opened. You heard footsteps coming towards you from the room, and Gibbs swung around to push you against the wall.
He lifted you up slightly, trapping you, and you wrapped your opened leg around, him pulling him closer. He put his arm up your dress as he played with the string of your thong, and his other hand pulled down your dress slightly, exposing the top of your breast. His lips attached to yours as he grinded his hips into your hot mound, making you moan out loud against his lips as your hands pulled off his tie as you started to unbutton his shirt.
You heard a throat clear, and Gibbs pulled away and looked back to find two gentlemen staring at you, guns pointed. "What are you doing here?" One asked.
Gibbs moved his hand across your underwear line, lightly brushing over your wet clothed folds. He touched the other side of your thigh where you carried your extra gun. Your hand that was in his shirt found its way to the hidden gun in his coat.
"I asked what are you doing here." The man said.
Gibbs looked at you, then back at the men laughing. "Well, I'm just trying to find a quiet place to fuck my wife." He replied, your face turning bright red.
"Get off her and hands up. You're not supposed to be back here." The other man said, coming closer as he aimed his gun towards you.
"Yeah," Gibbs chuckled, "I don't think so." He unattached the gun from your thigh and pointed it at the man coming closer to you. A shot rang out near your head, and Gibbs pulled the trigger, taking down the man who shot as you swung the gun out of Gibbs jacket and took out the other man coming towards you, gun aimed now at Gibbs.
Setting you down on the ground and pulled up the top of your dress. "I want you guys blocking all exits and pulling everyone inside custody." He spoke into his ear comm as you both made your way into the darkened room.
You surveyed the room when you heard a grunt and something heavy drop to the ground. Quickly turning around, you saw Gibbs on the ground knocked out when you felt hands wrap around your throat from behind, their grip tightening as your gun fell to the ground. You could feel your breathing being cut off, and you took a deep breath as much as you could and then jabbed your elbow into the side of your attacker. With your other elbow, you swung it back into their diaphragm, then slammed the back of your head into your attackers face, feeling and hearing the crunch of your attackers nose connect against the back of your head.
You dived to the ground, sliding as you turned onto your back as you hoisted your gun at the attacker who was lunging at you. You lifted your leg, pushing him away from you as your hands shook in fear when you saw it was Agent Proctor, the same man who took you out to dinner the night before.
The sweet and caring guy you knew had a dark and hateful look in his eyes.
He screamed in rage as he reached for you, knocking the gun from your hands, and you watched it slide across the floor, desperately trying to move towards it. He pinned you down under him as he let out a rage filled laugh.
He held his forearm on your throat and his leg holding yours down. His hand reached for the top of your dress and exposed your chest, staring at it like a rabid animal as he kissed it. Proctor slid his hands down to the slit on your dress and reached for your underwear, and you screamed out as best as you could being choked as his fingers touched the hem of it. His fingers slid under your panties, slightly touching you, tears streaming down your face.
Suddenly, his face turned blank as a shot rang out, and his body went limp falling onto yours, and you screamed out, pushing him off of you as you crawled back into a strong pair of arms.
"Shush, you're okay now." Gibbs whispered as he rocked you back and forth. "No one will harm my baby again."
Tony and Ziva barged through the door, guns drawn to find you crying as you clung onto Gibbs.
He gently lifted you up and carried you out.
-------------------------- ~~ ----------------------------
It's been a few weeks since your undercover op, and your paperwork was being processed by the director. You had been on edge because of it, not trusting in your fellow agents, jumping at any little sound.
The team was worried about you. You had been quiet on cases, not wanting to go out to team functions. You wouldn't even go to your favourite café/bookstore with Ziva. Abby tried to get you out with her for bowling, a usual once a week destressor that you guys did.
"Y/LN, follow." Gibbs called out as his made his way to the elevator. You followed him from your desk and hopped into the elevator.
As soon as the door closed, he hit the emergency off switch and turned to look at you.
"You know, we only have one elevator in this part of the building." You said, knowing why he called you down. You nodded to his arm and laughed. "It looks like your arm has healed up pretty well, I know my weight probably didn't make it feel any better."
He just continued to stare at you.
"I know why you called me down here. I'm fine, Gibbs. I'm talking with a professional, just like the agency wants me to. I'm okay. Shook up, but okay, and with time, I will be." You crossed your arms, giving him a sad smile.
He didn't say anything. Instead, he came up to you, hesitated, and then wrapped his arms around you. You stayed like that for a few minutes before you unfolded your arms and hugged him back.
"You're the team's baby. We want to take care of you. You can always come to us if needed." Gibbs finally spoke.
You nodded, then spoke. "Thank you, I definitely will."
He took a step back and kissed the top of your head. You looked up at him, mid kiss, and he pulled back to look you in the eyes.
Gibbs looked down at your lips and licked his own, then took a step back and turned to flick the emergency off switch.
You reached out your hand and stopped him. "Gibbs..." He turned around and looked at you with a slight longing look in his eyes. You licked your lips and locked eyes with him.
It was quick, too quick to know who moved first, but you were soon wrapped up in each other's arms, lips locked in a fiery, passionate kiss.
You didn't want anyone to touch you for the past couple of weeks, but Gibbs, here now, you craved it. You want his hands everywhere, even though it was a breach of protocol, and you knew he would never want anything serious with a colleague, you still had some small amount of hope that this kiss and those touches he gave during your op, even though it was all fake, could continue.
After a few minutes, both of you pulled away to breathe, and he rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip. You instinctively opened your mouth and licked his thumb. He smirked at the thought of you placing your tongue elsewhere.
You stayed like that for a little bit before he flipped the switch and the elevator doors opened, and he walked out coolly, like nothing happened.
You leaned against the back of the elevator, willing your body to pull itself together. You tugged your clothes back into place and smoothed your hair and walked out of the elevator, and went back to your desk, catching Gibbs eyes undress you as you got within his eye sight.
You sat down and stared at him above your computer screen, his phone ringing in the background as he winked at you with a small smile playing on his lips. He picked up his phone and did his usual answering response.
He shut his flip phone. He had kept his even into the digital age of smartphones. "Gear up, we got a dead Marine at Coolidge Park." He said as he started grabbing his stuff. You all headed to the elevator, Gibbs, and yourself at the back of the elevator.
You looked at him as you pushed your backpack up higher on your shoulder. He smiled and signed, 'Dinner tonight. My place. That kiss was only the beginning.'
You smiled back in response as your hand found its way to his, and you gave it a light squeeze as the elevator door dinged open. Gibbs quickly brought your hand up to his lips, giving it a small kiss before you both let your hands go as you followed the team out.
Hoped you liked this! I kind of want to make a part two of this? I don't know, I'm in the mood to figure out what Agent Gibbs would do on a date, but I'm also content with how this ended to? Idk, if any of ya'll have any ideas, let me know! I would love to do requests one day! :) Okie, byeeeeeeeeee
Baby's Secret- An Agent Gibbs Fic (Gibbs X Reader)
Description: After keeping your relationship a secret, what will it take for Gibbs to admit your his. Read Part One here!
Dinner at Gibbs place was great, and it certainly wasn't food you both were devouring.
The next few months kept you busy with new cases, therapy sessions and at-home date with Gibbs. Gibbs wasn't one to leave his house much when he was home from work. He was stubborn, stating he goes out enough at work that he doesn't need to on his days off, and he stays with that statement no matter how much you try to change his mind.
Now you didn't mind staying home with Gibbs. It was relaxing and brought a calm over you that you needed after a stressful job, plus, some of the activities were very entertaining. But you wanted more.
As time went on, and your relationship stayed a secret from the team, due to Gibbs breaking one of his own rules, you were starting to get irritated that it didn't seem like he wanted people to know about you. On cases he always stayed a far enough distance away from you so no one could assume and reserved to checking on you when you were out of work when you got hurt. He also never expressed how he felt about you. He was a man of few words and you could feel that he cared about you when you were alone but you also know that things could be very much different as they were presented to you. And as good as he made you feel, he also equally was hurting you.
"Where are you going?" He asked six months into your relationship. It was a quiet Sunday morning, and it was gorgeous out, so you thought of going out and enjoying it.
"I'm going to the farmers market with Tim." You had answered back as you grabbed your purse and a reusable bag.
"McGee?" You could hear him getting up from his chair.
You turned around to meet his eyes, "Yes McGee, we always go to the farmers market on our days off."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. We've been doing it for the last year." You laughed.
"Oh." You walked up to him and gave him a peck on the lips, hoping his scowl would wipe away from his face, but it stayed.
"I'll be back in a few hours. See you!"
You didn't realize that day would leave to you two having to expose the very secret Gibbs had hidden for months.
"Y/N, look at this!" McGee was holding up a poster for an old video game.
"Wow, twenty dollars? I don't know if it's a steal or a rip-off." You laughed as he handed you the framed poster and reached into his wallet for cash. He paid the merchant and grabbed the poster back.
"Defiently a steal for me, the starting price online for this is $100. So where to next, Y/N?"
"There is a cute little stall selling plushies that I was eyeing, if that's okay?" He nodded, and let you lead.
You headed over to the stall when you felt a pair of eyes on you in the crowd. You scanned the area but didn't seem to find anyone out of the ordinary. You reached your stall, and you and Tim were checking out the plushies when you felt the same feeling as before on you.
"Tim, I think someone is watching us." You whispered as you held up a small plush bat.
"Really?"
You showed him the plush bat, "Yeah, while we were walking over here and now. No one seems out of the ordinary. I might just be paranoid. What do you think for Abbie?"
He nodded, and you held the bat in your arms. "I'll keep an eye out." You nodded back to him and grabbed a cute orange kitten plush.
"I think I want this!" You smiled up at him, trying to make the air a bit lighter.
His lips morphed into a smile, "Well then, I guess we better get it. It's on me since you bought me coffee."
"Aw, Tim! That's sweet of you, thanks!" You showed the merchant your items and they tallied them up and you both paid. "Alright, I think it's lunch time!"
Tim stood next to you, looking around. "I feel it too. Lets head to another stall, I don't like this feeling of being watched.
"Sure." You took a step forward when you felt and heard a sudden blast behind you. Warm air hit you, shoving your body forwards as you flew through the air, body tumbling as soon as it touched back down to the ground. Wood flew everywhere around you, as you tried to get up to look at the damage, when you felt another blast from another stall besides you as the world grew black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gibbs was frightened. He hadn't been this frightened in a long time. Two of his teammates were lying unconscious in the hospital from some lunatic setting of a bomb and your condition wasn't the greatest as he watched your heart monitor bounce around irregularly.
"Hey, boss." Tony's voice interrupted his thoughts. "McGee just woke up. The doctor is checking him over and once he's done, we can talk to him."
The doctor came out an hour later and let the team know they could go in to see their friend.
"Take your time but what happened, McGee?" Ziva asked.
"Everything was normal until we got to our last stall. Y/N said she felt like someone was watching us but she didn't see anyone, and neither did I. I felt it as we were leaving but it was too late." McGee looked worried as he explained what happened to Gibbs. "I didn't see anyone but if I had just suggested we leave right off then she wouldn't here."
"Hey, nothing could have stopped those bombs from going off." Tony said gently, seeing McGee getting worked up as his heart monitor started beeping louder.
"Bombs? There was more than one? I only remember one of them."
Ziva nodded, "There was two. One at the stall you went too and one that was behind it."
They eventually left McGee after calming him down, and headed back into the waiting room.
"Tony, see what Abby has on the bomb. Ziva, figure out what stalls McGee and Y/L/N visit every week this past year."
"Past year? McGee didn't say anything about the past-"
"Just do it, Ziva!" Gibbs barked out.
"On it."
Gibbs circled around back to your room and watched you lying there. "We'll get them for you. I won't stop until I catch those bastards. Wait for me just a little longer."
Gibbs didn't visit the hospital for the next few days as he stayed up going over every little detail they had and trying to discover new leads. You still had yet to wake up, which fueled him even more to find whoever did this to you.
"Gibbs, I found something." Abby said over the phone.
"I'll be down." He said and ended the call. "Abby has a something, let's go."
The elevators chimed and as he and the team stepped off and into Abby's lab. "Whatcha got, Abs?"
"I found something in the security cameras. The shop that Y/N went to every week was this one here," Abby pulled up the shop's logo on the screen, "it's a small business that sells stuffed animals. She had been eyeing this cat for weeks. With my findings on the surveillance and evidence from the bomb, it looked like whoever made the cat used it as a trigger. Once out of the safe zone, it set off both bombs. The second one was delayed due to the stall being moved slightly during set up." She showed a few slides of the stuffed cat, one that looked similar to her cat that had just past away, and then to a video display of how the bombs worked. "I did some more digging, and found that the maker for these stuffed animals come from a company located just out of D.C."
"We spoke with the shop keepers and they said they draw up the designs and then send them out to a group that then goes around to manufacturers." Tony said.
"Tony, Ziva, go to the factory and interview the workers."
"Wait! I can do you one better." Abby said. "I managed to hack into their surveillance cameras, courtesy of McGee, and found exactly who worked on the stuffed cats for our small business. He goes by the name, James Harrington." Abby hit a key on the keyboard pulling up his James' social media. "It looks like Y/N and him had gone out a few times but about six months ago they haven't communicated or gone out."
"Let's bring him in." Gibbs said through a clenched jaw.
Gibbs was pumped for the interrogation and with a bit of yelling and one slam of the desk, James was putty in his hands. Spilling everything from how you rejected him after a few dates, and that you were always around McGee and he was furious that you could be with anyone but him.
"She always was with him. It was disgusting to watch them together every Sunday. I had to teach her boyfriend a lesson." James spat.
Gibbs eyes narrowed at the word boyfriend. "Well lucky for you, her boyfriend gets to ruin your life. Have fun in prison, while I get to continue dating her." He got up and slammed the interrogation room door closed and headed straight to the hospital, ignoring the shocked looks from Ziva and Tony.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gibbs pulled your hand closer to him and rested his cheek on it as he clasped it in his. Ever since he got the confession out of James, he had been by your side waiting for you to wake up.
Ziva, Tony and McGee watched from the door way, Gibbs oblivious to the three of them watching which was very much unlike him.
"I can't believe they're dating. How did we miss this?" Ziva whispered.
"What I wanna know is how." McGee answered back.
Tony chuckled, "I bet it was after they went 50 Shades of Grey during that undercover mission."
"Do you think they've been together that long?" Ziva questioned. "That was like half a year ago."
"It explains why Gibbs avoids her during cases."
"But why keep it a secret?" McGee asked.
"Maybe it's because they're happy with just each other." Tony replied, watching Gibbs gently kiss your forehead.
Gibbs watched as you slept peacefully. You looked like an angel, to him you always did, but especially now because you looked so peaceful. You were always peaceful when you slept. He could watch you for hours, running his fingers through your hair as you cuddled into him, your head on his chest.
He closed his eyes, feeling days worth of no sleep catching up to him.
"Jethro?" He thought it was your voice, but how could it be? You've been unconscious for the past week.
"Jethro?" The voice was clearing up and it definitely sounded like you. But it had to be a dream, he thought.
"Jethro!" Your voice was much louder this time, enough that Gibbs' head sprang up off the mattress and his eyes opened to meet yours.
"Y/N?" Gibbs said shakily.
You were sitting up, your hand still in his, with a big smile on your face. "You've been asleep for a few hours, you're quite cute when you're sleeping." You giggled.
Gibbs looked at you in disbelief for a second before he crushed you to his chest, holding you tightly. "Don't you ever leave me like that again." He whispered. "From now on, anywhere you want to go I'll follow. I can't lose you."
You pulled him away and cupped his cheek. "Are you okay with that?"
"This whole thing has made me realized how much I care for you. I'm not letting you walk out that door again, especially when you want me there."
He watched you smile, cupped the back of your head and placed a sweet kiss on your lips.
"No more hiding?"
"No more hiding."
Taglist:
@crimeshowjunkie
@slxmw
So sorry this took forever! So many things in my life popped up half way through writing this! The second half of this doesn't do the story line justice. Let me know what you think down below!!
BABYSITTER.COM | hwang hyunjin x fem ! reader
cursing & smut & fluff & dad ! hyunjin au & more under the cut !! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
hyunjin's whole life changed when his daughter was born--it was the single best day of his life. but parenting was harder than he thought it would be, especially when he also needed to work to be able to provide for the light of his life. maybe a little help wouldn't hurt? where else could he look but the notorious 'babysitter.com' ?
WARNINGS | oral (f receiving), p in v sex, protected sex, sweet little pet names, praise, just very soft sex haha, swearing, mentions of food/eating, dad!hyunjin au, ummm i think that's it !
WORDS | 7.6k
NOTES | please enjoy dad hyune <3 sorry it took so long to publish </3 also there is a bit of a playdate crossover about halfway through hehehehe
Hyunjin was young when his daughter was born. Too young, his parents argued. But the moment his daughter was born, Hyunjin was in love. He loved her tiny hands, the shape of her small head, the way she cooed when she looked up to see him, and her beautiful eyes. So, he couldn’t understand why his, then, girlfriend handed her over after holding her for two minutes, looking utterly repulsed.
“I don’t want her.”
Hyunjin looked at her in shock, “What do you mean you ‘don’t want her?’ She’s your daughter.”
“I mean,” she snapped, looking at him coldly, “I don’t want her. I’m still young. I want to live my life. This is your fault anyways. If you’d worn a damn condom, we wouldn’t be here in the first place. Look, we’ll just give her up for adoption and—”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“What did you just say?”
“You must be fucking insane if your first thought is to give your child away. You held her for less than two minutes and you’ve already decided you don’t want her? That’s so fucked. No, you know what? I’ll take care of her. Like you said, I helped conceive her, so if you won’t do it with me, I’ll do it alone. I’m not giving her up.” Hyunjin held the small girl closer to his chest, almost as if he wanted to shield her from the hard gaze of her mother.
She scoffed, “Whatever. That’s your choice.”
Thankfully, she agreed to take care of the baby the few days she was required to stay in the hospital, but then she was gone, and it was up to Hyunjin to figure out how to raise his daughter on his own. He’d named his daughter Eunji—determined that her name, meaning kind and wise, would be her legacy. He bought books on parenting, researched which diapers were best for newborn babies, researched which formula would nourish his daughter the best, bought clothes, and all the necessary things a baby and a new parent might need.
And damn, it was hard.
There were many sleepless nights, many long days spent in his art studio still holding his daughter in his arms while in the midst of a finishing a painting for a class of his because he didn’t trust her with anyone else, many tears shed in private out of fear that he would never be good enough for his daughter. But when his mom stepped in to help, things got a little easier. Some of the stress was lifted off of his shoulders. He could work on his final projects without worrying about leaving his daughter.
But when his daughter turned three, he finally made a name for himself in the art world. He attended gallery showings and sold several paintings at each of them, he gained new clients to commission for, he was successful. But his mom became too busy traveling around with his father to visit and take care of Eunji, so Hyunjin was left to find someone else who could watch her—she wasn’t so small that he could bring her to work anymore.
Finding a suitable babysitter was harder than Hyunjin would have anticipated. Most of the people he looked at were either too young for his liking or slightly older than he was comfortable with. Their resumes were incomplete, or they didn’t have the right experience or personality he was looking for. And just when he’d thought he’d found someone, the reviews people had left were terrible.
With a heavy sigh, he looked over at where Eunji lay napping on the couch. He focused his attention back on his laptop, determined to find a babysitter he could at least interview. He checked website after website after website and still he found no one. Until he was about to give up.
He refreshed the page and a resume showed up at the top. Ln Yn. He read through it and when he found that he was satisfied with the content, he called your number.
You hadn’t been expecting a call so fast. After all, you had just uploaded your resume to the website. But you tentatively answered the phone, hoping to sound professional and put together rather than as nervous as you felt.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this, yn?” A male’s voice spoke from the other end of the line.
You nodded, even if you knew he couldn’t see you, “Yes, this is yn. How can I help you?”
“Yeah, uh, my name is Hwang Hyunjin, and I saw the resume you just uploaded to babysitters.com. I’m hoping to find someone who can watch my three-year-old daughter, Eunji, on a regular basis. Would you be interested in coming in for a brief interview so I could get to know you and you could meet her? You wouldn’t have to commit to watching her even if you decide to come in for the interview, but I would really appreciate the help and you’re the only person I’ve found so far who fits the criteria I’m looking for.”
You were silent for a moment, thinking it over. You needed the job, quite honestly. And if you got there and felt like you didn’t mesh well with the kid or the dad, you could always say no. Besides, this was the whole reason you put your resume on that website. So, you took a deep breath, “Sure! When did you want to meet?”
“Do you have any free time this afternoon?” he sounded nervous to ask you to meet so soon. But it was a Saturday. So, you weren’t doing anything.
“Yeah, I’m free all afternoon.”
“Great, would you mind meeting at my apartment at 3:00pm? I’ll text you the address.”
“That’s perfect. I’ll look forward to meeting you then,” you smiled a little to yourself, proud that you managed to get the job so soon. You said your goodbyes and then hung up the phone squealing to yourself about how you were already succeeding.
As you got yourself ready to meet Hyunjin and his daughter, Eunji, you felt yourself growing increasingly more nervous. What if Hyunjin didn’t like you when you were there in person? What if his daughter didn’t like you? What if you said the wrong thing or dressed the wrong way?
Your afternoon passed quickly as you paced nervously around your apartment. You decided to pack your bag with the toys and books you’d typically bring to entertain the children you watched, hoping it might win over Eunji and show that you were serious about wanting the job. Half an hour before you were supposed to meet Hyunjin, he texted you his address and you were on your way.
You were standing in front of his door five minutes early, giving yourself a pep talk and trying to calm your nerves. With one final deep breath, you raised your hand to knock on the door of his apartment. It only took him a few seconds to open the door and you could hear him talking to, who you assumed, was his daughter through the door.
“Hi,” he breathed out when he opened the door, offering you a half smile and leaning against the door frame. His daughter peeked out from behind his legs. “Yn?”
“Yes. You must be Mr. Hwang—”
“Please, call me Hyunjin.” He shook his head and ushered you inside.
You paused to crouch down and say hi to Eunji, who still clung to Hyunjin’s legs. “And you must be Eunji. I’m yn. It’s so nice to meet you.”
She smiled back shyly at you, waving her small hand in greeting. You stood and followed Hyunjin into the apartment, sitting down at the kitchen table.
“Do you want anything to drink?” He asked, opening the fridge and peering inside.
“Just water is fine.” You watched as he got two glasses down from the cupboard and filled them with water. “If you don’t mind me asking… how old are you? You look… pretty young, but I don’t want to assume.”
He laughed a little and shook his head, “It’s fine. I’m 25. I’ll be 26 soon, though. My ex and I had Eunji pretty young. It wasn’t planned, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love her more than anyone.”
“And is… your ex in the picture?”
“No,” Hyunjin scoffed, setting the glass of water in front of you and then settling himself across the table from you, lowering his voice slightly so that Eunji, who was playing in the living room, couldn’t hear him. “After she was born, my ex didn’t want anything to do with her. So, I took her. I was in my final few weeks of university and had a part time job as a barista at a coffee place down the road. It was a lot of work, but my mom has been helping out. She’s not able to come over anymore though. Now that I’m a little more successful in the art industry, she’s decided it’s a good time for her and my dad to do some traveling.”
You nodded, taking a small sip of your water. He had your resume printed out and laid in front of him. He seemed to take everything very seriously when it came to taking care of his daughter, which made sense to you, but it still made you nervous.
“Okay, so I hope you don’t mind if I walk through your resume with you? I’m sorry if this seems too… formal for a babysitting job, but I just really want to leave my daughter in good hands.”
“No, of course I don’t mind. It makes perfect sense,” you shook your head and folded your hands together on the table in front of you to keep yourself from fidgeting.
“Perfect. So, you’re a college student?”
“Yeah. I’m in my last year of university. I take a couple night classes as well as online classes, so if you’re looking for someone to watch Eunji during the day, I would definitely be free.”
He hummed as he read through your resume again. “It says here that you have experience nannying and babysitting. How many families have you done that for?”
“Well,” you thought back to when you started babysitting and nannying, “I’ve babysat for a lot of different families, but I’ve only nannied for three. I stopped nannying for them when they didn’t need a nanny anymore, but I was never dismissed for my character or actions.”
“And I see that all three of the families you nannied for are listed here as references. If I were to call them, they’d give you a good review?”
“I’m sure they would. They always told me they appreciated my work ethic and attitude. I’ve also been told numerous times that I’m really good with kids. I’ve always loved children. I’m resourceful and can handle multiple kinds of situations with ease. I’m easily adaptable and get along well with kids because of that. You know how unpredictable they can be.”
Hyunjin nodded along as you expressed to him your skills and qualifications. He asked you a few more questions pertaining to your resume and when he was satisfied with your answers, he pushed the paper to the side and stood up. “I’m going to get Eunji so you can meet her properly. I’d like to see how she feels about you.”
“Of course!” You agreed, standing as well and migrating to the living room.
A few moments later, Hyunjin returned, guiding his small daughter to sit on the couch next to you. “Can you say hi, sweetheart?”
“Hi,” Eunji said in a small, shy voice, smiling a little at you.
“Hi Eunji! I have some games and books in my bag, do you want to check them out?” You knelt on the floor in front of her, opening up the bag. “You might already have some of these, but if there’s anything you don’t have, you’re welcome to look at it, play with it, or whatever.”
Eunji sat down on the floor in front of you, looking through your bag and pulling out books, toys, and games she’d never seen before. She looked up at you, very seriously, “Are you good at reading stories?”
“Oh,” you leaned in to whisper, looking around as if someone other than her might hear, “I’ve been told I’m one of the best at reading stories.”
“Really? Do you do the voices?”
You put a hand over your heart, pretending to be offended that she would even ask. “Of course, I do the voices. It’d be a crime not to!”
Eunji giggled and you looked up at Hyunjin who was already smiling down at you. He could already tell you’d be a great addition to their home.
Your first day watching Eunji honestly couldn’t come fast enough. You already adored her and the prospect of getting paid so well just to take care of her certainly was an added bonus. Not to mention, Hyunjin himself was hot and you appreciated that he made you feel comfortable in his home and with him and his daughter. You could not have thought up a better situation if you tried. Being Eunji’s nanny really was the most ideal job situation you could have asked for.
You showed up at Hyunjin’s apartment ten minutes early, too eager to wait. When Hyunjin opened the door, he looked happy to see you. He stepped aside to let you come inside the apartment. “Thanks for being early, yn. Eunji’s kind of having a rough morning, so it’ll be better for both of us to be here for a few minutes so she’ll do better when I leave for work.”
As if on cue, Eunji sobbed loudly from her room down the hall. Hyunjin’s face blanched and he turned on his heel quickly to meet Eunji in her room. You followed behind him, stopping in the doorway to watch as he hugged Eunji, speaking to her softly.
“My love, I’ll be back after work like always, okay? I promise. I’ve always come back, haven’t I?”
Eunji sniffled, rubbing at her eyes as she pulled away to look at Hyunjin’s face. “Y-yeah. You always come back.”
“Right. So don’t worry that I won’t come back this time. I’d do anything to get back to you. I always will, okay?” Hyunjin smoothed Eunji’s hair with his hand, then he adjusted her shirt, straightening it on her shoulders. “You’ve already met yn, so you know she’s nice. She’ll be here until I’m done with work. So you’ll never be alone.”
“O-okay, dad.”
Hyunjin looked relieved that she was no longer crying. “Give me one more hug before I go.”
Eunji wrapped her small arms around her dad’s neck, hugging him tight. Hyunjin sighed softly, holding his daughter impossibly close, “That’s my girl.”
“Dad,” Eunji whined, giggling a little at the end, “you’re holding me too tight.”
“Sorry, my baby.” Hyunjin reluctantly let go and stood, “Why don’t you play with your toys while I talk to yn real quick?”
She nodded and sat on the floor, playing with the various dolls scattered on the ground. You moved out of the doorway to give Hyunjin room to walk past. He sighed as he tugged his jacket on and gathered his messenger bag. “I hate leaving when she’s upset like that. If she starts crying again, just give me a call. I can cancel the couple meetings I have today and put the painting off a little longer. My mom’s phone number is also on the fridge in case you can’t get ahold of me. There’s food in the pantry and the fridge. She’s allowed to watch two hours of TV, but preferably no more than that. She’s got plenty of toys and practice level books or there are board games in the closet. Hm, I think that’s it. I’ll probably be home around 6:00 or 6:30 this evening, so you don’t need to worry about dinner—I’ll make something for Eun and I when I get back.”
“Everything will be fine, Hyunjin—you don’t have to worry. I’ll be sure to call if needed, but I’m confident we’ll be just fine.” The two of you stared at each other for a moment before you pushed Hyunjin towards the front door, “You should go now before you’re late for that meeting at the art gallery. Eunji will be fine.”
Hyunjin nodded and then called for his daughter, “Eun! I’m leaving! Come say goodbye.”
The small three-year-old came running out of her room, jumping into her dad’s arms to say goodbye one more time. You watched as Hyunjin said his goodbyes, reminding Eunji to behave while he was gone. He set his daughter back on the ground and waved goodbye to you. You couldn’t help but think of how sweet and domestic everything was. One thing you were sure of: Hyunjin was a really good dad.
“What do you want to do first?” You asked as you picked Eunji up, balancing her on your hip.
“Do you wanna play dolls with me?” She asked you, eyes wide and hopeful.
“I would love to,” you smiled, carrying him back to his room. “Which doll do you want me to be?”
“You can be the doll with the purple hair and I’ll be this one. Let’s pretend we’re trapped in a tower, and then I escape the evil witch but you’re stuck there, and you ask me to help you but then I just help myself and…”
Yeah, you were going to love this job.
You watched Eunji almost everyday. It was rare for Hyunjin to have a whole day off these days. He was quickly gaining a clientele and was, thus, much busier. But you didn’t mind. You liked spending time with Eunji. You had a system that worked well. You arrived at Hyunjin’s apartment at 7:30am, played games with Eunji until lunchtime, put her down for a nap after lunch, watched an hour to two hours of television when she woke up, and then played some more until Hyunjin arrived back at home.
When she took her nap, you worked on your homework or did chores around the apartment. It wasn’t in your job description, but you knew it made Hyunjin’s life much easier, and you didn’t mind doing it for him.
But sometimes, on special days, you would take Eunji to the park to play. And on days even more special than that, Hyunjin would join you. It was one of those special days. One of those very special days.
“Thanks for letting me join you guys today. I always love spending time with Eunji. And it’s nice when you’re there too.”
Hyunjin grinned at you. “You don’t need to thank me. You’re pretty much a part of our family at this point. I-I mean, in the sense that you spend so much time with Eunji and everything. Oh, look! That’s a friend of mine, Lee Felix. Let me introduce you to him.”
You followed behind Hyunjin as he led you to another young man sitting on one of the park benches. He had his arm around the shoulders of a woman and was talking animatedly to two young girls standing in front of him. Hyunjin called out to Felix and all four people turned to look at him. One of the little girls—a sweet girl with freckles that matched her father’s—squealed and ran toward him.
“Uncle Hyunjin!”
“Hey, Hoyeon,” Hyunjin laughed as she jumped into his arms. He hugged her tightly before setting her down on the ground.
The other girl was a bit more shy when coming up to Hyunjin. She hid behind Hoyeon partially and smiled a little when she waved her small hand. “Hi, Mr. Hyunjin.”
“Hi, sweet Hana.” He opened his arms, silently asking if she wanted to hug him. She grinned widely and approached him more quickly, hugging him back.
Hyunjin stood and nodded at the woman sitting beside Felix before leaning in to hug Felix, who had stood up as well. “Hi, Felix.”
“Hey, man. Long time no see! Hoyeon was actually just asking about you. Wanted to know when she could visit you and Eunji again.”
You looked over to where Eunji was now playing with the two slightly older girls, giggling and running along behind them gleefully. You turned back to Felix and stretched your hand out in introduction. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m yn.”
“Oh?” Felix shook your hand and then smirked at Hyunjin. “Are you Hyun’s girlfriend?”
Your face felt hot as you blinked rapidly, trying to process what he had said. “N-no! I’m the nanny. I watch Eunji when Hyunjin is busy with work.”
“Ah, right, right. He did mention he had gotten a nanny recently.” Felix nodded in understanding, but his deep voice still sounded mischievous and the smirk was still evident on his face.
“Don’t pay him any mind,” Hyunjin scoffed, slapping Felix’s shoulder lightly and rolling his eyes. “He’s an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re the idiot in this friendship. Remember that time when—”
“How about you sit back down next to your girlfriend and stop trying to expose my most embarrassing moments to my daughter’s nanny.”
Felix laughed at that but shrugged and nodded before sitting down next to the woman on the bench again. “Don’t worry, Hyun. We’re leaving soon anyway. We have a dinner with my parents soon.”
Hyunjin nodded and then crouched beside the bench to talk with Felix until it was time for you to leave. You struck up small talk with his girlfriend, connecting quickly. You found out that one of the girls, Hana, was her daughter while the other, Hoyeon, was Felix’s. You also found out that she had only met Felix after their daughters became friends at school. The story left you feeling fuzzy inside and ignited the hopeless romantic in you.
“Hana! Hoyeon!” Felix called, pulling you away from your conversation. “Time to go girls!”
The two girls came running, little Eunji hurrying after them so she could say goodbye. Both of the “big girls” (as Eunji dubbed them) hugged her before turning to hug Hyunjin and wave a shy goodbye to you as well. You exchanged numbers with Felix’s girlfriend and hugged Felix (you’d quickly found he was a hugger).
After the four left, Eunji pulled on Hyunjin’s fingers to grab his attention. “Can I play for a little longer?”
“Sure, my love,” Hyunjin agreed, sitting on the bench where Felix had once sat. “But make sure you stay where I can see you.”
Eunji agreed and then made her way toward the playground. She quickly made friends with another girl her age on the playground and they set to playing, their small giggles drifting to you and Hyunjin on the wind.
“How are your studies going?” Hyunjin asked, eyes still fixed on his daughter. “I hope I’m not pulling you away from them by having you watch Eunji so often.”
“They’re going well. Don’t worry, Hyunjin. I wouldn’t agree to watch her if I didn’t think I could manage it.”
He nodded and then looked over at you, smiling gently. “I’d like to paint you someday.”
“I—you—what?”
“I want to paint you. You have a lovely smile.” Hyunjin’s gaze was sincere and his words were kind. You found it hard to resist him. You’d been watching Eunji for just over two months and you found your heart beating faster around him these days.
You knew you were catching feelings for him, and that terrified you. “Oh, well… Thanks, Hyunjin.”
“I have an unrelated question.”
“What’s your question?”
Hyunjin turned back to look at Eunji out on the playground. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Why do you want to know?” You teased, jabbing him in the side with your elbow.
He shrugged, grinning slyly but still not looking at you. “Just curious, is all.”
“To answer your question… I do not have a boyfriend.”
“A girlfriend, then?”
“No. No girlfriend either.”
“Any sort of significant other?”
You shook your head, pushing at Hyunjin’s shoulder for being so ridiculous. “No. I’m not in a relationship.”
“Interesting,” he hummed, crossing his arms. He couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his lips.
“What about you? Felix seemed to think you had one.”
He laughed a little, shaking his head and turning to look at you again. “Nah. Felix doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time. But I’m not in a relationship. I haven’t been since Eunji was born.”
“Would you like to be?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged, eyes glistening with unspoken happiness. “If I found the right person.”
You opened your mouth to say something when Eunji came skipping back to the two of you. “Dad, I’m hungry. Can we go back home and eat dinner?”
“Of course, darling,” Hyunjin scooped his daughter up, kissing her on the cheek. “Let’s go home.”
“I’m home!” Hyunjin called as he unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside, dropping his things by the door and shrugging off his jacket.
Eunji went running out of her room, “Dad! You’re back! Guess what, Dad? Yn says that I’m a big girl now!”
“What?” Hyunjin pretended to be shocked, picking Eunji up after rolling his sleeves to his elbows, “That’s not possible, you’re still my little baby!”
“No, I’m not! I’m a big girl now!” Eunji giggled, squirming in her dad’s grasp.
You watched from the living room with a smile. Hyunjin looked over at you and grinned slyly. “I may have to let yn go for putting such silly ideas in your head, then.”
“No!” Eunji pouted. “I like yn. I want her to stay.”
“Okay, okay,” Hyunjin laughed, “Then we’ll keep her around. But she better not put any more funny thoughts in your head. Especially not about being a big girl. You’re growing up fast enough as it is. Stay my baby for just a little longer.”
Eunji didn’t answer, she just wiggled out of Hyunjin’s arms and ran over to sit on your lap on the couch. Hyunjin looked a bit surprised but then he smiled and slipped his shoes off, moving to sit beside you as well.
“What did you two do today?”
“We played dolls and read books and yn made me a sandwich for lunch and we watched a movie and played more games!” Eunji rattled off excitedly, settling into your lap. “Can yn stay for dinner?”
You stopped her, “Oh, I don’t know if that’s—”
“Yn can stay for dinner if she wants, but let’s not force her, alright sweetheart?” Hyunjin interrupted you, putting a hand on your knee and smiling gently.
You felt like your stomach was doing backflips when his skin touched yours. Your brain was short circuiting at the small smile playing across his lips. You’d been watching Eunji for almost three and a half months, but you’d never stayed for dinner. As much as you wanted to, you tried not to get too close to Hyunjin—for the sake of professionalism, you told yourself. Really, it was just because you were scared of getting attached to him and Eunji and then getting your heart broken.
“I…” You paused before continuing, looking into Hyunjin’s hopeful eyes. “Yeah. Sure. I don’t have any other plans, so I would love to stay for dinner.”
“Great. I’ll get started, then.” Hyunjin stood up, shooting you another quick smile and ruffling Eunji’s hair as he walked past.
“Let’s go play princesses while Dad makes dinner!” Eunji scrambled out of your lap, toddling off to her room, expecting you to follow behind her. So, you did.
Thirty minutes later, Hyunjin stood in the doorway, watching you play princesses with a giggling Eunji. He finally cleared his throat, making you look toward him, “Dinner is ready, guys.”
You stood, grabbing Eunji’s small hand and guiding her to the bathroom, “Let’s go wash our hands, Eunnie.”
Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile as you helped Eun wash her hands before dinner. A thought flashed through his mind—you looked like you were meant to be there in his house with his daughter—but he quickly dismissed it. He couldn’t possibly get attached to you. You were just his daughter’s nanny. That was all.
When the three of you were seated at the dinner table, you also couldn’t shake the thought that being there with Hyunjin and Eunji was so natural—so right. You thanked Hyunjin for making dinner—a beef bibimbap—and carefully took a bite under the scrutinizing gazes of both Hyunjin and Eunji. It was just as delicious as it smelled and you smiled at Hyunjin after you swallowed, “It’s great, Hyunjin. You’re a really good cook.”
His face turned red and he scratched the back of his neck shyly, “Oh, it’s nothing, really. I’m mediocre at best.”
“No, seriously,” you placed your hand over his gently, “it’s really good.”
He stared at you until Eunji started giggling. You pulled your hand away and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Eunji spoke through her fit of giggles, “Dad, you were looking at yn with your mouth open like a fish!”
Hyunjin’s face turned red again and this time, the embarrassed flush covered the tips of his ears as well. You giggled along with Eunji, “He did look like a fish, didn’t he?”
“Hey,” Hyunjin pouted, crossing his arms in mock upset, “don’t make fun of me. I just spaced out for a second, is all.”
“Sure you did,” Eunji rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m pretty sure you were just staring because you think yn is beau—”
“Okay, that’s enough of that. Eun, finish your dinner so you can take a bath before bed,” Hyunjin stopped his daughter from finishing his thought, but it was still clear what she had been about to say. It made you happy to think that maybe Hyunjin thought you were beautiful, considering you felt that way about him.
The rest of dinner went by smoothly and you avoided embarrassing yourself successfully. Hyunjin stood up, corralling Eunji to the bathroom before turning to you, “I’ll get her bath started and be right back.”
You nodded and watched as he followed Eunji to the bathroom before standing and bringing all the dishes to the sink. Hyunjin came back out when you were finishing up the last plate. He stood beside you at the sink, watching as you dried the plate and set it on the drying rack.
“You didn’t need to do that, you know I could have done it. You’re our guest.”
You shook your head and smiled at him as you leaned against the counter, “It didn’t feel right to just sit there and do nothing. It’s the least I can do. You know, to say thank you for the job. It’s been so great getting to watch Eunji and the money definitely helps me pay my rent.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Hyunjin said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Having you here to watch Eun is more than enough.”
“If I didn’t have to pay for rent and college, I’d watch her for free,” you murmured, trying not to get lost in Hyunjin’s eyes.
He took a step closer to you, his hand holding the crook of your neck and his eyes never leaving yours, “Yn, I—”
“Dad! I’m done!” Eunji yelled from the bathroom, pulling Hyunjin from his stupor.
He looked at you for a second longer before calling back to Eunji, “I’m coming baby!”
You took a deep breath and fanned yourself with your hands, trying to cool your face and calm your racing heart. You sat back at the table, waiting for Hyunjin and Eunji to come back. It didn’t take very long though, and soon Eunji was running toward you, wrapped in a fluffy pink bathrobe over her Frozen pajamas. She tugged on your fingers, pulling you out of your chair.
“Come read me a bedtime story!”
“Hm, what’s the magic word Eunnie?” You asked, allowing her to lead you down the hallway to her bedroom.
“Pleeeeaaaase?” She begged, looking at you with the puppy dog eyes you never could ignore.
So, you nodded and helped her get tucked into bed while Hyunjin watched, leaning against the doorway like he always did when he watched you take care of Eunji. You picked out a book—one that Eunji liked a lot—and sat on the edge of her bed to read her the story. She fell asleep quickly (she didn’t even make it to her favorite part in the story) but you read the entire thing anyways just in case she wasn’t really asleep. And when you finished, you kissed her forehead, not even thinking about the intimacy of the action.
“Goodnight, Eunnie,” you whispered, brushing her hair away from her eyes and pulling the blankets up a little higher before turning off the lamp and switching on the nightlight.
“You’re so good with her,” Hyunjin murmured as you closed Eunji’s bedroom door behind you. “No one’s ever been that good with her other than me. We did try a few other babysitters before my mom was able to help. And then, not even she was able to get her calm so quickly. She really likes you.”
“Oh, i-it’s nothing, I just—”
“I really like you too.”
You just stared at him for a long moment, searching his eyes for any sign that he was kidding. There was no way this was real. You just weren’t that lucky. But he looked genuine and you couldn’t find any hint of insincerity in his eyes. You reached up slowly, wrapping your arms around his neck, a sudden surge of bravery taking over you.
“Yeah? How much?”
He breathed out, his brain going fuzzy from your close proximity. “So much.”
“How about,” you stepped just a little closer, your chest almost touching his, “we have a glass of wine and you tell me how much you like me, yeah?”
He had been expecting a very different statement so it took him a moment to fully register what you had actually said to him. But slowly, he nodded his head and stepped away from you, holding your hand and taking you back to the kitchen where he poured two glasses of wine for the two of you.
“You’re not… uncomfortable knowing that I like you, are you?”
“Obviously not,” you laughed, taking a small sip of the drink in front of you. “I thought I was pretty clear about my feelings in the hallway.”
“Girls are confusing. They always think they’re being clear but… clear would be you saying, ‘yeah Hyunjin, I like you too’ instead of making my brain foggy with your little mind games,” he huffed, pouting as he took a long sip of his own drink.
“Yeah Hyunjin. I like you too,” you whispered, not looking up from your drink.
“Fuck, I can’t do this,” Hyunjin stood up and you looked at him, eyes wide and worried. Had you misread the situation?
But he grabbed your wrist gently, even amidst his haste, and took you into his room, wine half finished and left behind as he locked the door after you. You leaned against the door, your eyes adjusting to the dark and your heart pounding out of your chest as you felt his body pressed against yours.
“You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?” He gasped, craning his neck to lay his head on your shoulder. “You don’t fucking know how badly I want you.”
“Show me.”
His lips were on yours in seconds, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you with him to his bed. “This is so wrong, yn. You’re my daughter’s babysitter.”
“I know,” you gasped between kisses, tugging your shirt over your head when you broke apart.
“She’s in the next room—”
“I know.”
Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Hyunjin, I want you to fuck me.”
He groaned low in his throat, pulling his own shirt off and leaning over you to kiss you again, teeth and lips and tongues clashing against one another as he pressed closer and closer and closer to you fervently. He moved on to your neck, leaving small kisses scattered across your smooth skin, but not marking you—he didn’t want to risk his daughter seeing and asking too many questions.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, nipping lightly at your stomach and leaving fluttering kisses across your chest and ribcage. “So, so beautiful.”
You gasped as his hands skillfully undid the clasp of your bra, pulling it off and tossing it to the side. His hands were warm. Everywhere his skin touched yours felt like magic—felt right. He felt right. It was almost too good to be true.
“Hyunjin,” you whispered, holding onto his shoulders tightly, “need you now.”
“Yeah?”
He looked at you, leaving a small kiss to the hollow space between your collarbones, and unbuttoned your pants, sliding them down your legs and throwing them with the rest of your clothes. He played with the elastic hem of your underwear, “Do you want me to keep going?”
“Yes, please.”
“You can stop me at any time. We’ll only go as far as you want.” Hyunjin’s voice was quiet but firm. It made your heart swell to know he cared enough about you to consider what you wanted and to assure you that he wouldn’t pressure you to go all the way if you didn’t want to—though now that you were nearly naked in front of him, you couldn’t possibly stop. You were almost desperate.
“Okay. But I don’t want you to stop. I want you to touch me.”
He smirked at you and tugged your underwear off, settling between your legs and hooking them over his shoulders. “I’ll do you one better.”
He kissed up your thighs, biting gently and leaving faint marks over the soft flesh. You shuddered when he pressed a gentle kiss to your clit, giving you an instant of pleasure and relief where you needed him most. But he pulled away again as quickly as he came.
“Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes Hyunjin. I’m positive. I want this. I want you.”
He nodded and buried his face between your legs, licking a slow stripe over your entrance, “God, you smell and taste so good. You’re actually perfect, what the fuck.”
You hummed in response, too distracted by the way his tongue and his lips felt against your body. He groaned as you threaded your fingers through his hair and pushed his face harder against you. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex in months, or maybe it was because it was Hyunjin (or maybe it was a little bit of both) but you felt your orgasm drawing close faster than you thought was even possible.
“H-Hyunjin, stop,” you moaned out, pushing his face away from you. He looked up at you, your arousal dripping from his chin and his eyes wide and worried. “I just… wanna cum when you’re inside.”
He smirked at you and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before moving up your body to kiss you again. He sat up to unbutton his own pants and push them down his legs, followed by his boxers. He leaned over you to pull a condom from his nightstand.
“Hm, how many girls have you had sex with recently for you to keep condoms in your drawer?” You teased, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him roll the condom over his painfully hard dick.
Even in the darkness of his room, you could tell his face was flushed. “N-none… I just… wanted to be prepared in case I met someone.”
“I’m teasing,” you giggled, pulling him down to kiss you again once the condom was on, “I know how you feel about one-night stands.”
He felt like his heart was melting when you said that. You didn’t stay late often. In fact, you had never stayed as late as dinner and putting Eunji to bed before that night, but you had spent occasional Saturdays at the park with the two of them and you had talked with Hyunjin about a lot of things. The fact that you remembered he wasn’t a ‘one-night stand’ kind of guy somehow made his heart swell with happiness.
“Are you ready?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumb gently over your cheek as he looked into your eyes.
“Yes.”
He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed in slowly. You squeezed his shoulders and gasped softly, trying not to make too much noise. If you woke Eunji up, you would bury yourself alive—there would be no way you would ever be able to face her again. He groaned deeply right into your ear, hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure you’d have finger shaped bruises in the morning.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” Hyunjin moaned quietly, breathing heavily as he tried hard to stay still and give you time to adjust to his size.
“You can move,” you finally whispered, kissing his shoulder, “Please move.”
He started slow, thrusting his hips at a slow, steady pace. You bit your lip and peppered small kisses across his chest and shoulders to keep yourself quiet as he slowly sped up. He whispered sweet affirmations in your ear as he thrust into you, the tip of his dick hitting every perfect spot inside of you.
“I really fucking like you, yn,” he moaned, “I haven’t liked anyone this much in years.”
“I like you. So much,” you whined out, vision blurry as you drew closer to your high, “Hyunjin, I’m s-so close.”
“Me too, sweetheart. You gonna cum with me?” You nodded quickly, humming softly as you forgot how to speak. He grinned wolfishly and thrusted his hips even harder, “Fuck, I’m coming, baby.”
You whined softly as you came hard around his dick. He held you closer to him as he moaned as quietly as he could and you felt his cum fill the condom. He sighed happily and pulled out slowly, trying to be careful since you were still sensitive. He pulled the condom off carefully and tied it off before throwing it in the trashcan in the bathroom.
“I’ll be right back, sweetheart, I’m just going to get a washcloth and some water for you, okay?”
You nodded tiredly and rolled onto your side to watch him walk away. You tried hard to keep your eyes open so you didn’t fall asleep before he came back. Thankfully, just as your eyes were closing, he came back, a glass of water and a washcloth in hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed and helped clean you up before holding the glass of water to your lips to help you drink.
“Will you stay the night?” He asked, looking at you hopefully as he crawled under the covers again.
You giggled a little and curled into his side, making yourself comfortable, “I’m too tired to leave, so you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night.”
“Hm, I don’t mind that.” He dragged his fingers through your hair and held you as close to him as was physically possible. “I would… really like to take you out on a proper date… if you want to, of course.”
“I would love to, Hyunjin.”
“Thank god, I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”
“You probably would have died from the embarrassment,” you teased, rubbing your hand up and down his side soothingly.
“Hm, yeah.” He was quiet for a moment before sighing. “I don’t know what to say to Eun…”
“Just tell her the truth. Tell her I’m going to be around more and that you like me. I think she already knows you like me, but she’ll appreciate you telling her anyway.”
Hyunjin nodded slowly, “Yeah. That’s a good idea…”
His voice trailed off and the two of you drifted off to sleep. You rested well in the arms of the man you had developed feelings for, happy that for once, your feelings weren’t unrequited. And Hyunjin rested happily, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you’d stay for good.
“Hey Dad! What does this thing do?” Eunji asked, holding up a handheld, bright pink vibrator. It had been almost a month since you and Hyunjin had admitted you had feelings for one another and you had been spending a significant amount of time at Hyunjin’s apartment—to the point your things were scattered in random places throughout his apartment.
“What thing—oh my god, put it back, Eunji!” Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he took the vibrator from his daughter frantically, “Where did you even get this?”
“From the secret box under your bed! There’s a lot of toys like this. But they don’t look very fun. What do you even do with them?”
Hyunjin looked at you, completely distressed, and you took this as your cue to take over. “Eunji, honey, these aren’t toys, they’re tools. Your dad uses them for some of his important projects. You shouldn’t touch them since they’re not yours, though, okay?”
“Oh. No wonder they don’t look fun,” Eunji pouted, handing the vibrator to you, “Dad, you need to find a better hiding place for your work tools. Under your bed is where your favorite, special toys go, silly!”
“Toys actually should get put away in your closet, my love, but I’ll be sure not to leave my work tools under the bed anymore, okay? Now can you please, put it back yn?”
You laughed and patted Hyunjin on the shoulder as you walked past, “I’ll put it back, but we’re just going to be using it again later.”
“For the love of god, you are going to kill me!”
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if honey is pure, it will burn (chapter 2 pt. 2) | the taste of honey series (18 + only)
pairing: young aristocrat!hyunjin x afab reader | wc: 28.5k | genre: 19th century au, arranged marriage, romance, smut | general warnings: period-appropriate themes, mutual pining, mentions of emotional distress, mentions of period-relevant toxic parenting, heavy fantasizing, voyeurism (accidental), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. reader is a virgin and it's a big deal. explicit sexual content. MINORS DNI. this work portrays elements/themes that may be triggering, reader discretion advised. explicit warnings under the cut | masterlist. (not written with the intention of being historically accurate)
Some people, you figured, had holes in them, and Hyunjin was like that. It wasn’t even his fault. His light leaked from him, and you were no better than a moth.
explicit warnings (read at your own risk, contains spoilers) : suggestive themes, mentions of sex, heavy and graphic fantasizing. voyeurism (hyunjin @ mc), mc being a virgin is a big deal & turns hyunjin on. masturbation (m, f), pillow humping (f), cum eating, mentions of period-accurate birth control. bloodplay if you squint but in a non-sexual situation (hyunjin gets a small injury), sexual tension.
Every morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang.
And every day, you were becoming a little better at it—at being the Lady of Hwang Estate.
“The blue or the green, my lady?”
You turned to Anhjong, who was showing you the options for your wardrobe of the day. The blue dress was pretty, but the green one had beautiful lace on it, as well as silky green ribbons around the waist.
“Green, Anhjong. With the cream-colored shoes, too.” You took the last sip of your strong tea and put the empty cup back on your table where Cloud, as adorable as ever, was busy eating her breakfast.
“Good choice, my lady.” The maid put the blue dress back where she took it and began preparing it while you were getting rid of your night clothes. “Are you excited to meet the new Head Steward?”
“To be honest, I am mostly excited about having a Head Steward again at all,” you replied, scratching Cloud’s little fluffy head in passing. You carefully folded your nightgown and accepted a white chemise from Anhjong, which you put on followed by your undergarments.
Hyunjin had left with Changbin on their business trip—right before he left, he had finally announced to Changbin that he would no longer be his steward but become his first counselor instead. Naturally, Changbin had tried to refuse him, but Hyunjin was stubborn, and Ha-ri had made her husband take the job, which also came with a beautiful cottage house on the estate.
You were happy for them—you liked the Seo family, all of them. Ha-ri was a friend, and you liked to believe that Changbin was, too. Their children were sweet and kind, just like their parents. You were delighted for them even, but you really needed someone to help you run this manor. It was your first week as Lady Hwang and you were here, by yourself, and had to make all the decisions by yourself, too.
It was a lot. But at least you had Ha-ri.
“Mr. Park has a good reputation,” Anhjong said as she was lacing your corset. “He worked under Lord Christopher for many years.”
“I trust the Bangs to only send us their very best, Anhjong.” And you meant it—Hyunjin himself had asked Lord Christopher for this Mr. Park, who he liked a lot apparently, and his friend had granted him that favor. “He should be here already. Let’s hurry!”
You put on the rest of your gown while your maid was lacing your hair. She was great at it, and knew intricate types of braids. She had promised she would teach you so that you can braid your daughters’ hair someday, my lady.
The mirror in front of you showed an elegant young woman in a beautiful green dress, made especially for her by her friend. You weren’t sure you recognized that woman. The girl you used to be had died somewhere between her wedding night and this morning. The girl you used to believe in many things—in her future, in the beauty of simple things, in the taste of honey. She used to believe in love.
She had been a fool, and the woman you were today had perhaps killed her in her sleep when she was least expecting it. You tried to remember what it had been like to be that girl. Waiting, expecting. Thinking all year long of the letter you would compose for your future husband, but even more busy imagining the things he would say in his letter to you. All this time spent in your bed, clutching those sheets of paper, inhaling them to see if some of his scent lingered on them. You pitied her. That poor girl.
“There you go, my lady.” Anhjong, as usual, placed your pretty braid on your shoulder. She had decorated it with a green ribbon. “Would you like a scarf? It seems a little windy today.”
“The cream one, yes.” Cloud meowed behind you—you usually took her with you on your first walk around the estate, but this morning she would have to stay in your bedroom since you were meeting Mr. Park for the first time.
You went to the small kitten and picked her up to give her kisses and pets. “Ha-ri promised she would send Haerin to come to see you, Cloud. Be a good girl.” Haerin was Ha-ri’s eldest daughter, and she was completely enamored with Cloud. You often spent afternoons with Ha-ri, Haerin and Cloud, sitting in the shade, Cloud in her little basket. The little girl liked to pet the kitten and she would even make sure she had her own cup of milk while the adults were having their tea.
Anhjong had been requested to help another maid with unpacking Mr. Park’s trunks and bags so you let her go. He would occupy a nice, spacious room in the other wing of the manor and you wanted him to feel at home here.
You adjusted your hair, the ribbon in it, too, and your smile. The smile that had been taught to you and that you had learned to wear even when you didn’t mean it. There wasn’t much to do about that. The smile was what you wore on the outside—your insides were adorned with longing and melancholy.
The manor was as busy as always—the hallway was empty, but you heard lively conversations from the floor below. You smelled breakfast, too. Something savory but something sweet as well. You walked slowly, working on taking deep, steady breaths to calm whatever storm was brewing inside of you, the one that filled your nights with nightmares and lustful dreams alike. The very same storm that made you stop in front of Hyunjin’s bedroom and push its heavy door open.
You let yourself into the empty room, breathing in, letting your husband’s scent fill your lungs. It smelled just like him here—like paper, like his cologne, like whiskey. You walked around in circles, feeling the curtains, the books on the shelves, the fabric of a jacket he had left behind. You took the jacket off the back of the chair where it was to smell that, too. Hyunjin’s scent was stronger on it, as if he had worn it on a warm day. You closed your eyes to lose yourself in it, that smell, that memory.
Every morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang, in an empty bed, with an even emptier heart. You woke up tired from your restless dreams. Dreams in which Hyunjin fucked you so hard that you often stirred yourself up in the middle of the night at the sound of your own moans, wet and throbbing between your legs. Some other nights, you dreamt that you waited and waited for him and that he never returned. But the worst were the nightmares—when all you’d dream about was him locking you in a dark room while he fucked Anhjong, or Ha-ri, or your mother.
One time, you woke up and he was in your bed, on top of you, but his body was cold and stiff. Somewhere in the distance, a baby was crying relentlessly. Hyunjin’s eyes were frozen in place, his plush mouth pale and parted open, his body motionless and heavy. Dead. No matter how hard you tried to wake him up, he never moved. You couldn’t move either, he was too heavy. Somewhere, in the manor, a baby would not stop crying, and you knew that you had to go check on it but you couldn’t move.
When you woke up again, for real this time, your cries were so loud that they alerted Anhjong. You were so deeply inconsolable that she had gone outside and made her way to Ha-ri’s house, just by the pine forest, to ask for help.
Ha-ri had given you wine, then whiskey, and a shoulder to cry on.
Since that night, you made sure to drink a little wine or whiskey or cognac before going to bed. It seemed to stop the really bad dreams from happening. Or maybe you forgot them as you woke up—didn’t matter, as long as you stopped screaming yourself awake every night.
You put the jacket back, noticing it had lost some of Hyunjin’s scent already. How long had he been gone?
How much longer would he be gone?
You took one last look at the room before leaving it. You had instructed that nobody but you should enter this room during your husband’s absence—no maid, no maintenance, nothing. Truth be told, you just wanted the room to retain some of his scent for as long as possible. You made your way downstairs, trying not to think about how it had felt when Hyunjin’s pretty cock was throbbing in your hand. Trying to forget the taste of his whiskey mouth.
Chef Sungjae was just outside the kitchen, deep in conversation with a man you didn’t know. You made sure the smile was still on your lips when you approached them—Sungjae dipped his head but the other man bowed courteously. He was tall, with dark hair and soft traits. His clothes were crisp and nice.
“Lady Hwang,” the man said. “What an honor to meet you finally.”
“Please stand. You must be Mr. Park. Welcome to Hwang Estate—and thank you for accepting my husband’s offer. He’ll be glad to find you here when he returns.”
“I simply couldn’t pass that opportunity, my lady.” The new Head Steward flashed a bright smile at you, just as bright as his eyes. His gaze was intelligent but kind. “Even Lord Bang said I would be a fool not to come here.”
Sungjae laughed, so you laughed too. You couldn’t let anyone know the true thoughts underneath your forced joy. Mr. Park smiled shyly. “Breakfast will be served soon, my lady,” the chef announced. “Would you like to have tea, coffee, something with your meal?”
“I’ll have coffee, the usual.” You liked coffee with a pinch of cinnamon in it, and milk. “What about you, Mr. Park?”
“Please, my lady, do call me Seonghwa.” His smile warmed up a little, putting you at ease. “I’ve heard plenty about you and your extensive kindness through Lord Christopher and his lady wife. I would like it if you felt comfortable with me.” He then turned to Sungjae. “I’ll have tea with milk, thank you, sir.”
“Well then, shall we have breakfast outside, Mr. Seonghwa?” You gave a nod towards Sungjae, indicating to him that the maids should prepare the table that was under the large elm tree. “Seems like today is lovely.”
“It is indeed, my lady.” The young man dipped his head and followed you outside, complimenting the estate at length.
“I only just got here, Mr. Seonghwa,” you reminded him. “While I appreciate your kindness towards my husband’s home and land, I have absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“Of course.” A slight flush appeared on the man’s cheeks but he kept his smile and pulled a chair for you when you reached the table under the elm. “Forgive me. I haven’t congratulated you on your marriage, my lady. Please accept my most sincere wishes for this union.”
You motioned towards the chair closest to you and Seonghwa sat down while maids were setting up the table with a linen tablecloth and some cutlery. You made conversation with them, commenting on their wise choice on the tablecloth—it was a beautiful piece with elegant embroidery on it and lace at every corner.
You wondered if you truly meant it, this compliment, or if this was simply the ghost of your mother’s teaching that still haunted you. She had always said that you should make sure the staff respected you and liked you, but that they should also fear you. You weren’t sure how to do that, though.
Breakfast was ham with eggs, roasted carrots and potatoes. You also discovered what the sweet-scenting item that you had smelled earlier was—Sungjae had also added a small raspberry tart with some Chantilly cream. You had picked the raspberries yourself yesterday, spending all afternoon foraging for the wild fruits. They were perfectly ripe and you did not want to waste any—your forearms still showed the cuts from it, and your knees were bruised. But at least it kept you busy.
“This is delicious,” Seonghwa commented after a while. “And it is quite nice to eat outdoors like this. Thank you, my lady.”
“Our Sungjae truly makes some of the best food I have ever eaten.” You knew for sure that you were completely honest about this. “Did you not like the food at the Bangs’?”
“Oh no, I loved it.” Seonghwa ate the last bite of his raspberry tart with a delighted expression on his face. “But this is better.”
You gave him a laugh and a nod. After all, he was right—Sungjae truly made delicious food. Even if you hadn’t been here for very long, you understood that Hyunjin had given him free rein to manage the kitchen any way he saw fit and a near-unlimited budget to buy ingredients and food. And, well, it showed.
“Since it is your first day here,” you told Seonghwa, “Sungjae will come to you soon and ask you what you’d like to have on your first dinner at the Hwang Estate. It is a tradition of the place, I heard.”
“Oh!” Seonghwa’s face lit up and he fidgeted excitedly in his seat. “I should start thinking about it right away then!” He sighed pensively, staring at the gorgeous scenery right in front of you. “What did you have on your first night here, my lady?”
You didn’t let the question melt your smile away. “Oh, my first night here was… unusual, Mr. Seonghwa. It was the very first night I met Lord Hwang.” You decided to make eye contact with the steward, but you couldn't quite read his expression. “I had no say in the menu that night. You could say that I am an exception—besides, nobody would be interested in my ideal meal.”
“Well, I’d like to know!” Seonghwa had a playful smile now, and it was contagious. For the first time today, you smiled and you meant it. You could only indulge him.
“A chef from France visited our city one time, when I was still a child,” you recalled. “My father contracted him for one meal—he made us crepes, with roasted asparagus, melted cheese and hollandaise sauce… I ate so much I thought I would be sick!”
Seonghwa let out an appreciative gasp. “You have refined tastes, my lady. And here I was, thinking of asking for mutton…”
You gave his forearm a few gentle pats. “Go ahead, ask for whatever you’d like. Sungjae’s mutton is exceptionally good, I’m sure you’ll love it. Make sure to give him exact instructions on how you want it prepared and seasoned, Mr. Seonghwa. Our chef likes a challenge.”
Seonghwa nodded and leaned comfortably into his chair, looking around, his gaze lingering on the garden down the hill. “Thank you, my lady. Your reputation precedes you but there were no lies in it—you truly are a kind, generous woman.”
You stared at the garden too, at the magnolia tree. Its flowers would bloom any day now, and you knew that the flowers would be short-lived—you simply hoped that Hyunjin would be back in time to see them.
“Mr. Seonghwa,” you started, your voice suddenly lower, quieter. “What sort of reputation precedes my husband, then?”
The Head Steward turned to you—you caught sight of him at the corner of your eyes, but you kept watching the magnolia branches sway in the breeze. “My lady, I—”
“People seem to judge him harshly,” you went on. “People seem to say he is cold.”
Seonghwa smoothed the fabric of his vest, then his pants, visibly uncomfortable. You gave him time—you were in no hurry. You watched the trees and the flowers in the garden, you listened to all the bird songs around you, always drawn to that one song you simply did not recognize. Was Hyunjin like that, too? Like a foreign bird, one that simply could not be understood?
“I heard no such thing under Lord Christopher’s roof, my lady.” Seonghwa pushed his empty plate just to keep his hands busy. “He has a lot of respect for him. He is quite fond of Lord Hwang, too. So is Lady Bang.”
You nodded slowly. “Yes, indeed.”
“Naturally, I heard the… stories. The tales. Of his old doctor, and—and—and you, my lady. That Lord Hwang had dismissed this doctor from his service.”
“He did, and—”
“But I heard it was because of the doctor’s inappropriate behavior,” Seonghwa said hurriedly, cutting you off. You took no offense, but this time, you did stare at him. He was handsome, but you were making him uncomfortable with this conversation. “Lord Hwang would never let anybody harm you, my lady. I respect that.”
“Thank you, Mr. Seonghwa.” You made yourself smile again, hoping it was at least a little convincing. “I hear our new doctor will be here soon, actually.”
“I’ll make sure everything is in order—”
This time, you cut him off. “No. You only just got here, and I want you to feel at home. I’ll take care of the doctor’s quarters. You meet everyone you haven’t met before, you make yourself familiar with everything. Alright?”
Seonghwa dipped his head low, pressing a hand on his chest. “My lady, thank you.” He was still smiling when he looked up again. “I am available should you need my help with anything.”
The maids were coming back with trays to gather the empty plates and used cutlery. You got up, followed by Seonghwa, and dismissed him politely. “Thank you, Mr. Seonghwa. It was lovely sharing breakfast with you—I’m looking forward to working with you. Don’t hesitate if you have questions or if you just need to chat with someone. When Mr. Seo will return, he surely will have a lot to say to you, but in the meantime… you know.”
“Absolutely. I appreciate it, my lady.” Seonghwa proceeded to help you put together all the plates and put them on the tray for the maids while they folded the tablecloth.
You heard a voice behind you and looked around until you noticed a farmhand waving his arms wide at you, gesturing vaguely in your direction. When he noticed you had seen him, he stopped, and called for you. ‘LADY HWANG! SOMEONE IS HERE FOR YOU!’, and he kept on going but you weren’t sure you could hear everything as he was on the opposite side of the estate. Something about being unsure if he should let them in or not.
“Better if I investigate this, my lady,” Seonghwa pointed out. “I know you told me to see to my room inside, but I will be disregarding that. Forgive me.”
You couldn’t help but laugh—Seonghwa smiled shyly at you and immediately started towards the farm hand. You liked him. He was soft-spoken and sweet and seemed like a good fit for the estate. You only hoped that he could be trusted in the long run… That he would be able to be there for Hyunjin, maybe not in the same way Changbin had been, but something like that.
You followed him, eager to see what the commotion was about. Seonghwa had long legs and walked faster than you, so a conversation was already happening when you made it to him and the farm hand, a boy you had seen around the estate a few times. Ha-ri had told you that Hyunjin had found him at an orphanage years ago and offered him a job on the estate’s small farm. His lordship can’t stand the sight of a child being alone, hungry or cold, Ha-ri had said.
You noticed a carriage down the hill, stopped at the gate. Two horses, two men, carrying one large crate with slits on each side. You frowned, finally turning to the farm boy.
“They say they are farmers, from a few towns over,” he said. “They have a delivery for you, my lady.”
“Well I certainly did not order anything myself,” you pointed out. “I have yet to leave this estate to visit the town.”
“He said that Lord Hwang was sending them,” Seonghwa clarified.
You nodded, feeling a little tense as you wondered what was in that crate. In the end, you told the boy to let the carriage and the men past the gate, watching from your spot near the kitchen. You could smell the roses behind you, their scent carried from the garden by the soft morning breeze. At this moment, you felt your happiness, but you realized it was an elusive thing—it would always evade you, tease you, but it might never make a home out of your heart. So you breathed deeply, letting the floral scent remind you of Hyunjin and his whiskey kisses.
“Should I get someone else?” Seonghwa asked when the carriage had almost reached the end of the path.
You let out a disgruntled sigh. “Feels weird that you and I are in charge of this place and we have no fucking clue what to do, does it?”
Seonghwa was left speechless by your sudden candor but you heard his smile through his voice when he spoke again. “A little, my lady.” There was a pause, and then he added, “Oh, here comes Mrs. Seo, perhaps she heard the horses…”
Ha-ri was indeed coming out from the kitchen door, taking a second to look at the two men who were climbing down the carriage while the farm boy bowed low and said he was going to get Mingi for the horses. Seonghwa went to meet the two men while you stayed behind with Ha-ri.
“Are we expecting some sort of delivery, Ha-ri?” you questioned while the seamstress decided that now was the absolute best time to adjust the green ribbons around your waist.
“Not that I know of, my lady.” She finished redoing the bow and looked over at the carriage. “That’s one large crate, isn’t it? I heard the carriage from upstairs.”
“Hyunjin sends them, apparently.” You couldn’t hear the conversation between Seonghwa and the two men—they were from the working class, as indicated by their clothes and posture. You held no judgment. “Maybe he purchased something while he’s away in the big city.”
“Possible. Lord Hwang does like spending his money.”
Seonghwa had finally turned to you again and was inviting you to join them near the carriage. You lifted your skirt so as not to ruin the fabric at the hem—a habit you did not always keep when Ha-ri wasn’t around—and made your way to the men. They bowed very low while Seonghwa introduced them to you by last and first names. Commoners, but with kindness in their tired eyes.
“These gentlemen come from the town past the river, you must have passed it on your way here, my lady,” Seonghwa explained. “They said they met your husband a few days ago.”
You made them stand up. “Did you, sirs?” you asked, offering them a smile. You meant it this time, for some reason. “I hope Lord Hwang was healthy and well.”
“He was, milady,” the older of the two men told you. “His carriage was damaged right in front of our farm. He needed our help.”
You put a hand over your mouth, suddenly worried, glancing at the large crate behind them. “Oh! Was he, or Mr. Seo, injured?”
“No, no, milady, forgive my father for not making this clear right away,” the other one replied. “They stayed with us overnight and paid us generously. We gave them a tour of our farm, but Lord Hwang was not at all interested in our cows, or our chickens. He sent us here after buying it from us.”
You stared at them, intrigued. The father reached for a bag left on the carriage and pulled out an envelope on which you recognized Hyunjin’s handwriting.
“Buying what from you?” You scoffed, a little nervous, as Seonghwa took the envelope from the man.
“Can’t you hear them, milady?” the son asked you, a smile appearing on his face. “We made sure to take our time on our way so they would be fully healthy and well when they made it to you.”
Hear them? Hear what? You closed the distance between you and the carriage, listening closely. You heard the breathing of the horses, the distant noises of the manor, the bird songs, the breeze… and a low, steady buzzing.
Your mind came to a complete stop and you froze, too shocked to fully process what you were hearing. It took a few seconds before you made eye contact with the farmers again.
“Are those…” you whispered, your voice quivering, “bees?” Behind you, Ha-ri gasped loudly.
“Honey bees, milady, yes,” the father responded with a proud smile on his face. “We had two apiaries and your lord husband showed great interest in them. He made an offer we couldn’t refuse and asked us to deliver one of them to you personally. He said you’re a beekeeper, milady, that you’d take good care of them, that you make the best honey he ever tasted.”
Absolutely nothing could have prepared you for this—you looked around, searching for somewhere to sit as you suddenly felt dizzy, as if you hadn’t had breakfast. You took deep breaths, accepting the envelope from Seonghwa and wasting no time opening it. There was just a short note inside, written on low quality paper with cheap ink, but you would recognize Hyunjin’s handwriting and words anywhere.
Darling,
these two kind men agreed to sell one apiary to me. I may not know much about beekeeping, but their setup seemed proper and the bees were as healthy as they could be, feeding on clover and lavender pollen. I’ve paid them enough to cover them helping you set everything up at the estate, and also covered the fees for them to stay overnight at the town’s inn. May this small gift make your life a little sweeter, less harsh. Much like your presence does with mine.
I hope you are healthy, that things are going smoothly at home, and that I will be seeing you soon.
Sending you my warmest regards, Hyunjin
It took you a long while to get through the letter—so long that the others must have believed you were illiterate. But you read the letter once, and then returned to the very beginning.
Darling. Darling. Darling.
“Gentlemen, may I ask at what time of the day my husband wrote this letter?” you asked, carefully placing it back in its envelope. It was an unusual question, but you needed to know. Darling. Darling. Darling. “After dinner?”
Few things could bother you right now and the puzzled faces of these two farmers was certainly not one of those. “Uh… no, milady—I—”
“It was just before he left, in the morning, milady,” the father replied with a nod. “He asked for paper and ink while Mr. Seo was gathering their things.”
Darling. Darling. Darling. Maybe Hyunjin had still been drunk from the night before when he wrote the note.
You felt Ha-ri’s hand on your shoulder. She squeezed it gently. “My lady,” she whispered. “Are you alright?”
You couldn’t cry. Not now. Not in front of these two farmers, not in front of Seonghwa and not in front of Mingi who was coming to check on the horses. You swallowed your tears but swallowing the thorns of a rose might have been easier.
“Yes, Ha-ri. This is a big gift.” You would cry later, in your bed. You would cry yourself to sleep just like you did every night. Big, yes, but significant was the word you ought to use.
Only Hyunjin knew how you missed it and what it had meant for you to have your apiary at home. Only he could know what this meant for you, the void it had created in your heart when you had to part ways with your passion. With the one thing that had kept you going all these years.
“Where shall we install the apiary, my lady?” Seonghwa asked you, obviously overwhelmed. It was his first day after all, and he certainly didn’t expect he’d have to deal with beehives today.
You took a deep breath, glancing some more at the letter Hyunjin had written and at the hand that was holding it. The same hand that had squeezed his warm cock until he had spilled his seed all over it. The same hand he had held on your wedding day, taking you for your first dance. You had written him many letters with that hand. One for each birthday.
You had hoped for so much. You had hoped that your marriage to Hyunjin would be one of love—but really, did you know what love was at all? If you had never known love, would you know to recognize it?
“Over there, just past these shrubs,” you instructed, motioning at the exact area you had in mind. It would be perfect—there was shade for the beehive itself but plenty of plants and flowers for them to feed on. The view would be nice too, as the lake would be in your vision range as you worked.
The men got to work—carefully, they unloaded the crate onto a wheeled platform brought by a couple of the workers from the estate. Neither of them seemed very comfortable around the bees so you made a mental note—you’d offer them jars of honey as soon as you could. It was still relatively early in the summer so you trusted you’d be able to harvest at least a little of it, if not as much as what you were used to.
You followed them, guided by this brightness within you that the buzzing of the bees seemed to create.
“My lady,” Ha-ri said tentatively. “Would you mind if I went to fetch Hanni? She loves watching the bees gather pollen from flowers in the garden…”
You couldn’t stop a smile from painting itself on your lips. Many years ago, you had been that little girl. Fascinated by the bumblebees on a painted portrait in your house, much more than you had been interested in the main focus of the painting—your future husband.
“By all means, please do. Who knows—in a few years, perhaps she’ll want to learn the secrets of beekeeping.” You liked Hanni a lot. The little girl always had a smile on her face.
You watched Ha-ri walk away but soon reported your attention on the workers and beekeepers when they began opening the crate. While the three of them remained with the hive, the father approached you after taking off his gloves. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small wooden box that you recognized instantly. It was a tiny cage.
The farmer handed it to you. “Your queen, milady.”
You took the box in your hand, inspecting it carefully. The bee looked healthy. Her buzzing was steady and strong—she paced the small cage, eager to be reunited with her hive.
“Thank you, good sir. Thank you for everything.” You turned to the now exposed apiary—it was more modest than the one you had known back home but no less practical. It seemed sturdy, too. Already bees were flying in and out of the cracks disposed all around it. Drones, most likely, searching for their queen, which was still buzzing in your hand. The same hand with which you had touched Hyunjin’s lips, feeling their silky texture, their warmth. The hand that you slid between your legs at night when you were hungry for him.
You wanted to be alone with your bees, even for a minute. Still, you took the time to give warm thanks to the farmers who had sold their apiary to your husband—you asked Seonghwa to please escort them back to their carriage and to make sure they would have snacks and something to drink for their trip to the town, where they would spend the night.
The workers carefully picked up the remnants of the crate and gladly walked away—the more distance they put in between them and the hive, the happier they would be, it seemed. You smiled softly. You had never had it in you to be afraid of bees, and it wasn’t for a lack of stings. Naturally, you had known the pain of stings more than once as you did not like to work with gloves. But you got used to it. At the end of the day, this was better than the pain that you got when your mother made you dance for hours on end to ensure that you knew all the steps and could execute them elegantly. Your socks would be glued to your feet after those days, covered in caked blood and shame.
Bees stung and it hurt, but at least you had control over that. At least, you had chosen that pain over all the other achings inflicted upon you.
Feeling the wood and the slight vibration underneath it felt like coming back to life, or something close to it. The bees were flying around you, impatient to find their queen. You weren’t afraid.
Hyunjin had sent you many gifts over the years. Books, expensive silk and perfumes, fancy ink. Some years, he would send bulbs to be planted around your birthday so that tulips and hyacinths and daffodils would bloom around you in the spring. Make sure to plant them near your window, he had written once, so that the colors and beauty of these flowers keep you company until I can.
And then he had given you the gift of this new life. A safe space. Cloud for your lonely days, a bedroom just for you. A home. A bee colony.
So why was there a void in you?
It felt right when you released the queen bee. It felt meaningful, although you weren’t able to figure out why exactly. You watched her fly around her new home, perhaps she was making herself accustomed to it. Then she disappeared into the apiary.
You knew better than to get to work straight away—you’d give the bees some respite after their travels. Instead, you sat against the trunk of a nearby pine to look at the bees from a distance. To take it all in. To listen to their buzzing layered with birdsong, with the breeze, with the sounds of lazy waves flapping in the distance.
If you had never known peace, would you know to recognize it?
You heard Hanni before you saw the little girl—she appeared running with a smile brighter than the sun on her face, followed by her mother, who tried to keep up with her daughter as best she could. You caught Hanni in flight, hugging her and preventing her from going face-first into an apiary full of live bees. Instead, she settled next to you, an arm under yours.
“Aren’t they beautiful, Hanni?” you asked her while Ha-ri, visibly regretting her decision to involve this little bundle of energy into this, plopped on the other side of you, also leaning against the pine. You handed Hanni the small wooden box still in your hand. “That’s where they put the queen bee while they were transporting them over here. Wherever the queen goes, the colony follows.”
“Is the queen pretty my lady?” Hanni asked with big eyes, pulling gently on the fabric of your dress.
You smiled. Ha-ri reached over you to caress her daughter’s arm lovingly. You took their hands in yours, delight spreading in your heart like an invisible poison—you couldn’t help but feel like you were going to pay the price of the smile on your lips sooner rather than later.
“I think that queen bees are beautiful, yes,” you replied honestly. “But we don’t see them as much as the others, and they’re not as fuzzy as the worker bees, the ones you see working to gather pollen on flowers.”
Hanni sat in silence, nodding as she turned her attention back to the apiary. “Is the king handsome, too?”
You giggled. “There’s no king bee. It’s the queen’s world—she is in charge of the whole colony. She inspects honeycombs and makes sure she can lay her eggs safely.” You paused, watching as two swallows took flight from a small crevice in between two bricks of the manor. “The male bees work for the queen, not the other way around. They see that all of her needs are met, and that she’s happy and healthy.”
Ha-ri’s scoff told enough without words, but she still added, “We should have been born bees instead!” If Hanni hadn’t been there, you would have told Ha-ri about the downsides of the queen’s life, too—after all, it wasn’t all easy for her.
Virgin queens murdered each other so that only one remained—the true queen. After the victorious one emerged, she had only a limited amount of time to mate with drones. If she failed to do so due to weather or other unfortunate circumstances, it would be the end of the colony as there were no other eligible queens to carry it on.
Bees had barbed stingers. It meant that once they string, they died.
Not queens, though. Queen bees could sting repeatedly and remain perfectly healthy, for their stingers lacked barbs.
“I’d like to go out tomorrow, Ha-ri.” The day was beautiful. The sky seemed deep, a blue that reminded you of your favorite dress when you were eight or nine years old. Your sister had been jealous of that dress and had ‘accidentally’ ripped it when she had tried to put it on after stealing it from your bedroom. “Let’s visit the town, you, Seonghwa and I. I’d like to find a thank you gift for my husband.” A nice bottle of whiskey, perhaps. So that you would hear a darling spill from his soft lips again.
“Ha-ri, why is everybody staring at us?”
Behind you, Ha-ri gently pulled on one of the ribbons wrapped around your waist, making sure it held tightly after the short carriage ride from the estate to here. The day was blazing hot, sunnier than yesterday had been—if even possible—and you could already feel your hair sticking to your temples.
Next to you, Seonghwa was having a short conversation with the coachman, explaining that you would be quick with your errands.
You looked around, searching for an answer to your question. Ha-ri came to stand beside you, glancing at you with an enigmatic smile on her face. “Because you’re Lady Hwang, my lady.”
“But, how can they even tell?”
“They know you’re Lady Hwang because they recognize the horses and the carriage, yet, you're new in town,” Ha-ri explained. “They know you’re Lady Hwang because of the silk of your dress, your shiny hair, and because it shows.”
The town was small but had many shops as far as you could tell. You were standing by the pub where the coachman usually left the carriage while Hyunjin or Changbin went and did their errands. You had no idea what you wanted to get Hyunjin exactly, but you just knew that the scale of the gift he had offered you deserved at least a little something. It deserved a gift in return, something to let him know that you appreciated his gesture.
Something to let him know that you weren’t upset with him for what had happened the other night. Sometimes, when your surroundings were too quiet, you still heard him apologizing profusely. I’m sorry. Darling, I’m sorry. A voice heavy with shame. With regret, maybe. You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you could read regret in others even though you had known plenty of it.
Lady Hwang. The one thing you had always known you would become.
You cleared your throat, looking away, choosing to focus on Ha-ri and Seonghwa. “Well, let’s not give them too much of a show to watch,” you decided. You were very much aware of Hyunjin’s reputation around town and had no doubt that the circumstances surrounding his firing of Doctor Yun were known by most, at least to a certain extent. It was the first time you ventured out of the estate since the wedding and you figured that a short appearance would be better than spending the whole day out. Besides, you were looking forward to being back home already to take care of your bees.
You walked behind Seonghwa but next to Ha-ri while she told you all the gossip there was to know about each building and shop on the main road. Who was married to who, who was widowed and who was friends with who.
You had spotted a market where a vendor was selling plants and other greenery—you were considering buying Hyunjin seedlings to add even more roses to his mother’s garden when you passed a shop that caught your attention.
Jeon’s. The building was elegantly built and decorated—large windows showed beautiful furniture as well as other decor items inside the shop.
This was obviously Lord Jeon’s shop, and you stopped right in front of it. “Let’s go in there,” you offered. “I’d like to buy a table or two for the setup around the apiary.”
“W—what? My lady, this is the Jeons’ place,” Ha-ri replied. She almost looked frightened, as if something terrible was waiting for you in that store. “Lord Hwang doesn’t shop there.”
For some reason, you thought about queen bees at that moment. “Well I’m not Lord Hwang, my Ha-ri.” You crossed the few steps that separated you from the door. “Besides, Lord Jeon invited us to dinner. I ought to show some manners and go say hi, don’t you think? It’s not like they’re enemies, is it?”
But Ha-ri’s face seemed to tell you otherwise. Seonghwa opened the door for you, though. “I think Lady Hwang is right,” he said. “It might be good publicity for her to be seen in this store—she’s new blood, after all. It could diffuse the tension between the two families. Besides, I doubt that Lord Jeon himself would be in that store today.”
You weren’t sure you understood why there was tension between Hyunjin and the Jeons, but you were glad that Seonghwa supported you. “Ha-ri, you know, if you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to come in.” You looked behind her, at the stores on the other side of the street. “Isn’t that the shop where you buy your fabrics? You can go there if you prefer. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“With all due respect, my lady, you’re not going in there without me.” Ha-ri walked past you and entered the shop before you or Seonghwa could.
The store was spacious and well-lit due to the large windows all around the building, letting all the sunshine in. A lot of furniture was displayed, and it was all very elegant and fancy. Chairs and armchairs with expensive upholstery, tables made of foreign wood, shelves with elaborate carvings on them. Clients walk among the furniture, looking at everything carefully.
You immediately located the exact kind of table that you thought would suit your needs. They were at the very back of the store, where the more plain-looking pieces were. They may have been a little less intricate in their design, but they had something else you wanted—they looked sturdy and durable, which was ideal for something that would spend several months outside.
“Oh, these tables…” Ha-ri touched one of them, the same one you had noticed. Made of stained hardwood, it was large, with bulky legs and smooth surfaces.
“Wouldn’t this be perfect for your sewing room?” you asked the seamstress, reading her thoughts. “Do you reckon they have more than one of these?”
As if on cue, a man approached the three of you. He was tall and undeniably handsome. Wavy strands of warm brown hair framed his elegant face, but his clothes may have been even more elegant. Linen, velvet and satin. You heard Ha-ri gasp next to you but made yourself smile your best smile. The very one your mother had taught you.
“You must be Lady Hwang,” the man said, dipping his head respectfully. “I thought I recognized your seamstress. What a surprise to see you here today.” He flashed a friendly smile. “I’m Kim Taehyung, it’s a pleasure to have such a special guest in our store today.”
You scanned your memory for that name but it did not ring a bell. Without missing a beat, you turned to Ha-ri and tried to find an answer in her eyes, but she seemed too stunned to react. Thankfully, Seonghwa was acquainted with this man.
“Mr. Kim, thank you for your warm welcome. We’re delighted to meet you.” He spun on his heels, facing you. “My lady, Mr. Kim Taehyung is Lord Jeon’s associate. He is in charge of the company’s stores.”
You nodded and dipped your head in return, showing respect. “Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Kim. You have a lovely selection of items here. Impressive.”
“This would be the first time a Hwang has set foot in this store,” Taehyung observed, still grinning. “And not only is she pretty, she is also gracious. I never thought I’d live to see the day a Hwang would say something kind about our work.”
You weren’t an idiot—you recognized a backhanded compliment when you saw one. You had been the victim of many of those before anyway, and this Taehyung wasn’t particularly subtle about it. After all, before you became one, there was only one Hwang left, and the disdain this man had for Hyunjin was obvious.
But your experience had taught you one thing: in these situations, the best weapon wasn’t cunning, or sarcasm, or criticism. They would be wasted on people like this man who fed on malice. Kindness, however, could take you places. It used to drive your mother crazy when you responded to her acrimony with a soft voice and thoughtful words.
You took a step toward him, reciprocating his grin. “The honor is all mine, Mr. Kim. In fact, I think I’ll be making a significant purchase today.” You spoke gently, making your voice as merry as you could. “Unless you’d rather not do business with a Hwang?”
A flick of the gaze. A slight change in posture. Your arrow had reached its target, but you didn’t let it show that you had noticed, keeping your cheerful demeanor. Kim cleared his throat. “I don’t see why we wouldn’t,” he responded. “In fact, there’s nothing I’d want more, my lady.” He hesitated, shifting his weight on his other leg. “I hear the wedding was quite an event—congratulations are in order. I hope your marriage will be a happy one, my lady.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Kim.” You gave the table a gentle tap. “This one caught our attention—do you have more than one of these?”
“I think we do.” He nodded. “But wouldn’t a lady like you be interested in something more… delicate?”
You gulped, swallowing your rage. Something in the man’s behavior painfully reminded you of your mother. Taunting, concealed between lines of rehearsed fake benevolence.
Whatever rivalry may have existed between your husband and this man’s boss, you figured, had nothing to do with you. So why the witty tone, the remarks? The line between warmth and deception was thin. Thin enough that you saw right through it.
“I assure you that I possess enough intelligence to know what sort of table I require, Mr. Kim. I value durability over looks when it comes to the things I buy, you see. I need two of these tables—one will be for you, Ha-ri—and maybe one of these?” You motioned toward another table a few feet away, similar to the one you had already picked, but in a different size. “They’re for my work and Mrs. Seo’s, so we want something we can trust, and I hear you build the very best furniture in the country.”
Taehyung paused, but only for half a second. “Of course, my lady.” He raised his hand, catching the attention of an employee who hurried toward you with a pen and some paper. “It would be an honor to do business with you.” He dipped his head and when he showed his face again, you thought you saw a glimmer of something in his eyes. Something mischievous, but not quite evil. Playful, perhaps. You hoped for his sake it wasn’t mocking. “Please allow me to offer you a friendly discount for your shopping today.”
Politics, nothing more. You knew enough about men to know this—whatever reasons Kim Taehyung had to offer you a discount, they were not genuine. He would be able to use them against you, or against Hyunjin, should he ever feel like it.
“That won’t be necessary,” you concluded. “Thank you very much, though, but I insist on paying the same price as anyone else walking into your store.” You offered the man a smile, making it as real as you could—but still making sure to add a drop of bitterness to it, to make sure he didn’t take you for a fool—then turned to Seonghwa. “Mr. Seonghwa, would it be alright for you to finish the purchase? Mrs. Ha-ri and I will wait for you outside.”
You let out a sigh after exiting the store. The heat was even worse than it had been before, but at least no one had stuck around just to gape at you.
“What an insufferable man,” Ha-ri muttered under her breath. You suppressed a snort—it wouldn’t be very ladylike of you. “You showed him he shouldn’t treat you like a foolish girl my lady.” She groaned. “Lord Jeon is even worse. I wonder if you and Lord Hwang should decline his invitation…”
You nodded, watching the busy street. A little farther, a group of children were playing with a ball, and part of you wanted to join them. But you stayed close to Ha-ri.
“I don’t like to fold, Ha-ri.” You felt warmth spreading within you, almost as if the rays of the sun permeated through your skin. “All my life I was told to be a good girl and taught how to be one—but I would lie if I said I didn’t enjoy using a little bit of contempt on men like them. Whatever rivalry exists between them and my husband, I don’t intend on letting them think they’re better than us.”
Ha-ri watched you with a mix of apprehension and something that looked like approval. You’d invite her to your room tonight and share a bottle of wine—this way, you’d get a detailed list of all the things she hated about the Jeons.
“Let’s get wine,” you told Ha-ri, turning to her. “And whiskey,” you added, hoping they would have something special. You would get a whole bottle just for Hyunjin.
As Ha-ri was telling you about your options between two different stores to make your purchase, yet another, unrelated shop caught your attention. Across the street, a few buildings down from the one you were standing in front of, was a wooden storefront with a large window. William’s Crafts.
“What is that over there, my Ha-ri?” you asked, showing your friend the store with the painted canvases in its windows.
“Oh! Bill’s! Haven’t been there in a while.” Ha-ri offered you a smile. “I bet his hair is all gray now. He sells art supplies, you see.”
You didn’t know Hyunjin—you had moved here just so recently, weren't yet accustomed to your new life. You had never met him before, had never seen him before except for one portrait sent by his family to yours when you were a baby. You didn’t know him except for the letters he sent you every year.
You knew him better than anyone on this Earth, and you had read Hyunjin’s letters over and over until they were engraved in your brain, in your soul.
I was hoping I could send you a sketch this year, but I’m afraid I can’t. Father doesn’t want me drawing, he says it’s a waste of time and gave my pencils away to the Count’s daughter.
Seonghwa was reappearing, climbing down the few steps of the Jeon’s store to join you again. “Ha-ri,” you started, your voice shaking with trepidation, with something darker, too, “let’s go to Bill’s shop right away. I’d like to see what he has.”
Hyunjin may have been exhausted from traveling and from the week of hard labor behind him, but all he felt when he saw the outline of his home in the distance was relief. It grew in his chest slowly, reminding him of the wisteria that grew on the western walls of the manor—vines progressing slowly, becoming sturdier, stronger, until the fragrant flowers bloomed. This is how he felt. Like a sweet scent had established its quarters in his heart.
Because, for the first time in his life, Hyunjin had something to return home to. Something. Someone. You.
Had the apiary made it in one piece? The farmers had assured him they would be able to transport it safely and that the colony would only suffer minimal losses. They had showed him how they would proceed, and had even demonstrated their methods to ensure the well-being of the queen. Hyunjin knew nothing about beekeeping, but these men had seemed like they were capable enough.
Had you liked the gift? Had it made you happy? Happier, at least?
Hyunjin emerged from his distracted state when Changbin nudged him. The carriage’s cabin may have been small—and they may have been just the two of them in it—but Hyunjin had been lost in his thoughts nonetheless, not paying much attention to what his friend was telling him.
It was dusk—the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, cooling the air a little. Still, Hyunjin kept his gaze on the window. “Sorry, Changbin. You were saying?”
“I was asking if the new doctor would be there,” Changbin retorted, obviously annoyed but also amused.
“Unless there has been a change of schedule, Dr. Lee should arrive tomorrow,” Hyunjin reminded him. “Are you alright?”
Changbin chuckled, trying to conceal a grin but failing miserably. “Me, sir? I’m quite alright. It’s you I’m worried about. I haven’t seen you in this state since… well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” Seo Changbin was a funny man, and his playfulness always came from a good place. In fact, it was his humor that had kept Hyunjin going a lot of the time, all these years.
Hyunjin played along but kept his composure. “Seen me like what, Changbin?”
Changbin let out a laugh. “Whatever the opposite of sulking is, sir.” He paused, his expression returning to something more serious. “I jest but really, I mean it.” Another pause, longer this time—long enough that they had reached the gate by the time Changbin spoke again. “Are we not going to talk about the other night, Hyunjin?”
There were no specifications required—Hyunjin knew exactly what night Changbin was referring to. The evening with you, in your bedroom, the evening where jealousy and lust had created an ugly storm within him. Not ugly. Mighty would be a more appropriate word.
He had thought a lot about that night, about the things he had learned about you and the things you had learned about him. You had every reason to hate him, to resent him—Hyunjin knew this. The apiary and the bees weren’t a way to make you forget his faults and his flaws, flaws that he had well before marrying you. It was just a way to make your daily life a little better. It was just so you could have something that was yours, and yours only.
Hyunjin had thought a lot about that night, the same way a religious man would think about his god. The same way a man affected by illness would obsess about a cure. And what if there was no cure? What if there was no god to hear his prayers?
He couldn’t stop thinking about you, your lips like satin, your warm breath on his skin. Your hand around his cock, inquisitive, forgiving, smooth. He couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of your mouth and the scent that had lingered on his fingers after you had pressed his hand between your legs. Just a faint smell, sweet, made diffuse with the scent of his own sweat and the floral water your clothes had soaked in. He wanted more of it, more of you. He wanted your scent sticking to him like expensive cologne from Paris, your essence coating his fingers, his cock, his lips—
Changbin interrupted his thoughts, and perhaps it was better this way. “So I guess we’re not going to talk about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest as the carriage slowed down, approaching the manor.
“What is there to say?” Hyunjin meant this. As far as he knew, all that Changbin was aware of was that he had gotten drunk and then you had needed his help to get Hyunjin up the next morning.
The truth, of course, was much worse. Or much better, depending how one perceived it. Hyunjin had gotten drunk on whiskey, but then he had gotten drunker on you and the jealousy stirring up inside of him as he learned about you, and that maid of yours. And yet he had no reason to be jealous.
He wanted to forget your eyes the exact moment you had asked him about the brothels, and the girls. But just like the memory of your scent, your gaze haunted him.
How would you welcome him back home? Hyunjin was no fool—he knew all too well that an apiary wouldn’t suffice to erase his wrongdoings. He just wanted you to have something. He just wanted you to feel like you belonged.
“You are your own worst enemy,” Changbin reminded him. “The only thing getting in your way is yourself.”
Hyunjin felt a pang of anger rise within him but he made efforts to keep his voice low so that he wouldn’t be heard by the driver. “You know that’s not exactly true.” But really, Hyunjin meant, you know I have my reasons. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t even want to think about it.
The only thing getting in Hyunjin’s way was his father, and the legacy he had left him with. The Hwang curse, the one he had passed on to you when he had married you. He shouldn’t have kept his end of the bargain—the deal had been between his father and yours in the first place anyway.
He wished he could free you. That he could disappear, get on a boat and fuck off to another continent. They’d assume he was dead and you would become the sole owner of his property. You’d eventually remarry, hopefully to a good man who could give you a child or two before it was too late. A man that wouldn’t be cursed. A man with a heart in his chest instead of a vacant space.
He couldn’t. He simply could not do that for reasons too ugly, too elaborate for him to even think about tonight. This fairytale would never come true, not even if he actually died right here, right now. All of this thanks to his shithead of a father. All of this thanks to the legacy he had left behind.
Hyunjin’s breathing became shallow when the carriage slowed down, then stopped. He turned to Changbin. “I appreciate your counsel, Changbin. I’ll keep that in mind. You should go and find Ha-ri, I’m sure she and the kids missed you.”
Changbin was not an idiot—Hyunjin’s polite way of dismissing him only indicated he wanted to be alone. Still, Changbin nodded. “It was my intention to do just that, sir.”
The night was nice and a warm breeze flew over them when Hyunjin left the carriage. The driver was already getting their bags to a domestic. He was with Anhjong and with another man that Hyunjin finally recognized as Park Seonghwa.
“My replacement!” Changbin had initially wanted to refuse his new position among Hyunjin’s council but in the end Hyunjin had convinced it would be for the best. More importantly, he had made him understand that his upbringing shouldn’t be a source of shame for him. “It’s nice seeing you again, Seonghwa. It’s been a while.”
Seonghwa had been employed under Christopher for many years but had left the Bangs for a short while when his father had become ill. Not wanting to leave his mother and younger siblings in need, he had returned to the farmstead where he had been raised, only to come back when he was no longer needed over there. Christopher had taken him back, naturally—but at the news of his return, Hyunjin had asked if he could perhaps employ Seonghwa. He had always liked him, his soft demeanor, his intelligence. It had been the perfect occasion to finally promote Changbin.
“Mr. Seo, what a pleasure indeed.” The new steward dipped his head with a wide smile. He turned to Hyunjin, dipping his head lower. “Lord Hwang, it is an honor to—” But Hyunjin cut him off when the man went to kneel.
“No, please.” Hyunjin hated this. How people either respected him because of his last name or despised him because of it. As if there was no in-between. “Stand, Mr. Seonghwa. And let me wish you a warm—but late—welcome into my home. Thank you for accepting to come work here.”
Few people actually wanted to work for him. Because of his last name, of course. Thankfully, being a Hwang had the perk of making him rich, which greatly helped when it was time to find staff.
“Thank you for offering the job, my lord.” Seonghwa’s smile grew larger if it were even possible. His eyes shone under the dim light of the lanterns. “When Lord Christopher told me about it… I couldn’t refuse. I’ve always liked your estate, sir.”
Hyunjin felt a strange pride rise within him. There was one thing he did like and it was the manor itself, its stone walls, its large windows, and the pine forest surrounding the grounds. He liked the garden, too, and its fragrant flowers, and the magnolia tree.
“I’m very much looking forward to having you among us, Mr. Seonghwa. Are things going smoothly?”
Changbin seemed to have calmed down, but Hyunjin knew he owed him an apology, and not just for the last few moments in the carriage. He had been insufferable all week, tortured by regret and dark thoughts during the day, and haunted by the memory of you at night. Your delicate hand around his cock… your face as you had tasted and swallowed his cum. He was certain he would become crazy. Insane. That he would have to be institutionalized.
“Quite good, or so I think.” Seonghwa was helping the driver as he piled up bags, and Hyunjin joined them while Changbin was gathering the belongings left on the seat. “Dr. Lee arrived a couple of days ago and he’s settling in well. Oh, and there was a minor plumbing issue in the east wing but it was fixed the same day with no damage, my lord.”
Hyunjin nodded. He’d need to meet with Dr. Lee as soon as possible, but he figured it could wait as it was already late. After all, they weren’t supposed to return tonight—the initial plan involved them staying overnight in the nearby town instead of traveling in the dark, but Hyunjin had offered Changbin to travel for a little longer so that he could be reunited with his family sooner. Of course, Changbin had accepted, and while Hyunjin knew he had been eager to be with them again, he also knew his friend had read him like an open book.
“Thank you, Seonghwa.” Hyunjin cleared his throat, thankful for the darkness. He leaned against the bags, taking a deep breath. “Do you happen to know if my wife has gone to bed?” Ignoring Changbin’s side glance, he went on. “I bought a few things for her on my travels.”
Anhjong had left for a few minutes for the kitchen, bringing back with her a pitcher of lemonade and empty glasses. She had been avoiding his gaze, but did a very poor job at suppressing her amused smile when she heard Hyunjin.
“Ah, we haven’t seen much of your lady wife this week, have we, my lord?” Seonghwa chuckled, sharing a knowing smile with Anhjong. “She’s been quite busy with her apiary.”
Hyunjin’s heart jumped in his chest. “So she likes them? The bees?”
It was Anhjong who responded to him. “That would be an understatement, my lord.” She offered him a glass of cool lemonade, which he accepted eagerly. He noticed it wasn’t quite the same as usual. Just as sweet, but a different kind of sweet. It had been made with honey instead of sugar. “Mr. Seonghwa isn’t exaggerating—we’ve barely managed to keep your wife indoors for more than an hour at a time since she’s received your gift.”
He tried to remain calm and to keep his composure. Hyunjin drank the lemonade in one go, putting the empty glass back on the tray. “She can’t be still out there at this hour, can she?” He couldn’t see your window from here.
“I actually am not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” the maid admitted. “I’ll go get her, my lord.”
Hyunjin sounded a little too keen when he spoke. “No, that’s alright!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, it is late, Ahnjong. You and Mr. Seonghwa deserve to get some rest. Where did they install the apiary, exactly?”
“Oh, not far from the furthermost entrance of the garden, by the pine tree,” Seonghwa explained.
Hyunjin breathed deeply, hesitating. “Then I should go check up on her, make sure she gets back inside. Goodnight, everybody.” He offered a shitty but apologetic smile to Changbin. “Say hi to Ha-ri for me, will you?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
After urging everyone to get to their rooms, Hyunjin started his journey around the manor to reach you. He actually took the longer route just to give himself some time to clear his mind, to think about something other than the ideas clouding his thoughts. Your lips, soft, delicate, coated in honey. Or his saliva, or his cum. Your laugh, the one you had when you really meant it. The letters you had written for him and the sweet gifts you had attached.
There were many things Hyunjin didn't like about himself. In fact, he may have many enemies in this world but nobody hated him as much as he hated himself. But you had changed things. And perhaps you had changed him—it certainly felt like it, although he couldn’t say how exactly. But you were his favorite thing about his life, and had been for a long time.
It was completely dark by the time he reached the spot, but the soft lighting of the dining room window sufficed to tell Hyunjin you weren’t, in fact, working on your apiary tonight. He couldn’t see too well, but he noticed the apiary itself sitting on top of what seemed to be a sturdy table. Another table had been added next to it, with a couple of chairs and some tools and other supplies. He dared not approach—would the bees react to him, attack him?
Instead, Hyunjin looked farther down the path ahead of him. If he followed it, he would continue to circle the manor and eventually pass your window. If I see light, I’ll at least let her know I’m home, Hyunjin decided. It seemed like the sort of thing a husband would do, right?
His mouth was dry despite the lemonade. Would you even want to talk to him? Maybe the time apart had been enough for you to realize what a loser he really was—for all he knew, the reason you apparently spent all your time outside was because you couldn’t bear to be elsewhere. Maybe—
Hyunjin’s train of thoughts was cut abruptly when he noticed the light in your window. It was dim, but it was there. No more than a candle or two, but enough to let him know that you were awake. You liked to read before bed, you had always told him in your letters. It had made him want to be a talented author so that he could write for you, endlessly, story after story.
Instead of heading back inside, Hyunjin decided to go up the outdoor stairs leading to your balcony. This way, he’d be able to make sure you were actually awake instead of knocking at your door and risk waking you.
He wouldn’t be mad if you were asleep. Would it be wrong to stay there and watch you? Just for a little while? He hadn’t been able to stare at you long enough, and maybe his whole entire life wouldn’t be enough anyway. As if your beauty was too grand, too intricate, for him to process in just a few minutes, hours, or even years. It was the sort of beauty that started from within, that grew from your heart, extending to every part of you.
The sort of beauty that his mere existence would be enough to taint it. To ruin it, to ruin you.
Hyunjin heard you when he reached the top of the staircase. The curtains were pulled, but you had left the door cracked open, and the sound came from there. He stopped in his tracks, almost falling down the stairs, listening more closely. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Surely, he hadn’t heard well. Surely, it was something else.
Until he heard your voice again. Moaning, breathing hard, whimpering. Moans so beautiful it made him want to cry. Moans so beautiful it made his cock twitch, and an aching pressure grew inside of him.
And then the anger came. Were you with a man in there? Were you actually letting a man have his way with you while you thought Hyunjin was still away?
Hyunjin wanted many things at once—he wanted to turn back and run away, far far away. He wanted to barge into the room and kill the man who dared touch you, to make you moan like that. He wanted to sit here on the cool rock of the balcony and listen to you and cry.
But instead, he took a look inside.
When he was little, Hyunjin had ventured out of the manor, craving adventure. Craving solitude, too. He was usually allowed in the garden on his own but no farther. That day, however, he had gone into the pine forest, and he had walked for a long time. Just him, a pen, and a piece of paper. He also kept a bottle of ink in his pocket in case he ran out, but he took note of all the things he saw that day. Deer, partridges, a few minks here and there. Foxes, ravens, all sorts of warblers he couldn’t name. Another strange bird whose voice sounded like a flute. He had thought he saw a bear in the distance but he wasn’t sure.
Anyway—Hyunjin had gotten lost that day following the trail of a badger. He just wanted to catch a glimpse of it and its striking black-and-white face. The sun was already on its way down when he had realized he couldn’t find his way back to the estate, and a wave of panic had spread through him, taking up all the space inside his veins, his whole body, doubling his body weight, or so it had felt like it. There had been many layers to that panic—his father would kill him when he’d find out, and what would the maids say behind his back? Would they blame his mother? Was it too late—could he avoid being caught at all? Surely, nobody had noticed his absence. Right? Right? Right?
He felt sort of like that tonight but instead of surging through him, the state of alarm grew slowly and steadily, setting fire to his skin. He could not look away from the inside of the room, could not look away from the bed.
He could not look away from you.
There was a lot to process and watching you truly felt like being lost in a forest after dark. You were on the bed, on your knees, and your body was undulating much like the branches of a willow on a breezy day, or maybe like the waves of a stormy sea. You had a white nightgown over your body but it did very little to conceal your thighs and Hyunjin could see something in between them. It wasn’t a man, or a woman, and it wasn’t even your own hand.
You were rubbing yourself onto one of your pillows, squirming and moaning and rolling your hips, seeking pleasure in each movement. The moans were quiet as you often bit your lip to prevent being heard. But you couldn’t help it, the little whimpers, the gasps, as you fucked yourself onto that pillow.
Hyunjin watched, stunned, observing every detail of the scene, every detail of you. The white, almost see-through fabric of your sleep gown, allowing him to see your nipples poking through and the soft color of them. He wished it wasn’t so dark and he wished he could see better.
He wished that instead of the pillow, it was him between your legs. Blood rushed to his cock as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust, as your head fell back when the rolling of your hips intensified. He was throbbing already, his erection pressing against his pants almost painfully. He wanted nothing more than to join you and fuck you into your mattress, over and over, filling you to the brim. He wanted nothing more than seeing his own seed drip from the hole he had just fucked sloppy.
He wanted to eat his cum off your pretty cunt and kiss you with his mouth full of it.
He felt his cock over his trousers, imagining it were your hand fondling him, picturing your bare breasts and his mouth over them. Maybe he would cum on them, too. If he could, if he were anything but what he was—the Orphan or Lord Hwang or whatever—he would fuck every part of you. Your virgin cunt, your tight ass, your pretty tits. He would fuck your mouth, watch his cock disappear between your peach-colored lips, and listen to the sound of you choking on the cum he would spurt directly into your throat.
His eyes followed your movement—his hand, too. He rubbed himself to the same swaying motion as your hips. If any blood was still flowing to his brain, he would notice the amplitude of your movements. But all he had in mind was to be in the place of that pillow and to watch you take all of him, just like that, just like the little whore you were.
He had to bite into his fist when you came. You came the same way an angel would ascend from earth after a divine visit—quick humps on the pillows followed by long, languid ones, both of your hands on your breasts, your legs wide open. Hyunjin had been to museums a few times and none of the paintings there could compare to the art that was your orgasm.
Deep, raspy moans, long ones, moans that you couldn’t keep quiet. Your voice made him want to die—if he wasn’t the one making you scream, what was the point anyway? Your voice made him want to live forever, because the existence of you was the point of life itself. You, the perfection that you were, his pretty wife fucking herself—and fucking herself good. Good enough to fill your bedroom with your honeyed voice, in waves of pleasure more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before.
His cock was throbbing and leaking by the time you collapsed onto your bed with a sigh, spent and content. He quickly disappeared behind the door, fearing you might see him now that you were done. But he couldn’t hold himself for much longer. Hell, if you decided to go at it again, he didn’t think he could resist joining you. Maybe he’d fuck you once on your bed, then he’d bend you over your table and fuck his cum deeper into you until he had rendered you properly dumb, until you had lost your words.
The knock on the door inside your bedroom brought him back to his senses. “My lady?”
It seemed to shock you just as much as it shocked him. He heard an abrupt brushing of fabric and figured you had probably quickly covered yourself. “Anhjong? What is it?” Your voice was trembling a little and you were out of breath. He wanted nothing more than to kiss your neck and revel in the taste of your sweat.
“I’m so sorry to bother you my lady, I saw light and…” The maid’s voice trailed off, just for a few seconds. “Lord Hwang just returned and he… he was looking for you, my lady. He went to look for you at the apiary but you weren’t there, and I thought you’d like to be informed of his return.”
The silence that spread in the room was thicker than honey. “Hyunjin? He was supposed to be back tomorrow.” Again, brushing of fabrics, but followed by footsteps now. You had gotten up. Hyunjin gulped and closed his eyes, hoping you wouldn’t be coming anywhere near this side of the room. He feared you might hear his pulse if you did, for his heart had rarely beat so strongly before.
He heard more ruffling and a door being opened. “Where is he now?” you asked. “Did he say why he was back early?”
Hyunjin heard the playful smile in your maid’s voice. “According to Mr. Seo, Lord Hwang tried to insist it was to make sure he would be reunited with Ha-ri sooner.” She chuckled silently. “But I think he missed you, my lady.”
You didn’t say anything for several seconds, and Hyunjin couldn’t hear ambient noises while a breeze blew over. It faded after a while but you still hadn’t spoken.
When you did, it was with a much steadier voice than you had earlier. “How do I look? My hair?”
“Beautiful, my lady. Should I send Mr. Seonghwa to find Lord Hyunjin?”
“No thank you, Anhjong—I’ll find him myself, he can’t be very far.” He heard more footsteps, and the beginning of another sentence, but it was cut off when you closed the door behind you after leaving your bedroom.
… and Hyunjin breathed again, finally filling his lungs and exhaling painfully. He was still dizzy and he knew now it had very little to do with his lack of oxygen. What would you have thought of him if you had found him like this, stalking you during this intimate moment with a hand over the bulge in his trousers?
He knew two things—he needed to cum and he needed to get the fuck out of there. If you had been told he was outside, it was likely that he’d encounter you if he went down the steps and through the main entrance. He did not want you to see him in the state he was in, not after being absent, not after what had happened before he left.
Hyunjin would go through your bedroom and into the hallway and lock himself in his bedroom to take care of the ache in his balls. And then he’d let you see him, perhaps, if he had calmed down. If he could ever calm down.
There were voices in Hyunjin’s mind, and one of them kept telling him that he would never, ever be content, never feel satiated, not if he couldn’t have you.
He smelled you the second he stepped into the room and it made the simple task of walking difficult. There were a few scents floating in the room—the floral water they soaked your linen in, your perfume, and the faint smell of your previous home that lingered on your clothes and your belongings, like the salt of the ocean. But the only scent that seemed to be of any importance to Hyunjin was you—not whatever you sprayed behind your ears. Your essence.
He should have crossed the room and not paid any mind to anything but your bed caught his attention. The pillow was still on it, exactly where it had been while you were riding it and cumming all over it. The bed was unmade, unruly, and he wanted to lie on it and coat himself in your scent. He wanted to wait for you there.
He did not. Instead, he came closer. The bed was still warm but that wasn’t the important part—in the dim light of the candles, Hyunjin could see that the pillow was wet. There was a stain where your pussy had been moments ago, and it glistened under the quivering flames. He choked on his air, his blood boiling under his skin. Surely, this is how dying felt like.
His aching cock begged him to please, please touch the stain, inhale your scent, fill his lungs with it. Naturally, Hyunjin obliged.
He reached for the soft pillow, pulling it towards him and then under his nose. His pulse was so loud that he wouldn’t hear you if you came back into the room but he was past caring. All of his troubles had evaporated into thin air, replaced by the ghost of your moans echoing in his ears and the sweet scent of your virgin cunt. He smelled again, and again, his cock pulsing each time.
Your scent was as pretty as you were. Hyunjin’s eyelids fluttered when his lips accidentally brushed against the damp fabric of the pillow, harvesting a few drops of your juices on them. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—
There was no turning back now. Hyunjin inhaled deeply before carefully parting his lips to lick you off the pillow. He couldn’t let it go to waste, could he?
Your taste hit him like a violent storm, like an earthquake, like a song, like the first day of spring. You tasted sweet and tangy with deeper, more complex whispers of salt, musk and honey. One lick was not enough to comprehend the intricacy of your essence—Hyunjin began lapping frantically at the stain you had left while burying his hand into his trousers to relieve the unbearable pressure in his groin. His cock was the hardest it had ever been, and warm to the touch.
He used the pillow to muffle his moan when he squeezed himself. He was close already. He wanted to cum, finally, to rid himself of the ache. He never wanted to cum, he wanted to stay here, lost in your scent, your taste. The pillow wasn’t enough—he needed his face buried into your pussy, your sweet juices coating him, your thighs around his neck, your weight on his throat. It should have been him you were straddling, it should have been his face you were riding. For hours. For days. It didn’t matter if Hyunjin died there because he would have reached heaven before his last breath.
It took three strokes for Hyunjin to cum. He came thinking of fucking your virgin cunt with his tongue and teasing your clit until you sank your finger nails into his scalp. He came thinking of your soaked folds, of your pretty pussy, all creamy, just for him. He came thinking of your moans turning into his name that you were chanting, over and over, as he fucked you. He came so hard that he lost his balance and ended with one knee on your bed as he shot long strings of cum, soiling his pants. He gasped and whined into your pillow and your juices as he pulsed into his palm, his whole body convulsing through his orgasm.
Maybe it took him an hour to recover. Maybe it took him a minute. His cum was dripping down his thigh, almost reaching his knee, when Hyunjin managed to stand upright again. He let go of your pillow, putting it back on the bed where it had been. Hyunjin adjusted his softening cock into his pants and wiped his hand on them. He would need to change. He needed to clean up. You’d smell him and you’d smell yourself on him, too, if you saw him.
So Hyunjin made a run for it, bolting out of the room and carefully closing the door behind him. The hallway was dimly lit, but he noticed Cloud as the kitten chased something. A mouse, or a bug perhaps. She paid him no mind as Hyunjin ran to his room as quietly as he could.
Shame overcame him when he pressed his back against the closed—and locked—door of his own bedroom. It washed over him slowly and he closed his eyes. He could still smell you. He could still taste you. His cock was still tingling with the aftershock of his strong orgasm.
Every time he took a breath, your scent invaded him again, and the taste of your pussy haunted his lips. This whole time, his whole life, he had been certain that by marrying you, he was going to make you miserable—that you’d be a prisoner. A captive of the misery he had put you in.
But now he understood. You may have been a prisoner but so was he. His wrists were bound by an invisible thread made of shame and guilt and gold. He was just as much of a captive as you were, but his goaler had lips softer than silk and a pussy that tasted sweeter than honey. People thought of him as unstable, people said he was insane—but Hyunjin knew that was nothing compared to the madness that would conquer him over time. Simply because you were his wife. Simply because he’d rather destroy himself than letting you pay the price of his father’s mistakes.
Hyunjin jumped when someone knocked at his door. Afraid it might be you, he quickly pressed against the door to make sure that you wouldn’t be able to open it despite it being locked.
He sighed in relief when he heard Seonghwa’s voice. “My lord? Are you in there? Your lady wife is looking for you—she was not outside, but indoors.”
Hyunjin took a deep breath. “Thank you, Seonghwa.” He hesitated. “I realized I was rather grimy after all this travel and that I should change before meeting with my wife. In fact, could you send a basin of warm water, please?”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll make sure her ladyship is informed that you’ll meet her shortly.”
Hyunjin didn’t even respond—besides, he heard Seonghwa’s footsteps as he walked away in the hallway. He didn’t waste any more time and went into the bathroom to undress. Someone must have been warned of their arrival because they had lit up his bedroom already, and the room basked in the soft lighting of a few lanterns and some candles. He watched the flames dance for a few seconds before using a handkerchief to wipe the cum that was drying on his thigh. He wrapped himself in a robe while Ahnjong herself brought the water. She still had this smile on her face that Hyunjin simply couldn’t read.
“Thank you, Anhjong.” The maid also left him with clean towels. “I’ll be downstairs very soon.” He wasn’t even sure he wanted to see you right now, not that the idea was unpleasant, but more because he didn’t know how he would react. And yet, he had missed you. More than he thought he would.
“Actually, my lord, your wife has asked me to let you know she’ll be waiting for you in her bedroom in a little while.” The maid’s smile grew wider but she did her best to conceal it. “She is washing up as well and will be ready promptly.”
Yes, of course—you’d want to wash the scent of sex off your skin before meeting with him. Same as he was doing. In another life, his scent would have been laced with yours. Perhaps he would bathe with you after making love to you, and massage your favorite oils into your skin. Would you let him brush your hair? Would you let him wrap you in soft blankets and hold you until you fell asleep?
This life that could never be. This life that would haunt him.
“I’ll be quick,” he assured, and Anhjong exited the room, leaving Hyunjin alone.
Hyunjin washed up, starting with his face. Despite the warmth of the air, the hot water felt good on his skin, melting the day away, and the sweat, and maybe a little bit of the shame, too. But it would take a lot more than warm water to erase all of it—Hyunjin didn’t think that anything could ever rid him of this burden anyway.
You sat for what seemed like a long while on the stone railing of your balcony. You needed fresh air—your heart was beating in your chest as if you had run laps around the estate, and one might have believed that you had a fever based on the warmth emanating from your skin. But it was not that at all. You were nervous. Excited, maybe. A little bit of both.
Hyunjin was back. Finally.
You had missed him, missed his presence around the manor, missed the sight of him wandering the garden in the afternoon. The sound of his voice, the scratching of his pen on paper, his delicate footsteps. You had missed him and yet you feared his return. He gave you bees. He gave you a colony of bees, you kept repeating yourself. The night was clear and there were stars in it, twinkling and shining and decorating the dark-blue sky. It must have been a new moon because you couldn’t see it. There was a knot in your stomach. He gave you a bee colony, but what did it actually mean?
Would he speak to you gently? Would he tell you all about his business trip, the people he met? Would he tell you about the foods he ate, about the work he did? Would he ask you about the bees?
You looked down at the small table in between the set of chairs that had been placed for your convenience, so you could enjoy your balcony. The bottle of whiskey you had bought for Hyunjin waited here—when he would join you, Seonghwa would take care of moving the other gift you had found for Hyunjin into his room. You hoped that he would like it.
You hoped that he would drink some whiskey, that you would hear him call you darling again, that he would kiss you and touch you, that his tongue would play with yours again. You hoped for more, you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help craving him, his smooth cock, his scent. His voice in your ear, whispering everything and nothing all at once. The look on his face while he came—the ecstasy overcoming him, taking control of his soul. You wanted to feel him again. Taste him again.
Hyunjin knocked at your door just a few minutes later—you were grateful he didn’t leave you to wait for too long, as you were a little impatient to see him again. You didn’t even know how he would behave. After all, after the other night, he had barely talked to you, and then he had left…
You recognized his personal knock. It was short yet melodic. “Yes,” you said, making sure to speak up to be heard. “Come in.” But you didn’t hear the door being pushed open due to how deafening your heartbeat was.
You had forgotten how handsome he was. You knew that he was handsome, but it was as if his absence had made you forget exactly the extent of his beauty. You observed him as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, noticing that he did not lock it. He was wearing a white linen shirt and dark slacks, but his hair was unruly and he seemed tired. Or maybe that was a trick of the light.
He was looking around the room, evidently searching for you. “I’m outside,” you called. “Care to join me for a drink?” You took the bottle from the table, hiding it behind your back. Childish, foolish. And yet. Your skin was pricking from the anticipation of being reunited with your husband, as fucked up as your marriage was.
Hyunjin paused, or hesitated, before crossing the room. You stood as he stepped foot on the balcony, unable to look away from him, his angelic face and the dark locks of hair framing it. His lips like rose petals, his molasses eyes. You froze in place, air stuck in your throat, the memory of his body against yours invading your mind, clouding it.
He froze too, staring at you intently, his eyes going up and down and left and right, waltzing over your body like a skilled dancer would on a dancefloor. And yet, his gaze always returned to yours, although it tended to melt a little and linger on your lips more than elsewhere.
You dipped your head—just a little, not too much so as not to upset him. “Welcome back, Hyunjin.” You smiled when you looked at him again. “I’m happy to see you.”
He did not move, did not bat an eye. Hyunjin stared at you for a long while, a frown forming between his brows. You wanted to jump over the balcony railing and run away in shame.
He must have noticed a sudden change in your mood, but he stuttered when he spoke. “I’m—I’m very—huh—” He gulped thickly and bit his lower lip. “You’re happy to see me.”
He hadn’t said it as a question, not even really as a statement—Hyunjin was repeating your words as if he hadn’t grasped the meaning of them, despite the words being quite simple.
“I’m glad you’re back,” you tried again, hoping the message would reach him, but it didn’t look like it did. You decided to act quickly and pulled the whiskey bottle from behind your back. “This is just a small welcome-back gift. And a thank you gift, too.”
Hyunjin blinked, staring at the whiskey. “For me?”
Would he just repeat everything you said like this until you both grew old and gray? “Yes, for you.” You shook the bottle, inviting him to take it from you. “Be honest with me if you don’t like this. I wanted something special for you.”
Slowly, Hyunjin reached for the whiskey and looked at the bottle under the flame of a candle. “Infused with botanicals?” His voice was soft, low, almost like he didn’t want to be heard. “I never tried that before.” He frowned again, meeting your gaze. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to.” You leaned against the railing, welcoming the cool stone under your touch. You paused, searching for the right words, but there was no right or wrong here, just the blunt, simple truth. “You bought a bee colony. For me.”
Hyunjin nodded, putting the whiskey bottle on the table as he worked on opening it. “Yes, it was a pure coincidence that one of our wheels needed repair exactly at this location.” Every word he said filled his mouth like notes played on a piano before spilling from his plush lips like the most gentle breeze. “I… I know it doesn’t erase what I did.” Maybe he found it easier to speak with you when he was looking away from you. “I hope it makes you happier. A little.”
“What you did?” You sighed, hoping he didn’t mean what you thought he meant. “Are you talking about… about the other night, before you left?”
It took several seconds before Hyunjin spoke again. “I should not have disrespected you. I’m your husband.”
Sometimes, you could still feel him rutting against you, your hand wrapped around his pretty cock. Thinking about it made you wet. “You didn’t disrespect me. I’m your wife.”
Hyunjin turned around swiftly, facing you. He was closer now, just inches away from you, towering over you—but you were not frightened, no matter how upset he may look. Darkness may have made a home out of him, but you had never been afraid of the dark. “And you think that I should treat you like this just because you’ve had the misfortune of being promised to me?”
You took a deep breath. To keep your composure. To inhale his scent. He smelled like freshly pressed clothes and sweat and cologne, and you wanted to bury your face in his neck. “It’s not a misfortune.” Why you were happy to be his wife eluded you, but you were, and you couldn’t deny it. “Not to me,” you added, knowing full well he was projecting his own issues onto you.
To relieve his bitterness, maybe. Or something. After all, Hyunjin was an important man—his father may have done what he did, it had only affected his wife and son. It had taken nothing away from the weight of the Hwang name. A weight that burdened Hyunjin… and you, too, now.
But Hyunjin was important enough that he could have married some relative of the king himself. Hyunjin looked like a prince, sometimes acted like one. A tortured one, but still—you knew he didn’t resent you, but you also knew he resented his marriage to you.
Your husband gazed into your eyes, scanning your irises as if you were a book written in a foreign language. You tried to hold his gaze but it was difficult. You wanted to look at his lips, too, to remember what they felt like.
He just shook his head, did not deny your suspicions. “Thank you. For the whiskey.” He wet his lips with one enticing swipe of the tongue. “Let’s have a drink.”
You sat down while he unscrewed the cork, looking away. You couldn’t see much from here, but looking at the dark night was better than the alternative. Not that Hyunjin was unpleasant to look at—quite the contrary.
The more you stared at him, the more love for him grew in your heart, and you knew it could destroy you.
The familiar sound of the amber liquid being poured in your glass brought you back to reality. Hyunjin raised his glass at you after sitting across from you and you returned the gesture, still letting him have the first taste. You did study him as he coated his mouth with the liquid, letting its flavors spread on his taste buds. His expression softened and the corners of his lips turned into a faint smile.
“This is delicious, actually.” He signaled you to have a taste. “I’ve never tasted anything like this.”
Neither had you. The whiskey itself was crisp, yet sweet, and yet undeniably vegetal. It tasted like a summer day. Like freshly cut grass, like rosemary, like marjoram, like bitter orange, like juniper berries. The man who had sold it to you had also mentioned it being infused with saffron and fir needles.
“Oh my god,” Hyunjin added, drinking more, licking every drop of it off his plush lips. “How come I never had this before?” He was staring at the content of his glass as if it contained the answers to his question. The whiskey was darker than a regular one, but you still saw the candle flames reflect on it like a dance.
You chuckled, pleased that your gift had the desired effect on him. “I doubt you often do your own shopping, especially not in town,” you pointed out. “Am I wrong?”
“You’re not.” Hyunjin had finished his glass and was already pouring himself another, not even asking before adding some whiskey to yours. “I’m not very popular, as I’m sure you’ve noticed if you did go.” Suddenly, he frowned, looking at you inquisitively. “You didn’t go alone, did you?”
“I was with Mr. Seonghwa and Ha-ri.” You thought about Kim Taehyung’s condescending attitude, letting Hyunjin drink a few more sips of liquor before breaking the news to him. “I bought a few tables for myself—the apiary—and for Ha-ri’s sewing, too.”
“No problem at all, I will settle the bills at the end of the month.” Hyunjin was still enthralled by the whiskey and the scene was almost endearing. He was now studying the label on the bottle, often returning to a sip or to smell it.
“I paid with my own money.” You put your glass back on the table. Hyunjin looked away from the bottle, his frown returning. “That’s not the point I was trying to make. I bought the tables at the Jeons’ shop.”
You often saw a passing darkness clouding Hyunjin’s eyes, turning them from molasses on pound cake to ink stains on fancy paper. One wasn’t more beautiful than the other, but one made you worry. You reached for him across the table, putting your hand on his forearm. He flinched, but you squeezed him a little tighter. Gently.
You didn’t let him lie to you. You didn’t want him to have to lie to you. “I had been warned beforehand of the… delicate situation between you and Lord Jungkook. And his mother, too.” Hyunjin shot a frightened stare at you. “I decided not to entertain a rivalry between your late father and Lord Jeon’s also very dead father.”
Hyunjin gulped, eyeing his glass, but remaining still. “Was he there?” he asked, his voice so low that you could barely make out the words. “Jungkook?”
“No, he wasn’t.” You let go of Hyunjin, and he reached for his glass. “His business partner made the transaction with us.”
“That Kim guy?”
“Yes.” You paused, hesitating. “What an arrogant prick.”
This stunned Hyunjin. You watched the clouds lift from his eyes, much like the strong winds clearing the skies after a storm. He had difficulty swallowing the whiskey while he suppressed his laughter.
“I couldn’t have said it better.” A smile looked good on him. Like it belonged there. “I hope you didn’t let him talk down on you.”
“I sure as fuck didn’t, Hyunjin. I don’t think I helped your cause. I don’t think I made you any more popular, not at all.” At this, the both of you laughed together, putting your hands over your mouths to cover the noise.
You drank a little while recovering your breath. This is all you wanted. All your life you had known that you would become Lady Hwang—you hadn’t known it would turn out like this. You hadn’t known that Hyunjin would rather be burned alive than consummate the marriage. You hadn’t known that doubt would be at the back of your mind, day and night, as you wondered what you needed to do to make him love you. You had been foolish, but could you forgive yourself for that?
But this—tonight—wasn’t bad. Expensive whiskey and a chat with your husband.
“I don’t care that they hate me,” Hyunjin said after a while. “It’s not like I ever see them anyway.”
You bit your lip with a sigh. “About that…” Concern grew within you, tugging at your heart. You emptied your glass in one go, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Lord Jeon sent us an invitation for a dinner he is hosting, and I already accepted.”
“You did what?”
You had never been afraid of the dark, whether it was in your bedroom, under your bed, in a closet, or in Hyunjin’s eyes. But what about when his gaze turned to fire? You recoiled, pressing your back against your chair. For a moment, you thought Hyunjin would lash at you, but not like a predator—like a wounded animal, desperate, fighting for survival, knowing its demise was inevitable.
Hyunjin’s voice was trembling, but you couldn’t tell whether it was with fear or rage. Maybe, most likely, it was with an ugly mix of both. “When did we receive this letter? And why did you take it upon yourself to accept the invitation without consulting me?”
You held his gaze. You weren’t used to the scene unfolding in front of you. You had heard men raise their voices for much less than this. You had heard men become upset for petty reasons, but you had never, ever seen so much alarm in one before—certainly not for something as insignificant as a response to a letter.
And yet, all that you could see in Hyunjin was terror.
“Your father hated his and they had a rivalry,” you responded. “It doesn’t mean you have to hate him.”
Hyunjin hit the table with his fist—your glass clinked loudly against the bottle, but you didn’t jump. Not on the outside anyway. You expected him to scold you, to rebuke you, you expected him to strike you. Most men would have.
Yet when he spoke, his voice was slow, faint, like his throat was strained. “It’s not about hate. It was never about hate, darling.”
Most men would not hesitate to strike their wives if they infringed such obvious rules, but Hyunjin didn’t need to. All he had to do was let that word dance on his lips, offering it to you like a dagger to the heart.
You pushed yourself up, pacing on the balcony for a few seconds. Hyunjin’s obstinate stoicism didn’t help. Maybe you had wanted him to fight back, to punish you somehow. Maybe you had wanted a reaction out of him, any reaction, no matter the nature of it. Maybe you wanted him to touch you, even if it meant hurting you with a wrath bigger than himself.
His glass was empty and Hyunjin drank from the bottle instead of filling it again.
“I’m going to bed,” was all he said, and he left with the whiskey.
You stared at the chair he had just vacated, your mind as blank as your heart. You tried enumerating all the reasons why you had decided Hyunjin and you should attend this dinner. You had good reasons and they came from a good place, but you understood why he was hurt.
And of course, you should have consulted him before, but doing so would have resulted in his immediate refusal anyway. He always locked himself away, even when he paced the garden, when he was working, when he was talking to you. He locked his heart away, making sure that nothing could ever reach it.
But at what cost?
And now he was going to stay enraged and lock himself in his bedroom and—
You remembered what was waiting for him in his room. The gift you had gotten him—the actual gift, as if a simple bottle of whiskey could ever repay the gesture behind him buying that apiary for you.
You went after him, bolting out of your room to see if he was still in the hallway, but you didn’t even hear his footsteps. You ran after him, only to find him standing in the frame of his door, bottle of whiskey still in hand, but frozen in place.
“Hyunjin…” You looked past him, inside his room. Seonghwa had left the gift exactly where you had asked him to.
An easel made of copper and imported rosewood. With sketching paper and canvases and paints and brushes and pencils, too.
Hyunjin’s father had never let him draw. There was so much darkness that came from the things his father had done—and the things he did not let Hyunjin be. But it didn’t have to stay this way.
“The whiskey was only part of the gift…” Your voice was small, foreign. You realized you were shy, even embarrassed. Now that you were facing it, you could tell how desperate you looked—how desperate you were. Desperate for him. For anything from him.
When Hyunjin turned to you, his eyes were wet. No tear rolled down his chiseled face, as though the abysses of his eyes were deep enough to hold them in, and maybe they were.
“I apologize,” you uttered, approaching him warily. “I’m sorry about Lord Jeon, and the dinner.” You meant it. You hoped he could see that. “I know you’ve been cultivating all those malignant thoughts inside you, and I fear… I fear they will fester, perhaps, some day. That they will take over your heart. I wanted to help you. I wanted to offer you a chance at something else… anything else.”
He turned back, facing the easel again. Seonghwa had left it in the bedroom but not far from the door leading to Hyunjin’s study, right by the window. During the day, he would have plenty of light to paint or draw.
But Hyunjin did not speak.
“I shouldn’t have done this,” you went on, following him into the room as he went in, but still keeping some distance between you two. “In fact, I will draft another letter to the Jeon family right this instant—I’ll explain that I became very ill, that we won’t be able to make it to the dinner.”
It seemed Hyunjin wasn’t listening to you. He left the whiskey bottle by the small table and reached for the easel, caressing the rosewood as gently as if he had been touching a newborn baby, or perhaps the delicate blossoms of a cherry tree. You could hear his breathing, steady but louder than usual. He felt the bristles of the paint brushes, one by one. He studied the paints too, each color, and looked at the tin box containing the perfectly sharpened pencils. They glide like butter, Bill had told you at the crafts store. He had helped you select the absolute best supplies, sparing no expense to make sure Hyunjin could experience art at least once.
It had been taken away from him at such a young age. Too early to be refusing such simple things to a child, whether it was a piece of chocolate, some pencils and paper, or the right to climb a tree. And maybe this was what had made him the way he was, much more than the number of affairs his father had.
Hyunjin’s voice was barely audible. Small, uncertain. “Is this all for me?” Like he couldn’t believe it. Like he didn’t want to believe it.
“Of course it is, Hyunjin.” You took yet another step toward him, and another, until you were close enough to smell him. “You don’t have to like it. If you don’t want any of it, I’m sure we can bring them to Ha-ri’s little girls, they—”
One second, you were standing behind Hyunjin, facing his back as he studied the items before him. The next, he swirled around and pulled you against him. Your body so close to his. Your body belonged in his embrace, it felt like. He closed his arms around you, enveloping you comfortably, squeezing you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm and it smelled like whiskey.
You wanted to ask him to please kiss you again. You wanted to ask him if he had fucked any pregnant women during his trip.
Hyunjin squeezed you tighter. “I love it.” His voice wouldn’t sound any different if he had been crying. “I want it. I want all of it. I want…” But the rest of his sentence trailed off, and you didn’t push it. Your husband kept you in his arms for a long time and you stayed right there, with your face against his chest, listening to his heart. It was slowing down gently.
Hyunjin didn’t let you see his face as he pulled away and you respected that boundary, instead decided to pick up the whiskey bottle to go and pour two glasses of it. As you busied yourself, you listened to noises in your back—Hyunjin discovering his gifts, his soft breathing, his sharp inhales.
You wondered what your life would have been like if you hadn’t been allowed to raise bees and become a beekeeper. How bitter would that have made you?
When you returned to the study, you found Hyunjin carefully placing a canvas on the easel and adjusting it. “I’ll try some of the paint,” he explained, and it was as if he hadn’t been upset at all just moments ago. “I’ve never actually done this before…”
“Then you should try watercolors,” you advised, pulling the tubes from the pile of paint. “Bill said they’re easier than oil.”
“I’ll just do colors,” Hyunjin went on with an enthusiasm you had never seen in him.
He really did just do colors, and you watched him do so. You watched as Hyunjin carefully mixed the colors, making different shades of blue or orange or red before he applied them on the canvas, blending them with a sponge or with a clean brush. Sometimes, he would stop for a few moments and just stare before returning to his paint, mixing new colors and starting over. The glass of whiskey remained by his side, forgotten.
You watched him paint, you watched the way he held the brushes—awkwardly at first, then, with more confidence. He wouldn’t speak, but sometimes he muttered a few words to himself. You didn’t speak either, you just sat on his bed, watching your husband be himself for, maybe, the first time in his life. Soon enough, three, then four canvases were laid around the room to dry, saturated in bold colors. Gradients and blotches and shapes. Colors. You wondered if, perhaps, Hyunjin was trying to show you the colors of his heart. You wondered if perhaps he was just trying to figure out what exactly were the colors of his heart.
You fought it when you became sleepy, lulled by the whiskey and the newfound comfort of this strange intimacy. Hyunjin and you, in the same room, not speaking a word and yet undeniably… together. As normal people.
You fought sleep until you no longer could. By then, most of the candles had burnt out in the room. But this is what you saw as you fell asleep in Hyunjin’s bed—him, in front of his easel, the light from a wall lamp dancing over him and the art he had wanted to make all his life.
That night, you fell asleep as Lady Hwang. When you woke up the next morning, your husband was laying next to you, on his side, with his back facing you. The room was filled with the soft morning light. Hyunjin was there—close, so close, so warm. He smelled good even though the scent of last night’s whiskey lingered on both of you. You touched his silky soft hair, felt the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips.
Every day, you woke up as the one and only thing you had been allowed to be—you woke up as Lady Hwang.
But today, you woke up as the girl who had fallen in love with Hyunjin through his letters, his delicate cursive, his thoughtful gifts, his words, his thoughts, with the unfiltered version of himself he could be with you. Today, you woke up happy.
Few people would care about this, so you had never told anybody before, but one of your favorite things about beehives was the smell of them. This unique scent that you couldn’t get anywhere else, that, truthfully, couldn’t be compared. A beehive smelled like honey left out in the sun, like melted wax with wood undertones. As you moved the bees and reached deeper within the hive, though, you could also get traces of musk and balm and something overly sweet, like rotting fruit.
And you loved it.
You worked with your bees every day, making sure that they were healthy, making sure that their surroundings were clean and filled with pollen-bearing flowers and plants. You had filled the nearby soil with flowers of all kinds—goldenrod, lavender, primrose, a couple of raspberry bushes and some wild rose bushes as well, along with the usual sage and rosemary. With this, you were certain that your wildflower honey would be full of flavor and as sweet as it could be. You should look into planting a few orange trees for the years to come—their blossoms would round up the honey’s taste.
You loved the smell of a hive and the feeling of the bees buzzing all around you as you worked to harvest the honey and clean the nest. You felt at peace here, like this little corner of the estate was yours and yours only. Like you belonged here, in this place, in that very moment.
The sky was blue and the air was warm already, hinting at yet another hot summer day. Life at the Hwang Estate was not bad at all. You may be yearning for a kiss from your husband, or hoping he drank enough whiskey at night and called you darling, but you had everything else. Ha-ri and her daughters and Changbin, who seemed to shine in his new position on the council.
You had your bees, and you also had Hyunjin’s paintings. “I’ve never done this before,” he would say after showing you his most recent creations. He used to blend colors on canvases at first but he was a bit more adventurous now, drawing more complex shapes and adding light and shade, too. For his very first ‘portrait’, Hyunjin had chosen Cloud as his model.
I’ve never done this before, he said once again when he handed you the painting. It was smaller than the others and he had it framed. A proper gift. You hugged him and he hugged you back that time, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Sometimes at night, when your hand trailed between your legs, you still thought about that moment, and all the other moments. You also thought about all the moments that had never occurred. You often thought about his cock and how it had felt in your hand. Often, also, you dreamt about Hyunjin making love to you.
You almost dropped the large jar that contained today’s honey, startling a few bees and causing them to fly away. You sighed, making sure that none of them had been hurt in the process, and gathered the jar from the ground. Some honey had spilled onto the grass, leaving a puddle. You didn’t like wasting honey, but you decided that perhaps some time later a little creature could use it, especially in this heat.
You heard footsteps to your left and, expecting Ha-ri, spun on your heels to greet her. But it wasn’t Ha-ri, and it also wasn’t Seonghwa or Hyunjin, who, sometimes, liked to sit under the shade of a tree and sketch while you worked with the bees.
“I thought I’d find you here, my lady.”
Lee Minho—the estate’s new doctor. He had been acclimating to his new home easily and he was well-liked among the staff. He was soft-spoken and intelligent, and Hyunjin particularly enjoyed sharing a drink with him and Changbin after work. He was a good addition to this home, you thought. He was friendly and yet, he seemed vigilant, always keeping his guard up. In that way, he reminded you of a cat. For good reason, perhaps, as he seemed particularly fond of Cloud—and Cloud of him.
“Doctor,” you said with a smile, still surprised to see him here this morning. Minho spent several days of the week treating patients in the two clinics in town. “What a splendid day, isn’t it?” You had found over time that making small talk helped ease your nervousness around people, making you seem confident.
“Indeed,” Minho responded with that enigmatic smile of his. He was an attractive man with a lot of kindness under the mysterious veil that he kept around him. He pushed his elegant dark hair from over the round glasses on his nose. “Wow, my lady—that is a good harvest you have there!”
You accepted the compliment with a bashful smile—yet another thing your mother had taught you. “Thank you, Dr. Minho. Would you like to have a taste?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say no to that offer.” Minho made his way to you, a little wary of the bees but eagerly grabbing one of the spoons you had brought with you to test your product. He dipped it in the jar, not wasting a second before he ate his spoonful. “Oh, good god, wow…” Minho, however, took his time to savor it, so you gave him the required space.
Instead, you busied yourself with closing the beehive back, ready to let the hive be for the day. You had gathered a lot of honey and, for the first time with this colony, harvested a small amount of honeycomb. And you knew exactly what you wanted to do with it.
“Thank you my lady,” Minho spoke respectfully, dipping his head. “I was told of your delicious honey, but it’s one thing to taste it on a cake and another to have it just like that.”
You shook your head distractedly, now finished with the hive. The honey was in a jar, and the honeycombs in a large pot. You put everything back on the tray, along with the used spoons and your gloves, but left everything on the table.
You knew that Minho’s unprompted visit to your beehive had a purpose. Yes, he was a nice, pleasant man, but above all else, he was a doctor. Your doctor more specifically.
“Your lord husband will surely have a good hunt today, with that spectacular weather,” Minho went on. “I heard he and Changbin left before sunrise.”
You took a deep breath, readying yourself to face Minho’s inquisitive eyes. When you turned to him, you found him shielding his eyes from the sun, licking the remaining honey off his lips. You liked him. Minho. You knew very little about him—you knew that he had a good reputation. You knew that he liked to go fishing and that he always shared some fish with Cloud when he returned. You also knew that he used to work for the Jeons and that he left of his own volition.
“I know why you’re here, Mr. Lee.” You spoke with your voice low but enunciated every word very clearly, so that he, and only he, could hear you. All around the estate, life went on—windows were open, people walked around, busy at work. “I wish our maids had been more… discreet.”
Minho let his arm fall to the side of his body after adjusting his glasses, offering you an apologetic smile. “Don’t hold it against them, my lady—they only worried for your well-being and came to me immediately.”
A surge of rage enveloped you—but the rage wasn’t alone, there was sadness woven into it, despair, and shame, too. “I fail to see what is so worrying about blood stains on bed sheets, doctor. Women bleed once a month, after all—a doctor ought to know this.”
Minho let the sentence hit him and he took it gracefully. If he were angry, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he leaned against the table, never looking away from you.
This morning you had woken up in Hyunjin’s bed—something that occurred more and more often. Not because your husband had decided he wanted to consummate your marriage, no, but because he seemed to enjoy your company more. He liked to paint a lot, but especially in your presence. Sometimes, he’d say, “join me, will you?” and you would. You didn’t really know how to paint but you’d grab a brush and add a few strokes here and there. The more Hyunjin painted, the better at it he became.
The more Hyunjin painted, the more you loved him.
So you liked to be there as much as you could, to take in the sight of him standing in front of a canvas, brows stitched together as he tried to execute his ideas as well as he could. These days, the rooms would remain warm even after sunset, and Hyunjin often painted in just a thin white shirt and light trousers. He was handsome, and peace looked good on him. You knew that this could only be temporary—you knew that Hwang Hyunjin, the one they called the Orphan, the one they said was cruel, would not allow something as ordinary as painting to make him happy.
Still.
You often fell asleep in his bed because you liked being close to him and the sheets smelled like him. Sometimes, you would wake up so close to him that it was almost as if he loved you back.
This morning, though, the bed had been empty—you knew it would be so because Hyunjin had warned you about today’s hunting trip, and how important it was to him. The dinner at the Jeons was in a few days from now and Hyunjin intended on bringing some game as a part of the gift he would offer to your hosts. You’d of course part with a jar of your precious honey and with some seeds for a garden.
You hadn’t however foreseen your body reminding you that Hyunjin refused to put a baby in you and had woken up in a small puddle of your own blood. In fact, your bleeds had been late, which you had blamed on the stress of moving into a new home, so you weren’t especially surprised. You had taken the sheets off the mattress and had gone to wash them yourself, but the maids had come in and offered their help.
Minho took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. “I heard there was a lot of blood, my lady.”
Ashamed, you turned away, pretending to adjust the contents of the tray. The honey shone under the bright sun, amber, beautiful. “I assure you I am completely healthy, sir,” you managed, clearing your throat. “This is not an abnormal occurrence for me.”
When you looked at Minho again, he was nodding slowly. “You’re tense,” he pointed out. “My lady, let me reassure you—you have nothing to fear from me. I’ve been forbidden by your husband to perform certain… physical examinations on you, unless he gives his consent before, and unless he is present at the time of the examinations.”
This, you also knew—when Dr. Lee had been welcomed to the estate, Hyunjin had assured you that he was a better man than Yun had been, and that he would make sure nobody ever touched you. That nobody found out about your secret, too.
“I am aware,” you retorted, doing your best to remain calm.
Minho barely let you finish your sentence. “I know about the teas you drink, I’ve seen what you put in them. I know they’re not to settle your headaches or upset stomach. I know what boiled thistle does, I know what ginger root and rue oil do. I know why fertile women take those. So, as your doctor, let me ask you—how much blood was there, and are you in pain?”
Once, your mother had caught you stealing cake from the kitchen. You had been fourteen years old at the time and it had been your birthday cake, which you had been forbidden from eating. You had felt so ashamed. Because it had been your mother finding you eating cake, and because she had made sure that everybody in the villa heard her as she scolded you, calling you weak and stupid, calling you worse things even.
Today, under the unyielding sun, standing in front of Minho, you felt just about the same.
You gulped, feeling the familiar and unwanted prick of tears at the corner of your eyes. “I just—I just want—”
“I know what you want and I’m not judging you for it, my lady.” Minho took a step closer to you, but it was to study you. He silently asked for permission to touch you, which you granted with a stiff nod, and he pressed his hands at specific areas of your neck and under your arms. “In fact, your secret is safe with me. The reason you can trust me is because I will also give you a secret of mine in exchange—it was actually the reason I came to visit you in the first place.”
You looked into Minho’s eyes and saw nothing but honesty, except perhaps a few drops of concern.
You knew about some herbs and their uses—you had heard some of it from Sookie and the rest of the information had been absorbed in your many years of eavesdropping all around your family home. Your older sisters, your mother, your cousins. The maids, especially those who really liked boys. So it only felt natural to try and make some of that tea that supposedly stopped a woman’s fertility.
“Well it didn’t work,” you said ultimately with a sigh, deciding that Minho was trustworthy. “I lied earlier. There was more blood than usual.”
Minho nodded, pulling away from you. “Your blood vessels seem alright. However, for the time being, I suggest you stop consuming the teas, my lady. They are not as efficient as you believe. Nothing can fully prevent pregnancy.”
You swallowed your tears and your pride back, averting your eyes, feeling more and more like a little girl being scolded by her mother, despite Minho’s gentle voice. “It doesn’t hurt though, doctor. It did this morning, but not anymore.”
“Then you will be alright,” Minho assured. “But… should you have been pregnant, this could have been a miscarriage—a bad one at that. Please keep that in mind, my lady.”
“No more teas,” you offered as a promise, your voice weak and small.
“I don’t like that you will be away and that I won’t be able to check up on you tomorrow,” Minho admitted. “I don’t know who Lord Jeon hired to replace me, but whoever it is, do not hesitate to seek help if you feel sudden cramps, or if you bleed too much, my lady. Understood?”
“Understood.” You played nervously with the fabric of your sleeves. “Thank you, doctor. And, huh—please—”
Minho chuckled, waving his hand. “I will certainly not tell Lord Hwang about this. I meant it—a secret for a secret.” With this, Minho produced an envelope from his pocket. “I am kindly asking you if you could give this letter—secretly—to somebody at the Jeons’.”
You took the envelope in your hand, seeing no problem in executing that task. “Of course, doctor.” There was a name on the envelope. “Su-jin?”
“I couldn’t give him proper goodbyes,” Minho explained, his voice suddenly strangled, shoulders tensed. “Although it isn’t enough, I hope this… I hope this can be something like that. A goodbye.”
You nodded slowly, carefully hiding the envelope under the pot on the tray. “Was he a close friend, sir?”
Something in Minho’s eyes revealed plenty about this small envelope and its precious contents. “He and I were very close. Too close,” Minho explained. “Some people… took advantage of that. It ended badly. I chose to leave so that Su-jin could be free and happy.”
Minho had said he and I were very close but you heard the truth laced in between his words. You felt love in his voice. Love, and pain, too. Not that the former could ever exist without the latter, though.
“I see.” You pressed your hand on your chest. “I promise I will deliver this letter discreetly and quietly. I won’t even tell Hyunjin about this.”
“I appreciate it.” Minho smiled at you and, without asking, took the tray from you. “Let me at least bring this inside for you.” He obviously wanted to change the subject so you allowed it. “I must admit, my lady, that I took the liberty to ask the chef if he could prepare red meat and some green vegetables for you. To prevent anemia. But I just said you were craving them.”
“Oh.” You covered your mouth, giggling. “Thank you, sir.” You followed Minho as he took the tray and walked around the manor, circling it to make it back to the front door. The air smelled like flowers and like freshly cut grass. “Did they say… anything else? The maids, I mean. Those who saw the blood on the sheets.”
Minho was walking slowly, much slower than you had seen him before—definitely because he didn’t want to exhaust you. You felt fine, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “Yes, but not to me. I heard them speculate over how soon you would be with child.”
A dagger to the heart would have been quicker and painless compared to this. You did not like the taste of shame on your tongue. “I see. Thank you for your honesty.”
“My lady, if you truly do not want to become pregnant—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, doctor. Thank you. The teas were a mistake—perhaps I drank too much of it, too often. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll handle the rest.” It would be very easy to handle as you would never become pregnant.
You had hoped—foolishly—that if you managed to stop your monthly bleeds, Hyunjin would find you desirable the way he found pregnant women desirable. At this point, you were desperate enough that you thought a simple kiss would be enough to set you on fire. You had thought it was hard when he was cold and distant with you but it had turned out to be the opposite—spending so much time with him only made you yearn for him more. Some days, you found yourself inhaling your own hair—the scent of Hyunjin’s bed lingered on it.
“I apologize for this, my lady. I understand.” But you had made it to the front door, so Minho naturally switched the topic of conversation to the beehive and how he couldn’t believe how much honey you had gotten that morning.
He left you by the kitchen, thanking you again for the envelope you had taken from him—you took this so seriously that you immediately went upstairs to your room to hide it under your pillow. Feeling the paper on your fingertips made you nostalgic.
For years—your whole life up until just a few months ago—you only had that to keep you going. Letters. One every year, no more. You still had them, keeping them in a small wooden box. Hyunjin would write about everything, about nothing. For all these years, you had wondered this: how could he feel so close to your heart, yet so far away? And for all these years, you had believed this would be resolved by you finally becoming his wife and moving under his roof. Naturally, you had been wrong. You had been wrong about so many things.
The morning of the dinner at Lord Jeon’s, Seonghwa came to wake you instead of Ahnjong. You found it strange but appreciated the steward’s gentle voice. That morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang, but you felt empty.
“Where’s Ahnjong?” you asked, wishing with all of your soul that you could stay in bed all day. You were tired. “Is she alright?”
“She’s with Ha-ri, my lady,” Seonghwa explained. “They’re packing a few evening gowns for you. Lord Hwang is already up—would you like to have a bath before leaving?”
“Ah, the gowns. Of course.” You smiled fondly into your pillow. “Yes, Seonghwa. I’ll have a bath.”
“Would you like to use the tub in Lord Hwang’s room? I know you prefer it. Lord Hyunjin is downstairs with Mr. Changbin, finishing up some things for work. The room is all yours.”
You accepted Seonghwa’s offer as it was a quite widely known fact that Hyunjin’s bathroom was far better than yours. He bowed swiftly and left the room to prepare your bath and you were happy to find your bed sheets had absolutely no blood on them. The ache in your lower abdomen had completely disappeared too. This was, by far, the worst menstruation you had ever experienced. As if the burden of being a woman in itself wasn’t enough…
You wrapped yourself in your favorite robe and exited your room. From the hallway, you could hear voices downstairs—mostly Hyunjin and Changbin though, apparently giving directions for the factory while they would be away since Changbin would make the trip with you and Hyunjin.
Seonghwa had left a maid to take care of your bath. You recognized one of the young girls who had seen your blood on the sheets the other day but did your best to remain kind and friendly to her. Someday, when you’d have more time, you would teach her about the hardships of a woman, and how she might want to consider facing certain situations in the future. She was young and you didn’t hold it against her. If anything, you envied her. You missed the times when you were ignorant. You hadn’t been allowed to be that for very long, though.
Still, you asked her to leave you alone for the bath. You’d be able to wash your hair on your own and you preferred to soak in the warm water for a long time. The room smelled like Hyunjin, like his cologne, and was still steamy from his own bath. You tried not to think about that too much, about his lean body submerged in water, about his dark hair floating around his porcelain face, about his hand between his legs…
You splashed water on your face and scrubbed yourself clean, still sleepy. You would need strong tea to keep you awake, but you figured you might be able to nap quickly on the way to the Jeons’.
You had rinsed out your hair and were applying oils into it to make it shine when you heard footsteps outside the bathroom. “Seonghwa? Anhjong?”
The footsteps froze. “It’s me.” Hyunjin. “I came to shave and get dressed—I’ll—I’ll come back later,” he added, stammering. Hyunjin seemed to dislike the idea of you naked, almost as if his cock could escape his pants and accidentally fall into your cunt, impregnating you on the spot.
“Don’t, I’m done here, I’ll be out in a second.” This was his room after all.
“We’re leaving in about an hour,” Hyunjin said from the other side of the door. “Are you… feeling alright?”
You left the bathtub as the water was turning lukewarm rather quickly, beginning to dry your skin with the linen sheets provided by the maids. They smelled like the same rose water they soaked your clothes into after washing them. “I’m alright, Hyunjin.” You were suspecting that despite Minho’s absolute silence over it, Hyunjin had heard bits and pieces about the blood on the sheets. If you did trust the doctor, you didn’t always trust the maids to stay quiet. “Just need a minute here.”
“Take your time…” Hyunjin said, but he didn’t quite finish his sentence, letting it trail off instead.
You did your best to wring your hair dry but that was usually something you let the maids do, as your mother had always taught you. Be delicate with your hair, she’d always say. She had been terrified that you’d damage it, especially when you spent time outside in the winter. But you had always liked winter and its eerie silence.
Once you were as dry as you could get in the span of a few minutes, you quickly put on the loose, cream-colored gown that had been left for you. You hadn’t expected company so there wasn’t much here to cover you, however there were a couple of Hyunjin’s shirts hung on the wall, and you picked the blue one.
Your husband was facing the window when you exited the bathroom, his hands behind his back as he stared outside. The view from here wasn’t as nice as the one in your room, but one could see part of the garden here, and the lush pine forest around the estate.
Hyunjin didn’t turn when he heard you. “How was your bath?” he asked. Without letting you answer his question, he went on, “Don’t worry. I’ll have the tub and plumbing of your bedroom upgraded as soon as we’re back from our trip.”
Words could sometimes appear kind in appearance and yet they felt like blades. This was one of those times. “I did not think it bothered you that I used your tub, Hyunjin. I wish you'd told me.”
He did turn to you then, concern written all over his handsome face. “No! No—I just—I should—” He sighed, exhaling a long, tired breath. “I simply meant that I should have provided you with better installations already.”
You gulped, swallowing your pride at the same time. “I like your lavatory,” you admitted, taking a few steps toward him. He stood tall next to the window, his gaze following you, his gaze working very hard not to dip anywhere below your neck. You weren’t wearing anything besides that linen and his shirt, and he must have noticed. “I like your bedroom, too. It doesn’t mean I don’t like mine.” You hesitated, almost reaching for his face to feel the light stubble around his mouth. “I like your company as well, Hyunjin.”
He flinched, turning away, not even pretending to busy himself with something else, simply walking away from you. “I like your company too,” he managed from the other side of the room. Then, tentatively, he repeated, “We’re leaving in about an hour.”
“It takes me twenty minutes to get dressed,” you said. You wanted to smile but the muscles in your face were frozen. All your life you had known that you would become Lady Hwang, but you had been wrong about what it would cost you. You had never imagined that he would turn you into such a desperate, touch-starved fool. “Let me help you get ready, will you?”
Hyunjin glanced at the still unpacked clothes, neatly folded on his dresser. Normally, you left today for the Jeons’ and would return early tomorrow morning after spending the night in a hotel, since Lord Jungkook lived near the city and Hyunjin adamantly refused to sleep in his mansion. Still, to be safe, you would pack enough essentials for a couple of days should the weather leave you stranded away from home.
“I’d like that very much, thank you,” Hyunjin admitted, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I’ll just be… over here.” He motioned toward the bathroom you had just left.
It really only took you a couple of minutes to put everything in Hyunjin’s travel bag—pants and underpants and shirts, but you felt like something was missing. Making sure he wasn’t paying too much attention to you, you decided to take a look in his drawer, as you wanted to see if that was where he kept his hair comb—you hadn’t seen it in the bathroom earlier. You did see the comb but you also noticed something else.
Sheets of paper, envelopes. Some blank, some had words on them. Some had Hyunjin’s handwriting scribbled all over them.
Some had yours.
You gasped, recognizing the letters you had sent him over the years. All of them, seemingly. The older ones were damaged and your handwriting was messy, childish. And yet you saw yourself writing them, sitting at a desk too big for you, putting so much effort in every single word so that Hyunjin thought your handwriting was neat. You would write drafts upon drafts of the same letter, practicing diligently until everything was perfect.
For some reason, you hadn’t imagined that Hyunjin kept those. It didn’t feel quite real despite holding them in your hands and feeling the smooth paper under your touch. You skimmed through a few of them, only catching bits and pieces of each.
My sister came to pester me today, Hyunjin. I was just working at my apiary and she must have been bored. She made fun of me… I do not hate her. I do not resent her. I know she is impressionable, friable, and I know her mind has been poisoned by my mother. Today, she called my apiary stupid, and other worse things. I asked her to leave and she did not. I tried not to listen to her but I wanted to cry. Do you think crying is an act of weakness? I cried once during a big, big dinner. There were so many strangers, Hyunjin, and I was only a little girl. They all looked at me and they would all ask questions to my parents about me… about you, too. You really are famous, do you know that? Anyway… What happened with my sister is that a bee stung her and she accused me of doing it on purpose. She seemed to believe I controlled the bees. As if… Did you know, Hyunjin, that bees die after they sting? I would not want a bee to waste its life on my sister.
-
Hyunjin! I loved the gift you sent me on my birthday. I have never played with marbles before as I was not allowed to. Sometimes, I would sneak out of my dancing lesson and go watch my brother and his friends play, but I could never figure out the rules of the game. Perhaps there are many games and I simply confused them all. But since you sent me marbles, Mother says it’s alright, but I am still not allowed to sit or kneel on the ground as the boys can. I see them come home sometimes, covered in mud and dirt with big smiles. It makes me wish sometimes that I had been born a boy, too. Do you like to play in the mud too, Hyunjin? Do you think that when we grow up and get married, you will teach me how to play the marbles game? Other games?
-
This the second to last letter I will write you, assuming I will no longer need to write you letters once we are husband and wife. In a little over a year, I will travel the long journey to you… I hope you are not too discouraged about it. The reason I am mentioning this is very simple, Hyunjin. We are friends, are we not? So I want you to truly think about it. Should you cancel the marriage, I will not resent you. I know I am not the wife you ought to have been promised, and I know I have my father to blame for this, as he once convinced your father that I would be the best thing to happen to you. You do not need to say anything. You are my friend, Hyunjin, and I only want you to be happy. I lay in bed at night wondering if that is something I will do for you. Make you happy. There are days I wonder what it even means, happiness. I don’t recall the last time I was truly happy, but the closest I get to it is with my bees. What about you, Hyunjin? Are you happy? I hope you are. And I hope that if you choose to marry me, I can at least not make you unhappy. Please, promise me that we will still be friends, married or not.
-
I kept reading the last letter you sent me, do you remember it? In it, you told me so much about fabrics and textiles. From this day I haven’t looked at my dresses the same. I never realized all the work that was put into fabrics. I have been trying to find some knowledge to give back to you, something that you will carry with you the way I carry with me what you told me.
Here is what the beekeeper told me, though. He said that when honey is pure, it will burn. He said that only very pure honey actually burns, and polluted honey melts into nothing, like sugar in tea. He also said this would be a lesson for me later, but I’m not sure what he meant exactly. I tried though. I tried burning honey. It smelled sweet and warm. I poured it on my skin and it burned me but I liked it. Does that mean something, Hyunjin? Do you think that people can be pure, too, or do we all have darkness inside us, making us melt into nothing?
There was a lump in your throat when you decided to stop rummaging through the letters. Reading them all in the wrong order might not have been the best idea either. You realized that you had not kept the drafts of your letters—after the envelope was sealed, you would bring the letters to be burned into the furnace immediately. You knew you ought to do that or else you would drive yourself crazy, reading them over and over, finding reasons for Hyunjin to despise you.
You put the letters back, your vision suddenly blurred by tears. Promise me that we will still be friends, married or not. You wiped your face, finding something else in the drawer. You recognized the delicate ribbon that had adorned your wedding dress. You barely remembered that night and yet you remembered a little too painfully. There had been blood on the sheets that night too, but it had been Hyunjin’s. He had undone this ribbon from your dress so gently that you had almost fallen on your knees. In your life, you hadn’t known a lot of happiness, but you had known Hyunjin’s touch—a little of it, at least—and it would have to be enough.
“Damn it!” You heard Hyunjin’s groan echoing from the lavatory, so you quickly pushed the drawer closed and made sure your face was dry when you went to check on him.
“Is everything alright, Hyunjin?”
He looked at you from the reflection in the mirror. There was a small, red dot on his chin where he had cut himself. “Just a cut,” he said pointlessly. “Don’t worry.”
You knew that, technically, Hyunjin wasn’t used to shaving his own face. It was the sort of thing that Seonghwa would do for him, and yet, today out of all days, Hyunjin had chosen not to call anybody. You were not like your sister—you hadn’t allowed your position or your mother to make you dense, and you read the situation quite quickly. Hyunjin wanted to be with you, and with you alone. He was nervous about tonight, about facing Lord Jeon.
“Let me.” You didn’t wait for an answer and made your way to him, taking the straight razor from his hand. The blade was heavy, sharp, beautiful. The handle was gold-plated and had elegant carvings on it.
Hyunjin stared at you, still through the mirror, puzzled. “But—”
“I’ve learned how to shave a man’s face,” you told him, “and other things, too. Will you please fetch a chair?”
Hyunjin’s lips moved silently as he repeated your words under his breath, looking as if he hadn’t understood you. Still, after a few seconds, he walked away and returned with one of the chairs in his bedroom.
“Sit down, please,” you invited him, cleaning the blade in the shaving mug and preparing the brush and the soap. You retrieved a clean, hot towel and applied it on Hyunjin’s face once he had taken a seat. “You didn’t argue,” you pointed out. “Do you really trust me with this?”
You couldn’t see Hyunjin’s mouth under the towel, but you saw his smile lighting up his eyes. “Are you going to cut my throat?”
“I’ll try not to,” you retorted in the same playful tone. “Don’t move.”
You removed the towel and got to work, but your heart was beating painfully fast in your chest. The last time you had been this close to Hyunjin’s face, he had kissed you. And then he had fucked your hand. He smelled good. He smelled like his cologne and like the shaving soap you were lathering onto his face with the bristle of his brush. His lips were shut tight, but they sometimes quivered when you pressed your fingers on his neck to angle his head to suit your needs.
It became easier after a few seconds when Hyunjin closed his eyes. You watched him then, really taking in the sight of him, the black hair, the cheekbones, the lips. The man that he was and the things he made you feel. The warmth in your chest was the same as the warmth between your legs. You just needed to focus on the shaving part of the moment and not on what you wanted to happen—all that you wanted to do was to straddle Hyunjin and feel him between your thighs. All that you wanted was for him to press his pretty lips against your mouth and kiss you until he bruised you.
But instead, you pressed the blade against his cheek, stretching his smooth skin skillfully. “Ready?” you asked him, making your voice soft.
Hyunjin gave you the smallest of nods, barely moving, humming in approval. “We leave in an hour,” he muttered.
You took a deep breath and, finally, swiped the blade on Hyunjin’s skin. He inhaled as you went, tensing up, but exhaled when you pulled away without having cut his face open. His breath smelled like the lemon and mint water he liked to have in the mornings. He even giggled, his cheeks turning pink under the bubbles. “You’re good,” he complimented. “Good flick of the wrist, steady, smooth.”
“I probably have more practice than you do,” you pointed out, biting your lip to swallow your laughter.
Hyunjin raised an eyebrow but waited until you had repeated the process farther up, shaving the left side of his face first, to respond. “Did your mother make you learn that?” he asked.
“Yes.” You hesitated, looking at the mirror as if it held any answers. But all you saw was you towering over your husband with a blade in your hand, his face so close to yours and yet so far away. “She taught me that good wives shave their husbands and themselves, too. You know. Everywhere.”
Hyunjin frowned, his eyes opening up. He couldn’t move as you had kept on shaving him, now holding him by his chin, pressing the top of his head against your stomach. He stared at you from below, his gaze lingering on your breasts and not shying away from it. You let him. You pretended you weren’t seeing that and focused solely on the shaving. “Don’t look so shocked, my lord. I bet you’ve seen many more pussies than I have, and I can’t be the only woman in this country shaving mine.”
It was physically impossible for Hyunjin to fall down this chair, yet his reaction almost caused it to happen regardless. As if he jerked awake from a bad dream, he straightened up in the chair, giving you half a second to pull the blade away from his face, avoiding cutting him there. In the process, however, his long arm flew by it and he hit the razor with his hand on accident.
He sat straight in the chair, somehow both pale and his cheeks flushed dark. You circled him, bending down to pick up the razor that had fallen by his side. Doing so let you catch a glimpse of his hand—there was a small cut on his thumb where the blade had met his skin.
“Oh—” Quickly, you slammed the razor on the counter and took his hand in yours. A few drops of blood landed on your gown. The flow was continuous despite the small size of the cut. “I’m sorry, I’m—” You squeezed his hand into yours, trying to stop the bleeding.
Hyunjin took a deep breath. And another. He was staring at you, the veil of darkness you had known in him returned to cloud his gaze.
Some people called your husband frightening and you understood why. But you refused to let fear take control over you. His blood was warm and sticky in your palm, reminding you of his seed coating your skin.
When he spoke, it was in a low voice, enunciating every word very slowly. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing what?” You pressed harder onto the cut, afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop the blood from dripping out. Or maybe it was because you liked the feeling of his skin against yours too much. “It was just… humor. Aren’t we friends? Can’t I use the word pussy in front of my husband?”
In that moment, you realized that despite having exchanged letters for all these years with Hyunjin, you didn’t understand him. You understood all the parts of him, though—his fears, his pride, the sadness in his eyes when he looked at the magnolia tree in his garden. You understood his yearning for painting and drawing and why he enjoyed hunting, too. You understood why he was so gentle with Changbin and Ha-ri’s little girls, and why he often asked Lord Christopher for counsel. Hell—it hurt you to think about it, but you understood why Hyunjin kept his heart away from yours. But today, you were realizing that you couldn’t understand the big picture, but that you weren’t to blame. Hyunjin simply would not let you past a certain point. This—whatever this was—was all you’d ever get.
So you did understand that, at least—that you weren’t supposed to try crossing that line.
His silence was deafening. “Hyunjin?” you muttered, releasing your grip on his hand. It fell on his knee, limp, almost as if he were dead, but he was still bleeding, and he was pressing his thighs together.
Instinctively, you brought your hand to your lips, delicately cleaning the blood away with your tongue. You were not afraid nor disgusted by blood, your own or someone else’s, and Hyunjin’s blood tasted like metal, like salt. If this was the only way you could have him, then you would shave him every day in case he got a cut, and keep drinking his blood for the rest of your life.
Hyunjin took a deep breath, obviously trying to stay calm. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, and you watched as his gaze flicked between your face, your lips, your collarbone. In the heat of the moment, the shirt you were wearing over the gown had fallen down a little. “I’m sorry, darling.”
Darling. Your heart raced faster than your brain at that, but you couldn’t keep your thoughts encaged either. He had said it, he had said the word. To you. And he wasn’t even drunk.
You lowered your gaze to check on the cut—it seemed like it had mostly stopped bleeding by now. “Don’t apologize,” you retorted, finding it easier to stare at an injury on your husband than into his molasses eyes, much like you had on your wedding night. How much blood would he spill because of you?
You got up, deciding that you ought to finish shaving him instead of lingering in this lavatory, ashamed and hurt. You restarted the process—the blade, the shaving soap. Hyunjin let his head fall back, allowing you to reprise the shaving.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he whispered, his jaw dancing under the blade as you were shaving him. You liked the sound of that, of the razor gliding over his skin. You liked feeling him close, too. “I know you’re not doing it on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
To this, Hyunjin said nothing. You thought you were used to it, to his silences. Sometimes you would be watching him paint and ask him a question, but he wouldn’t respond right away. Sometimes, you’d get the answer two days later, out of the blue. That yellow in the sunset was a little strange but it reminded me of the marigolds in the garden, so I kept it.
You pressed the razor on his skin, holding his head in place, and scraped the blade across with precision. You had always enjoyed the shaving practices, perhaps more than the dance lessons or mandatory needlework. Maybe because they were also a test of your composure. After all, you had to resist cutting men’s throats open.
“I won’t do it again, Hyunjin, I promise,” you whispered, close to his ear. “Crude humor, I mean.”
He gripped at his pants as if he were afraid to fall down. “No… It was funny. Really, it was. I just…”
At that exact moment, you noticed his tented pants, bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. You felt a chill on your spine, cold at first, and then warm. The warmth spread to your core and between your legs.
But you shaved him.
“It was unexpected, wasn’t it?” you chose to say to at least have the grace of finishing his sentence instead of letting him make a fool of himself. Your voice was a little unsteady and you cleared your throat, ignoring the way Hyunjin’s gaze caressed you. Because you felt it. You felt his eyes on you and they were like kisses. You felt his warmth, for fuck’s sake you even felt his hardening cock from here…
“Unexpected, yes.” Hyunjin cleared his throat too. “Are you almost done?”
You pretended you didn’t see him adjust his cock through his pants. “Almost. Don’t worry, I know we are leaving soon.”
There were so many things you wanted to ask him, right here, right now. Why are you hard, Hyunjin? Is it because of the joke I made? Are you not used to girls making jokes like that? Because we, girls, jest like that all the time when it’s only us. Do you like that? Do you like it when I talk about pussy? Do you wish you were seeing mine? Do you wish I lifted my skirt to show it to you? Is that why your cock is hard, Hyunjin?
But—of course—you said nothing at all.
When you were done shaving him, you rinsed the razor and quickly came with a wet towel to also wipe Hyunjin’s face. He was still there, unmoving in his chair, tense. You could swear you saw his neck pulse to the rhythm of his heart.
“Thank you,” Hyunjin managed. When you went to pull away from him, he didn’t let you—he cupped your face in his big, warm hand. He was sweating a little. When he touched you, you felt it in your cunt. “We have to talk about something, darling. Will you listen to me?”
Darling. You nodded, unable to speak. Hyunjin pulled you even closer—so close that you felt his warm breath on your face.
“I know about the teas you drink. And don’t resent Dr. Lee for that,” he quickly added when you opened your mouth in protest, “I didn’t hear it from him first. It’s a smaller estate than you think, and the maids like to talk.”
“I—I just—” you stammered, face burning with shame.
Hyunjin clicked his tongue softly, his eyes lingering on your lips. “I know why you were drinking them, but please don’t poison yourself on my account. I’m not worth it.”
“But—”
Hyunjin cut you off. “No buts. I don’t like doing this, but do listen to me now—as your husband, I forbid you to drink those teas, or to take any medicine for… that purpose. You will only harm yourself, and I won’t allow that.”
Hyunjin said that and yet, what you heard was: you can kill your womb, shove any poison you want directly into your cunt, I will never fuck you.
He was still staring at your lips, and you at his. You tried pulling away again, not that you didn’t like the proximity, but because you were feeling a tingle between your legs, and you were afraid to start a fire that couldn’t be put out. Hyunjin let go of you, his arm falling to the side. He was slumping on the chair. He seemed more tired than after a long day of meetings and work.
In the life you had imagined, Hyunjin loved you the way you loved him. If he had found himself needing you, he would have fucked you, quickly, efficiently, deep thrusts. Taking you from behind perhaps, slamming you onto him. You used to think about that sometimes, even before you married him. You still thought about it now that you were his wife, but you were older now, and having him so close yet so far was nothing short of torture. You were tired, disappointed, miserable. Entire nights were spent, covered in sweat, rubbing yourself onto pillows or your hands, cumming and thinking of him while you came.
In the life you had imagined, today Hyunjin would push himself up to kiss you, to devour your mouth, leaving your lips swollen. He’d hitch up your skirt to feel your cunt and groan into your mouth at the discovery of wetness there. He would turn you around, pressing your face against the wall, he would pull out his hard cock from his pants and bury himself into you, stretching you. In the life you had imagined, Hyunjin would fuck you against the wall, rutting like an animal, seeking his release, finding solace into your pussy. He’d call you darling, he’d pull your hair, he’d kiss your shoulder. He would fuck you and you would cling to him as he came. Would you feel it? Would you feel his cum filling you? You liked to imagine that you could, somehow.
But this was not the life that you imagined. Hyunjin did none of that, or almost. He did push himself up, and he did pull you against him. He held you like that, close, close enough that you felt his erection pressing on your lower stomach. He wrapped you in his arms and you listened to his heartbeat.
You held Hyunjin tighter, but he used his hand to lift your face up to him, pressing his thumb under your chin.
“My beekeeper,” he whispered, his breath tickling your skin. “You know I only want you to be happy, right? I’ll never let my shame stain you.”
Your throat was tight as tears welled up in your eyes. You scanned his perfect face, touching it, his soft cheek, his soft hair. You drew invisible lines around his plush lips. “I love you, Hyunjin. I’m a fool for this, but I love you, I really do.”
You didn’t think Hyunjin would have looked any different if you had gutted him alive. Lips trembling, he stayed there, holding you, his eyes in yours.
“We leave in about an hour,” was all he said.
He let go of you and you missed his embrace immediately. Hyunjin left the room, neither quickly nor unhurriedly. He left the room as though nothing had happened, as though you hadn’t stuck a dagger into your own chest and cut it open, baring yourself to him by speaking three little words.
What happened next scared you—you waited a few instants and quickly put back the razor and soap in a drawer. You left Hyunjin’s bedroom to get into yours, cleaning yourself up quickly, summoning Ahnjong so that she could help you dress. You made conversation with her as she was lacing your corset. You chose a pretty gown for the road, a comfortable one. Later, you found Cloud in Minho’s office and saluted the doctor after giving your cat a little kiss on the top of her head.
Ha-ri was downstairs to see his husband off, but she did hug you. You got into the carriage first, followed by Changbin, and then Hyunjin came last. Half of his hair was held by a white ribbon. He wore a linen shirt and black trousers. He looked just like he had the first time you had met him. Handsome, more beautiful than a prince or a princess, even. He did not look at you. He spoke to Changbin a little, but then Changbin dozed off.
It scared you because you felt numb. It scared you because you wished you could cry about it, or perhaps even scream. You wished Hyunjin would hold you in his arms. He didn’t have to fuck you if he didn’t want to, but you liked being in his arms.
Was this it? Was that what it meant to become better at being Lady Hwang? To become numb, desensitized, to have cried all of the tears you had to cry?
The trip to Lord Jungkook’s domain took exactly two hours and forty-three minutes—you knew that because you monitored the time on Changbin’s watch. For two hours and forty-three minutes, Hyunjin did not speak to you. The silence was heavy despite Changbin’s attempt at diffusing the situation. But you looked through the small window, watching the scenery change, watching the towns as you passed them. By the time you passed the gates to Jeon Domain, you thought you had it all figured out.
Some people, you figured, had holes in them, and Hyunjin was like that. It wasn’t even his fault. His light leaked from him, and you were no better than a moth. It also meant that no matter how much love you would pour into him, it would leak, too. In the end, Hyunjin would be empty, and so would you.
But what scared you even more than being numb was how, due to being nervous, you almost tripped as you climbed down the carriage. There was a rather large amount of people to welcome you, all waiting by the large entrance doors. The Jeons’ mansion was huge and very high, and it made you dizzy to look at it and its dark bricks as you exited the carriage.
But Hyunjin caught you just in time as a man who could only be Lord Jungkook approached you. You didn’t even notice him. Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you. You wished you were numb to that, too. You wished that your heart didn’t jump for the shipwreck that your husband was. “I got you,” he said, in your ear, just for you. “Hold on to me. You’re okay, darling.”
Some people, you figured, had holes in them, but you weren’t like that. In fact, it was quite the opposite—there was love piling up endlessly within you, filling every corner of your soul. It had nowhere to go. It just stayed there. Some day, you would crumble under the weight of it. And that, maybe, scared you more than anything else. It was then and only then that you understood what the old beekeeper had tried telling you all those years ago, because you could feel your pure heart as it burned, burned, burned.
... to be continued.
a/n: WOAH.... long time no see for Lord Hwang, right? I'm sorry about the terrible wc and lack of general action in this chapter. I had everything planned but I simply could not write it in less words than this, trust me, I tried. I was so excited to bring you all to Lord Jungkook's home!! So so sorry about this. Thank you for your patience, for waiting for this update, for your support. It means a lot to me, truly.
permanent taglist: @cb97percent @changbinluvr @neosracha @hwan-g @streetlight-s @j-0ne25 @leedunno @aimeexx @hyunskizz @lotus-dly @thestarseeker @suhomylife @abiaswreck @chanlovesme @skzho @binstitsweat @hyunjinswifeee @straydhampir @fwess @skizzel-reblogs @katsukis1wife @chans1aptop @sunlitwilderness @erispancakes @skzfelixlove @hyunsungbased @revehosh @casualtaelyn @yourhwngness @hynjnskz @hyuneyeon
☆°. — 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 : ᴏᴄʜɪsɪᴀ
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, smut
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x fem!reader
𝐰𝐜: 10.1k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: big break up (👀), a bit of swearing, unprotected sex, implications of cumming inside, oral (f receiving), painful angst etc etc!! this is a LONG one and i hope you'll like it!! i eat up every bit of feedback!! the next chapter will be the final one so i wanna thank everyone already who has been reading and reblogging this series 🫶🫶
You and Hyunjin were friends. The label all but feeling foreign to you now, everything but scary; a few weeks ago it would have been frightening. Holding stable contact with the man wasn’t a hard task if you’d call it one in the first place – not long after the first introductory words and small talk was done, when the basics of a persona had been revealed your conversation had flowed naturally, as though friends for decades. It was as easy talking, texting and calling him as it was when you had first exchanged numbers – when Hyunjin had looked up your number in his system, that is. You enjoyed time when it meant spending it with him, even if you didn’t meet up physically. Hearing his voice over the speaker was calming, often fun – Hyunjin bore a kind of humour that you deemed only came out when he found himself in comfort, not intentionally comedic, simply naturally witty; you never missed a day giggling about whatever with him.
Often it was relaxing. You weren’t always talking when on the phone. Sometimes your words would fade into a comfortable silence and the only sound you’d hear from Hyunjin’s end of the speaker was pencil on paper, or brushes against a glass of water to wash off the previous colours. You’d often ask about his art, whether he was an artist to show it around or one that shied away from the attention towards his pieces; if you could ever catch a glimpse at them. He had argued that, considering it his wanted career, he needed to be brave enough to showcase his work and to accept critique for it – so yes, he’d be ready to show you, if you only asked.
Moments like those, the ones you spent in silence, in a comfortable one that only established itself between good friends and over time, it seemed, felt the most sinful, though disguising as the most innocent. When you weren’t meeting each other physically, and when you barely talked – when in fact, it seemed like you shared the least amount of contact it felt utterly shameful. Because it was intimate. Because it was more than any physical connection could ever build, you thought. Because in moments like those you could be vulnerable, existing in each other’s presence, if only in thought. Allowing yourself for them to wander, allowing sole silence to settle between you. It felt worse than any physical cheating could ever feel.
But then again, it was platonic. You argued it was, internally. You have met once or twice in the store, unintentionally – you had both needed groceries, and had stayed a bit to chat. It had evoked nostalgia, when you’d remembered it was the first place of your meeting. You had talked like friends would when crossing paths without planning to, had laughed and paid at the register together before making your ways home. And yet you had a feeling within that didn’t mimic friendship, that felt somewhat foreign yet strangely and wholly familiar. It was comforting, rather than butterflies that swarmed in the lower pit of your stomach it felt like waves of soft waters, ones you’d lay atop on when visiting a beach. Every conversation with Hyunjin – the physical ones more than the ones when you called, or merely texted – felt like water carrying your body weightlessly; utterly calming, silent, longing. You often tried to ignore it to your best abilities whenever it evoked, but it was not deniable eventually that whatever was developing between the two of you was maybe, just maybe, more than what you’d call a sheer friendship. Because you truly shouldn’t feel as excited, as happy and curious about another man you claimed to be simply acquainted with.
Speaking of, you were everything but keeping Hyunjin a secret from Chan. Despite your situation, dilemma – however you wished to call it, certainly not an easy turn of events, surely – you didn’t have the heart to give up on Chan, not that easily. You had promised to try, and he had too – which all but meant a sudden careless relationship. Arguments occurred, still, ones you didn’t seem to grow out of. Over little things, over bigger things both of you deemed important – Hyunjin was a subject of said disputes, more often than not. You felt guilty, surely, for feeling as content with him as you did. Though you had often argued that you wouldn’t tolerate jealousy from Chan in that matter. You said there wasn’t a reason for Chan to grow protective if you were the very person to admit you and Hyunjin being friends; which in no way was forbidden, Seungmin and you were too, after all; you found it childish thinking of every member of the opposite sex as a potential threat to a relationship, which Chan reluctantly agreed on. You were aware that you weren’t fully honest, not truly, that you were sinning in one way or another – you weren’t cheating, were far from it, and you’d never stoop so low – before anything possibly developed, you’d be the first to break it off with Chan. Yet you weren’t lying when you had promised to try again, to not give up the year long relationship you had been building, had honest intentions in that matter – if anything, you were thoroughly conflicted. Staying with Chan to observe, to see if your bond would reconnect, yet befriending Hyunjin to yet grasp if he was a good match, a better than Chan maybe, altogether; it drained you, internally.
And faster than you could look, four weeks had passed since you had been in the library, since you had lent out the book you were supposed to bring in sooner or later. You had enjoyed reading, had remembered Hyunjin all the while – recalling he had read the book as well, wondering his thoughts on an impactful passage or a nice message you’d read. You enjoyed that you had similar taste – momentarily drawing the comparison that you and Chan could never bond over factors like these, your taste in literature and similar arts fundamentally different. It had never been an obstacle in your relationship, though having another person to enjoy the same things as you did was comforting, you couldn’t lie.
One o’clock on a Monday, and you were excited when you stood before the library, approaching the familiar wooden door. It looked heavy, was heavier when you pulled on it; it opened with a thick creaking, one that dared to disturb the entire quiet of such a silent space. The smell of books filled your senses momentarily, and though the place was utterly clean small particles of dust reflected in the rays of the sun and danced a dance you disturbed by walking right through. Hyunjin was sitting on his assigned desk, as promised working from twelve to six from Monday to Thursday – you had missed his face. You had missed seeing him, had missed observing him during work – not that you have done it often enough to truly miss it, yet excitement filled your body when he caught your eyes and smiled back at you. You’ve seen each other occasionally the last weeks so his smile seemed familiar, warm in nature and showing pearly teeth, and you had missed it. You had missed him. Deeply so – it didn’t scare you.
Eager steps carried you to the man, your shoes clacking softly against the wooden floor and echoed through the tall room of the library. Hyunjin fit into this place like a glove, you though – you could see the appeal it drew to him, could see how someone like him – someone quiet, someone sensitive and life-loving – would enjoy a beauteous, nearly sacred place like this. That he enjoyed typing away on his working computer and listening to the keyboard’s melody as he did, undisturbed and silent room around him, or that he liked grabbing a book or a pencil to kill time while work was slow – it fit him, in the best way it could fit.
“Hey.”
His voice like honey, and you have missed that, too. His voice, you have noticed the first time around, bore soothing fruits that melted on your tongue and got you hooked when you as far as tasted it. Anything about him had such effect, you couldn’t lie, but it was his voice that you learned to enjoy so much over the past weeks. You had missed it, deeply so.
You responded, watched as Hyunjin’s eyes softened at your word, took out the book you had not forget to pack and return. A bit of small talk around it, mutual asking about certain passages, about the ending or the characters and warmth coursed its way through your limbs – it certainly was nice to have someone with similar taste, someone who thought and felt close to the way you did. Chan rarely did, not about literature or arts, anyways.
“Oh, I’d love to see your stuff at some point…”, the conversation had shifted to Hyunjin’s very own art – ever since the party you had wondered what kind of paintings he created, ever since the party Hyunjin had told you you’d be welcome to stop by any time. “…do you like, have studio?”. A shy approach to invite yourself without actually doing so, without seeming pushy, interested instead. Yet you hoped Hyunjin would get the hint.
“Oh, no- not really, I mean. I’ve always wanted an atelier, but I can’t afford it right now…”, a glance up to you, reading your face, wondering if inviting you would be too much at this stage. Risking it anyways. “…I do have a home studio, though. You know, if you want… I’m free in an hour here.”
An exchanged smile, relief from both sides after you agreed and said you’d grab a book to read while waiting for his shift to end. Mutual giddiness bubbling in your chests and you all but could concentrate on whatever novel you picked from the various shelves – in thought already at Hyunjin’s place. You hadn’t expected, hadn’t particularly planned to be invited home to him. Your intentions had been pure, you hadn’t lie when you said you were interested in his art – though you couldn’t lie over the face that being within his own four walls rope a sort of anticipation inside you. Ones home was utterly intimate, felt like a new step to your friendship – a step you should probably be wary to take, one you maybe shouldn’t take altogether. Though you weren’t able to mind it, in all honesty.
Minute by minute went by and an hour felt like an infinity. You’d read barely twenty pages, having to go over paragraphs more often than not in your lack of absorption, until Hyunjin stood before you, finally. Bag thrown over one shoulder, single strands of hair fallen out his ponytail framing his face, soft smile dancing across his lips – he was a sight comforting to look at, and if there’d been any guilt left – about waiting an hour for the man your boyfriend was most jealous of, about visiting said man in his very own home, about taking more interest in his life, his art, his passions than in your boyfriends’ – then it was all gone by now. You didn’t mind anymore, didn’t care. Had decided maybe in that particular moment, with Hyunjin standing before you in all glory, so cautious since aware of your unavailability, yet a promising look in his eyes, one telling to simply choose him, leave your gone love behind and find happiness in a new one, that whatever was left with Chan was long over. Was barely worth fighting for, if not for sheer comfort and habit. That you in fact would stop fighting, for you’d been the only one doing so, after all. That though Hyunjin was yet a land foreign to you, yet to be discovered and explored he was a land of most promising and ripe fruits, of most beauteous nature and sight, of most comfort and secureness.
“You ready?”
___ . ꫂ
Hyunjin had played down the state of his home studio severely — it was as good as an actual atelier would be, to your knowledge anyways. The apartment he shared with his roommates — all gone now, stuck in classes or blowing raspberries at work — bore an extra room too small to be a bedroom and too spacey to work as a simple storage room, and Hyunjin had quickly taken the chance to claim ownership over the space. It’s walls and floor were littered in various combinations of cold and warm colours, stains Hyunjin was likely unable to remove for the overall state of the room was a clean one, despite being the one of an artist – you didn’t know any artists personally, yet had always imagined them to be on the chaotic side. Hyunjin’s studio, stains aside, brought nothing of such – brushes and paint kits stood under a rough system, seemed clean and neat in their position. Yet the studio carried the aura of pure artistry nevertheless — canvases piled up on each other or against the walls, unfinished and breath-taking sketches revealing themselves the longer you laid eyes upon the room, new mystery revealing itself with every closer look you took. There was art everywhere you looked, warm and comforting art you didn’t think you’d ever grow tired upon seeing. Art that made you blush, naked bodies piling upon each other, wondering if Hyunjin ever took live references, art that made you think, canvases filled with so much abstractness, so much variation in colour and texture that it needed you a minute to understand what you were looking at altogether.
You wanted to never leave this place again.
“You made all that?”
Stupid question expectant of stupider answer, though Hyunjin merely chuckled, his cheeks darkening, his fingers fiddling suddenly.
“Yeah... I mean, some of it is like super rough and not really good but... you know, inspiration comes and goes.”
The man gave you a look shy, one you wanted embedded behind a lock within your heart for an eternity – it was pureness, it was innocence that laid in his eyes when he looked at you like this. It was salvation, spoken with a pair of orbs, freedom offered with a single gaze.
And it was art that revealed itself to be a person, laying eyes on Hyunjin, art prettier than pencils and colours could ever create. Looking at him as though your entire world, looking at him as though he was the answer to everything you’d been looking for.
“Oh, shut up, nothing in here is ‘not really good’, I love every single piece…”, exchanged shy look, reddened faces the both of you, and you continued quickly, “I mean, I’m no artist but looking at your paintings makes me, like… feel something. I guess that’s a compliment for an artist, no?”
You chuckled, made your way into the depths of his atelier – it wasn’t anything but, as modest as Hyunjin chose to be about it – and let yourself flood with emotions he had converted onto paper and canvas, allowed yourself to discover colours and shapes, to give them a meaning only guessable – you truly weren’t an artist nor in any right of a good critique, though for Hyunjin you felt ready to learn it all. To understand theory and technique and profession, to dive into a world so unknown to you before, so beauteous you found yourself unable to resist.
A chuckle from him, then; “Yeah, you’re right… thank you.”
Hyunjin wasn’t following you through your journey across his works, stood by his most current piece near the window of the room – he had explained before that natural light was the best to paint with, so grateful the room happened to face the west side. He stood and watched you, enchanted by your interest in him, in his most vulnerable thing, nervous if you’d end up liking it altogether – art was insanely subjective, and while Hyunjin never took it personally nor illy if people and critiques reacted negatively, he needed you to be of an opinion positive. He needed you to like whatever you saw, to maybe understand even, inspiration and emotion, thought-process behind pieces and paintings. Though maybe that was too much to ask for, maybe to greedy of a wish to make. So Hyunjin stood watching you by the open window, hoping for simple contentment with his works from your side. Simple liking, nothing more. Because your validation was all he viewed necessary, from person least knowing of the subject yet of most important value.
Eyes meeting his, and you chuckled out, catching Hyunjin by surprise.
“You don’t talk much, huh?”
Catching Hyunjin by surprise anew – you were impossible to figure out. Admittedly, he had been silent from the moment you started making your way through his works. While he could have explained his inspiration behind certain ones he decided to refrain from it, letting you – hopefully – enjoy the silent satisfaction art brought. He was merely watching you – if maybe because in awe, though you were right, surely. He didn’t talk much, ever, truly.
“Yeah. I don’t really have much to say, I guess.”
Surprised look from your side now, and you shrugged your shoulders.
“I don’t know. Your paintings say otherwise.”
And with that you kept looking, and left Hyunjin utterly perplexed. It was a statement so base yet so determined in its character, and Hyunjin nothing but blushed at it.
He kept watching your eyes widen at certain works, when you liked the colours or when you did, after all, reciprocate thoughts and feelings, watched as you walked carefully, cautious not to nudge or bump against still wet canvasses and drying paint. Watched and shied when your gaze met his, when you decided to explore him instead of the art all around – and Hyunjin wondered if you felt the same. Ever wondered if the tension he still felt when around had dissipated for you already, if you had gotten used to the pulling and urging and longing your bodies fell into whenever near each other. No doubt that you had felt the same yet wondering if it was still the case, or if he was the one needing to hold a grip of himself – his body plucked by yours in the smallness of the room was unbearable, nearly, made him lose himself if he wasn’t careful enough. Needed constant reminding to not lose himself in the sight of you fully, converting his eyes for a second or two, collecting composition, regaining control. Control you so loved to take away from him, were so eager to steal right through the holes in his heart.
He damned your boyfriend — if it wasn’t for him, Hyunjin would have long made a move, despite his shy, his careful character, would have long spilled out his hearts’ desires for it took his body every last nerve to resist you, the whole of you. As you made your way through his paintings, through his emotions, through the soul of his Hyunjin’s body urged to be with yours, his heart desired your very own.
“You’d be beautiful to paint.”
Words past Hyunjin’s lips, gushing out too fast as to catch them from being heard. Far louder in the small room that he had intended them to be, for he hadn’t intended them at all. Hyunjin hadn’t even finished the thought before the words had materialized into the room – they simply appeared, as much to your surprise as his, and they bathed the both of you with a shower of fluster, of speechlessness. Exchanging looks, though faces burned hot converting eyes wasn’t in neither of your strengths to do – you simply looked at each other, purified disbelief dripping from within your eyes and onto your faces, standing like two idiots caught red-handed; because that was the first time thoughts had been spoken out aloud. Thoughts too secret, too forbidden to share, thoughts nearly sinful, bashful to even think, really. And they occupied your minds entirely – and Hyunjin was the first to admit to them. Though not wanted yet he did, and you’d been scared of the consequences. Scared to move because that would mean realness, scared to shift gaze because that would mean shyness, similar-mindedness; sin.
“I’m – oh my god, I’m sorry. I just mean --- you’d be a good reference, that’s all. I-”
Words a waterfall, and you shook your head, back in the studio after having felt lost, floating somewhere above the room, brought back the voice of his. And roughly, so.
“No, no… don’t apologize… uh- thank you…? I’m sorry, uh, thank you, really.”
Voice as trembling as you felt, and you shook your head all the while speaking, huffing out in attempted amusement, though it came out as a snort and ended up awkward; which made your heart beat faster and your face paint darker, and you cursed Hyunjin for saying those five words, so short a sentence, so small a promise and yet enough to shake your word. Walls you built so carefully before stepping into his home crumbling in their place, any sort of shield around your heart, regardless of its material, shattering into pieces to let free the feeling you had been trying to suffocate beneath layers of pretend. Allowing your body to be pulled by his, allowing the string that connected your hearts to tighten, to bring you closer, to connect you. To truly connect you, because now his word was spoken, now his promise was made. As small a promise as it was, and there was way to go, but it was irreversible.
And he knew it, too. Felt the threads, felt the needle in his arteries poking deeper, felt the fine fibre pulling him towards you and you towards him, felt your heart sink altogether, felt your crumbling composure. Knew even, maybe, entirely what you’ve been thinking – though not a master to mind reading he swore he knew what was going on in yours, felt your thoughts as though they were his own.
“I… actually… I haven’t really painted you, per se, but…”, though shy, resistant, Hyunjin let his mouth speak, as though a stranger to his own words, with no control over his mouth, his body. But the moment called for honesty, and he was ready to grant it to you. Ready to cross boundaries if he needed to – he hated your damned boyfriend, and if the last thing he did was being the reason for your end then so be it. He’d be ready to die on that hill, he’d be ready to die on any hill, if it was for you. Pathetic, because unsure if you felt the same, though not embarrassed, never ashamed. Hyunjin decided maybe in that very moment that he’d fight, as long as you let him. That, as long as you visited him, the library, his studio, or merely your voice at night over the hushed speaker of his phone, when your boyfriend worked his life away, unapologetic of your own, that he would fight for you. For your love. For your heart.
“I made this. And you… were the inspiration, I guess. More like, the feeling I have… when I’m around you. The feeling we both had, I think… when we first touched at that party… God that sounds so stupid.”
He mumbled; you nearly asked him to repeat himself. Though the very moment you laid eyes upon the canvas every thought ceased to exist within you – you had never seen a painting, a work of art as delicate as the one he showed you, brought up from behind a pile of abstract looking pieces. It were hues upon hues, oranges and blues, light and dark composition, moulded together in a way you wondered how was humanly possible. Where one colour ended the next began, mixing where they met each other, connecting in strokes articulate, almost. As though the painting bore the ability to speak, telling you of its thoughts, of its longings and desires, of its love. Of Hyunjin’s love, ultimately – for he was the one who brought the painting to life. With you in thought, with you behind the lids of his eyes, with you before his very being.
And you knew from maybe that moment that it was him. That it had always been him, the empty space within you, the wishing part of you, the one asking for contentment, for delicateness, for love within your life. That it had been him before you ever grew to know him, that it had been him before you’d been placed on this earth, before you had walked the planet, altogether.
___ . ꫂ
“You have no right to be angry at me, and you know that.”
Not screaming though you weren’t too far from it at that point, trying to collect voice because volume surely wouldn’t help.
You had come home, step light and head high, Hyunjin and the past hour occupying your mind entirely – until you had reached your entrance door, made your way into it, and had met Chan on the sofa, angry, upset.
“You have forgotten our date.”
Words as simple as that, and they had made you furious. Furious because he was unbelievable – missed chances from his point and it was fine, the moment you gave him a taste of his own medicine, bitter and unpleasant he reacted. It was unfair on you, and he was crazy not to be seeing it. His hypocrisy, his idiocy.
And you had been impatient. Had nearly not wanted to fight or argue because you saw no point within, knowing your boyfriend well enough to predict no outcome would leave the both of you satisfied. That compromising throughout your relationship, throughout the time you’ve spent together could only do so much, could only work for as long as it has. That you have reached a breaking point, surely, finally.
“You have no right to be angry with me. I can’t even count on fingers how many you have missed and I won’t let you ride my dick for the one that skipped my mind today!!”
You and Chan stood opposite, so far away from each other, and it didn’t feel like enough. You wanted to get away, needed to, because he was suffocating. Suffocating and impossible, loved so dearly once and now hated all the more. You didn’t want to; hate was a word so strong it nearly scared you, though love was as well. The flame with Chan, if there’s ever been one, had burned out, had used out every last match it could find, every last piece of rotten wood it could burn. Left was a cold bundle of ash, asked to be taken out, to be thrown away, to be abandoned. To be finally left alone, because it was tired, exhausted of the constant tries of starting a fire, of getting it to burn again. Pained from the constant nagging, from the fruitless effort, from the overripe dejection.
“I am angry though!? We’ve promised to start to make an effort, and I’m really fucking trying here, I’ve cleared my fucking schedule for you, I’ve cancelled important meetings and appointments I needed to attend and I did for fucking you!? Fucking hell.”
Words intended to make you feel bad though you failed to. Couldn’t, not with a right mind. Though Chan wasn’t wrong in theory, you couldn’t bear the heart to truly feel bad for him; you long stopped to, should have long stopped pretending to. You looked at him, through eyes cold, senseless. You’ve lost all hope with him, all hope for him. There was nothing left within you to feed the love you’ve so carefully tended, nothing that would make you regret your thoughts, doubt them, demonize them. You looked at him and he was furious, shouting words meaningless to you. Telling you to speak, to explain to him, to make him understand. If this was the moment where it was over, where you’d part ways. Where you’d give up. It was nothing but meaningless to you. Didn’t feel bad for Chan even when you saw tears daring to stain his cheeks, his shirt. When his fingers ran through his hair, noticing how thin they’ve grown. Couldn’t feel bad for him when his body sank to the ground, missing the sofa by inches, making contact with cold hardness beneath him instead, letting head fall into hands, chocked sobs emerging from within him.
You couldn’t feel bad for him. Couldn’t because it had been you on that same spot by the sofa countless of times, the reason him, always. You who would choke sobs past your throat, embarrassed of how they sounded through the echo of the apartment, an apartment so lonely you had wondered if it was shared, in the first place. Apartment so lonely you had doubted you had a partner altogether, maybe only a fraction of your imagination, a fabrication of your deepest wishes. To be loved, and to love – you had been missing that even though committed, and you had decided now, watching, listening to your lost love cry, that it was the last time you would miss it. That this point, the breaking one, should have enrolled far longer – though now you’d make the best of it, with what you had.
“It’s over.”
Words so disturbingly loud you jumped at your own voice, jumped at Chan’s reaction to them – his head shot up momentarily, glistening eyes boring into yours, brows furrowed and lips quivering impossibly. He was furious, confused. Started begging, screaming. Seated in his space, not moving an inch from the spot by the sofa. Stayed screaming at you, begging right after, apologizing frantically, crying fat tears that rolled heavy down his cheeks. You couldn’t feel bad for him.
He stayed crying at the spot by the sofa when you started moving, finally, letting your body get used to the sensation, feeling heavy, feeling as though you stood a statue of stone by the kitchen counter, not as much as blinking. You moved towards your shoes, grabbing a jacket as you went, slipping into the right, then the left. Motions automatic, robotic. You couldn’t care about him. Grabbing keys, listening to his pleading, to his cries of your name, to his apologies. Words you’ve heard so very often you feared to grow null towards them, emotionless, careless. Words worth gold though Chan reduced them to mere dirt, nothing more than. Words you now heard behind you, hand on the handle, opening the door to welcome the cool from outside, before it engulfed you whole, before it consumed you fully and never bound to let you go, not for tonight.
___ . ꫂ
He was in love with you. When you had left his apartment, Hyunjin feeling a useless fool, corners of his mouth from eye to eye, the pounding in his heart had never seemed to stop. He had prepared himself dinner, had put on a show he didn’t pay the least attention to, he washed the dishes with a carelessness he never laid upon chores – and then his phone’d chimed up, ringing in a tone familiar, and his heart had nearly made its way out of its confines, snugly laid within the ribcage beneath his skin when he saw your name, a text from you. Maybe she felt me thinking about her, he thought, naively, and cringed at his very own theorization.
00: 18 >> hey, are you free? right now?
Questioning look on Hyunjin’s visage, and he’d responded he was, yet asking whether there was a problem – it was a bit after midnight, and though Hyunjin would welcome you with open arms regardless how late, regardless the reason, he worried. He knew you shared a place with your boyfriend – scoffing at the thought right as he had thought it, body flooding with dislike the very moment – and there was seemingly no reason for your search for Hyunjin, not after having spent half the day in company.
And then hope filled his being, occupied his lungs with so much weight it felt heavy to breathe, made his soul bloom in flowers most delicate, most spacious he was at risk to lose sight of all else – you had texted him in the middle of the night, though it was your supposed boyfriend you ought to be with at such hour. Him who you had come home to, in all likeliness – him, or the traces of him, the loneliness he left the thing you fled from. To Hyunjin, instead. To the guy you surely walked on eggshells around, the very guy your boyfriend must be hating insatiably. And yet you had texted him a little after midnight, and had rang his doorbell.
“I’m so sorry, I know how late it is, I just- I’m so sorry, oh my god.“
You stumbled into his apartment after Hyunjin had opened the door for you, apologies gushing past your lips like mantras. Reassuring you, offering you a seat by his sofa – the apartment was yet empty, roommates having texted they would stay over at their friends’ or partners’, and Hyunjin had been giddy about having the place for himself for a night, not remembering the last time he had had the chance to – yet he was giddier now that you joined his lonesome, though worry overshadowed any excitement Hyunjin could have bared.
You weren’t crying, though the puffiness of your eyes, the red around them, your bruised up lips revealed that you had been before reaching Hyunjin’s place. He knew the reason was the boyfriend, though he didn’t allow his jealousy, his messed-up mind to start a conversation – you would explain if you needed to, wouldn’t if you didn’t have the strength to. Hyunjin would wait it out either way, would grant a listening ear or a simple companion – he’d be whatever you needed him to be.
“God, I should have called Seungmin… I would have called him, I just- I felt like I needed to see you.”
Your voice frantic, though less now than before. Hyunjin sat beside you on the soft cushions, keeping a fair distance though it wasn’t possibly enough – your distraught heart pulling him forward, and he shifted to create more space – he would touch you if he didn’t, would lay a comforting hand on your shoulder, would embrace you in a hug. Figuring it was the last thing you needed he regained control against the waves of pressure your body shot his way, waited simply for your words to take on form, to start making sense.
“No… it’s okay, don’t worry about it… are you okay? Are you hurt, did something happen?”
Soothing words and far more soothing voice, and it nearly shot another heat of tears right past your eyes and onto the wetness of your cheeks. You felt bad, guilty for disturbing Hyunjin’s night, guiltier to come crying by his doorstep. Though there wasn’t an ounce of reluctance within him, it seemed, welcoming you as though it was a normality, as though it was a given for him to take you in. And maybe that made it all the worse, his kind-heartedness, his demeanour, his readiness for you. His drastic difference to you boyfriend – your ex –, his wholly different character, kinder, calmer, softer.
“No, I’m fine, I’m fine. I just… I ended it. With Chan. I couldn’t take it anymore, Hyunjin.”
Silent tears down your eyes, glistening against your skin like flooded rain in pavement cracks, tears as you materialized what had happened prior, as you made real a tragedy so relieving. Hyunjin shouldn’t be happy, oh did he feel bad for wanting to flip over the world in feeling of newly gained strength and energy, of satisfaction so grand he never thought possible. Felt so very bad for not feeling bad for you, not in ways one would think – it hurt his heart that you were pained, understood that despite his despise it was a relationship your own heart had been invested in, so all the more painful now that it was over. And yet he was relieved. For your very own sake, because he was aware of the hardships a one-sided love must have brought, undoubtedly. Screws in his brain rutting, and Hyunjin realized he must offer a place of comfort, despite his flawed thoughts, despite his evil mind. He only hoped you couldn’t read the relief in his eyes as you locked in his gaze with your teary one.
“Fuck, I’m… I’m so sorry. God, you must feel horrible, wait… let me give you a water, are you thirsty? If you have no place to stay you can sleep here, by the way, all the others are gone… you can have my bed and some clothes, just… feel at home… wait, let me give you that water—”
And you started sobbing. Tears gushing out as fast as Hyunjin’s words were, words of utter comfort, of compassion, of kindness. You damned him for it. Damned him for your fragile heart, for the way he was so easy to shake it. Damned him for making his way into your life so unknowingly, so quietly you hadn’t noticed the point where it’s been too late. Damned him for loving him as much as you did, for seeing him when thinking of deepest desires, of love in its very being. Looking at him, eyes milked up yet looking at him. He stared back, perplexed, halfway to the kitchen though stopped in his tracks at the sound of your cries, at the sight of your eyes, your face – he stood looking at your pain, unsure gaze meeting untempt one, seconds feeling like days, entirely too long while anticipating an answer or an explanation altogether, for sudden outburst, for sudden tears at act so kind.
“Stop… just stop being so nice to me.”
Standing up from your seat, legs feeling weak as they moved around the room. Heavy steps towards Hyunjin, careful not to get too close, not to meet his tide, a tide so strong you’d be pulled into wholly if movements grew too risked.
“Please stop being so nice to me, I- I’ll fall in love with you even more.”
Words cutting into every layer of tension that had laid itself upon the room, breaking every damn either of you had built tediously, shooting right through every wall, through every measure of safety you had kept around your hearts. You had taken the knife and stabbed times a million where it was most sensitive, had cut out oxygen from where it was more necessary. And you were close. Too close to him to feel at ease, too close to Hyunjin for his blood to pump in speed it would be healthy – mind and body racing, part of his brain encoding the meaning of your very confession, of your impossible words. Words so powerful it knocked him off his feet, words he never believed to be lucky enough to hear. You were wholly insane, and he was utterly in love.
Stepping closer to you, space between you buzzing, hissing, lighting up as though bodies were electrified, as though highest volts were coursing your veins, your skin. Stepped closer to watch your face paint in agony, so close he was tempted to wipe off the tears grazing your eyes. His hand raised, inches away from your cheek. You shifted, tilted your head to escape his touch. He stayed in position, arm raised, eyes boring into you.
“I can’t.”
Your voice so quiet he had to lip read, his hand ever in position, ready to soothe if you only gave the word. More and thicker tears rolled down the curve of your face, the perky bone, down the plush and onto the dip by your collarbone. He watched it, wished to kiss it away.
“I can’t get into a relationship right away. I know there’s… something… here…”, you let your hands sway through the space between your bodies, your hand breaking through resistance so strong you didn’t believe there was nothing than mere air between your bodies. Had to be something more, something deeper, “but me and Chan, it was so exhausting.”
A choked sob and you regained control, eyes losing his for only a moment before holding gaze anew – his own didn’t wander, every of his senses glued onto you as though you’d break apart if he only as though looked a different direction. He stood listening to you, aching heart and far more aching soul – he was willing to gift you anything, to morph into the very person you needed most this very moment, to become whatever you now desired. Understanding you and waiting to take him as he was, because he was willing to get hurt if it was for you. Tears wettening your shirt, apology staining the room – and Hyunjin’s hands engulfed your face, one big hand on either of your side, palms dampened in tears. The feeling that shot through your bodies was one neither of you could ignore, eyes softening, limbs stiffening, minds short circuiting – it needed Hyunjin a moment to find his words, though sure of them the sensation of touch, your skin against his had knocked out remaining rationality.
“I need you however you’ll let me have you.”
Blinking, his words like sweetest venom in your ear. His eyes expectant, his palms providing warmth, soothing touch to disrupted skin, to torn up heart. You tended to it, tended to him.
“Will you let me hurt you, then?”
And then your lips met. Hyunjin’s answer his mouth on your own, his hands in your hair. Your own finally brave enough to reciprocate touch – you had never sensed him before, not really. Had never sought out to find his touch directly, never actively, so. It was a sensation like no other, a million light bulbs, uncountable fireworks popping in colour underneath your skin, just where yours met his. Fingertips on his neck, by the back of his hair, by the perk of his shoulder. A million fireworks in blue and red and purple and green, sounding through your ears as though going off in this very room, in this very apartment, place so lonely, filled with two lost souls that had found each other finally, though maybe in the wrong moment. Two souls connected the way two snap hooks were, sealed within each other.
Hyunjin lead you through it. His mouth opened to a kiss of teeth and clatter, and you allowed him to, sunk into the feeling of him, his lips on yours, his hands on the vastness of your body. He wasn’t greedy with his moves, needy though as he stopped before his tongue protruded into mouth of yours, asking for permission silently until you granted allowance – only then he continued forward, wet muscles enchanting in a dance addicting, warmth spreading through the entireties of your bodies. You stood in place and kissed each other, a kiss so long awaited it might have been a dream, altogether. A kiss so surreal Hyunjin had to pull away or a moment quick, looking at you, looking at the whole of you – your blown out eyes, pleading, scared. Your lips red, your hands on his chest, his own by the curve of your waist. He had dreamed of this very moment throughout countless nights, when it was only him and his thoughts, and you within them. Had dreamed to kiss you under different circumstances, yet kiss you altogether; and it was sweeter, softer, better than any dream could fabricate.
Staggered breath from both of you as you took the other in, locking blown out eyes and holding trembling bodies, tending running minds, with as much as a look, a touch. And then lips found lips again. As though instinctively, as though it was the very thing, the only thing you’d been born to do. To wrap mouth around mouth, to allow tongues within, to graze upon teeth, to bite down on lips. Softly, experimentally, and then again, when wanted reaction followed.
Hyunjin started backing against the soft of the sofa as your hands made their way through his hair, messing up the softened locks to your liking. He let you, gratefully, toy at him as you wished. Let you explore his body as he explored yours, bunching up clothes in fists, so impatient, so eager. Because this has been all you’d ever wanted, the both of you, everything and more of what you’d desired, since the very moment you’d seen each other in the small of the convenience store, entirely unfamiliar then yet strangely connected. The embrace of the other, lips dancing in sync as though meant to be, hands dancing across body as though born to serve that very purpose.
Hyunjin crouched down, motioning your body softly, swiftly, so you sat on the edge of the couch, his body hovering above yours, darkening your view against the dim light of the living room. His lips never tore apart from your own – the sounds of wet against wet filled the small of the room, joined by softest sighs and gasps for air; you were left speechless, thoughtless with every additional touch, with every further exploring, the both of you. Hyunjin crouched down further, face to face with you and he went lower, yet, pulling your head with him, leaving you to be the one above him after he settled on his knees between your own. Hands on either of your thighs, caressing the plush, groping at the flesh when your fingers pulled against his darkened roots – you quickly discovered him to like it when you did.
Hyunjin broke the kiss, reluctant to let you go, meeting equally reluctant eyes, your lips chasing his for a moment until he connected them to the curve of your neck, minimally dampened in sweat – you must have walked to his place, only now he figured, feeling even deeper discontentment with your ex; until he remembered he was the one kissing you this very moment, his mouth the one attached to the softness of your neck, to the bit behind your ear, to the hollow part of your collarbone. He was the one whose hands steadied themselves on your waist, squeezing to his liking, kissing down to meet your chest. He was the reason you squirmed in his hold, in between his hands, on his couch, in his home – it was him, and Hyunjin would be a fool to grow salty, to let you go. To miss the opportunity, the way your ex did – Hyunjin wouldn’t possibly be so dumb, would give his heart to treat you the way you had deserved to be treated, the years passed. Would show you what love could be like, if it was him you were with.
You grew desperate. Loved the way Hyunjin’s mouth lapped at your body, loved his hands exploring it – but you needed more. Needed the very thing his whole demeanour pointed towards – his body caged between your legs, his hands on your thighs, moving closer to your sex, his face inching nearer towards it. Though he was taking his time. Sweet time to dote on you, to tend you, to love you. Hands only going as far as pulling your shirt high enough to litter your lower stomach in kisses most sweet, and you couldn’t take any more.
“Hyunjin... please.”
Your words as though brought him back to reality, if he had forgotten his surroundings before, merely focusing on you and your body, on the way you sounded, smelled and felt to the touch he now was grounded again, finding himself on his knees before you, finding your eyes looking at him with so much plead, so much desire he might just implode. He understood, your words of impatience, and he mumbled a quick apology, wasting no time now to jumble up the hem of your shirt, to busy his hands with the button of your jeans, hook his fingers into the waistband of your attires. Sliding off pants and underwear in one go after an approving look, and Hyunjin feared that truly, his heart would simply shoot up in a million tiny pieces and out of his body. The sight of you, hovering on the edge of the sofa, body leaned against the back of it, arms working as a prop behind you — lower half exposed, sinfully so; you were glistening in soft wetness, excitement lacing your features, the entirety of you body. It was better than Hyunjin could have ever dare to dream of. This very image having haunted his nightly fantasies ever so often, guilt in the pit of his stomach as his hand had lowered to ease himself every single time — and now he lived it, would no longer have to rely on his mind to fabricate most eager sceneries, wouldn’t need to rely on solely his hand to grand him sweetest release. You lay before him and in flesh, and his eyes glazed over with a sheen of adoration, with a hint of disbelief, maybe.
“So pretty. So, so pretty.”
Words leaving mouth quietly as his lips connected to the plush of your thighs, your body jumping at both the compliment and the sudden contact of warm lips to warmer skin. It felt foreign yet all too much familiar, too known a feeling to be strange, and your lids fluttered close, neck giving in, head lulling to the side. Hyunjin didn’t keep his eyes off you for a moment – watching you intently through deep lashed as he bit and sucked on the flesh of inner thighs, learning most sensitive zones, most erogenous spots. Mouth moving closer to your heat and your legs opened wider at his antics, feeling his lips on the bone connecting leg and pelvis, and your hips rolled forward – minimally yet enough to drive Hyunjin insane, seeing, sensing your need a matter unbelievable to him – you wanted him as much as he wanted you, and he everything but stayed calm at the mere thought alone. A feeling of increased ego, or simple relief – the both of you had walked on eggshells around the other, ever since the day at the store. Had felt feelings reciprocated yet had never been entirely sure, because too cowardly to ever ask – knowing surely now, the desire was of mutual nature – Hyunjin felt utterly helpless.
Mouth attaching to your slit, wetness covering him whole momentarily, hum leaving his throat and sending vibrations right through you, making your back arch into him this much more, your neck throwing back now, eyes shut and hand entangled in coloured hair. Pulling on it slightly to get soft sounds to leave his lips, to feel them against the sensitivity of your clit, to hear his satisfaction in satisfying you. His tongue lapping up your every bit, humming at the taste of you, at your smell. At the sight of you basking in his ministrations on you, focused and determined, wanting nothing more than to please you, the way he’s been dreaming of, imagining too many times to count. It was working, seemingly – shy whimpers leaving your mouth, self-conscious of being too loud, yet unable to deny the feeling Hyunjin provided you, gifted you with. Tongue dancing in kitten licks and sucks against your clit, or prodding at your entrance, and you’ve lost yourself further and further into him, both waiting for release, anticipating it yet dreading it, because the moment would be over, then. Wanted to bask in the impossible feeling of satisfaction that would never be enough only to not let the moment end, altogether – yet Hyunjin didn’t stop, kept driving you to said release, with licks against your slit, with kisses against your sensitivity, detaching only to litter wettened kisses against the vastness of your thighs. Your following whines of protest in loss of touch made Hyunjin chuckle and he went back to bask you in sweetest pleasure, fingers toying at your entrance, sliding into you when your hips bucked to allow him in, when impatient hands grabbed for his wrist, pleads rolling past your tongue in sheer holiest mantras.
Hyunjin was driven, wrist sore from curling up against the spot he had found after moments of searching, knowing he had when your back had arched so violently it had nearly scared him, jaw clacking in overuse though he was the last to care about any of it. Driven to drive you to where you needed him to, until you’d see white, until his very name would be the last thing on your mind, the feeling of him on you the very last feeling you’d die to feel. He watched you as your hands pulled him closer to your middle, as your hips rolled against his face, until you started clenching around the girth of his fingers, relentless pleasure in the way they never missed the softest spot so deep within you, until you started seeing stars. Only mumbling nonsense, utterly lost in the feeling of him, thighs contracting beside his head, your mind free from the frustrations of previous moments – wholly focused on your release that came in waves heavy, stormy, washing over you as Hyunjin sat careful to ride it out, not stopping movements until you told him to, until you squirmed in his hold in overstimulation. Your breath staggered, your chest heaving, your legs tired. Your eyes finding his in a moment of realisation, hearts skipping a beat as you fell back to reality – Hyunjin’s pupils were impossibly blown out, outlined erection visible even through the fabric of his worn-out sweatpants, breath as staggered as yours was. You ought to scream at the top of your lungs at the lust, the desire he watched you with – knowing he wanted you as much as you did, knowing he had felt the same about you the previous weeks where worry’d been all that’s been on your mind, worry about lost love, worry about the risks of finding a new one – he had been there and he had been feeling the very same you had, and you urged to kiss him at mere thought alone.
Pulled him up by his chin so your lips could meet in a kiss passionate, wet and laced with your release, drowned in your contentment, teeth clashing and hands groping wherever they could reach. Sneaking beneath shirts to pull them off seconds later, leaving you wholly naked, Hyunjin in only his sweats. And the kiss was never enough. The moment you wanted to pull away for air, or to ask Hyunjin for more, for his pants and underwear to be gone you simultaneously felt reluctant to, seemingly unable to break the kiss, to detach your lips from his. Having waited to have him like this for far too long it now seemed impossible to let him go for even a moment, if it meant burning with emptiness and desire a little while longer.
Though your bodies could only take so much. Hips longing for friction, yours as much as his, the confines of his pants only paining him, his impatience. And you didn’t let him hurt for too long. Started reaching down his body, tracing lines of abs and soft muscles to hook your fingers into the waistband of his undergarments, pleading for him to take them off, eyes anticipating, hands wanting. He complied gratefully, pulled off sweats and boxers in one go, adding them to the pile of carelessly tossed cloths before his eyes were back on your own – only looking, exchanged gaze as you waited for someone to do the crucial move, the one that would bound you as one for the remaining of time. Both of you too cowardly, hot breath hitting faces, sweat forming to dance on flushed skin.
“I can’t- I can only give you this much. I can’t give you want you want, not right now. I want you to know that, this is- this is the only thing I can give you.”
Voice on the verge of breaking, quiet in your throat, eyes filling with agony. You didn’t want to hurt him, wished to be able to love him the way he wanted you to, the way he deserved it. Wished that Chan wouldn’t have settled into your very being as persistent as he did, making him the only reason for your heart to be reluctant, scared to open up as wide anew.
Hyunjin’s thumb caressed the high of your cheek, head leaning closer, giving a peck to bruised up lips to lean his forehead against yours a moment later. Intimacy dizzying the both of you, closeness and proximity making it heart to reach for air.
“Then it’s enough for the time being. I’ll wait for you, I promise.”
A sigh out of your lungs and a nod, and Hyunjin started lining up with your entrance, precum and your wetness enough for his sinking into you to be utterly painless, for the stretch to be one of unbelievable pleasure. Fireworks setting off in your bodies anew, and only now the relentless pulling seemed to have faded, had turned into a feeling of passion, of pleasure in measures unknown to you times previous. You whimpered out momentarily, reciprocating Hyunjin’s deep groan against your ear, his stuttering hips as he bottomed out within you, so deep your body felt as helpless as they came. All five senses entirely focused on him, on the way he filled you – though for the very first time, you yet felt nostalgia rushing through you, as though this very moment had happened in a past life, as though your bodies, your souls had loved each other the very same way long before you had known it yourselves.
Setting a slow rhythm, embracing each other, holding your bodies close. Chests flushed, heartbeats in sync, hips meeting somewhere in the middle, where your cores connected. Sweat a sheet across your fleshes, breaths hitching in your throats, confessions spilling past kiss-bitten lips – it was connection you had craved for years on end, connection so deep it dared to scratch your heart. And in this very moment, one you’ve anticipated behind closed doors, in most private fantasies, you weren’t man and woman having sex, you were two people, two souls loving the other. Because it were your souls that loved, not your bodies. When you kissed, when you touched, when you let lips and hands dance across bodies where it was most desired your bodies expressed the love your very souls felt, because your souls themselves couldn’t possibly reveal such feelings. So, you took your bodies as a vessel, as a messenger for your love, your desire, your longing. Materialized what souls were feeling – and you grunted against the other, bodies growing more frantic, more feverous, reaching closer the point you so badly wanted to reach, together, in unison.
It didn’t take you much longer – one thrust, a second and a third until you whined out, letting Hyunjin know how close you were, through gritted tears and teary eyes, until he nodded and agreed, telling you, begging you to let go, for you were with him. And you did at the sound of his voice, waves of pleasure gushing over you before they took over Hyunjin, whines filling the stuffiness of the room, confessions following right after. Collapsing on top of you and staying within the hold of your arms – another dream he’s had, so all the more unbelievable, impossible now that he was living it. Shifting on the sofa so you lay comfortably, never letting go of bodies, holding close to warmth. Careless about your stickiness, your sweat covering the whole of you – careless because this moment, you were everything that mattered, Hyunjin was.
“I don’t wanna sleep yet. Because then this moment will pass.”
Chuckling in his hold, and you felt no different. Basking in the feeling of him, laying on his sofa, heartbreak and suffering so far away now you wondered if the last hour had even occurred, or if it was a fabricated memory for your mind to play with you, to hurt you. It was all gone in Hyunjin’s arms, with his body so close to yours. The pulling, the string that had seemed to be connecting your hearts, your bodies wherever you went, from the moment in the store had tightened the two of you together for eternity, finally, eventually. At it was a feeling good, of utter contentment. One of relief, because the matter had been sitting on your shoulders for far too long, for your own good, for your own health. Your hearts had finally found each other, rightfully so, like they were intended to before your bodies walked this earth – and you fell asleep to Hyunjin’s soft snoring, you in his heart and him in your own, ought to be bound with nothing to tear you apart.
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if honey is pure, it will burn (chapter 2 pt. 2) | the taste of honey series (18 + only)
pairing: young aristocrat!hyunjin x afab reader | wc: 28.5k | genre: 19th century au, arranged marriage, romance, smut | general warnings: period-appropriate themes, mutual pining, mentions of emotional distress, mentions of period-relevant toxic parenting, heavy fantasizing, voyeurism (accidental), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. reader is a virgin and it's a big deal. explicit sexual content. MINORS DNI. this work portrays elements/themes that may be triggering, reader discretion advised. explicit warnings under the cut | masterlist. (not written with the intention of being historically accurate)
Some people, you figured, had holes in them, and Hyunjin was like that. It wasn’t even his fault. His light leaked from him, and you were no better than a moth.
explicit warnings (read at your own risk, contains spoilers) : suggestive themes, mentions of sex, heavy and graphic fantasizing. voyeurism (hyunjin @ mc), mc being a virgin is a big deal & turns hyunjin on. masturbation (m, f), pillow humping (f), cum eating, mentions of period-accurate birth control. bloodplay if you squint but in a non-sexual situation (hyunjin gets a small injury), sexual tension.
Every morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang.
And every day, you were becoming a little better at it—at being the Lady of Hwang Estate.
“The blue or the green, my lady?”
You turned to Anhjong, who was showing you the options for your wardrobe of the day. The blue dress was pretty, but the green one had beautiful lace on it, as well as silky green ribbons around the waist.
“Green, Anhjong. With the cream-colored shoes, too.” You took the last sip of your strong tea and put the empty cup back on your table where Cloud, as adorable as ever, was busy eating her breakfast.
“Good choice, my lady.” The maid put the blue dress back where she took it and began preparing it while you were getting rid of your night clothes. “Are you excited to meet the new Head Steward?”
“To be honest, I am mostly excited about having a Head Steward again at all,” you replied, scratching Cloud’s little fluffy head in passing. You carefully folded your nightgown and accepted a white chemise from Anhjong, which you put on followed by your undergarments.
Hyunjin had left with Changbin on their business trip—right before he left, he had finally announced to Changbin that he would no longer be his steward but become his first counselor instead. Naturally, Changbin had tried to refuse him, but Hyunjin was stubborn, and Ha-ri had made her husband take the job, which also came with a beautiful cottage house on the estate.
You were happy for them—you liked the Seo family, all of them. Ha-ri was a friend, and you liked to believe that Changbin was, too. Their children were sweet and kind, just like their parents. You were delighted for them even, but you really needed someone to help you run this manor. It was your first week as Lady Hwang and you were here, by yourself, and had to make all the decisions by yourself, too.
It was a lot. But at least you had Ha-ri.
“Mr. Park has a good reputation,” Anhjong said as she was lacing your corset. “He worked under Lord Christopher for many years.”
“I trust the Bangs to only send us their very best, Anhjong.” And you meant it—Hyunjin himself had asked Lord Christopher for this Mr. Park, who he liked a lot apparently, and his friend had granted him that favor. “He should be here already. Let’s hurry!”
You put on the rest of your gown while your maid was lacing your hair. She was great at it, and knew intricate types of braids. She had promised she would teach you so that you can braid your daughters’ hair someday, my lady.
The mirror in front of you showed an elegant young woman in a beautiful green dress, made especially for her by her friend. You weren’t sure you recognized that woman. The girl you used to be had died somewhere between her wedding night and this morning. The girl you used to believe in many things—in her future, in the beauty of simple things, in the taste of honey. She used to believe in love.
She had been a fool, and the woman you were today had perhaps killed her in her sleep when she was least expecting it. You tried to remember what it had been like to be that girl. Waiting, expecting. Thinking all year long of the letter you would compose for your future husband, but even more busy imagining the things he would say in his letter to you. All this time spent in your bed, clutching those sheets of paper, inhaling them to see if some of his scent lingered on them. You pitied her. That poor girl.
“There you go, my lady.” Anhjong, as usual, placed your pretty braid on your shoulder. She had decorated it with a green ribbon. “Would you like a scarf? It seems a little windy today.”
“The cream one, yes.” Cloud meowed behind you—you usually took her with you on your first walk around the estate, but this morning she would have to stay in your bedroom since you were meeting Mr. Park for the first time.
You went to the small kitten and picked her up to give her kisses and pets. “Ha-ri promised she would send Haerin to come to see you, Cloud. Be a good girl.” Haerin was Ha-ri’s eldest daughter, and she was completely enamored with Cloud. You often spent afternoons with Ha-ri, Haerin and Cloud, sitting in the shade, Cloud in her little basket. The little girl liked to pet the kitten and she would even make sure she had her own cup of milk while the adults were having their tea.
Anhjong had been requested to help another maid with unpacking Mr. Park’s trunks and bags so you let her go. He would occupy a nice, spacious room in the other wing of the manor and you wanted him to feel at home here.
You adjusted your hair, the ribbon in it, too, and your smile. The smile that had been taught to you and that you had learned to wear even when you didn’t mean it. There wasn’t much to do about that. The smile was what you wore on the outside—your insides were adorned with longing and melancholy.
The manor was as busy as always—the hallway was empty, but you heard lively conversations from the floor below. You smelled breakfast, too. Something savory but something sweet as well. You walked slowly, working on taking deep, steady breaths to calm whatever storm was brewing inside of you, the one that filled your nights with nightmares and lustful dreams alike. The very same storm that made you stop in front of Hyunjin’s bedroom and push its heavy door open.
You let yourself into the empty room, breathing in, letting your husband’s scent fill your lungs. It smelled just like him here—like paper, like his cologne, like whiskey. You walked around in circles, feeling the curtains, the books on the shelves, the fabric of a jacket he had left behind. You took the jacket off the back of the chair where it was to smell that, too. Hyunjin’s scent was stronger on it, as if he had worn it on a warm day. You closed your eyes to lose yourself in it, that smell, that memory.
Every morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang, in an empty bed, with an even emptier heart. You woke up tired from your restless dreams. Dreams in which Hyunjin fucked you so hard that you often stirred yourself up in the middle of the night at the sound of your own moans, wet and throbbing between your legs. Some other nights, you dreamt that you waited and waited for him and that he never returned. But the worst were the nightmares—when all you’d dream about was him locking you in a dark room while he fucked Anhjong, or Ha-ri, or your mother.
One time, you woke up and he was in your bed, on top of you, but his body was cold and stiff. Somewhere in the distance, a baby was crying relentlessly. Hyunjin’s eyes were frozen in place, his plush mouth pale and parted open, his body motionless and heavy. Dead. No matter how hard you tried to wake him up, he never moved. You couldn’t move either, he was too heavy. Somewhere, in the manor, a baby would not stop crying, and you knew that you had to go check on it but you couldn’t move.
When you woke up again, for real this time, your cries were so loud that they alerted Anhjong. You were so deeply inconsolable that she had gone outside and made her way to Ha-ri’s house, just by the pine forest, to ask for help.
Ha-ri had given you wine, then whiskey, and a shoulder to cry on.
Since that night, you made sure to drink a little wine or whiskey or cognac before going to bed. It seemed to stop the really bad dreams from happening. Or maybe you forgot them as you woke up—didn’t matter, as long as you stopped screaming yourself awake every night.
You put the jacket back, noticing it had lost some of Hyunjin’s scent already. How long had he been gone?
How much longer would he be gone?
You took one last look at the room before leaving it. You had instructed that nobody but you should enter this room during your husband’s absence—no maid, no maintenance, nothing. Truth be told, you just wanted the room to retain some of his scent for as long as possible. You made your way downstairs, trying not to think about how it had felt when Hyunjin’s pretty cock was throbbing in your hand. Trying to forget the taste of his whiskey mouth.
Chef Sungjae was just outside the kitchen, deep in conversation with a man you didn’t know. You made sure the smile was still on your lips when you approached them—Sungjae dipped his head but the other man bowed courteously. He was tall, with dark hair and soft traits. His clothes were crisp and nice.
“Lady Hwang,” the man said. “What an honor to meet you finally.”
“Please stand. You must be Mr. Park. Welcome to Hwang Estate—and thank you for accepting my husband’s offer. He’ll be glad to find you here when he returns.”
“I simply couldn’t pass that opportunity, my lady.” The new Head Steward flashed a bright smile at you, just as bright as his eyes. His gaze was intelligent but kind. “Even Lord Bang said I would be a fool not to come here.”
Sungjae laughed, so you laughed too. You couldn’t let anyone know the true thoughts underneath your forced joy. Mr. Park smiled shyly. “Breakfast will be served soon, my lady,” the chef announced. “Would you like to have tea, coffee, something with your meal?”
“I’ll have coffee, the usual.” You liked coffee with a pinch of cinnamon in it, and milk. “What about you, Mr. Park?”
“Please, my lady, do call me Seonghwa.” His smile warmed up a little, putting you at ease. “I’ve heard plenty about you and your extensive kindness through Lord Christopher and his lady wife. I would like it if you felt comfortable with me.” He then turned to Sungjae. “I’ll have tea with milk, thank you, sir.”
“Well then, shall we have breakfast outside, Mr. Seonghwa?” You gave a nod towards Sungjae, indicating to him that the maids should prepare the table that was under the large elm tree. “Seems like today is lovely.”
“It is indeed, my lady.” The young man dipped his head and followed you outside, complimenting the estate at length.
“I only just got here, Mr. Seonghwa,” you reminded him. “While I appreciate your kindness towards my husband’s home and land, I have absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“Of course.” A slight flush appeared on the man’s cheeks but he kept his smile and pulled a chair for you when you reached the table under the elm. “Forgive me. I haven’t congratulated you on your marriage, my lady. Please accept my most sincere wishes for this union.”
You motioned towards the chair closest to you and Seonghwa sat down while maids were setting up the table with a linen tablecloth and some cutlery. You made conversation with them, commenting on their wise choice on the tablecloth—it was a beautiful piece with elegant embroidery on it and lace at every corner.
You wondered if you truly meant it, this compliment, or if this was simply the ghost of your mother’s teaching that still haunted you. She had always said that you should make sure the staff respected you and liked you, but that they should also fear you. You weren’t sure how to do that, though.
Breakfast was ham with eggs, roasted carrots and potatoes. You also discovered what the sweet-scenting item that you had smelled earlier was—Sungjae had also added a small raspberry tart with some Chantilly cream. You had picked the raspberries yourself yesterday, spending all afternoon foraging for the wild fruits. They were perfectly ripe and you did not want to waste any—your forearms still showed the cuts from it, and your knees were bruised. But at least it kept you busy.
“This is delicious,” Seonghwa commented after a while. “And it is quite nice to eat outdoors like this. Thank you, my lady.”
“Our Sungjae truly makes some of the best food I have ever eaten.” You knew for sure that you were completely honest about this. “Did you not like the food at the Bangs’?”
“Oh no, I loved it.” Seonghwa ate the last bite of his raspberry tart with a delighted expression on his face. “But this is better.”
You gave him a laugh and a nod. After all, he was right—Sungjae truly made delicious food. Even if you hadn’t been here for very long, you understood that Hyunjin had given him free rein to manage the kitchen any way he saw fit and a near-unlimited budget to buy ingredients and food. And, well, it showed.
“Since it is your first day here,” you told Seonghwa, “Sungjae will come to you soon and ask you what you’d like to have on your first dinner at the Hwang Estate. It is a tradition of the place, I heard.”
“Oh!” Seonghwa’s face lit up and he fidgeted excitedly in his seat. “I should start thinking about it right away then!” He sighed pensively, staring at the gorgeous scenery right in front of you. “What did you have on your first night here, my lady?”
You didn’t let the question melt your smile away. “Oh, my first night here was… unusual, Mr. Seonghwa. It was the very first night I met Lord Hwang.” You decided to make eye contact with the steward, but you couldn't quite read his expression. “I had no say in the menu that night. You could say that I am an exception—besides, nobody would be interested in my ideal meal.”
“Well, I’d like to know!” Seonghwa had a playful smile now, and it was contagious. For the first time today, you smiled and you meant it. You could only indulge him.
“A chef from France visited our city one time, when I was still a child,” you recalled. “My father contracted him for one meal—he made us crepes, with roasted asparagus, melted cheese and hollandaise sauce… I ate so much I thought I would be sick!”
Seonghwa let out an appreciative gasp. “You have refined tastes, my lady. And here I was, thinking of asking for mutton…”
You gave his forearm a few gentle pats. “Go ahead, ask for whatever you’d like. Sungjae’s mutton is exceptionally good, I’m sure you’ll love it. Make sure to give him exact instructions on how you want it prepared and seasoned, Mr. Seonghwa. Our chef likes a challenge.”
Seonghwa nodded and leaned comfortably into his chair, looking around, his gaze lingering on the garden down the hill. “Thank you, my lady. Your reputation precedes you but there were no lies in it—you truly are a kind, generous woman.”
You stared at the garden too, at the magnolia tree. Its flowers would bloom any day now, and you knew that the flowers would be short-lived—you simply hoped that Hyunjin would be back in time to see them.
“Mr. Seonghwa,” you started, your voice suddenly lower, quieter. “What sort of reputation precedes my husband, then?”
The Head Steward turned to you—you caught sight of him at the corner of your eyes, but you kept watching the magnolia branches sway in the breeze. “My lady, I—”
“People seem to judge him harshly,” you went on. “People seem to say he is cold.”
Seonghwa smoothed the fabric of his vest, then his pants, visibly uncomfortable. You gave him time—you were in no hurry. You watched the trees and the flowers in the garden, you listened to all the bird songs around you, always drawn to that one song you simply did not recognize. Was Hyunjin like that, too? Like a foreign bird, one that simply could not be understood?
“I heard no such thing under Lord Christopher’s roof, my lady.” Seonghwa pushed his empty plate just to keep his hands busy. “He has a lot of respect for him. He is quite fond of Lord Hwang, too. So is Lady Bang.”
You nodded slowly. “Yes, indeed.”
“Naturally, I heard the… stories. The tales. Of his old doctor, and—and—and you, my lady. That Lord Hwang had dismissed this doctor from his service.”
“He did, and—”
“But I heard it was because of the doctor’s inappropriate behavior,” Seonghwa said hurriedly, cutting you off. You took no offense, but this time, you did stare at him. He was handsome, but you were making him uncomfortable with this conversation. “Lord Hwang would never let anybody harm you, my lady. I respect that.”
“Thank you, Mr. Seonghwa.” You made yourself smile again, hoping it was at least a little convincing. “I hear our new doctor will be here soon, actually.”
“I’ll make sure everything is in order—”
This time, you cut him off. “No. You only just got here, and I want you to feel at home. I’ll take care of the doctor’s quarters. You meet everyone you haven’t met before, you make yourself familiar with everything. Alright?”
Seonghwa dipped his head low, pressing a hand on his chest. “My lady, thank you.” He was still smiling when he looked up again. “I am available should you need my help with anything.”
The maids were coming back with trays to gather the empty plates and used cutlery. You got up, followed by Seonghwa, and dismissed him politely. “Thank you, Mr. Seonghwa. It was lovely sharing breakfast with you—I’m looking forward to working with you. Don’t hesitate if you have questions or if you just need to chat with someone. When Mr. Seo will return, he surely will have a lot to say to you, but in the meantime… you know.”
“Absolutely. I appreciate it, my lady.” Seonghwa proceeded to help you put together all the plates and put them on the tray for the maids while they folded the tablecloth.
You heard a voice behind you and looked around until you noticed a farmhand waving his arms wide at you, gesturing vaguely in your direction. When he noticed you had seen him, he stopped, and called for you. ‘LADY HWANG! SOMEONE IS HERE FOR YOU!’, and he kept on going but you weren’t sure you could hear everything as he was on the opposite side of the estate. Something about being unsure if he should let them in or not.
“Better if I investigate this, my lady,” Seonghwa pointed out. “I know you told me to see to my room inside, but I will be disregarding that. Forgive me.”
You couldn’t help but laugh—Seonghwa smiled shyly at you and immediately started towards the farm hand. You liked him. He was soft-spoken and sweet and seemed like a good fit for the estate. You only hoped that he could be trusted in the long run… That he would be able to be there for Hyunjin, maybe not in the same way Changbin had been, but something like that.
You followed him, eager to see what the commotion was about. Seonghwa had long legs and walked faster than you, so a conversation was already happening when you made it to him and the farm hand, a boy you had seen around the estate a few times. Ha-ri had told you that Hyunjin had found him at an orphanage years ago and offered him a job on the estate’s small farm. His lordship can’t stand the sight of a child being alone, hungry or cold, Ha-ri had said.
You noticed a carriage down the hill, stopped at the gate. Two horses, two men, carrying one large crate with slits on each side. You frowned, finally turning to the farm boy.
“They say they are farmers, from a few towns over,” he said. “They have a delivery for you, my lady.”
“Well I certainly did not order anything myself,” you pointed out. “I have yet to leave this estate to visit the town.”
“He said that Lord Hwang was sending them,” Seonghwa clarified.
You nodded, feeling a little tense as you wondered what was in that crate. In the end, you told the boy to let the carriage and the men past the gate, watching from your spot near the kitchen. You could smell the roses behind you, their scent carried from the garden by the soft morning breeze. At this moment, you felt your happiness, but you realized it was an elusive thing—it would always evade you, tease you, but it might never make a home out of your heart. So you breathed deeply, letting the floral scent remind you of Hyunjin and his whiskey kisses.
“Should I get someone else?” Seonghwa asked when the carriage had almost reached the end of the path.
You let out a disgruntled sigh. “Feels weird that you and I are in charge of this place and we have no fucking clue what to do, does it?”
Seonghwa was left speechless by your sudden candor but you heard his smile through his voice when he spoke again. “A little, my lady.” There was a pause, and then he added, “Oh, here comes Mrs. Seo, perhaps she heard the horses…”
Ha-ri was indeed coming out from the kitchen door, taking a second to look at the two men who were climbing down the carriage while the farm boy bowed low and said he was going to get Mingi for the horses. Seonghwa went to meet the two men while you stayed behind with Ha-ri.
“Are we expecting some sort of delivery, Ha-ri?” you questioned while the seamstress decided that now was the absolute best time to adjust the green ribbons around your waist.
“Not that I know of, my lady.” She finished redoing the bow and looked over at the carriage. “That’s one large crate, isn’t it? I heard the carriage from upstairs.”
“Hyunjin sends them, apparently.” You couldn’t hear the conversation between Seonghwa and the two men—they were from the working class, as indicated by their clothes and posture. You held no judgment. “Maybe he purchased something while he’s away in the big city.”
“Possible. Lord Hwang does like spending his money.”
Seonghwa had finally turned to you again and was inviting you to join them near the carriage. You lifted your skirt so as not to ruin the fabric at the hem—a habit you did not always keep when Ha-ri wasn’t around—and made your way to the men. They bowed very low while Seonghwa introduced them to you by last and first names. Commoners, but with kindness in their tired eyes.
“These gentlemen come from the town past the river, you must have passed it on your way here, my lady,” Seonghwa explained. “They said they met your husband a few days ago.”
You made them stand up. “Did you, sirs?” you asked, offering them a smile. You meant it this time, for some reason. “I hope Lord Hwang was healthy and well.”
“He was, milady,” the older of the two men told you. “His carriage was damaged right in front of our farm. He needed our help.”
You put a hand over your mouth, suddenly worried, glancing at the large crate behind them. “Oh! Was he, or Mr. Seo, injured?”
“No, no, milady, forgive my father for not making this clear right away,” the other one replied. “They stayed with us overnight and paid us generously. We gave them a tour of our farm, but Lord Hwang was not at all interested in our cows, or our chickens. He sent us here after buying it from us.”
You stared at them, intrigued. The father reached for a bag left on the carriage and pulled out an envelope on which you recognized Hyunjin’s handwriting.
“Buying what from you?” You scoffed, a little nervous, as Seonghwa took the envelope from the man.
“Can’t you hear them, milady?” the son asked you, a smile appearing on his face. “We made sure to take our time on our way so they would be fully healthy and well when they made it to you.”
Hear them? Hear what? You closed the distance between you and the carriage, listening closely. You heard the breathing of the horses, the distant noises of the manor, the bird songs, the breeze… and a low, steady buzzing.
Your mind came to a complete stop and you froze, too shocked to fully process what you were hearing. It took a few seconds before you made eye contact with the farmers again.
“Are those…” you whispered, your voice quivering, “bees?” Behind you, Ha-ri gasped loudly.
“Honey bees, milady, yes,” the father responded with a proud smile on his face. “We had two apiaries and your lord husband showed great interest in them. He made an offer we couldn’t refuse and asked us to deliver one of them to you personally. He said you’re a beekeeper, milady, that you’d take good care of them, that you make the best honey he ever tasted.”
Absolutely nothing could have prepared you for this—you looked around, searching for somewhere to sit as you suddenly felt dizzy, as if you hadn’t had breakfast. You took deep breaths, accepting the envelope from Seonghwa and wasting no time opening it. There was just a short note inside, written on low quality paper with cheap ink, but you would recognize Hyunjin’s handwriting and words anywhere.
Darling,
these two kind men agreed to sell one apiary to me. I may not know much about beekeeping, but their setup seemed proper and the bees were as healthy as they could be, feeding on clover and lavender pollen. I’ve paid them enough to cover them helping you set everything up at the estate, and also covered the fees for them to stay overnight at the town’s inn. May this small gift make your life a little sweeter, less harsh. Much like your presence does with mine.
I hope you are healthy, that things are going smoothly at home, and that I will be seeing you soon.
Sending you my warmest regards, Hyunjin
It took you a long while to get through the letter—so long that the others must have believed you were illiterate. But you read the letter once, and then returned to the very beginning.
Darling. Darling. Darling.
“Gentlemen, may I ask at what time of the day my husband wrote this letter?” you asked, carefully placing it back in its envelope. It was an unusual question, but you needed to know. Darling. Darling. Darling. “After dinner?”
Few things could bother you right now and the puzzled faces of these two farmers was certainly not one of those. “Uh… no, milady—I—”
“It was just before he left, in the morning, milady,” the father replied with a nod. “He asked for paper and ink while Mr. Seo was gathering their things.”
Darling. Darling. Darling. Maybe Hyunjin had still been drunk from the night before when he wrote the note.
You felt Ha-ri’s hand on your shoulder. She squeezed it gently. “My lady,” she whispered. “Are you alright?”
You couldn’t cry. Not now. Not in front of these two farmers, not in front of Seonghwa and not in front of Mingi who was coming to check on the horses. You swallowed your tears but swallowing the thorns of a rose might have been easier.
“Yes, Ha-ri. This is a big gift.” You would cry later, in your bed. You would cry yourself to sleep just like you did every night. Big, yes, but significant was the word you ought to use.
Only Hyunjin knew how you missed it and what it had meant for you to have your apiary at home. Only he could know what this meant for you, the void it had created in your heart when you had to part ways with your passion. With the one thing that had kept you going all these years.
“Where shall we install the apiary, my lady?” Seonghwa asked you, obviously overwhelmed. It was his first day after all, and he certainly didn’t expect he’d have to deal with beehives today.
You took a deep breath, glancing some more at the letter Hyunjin had written and at the hand that was holding it. The same hand that had squeezed his warm cock until he had spilled his seed all over it. The same hand he had held on your wedding day, taking you for your first dance. You had written him many letters with that hand. One for each birthday.
You had hoped for so much. You had hoped that your marriage to Hyunjin would be one of love—but really, did you know what love was at all? If you had never known love, would you know to recognize it?
“Over there, just past these shrubs,” you instructed, motioning at the exact area you had in mind. It would be perfect—there was shade for the beehive itself but plenty of plants and flowers for them to feed on. The view would be nice too, as the lake would be in your vision range as you worked.
The men got to work—carefully, they unloaded the crate onto a wheeled platform brought by a couple of the workers from the estate. Neither of them seemed very comfortable around the bees so you made a mental note—you’d offer them jars of honey as soon as you could. It was still relatively early in the summer so you trusted you’d be able to harvest at least a little of it, if not as much as what you were used to.
You followed them, guided by this brightness within you that the buzzing of the bees seemed to create.
“My lady,” Ha-ri said tentatively. “Would you mind if I went to fetch Hanni? She loves watching the bees gather pollen from flowers in the garden…”
You couldn’t stop a smile from painting itself on your lips. Many years ago, you had been that little girl. Fascinated by the bumblebees on a painted portrait in your house, much more than you had been interested in the main focus of the painting—your future husband.
“By all means, please do. Who knows—in a few years, perhaps she’ll want to learn the secrets of beekeeping.” You liked Hanni a lot. The little girl always had a smile on her face.
You watched Ha-ri walk away but soon reported your attention on the workers and beekeepers when they began opening the crate. While the three of them remained with the hive, the father approached you after taking off his gloves. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small wooden box that you recognized instantly. It was a tiny cage.
The farmer handed it to you. “Your queen, milady.”
You took the box in your hand, inspecting it carefully. The bee looked healthy. Her buzzing was steady and strong—she paced the small cage, eager to be reunited with her hive.
“Thank you, good sir. Thank you for everything.” You turned to the now exposed apiary—it was more modest than the one you had known back home but no less practical. It seemed sturdy, too. Already bees were flying in and out of the cracks disposed all around it. Drones, most likely, searching for their queen, which was still buzzing in your hand. The same hand with which you had touched Hyunjin’s lips, feeling their silky texture, their warmth. The hand that you slid between your legs at night when you were hungry for him.
You wanted to be alone with your bees, even for a minute. Still, you took the time to give warm thanks to the farmers who had sold their apiary to your husband—you asked Seonghwa to please escort them back to their carriage and to make sure they would have snacks and something to drink for their trip to the town, where they would spend the night.
The workers carefully picked up the remnants of the crate and gladly walked away—the more distance they put in between them and the hive, the happier they would be, it seemed. You smiled softly. You had never had it in you to be afraid of bees, and it wasn’t for a lack of stings. Naturally, you had known the pain of stings more than once as you did not like to work with gloves. But you got used to it. At the end of the day, this was better than the pain that you got when your mother made you dance for hours on end to ensure that you knew all the steps and could execute them elegantly. Your socks would be glued to your feet after those days, covered in caked blood and shame.
Bees stung and it hurt, but at least you had control over that. At least, you had chosen that pain over all the other achings inflicted upon you.
Feeling the wood and the slight vibration underneath it felt like coming back to life, or something close to it. The bees were flying around you, impatient to find their queen. You weren’t afraid.
Hyunjin had sent you many gifts over the years. Books, expensive silk and perfumes, fancy ink. Some years, he would send bulbs to be planted around your birthday so that tulips and hyacinths and daffodils would bloom around you in the spring. Make sure to plant them near your window, he had written once, so that the colors and beauty of these flowers keep you company until I can.
And then he had given you the gift of this new life. A safe space. Cloud for your lonely days, a bedroom just for you. A home. A bee colony.
So why was there a void in you?
It felt right when you released the queen bee. It felt meaningful, although you weren’t able to figure out why exactly. You watched her fly around her new home, perhaps she was making herself accustomed to it. Then she disappeared into the apiary.
You knew better than to get to work straight away—you’d give the bees some respite after their travels. Instead, you sat against the trunk of a nearby pine to look at the bees from a distance. To take it all in. To listen to their buzzing layered with birdsong, with the breeze, with the sounds of lazy waves flapping in the distance.
If you had never known peace, would you know to recognize it?
You heard Hanni before you saw the little girl—she appeared running with a smile brighter than the sun on her face, followed by her mother, who tried to keep up with her daughter as best she could. You caught Hanni in flight, hugging her and preventing her from going face-first into an apiary full of live bees. Instead, she settled next to you, an arm under yours.
“Aren’t they beautiful, Hanni?” you asked her while Ha-ri, visibly regretting her decision to involve this little bundle of energy into this, plopped on the other side of you, also leaning against the pine. You handed Hanni the small wooden box still in your hand. “That’s where they put the queen bee while they were transporting them over here. Wherever the queen goes, the colony follows.”
“Is the queen pretty my lady?” Hanni asked with big eyes, pulling gently on the fabric of your dress.
You smiled. Ha-ri reached over you to caress her daughter’s arm lovingly. You took their hands in yours, delight spreading in your heart like an invisible poison—you couldn’t help but feel like you were going to pay the price of the smile on your lips sooner rather than later.
“I think that queen bees are beautiful, yes,” you replied honestly. “But we don’t see them as much as the others, and they’re not as fuzzy as the worker bees, the ones you see working to gather pollen on flowers.”
Hanni sat in silence, nodding as she turned her attention back to the apiary. “Is the king handsome, too?”
You giggled. “There’s no king bee. It’s the queen’s world—she is in charge of the whole colony. She inspects honeycombs and makes sure she can lay her eggs safely.” You paused, watching as two swallows took flight from a small crevice in between two bricks of the manor. “The male bees work for the queen, not the other way around. They see that all of her needs are met, and that she’s happy and healthy.”
Ha-ri’s scoff told enough without words, but she still added, “We should have been born bees instead!” If Hanni hadn’t been there, you would have told Ha-ri about the downsides of the queen’s life, too—after all, it wasn’t all easy for her.
Virgin queens murdered each other so that only one remained—the true queen. After the victorious one emerged, she had only a limited amount of time to mate with drones. If she failed to do so due to weather or other unfortunate circumstances, it would be the end of the colony as there were no other eligible queens to carry it on.
Bees had barbed stingers. It meant that once they string, they died.
Not queens, though. Queen bees could sting repeatedly and remain perfectly healthy, for their stingers lacked barbs.
“I’d like to go out tomorrow, Ha-ri.” The day was beautiful. The sky seemed deep, a blue that reminded you of your favorite dress when you were eight or nine years old. Your sister had been jealous of that dress and had ‘accidentally’ ripped it when she had tried to put it on after stealing it from your bedroom. “Let’s visit the town, you, Seonghwa and I. I’d like to find a thank you gift for my husband.” A nice bottle of whiskey, perhaps. So that you would hear a darling spill from his soft lips again.
“Ha-ri, why is everybody staring at us?”
Behind you, Ha-ri gently pulled on one of the ribbons wrapped around your waist, making sure it held tightly after the short carriage ride from the estate to here. The day was blazing hot, sunnier than yesterday had been—if even possible—and you could already feel your hair sticking to your temples.
Next to you, Seonghwa was having a short conversation with the coachman, explaining that you would be quick with your errands.
You looked around, searching for an answer to your question. Ha-ri came to stand beside you, glancing at you with an enigmatic smile on her face. “Because you’re Lady Hwang, my lady.”
“But, how can they even tell?”
“They know you’re Lady Hwang because they recognize the horses and the carriage, yet, you're new in town,” Ha-ri explained. “They know you’re Lady Hwang because of the silk of your dress, your shiny hair, and because it shows.”
The town was small but had many shops as far as you could tell. You were standing by the pub where the coachman usually left the carriage while Hyunjin or Changbin went and did their errands. You had no idea what you wanted to get Hyunjin exactly, but you just knew that the scale of the gift he had offered you deserved at least a little something. It deserved a gift in return, something to let him know that you appreciated his gesture.
Something to let him know that you weren’t upset with him for what had happened the other night. Sometimes, when your surroundings were too quiet, you still heard him apologizing profusely. I’m sorry. Darling, I’m sorry. A voice heavy with shame. With regret, maybe. You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you could read regret in others even though you had known plenty of it.
Lady Hwang. The one thing you had always known you would become.
You cleared your throat, looking away, choosing to focus on Ha-ri and Seonghwa. “Well, let’s not give them too much of a show to watch,” you decided. You were very much aware of Hyunjin’s reputation around town and had no doubt that the circumstances surrounding his firing of Doctor Yun were known by most, at least to a certain extent. It was the first time you ventured out of the estate since the wedding and you figured that a short appearance would be better than spending the whole day out. Besides, you were looking forward to being back home already to take care of your bees.
You walked behind Seonghwa but next to Ha-ri while she told you all the gossip there was to know about each building and shop on the main road. Who was married to who, who was widowed and who was friends with who.
You had spotted a market where a vendor was selling plants and other greenery—you were considering buying Hyunjin seedlings to add even more roses to his mother’s garden when you passed a shop that caught your attention.
Jeon’s. The building was elegantly built and decorated—large windows showed beautiful furniture as well as other decor items inside the shop.
This was obviously Lord Jeon’s shop, and you stopped right in front of it. “Let’s go in there,” you offered. “I’d like to buy a table or two for the setup around the apiary.”
“W—what? My lady, this is the Jeons’ place,” Ha-ri replied. She almost looked frightened, as if something terrible was waiting for you in that store. “Lord Hwang doesn’t shop there.”
For some reason, you thought about queen bees at that moment. “Well I’m not Lord Hwang, my Ha-ri.” You crossed the few steps that separated you from the door. “Besides, Lord Jeon invited us to dinner. I ought to show some manners and go say hi, don’t you think? It’s not like they’re enemies, is it?”
But Ha-ri’s face seemed to tell you otherwise. Seonghwa opened the door for you, though. “I think Lady Hwang is right,” he said. “It might be good publicity for her to be seen in this store—she’s new blood, after all. It could diffuse the tension between the two families. Besides, I doubt that Lord Jeon himself would be in that store today.”
You weren’t sure you understood why there was tension between Hyunjin and the Jeons, but you were glad that Seonghwa supported you. “Ha-ri, you know, if you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to come in.” You looked behind her, at the stores on the other side of the street. “Isn’t that the shop where you buy your fabrics? You can go there if you prefer. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“With all due respect, my lady, you’re not going in there without me.” Ha-ri walked past you and entered the shop before you or Seonghwa could.
The store was spacious and well-lit due to the large windows all around the building, letting all the sunshine in. A lot of furniture was displayed, and it was all very elegant and fancy. Chairs and armchairs with expensive upholstery, tables made of foreign wood, shelves with elaborate carvings on them. Clients walk among the furniture, looking at everything carefully.
You immediately located the exact kind of table that you thought would suit your needs. They were at the very back of the store, where the more plain-looking pieces were. They may have been a little less intricate in their design, but they had something else you wanted—they looked sturdy and durable, which was ideal for something that would spend several months outside.
“Oh, these tables…” Ha-ri touched one of them, the same one you had noticed. Made of stained hardwood, it was large, with bulky legs and smooth surfaces.
“Wouldn’t this be perfect for your sewing room?” you asked the seamstress, reading her thoughts. “Do you reckon they have more than one of these?”
As if on cue, a man approached the three of you. He was tall and undeniably handsome. Wavy strands of warm brown hair framed his elegant face, but his clothes may have been even more elegant. Linen, velvet and satin. You heard Ha-ri gasp next to you but made yourself smile your best smile. The very one your mother had taught you.
“You must be Lady Hwang,” the man said, dipping his head respectfully. “I thought I recognized your seamstress. What a surprise to see you here today.” He flashed a friendly smile. “I’m Kim Taehyung, it’s a pleasure to have such a special guest in our store today.”
You scanned your memory for that name but it did not ring a bell. Without missing a beat, you turned to Ha-ri and tried to find an answer in her eyes, but she seemed too stunned to react. Thankfully, Seonghwa was acquainted with this man.
“Mr. Kim, thank you for your warm welcome. We’re delighted to meet you.” He spun on his heels, facing you. “My lady, Mr. Kim Taehyung is Lord Jeon’s associate. He is in charge of the company’s stores.”
You nodded and dipped your head in return, showing respect. “Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Kim. You have a lovely selection of items here. Impressive.”
“This would be the first time a Hwang has set foot in this store,” Taehyung observed, still grinning. “And not only is she pretty, she is also gracious. I never thought I’d live to see the day a Hwang would say something kind about our work.”
You weren’t an idiot—you recognized a backhanded compliment when you saw one. You had been the victim of many of those before anyway, and this Taehyung wasn’t particularly subtle about it. After all, before you became one, there was only one Hwang left, and the disdain this man had for Hyunjin was obvious.
But your experience had taught you one thing: in these situations, the best weapon wasn’t cunning, or sarcasm, or criticism. They would be wasted on people like this man who fed on malice. Kindness, however, could take you places. It used to drive your mother crazy when you responded to her acrimony with a soft voice and thoughtful words.
You took a step toward him, reciprocating his grin. “The honor is all mine, Mr. Kim. In fact, I think I’ll be making a significant purchase today.” You spoke gently, making your voice as merry as you could. “Unless you’d rather not do business with a Hwang?”
A flick of the gaze. A slight change in posture. Your arrow had reached its target, but you didn’t let it show that you had noticed, keeping your cheerful demeanor. Kim cleared his throat. “I don’t see why we wouldn’t,” he responded. “In fact, there’s nothing I’d want more, my lady.” He hesitated, shifting his weight on his other leg. “I hear the wedding was quite an event—congratulations are in order. I hope your marriage will be a happy one, my lady.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Kim.” You gave the table a gentle tap. “This one caught our attention—do you have more than one of these?”
“I think we do.” He nodded. “But wouldn’t a lady like you be interested in something more… delicate?”
You gulped, swallowing your rage. Something in the man’s behavior painfully reminded you of your mother. Taunting, concealed between lines of rehearsed fake benevolence.
Whatever rivalry may have existed between your husband and this man’s boss, you figured, had nothing to do with you. So why the witty tone, the remarks? The line between warmth and deception was thin. Thin enough that you saw right through it.
“I assure you that I possess enough intelligence to know what sort of table I require, Mr. Kim. I value durability over looks when it comes to the things I buy, you see. I need two of these tables—one will be for you, Ha-ri—and maybe one of these?” You motioned toward another table a few feet away, similar to the one you had already picked, but in a different size. “They’re for my work and Mrs. Seo’s, so we want something we can trust, and I hear you build the very best furniture in the country.”
Taehyung paused, but only for half a second. “Of course, my lady.” He raised his hand, catching the attention of an employee who hurried toward you with a pen and some paper. “It would be an honor to do business with you.” He dipped his head and when he showed his face again, you thought you saw a glimmer of something in his eyes. Something mischievous, but not quite evil. Playful, perhaps. You hoped for his sake it wasn’t mocking. “Please allow me to offer you a friendly discount for your shopping today.”
Politics, nothing more. You knew enough about men to know this—whatever reasons Kim Taehyung had to offer you a discount, they were not genuine. He would be able to use them against you, or against Hyunjin, should he ever feel like it.
“That won’t be necessary,” you concluded. “Thank you very much, though, but I insist on paying the same price as anyone else walking into your store.” You offered the man a smile, making it as real as you could—but still making sure to add a drop of bitterness to it, to make sure he didn’t take you for a fool—then turned to Seonghwa. “Mr. Seonghwa, would it be alright for you to finish the purchase? Mrs. Ha-ri and I will wait for you outside.”
You let out a sigh after exiting the store. The heat was even worse than it had been before, but at least no one had stuck around just to gape at you.
“What an insufferable man,” Ha-ri muttered under her breath. You suppressed a snort—it wouldn’t be very ladylike of you. “You showed him he shouldn’t treat you like a foolish girl my lady.” She groaned. “Lord Jeon is even worse. I wonder if you and Lord Hwang should decline his invitation…”
You nodded, watching the busy street. A little farther, a group of children were playing with a ball, and part of you wanted to join them. But you stayed close to Ha-ri.
“I don’t like to fold, Ha-ri.” You felt warmth spreading within you, almost as if the rays of the sun permeated through your skin. “All my life I was told to be a good girl and taught how to be one—but I would lie if I said I didn’t enjoy using a little bit of contempt on men like them. Whatever rivalry exists between them and my husband, I don’t intend on letting them think they’re better than us.”
Ha-ri watched you with a mix of apprehension and something that looked like approval. You’d invite her to your room tonight and share a bottle of wine—this way, you’d get a detailed list of all the things she hated about the Jeons.
“Let’s get wine,” you told Ha-ri, turning to her. “And whiskey,” you added, hoping they would have something special. You would get a whole bottle just for Hyunjin.
As Ha-ri was telling you about your options between two different stores to make your purchase, yet another, unrelated shop caught your attention. Across the street, a few buildings down from the one you were standing in front of, was a wooden storefront with a large window. William’s Crafts.
“What is that over there, my Ha-ri?” you asked, showing your friend the store with the painted canvases in its windows.
“Oh! Bill’s! Haven’t been there in a while.” Ha-ri offered you a smile. “I bet his hair is all gray now. He sells art supplies, you see.”
You didn’t know Hyunjin—you had moved here just so recently, weren't yet accustomed to your new life. You had never met him before, had never seen him before except for one portrait sent by his family to yours when you were a baby. You didn’t know him except for the letters he sent you every year.
You knew him better than anyone on this Earth, and you had read Hyunjin’s letters over and over until they were engraved in your brain, in your soul.
I was hoping I could send you a sketch this year, but I’m afraid I can’t. Father doesn’t want me drawing, he says it’s a waste of time and gave my pencils away to the Count’s daughter.
Seonghwa was reappearing, climbing down the few steps of the Jeon’s store to join you again. “Ha-ri,” you started, your voice shaking with trepidation, with something darker, too, “let’s go to Bill’s shop right away. I’d like to see what he has.”
Hyunjin may have been exhausted from traveling and from the week of hard labor behind him, but all he felt when he saw the outline of his home in the distance was relief. It grew in his chest slowly, reminding him of the wisteria that grew on the western walls of the manor—vines progressing slowly, becoming sturdier, stronger, until the fragrant flowers bloomed. This is how he felt. Like a sweet scent had established its quarters in his heart.
Because, for the first time in his life, Hyunjin had something to return home to. Something. Someone. You.
Had the apiary made it in one piece? The farmers had assured him they would be able to transport it safely and that the colony would only suffer minimal losses. They had showed him how they would proceed, and had even demonstrated their methods to ensure the well-being of the queen. Hyunjin knew nothing about beekeeping, but these men had seemed like they were capable enough.
Had you liked the gift? Had it made you happy? Happier, at least?
Hyunjin emerged from his distracted state when Changbin nudged him. The carriage’s cabin may have been small—and they may have been just the two of them in it—but Hyunjin had been lost in his thoughts nonetheless, not paying much attention to what his friend was telling him.
It was dusk—the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, cooling the air a little. Still, Hyunjin kept his gaze on the window. “Sorry, Changbin. You were saying?”
“I was asking if the new doctor would be there,” Changbin retorted, obviously annoyed but also amused.
“Unless there has been a change of schedule, Dr. Lee should arrive tomorrow,” Hyunjin reminded him. “Are you alright?”
Changbin chuckled, trying to conceal a grin but failing miserably. “Me, sir? I’m quite alright. It’s you I’m worried about. I haven’t seen you in this state since… well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” Seo Changbin was a funny man, and his playfulness always came from a good place. In fact, it was his humor that had kept Hyunjin going a lot of the time, all these years.
Hyunjin played along but kept his composure. “Seen me like what, Changbin?”
Changbin let out a laugh. “Whatever the opposite of sulking is, sir.” He paused, his expression returning to something more serious. “I jest but really, I mean it.” Another pause, longer this time—long enough that they had reached the gate by the time Changbin spoke again. “Are we not going to talk about the other night, Hyunjin?”
There were no specifications required—Hyunjin knew exactly what night Changbin was referring to. The evening with you, in your bedroom, the evening where jealousy and lust had created an ugly storm within him. Not ugly. Mighty would be a more appropriate word.
He had thought a lot about that night, about the things he had learned about you and the things you had learned about him. You had every reason to hate him, to resent him—Hyunjin knew this. The apiary and the bees weren’t a way to make you forget his faults and his flaws, flaws that he had well before marrying you. It was just a way to make your daily life a little better. It was just so you could have something that was yours, and yours only.
Hyunjin had thought a lot about that night, the same way a religious man would think about his god. The same way a man affected by illness would obsess about a cure. And what if there was no cure? What if there was no god to hear his prayers?
He couldn’t stop thinking about you, your lips like satin, your warm breath on his skin. Your hand around his cock, inquisitive, forgiving, smooth. He couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of your mouth and the scent that had lingered on his fingers after you had pressed his hand between your legs. Just a faint smell, sweet, made diffuse with the scent of his own sweat and the floral water your clothes had soaked in. He wanted more of it, more of you. He wanted your scent sticking to him like expensive cologne from Paris, your essence coating his fingers, his cock, his lips—
Changbin interrupted his thoughts, and perhaps it was better this way. “So I guess we’re not going to talk about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest as the carriage slowed down, approaching the manor.
“What is there to say?” Hyunjin meant this. As far as he knew, all that Changbin was aware of was that he had gotten drunk and then you had needed his help to get Hyunjin up the next morning.
The truth, of course, was much worse. Or much better, depending how one perceived it. Hyunjin had gotten drunk on whiskey, but then he had gotten drunker on you and the jealousy stirring up inside of him as he learned about you, and that maid of yours. And yet he had no reason to be jealous.
He wanted to forget your eyes the exact moment you had asked him about the brothels, and the girls. But just like the memory of your scent, your gaze haunted him.
How would you welcome him back home? Hyunjin was no fool—he knew all too well that an apiary wouldn’t suffice to erase his wrongdoings. He just wanted you to have something. He just wanted you to feel like you belonged.
“You are your own worst enemy,” Changbin reminded him. “The only thing getting in your way is yourself.”
Hyunjin felt a pang of anger rise within him but he made efforts to keep his voice low so that he wouldn’t be heard by the driver. “You know that’s not exactly true.” But really, Hyunjin meant, you know I have my reasons. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t even want to think about it.
The only thing getting in Hyunjin’s way was his father, and the legacy he had left him with. The Hwang curse, the one he had passed on to you when he had married you. He shouldn’t have kept his end of the bargain—the deal had been between his father and yours in the first place anyway.
He wished he could free you. That he could disappear, get on a boat and fuck off to another continent. They’d assume he was dead and you would become the sole owner of his property. You’d eventually remarry, hopefully to a good man who could give you a child or two before it was too late. A man that wouldn’t be cursed. A man with a heart in his chest instead of a vacant space.
He couldn’t. He simply could not do that for reasons too ugly, too elaborate for him to even think about tonight. This fairytale would never come true, not even if he actually died right here, right now. All of this thanks to his shithead of a father. All of this thanks to the legacy he had left behind.
Hyunjin’s breathing became shallow when the carriage slowed down, then stopped. He turned to Changbin. “I appreciate your counsel, Changbin. I’ll keep that in mind. You should go and find Ha-ri, I’m sure she and the kids missed you.”
Changbin was not an idiot—Hyunjin’s polite way of dismissing him only indicated he wanted to be alone. Still, Changbin nodded. “It was my intention to do just that, sir.”
The night was nice and a warm breeze flew over them when Hyunjin left the carriage. The driver was already getting their bags to a domestic. He was with Anhjong and with another man that Hyunjin finally recognized as Park Seonghwa.
“My replacement!” Changbin had initially wanted to refuse his new position among Hyunjin’s council but in the end Hyunjin had convinced it would be for the best. More importantly, he had made him understand that his upbringing shouldn’t be a source of shame for him. “It’s nice seeing you again, Seonghwa. It’s been a while.”
Seonghwa had been employed under Christopher for many years but had left the Bangs for a short while when his father had become ill. Not wanting to leave his mother and younger siblings in need, he had returned to the farmstead where he had been raised, only to come back when he was no longer needed over there. Christopher had taken him back, naturally—but at the news of his return, Hyunjin had asked if he could perhaps employ Seonghwa. He had always liked him, his soft demeanor, his intelligence. It had been the perfect occasion to finally promote Changbin.
“Mr. Seo, what a pleasure indeed.” The new steward dipped his head with a wide smile. He turned to Hyunjin, dipping his head lower. “Lord Hwang, it is an honor to—” But Hyunjin cut him off when the man went to kneel.
“No, please.” Hyunjin hated this. How people either respected him because of his last name or despised him because of it. As if there was no in-between. “Stand, Mr. Seonghwa. And let me wish you a warm—but late—welcome into my home. Thank you for accepting to come work here.”
Few people actually wanted to work for him. Because of his last name, of course. Thankfully, being a Hwang had the perk of making him rich, which greatly helped when it was time to find staff.
“Thank you for offering the job, my lord.” Seonghwa’s smile grew larger if it were even possible. His eyes shone under the dim light of the lanterns. “When Lord Christopher told me about it… I couldn’t refuse. I’ve always liked your estate, sir.”
Hyunjin felt a strange pride rise within him. There was one thing he did like and it was the manor itself, its stone walls, its large windows, and the pine forest surrounding the grounds. He liked the garden, too, and its fragrant flowers, and the magnolia tree.
“I’m very much looking forward to having you among us, Mr. Seonghwa. Are things going smoothly?”
Changbin seemed to have calmed down, but Hyunjin knew he owed him an apology, and not just for the last few moments in the carriage. He had been insufferable all week, tortured by regret and dark thoughts during the day, and haunted by the memory of you at night. Your delicate hand around his cock… your face as you had tasted and swallowed his cum. He was certain he would become crazy. Insane. That he would have to be institutionalized.
“Quite good, or so I think.” Seonghwa was helping the driver as he piled up bags, and Hyunjin joined them while Changbin was gathering the belongings left on the seat. “Dr. Lee arrived a couple of days ago and he’s settling in well. Oh, and there was a minor plumbing issue in the east wing but it was fixed the same day with no damage, my lord.”
Hyunjin nodded. He’d need to meet with Dr. Lee as soon as possible, but he figured it could wait as it was already late. After all, they weren’t supposed to return tonight—the initial plan involved them staying overnight in the nearby town instead of traveling in the dark, but Hyunjin had offered Changbin to travel for a little longer so that he could be reunited with his family sooner. Of course, Changbin had accepted, and while Hyunjin knew he had been eager to be with them again, he also knew his friend had read him like an open book.
“Thank you, Seonghwa.” Hyunjin cleared his throat, thankful for the darkness. He leaned against the bags, taking a deep breath. “Do you happen to know if my wife has gone to bed?” Ignoring Changbin’s side glance, he went on. “I bought a few things for her on my travels.”
Anhjong had left for a few minutes for the kitchen, bringing back with her a pitcher of lemonade and empty glasses. She had been avoiding his gaze, but did a very poor job at suppressing her amused smile when she heard Hyunjin.
“Ah, we haven’t seen much of your lady wife this week, have we, my lord?” Seonghwa chuckled, sharing a knowing smile with Anhjong. “She’s been quite busy with her apiary.”
Hyunjin’s heart jumped in his chest. “So she likes them? The bees?”
It was Anhjong who responded to him. “That would be an understatement, my lord.” She offered him a glass of cool lemonade, which he accepted eagerly. He noticed it wasn’t quite the same as usual. Just as sweet, but a different kind of sweet. It had been made with honey instead of sugar. “Mr. Seonghwa isn’t exaggerating—we’ve barely managed to keep your wife indoors for more than an hour at a time since she’s received your gift.”
He tried to remain calm and to keep his composure. Hyunjin drank the lemonade in one go, putting the empty glass back on the tray. “She can’t be still out there at this hour, can she?” He couldn’t see your window from here.
“I actually am not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” the maid admitted. “I’ll go get her, my lord.”
Hyunjin sounded a little too keen when he spoke. “No, that’s alright!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, it is late, Ahnjong. You and Mr. Seonghwa deserve to get some rest. Where did they install the apiary, exactly?”
“Oh, not far from the furthermost entrance of the garden, by the pine tree,” Seonghwa explained.
Hyunjin breathed deeply, hesitating. “Then I should go check up on her, make sure she gets back inside. Goodnight, everybody.” He offered a shitty but apologetic smile to Changbin. “Say hi to Ha-ri for me, will you?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
After urging everyone to get to their rooms, Hyunjin started his journey around the manor to reach you. He actually took the longer route just to give himself some time to clear his mind, to think about something other than the ideas clouding his thoughts. Your lips, soft, delicate, coated in honey. Or his saliva, or his cum. Your laugh, the one you had when you really meant it. The letters you had written for him and the sweet gifts you had attached.
There were many things Hyunjin didn't like about himself. In fact, he may have many enemies in this world but nobody hated him as much as he hated himself. But you had changed things. And perhaps you had changed him—it certainly felt like it, although he couldn’t say how exactly. But you were his favorite thing about his life, and had been for a long time.
It was completely dark by the time he reached the spot, but the soft lighting of the dining room window sufficed to tell Hyunjin you weren’t, in fact, working on your apiary tonight. He couldn’t see too well, but he noticed the apiary itself sitting on top of what seemed to be a sturdy table. Another table had been added next to it, with a couple of chairs and some tools and other supplies. He dared not approach—would the bees react to him, attack him?
Instead, Hyunjin looked farther down the path ahead of him. If he followed it, he would continue to circle the manor and eventually pass your window. If I see light, I’ll at least let her know I’m home, Hyunjin decided. It seemed like the sort of thing a husband would do, right?
His mouth was dry despite the lemonade. Would you even want to talk to him? Maybe the time apart had been enough for you to realize what a loser he really was—for all he knew, the reason you apparently spent all your time outside was because you couldn’t bear to be elsewhere. Maybe—
Hyunjin’s train of thoughts was cut abruptly when he noticed the light in your window. It was dim, but it was there. No more than a candle or two, but enough to let him know that you were awake. You liked to read before bed, you had always told him in your letters. It had made him want to be a talented author so that he could write for you, endlessly, story after story.
Instead of heading back inside, Hyunjin decided to go up the outdoor stairs leading to your balcony. This way, he’d be able to make sure you were actually awake instead of knocking at your door and risk waking you.
He wouldn’t be mad if you were asleep. Would it be wrong to stay there and watch you? Just for a little while? He hadn’t been able to stare at you long enough, and maybe his whole entire life wouldn’t be enough anyway. As if your beauty was too grand, too intricate, for him to process in just a few minutes, hours, or even years. It was the sort of beauty that started from within, that grew from your heart, extending to every part of you.
The sort of beauty that his mere existence would be enough to taint it. To ruin it, to ruin you.
Hyunjin heard you when he reached the top of the staircase. The curtains were pulled, but you had left the door cracked open, and the sound came from there. He stopped in his tracks, almost falling down the stairs, listening more closely. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Surely, he hadn’t heard well. Surely, it was something else.
Until he heard your voice again. Moaning, breathing hard, whimpering. Moans so beautiful it made him want to cry. Moans so beautiful it made his cock twitch, and an aching pressure grew inside of him.
And then the anger came. Were you with a man in there? Were you actually letting a man have his way with you while you thought Hyunjin was still away?
Hyunjin wanted many things at once—he wanted to turn back and run away, far far away. He wanted to barge into the room and kill the man who dared touch you, to make you moan like that. He wanted to sit here on the cool rock of the balcony and listen to you and cry.
But instead, he took a look inside.
When he was little, Hyunjin had ventured out of the manor, craving adventure. Craving solitude, too. He was usually allowed in the garden on his own but no farther. That day, however, he had gone into the pine forest, and he had walked for a long time. Just him, a pen, and a piece of paper. He also kept a bottle of ink in his pocket in case he ran out, but he took note of all the things he saw that day. Deer, partridges, a few minks here and there. Foxes, ravens, all sorts of warblers he couldn’t name. Another strange bird whose voice sounded like a flute. He had thought he saw a bear in the distance but he wasn’t sure.
Anyway—Hyunjin had gotten lost that day following the trail of a badger. He just wanted to catch a glimpse of it and its striking black-and-white face. The sun was already on its way down when he had realized he couldn’t find his way back to the estate, and a wave of panic had spread through him, taking up all the space inside his veins, his whole body, doubling his body weight, or so it had felt like it. There had been many layers to that panic—his father would kill him when he’d find out, and what would the maids say behind his back? Would they blame his mother? Was it too late—could he avoid being caught at all? Surely, nobody had noticed his absence. Right? Right? Right?
He felt sort of like that tonight but instead of surging through him, the state of alarm grew slowly and steadily, setting fire to his skin. He could not look away from the inside of the room, could not look away from the bed.
He could not look away from you.
There was a lot to process and watching you truly felt like being lost in a forest after dark. You were on the bed, on your knees, and your body was undulating much like the branches of a willow on a breezy day, or maybe like the waves of a stormy sea. You had a white nightgown over your body but it did very little to conceal your thighs and Hyunjin could see something in between them. It wasn’t a man, or a woman, and it wasn’t even your own hand.
You were rubbing yourself onto one of your pillows, squirming and moaning and rolling your hips, seeking pleasure in each movement. The moans were quiet as you often bit your lip to prevent being heard. But you couldn’t help it, the little whimpers, the gasps, as you fucked yourself onto that pillow.
Hyunjin watched, stunned, observing every detail of the scene, every detail of you. The white, almost see-through fabric of your sleep gown, allowing him to see your nipples poking through and the soft color of them. He wished it wasn’t so dark and he wished he could see better.
He wished that instead of the pillow, it was him between your legs. Blood rushed to his cock as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust, as your head fell back when the rolling of your hips intensified. He was throbbing already, his erection pressing against his pants almost painfully. He wanted nothing more than to join you and fuck you into your mattress, over and over, filling you to the brim. He wanted nothing more than seeing his own seed drip from the hole he had just fucked sloppy.
He wanted to eat his cum off your pretty cunt and kiss you with his mouth full of it.
He felt his cock over his trousers, imagining it were your hand fondling him, picturing your bare breasts and his mouth over them. Maybe he would cum on them, too. If he could, if he were anything but what he was—the Orphan or Lord Hwang or whatever—he would fuck every part of you. Your virgin cunt, your tight ass, your pretty tits. He would fuck your mouth, watch his cock disappear between your peach-colored lips, and listen to the sound of you choking on the cum he would spurt directly into your throat.
His eyes followed your movement—his hand, too. He rubbed himself to the same swaying motion as your hips. If any blood was still flowing to his brain, he would notice the amplitude of your movements. But all he had in mind was to be in the place of that pillow and to watch you take all of him, just like that, just like the little whore you were.
He had to bite into his fist when you came. You came the same way an angel would ascend from earth after a divine visit—quick humps on the pillows followed by long, languid ones, both of your hands on your breasts, your legs wide open. Hyunjin had been to museums a few times and none of the paintings there could compare to the art that was your orgasm.
Deep, raspy moans, long ones, moans that you couldn’t keep quiet. Your voice made him want to die—if he wasn’t the one making you scream, what was the point anyway? Your voice made him want to live forever, because the existence of you was the point of life itself. You, the perfection that you were, his pretty wife fucking herself—and fucking herself good. Good enough to fill your bedroom with your honeyed voice, in waves of pleasure more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before.
His cock was throbbing and leaking by the time you collapsed onto your bed with a sigh, spent and content. He quickly disappeared behind the door, fearing you might see him now that you were done. But he couldn’t hold himself for much longer. Hell, if you decided to go at it again, he didn’t think he could resist joining you. Maybe he’d fuck you once on your bed, then he’d bend you over your table and fuck his cum deeper into you until he had rendered you properly dumb, until you had lost your words.
The knock on the door inside your bedroom brought him back to his senses. “My lady?”
It seemed to shock you just as much as it shocked him. He heard an abrupt brushing of fabric and figured you had probably quickly covered yourself. “Anhjong? What is it?” Your voice was trembling a little and you were out of breath. He wanted nothing more than to kiss your neck and revel in the taste of your sweat.
“I’m so sorry to bother you my lady, I saw light and…” The maid’s voice trailed off, just for a few seconds. “Lord Hwang just returned and he… he was looking for you, my lady. He went to look for you at the apiary but you weren’t there, and I thought you’d like to be informed of his return.”
The silence that spread in the room was thicker than honey. “Hyunjin? He was supposed to be back tomorrow.” Again, brushing of fabrics, but followed by footsteps now. You had gotten up. Hyunjin gulped and closed his eyes, hoping you wouldn’t be coming anywhere near this side of the room. He feared you might hear his pulse if you did, for his heart had rarely beat so strongly before.
He heard more ruffling and a door being opened. “Where is he now?” you asked. “Did he say why he was back early?”
Hyunjin heard the playful smile in your maid’s voice. “According to Mr. Seo, Lord Hwang tried to insist it was to make sure he would be reunited with Ha-ri sooner.” She chuckled silently. “But I think he missed you, my lady.”
You didn’t say anything for several seconds, and Hyunjin couldn’t hear ambient noises while a breeze blew over. It faded after a while but you still hadn’t spoken.
When you did, it was with a much steadier voice than you had earlier. “How do I look? My hair?”
“Beautiful, my lady. Should I send Mr. Seonghwa to find Lord Hyunjin?”
“No thank you, Anhjong—I’ll find him myself, he can’t be very far.” He heard more footsteps, and the beginning of another sentence, but it was cut off when you closed the door behind you after leaving your bedroom.
… and Hyunjin breathed again, finally filling his lungs and exhaling painfully. He was still dizzy and he knew now it had very little to do with his lack of oxygen. What would you have thought of him if you had found him like this, stalking you during this intimate moment with a hand over the bulge in his trousers?
He knew two things—he needed to cum and he needed to get the fuck out of there. If you had been told he was outside, it was likely that he’d encounter you if he went down the steps and through the main entrance. He did not want you to see him in the state he was in, not after being absent, not after what had happened before he left.
Hyunjin would go through your bedroom and into the hallway and lock himself in his bedroom to take care of the ache in his balls. And then he’d let you see him, perhaps, if he had calmed down. If he could ever calm down.
There were voices in Hyunjin’s mind, and one of them kept telling him that he would never, ever be content, never feel satiated, not if he couldn’t have you.
He smelled you the second he stepped into the room and it made the simple task of walking difficult. There were a few scents floating in the room—the floral water they soaked your linen in, your perfume, and the faint smell of your previous home that lingered on your clothes and your belongings, like the salt of the ocean. But the only scent that seemed to be of any importance to Hyunjin was you—not whatever you sprayed behind your ears. Your essence.
He should have crossed the room and not paid any mind to anything but your bed caught his attention. The pillow was still on it, exactly where it had been while you were riding it and cumming all over it. The bed was unmade, unruly, and he wanted to lie on it and coat himself in your scent. He wanted to wait for you there.
He did not. Instead, he came closer. The bed was still warm but that wasn’t the important part—in the dim light of the candles, Hyunjin could see that the pillow was wet. There was a stain where your pussy had been moments ago, and it glistened under the quivering flames. He choked on his air, his blood boiling under his skin. Surely, this is how dying felt like.
His aching cock begged him to please, please touch the stain, inhale your scent, fill his lungs with it. Naturally, Hyunjin obliged.
He reached for the soft pillow, pulling it towards him and then under his nose. His pulse was so loud that he wouldn’t hear you if you came back into the room but he was past caring. All of his troubles had evaporated into thin air, replaced by the ghost of your moans echoing in his ears and the sweet scent of your virgin cunt. He smelled again, and again, his cock pulsing each time.
Your scent was as pretty as you were. Hyunjin’s eyelids fluttered when his lips accidentally brushed against the damp fabric of the pillow, harvesting a few drops of your juices on them. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—
There was no turning back now. Hyunjin inhaled deeply before carefully parting his lips to lick you off the pillow. He couldn’t let it go to waste, could he?
Your taste hit him like a violent storm, like an earthquake, like a song, like the first day of spring. You tasted sweet and tangy with deeper, more complex whispers of salt, musk and honey. One lick was not enough to comprehend the intricacy of your essence—Hyunjin began lapping frantically at the stain you had left while burying his hand into his trousers to relieve the unbearable pressure in his groin. His cock was the hardest it had ever been, and warm to the touch.
He used the pillow to muffle his moan when he squeezed himself. He was close already. He wanted to cum, finally, to rid himself of the ache. He never wanted to cum, he wanted to stay here, lost in your scent, your taste. The pillow wasn’t enough—he needed his face buried into your pussy, your sweet juices coating him, your thighs around his neck, your weight on his throat. It should have been him you were straddling, it should have been his face you were riding. For hours. For days. It didn’t matter if Hyunjin died there because he would have reached heaven before his last breath.
It took three strokes for Hyunjin to cum. He came thinking of fucking your virgin cunt with his tongue and teasing your clit until you sank your finger nails into his scalp. He came thinking of your soaked folds, of your pretty pussy, all creamy, just for him. He came thinking of your moans turning into his name that you were chanting, over and over, as he fucked you. He came so hard that he lost his balance and ended with one knee on your bed as he shot long strings of cum, soiling his pants. He gasped and whined into your pillow and your juices as he pulsed into his palm, his whole body convulsing through his orgasm.
Maybe it took him an hour to recover. Maybe it took him a minute. His cum was dripping down his thigh, almost reaching his knee, when Hyunjin managed to stand upright again. He let go of your pillow, putting it back on the bed where it had been. Hyunjin adjusted his softening cock into his pants and wiped his hand on them. He would need to change. He needed to clean up. You’d smell him and you’d smell yourself on him, too, if you saw him.
So Hyunjin made a run for it, bolting out of the room and carefully closing the door behind him. The hallway was dimly lit, but he noticed Cloud as the kitten chased something. A mouse, or a bug perhaps. She paid him no mind as Hyunjin ran to his room as quietly as he could.
Shame overcame him when he pressed his back against the closed—and locked—door of his own bedroom. It washed over him slowly and he closed his eyes. He could still smell you. He could still taste you. His cock was still tingling with the aftershock of his strong orgasm.
Every time he took a breath, your scent invaded him again, and the taste of your pussy haunted his lips. This whole time, his whole life, he had been certain that by marrying you, he was going to make you miserable—that you’d be a prisoner. A captive of the misery he had put you in.
But now he understood. You may have been a prisoner but so was he. His wrists were bound by an invisible thread made of shame and guilt and gold. He was just as much of a captive as you were, but his goaler had lips softer than silk and a pussy that tasted sweeter than honey. People thought of him as unstable, people said he was insane—but Hyunjin knew that was nothing compared to the madness that would conquer him over time. Simply because you were his wife. Simply because he’d rather destroy himself than letting you pay the price of his father’s mistakes.
Hyunjin jumped when someone knocked at his door. Afraid it might be you, he quickly pressed against the door to make sure that you wouldn’t be able to open it despite it being locked.
He sighed in relief when he heard Seonghwa’s voice. “My lord? Are you in there? Your lady wife is looking for you—she was not outside, but indoors.”
Hyunjin took a deep breath. “Thank you, Seonghwa.” He hesitated. “I realized I was rather grimy after all this travel and that I should change before meeting with my wife. In fact, could you send a basin of warm water, please?”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll make sure her ladyship is informed that you’ll meet her shortly.”
Hyunjin didn’t even respond—besides, he heard Seonghwa’s footsteps as he walked away in the hallway. He didn’t waste any more time and went into the bathroom to undress. Someone must have been warned of their arrival because they had lit up his bedroom already, and the room basked in the soft lighting of a few lanterns and some candles. He watched the flames dance for a few seconds before using a handkerchief to wipe the cum that was drying on his thigh. He wrapped himself in a robe while Ahnjong herself brought the water. She still had this smile on her face that Hyunjin simply couldn’t read.
“Thank you, Anhjong.” The maid also left him with clean towels. “I’ll be downstairs very soon.” He wasn’t even sure he wanted to see you right now, not that the idea was unpleasant, but more because he didn’t know how he would react. And yet, he had missed you. More than he thought he would.
“Actually, my lord, your wife has asked me to let you know she’ll be waiting for you in her bedroom in a little while.” The maid’s smile grew wider but she did her best to conceal it. “She is washing up as well and will be ready promptly.”
Yes, of course—you’d want to wash the scent of sex off your skin before meeting with him. Same as he was doing. In another life, his scent would have been laced with yours. Perhaps he would bathe with you after making love to you, and massage your favorite oils into your skin. Would you let him brush your hair? Would you let him wrap you in soft blankets and hold you until you fell asleep?
This life that could never be. This life that would haunt him.
“I’ll be quick,” he assured, and Anhjong exited the room, leaving Hyunjin alone.
Hyunjin washed up, starting with his face. Despite the warmth of the air, the hot water felt good on his skin, melting the day away, and the sweat, and maybe a little bit of the shame, too. But it would take a lot more than warm water to erase all of it—Hyunjin didn’t think that anything could ever rid him of this burden anyway.
You sat for what seemed like a long while on the stone railing of your balcony. You needed fresh air—your heart was beating in your chest as if you had run laps around the estate, and one might have believed that you had a fever based on the warmth emanating from your skin. But it was not that at all. You were nervous. Excited, maybe. A little bit of both.
Hyunjin was back. Finally.
You had missed him, missed his presence around the manor, missed the sight of him wandering the garden in the afternoon. The sound of his voice, the scratching of his pen on paper, his delicate footsteps. You had missed him and yet you feared his return. He gave you bees. He gave you a colony of bees, you kept repeating yourself. The night was clear and there were stars in it, twinkling and shining and decorating the dark-blue sky. It must have been a new moon because you couldn’t see it. There was a knot in your stomach. He gave you a bee colony, but what did it actually mean?
Would he speak to you gently? Would he tell you all about his business trip, the people he met? Would he tell you about the foods he ate, about the work he did? Would he ask you about the bees?
You looked down at the small table in between the set of chairs that had been placed for your convenience, so you could enjoy your balcony. The bottle of whiskey you had bought for Hyunjin waited here—when he would join you, Seonghwa would take care of moving the other gift you had found for Hyunjin into his room. You hoped that he would like it.
You hoped that he would drink some whiskey, that you would hear him call you darling again, that he would kiss you and touch you, that his tongue would play with yours again. You hoped for more, you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help craving him, his smooth cock, his scent. His voice in your ear, whispering everything and nothing all at once. The look on his face while he came—the ecstasy overcoming him, taking control of his soul. You wanted to feel him again. Taste him again.
Hyunjin knocked at your door just a few minutes later—you were grateful he didn’t leave you to wait for too long, as you were a little impatient to see him again. You didn’t even know how he would behave. After all, after the other night, he had barely talked to you, and then he had left…
You recognized his personal knock. It was short yet melodic. “Yes,” you said, making sure to speak up to be heard. “Come in.” But you didn’t hear the door being pushed open due to how deafening your heartbeat was.
You had forgotten how handsome he was. You knew that he was handsome, but it was as if his absence had made you forget exactly the extent of his beauty. You observed him as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, noticing that he did not lock it. He was wearing a white linen shirt and dark slacks, but his hair was unruly and he seemed tired. Or maybe that was a trick of the light.
He was looking around the room, evidently searching for you. “I’m outside,” you called. “Care to join me for a drink?” You took the bottle from the table, hiding it behind your back. Childish, foolish. And yet. Your skin was pricking from the anticipation of being reunited with your husband, as fucked up as your marriage was.
Hyunjin paused, or hesitated, before crossing the room. You stood as he stepped foot on the balcony, unable to look away from him, his angelic face and the dark locks of hair framing it. His lips like rose petals, his molasses eyes. You froze in place, air stuck in your throat, the memory of his body against yours invading your mind, clouding it.
He froze too, staring at you intently, his eyes going up and down and left and right, waltzing over your body like a skilled dancer would on a dancefloor. And yet, his gaze always returned to yours, although it tended to melt a little and linger on your lips more than elsewhere.
You dipped your head—just a little, not too much so as not to upset him. “Welcome back, Hyunjin.” You smiled when you looked at him again. “I’m happy to see you.”
He did not move, did not bat an eye. Hyunjin stared at you for a long while, a frown forming between his brows. You wanted to jump over the balcony railing and run away in shame.
He must have noticed a sudden change in your mood, but he stuttered when he spoke. “I’m—I’m very—huh—” He gulped thickly and bit his lower lip. “You’re happy to see me.”
He hadn’t said it as a question, not even really as a statement—Hyunjin was repeating your words as if he hadn’t grasped the meaning of them, despite the words being quite simple.
“I’m glad you’re back,” you tried again, hoping the message would reach him, but it didn’t look like it did. You decided to act quickly and pulled the whiskey bottle from behind your back. “This is just a small welcome-back gift. And a thank you gift, too.”
Hyunjin blinked, staring at the whiskey. “For me?”
Would he just repeat everything you said like this until you both grew old and gray? “Yes, for you.” You shook the bottle, inviting him to take it from you. “Be honest with me if you don’t like this. I wanted something special for you.”
Slowly, Hyunjin reached for the whiskey and looked at the bottle under the flame of a candle. “Infused with botanicals?” His voice was soft, low, almost like he didn’t want to be heard. “I never tried that before.” He frowned again, meeting your gaze. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to.” You leaned against the railing, welcoming the cool stone under your touch. You paused, searching for the right words, but there was no right or wrong here, just the blunt, simple truth. “You bought a bee colony. For me.”
Hyunjin nodded, putting the whiskey bottle on the table as he worked on opening it. “Yes, it was a pure coincidence that one of our wheels needed repair exactly at this location.” Every word he said filled his mouth like notes played on a piano before spilling from his plush lips like the most gentle breeze. “I… I know it doesn’t erase what I did.” Maybe he found it easier to speak with you when he was looking away from you. “I hope it makes you happier. A little.”
“What you did?” You sighed, hoping he didn’t mean what you thought he meant. “Are you talking about… about the other night, before you left?”
It took several seconds before Hyunjin spoke again. “I should not have disrespected you. I’m your husband.”
Sometimes, you could still feel him rutting against you, your hand wrapped around his pretty cock. Thinking about it made you wet. “You didn’t disrespect me. I’m your wife.”
Hyunjin turned around swiftly, facing you. He was closer now, just inches away from you, towering over you—but you were not frightened, no matter how upset he may look. Darkness may have made a home out of him, but you had never been afraid of the dark. “And you think that I should treat you like this just because you’ve had the misfortune of being promised to me?”
You took a deep breath. To keep your composure. To inhale his scent. He smelled like freshly pressed clothes and sweat and cologne, and you wanted to bury your face in his neck. “It’s not a misfortune.” Why you were happy to be his wife eluded you, but you were, and you couldn’t deny it. “Not to me,” you added, knowing full well he was projecting his own issues onto you.
To relieve his bitterness, maybe. Or something. After all, Hyunjin was an important man—his father may have done what he did, it had only affected his wife and son. It had taken nothing away from the weight of the Hwang name. A weight that burdened Hyunjin… and you, too, now.
But Hyunjin was important enough that he could have married some relative of the king himself. Hyunjin looked like a prince, sometimes acted like one. A tortured one, but still—you knew he didn’t resent you, but you also knew he resented his marriage to you.
Your husband gazed into your eyes, scanning your irises as if you were a book written in a foreign language. You tried to hold his gaze but it was difficult. You wanted to look at his lips, too, to remember what they felt like.
He just shook his head, did not deny your suspicions. “Thank you. For the whiskey.” He wet his lips with one enticing swipe of the tongue. “Let’s have a drink.”
You sat down while he unscrewed the cork, looking away. You couldn’t see much from here, but looking at the dark night was better than the alternative. Not that Hyunjin was unpleasant to look at—quite the contrary.
The more you stared at him, the more love for him grew in your heart, and you knew it could destroy you.
The familiar sound of the amber liquid being poured in your glass brought you back to reality. Hyunjin raised his glass at you after sitting across from you and you returned the gesture, still letting him have the first taste. You did study him as he coated his mouth with the liquid, letting its flavors spread on his taste buds. His expression softened and the corners of his lips turned into a faint smile.
“This is delicious, actually.” He signaled you to have a taste. “I’ve never tasted anything like this.”
Neither had you. The whiskey itself was crisp, yet sweet, and yet undeniably vegetal. It tasted like a summer day. Like freshly cut grass, like rosemary, like marjoram, like bitter orange, like juniper berries. The man who had sold it to you had also mentioned it being infused with saffron and fir needles.
“Oh my god,” Hyunjin added, drinking more, licking every drop of it off his plush lips. “How come I never had this before?” He was staring at the content of his glass as if it contained the answers to his question. The whiskey was darker than a regular one, but you still saw the candle flames reflect on it like a dance.
You chuckled, pleased that your gift had the desired effect on him. “I doubt you often do your own shopping, especially not in town,” you pointed out. “Am I wrong?”
“You’re not.” Hyunjin had finished his glass and was already pouring himself another, not even asking before adding some whiskey to yours. “I’m not very popular, as I’m sure you’ve noticed if you did go.” Suddenly, he frowned, looking at you inquisitively. “You didn’t go alone, did you?”
“I was with Mr. Seonghwa and Ha-ri.” You thought about Kim Taehyung’s condescending attitude, letting Hyunjin drink a few more sips of liquor before breaking the news to him. “I bought a few tables for myself—the apiary—and for Ha-ri’s sewing, too.”
“No problem at all, I will settle the bills at the end of the month.” Hyunjin was still enthralled by the whiskey and the scene was almost endearing. He was now studying the label on the bottle, often returning to a sip or to smell it.
“I paid with my own money.” You put your glass back on the table. Hyunjin looked away from the bottle, his frown returning. “That’s not the point I was trying to make. I bought the tables at the Jeons’ shop.”
You often saw a passing darkness clouding Hyunjin’s eyes, turning them from molasses on pound cake to ink stains on fancy paper. One wasn’t more beautiful than the other, but one made you worry. You reached for him across the table, putting your hand on his forearm. He flinched, but you squeezed him a little tighter. Gently.
You didn’t let him lie to you. You didn’t want him to have to lie to you. “I had been warned beforehand of the… delicate situation between you and Lord Jungkook. And his mother, too.” Hyunjin shot a frightened stare at you. “I decided not to entertain a rivalry between your late father and Lord Jeon’s also very dead father.”
Hyunjin gulped, eyeing his glass, but remaining still. “Was he there?” he asked, his voice so low that you could barely make out the words. “Jungkook?”
“No, he wasn’t.” You let go of Hyunjin, and he reached for his glass. “His business partner made the transaction with us.”
“That Kim guy?”
“Yes.” You paused, hesitating. “What an arrogant prick.”
This stunned Hyunjin. You watched the clouds lift from his eyes, much like the strong winds clearing the skies after a storm. He had difficulty swallowing the whiskey while he suppressed his laughter.
“I couldn’t have said it better.” A smile looked good on him. Like it belonged there. “I hope you didn’t let him talk down on you.”
“I sure as fuck didn’t, Hyunjin. I don’t think I helped your cause. I don’t think I made you any more popular, not at all.” At this, the both of you laughed together, putting your hands over your mouths to cover the noise.
You drank a little while recovering your breath. This is all you wanted. All your life you had known that you would become Lady Hwang—you hadn’t known it would turn out like this. You hadn’t known that Hyunjin would rather be burned alive than consummate the marriage. You hadn’t known that doubt would be at the back of your mind, day and night, as you wondered what you needed to do to make him love you. You had been foolish, but could you forgive yourself for that?
But this—tonight—wasn’t bad. Expensive whiskey and a chat with your husband.
“I don’t care that they hate me,” Hyunjin said after a while. “It’s not like I ever see them anyway.”
You bit your lip with a sigh. “About that…” Concern grew within you, tugging at your heart. You emptied your glass in one go, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Lord Jeon sent us an invitation for a dinner he is hosting, and I already accepted.”
“You did what?”
You had never been afraid of the dark, whether it was in your bedroom, under your bed, in a closet, or in Hyunjin’s eyes. But what about when his gaze turned to fire? You recoiled, pressing your back against your chair. For a moment, you thought Hyunjin would lash at you, but not like a predator—like a wounded animal, desperate, fighting for survival, knowing its demise was inevitable.
Hyunjin’s voice was trembling, but you couldn’t tell whether it was with fear or rage. Maybe, most likely, it was with an ugly mix of both. “When did we receive this letter? And why did you take it upon yourself to accept the invitation without consulting me?”
You held his gaze. You weren’t used to the scene unfolding in front of you. You had heard men raise their voices for much less than this. You had heard men become upset for petty reasons, but you had never, ever seen so much alarm in one before—certainly not for something as insignificant as a response to a letter.
And yet, all that you could see in Hyunjin was terror.
“Your father hated his and they had a rivalry,” you responded. “It doesn’t mean you have to hate him.”
Hyunjin hit the table with his fist—your glass clinked loudly against the bottle, but you didn’t jump. Not on the outside anyway. You expected him to scold you, to rebuke you, you expected him to strike you. Most men would have.
Yet when he spoke, his voice was slow, faint, like his throat was strained. “It’s not about hate. It was never about hate, darling.”
Most men would not hesitate to strike their wives if they infringed such obvious rules, but Hyunjin didn’t need to. All he had to do was let that word dance on his lips, offering it to you like a dagger to the heart.
You pushed yourself up, pacing on the balcony for a few seconds. Hyunjin’s obstinate stoicism didn’t help. Maybe you had wanted him to fight back, to punish you somehow. Maybe you had wanted a reaction out of him, any reaction, no matter the nature of it. Maybe you wanted him to touch you, even if it meant hurting you with a wrath bigger than himself.
His glass was empty and Hyunjin drank from the bottle instead of filling it again.
“I’m going to bed,” was all he said, and he left with the whiskey.
You stared at the chair he had just vacated, your mind as blank as your heart. You tried enumerating all the reasons why you had decided Hyunjin and you should attend this dinner. You had good reasons and they came from a good place, but you understood why he was hurt.
And of course, you should have consulted him before, but doing so would have resulted in his immediate refusal anyway. He always locked himself away, even when he paced the garden, when he was working, when he was talking to you. He locked his heart away, making sure that nothing could ever reach it.
But at what cost?
And now he was going to stay enraged and lock himself in his bedroom and—
You remembered what was waiting for him in his room. The gift you had gotten him—the actual gift, as if a simple bottle of whiskey could ever repay the gesture behind him buying that apiary for you.
You went after him, bolting out of your room to see if he was still in the hallway, but you didn’t even hear his footsteps. You ran after him, only to find him standing in the frame of his door, bottle of whiskey still in hand, but frozen in place.
“Hyunjin…” You looked past him, inside his room. Seonghwa had left the gift exactly where you had asked him to.
An easel made of copper and imported rosewood. With sketching paper and canvases and paints and brushes and pencils, too.
Hyunjin’s father had never let him draw. There was so much darkness that came from the things his father had done—and the things he did not let Hyunjin be. But it didn’t have to stay this way.
“The whiskey was only part of the gift…” Your voice was small, foreign. You realized you were shy, even embarrassed. Now that you were facing it, you could tell how desperate you looked—how desperate you were. Desperate for him. For anything from him.
When Hyunjin turned to you, his eyes were wet. No tear rolled down his chiseled face, as though the abysses of his eyes were deep enough to hold them in, and maybe they were.
“I apologize,” you uttered, approaching him warily. “I’m sorry about Lord Jeon, and the dinner.” You meant it. You hoped he could see that. “I know you’ve been cultivating all those malignant thoughts inside you, and I fear… I fear they will fester, perhaps, some day. That they will take over your heart. I wanted to help you. I wanted to offer you a chance at something else… anything else.”
He turned back, facing the easel again. Seonghwa had left it in the bedroom but not far from the door leading to Hyunjin’s study, right by the window. During the day, he would have plenty of light to paint or draw.
But Hyunjin did not speak.
“I shouldn’t have done this,” you went on, following him into the room as he went in, but still keeping some distance between you two. “In fact, I will draft another letter to the Jeon family right this instant—I’ll explain that I became very ill, that we won’t be able to make it to the dinner.”
It seemed Hyunjin wasn’t listening to you. He left the whiskey bottle by the small table and reached for the easel, caressing the rosewood as gently as if he had been touching a newborn baby, or perhaps the delicate blossoms of a cherry tree. You could hear his breathing, steady but louder than usual. He felt the bristles of the paint brushes, one by one. He studied the paints too, each color, and looked at the tin box containing the perfectly sharpened pencils. They glide like butter, Bill had told you at the crafts store. He had helped you select the absolute best supplies, sparing no expense to make sure Hyunjin could experience art at least once.
It had been taken away from him at such a young age. Too early to be refusing such simple things to a child, whether it was a piece of chocolate, some pencils and paper, or the right to climb a tree. And maybe this was what had made him the way he was, much more than the number of affairs his father had.
Hyunjin’s voice was barely audible. Small, uncertain. “Is this all for me?” Like he couldn’t believe it. Like he didn’t want to believe it.
“Of course it is, Hyunjin.” You took yet another step toward him, and another, until you were close enough to smell him. “You don’t have to like it. If you don’t want any of it, I’m sure we can bring them to Ha-ri’s little girls, they—”
One second, you were standing behind Hyunjin, facing his back as he studied the items before him. The next, he swirled around and pulled you against him. Your body so close to his. Your body belonged in his embrace, it felt like. He closed his arms around you, enveloping you comfortably, squeezing you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm and it smelled like whiskey.
You wanted to ask him to please kiss you again. You wanted to ask him if he had fucked any pregnant women during his trip.
Hyunjin squeezed you tighter. “I love it.” His voice wouldn’t sound any different if he had been crying. “I want it. I want all of it. I want…” But the rest of his sentence trailed off, and you didn’t push it. Your husband kept you in his arms for a long time and you stayed right there, with your face against his chest, listening to his heart. It was slowing down gently.
Hyunjin didn’t let you see his face as he pulled away and you respected that boundary, instead decided to pick up the whiskey bottle to go and pour two glasses of it. As you busied yourself, you listened to noises in your back—Hyunjin discovering his gifts, his soft breathing, his sharp inhales.
You wondered what your life would have been like if you hadn’t been allowed to raise bees and become a beekeeper. How bitter would that have made you?
When you returned to the study, you found Hyunjin carefully placing a canvas on the easel and adjusting it. “I’ll try some of the paint,” he explained, and it was as if he hadn’t been upset at all just moments ago. “I’ve never actually done this before…”
“Then you should try watercolors,” you advised, pulling the tubes from the pile of paint. “Bill said they’re easier than oil.”
“I’ll just do colors,” Hyunjin went on with an enthusiasm you had never seen in him.
He really did just do colors, and you watched him do so. You watched as Hyunjin carefully mixed the colors, making different shades of blue or orange or red before he applied them on the canvas, blending them with a sponge or with a clean brush. Sometimes, he would stop for a few moments and just stare before returning to his paint, mixing new colors and starting over. The glass of whiskey remained by his side, forgotten.
You watched him paint, you watched the way he held the brushes—awkwardly at first, then, with more confidence. He wouldn’t speak, but sometimes he muttered a few words to himself. You didn’t speak either, you just sat on his bed, watching your husband be himself for, maybe, the first time in his life. Soon enough, three, then four canvases were laid around the room to dry, saturated in bold colors. Gradients and blotches and shapes. Colors. You wondered if, perhaps, Hyunjin was trying to show you the colors of his heart. You wondered if perhaps he was just trying to figure out what exactly were the colors of his heart.
You fought it when you became sleepy, lulled by the whiskey and the newfound comfort of this strange intimacy. Hyunjin and you, in the same room, not speaking a word and yet undeniably… together. As normal people.
You fought sleep until you no longer could. By then, most of the candles had burnt out in the room. But this is what you saw as you fell asleep in Hyunjin’s bed—him, in front of his easel, the light from a wall lamp dancing over him and the art he had wanted to make all his life.
That night, you fell asleep as Lady Hwang. When you woke up the next morning, your husband was laying next to you, on his side, with his back facing you. The room was filled with the soft morning light. Hyunjin was there—close, so close, so warm. He smelled good even though the scent of last night’s whiskey lingered on both of you. You touched his silky soft hair, felt the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips.
Every day, you woke up as the one and only thing you had been allowed to be—you woke up as Lady Hwang.
But today, you woke up as the girl who had fallen in love with Hyunjin through his letters, his delicate cursive, his thoughtful gifts, his words, his thoughts, with the unfiltered version of himself he could be with you. Today, you woke up happy.
Few people would care about this, so you had never told anybody before, but one of your favorite things about beehives was the smell of them. This unique scent that you couldn’t get anywhere else, that, truthfully, couldn’t be compared. A beehive smelled like honey left out in the sun, like melted wax with wood undertones. As you moved the bees and reached deeper within the hive, though, you could also get traces of musk and balm and something overly sweet, like rotting fruit.
And you loved it.
You worked with your bees every day, making sure that they were healthy, making sure that their surroundings were clean and filled with pollen-bearing flowers and plants. You had filled the nearby soil with flowers of all kinds—goldenrod, lavender, primrose, a couple of raspberry bushes and some wild rose bushes as well, along with the usual sage and rosemary. With this, you were certain that your wildflower honey would be full of flavor and as sweet as it could be. You should look into planting a few orange trees for the years to come—their blossoms would round up the honey’s taste.
You loved the smell of a hive and the feeling of the bees buzzing all around you as you worked to harvest the honey and clean the nest. You felt at peace here, like this little corner of the estate was yours and yours only. Like you belonged here, in this place, in that very moment.
The sky was blue and the air was warm already, hinting at yet another hot summer day. Life at the Hwang Estate was not bad at all. You may be yearning for a kiss from your husband, or hoping he drank enough whiskey at night and called you darling, but you had everything else. Ha-ri and her daughters and Changbin, who seemed to shine in his new position on the council.
You had your bees, and you also had Hyunjin’s paintings. “I’ve never done this before,” he would say after showing you his most recent creations. He used to blend colors on canvases at first but he was a bit more adventurous now, drawing more complex shapes and adding light and shade, too. For his very first ‘portrait’, Hyunjin had chosen Cloud as his model.
I’ve never done this before, he said once again when he handed you the painting. It was smaller than the others and he had it framed. A proper gift. You hugged him and he hugged you back that time, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Sometimes at night, when your hand trailed between your legs, you still thought about that moment, and all the other moments. You also thought about all the moments that had never occurred. You often thought about his cock and how it had felt in your hand. Often, also, you dreamt about Hyunjin making love to you.
You almost dropped the large jar that contained today’s honey, startling a few bees and causing them to fly away. You sighed, making sure that none of them had been hurt in the process, and gathered the jar from the ground. Some honey had spilled onto the grass, leaving a puddle. You didn’t like wasting honey, but you decided that perhaps some time later a little creature could use it, especially in this heat.
You heard footsteps to your left and, expecting Ha-ri, spun on your heels to greet her. But it wasn’t Ha-ri, and it also wasn’t Seonghwa or Hyunjin, who, sometimes, liked to sit under the shade of a tree and sketch while you worked with the bees.
“I thought I’d find you here, my lady.”
Lee Minho—the estate’s new doctor. He had been acclimating to his new home easily and he was well-liked among the staff. He was soft-spoken and intelligent, and Hyunjin particularly enjoyed sharing a drink with him and Changbin after work. He was a good addition to this home, you thought. He was friendly and yet, he seemed vigilant, always keeping his guard up. In that way, he reminded you of a cat. For good reason, perhaps, as he seemed particularly fond of Cloud—and Cloud of him.
“Doctor,” you said with a smile, still surprised to see him here this morning. Minho spent several days of the week treating patients in the two clinics in town. “What a splendid day, isn’t it?” You had found over time that making small talk helped ease your nervousness around people, making you seem confident.
“Indeed,” Minho responded with that enigmatic smile of his. He was an attractive man with a lot of kindness under the mysterious veil that he kept around him. He pushed his elegant dark hair from over the round glasses on his nose. “Wow, my lady—that is a good harvest you have there!”
You accepted the compliment with a bashful smile—yet another thing your mother had taught you. “Thank you, Dr. Minho. Would you like to have a taste?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say no to that offer.” Minho made his way to you, a little wary of the bees but eagerly grabbing one of the spoons you had brought with you to test your product. He dipped it in the jar, not wasting a second before he ate his spoonful. “Oh, good god, wow…” Minho, however, took his time to savor it, so you gave him the required space.
Instead, you busied yourself with closing the beehive back, ready to let the hive be for the day. You had gathered a lot of honey and, for the first time with this colony, harvested a small amount of honeycomb. And you knew exactly what you wanted to do with it.
“Thank you my lady,” Minho spoke respectfully, dipping his head. “I was told of your delicious honey, but it’s one thing to taste it on a cake and another to have it just like that.”
You shook your head distractedly, now finished with the hive. The honey was in a jar, and the honeycombs in a large pot. You put everything back on the tray, along with the used spoons and your gloves, but left everything on the table.
You knew that Minho’s unprompted visit to your beehive had a purpose. Yes, he was a nice, pleasant man, but above all else, he was a doctor. Your doctor more specifically.
“Your lord husband will surely have a good hunt today, with that spectacular weather,” Minho went on. “I heard he and Changbin left before sunrise.”
You took a deep breath, readying yourself to face Minho’s inquisitive eyes. When you turned to him, you found him shielding his eyes from the sun, licking the remaining honey off his lips. You liked him. Minho. You knew very little about him—you knew that he had a good reputation. You knew that he liked to go fishing and that he always shared some fish with Cloud when he returned. You also knew that he used to work for the Jeons and that he left of his own volition.
“I know why you’re here, Mr. Lee.” You spoke with your voice low but enunciated every word very clearly, so that he, and only he, could hear you. All around the estate, life went on—windows were open, people walked around, busy at work. “I wish our maids had been more… discreet.”
Minho let his arm fall to the side of his body after adjusting his glasses, offering you an apologetic smile. “Don’t hold it against them, my lady—they only worried for your well-being and came to me immediately.”
A surge of rage enveloped you—but the rage wasn’t alone, there was sadness woven into it, despair, and shame, too. “I fail to see what is so worrying about blood stains on bed sheets, doctor. Women bleed once a month, after all—a doctor ought to know this.”
Minho let the sentence hit him and he took it gracefully. If he were angry, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he leaned against the table, never looking away from you.
This morning you had woken up in Hyunjin’s bed—something that occurred more and more often. Not because your husband had decided he wanted to consummate your marriage, no, but because he seemed to enjoy your company more. He liked to paint a lot, but especially in your presence. Sometimes, he’d say, “join me, will you?” and you would. You didn’t really know how to paint but you’d grab a brush and add a few strokes here and there. The more Hyunjin painted, the better at it he became.
The more Hyunjin painted, the more you loved him.
So you liked to be there as much as you could, to take in the sight of him standing in front of a canvas, brows stitched together as he tried to execute his ideas as well as he could. These days, the rooms would remain warm even after sunset, and Hyunjin often painted in just a thin white shirt and light trousers. He was handsome, and peace looked good on him. You knew that this could only be temporary—you knew that Hwang Hyunjin, the one they called the Orphan, the one they said was cruel, would not allow something as ordinary as painting to make him happy.
Still.
You often fell asleep in his bed because you liked being close to him and the sheets smelled like him. Sometimes, you would wake up so close to him that it was almost as if he loved you back.
This morning, though, the bed had been empty—you knew it would be so because Hyunjin had warned you about today’s hunting trip, and how important it was to him. The dinner at the Jeons was in a few days from now and Hyunjin intended on bringing some game as a part of the gift he would offer to your hosts. You’d of course part with a jar of your precious honey and with some seeds for a garden.
You hadn’t however foreseen your body reminding you that Hyunjin refused to put a baby in you and had woken up in a small puddle of your own blood. In fact, your bleeds had been late, which you had blamed on the stress of moving into a new home, so you weren’t especially surprised. You had taken the sheets off the mattress and had gone to wash them yourself, but the maids had come in and offered their help.
Minho took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. “I heard there was a lot of blood, my lady.”
Ashamed, you turned away, pretending to adjust the contents of the tray. The honey shone under the bright sun, amber, beautiful. “I assure you I am completely healthy, sir,” you managed, clearing your throat. “This is not an abnormal occurrence for me.”
When you looked at Minho again, he was nodding slowly. “You’re tense,” he pointed out. “My lady, let me reassure you—you have nothing to fear from me. I’ve been forbidden by your husband to perform certain… physical examinations on you, unless he gives his consent before, and unless he is present at the time of the examinations.”
This, you also knew—when Dr. Lee had been welcomed to the estate, Hyunjin had assured you that he was a better man than Yun had been, and that he would make sure nobody ever touched you. That nobody found out about your secret, too.
“I am aware,” you retorted, doing your best to remain calm.
Minho barely let you finish your sentence. “I know about the teas you drink, I’ve seen what you put in them. I know they’re not to settle your headaches or upset stomach. I know what boiled thistle does, I know what ginger root and rue oil do. I know why fertile women take those. So, as your doctor, let me ask you—how much blood was there, and are you in pain?”
Once, your mother had caught you stealing cake from the kitchen. You had been fourteen years old at the time and it had been your birthday cake, which you had been forbidden from eating. You had felt so ashamed. Because it had been your mother finding you eating cake, and because she had made sure that everybody in the villa heard her as she scolded you, calling you weak and stupid, calling you worse things even.
Today, under the unyielding sun, standing in front of Minho, you felt just about the same.
You gulped, feeling the familiar and unwanted prick of tears at the corner of your eyes. “I just—I just want—”
“I know what you want and I’m not judging you for it, my lady.” Minho took a step closer to you, but it was to study you. He silently asked for permission to touch you, which you granted with a stiff nod, and he pressed his hands at specific areas of your neck and under your arms. “In fact, your secret is safe with me. The reason you can trust me is because I will also give you a secret of mine in exchange—it was actually the reason I came to visit you in the first place.”
You looked into Minho’s eyes and saw nothing but honesty, except perhaps a few drops of concern.
You knew about some herbs and their uses—you had heard some of it from Sookie and the rest of the information had been absorbed in your many years of eavesdropping all around your family home. Your older sisters, your mother, your cousins. The maids, especially those who really liked boys. So it only felt natural to try and make some of that tea that supposedly stopped a woman’s fertility.
“Well it didn’t work,” you said ultimately with a sigh, deciding that Minho was trustworthy. “I lied earlier. There was more blood than usual.”
Minho nodded, pulling away from you. “Your blood vessels seem alright. However, for the time being, I suggest you stop consuming the teas, my lady. They are not as efficient as you believe. Nothing can fully prevent pregnancy.”
You swallowed your tears and your pride back, averting your eyes, feeling more and more like a little girl being scolded by her mother, despite Minho’s gentle voice. “It doesn’t hurt though, doctor. It did this morning, but not anymore.”
“Then you will be alright,” Minho assured. “But… should you have been pregnant, this could have been a miscarriage—a bad one at that. Please keep that in mind, my lady.”
“No more teas,” you offered as a promise, your voice weak and small.
“I don’t like that you will be away and that I won’t be able to check up on you tomorrow,” Minho admitted. “I don’t know who Lord Jeon hired to replace me, but whoever it is, do not hesitate to seek help if you feel sudden cramps, or if you bleed too much, my lady. Understood?”
“Understood.” You played nervously with the fabric of your sleeves. “Thank you, doctor. And, huh—please—”
Minho chuckled, waving his hand. “I will certainly not tell Lord Hwang about this. I meant it—a secret for a secret.” With this, Minho produced an envelope from his pocket. “I am kindly asking you if you could give this letter—secretly—to somebody at the Jeons’.”
You took the envelope in your hand, seeing no problem in executing that task. “Of course, doctor.” There was a name on the envelope. “Su-jin?”
“I couldn’t give him proper goodbyes,” Minho explained, his voice suddenly strangled, shoulders tensed. “Although it isn’t enough, I hope this… I hope this can be something like that. A goodbye.”
You nodded slowly, carefully hiding the envelope under the pot on the tray. “Was he a close friend, sir?”
Something in Minho’s eyes revealed plenty about this small envelope and its precious contents. “He and I were very close. Too close,” Minho explained. “Some people… took advantage of that. It ended badly. I chose to leave so that Su-jin could be free and happy.”
Minho had said he and I were very close but you heard the truth laced in between his words. You felt love in his voice. Love, and pain, too. Not that the former could ever exist without the latter, though.
“I see.” You pressed your hand on your chest. “I promise I will deliver this letter discreetly and quietly. I won’t even tell Hyunjin about this.”
“I appreciate it.” Minho smiled at you and, without asking, took the tray from you. “Let me at least bring this inside for you.” He obviously wanted to change the subject so you allowed it. “I must admit, my lady, that I took the liberty to ask the chef if he could prepare red meat and some green vegetables for you. To prevent anemia. But I just said you were craving them.”
“Oh.” You covered your mouth, giggling. “Thank you, sir.” You followed Minho as he took the tray and walked around the manor, circling it to make it back to the front door. The air smelled like flowers and like freshly cut grass. “Did they say… anything else? The maids, I mean. Those who saw the blood on the sheets.”
Minho was walking slowly, much slower than you had seen him before—definitely because he didn’t want to exhaust you. You felt fine, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “Yes, but not to me. I heard them speculate over how soon you would be with child.”
A dagger to the heart would have been quicker and painless compared to this. You did not like the taste of shame on your tongue. “I see. Thank you for your honesty.”
“My lady, if you truly do not want to become pregnant—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, doctor. Thank you. The teas were a mistake—perhaps I drank too much of it, too often. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll handle the rest.” It would be very easy to handle as you would never become pregnant.
You had hoped—foolishly—that if you managed to stop your monthly bleeds, Hyunjin would find you desirable the way he found pregnant women desirable. At this point, you were desperate enough that you thought a simple kiss would be enough to set you on fire. You had thought it was hard when he was cold and distant with you but it had turned out to be the opposite—spending so much time with him only made you yearn for him more. Some days, you found yourself inhaling your own hair—the scent of Hyunjin’s bed lingered on it.
“I apologize for this, my lady. I understand.” But you had made it to the front door, so Minho naturally switched the topic of conversation to the beehive and how he couldn’t believe how much honey you had gotten that morning.
He left you by the kitchen, thanking you again for the envelope you had taken from him—you took this so seriously that you immediately went upstairs to your room to hide it under your pillow. Feeling the paper on your fingertips made you nostalgic.
For years—your whole life up until just a few months ago—you only had that to keep you going. Letters. One every year, no more. You still had them, keeping them in a small wooden box. Hyunjin would write about everything, about nothing. For all these years, you had wondered this: how could he feel so close to your heart, yet so far away? And for all these years, you had believed this would be resolved by you finally becoming his wife and moving under his roof. Naturally, you had been wrong. You had been wrong about so many things.
The morning of the dinner at Lord Jeon’s, Seonghwa came to wake you instead of Ahnjong. You found it strange but appreciated the steward’s gentle voice. That morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang, but you felt empty.
“Where’s Ahnjong?” you asked, wishing with all of your soul that you could stay in bed all day. You were tired. “Is she alright?”
“She’s with Ha-ri, my lady,” Seonghwa explained. “They’re packing a few evening gowns for you. Lord Hwang is already up—would you like to have a bath before leaving?”
“Ah, the gowns. Of course.” You smiled fondly into your pillow. “Yes, Seonghwa. I’ll have a bath.”
“Would you like to use the tub in Lord Hwang’s room? I know you prefer it. Lord Hyunjin is downstairs with Mr. Changbin, finishing up some things for work. The room is all yours.”
You accepted Seonghwa’s offer as it was a quite widely known fact that Hyunjin’s bathroom was far better than yours. He bowed swiftly and left the room to prepare your bath and you were happy to find your bed sheets had absolutely no blood on them. The ache in your lower abdomen had completely disappeared too. This was, by far, the worst menstruation you had ever experienced. As if the burden of being a woman in itself wasn’t enough…
You wrapped yourself in your favorite robe and exited your room. From the hallway, you could hear voices downstairs—mostly Hyunjin and Changbin though, apparently giving directions for the factory while they would be away since Changbin would make the trip with you and Hyunjin.
Seonghwa had left a maid to take care of your bath. You recognized one of the young girls who had seen your blood on the sheets the other day but did your best to remain kind and friendly to her. Someday, when you’d have more time, you would teach her about the hardships of a woman, and how she might want to consider facing certain situations in the future. She was young and you didn’t hold it against her. If anything, you envied her. You missed the times when you were ignorant. You hadn’t been allowed to be that for very long, though.
Still, you asked her to leave you alone for the bath. You’d be able to wash your hair on your own and you preferred to soak in the warm water for a long time. The room smelled like Hyunjin, like his cologne, and was still steamy from his own bath. You tried not to think about that too much, about his lean body submerged in water, about his dark hair floating around his porcelain face, about his hand between his legs…
You splashed water on your face and scrubbed yourself clean, still sleepy. You would need strong tea to keep you awake, but you figured you might be able to nap quickly on the way to the Jeons’.
You had rinsed out your hair and were applying oils into it to make it shine when you heard footsteps outside the bathroom. “Seonghwa? Anhjong?”
The footsteps froze. “It’s me.” Hyunjin. “I came to shave and get dressed—I’ll—I’ll come back later,” he added, stammering. Hyunjin seemed to dislike the idea of you naked, almost as if his cock could escape his pants and accidentally fall into your cunt, impregnating you on the spot.
“Don’t, I’m done here, I’ll be out in a second.” This was his room after all.
“We’re leaving in about an hour,” Hyunjin said from the other side of the door. “Are you… feeling alright?”
You left the bathtub as the water was turning lukewarm rather quickly, beginning to dry your skin with the linen sheets provided by the maids. They smelled like the same rose water they soaked your clothes into after washing them. “I’m alright, Hyunjin.” You were suspecting that despite Minho’s absolute silence over it, Hyunjin had heard bits and pieces about the blood on the sheets. If you did trust the doctor, you didn’t always trust the maids to stay quiet. “Just need a minute here.”
“Take your time…” Hyunjin said, but he didn’t quite finish his sentence, letting it trail off instead.
You did your best to wring your hair dry but that was usually something you let the maids do, as your mother had always taught you. Be delicate with your hair, she’d always say. She had been terrified that you’d damage it, especially when you spent time outside in the winter. But you had always liked winter and its eerie silence.
Once you were as dry as you could get in the span of a few minutes, you quickly put on the loose, cream-colored gown that had been left for you. You hadn’t expected company so there wasn’t much here to cover you, however there were a couple of Hyunjin’s shirts hung on the wall, and you picked the blue one.
Your husband was facing the window when you exited the bathroom, his hands behind his back as he stared outside. The view from here wasn’t as nice as the one in your room, but one could see part of the garden here, and the lush pine forest around the estate.
Hyunjin didn’t turn when he heard you. “How was your bath?” he asked. Without letting you answer his question, he went on, “Don’t worry. I’ll have the tub and plumbing of your bedroom upgraded as soon as we’re back from our trip.”
Words could sometimes appear kind in appearance and yet they felt like blades. This was one of those times. “I did not think it bothered you that I used your tub, Hyunjin. I wish you'd told me.”
He did turn to you then, concern written all over his handsome face. “No! No—I just—I should—” He sighed, exhaling a long, tired breath. “I simply meant that I should have provided you with better installations already.”
You gulped, swallowing your pride at the same time. “I like your lavatory,” you admitted, taking a few steps toward him. He stood tall next to the window, his gaze following you, his gaze working very hard not to dip anywhere below your neck. You weren’t wearing anything besides that linen and his shirt, and he must have noticed. “I like your bedroom, too. It doesn’t mean I don’t like mine.” You hesitated, almost reaching for his face to feel the light stubble around his mouth. “I like your company as well, Hyunjin.”
He flinched, turning away, not even pretending to busy himself with something else, simply walking away from you. “I like your company too,” he managed from the other side of the room. Then, tentatively, he repeated, “We’re leaving in about an hour.”
“It takes me twenty minutes to get dressed,” you said. You wanted to smile but the muscles in your face were frozen. All your life you had known that you would become Lady Hwang, but you had been wrong about what it would cost you. You had never imagined that he would turn you into such a desperate, touch-starved fool. “Let me help you get ready, will you?”
Hyunjin glanced at the still unpacked clothes, neatly folded on his dresser. Normally, you left today for the Jeons’ and would return early tomorrow morning after spending the night in a hotel, since Lord Jungkook lived near the city and Hyunjin adamantly refused to sleep in his mansion. Still, to be safe, you would pack enough essentials for a couple of days should the weather leave you stranded away from home.
“I’d like that very much, thank you,” Hyunjin admitted, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I’ll just be… over here.” He motioned toward the bathroom you had just left.
It really only took you a couple of minutes to put everything in Hyunjin’s travel bag—pants and underpants and shirts, but you felt like something was missing. Making sure he wasn’t paying too much attention to you, you decided to take a look in his drawer, as you wanted to see if that was where he kept his hair comb—you hadn’t seen it in the bathroom earlier. You did see the comb but you also noticed something else.
Sheets of paper, envelopes. Some blank, some had words on them. Some had Hyunjin’s handwriting scribbled all over them.
Some had yours.
You gasped, recognizing the letters you had sent him over the years. All of them, seemingly. The older ones were damaged and your handwriting was messy, childish. And yet you saw yourself writing them, sitting at a desk too big for you, putting so much effort in every single word so that Hyunjin thought your handwriting was neat. You would write drafts upon drafts of the same letter, practicing diligently until everything was perfect.
For some reason, you hadn’t imagined that Hyunjin kept those. It didn’t feel quite real despite holding them in your hands and feeling the smooth paper under your touch. You skimmed through a few of them, only catching bits and pieces of each.
My sister came to pester me today, Hyunjin. I was just working at my apiary and she must have been bored. She made fun of me… I do not hate her. I do not resent her. I know she is impressionable, friable, and I know her mind has been poisoned by my mother. Today, she called my apiary stupid, and other worse things. I asked her to leave and she did not. I tried not to listen to her but I wanted to cry. Do you think crying is an act of weakness? I cried once during a big, big dinner. There were so many strangers, Hyunjin, and I was only a little girl. They all looked at me and they would all ask questions to my parents about me… about you, too. You really are famous, do you know that? Anyway… What happened with my sister is that a bee stung her and she accused me of doing it on purpose. She seemed to believe I controlled the bees. As if… Did you know, Hyunjin, that bees die after they sting? I would not want a bee to waste its life on my sister.
-
Hyunjin! I loved the gift you sent me on my birthday. I have never played with marbles before as I was not allowed to. Sometimes, I would sneak out of my dancing lesson and go watch my brother and his friends play, but I could never figure out the rules of the game. Perhaps there are many games and I simply confused them all. But since you sent me marbles, Mother says it’s alright, but I am still not allowed to sit or kneel on the ground as the boys can. I see them come home sometimes, covered in mud and dirt with big smiles. It makes me wish sometimes that I had been born a boy, too. Do you like to play in the mud too, Hyunjin? Do you think that when we grow up and get married, you will teach me how to play the marbles game? Other games?
-
This the second to last letter I will write you, assuming I will no longer need to write you letters once we are husband and wife. In a little over a year, I will travel the long journey to you… I hope you are not too discouraged about it. The reason I am mentioning this is very simple, Hyunjin. We are friends, are we not? So I want you to truly think about it. Should you cancel the marriage, I will not resent you. I know I am not the wife you ought to have been promised, and I know I have my father to blame for this, as he once convinced your father that I would be the best thing to happen to you. You do not need to say anything. You are my friend, Hyunjin, and I only want you to be happy. I lay in bed at night wondering if that is something I will do for you. Make you happy. There are days I wonder what it even means, happiness. I don’t recall the last time I was truly happy, but the closest I get to it is with my bees. What about you, Hyunjin? Are you happy? I hope you are. And I hope that if you choose to marry me, I can at least not make you unhappy. Please, promise me that we will still be friends, married or not.
-
I kept reading the last letter you sent me, do you remember it? In it, you told me so much about fabrics and textiles. From this day I haven’t looked at my dresses the same. I never realized all the work that was put into fabrics. I have been trying to find some knowledge to give back to you, something that you will carry with you the way I carry with me what you told me.
Here is what the beekeeper told me, though. He said that when honey is pure, it will burn. He said that only very pure honey actually burns, and polluted honey melts into nothing, like sugar in tea. He also said this would be a lesson for me later, but I’m not sure what he meant exactly. I tried though. I tried burning honey. It smelled sweet and warm. I poured it on my skin and it burned me but I liked it. Does that mean something, Hyunjin? Do you think that people can be pure, too, or do we all have darkness inside us, making us melt into nothing?
There was a lump in your throat when you decided to stop rummaging through the letters. Reading them all in the wrong order might not have been the best idea either. You realized that you had not kept the drafts of your letters—after the envelope was sealed, you would bring the letters to be burned into the furnace immediately. You knew you ought to do that or else you would drive yourself crazy, reading them over and over, finding reasons for Hyunjin to despise you.
You put the letters back, your vision suddenly blurred by tears. Promise me that we will still be friends, married or not. You wiped your face, finding something else in the drawer. You recognized the delicate ribbon that had adorned your wedding dress. You barely remembered that night and yet you remembered a little too painfully. There had been blood on the sheets that night too, but it had been Hyunjin’s. He had undone this ribbon from your dress so gently that you had almost fallen on your knees. In your life, you hadn’t known a lot of happiness, but you had known Hyunjin’s touch—a little of it, at least—and it would have to be enough.
“Damn it!” You heard Hyunjin’s groan echoing from the lavatory, so you quickly pushed the drawer closed and made sure your face was dry when you went to check on him.
“Is everything alright, Hyunjin?”
He looked at you from the reflection in the mirror. There was a small, red dot on his chin where he had cut himself. “Just a cut,” he said pointlessly. “Don’t worry.”
You knew that, technically, Hyunjin wasn’t used to shaving his own face. It was the sort of thing that Seonghwa would do for him, and yet, today out of all days, Hyunjin had chosen not to call anybody. You were not like your sister—you hadn’t allowed your position or your mother to make you dense, and you read the situation quite quickly. Hyunjin wanted to be with you, and with you alone. He was nervous about tonight, about facing Lord Jeon.
“Let me.” You didn’t wait for an answer and made your way to him, taking the straight razor from his hand. The blade was heavy, sharp, beautiful. The handle was gold-plated and had elegant carvings on it.
Hyunjin stared at you, still through the mirror, puzzled. “But—”
“I’ve learned how to shave a man’s face,” you told him, “and other things, too. Will you please fetch a chair?”
Hyunjin’s lips moved silently as he repeated your words under his breath, looking as if he hadn’t understood you. Still, after a few seconds, he walked away and returned with one of the chairs in his bedroom.
“Sit down, please,” you invited him, cleaning the blade in the shaving mug and preparing the brush and the soap. You retrieved a clean, hot towel and applied it on Hyunjin’s face once he had taken a seat. “You didn’t argue,” you pointed out. “Do you really trust me with this?”
You couldn’t see Hyunjin’s mouth under the towel, but you saw his smile lighting up his eyes. “Are you going to cut my throat?”
“I’ll try not to,” you retorted in the same playful tone. “Don’t move.”
You removed the towel and got to work, but your heart was beating painfully fast in your chest. The last time you had been this close to Hyunjin’s face, he had kissed you. And then he had fucked your hand. He smelled good. He smelled like his cologne and like the shaving soap you were lathering onto his face with the bristle of his brush. His lips were shut tight, but they sometimes quivered when you pressed your fingers on his neck to angle his head to suit your needs.
It became easier after a few seconds when Hyunjin closed his eyes. You watched him then, really taking in the sight of him, the black hair, the cheekbones, the lips. The man that he was and the things he made you feel. The warmth in your chest was the same as the warmth between your legs. You just needed to focus on the shaving part of the moment and not on what you wanted to happen—all that you wanted to do was to straddle Hyunjin and feel him between your thighs. All that you wanted was for him to press his pretty lips against your mouth and kiss you until he bruised you.
But instead, you pressed the blade against his cheek, stretching his smooth skin skillfully. “Ready?” you asked him, making your voice soft.
Hyunjin gave you the smallest of nods, barely moving, humming in approval. “We leave in an hour,” he muttered.
You took a deep breath and, finally, swiped the blade on Hyunjin’s skin. He inhaled as you went, tensing up, but exhaled when you pulled away without having cut his face open. His breath smelled like the lemon and mint water he liked to have in the mornings. He even giggled, his cheeks turning pink under the bubbles. “You’re good,” he complimented. “Good flick of the wrist, steady, smooth.”
“I probably have more practice than you do,” you pointed out, biting your lip to swallow your laughter.
Hyunjin raised an eyebrow but waited until you had repeated the process farther up, shaving the left side of his face first, to respond. “Did your mother make you learn that?” he asked.
“Yes.” You hesitated, looking at the mirror as if it held any answers. But all you saw was you towering over your husband with a blade in your hand, his face so close to yours and yet so far away. “She taught me that good wives shave their husbands and themselves, too. You know. Everywhere.”
Hyunjin frowned, his eyes opening up. He couldn’t move as you had kept on shaving him, now holding him by his chin, pressing the top of his head against your stomach. He stared at you from below, his gaze lingering on your breasts and not shying away from it. You let him. You pretended you weren’t seeing that and focused solely on the shaving. “Don’t look so shocked, my lord. I bet you’ve seen many more pussies than I have, and I can’t be the only woman in this country shaving mine.”
It was physically impossible for Hyunjin to fall down this chair, yet his reaction almost caused it to happen regardless. As if he jerked awake from a bad dream, he straightened up in the chair, giving you half a second to pull the blade away from his face, avoiding cutting him there. In the process, however, his long arm flew by it and he hit the razor with his hand on accident.
He sat straight in the chair, somehow both pale and his cheeks flushed dark. You circled him, bending down to pick up the razor that had fallen by his side. Doing so let you catch a glimpse of his hand—there was a small cut on his thumb where the blade had met his skin.
“Oh—” Quickly, you slammed the razor on the counter and took his hand in yours. A few drops of blood landed on your gown. The flow was continuous despite the small size of the cut. “I’m sorry, I’m—” You squeezed his hand into yours, trying to stop the bleeding.
Hyunjin took a deep breath. And another. He was staring at you, the veil of darkness you had known in him returned to cloud his gaze.
Some people called your husband frightening and you understood why. But you refused to let fear take control over you. His blood was warm and sticky in your palm, reminding you of his seed coating your skin.
When he spoke, it was in a low voice, enunciating every word very slowly. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing what?” You pressed harder onto the cut, afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop the blood from dripping out. Or maybe it was because you liked the feeling of his skin against yours too much. “It was just… humor. Aren’t we friends? Can’t I use the word pussy in front of my husband?”
In that moment, you realized that despite having exchanged letters for all these years with Hyunjin, you didn’t understand him. You understood all the parts of him, though—his fears, his pride, the sadness in his eyes when he looked at the magnolia tree in his garden. You understood his yearning for painting and drawing and why he enjoyed hunting, too. You understood why he was so gentle with Changbin and Ha-ri’s little girls, and why he often asked Lord Christopher for counsel. Hell—it hurt you to think about it, but you understood why Hyunjin kept his heart away from yours. But today, you were realizing that you couldn’t understand the big picture, but that you weren’t to blame. Hyunjin simply would not let you past a certain point. This—whatever this was—was all you’d ever get.
So you did understand that, at least—that you weren’t supposed to try crossing that line.
His silence was deafening. “Hyunjin?” you muttered, releasing your grip on his hand. It fell on his knee, limp, almost as if he were dead, but he was still bleeding, and he was pressing his thighs together.
Instinctively, you brought your hand to your lips, delicately cleaning the blood away with your tongue. You were not afraid nor disgusted by blood, your own or someone else’s, and Hyunjin’s blood tasted like metal, like salt. If this was the only way you could have him, then you would shave him every day in case he got a cut, and keep drinking his blood for the rest of your life.
Hyunjin took a deep breath, obviously trying to stay calm. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, and you watched as his gaze flicked between your face, your lips, your collarbone. In the heat of the moment, the shirt you were wearing over the gown had fallen down a little. “I’m sorry, darling.”
Darling. Your heart raced faster than your brain at that, but you couldn’t keep your thoughts encaged either. He had said it, he had said the word. To you. And he wasn’t even drunk.
You lowered your gaze to check on the cut—it seemed like it had mostly stopped bleeding by now. “Don’t apologize,” you retorted, finding it easier to stare at an injury on your husband than into his molasses eyes, much like you had on your wedding night. How much blood would he spill because of you?
You got up, deciding that you ought to finish shaving him instead of lingering in this lavatory, ashamed and hurt. You restarted the process—the blade, the shaving soap. Hyunjin let his head fall back, allowing you to reprise the shaving.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he whispered, his jaw dancing under the blade as you were shaving him. You liked the sound of that, of the razor gliding over his skin. You liked feeling him close, too. “I know you’re not doing it on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
To this, Hyunjin said nothing. You thought you were used to it, to his silences. Sometimes you would be watching him paint and ask him a question, but he wouldn’t respond right away. Sometimes, you’d get the answer two days later, out of the blue. That yellow in the sunset was a little strange but it reminded me of the marigolds in the garden, so I kept it.
You pressed the razor on his skin, holding his head in place, and scraped the blade across with precision. You had always enjoyed the shaving practices, perhaps more than the dance lessons or mandatory needlework. Maybe because they were also a test of your composure. After all, you had to resist cutting men’s throats open.
“I won’t do it again, Hyunjin, I promise,” you whispered, close to his ear. “Crude humor, I mean.”
He gripped at his pants as if he were afraid to fall down. “No… It was funny. Really, it was. I just…”
At that exact moment, you noticed his tented pants, bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. You felt a chill on your spine, cold at first, and then warm. The warmth spread to your core and between your legs.
But you shaved him.
“It was unexpected, wasn’t it?” you chose to say to at least have the grace of finishing his sentence instead of letting him make a fool of himself. Your voice was a little unsteady and you cleared your throat, ignoring the way Hyunjin’s gaze caressed you. Because you felt it. You felt his eyes on you and they were like kisses. You felt his warmth, for fuck’s sake you even felt his hardening cock from here…
“Unexpected, yes.” Hyunjin cleared his throat too. “Are you almost done?”
You pretended you didn’t see him adjust his cock through his pants. “Almost. Don’t worry, I know we are leaving soon.”
There were so many things you wanted to ask him, right here, right now. Why are you hard, Hyunjin? Is it because of the joke I made? Are you not used to girls making jokes like that? Because we, girls, jest like that all the time when it’s only us. Do you like that? Do you like it when I talk about pussy? Do you wish you were seeing mine? Do you wish I lifted my skirt to show it to you? Is that why your cock is hard, Hyunjin?
But—of course—you said nothing at all.
When you were done shaving him, you rinsed the razor and quickly came with a wet towel to also wipe Hyunjin’s face. He was still there, unmoving in his chair, tense. You could swear you saw his neck pulse to the rhythm of his heart.
“Thank you,” Hyunjin managed. When you went to pull away from him, he didn’t let you—he cupped your face in his big, warm hand. He was sweating a little. When he touched you, you felt it in your cunt. “We have to talk about something, darling. Will you listen to me?”
Darling. You nodded, unable to speak. Hyunjin pulled you even closer—so close that you felt his warm breath on your face.
“I know about the teas you drink. And don’t resent Dr. Lee for that,” he quickly added when you opened your mouth in protest, “I didn’t hear it from him first. It’s a smaller estate than you think, and the maids like to talk.”
“I—I just—” you stammered, face burning with shame.
Hyunjin clicked his tongue softly, his eyes lingering on your lips. “I know why you were drinking them, but please don’t poison yourself on my account. I’m not worth it.”
“But—”
Hyunjin cut you off. “No buts. I don’t like doing this, but do listen to me now—as your husband, I forbid you to drink those teas, or to take any medicine for… that purpose. You will only harm yourself, and I won’t allow that.”
Hyunjin said that and yet, what you heard was: you can kill your womb, shove any poison you want directly into your cunt, I will never fuck you.
He was still staring at your lips, and you at his. You tried pulling away again, not that you didn’t like the proximity, but because you were feeling a tingle between your legs, and you were afraid to start a fire that couldn’t be put out. Hyunjin let go of you, his arm falling to the side. He was slumping on the chair. He seemed more tired than after a long day of meetings and work.
In the life you had imagined, Hyunjin loved you the way you loved him. If he had found himself needing you, he would have fucked you, quickly, efficiently, deep thrusts. Taking you from behind perhaps, slamming you onto him. You used to think about that sometimes, even before you married him. You still thought about it now that you were his wife, but you were older now, and having him so close yet so far was nothing short of torture. You were tired, disappointed, miserable. Entire nights were spent, covered in sweat, rubbing yourself onto pillows or your hands, cumming and thinking of him while you came.
In the life you had imagined, today Hyunjin would push himself up to kiss you, to devour your mouth, leaving your lips swollen. He’d hitch up your skirt to feel your cunt and groan into your mouth at the discovery of wetness there. He would turn you around, pressing your face against the wall, he would pull out his hard cock from his pants and bury himself into you, stretching you. In the life you had imagined, Hyunjin would fuck you against the wall, rutting like an animal, seeking his release, finding solace into your pussy. He’d call you darling, he’d pull your hair, he’d kiss your shoulder. He would fuck you and you would cling to him as he came. Would you feel it? Would you feel his cum filling you? You liked to imagine that you could, somehow.
But this was not the life that you imagined. Hyunjin did none of that, or almost. He did push himself up, and he did pull you against him. He held you like that, close, close enough that you felt his erection pressing on your lower stomach. He wrapped you in his arms and you listened to his heartbeat.
You held Hyunjin tighter, but he used his hand to lift your face up to him, pressing his thumb under your chin.
“My beekeeper,” he whispered, his breath tickling your skin. “You know I only want you to be happy, right? I’ll never let my shame stain you.”
Your throat was tight as tears welled up in your eyes. You scanned his perfect face, touching it, his soft cheek, his soft hair. You drew invisible lines around his plush lips. “I love you, Hyunjin. I’m a fool for this, but I love you, I really do.”
You didn’t think Hyunjin would have looked any different if you had gutted him alive. Lips trembling, he stayed there, holding you, his eyes in yours.
“We leave in about an hour,” was all he said.
He let go of you and you missed his embrace immediately. Hyunjin left the room, neither quickly nor unhurriedly. He left the room as though nothing had happened, as though you hadn’t stuck a dagger into your own chest and cut it open, baring yourself to him by speaking three little words.
What happened next scared you—you waited a few instants and quickly put back the razor and soap in a drawer. You left Hyunjin’s bedroom to get into yours, cleaning yourself up quickly, summoning Ahnjong so that she could help you dress. You made conversation with her as she was lacing your corset. You chose a pretty gown for the road, a comfortable one. Later, you found Cloud in Minho’s office and saluted the doctor after giving your cat a little kiss on the top of her head.
Ha-ri was downstairs to see his husband off, but she did hug you. You got into the carriage first, followed by Changbin, and then Hyunjin came last. Half of his hair was held by a white ribbon. He wore a linen shirt and black trousers. He looked just like he had the first time you had met him. Handsome, more beautiful than a prince or a princess, even. He did not look at you. He spoke to Changbin a little, but then Changbin dozed off.
It scared you because you felt numb. It scared you because you wished you could cry about it, or perhaps even scream. You wished Hyunjin would hold you in his arms. He didn’t have to fuck you if he didn’t want to, but you liked being in his arms.
Was this it? Was that what it meant to become better at being Lady Hwang? To become numb, desensitized, to have cried all of the tears you had to cry?
The trip to Lord Jungkook’s domain took exactly two hours and forty-three minutes—you knew that because you monitored the time on Changbin’s watch. For two hours and forty-three minutes, Hyunjin did not speak to you. The silence was heavy despite Changbin’s attempt at diffusing the situation. But you looked through the small window, watching the scenery change, watching the towns as you passed them. By the time you passed the gates to Jeon Domain, you thought you had it all figured out.
Some people, you figured, had holes in them, and Hyunjin was like that. It wasn’t even his fault. His light leaked from him, and you were no better than a moth. It also meant that no matter how much love you would pour into him, it would leak, too. In the end, Hyunjin would be empty, and so would you.
But what scared you even more than being numb was how, due to being nervous, you almost tripped as you climbed down the carriage. There was a rather large amount of people to welcome you, all waiting by the large entrance doors. The Jeons’ mansion was huge and very high, and it made you dizzy to look at it and its dark bricks as you exited the carriage.
But Hyunjin caught you just in time as a man who could only be Lord Jungkook approached you. You didn’t even notice him. Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you. You wished you were numb to that, too. You wished that your heart didn’t jump for the shipwreck that your husband was. “I got you,” he said, in your ear, just for you. “Hold on to me. You’re okay, darling.”
Some people, you figured, had holes in them, but you weren’t like that. In fact, it was quite the opposite—there was love piling up endlessly within you, filling every corner of your soul. It had nowhere to go. It just stayed there. Some day, you would crumble under the weight of it. And that, maybe, scared you more than anything else. It was then and only then that you understood what the old beekeeper had tried telling you all those years ago, because you could feel your pure heart as it burned, burned, burned.
... to be continued.
a/n: WOAH.... long time no see for Lord Hwang, right? I'm sorry about the terrible wc and lack of general action in this chapter. I had everything planned but I simply could not write it in less words than this, trust me, I tried. I was so excited to bring you all to Lord Jungkook's home!! So so sorry about this. Thank you for your patience, for waiting for this update, for your support. It means a lot to me, truly.
permanent taglist: @cb97percent @changbinluvr @neosracha @hwan-g @streetlight-s @j-0ne25 @leedunno @aimeexx @hyunskizz @lotus-dly @thestarseeker @suhomylife @abiaswreck @chanlovesme @skzho @binstitsweat @hyunjinswifeee @straydhampir @fwess @skizzel-reblogs @katsukis1wife @chans1aptop @sunlitwilderness @erispancakes @skzfelixlove @hyunsungbased @revehosh @casualtaelyn @yourhwngness @hynjnskz @hyuneyeon
Most Beautiful Self - Queer Eye + BoRhap cross over x reader
Okay, So I started watching Queer Eye, and I am so in love with it! I came up with this idea of a story where the Fab Five help the Reader.
Summary: [Y/N] [L/N] is the God Daughter of Brian May and the fiancé of Ben Hardy. She is nominated by her God Father and Fiancé because the reader has confidence issues, especially being with a celebrity. It is up to the Fab Five to help Reader gain the confidence she needs before Ben and [Y/N]’s wedding at the end of the week.
~~~~~~~~
Please do not repost anywhere without my permission!
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//I will be doing the pictures of the different people for like, the “interview” part if that makes sense.//
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“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Johnathan Van Ness
shouted excitedly as he held the tablet in the passenger seat of the Fab Five truck.
“Okay, who are we doing this week?” Karamo Brown
asked from the diver seat next to his friend.
“Today, we are doing a heroine.” Johnathan said.
“Ooh! I love it when we work with a lady.” Tan France
said from the back seat.
“Okay, so, we are working with a woman named [Y/n] May, and she was nominated by her God Father and Fiancé, soon to be husband.” Johnathan said.
~~~~~
My name is [Y/n] May and I am [Y/A] (Your Age) years old.
[Y/n] smiled as she walked into the kitchen and kissed her Fiancé on the cheek.
“Morning baby.” She greeted him. Ben Hardy smiled and kissed her head as he turned the bacon in the pan on the other side.
“Morning love.” Ben greeted.
Ben and I had been dating for about five years. He proposed to me a few months, which I said yes to. And we are getting married at the end of this week.
I nominated my God Daughter [Y/N] because she has some confidence issues. She seems to think that because she isn’t an actress, or a model or a singer that she doesn’t deserve Ben.
[Y/n] is such an amazing woman, and I don’t want her to think that she shouldn’t be with me just because she is what she claims to be “ordinary”.
I’m really hoping that the Fab Five can help me with my confidence so that I don’t feel like I have to constantly be comparing myself to others. I want to be confident with who I am.
~~~~
“Aw! Baby!” Bobby Berk cooed. Antoni frowned.
“So, she doesn’t think that Ben deserves her because she is like, normal?” He asked. Johnathan nodded.
“Yes. That is what she hopes the Fab Five can help with. At the end of the week, she and Ben are getting married!” Johnathan said. Everyone gasped and cheered. “She wants to find the perfect dress and Ben needs help with the decorations for the wedding.” He said. Bobby gasped and smiled.
“Ooh! Yay! This is going to be, so fun!” He shouted.
“I think we know what our job is this week,” Karamo said, smiling. “Our job is to bring this girl form feeling crappy to feeling sassy and to help her feel her most beautiful self for her most beautiful moment!” Karamo cried. The rest of the Fab Five cheered at Karamo’s words.
~~~~~
The Fab Five pulled up to a beautiful looking house in L.A., California.
The Fab Five gasped and squealed at the house that they pulled up to.
“Oh my gosh! This is literally the cutest house in the world!” Bobby cried out.
“Oh my gosh, yas Queen!” Johnathan shouted. Karamo turned off the car and walked up the steps to the front door.
“Knock, knock! We’re here!” Tan shouted as he knocked on the door. There was some barking heard from inside. Johnathan gasped.
“Oh my gosh, they have a dog.” Johnathan said in excitement. The door was opened to reveal Ben Hardy himself. He smiled as he looked at the five men.
“Hey there!” He cried, his foot was off to the side, trying to keep the excited beagle that was Frankie from running out of the house. Tan smiled.
“Oh my gosh! Hi! How are you? I’m Tan!” Tan greeted, pulling Ben in for a hug. Ben smiled as the two pulled away.
“Hi Tan, it’s great to meet you. I’m Ben.” Ben introduced. Ben picked up Frankie and held her as he opened the door wider. “Please come in. [Y/N] should be on her way back from visiting Brian.” Ben said, welcoming the Fab Five into the house. Ben set Frankie down as he closed the door and embraced the rest of the Fab Five, introducing themselves as they did.
“I just have to say that I love your hair.” Johnathan said, looking at Ben’s hair. Ben chuckled and smiled.
“Thanks, mate.” He said. He gestured to the couch. “Um, would you all like to sit down?” He offered. The Fab Five and Ben sat on the couch in the living room. The couch itself was extremely comfy. It had a soft feel and was a beautiful tan color. The pillows positioned at the other ends of the couch were a vibrant and beautiful [f/c] that matched beautifully with the color of the couch. Karamo looked at Ben.
“So, you proposed to [Y/n] a few months ago after dating her for five years, right?” He asked. Ben nodded and smiled. It was clear, by the look on his face, that he loved his Fiancé and future wife very much.
“Yeah. We had been dating for about five years, and we are getting married at the end of this week.” He said. Ben laughed as everyone cheered for him in congratulations. Tan nodded.
“So, Brian is her God Father, are her parents in the picture?” He asked. Ben’s smile fell slightly.
“Um, no. No they, they aren’t. Um, her parents died when she was fifteen. They died in a car crash. I’ll let her tell the details,” Ben explained. “She was torn apart by that and Brian, since taking her in, has really been that Father figure she has needed throughout her life. It’s been really hitting her hard because she realized that her real dad isn’t going to be walking her down the isle at our wedding.” Ben explained. Johnathan pouted, feeling sympathy for the poor girl. The sound of the door opening caught everyone’s attention. [Y/n] looked up and gasped when she saw the Fab Five in her living room.
“Oh my gosh! You’re here!” She shouted excitedly. Johnathan was the first to jump up and give the woman a hug.
“Yes, we’re here! Oh my gosh! How are you?” Johnathan asked. [Y/n] hugged him back.
“Oh, I’m doing well, and how about yourself?” She asked as they pulled away.
“I’m doing so good,” he ran his fingers through her hair. She had [h/l] [h/c] hair. “Oh my gosh! I love your hair!” He gasped. [Y/n] laughed and smiled.
“Thank you.” She said. Karamo was next up.
“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Karamo.” He said, pulling her into a hug.
“Hi Karamo, it’s nice to meet you, I’m [Y/n].” She said as they pulled away. Tan quickly pulled her into a hug as well.
“You look gorgeous!” Tan complimented. [Y/n] laughed and hugged back.
“Thank you. You look amazing as well,” she said as they pulled away. “I love your hair.” She complimented. Tan smiled.
“Oh thank you!”
Antoni and Bobby were the next to give hugs, compliments and introduce themselves. Bobby clapped his hands together and looked at the couple.
“So, would you mind giving us a tour?” He asked. [Y/n] smiled and nodded.
“Of course,” she took Ben’s hand. “So, obviously this is the living room,” she said, gesturing to the couch. In front of the couch was a TV that sat inside a shelf. The shelf had some books and some plants on top. She and Ben then led them to the kitchen. The kitchen had a good amount of room. The kitchen counters and the bar top were made of marble. They had a silver refrigerator and a freezer at the bottom. They had a sink and cabinets that held their glasses, plates etc. Antoni gasped.
“Oh wow! This is amazing!” He said in astonishment. [Y/n] smiled.
“Ben’s kind of a neat freak, so we don’t tend to leave messes.” She said, smiling and kissing Ben’s cheek. Ben smiled at his soon to be wife. The Fab Five cooed and awed at the couple.
Just by looking at them, I can tell that Ben really loves [Y/n] and that [Y/n] really loves him in return. What I want to know, is why does [Y/n] lack confidence? Why does she feel like she does she feel like she’s “ordinary”?
“What I really want to see is the bedroom and the closet.” Tan said. While Tan went into the couple’s bedroom, Johnathan walked into the bathroom with [Y/n].
“Okay, so talk me through this. What’s your normal routine?” Johnathan asked. The couple’s bathroom had white walls, the same as the rest of the house, and white tiles in the shower. [Y/n] looked into the mirror.
“Okay, so, when I get up, the first thing is, I take a shower and then brush my teeth and comb my hair out.” She said. Johnathan nodded.
“Okay. So, do you put anything in your hair to, like, make it pop?” He asked. [Y/n] shook her head.
“The only product I really use is leave in conditioner,” she said. She opened the cabinet next to the mirror and took out a green plastic bottle and showed it to him. “It makes it easier for me to get the tangles out and it makes my hair less frizzy.” She explained. Johnathan nodded.
“Okay, that’s always good. We gotta keep these luxurious locks from getting tangled, I get it. So, you don’t like, use any, like hair spray when you are like curling it or getting ready for a night out with Ben?” He asked. [Y/n] shook her head.
“I don’t really like curling my hair. I just feel like it’s a really big hassle. And I feel like hairspray will just damage my hair.” She said. Johnathan nodded.
“Yeah, I get that. Using hairspray all day everyday definitely isn’t good for your hair. But it does add volume and a little pop to it.” He said.
Meanwhile, Tan was going through the bedroom, [Y/n] standing behind him. He opened the double closet doors and looked through the clothes. He noticed that there were a lot of Queen t-shirts. Both t-shirts from when Freddie Mercury was still alive and current t-shirts with Adam Lambert as the front man. He noticed that she had a few long sleeve shirts and some button ups. He noticed that she had a lot of jeans and shorts, but not a lot of skirts or dresses.
“Okay, so, what would you wear on a normal day to work. Your job is [y/j] (Your Job), right?” Tan asked. [Y/n] nodded.
“Yeah I do.” She said. Tan nodded.
“Okay, so, show me what outfit you would wear for work.” He said. [Y/n] nodded and walked into the closet, getting out a white button down shirt and some pants.
“So, on a normal day of work, I would wear like, a plain button down and some pants and my sneakers.” She said. She pulled out a pair of sneakers that had clearly seen better days.
Okay. The shirt, love it. The pants, love it. But the shoes and the amount of Queen shirts she has in her closet? I mean, I love that she is so supportive of her God Father, but I would like to see less of the Queen shirts.
Tan looked at the sneakers in shock.
“Oh my gosh. Darling. What is up with these shoes?!” He asked, astonished. [Y/n] chuckled and nodded.
“Yeah. I know, they look bad.” She said. He took them from her.
“Darling! Those sneakers are dead! And, I’m all for merch and all, but you have way too many Queen shirts in here. Is there a reason you have so much?” He asked. [Y/n] sighed.
“I, I really want to hold onto the memory of my parents. And I feel like the only way to do that, is to have the shirts of the band they loved. Plus, I want to support my God Father and my uncle.” She said. Tan nodded.
“I totally understand holding onto the memory of your parents. It must have been hard to loose them. But there are other ways of remembering them. Do you have any pictures of them?” He asked. [Y/n] nodded.
“Yeah, but they’re still in storage.” She said. Tan stared at her in shock.
“Why?” He asked. [Y/n] sighed and looked down.
“Um, I keep the pictures in storage because, every time, I see a picture of us together, I burst into tears. They were my biggest supporters in life, even more than Brian and Roger are now. And, I feel like I just still can’t accept the fact that they are gone.” She said. Tan nodded.
“Yeah. I completely understand that.” He said.
After talking with Tan, Karamo sat with [Y/n] on the couch.
“Okay, so, Ben told us, before you came home, that your parents died in a car crash. Can you tell me a little bit more about that?” Karamo asked. [Y/n] nodded.
“Yeah. Um, I had gotten into a pretty bad argument with my mom about my grades in high school. My grades were slipping and I didn’t have that great of friends in high school. Um, anyway, she and I had gotten into this huge argument about my grades. What I always say to anyone, my parents, Brian and Roger, and even Ben, is ‘Have fun, be safe.’ It’s kind of the way I make sure that they are going to come back home.” Karamo nodded as she told the story. “Anyway, um, I-I didn’t say that to my parents that day because I was mad at my mom. They went out on a date and the next thing I knew, um, t-the police were knocking on the door, and Brian was there, a-and that’s when I was told that m-my parents had died.” She said. Tears were falling from her eyes. She wiped them away. Karamo placed his hand on her shoulder in comfort. He sighed.
“Come here, hun,” he said, bringing her in her for a hug. [Y/n] hugged him back, trying to hold back her sobs.
I can tell that by the way she told that story, that she feels responsible for her parents death. No child should ever feel that way! I also still want to figure out why she thinks she doesn’t deserve Ben.
After getting over the tears, Karamo asked her.
“We were also told that you feel like you don’t deserve Ben. Why is that?” He asked. [Y/n] scoffed.
“Have you seen him? He’s this gorgeous man, with amazing looks and that is a celebrity. I am just this, normal, average, everyday woman who does [y/j] for a living.” She said. Karamo put up a hand, stopping her.
“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there. Okay first of all, you are beautiful, you seem kind, you’re funny, and you seem to really love Ben. If Ben didn’t love you, he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him.” Karamo said. [Y/n] smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, yeah that’s true.” She said. Karamo smiled and nodded.
“And I honestly think that you should look at Ben more than just a celebrity. He’s your fiancé, your soon to be husband at the end of this week. I think you should come to realize that you mean more to him than you think.” He said.
Bobby was currently on the balcony outside of the couple’s bed room.
“Okay, so, you and [Y/N] are getting married at the end of this week, right?” He asked. Ben nodded.
“Yeah.” He said. Bobby smiled.
“And you want help with the decorations and such, yeah?” He asked. Ben nodded.
“Yeah. I, I just really want to show [Y/n] that she deserves this. I want to show her that I love her and that she is loved by all of our friends.” He said. Bobby nodded in understanding.
“Yeah, that’s totally understandable,” he said. “Being married myself, I want my husband to feel that he is loved everyday. I want to constantly show and remind him how much he means to me, as I’m sure you do with [Y/n]. I think that she knows you love her, but I think that she just has a hard time accepting it because of her self confidence problems. And this is as much her time as it is your time. Getting married is a big step, bit what matters the most is that at the end of the day, you both love each other and are willing to see each other in your best and your worst times.” Bobby said. Ben nodded.
~~~~
After speaking to the couple, the Fab Five went back to their headquarters, figuring out what they each were going to do to help [Y/n] gain her self confidence again. Karamo was on the phone, smiling and talking to someone.
What really helps someone realize that they are loved, is by hearing it from the people around them. I also really want [Y/n] to realize that her parents’ deaths wasn’t her fault.
Tan was looking through some dresses, pants and shirts.
What really helps someone gain confidence in themselves is by what clothes they wear. I want to help [Y/n] find clothes that will help her feel more like herself. I also noticed that she doesn’t really have any dresses or skirts. Which is fine, but we also need to find the perfect dress for her wedding day.
Bobby was looking at the place where they wanted to get married. They were getting married at Hopmonk Tavern in California. Bobby had a picture of the couple.
When looking at the Hopmonk Tavern, I think it’s a beautiful place. We just need figure out the colors for the wedding.
Johnathan was running his fingers through his hair, mentally thinking about what he wanted to do to [Y/n]’s hair.
What can really make someone feel confident is how they take care of themselves. It’s clear that [Y/n] makes an effort for Ben, but I want her to make an effort for herself. I want her to feel like the freaking Queen she is! No pun intended.
~~~~~~
//I really, really hope you guys like this. If you have any suggestions of what should happen next, please let me know. I would love to hear your thoughts. I’m going to divide this into parts, like Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4 and Day 5 just like they do in the show.//
