Warnings: descriptions of kidnapping; mentions of death and murder
Divider by @silkholland
Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist
You put up a fight.
It doesn’t matter that you lost, you keep telling yourself.
You fought. With everything you had.
You made them work for it.
They hadn’t waltzed into your home unannounced and plucked you like a ripe fruit.
No. They had to chase you. Through your father's grand halls, past portraits of ancestors who surely would have been appalled by the racket.
You had turned over tables, ducked behind curtains, slipped from one room to the next, heart pounding in your throat just like your feet on the floors.
It made them rougher. It made them intimidating. It made them brutal.
But even when they finally cornered you, when their calloused hands aggressively grabbed at your arms and pulled you, you didn’t stop. You thrashed and screamed and kicked and bit and clawed - every inch of your body on high alert and protesting against their strong hold.
They were sweating by the time they bound you, snarling curses and grunts of frustration flying at your face with the spit out of their mouths. They called you names, ugly names, growled at you to stop resisting.
One of the three men even laughed - a low, cruel sound - but it was laced with fury.
You tell yourself it was worth it.
Every bruise, every ache in your body as they now drag you down the manor steps to the waiting ship, every ragged breath you manage to gulp in your struggle - it’s all worth it. Even as your father’s angered voice fades behind you, lost in the salt-stung wind and the distant crash of waves.
Because you didn’t make it easy for them.
You fought back.
And that is something you will forever be proud of.
Although that forever might end sooner than you had envisioned before this day.
Still, you tell yourself you won something - however small.
Maybe you won’t live to see the end of this. Maybe the days ahead hold horrors you couldn’t yet imagine.
But you didn’t go quietly.
The gangplank groans beneath the firm boots of your three kidnappers as they haul you aboard. The salty air stings the cuts on your wrists where the ropes bite into your skin but you refrain from wincing.
The ship rises and falls with the swell of the sea. It’s unfamiliar. So foreign in its feeling, it reminds you just how much you leave behind by stepping foot onto this ship.
The men shove you forward.
Around you, the crew is working. You have no idea why there are so many people needed on a ship but you feel the urge to shrink into yourself at the many stares you receive.
So many men. And none of them say anything. But they smirk and chuckle menacingly and you grow more uneasy with every step you take.
A prize. That’s what you are to them.
“Cap’n’s gonna love this,” one of the men holding you mutters, spitting onto the deck. He smells of sweat and dirt.
Again, you refrain from wincing.
“Aye,” grunts the one behind you, whose arm you had managed to claw so deep, the blood is already drying in ragged streaks. “Feisty little wench. Wonder how long she’ll keep her spirit when the Captain’s done with her.”
You hope there is no fear on your face. But your heart certainly picked up in pace. Your silence seems to irk the men further, and you feel the grip on your arms tighten, yanking you forward. “Come on, girl, move!”
The boards beneath your feet are damp and uneven, smelling of seawater and tar. The crew keeps eying you with varying degrees of interest - some openly leering, others grinning like your presence on the ship is the best to have happened to them all year. A shiver crawls up your spine. Your hands ball to fists.
They part as you are dragged toward the wheel, where a figure stands. His silhouette is tall and commanding against the blood-red sunset.
That must be the captain.
He isn’t barking orders or pacing like you might have expected. Instead, he stands still, one of his arms resting casually on the hilt of a blade strapped to his hip, his other hand tracing lazy circles against the ship’s wooden railing.
His left hand is basically red with scar tissue, though he doesn’t seem to mind it’s on full display.
He looks more put together than some of the others - the three men who captured you especially. The way he carries himself seems almost careless. So nonchalant. Confident, as though he owns not only the ship but the waves themselves. His dark hair is pulled back loosely, strands of it catching the wind.
James Barnes.
It’s not like you haven’t heard the name before.
Of course, you have.
The pirate who had crawled up from the depths after losing everything, carving his name into the bones of the sea. Ruthless. Calculating. Cold.
Your father never said much about the man, but that is part of what unnerves you. He isn’t afraid of anything - at least, not that he lets show. But any time someone dared to bring up Bucky Barnes or his crew, your father’s face would harden in a way that always made your stomach twist.
Now you are standing on the deck of Barnes’s ship, caught in the middle of a vendetta you hadn’t even known existed.
All you know, all you had heard from half-overheard conversations or rumors whispered among the servants in your manor is that Bucky Barnes lost his mother and sister in a raid many years back.
It was brutal you had heard. Indiscriminate. Pirates or mercenaries stormed his village under the cover of darkness and burned torches to the ground.
He was young then, barely a man, but he fought. With everything he had. But it wasn’t enough.
The details are hazy but you heard enough to imagine how awful that must have been.
His father had survived the raid. He was a sailor then. But he joined forces and took his son along, cutting a swath of vengeance across the water. They hunted the men responsible all over the globe. That’s when he became a pirate.
His father’s obsession with vengeance consumed him until it finally cost him his life. Again, you are lost on any details. It might have been a skirmish gone wrong or the grief dragging him under the water. You can’t tell.
All you can tell is that it left Bucky alone. And it made him the cold-blooded pirate he is nowadays.
But nothing could have prepared you for the reality of him.
His eyes are a storm. Wilder than any tornado you had heard stories of. His jawline is sharp, cheekbones high, a handsome face marred only by the thin scar running from his temple to his ear.
The men haul you forward and he watches you with a calmness that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He doesn’t speak right away, just lets his gaze sweep over you slowly, deliberately, intensely, like he is studying something he’s been waiting for a long, long time.
“Cap’n Barnes,” one man says. His lip is split, a crimson smear trailing down to his chin. You did that. “We got her.”
Rough hands shove you forward unceremoniously. You stumble but don’t fall, catching yourself just in time. You keep your expression as blank as it would go.
Bucky’s lips twitch at the corners, but it’s not quite a smile. He steps down from his spot near the wheel, boots hitting the deck with a weight that silences even the wind. He looks at the men then and there is something darkly amused in the way his brow arches.
“This is her?” His voice is smooth but carries an edge, the kind that could cut without raising.
Bucky’s harsh gaze flicks to the scratches on one man’s arms, then to the bruises blooming on another’s jaw, and to the trail of blood on the last man’s neck, still trailing lower, from the chapped lips you had punched open.
You allow yourself a short breath before his attention can switch back to you.
The men shift nervously under his scrutiny and the raised eyebrow. “She fights like a damn wildcat,” defends the one with the open bruises. The captain hadn’t even said anything yet. “Nearly gouged my eye out.”
Bucky barks out a laugh, the sound sharp and unexpected. “Shame it didn’t stick.”
The men grumble in discomfort, looking at each other.
The captain chuckles, though it’s low and humorless and rather terrifying. Your skin prickles.
“You mean to tell me the daughter of a landlubber put you lot on your asses?” he spits out.
You can’t help your reaction.
You are well aware that you are finding yourself in a rather dangerous position. But nobody talks your father down. Nobody gets to walk over his title in such a manner. Nobody gets to derogate your father. Not even a damn pirate captain. Running over your father’s name means running over yours as well.
So, yes, you jerk against the arms that hold you and you let your fury redden your face.
Though you should have known better.
Because Bucky’s attention is now solely focused on you, eyes like steel blazing against your skin.
He steps closer to you, his boots scuffing the wood, and you straighten instinctively, refusing to shrink under the pressure his gaze puts upon you. He stops just short of you, close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw and the cold intrigue in his eyes.
His lips twitch again. This time it’s the shadow of a smirk. It unsettles you.
You shiver.
Bucky’s smirk deepens. He reaches out his scarred hand, tilting your chin upwards with two fingers. His touch isn’t rough, but it isn’t gentle either. More like he’s inspecting a piece of cargo. You try your very best to meet his gaze with eyes burning in defiance.
He looks eager - wickedly so - for something you’re not sure of but the fear you tried to shove to the deepest corners of your body comes creeping up your neck, overshadowing the pride you held for yourself just moments before.
You hate yourself for it. But your heart can’t help but thud violently.
“You’ve got your father’s looks about you,” he murmurs so quietly, you’re not sure anyone but you even heard it. It’s probably not even meant for your ears but he doesn’t seem like a person to care what people think. So why would he care if you heard him.
He sounds dangerous though. Too calm and still lethal. Your fear takes on another shape.
But as his hand moves to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, your head jerks away on its own and your lips form a slight snarl.
Bucky chuckles again. And to your surprise, it actually sounds amused. His hand falls from your face and he takes a step back from you with his wide smirk still plastered on his handsome face. He tilts his head at you slightly, studying you some more.
Pieces click into place. Actually, they’d been there all along, waiting in the corners of your mind, half-formed and heavy with a meaning that makes you shudder. But one you have to acknowledge now since you find yourself in its cause.
This isn’t a random kidnapping. This isn’t about piracy. You’re not just here because your father is able to pay a high ransom for your release.
This is something far older, far darker.
This is vengeance.
The vengeance Bucky Barnes had fought for his whole pirate life.
You don’t know any specifics. Perhaps Bucky doesn’t either. But a pirate doesn’t care for specifics after all.
Your father’s trading empire had always been shadowed by backroom deals, underhanded tactics, and alliances forged in blood. He’d always tried to hide the dark parts from you of course. He was good at hiding things - his anger, his dealings, his sins.
But you always felt like something was wrong with his world. And you were curious, foolishly so. You were a child, and children always want to touch the flame.
You never did well with the path he went down.
The first time you confronted him - clutching letters you weren’t meant to read in your trembling grip and demanding answers - he barely even looked at you as he ordered the guards to lock you in your room.
“This is not your business. And if you want to keep that little head of yours, you will learn to stay where you belong.”
You didn’t learn. You were young and stubborn and naive, so you kept pushing, kept digging into the corners he wanted you to leave untouched.
You spent weeks locked inside your room every time. He taught you lesson after lesson, each one harder than the last. Servants were forbidden to speak to you, the scraping of plates grating on you as they slid your meals through the door. No books. No letters. No glimpse outside. Just silence so suffocating, walls pressing against you from all sides, like they were on your father’s side, conspiring to keep you in.
Your father isn’t a cruel man - not in the way you’d imagine cruelty, all whips and chains and unrestrained fury. His cruelty is colder, quieter, built into the way he looks at you like you are a disappointment for daring to see too much. For daring to want too much.
He wants to protect you is what he told you. He told you it’s dangerous out there.
It is.
But it’s dangerous because of him. He hadn’t locked you away out of protection, he just tried to keep you from looking too closely at the cracks in the foundation of his empire.
And now, because of those cracks, because of his choices, you are here.
It isn’t hard to imagine that your father might have had some hand in whatever led to that fateful raid those years ago that cut down Bucky’s family.
And the pirate had lived his life thereafter chasing the ghost of his family’s ruin.
And that makes you his prize. His weapon. His proof that revenge could be tangible.
He basically lived the last years in pursuit of this moment.
The thought burns in your chest. Low and fierce. But you won’t break under the mistakes of your father’s legacy. Not for him. Not for Bucky. Not for anyone.
You press your lips together and meet Bucky’s gaze again and this time you see it. Sitting just behind his irises.
Hatred.
“Take her below,” he orders gravely. “And keep her in one piece. For now.”
SUMMARY: You and Lord Berkshire have found yourselves in a rather improper and intimate situation while trying not to get to caught because it could ruin your reputations.
word count: 2,197
genre: smut | fem!/afab!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly
warnings/tropes: 18+ MDNI, a part of my lady!reader au, might contain slight dubcon elements (i guess), fingering, kissing, you're outside at a ball (in public but alone), it‘s probably not completely time accurate but who cares!, english is not my first language, briefly proofread — if I forgot something, please let me know!
a/n: i‘m so happy to publish my first work for this reader au and for enzo!! enjoy reading my loves 💓 reblogs, feedback and comments are highly appreciated and welcomed! ♡
disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. i don’t give you my permission to use my writing for any ai related things, don’t do it. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know!
divider by cafekitsune
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“Lord Berkshire, are you truly implying that I lack the courage to take such a risk?” You raised your eyebrows with a gasp while walking beside your companion. Your hands were clasped over your chest as you scoffed playfully.
He hummed and nodded, “I speak solely in truth, my Lady. Am I not?” A grin appeared on his lips as he continued to walk next to you. His hand brushed against your arm for a short moment – which gave both of you slight goosebumps but neither of you commented on it.
You turned your head towards him and stopped in your tracks, which caused him to stand still as well and look you up and down for a brief moment. This did not go unnoticed by you. A smile graced Lord Berkshire’s lips, prompting you to look down with a small smile of your own. The pearls of your gown sparkled in the moonlight, while a gentle breeze rustled through the trees.
You playfully rolled your eyes and continued to walk on the path of the gardens you walked together. “Well, I do recall that it would be quite improper if we were to be discovered alone in these gardens. Or am I wrong? Should we be seen in this moment, it might already be presumed that we are acting inappropriately. Is that not risk enough, my Lord?” You stepped closer and raised your chin while you let your hands drop to the side of your body. “If I take one more step closer and someone happens to watch us from the wrong perspective…”
“It might be assumed that our lips have touched, though, in truth, they have not,” Lord Berkshire finished your sentence with a sudden hoarse voice, but his confidence and cockiness were still present. His gaze dropped down to your lips before it found your piercing eyes again. “What a scandal it would be.”
“Indeed, it would,” you whispered and parted your lips. A familiar ache between your legs made its presence known. Whenever you were in his presence your thoughts weren’t proper.
With a shaky breath, you stepped away from him, but you wished you could just feel his lips on yours for once. You wished to feel his hands on your body while they caressed your skin. Or to feel his lips travelling down to your jaw and neck. A fantasy that filled your mind too many times, especially at night while you lie wide awake in your bed and hands between your thighs. As you imagined him with you.
Your cheeks grew hot as your mind travelled to those thoughts. With a clearing of your throat, you turned around to continue your walk with the Lord and he immediately followed you. Only if you knew that he had the same thoughts as you.
The music from the ball inside the building became quieter as you continued to walk further away. Your hands brushed against each other as you walked closer to each other the more you walked away. In privacy, you were able to be closer, even if you were still in public. It was still a risk, even more so now that you were completely alone as you walked between the trees at the lake's edge. It may be less likely to get caught by someone else, but the risk was still there.
With every step you took and every brushed hand, your breath caught in your throat even more. Your breaths became deeper as you tried to listen to his words. But the moment you stopped at a gazebo and stood close to each other; all you could focus on was the way his lips moved as he talked. Lord Berkshire looked even more handsome in the mixed light of the moonlight and lanterns of the gazebo. His voice was soft as always, but you wished he’d stop talking and kiss you. He may just be courting you, but you wished for nothing else at that very moment.
“My Lady? Is there any matter that troubles your mind?” His question brought you back to your senses.
You cleared your throat and blinked quickly. “Y-yeah, uhm... No everything is well, my Lord.” You looked away from him for a moment to calm yourself down, but the same thoughts troubled your mind again as soon as your eyes met his.
“What are you thinking about?” Lord Berkshire asked you and stepped closer. He noticed how your breath hitched and how your eyes had been focused on his lips rather than anything else. He tried to bite back a smirk as you shook your head. “I should not tell you, my Lord.”
You gasped lightly when you suddenly felt the pillar at your back. You felt the warmth of his body as he stepped closer – one more step and you would feel his body against yours. You knew you should stop him right away, but you couldn’t.
“My Lord… We…” You shook your head and closed your eyes when he leaned down to your ear. “You may call me Lorenzo, my Lady.”
You inhaled shakily and slowly nodded. “If someone sees us, we…” You placed your gloved hand on his chest and pushed him slightly away from you – unsure if you should let it happen or not.
“I know of the possible consequences, my dear. But would you take the risk?” His question caught you off guard. “Do you wish that we stop or that we continue? The decision is yours. However, I do not believe you would be so bold to take such a risk.”
Lorenzo exactly knew what he was doing, and it seemed to work. Over the time he courted you, he got to know how to get you worked up through little allusions and every time it worked. He may have been already planning to propose but he wanted to feel the thrill. The thrill of possibly getting caught in such an improper situation between two unmarried people who shared such affection.
You narrowed your eyes and looked up to him, you stopped pushing him away and scoffed. “I already told you, I do not shy away from risks, my Lord.” The use of his title rather than his first name was intentional by you.
“Are you speaking the truth, my Lady?” He raised one eyebrow and brushed his hand over your arm.
You had each other where you wanted, but would you truly take the risk to possibly get caught?
Without thinking you pulled him in and kissed his lips. Both of you hummed in sync as you explored each other’s mouths and hands travelled over your bodies. A light moan escaped your lips when he pulled you closer by your waist and deepened the kiss. His lips travelled to your jaw and placed tiny kisses up to your ear. The feelings you felt in that moment were much more exciting than your fantasies.
“Have you ever thought about this? How my lips would feel on your skin?” Lorenzo whispered in your ear and traced his fingers down your arm — leaving you in shivers. Your breath hitched when you felt his hot breath against your skin and kept eye contact with him while he spoke. “How my hands would feel on your exposed skin? Did you ever think about these fantasies?”
You slowly nodded as you let him continue and your mind began to blur slightly – you wanted this. He continued to place kisses on your jaw, and a few landed on the side of your neck. You closed your eyes and wished for more. You slowly grew impatient but appreciated that he took his time. All you wished for was that nobody would see you in the dim light of the gazebo – your life would be over otherwise. Seen with another person? A gentleman? Alone? In such an intimate moment? Yeah, your life would be over immediately. But the thrill only heightened your excitement.
“Do you want me to continue?” Although he may have done it intentionally to provoke you, he didn’t wish to act against your will.
You were unsure if you should continue, as you were still in public, but your mind grew hazier with each kiss and the closer you were to each other. As soon as you nodded slowly, he let one hand glide down your gown and gently pushed up the layers of fabrics of your gown and underclothes. You raised your left leg and shivered at the contrast between the fresh air and his bare hand against the heated skin of your thigh. He gently brushed his fingers over it, teased the hem of your stockings and eventually drew small patterns on your skin that gave you goosebumps.
A soft gasp left your lips when his hand cupped your heat – your arousal coated his palm. You steadied yourself and grabbed one of his arms with one hand and with your other hand, you grabbed the railing of the gazebo while he explored your wet folds and teased your entrance – you only got wetter the more he continued.
Your gaze found his – you shared your breath and dilated pupils met each other while his fingers circled over your clit and brought you close to your climax. You were already familiar with the feeling from past explorations with yourself but feeling this because of him felt even better and you didn’t want him to stop. Even if you weren’t completely sure for how long you should continue. Your gasps grew louder and turned into soft moans and whimpers as he eventually pushed a finger slowly into you. Your head fell back as he started to move his finger inside you – your grip on his arm and railing got tighter. He enjoyed the view of you way too much.
“Oh god,” you gasped softly and quickly removed your hand from the railing to put it over your mouth to quieten yourself. His grip on your waist was tight while he held you close against him. The feeling of his lips against your neck brought you almost over the edge – it was an overwhelming but beautiful feeling.
Lorenzo felt his trousers getting tighter around his cock, he gulped and tried not to moan at your sight and sounds, but you looked and sounded so heavenly. But a moan escaped his lips, nevertheless. You were like an angel brought to him while he pleasured you with his hand. He already loved to hear your voice and even more, to hear you laugh but your gasps and moans were just as beautiful, and he wanted to hear them again all his life. He could only imagine how you would sound like if he could feel your walls around his cock.
“You sound so beautiful, my dear,” he whispered with a hoarse voice in your ear. His breath was hot on your skin.
Lorenzo increased the movements of his hand after he added another finger – stretching you slowly. Your grip on his arm tightened with the increased movements and a soft gasp left your lips while you moved your hips against his hand. Which caused you to whimper as the added friction unknowingly gave you more pleasure.
Lorenzo gently removed your hand from your mouth and placed a kiss on your lips while he circled his thumb over your clit and curled his fingers inside you – hitting the sweet spot inside you that made you arch your back against him. Eventually, his movements made you come around his fingers and moan into his mouth – your legs shook slightly from the intense pleasure. You felt like you were floating while he fingered you through your orgasm. Lorenzo licked his lips as he watched you coming down from it and how your chest moved quickly with every shaky breath you took. The risk was worth any price.
“That was...” You whispered with a shy smile, “Amazing.” Your chest was still heaving from the moment you just shared with Lorenzo.
He smiled in return and placed another small kiss on your lips before he eventually slowly pulled his fingers out of you, which caused another whimper to leave your lips. In the dim light of the moon and lantern, you could see your arousal coating his fingers – the skin of your cheeks heated up again with the sight of it.
“My Lady… You’re indeed full of surprises,” he chuckled, which caused you to playfully hit his chest. “There are many things left to discover. And… You may call me by my first name as well, Lorenzo.”
“As you wish Y/N, it’s an honour for me to call you by your first name,” he smirked before he looked around for a brief moment. “We should head back to the ball,” Lorenzo whispered with a soft voice while he helped to fix your clothes, “Not that anyone misses us,” he grinned mischievously.
Lorenzo was careful not to use his hand which he used to pleasure you. He didn’t want to ruin your gown, although he slightly did wish someone would notice what you and he had done. But what if you both weren’t careful enough and someone had seen everything you did?
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A/N: These two have my heart. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B
On the sixth day of the journey, Lord James, the bannermen, and yourself neared the borders of the neighboring land. Suddenly, a storm swept across the plains, rain lashing down and turning the ground into a quagmire.
Tents were hastily pitched as everyone sought shelter from the downpour. Huddled under a small canopy with Lord James and a few of his closest advisors, the tension in the air was thick as the storm raged. Illuminating the worried looks of the soldiers and servants, the lightning split the sky, and thunder drummed.
You couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness in the discomfort of the situation as you weathered the storm with Lord James.
“I don’t like the look of this weather,” one of the advisors muttered, their gaze fixed on the sheets of rain outside.
“It will pass,” Lord James reassured before turning to you, speaking with a hint of concern. “Are you holding up alright, Lady Romanoff?”
Despite the unease settling in your stomach, you offered a reassuring smile as you nodded. “I’m fine, my lord. It’s just a bit of rain.”
He glanced down at you, a flicker of something passed through his eyes before he placed another layer of pelt around your shoulders. “Stay wrapped. We’ll resume the journey as soon as it lets up.”
As the storm continued, raging around you, you felt Lord James’ presence closer to you. His breath was warm against your ear. “Have no fear,” he spoke firmly, his voice steady. “This storm is no stranger. I was born amidst such tempests.”
Resonating deeply within you, his words carried a weight of resilience. Looking at him in the dim light from the flickering torches, you swore you saw a glimpse of the man behind the titles. His expression softened slightly as he met your gaze.
“You’ve faced many trials,” you acknowledged, your voice audible to only Lord James over the howling wind.
A faint smile touched his lips. “And, I have survived them all.”
Hours passed in comfortable silence, only broken by the occasional clap of thunder. Leaving behind a soggy landscape, the storm began to subside. Albeit at a slow pace, the decision was made to press on with cautious optimism due to the muddied roads.
Still guarded, the aftermath of the storm mirrored the newfound shift in your relationship with Lord James as you rode alongside him again.
~
The sun hung high in the skin, a golden hue over the hills as your entourage continued the journey south. Riding alongside Lord James, Honeybreeze and Alpine trotted gracefully in tandem. The days grew warmer, and a gentle breeze carried the familiar scent of wildflowers through the air.
Glancing over at Lord James, you noticed his jaw set in determination as his eyes scanned the horizon. His focus mirrored his reputation as the White Wolf. Clearing his throat, he jolted you out of your trance.
Realizing your eyes were locked onto his side profile, you averted your gaze and offered a sheepish smile. “My apologies, my lord,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
He glanced over at you briefly, amusement in his eyes before he returned his focus ahead, “No harm done, Lady Romanoff,” there was a hint of a smile in his reply. “Just keep your attention on the road ahead as we enter more contested lands.”
You nodded, grateful for his understanding. Turning your focus back to the road stretching ahead, the landscape shifted around you.
“Tell me about your sisters,” Lord James prompted, his voice carrying above the rhythmic sound of hooves against the dirt.
You faced him, a curious expression on your face. He caught you off guard with his inquiry, but you welcomed the opportunity to share a piece of your world with him.
A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you began telling him about your sisters. Lord James listened intently, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he took in the details of your sisters’ strengths and characters. Bridging the gap between you both, the conversation flowed easily between you.
~
As the weeks wore on, the relentless pace began to take its toll as the sun was high overhead. There was a growing weariness in your limbs. Honeybreeze’s usually smooth gait seemed to jar your bones.
Ever vigilant, Lord James noticed your discomfort. Concern flickering in his gaze as he looked at you, the furrow between his brows deepened. “Lady Romanoff,” he began in a gentle tone. “You appear fatigued. Perhaps riding in the carriage would be best.”
Shaking your head, you forced a smile. “Just a bit tired, my lord. I’m fine, I can remain here, with Honeybreeze and yourself.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I appreciate your desire to ride,” he admitted. “But, I worry about your safety, I would feel more at ease if you traveled in the carriage for a while.”
You hesitated, his genuine concern tore into your steadfast decision. Your gaze moved down to Honeybreeze. Just say you were about to respond, Lord James continued, his voice gentle yet persuasive.
“I promise you,” he continued. “I will keep Honeybreeze close to me. She will receive the best care and attention. You have my word… my lady.”
Resonating with sincerity, his words made it difficult to refute his earnest pleas. Gazing into his eyes, you saw a depth of concern in the ocean color, touching you deeply– a concern that went beyond his obligation.
You relented with a small nod after a moment of internal struggle. “As you wish, my lord,” you acquiesced quietly. “I shall travel by carriage for a while.”
Relief flickered across Lord James’ features. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, offering an appreciative smile. “Your decision will serve us both well.”
As you dismounted Honeybreeze, he signaled for the carriage to be prepared. You gave Honeybreeze a reassuring pat before climbing into the waiting vehicle.
Through the window, you watched cautiously as Lord James took the reins of Honeybreeze. He gently guided her alongside Alpine, true to his word, he kept her close.
You settled onto the cushioned seat, a surprising sense of relief as it offered a respite from the constant jostling.
As the procession moved forward, the gentle sway of the carriage lulled you into a state of relaxation. Resting your head against the window, you noticed occasional glances from Lord James toward the carriage.
Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself a moment of rest. You were comforted by the knowledge that your lord– your future husband, was looking out and protecting both you and Honeybreeze.
---
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Check in with your girlfriend in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.
Warnings for this section: Social anxiety, cannabis (weed) mention
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Absolute Smokeshow (Part 86 of ?): Mami Bear
The stiffness and pain in her elbow was the first sensation Rhea felt upon waking. She groaned, refusing to open her eyes to the sunlight and turning over to her other side to remove the pressure on her arm. The warm body she had turned to shifted in bed and she moved closer instinctively, nuzzling her face between two shoulder blades and inhaling a strangely unfamiliar scent.
Rhea’s eyes flew open as she pulled away and Thea Hail’s sleeping figure was the very first thing in the Eradicator’s field of vision. After a few seconds of panic, trying to shake off the haze of sleep in order to recall how the younger woman had appeared in her bed, she remembered Thea seeking refuge last night. She let out a sigh of relief, secure in the knowledge that she hadn’t sought out her rival’s girlfriend (well, now ex-girlfriend, she supposed) for a revenge fuck.
Rhea shifted closer to the nightstand on her side of the bed, picking up her phone to check her messages and the time. Still morning, so no need to rush on checking out. Messages from her girlfriend and Damian, but nothing from Dom. She frowned at the screen, trying not to overthink as she opened the texts.
The usual combination “good morning” and “I love you” text from her girlfriend lessened her frown as she responded with the same, then asked how the indie show went.
Damian’s message, on the other hand, was a photo and caption that almost made Rhea laugh loud enough to wake her guest, furious giggles erupting from her chest. Muffling her laughter with her pillow, she waited until the giggle fit was over before looking at the message once again:
Finn Balor - a veritable demon in the ring and always on his guard - dead asleep, ass in the air, and clothes halfway off as he slumped at a 45 degree angle over the armrest of a hotel couch he was drooling all over. It was obvious he had fallen asleep immediately following some sex act or other, and Damian’s attached comment read: “So that’s a “no” on cuddling after?”
“Didn’t know you’d perfected the Go To Sleep during your off hours!” Rhea sent as a reply, smiling at her own joke.
Opening the messages between her and Dom, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to send him a message first; never mind that she’d rarely had to up to this point. While she was typing, Rhea’s phone went off in her hands, heralding Damian’s reply:
“CM Punk is nothing compared to my dick”
Rhea cackled loudly this time, only remembering she was trying to stay quiet once her laughter had already disturbed the calmness of the room. The woman next to her immediately began to stir at the sound, stretching underneath the covers and turning to her other side. Opening her eyes, Thea blinked at her hostess with a slight confusion and curiosity.
“‘Morning,” Rhea said, hitting send on the message to Dom before setting down her phone. “Didn’t mean to wake you. There’s still time if you need to sleep more.”
Hand instinctively reaching for the cut on her head, Thea stopped herself from scratching when she felt the butterfly bandages.
“S’okay,” she mumbled, yawning. “What’s up?”
“Damian is a regular comedian,” Rhea said, shaking her head and watching the blonde grimace as she sat up. “How are you doing?”
Thea stretched cautiously, expression contorting in pain every now and then as she assessed her injuries. The bruises that had blossomed on her arms gave her pause.
“I’ll heal enough in time for the next show,” Thea sighed finally. “I just… I feel so stupid for thinking Jacy ever cared about me” - her voice faltered as she tried to fight back tears - “She threw me out the second I stopped helping her hurt people and now… I have no idea what to do.”
“Hmm,” Rhea hummed, brow knit as she began to think.
Jacy was planning on striking against her and Thea at some point in the nebulous future. Currently, Rhea wasn’t in the best condition to defend the blonde herself, but she was still capable of being a formidable force if necessary; particularly since Jacy had injuries of her own that leveled the playing field.
After a moment of thought, Rhea’s face suddenly relaxed into a smirk.
“I might have an idea.”
-
“Hey there, beautiful,” Rhea greeted you with a smile, her voice emanating from your laptop.
“Hey babe,” you replied, delighted to have an impromptu video chat with your girlfriend. “What’s up?”
“Missing you,” Rhea admitted, licking her lips in a way that made you focus on her tongue. “I would go into more detail, but I don’t want to make my new friend here uncomfortable.”
“New friend?” you asked, curious.
Rhea waved over someone offscreen and a familiar, dirty-blonde curtain of hair entered the frame.
“Thea?!”
You didn’t know who you expected to see, but it wasn’t her.
“What happened?” you asked immediately, noticing the bandages on her head and a few bruises.
“Bad break-up. But I’m okay, thanks to Rhea,” she smiled gratefully at your girlfriend.
“She’s under the protection of the Judgment Day,” Rhea assured you before pausing to consider something for a moment and frowning. “Though I guess this means we’ll have to make JD a real member…”
“Which one is JD again?” Thea asked sheepishly.
“Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you to everyone when we head out,” Rhea promised.
Seeing Thea happily away from Jacy Jayne relieved a nagging anxiety that had never quite left since the night you’d met her. No one deserved to be stuck in such a manipulative relationship, least of all the sweet ray of sunshine that beamed at you from the screen. Now, with the Judgment Day by her side, Thea was safe - freeing up your anxiety to focus full-force on your lack of a job and tentative living situation.
“You okay, love?” Rhea asked, seeing the worry on your face.
“Just job stuff,” you sighed. “Rent is due soon and I haven’t heard back from anywhere I applied to.”
“That sounds really stressful,” Thea piped up when your girlfriend seemed at a loss for what to say.
“It is,” you admitted, “But I’m not the only one having trouble; even the local indie wrestling scene is struggling to get enough of a following to afford a venue.”
Rhea’s furrowed brow relaxed and you could practically see the lightbulb pop up over her head as she settled into a knowing smile.
“So if someone were to, say, offer her services” - she casually gestured in your direction - “securing a special guest or two” - her hand alighted on her own chest - “they might start making enough to hire her?”
You stared incredulously at your girlfriend’s image on screen, one finger pointing at you.
“Wh- can you even do that?” you squeaked. “The Judgment Day is signed to WWE!”
“So we won’t wrestle and we won’t get paid,” Rhea said casually. “I bet you’ll get droves that come in just to look at us.”
“You really don’t have to. I would never ask-“
“Which is why I offered,” your girlfriend pointed out, smile widening.
All this just to get you a job that didn’t even exist yet? Was that even possible?
And wouldn’t this increase your chances of being in the public eye?
“… Can I think about it?” you asked, on the verge of feeling too overwhelmed to speak.
Rhea’s face fell, though she tried not to let it show. “Of course, love.”
A silence fell over the three of you before Thea piped up, addressing your girlfriend.
“When did you say we needed to check out again?”
“Fuck, you’re right,” Rhea said before looking back at you. “I’ll talk to you later?”
You nodded.
“Love you,” she said with a smile.
“Love you,” you echoed back, waiting until the call ended before scrambling in the direction of Mari’s bong.
Synopsis: Eswood Island. An escape. A trade depot. A home for many passing pirates. Most who you know by name--most you shouldn't. When a new face comes into town threatening not just your parents' and your own livelihood, but has tormented an old...acquaintance's, the atmosphere shifts. Old feelings shoved down, you have to secretly team up with the very pirate captain you wish to continue ignoring, lest there be any more blood cast. But old feelings...they can complicate things, can't they?
Warnings: general mature themes & nsfw content, unfinished story (read a/n please), dark & dirty & dom!pirate!eddie, princess nickname used, past relationship, unhealthy relationship, descriptions of gore and death, angst, arguing/bickering as flirting, sexual tension, vulgar language, Eddie’s a cheeky little shit, slight knife kink, and mentions of dirty talk, rough & unprotected sex, and multiple orgasms.
Word Count: 8k
A/N: This is just a little story I started while experimenting with different pirate aus. there are four parts to this, but wholly, the story is unfinished. this is just something i was fucking around with and still wanted to share. so please keep that in mind while reading. this is just a "for-fun, fucking around, figuring out what i wanna write" fic. (that's also very black sails coded, i'm sorry). Anyway, I hope you like this, and I apologize for any plot holes/mistakes missed.
Oh, the vast open sea. What a sight to behold. The sun shining down and glinting off the water, the waves rocking the massive boat beneath your feet, and horrible, unavoidable, treacherous weather that turns the very boat on its side and drowns its victims in an abyss where their screams are swallowed.
You preferred land.
The opportunities the sea brought—sure. Those were welcomed any time. Not with open arms, but open ears. A side-eye in the right direction. A coin slipped to the right person, a foot through an unwatched door, an ear to the wall to listen to muffled words and hushed conversations.
The sea brought food. Brought trade. Provided the violet fabric to make the gown wrapped around you. The sea was the means for everything in Eswood. And still…it always brought trouble.
Staring down at the tracked-in sand crunching beneath your feet, the visitor upstairs meant trouble for your family. They always meant trouble, whether they brought it with them then, by sundown, or days later. Eswood Island would see it. Sometimes, there was shouting. Sometimes, it was pure silence behind those double doors. You heard the collection of four voices grow louder as you passed by it, your own heels masking the distinct sound of your parents' voices. They were locked in yet another argument about the three different shipments that'd gone missing over the last few weeks.
Mother, the brains, throwing out statistics. Father, the muscle, with stronger men to arm the warehouses and routes.
Daughter, the eavesdropper, sitting in the back of the tavern, listening. Two guards who used to be inauspicious, sat away from you, eyes on potential danger. Regular visitors knew Jon and Samual's faces by now. Knew how their fists cracked ribs and bloodied lips. But there were still a few newcomers who looked at you like you were in a brothel, not Sally's Tavern.
Only one was dumb enough to approach.
You had an ear to the harbor. Knew who landed, who deboarded, what goddamn cargo was purposefully made a show of being unloaded, and the cargo that was smuggled in. Coins weighed down your pockets to slip into others. Two scuffed pieces sat on the table as Sally herself brought you another drink, filling you in on the new pirate crew jeering in the corner. Jesting. Looking around like they'd stumbled into some shithole, even with the newly made tables, chairs, and collection of watered-down liquor nicer than half the islands nearby.
Hosting pirates didn't mean Sally didn't take her shit seriously.
And yet, despite knowing the red hand on the new visitor's flag was painted distinctly with human blood, knew of the tobacco they were attempting to smuggle in, the types of guns hidden securely beneath their coats, the blur in your peripherals had been a blindside. A collection of dark leather bleached by the sun. Long hair, equally as dark, turned into a curly mess from the salt air. A blade at his hip that supposedly cut through more bodies than were even in the packed tavern.
You tried to hide your surprise as he put his mug down on the table beside yours, beer spilling from the lip. A cheeky, proud smile turned the corners of his mouth up mockingly. Silver rings on his fingers caught the new installation of lights flickering above you, the knicks and divots deeper than last time. His other hand rested on the handle of his sword as he turned to face you.
"Evening, (Y/N)," he mused, brown eyes falling to you. He tapped his fingers on his sword as his grin simply grew more insufferable. "Miss me?"
"You believe I think about you? Freely?" Your own surprise was a blow to your pride. You glanced back at the newcomer, Captain Freed, sitting across the room, loudly bragging about the haul of cotton they brought in. Only five sacks, yet he brandished it like it was a dozen. According to the warehouse worker Freed thought he’d paid to be in his pocket, that was the amount of tobacco he'd sold them. Freed could've at least pretended to be humble about his ill attempts at telling such a falsity just in order to brag.
The chair moved across from you, and down he went into it, the table jerking a few inches as his legs hit it.
"Would fuckin' hate to find out it's one-sided," he cooed, bringing his mug to his lips.
You jerked your eyes back to him. Jon and Samual already had their eyes on you two. They wouldn't rush in without your signal, thankfully. Not with him.
Well, usually.
"What the fuck do you want, Captain Munson?"
"Mm. Love the formality. Really. Real fucking professional. But we both know it's not needed." He waved his hand in the air, the other left on the handle of his mug. He ran the tips of his fingers along the side of it slowly, his eyes glued to every swipe he made. His smirk remained. "What do I want?"
Shit. Poor choice of words, considering. You looked back over at Captain Freed, who had one of the more expensive brothel workers on his lap; a red velvet bag of coins was hauled from his coat pocket. A golden emblem of a lion was on the front. A rather familiar golden lion. You sat up straighter.
"You didn't know I was here," Captain Munson said, a little laugh in his voice. Excitement. Mischief.
Gold coins fell into the bosom of the woman on Freed's lap. Pristine, shiny gold coins. Freed shoved his curly blond hair out of his eyes and threw a few more gold coins onto the table. Sally sent a look your way as she plucked them up. Another round was brought their way.
"I don't care about the incessant, pointless nobodies who take up space on my island," you muttered, eyes still on Freed.
"Ouch. You wound me, princess." His boot nudged yours beneath the table, and you jerked your attention back to him. Freed's hand was snaking up the woman's skirt, anyway. No good intel came from simply knowing, like all pirates on Eswood, he liked to fuck.
"Captain Munson, I would be more than preoccupied to discuss anything with you even if I were tasked with nothing to do. If there is something you need, my parents' estate is exactly where you'd left it."
"I know." He tapped his fingers on the table, eyes down, smirk still prominent. The dirt and grime of working on his ship left black smudges on his cheeks. A bit of dried blood stained a bit of his hairline near his temple. His necklace, weighted with a smushed bullet pendant, hung out, the knot around near the front. "Afraid I only remember the route to your bedroom, though."
What the fuck was he doing? What was he thinking?
Your jaw hardened before he even looked up. Ignoring the memories was easy when you knew how much easier it was to not have to deal with him. You kept your leverage that way. If everyone on Eswood found out you'd fucked a pirate captain, not another one would enter a room without talking about it. Let alone with your parents. And when it was considered beneficial to marry you off to the highest bidder across the way, bringing in an influx of cash and new people to network operations with, well…it was a secret best kept as one.
And yet, that was his leverage. It was why you hadn't simply had him thrown out of the chair the second he sat down.
Besides, you could handle your own battles. Usually.
"I need information," he said, pointing two fingers toward the very Captain Freed. "About that prick."
You tipped your chin up. New. Typically, it was the pirates who had the information for you. And Captain Munson wasn't one who pointlessly asked for help, especially as of late.
You flicked your gaze over his shoulder. Over the room. Familiar faces spaced themselves out in the dozens of chairs, but…none of which belonged to his crew.
A jagged twisting sensation settled in your stomach. Eddie wasn’t one to do it alone, either.
"And you'll give me?" you said, trying to shake the feeling. Asking meant entertaining the idea, but you wouldn't lie and pretend he didn't usually have a tantalizing trade in the mix. He knew what you liked, unfortunately.
"Information about him," he answered. His cheeky smirk was back. He knew something you didn't yet.
Not good.
"How can I gauge how much your information is worth based on what you want to know about him?"
"Cause I'll tell it to you first, and you'll understand why the fuck I need the information. And why you do, too." He glanced down at the pearl pendant necklace you had on. The familiar feeling of his fingers grazing your chest as he wrapped the chain around his fingers took a second to get squashed. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Know you well enough, princess. You won't hold out on me."
You clenched your jaw again. An uneasiness boiled in your belly when he turned a serious look toward you. Only saw it a few times before, and that was during meetings where bad news was delivered and the one instance he stumbled through the doors of the inn up the road, bloody. Word got to you fast, and you rushed over, making sure he wasn't actively dying. Turned out, his crew's latest attempt at scoring goods had ended with a heavy loss. A third of his crew, gone. Ship in tatters. A bullet that should've gone point-blank into his skull sat inside a sunken misfired pistol on pure luck alone.
You'd spent the night in his room. Neither of you slept.
Damn it.
"I want their inventory log, crew size, itinerary, and who they're dealing with while they're stopped here."
"Fuck, Eddie." You shook your head, laughing. "They just came into port. Do you seriously think I have that kinda shit?"
"I know you do." He gave you a pointed look. "They've been in port more than a few hours. You have half of that and will have the rest before they finish fucking the entire brothel."
The curse of doing business with someone who knew yours. You looked back at Captain Freed. It wouldn't be too hard figuring some of it out by checking with the right people. But there was never a full guarantee that what you found was genuine. But you could try. If his information was really worth all the trouble. Or the trouble it could bring. Which begged the question…
"Why do you want it?"
Eddie followed your eyes over to Captain Freed. His serious expression remained and the tendon in his jaw twitched.
"Just curious."
Nine times out of ten, you would've taken that answer for what it was. If there was going to be any havoc wreaked, it wouldn't happen on the island. If it did, it was in the hands of the bastards who had the info, not yours. You were clean of doing nothing but your job.
This felt different.
"Will you knowing it fuck something up for me?"
Eddie shifted back in his seat and took another swig of his beer. "You this inquisitive with all you do business with? Or just me?"
You pushed back from the table without even a second thought. "Find the information yourself then–"
"He killed Harry."
You didn't even get to put full weight on your feet. A punch to the gut you tried to withstand–ignore. The legs of your chair scraped silently against the floor as you moved back toward the table, watching the expression harden on Eddie's face. That sharp sense in your stomach doubled and was joined by a hearty feeling of guilt.
So…that’s why he was alone. Here.
Shit.
"Eddie," you said softly. Accidentally.
He shook his head, eyes still glued to Freed.
"We were in Roscoe, following a lead on some fucking tobacco trade bullshit. Some on land, some coming in by sea. Harry was dealing with the shit on land. It was a fucking done deal. Nobody was supposed to be there but a handful of exhausted guards. Told 'em they probably wouldn't even have to fire any pistols; it'd be so easy. But Harry's group missed the expected return time to the ship."
You watched the line of his jaw stay hard. The scar on his brow twitched as his brows furrowed. His leg bounced and fingers tapped on top of the table. He spun a ring with his thumb.
"It was a fucking slaughter when I got there. Not some defensive bullshit. He was fucking gutted and nailed to the wall, (Y/N)." Eddie looked at you again. That uneasiness in your stomach twisted into pain you couldn't pretend you didn't feel. "This was stuffed in his mouth."
Reaching into his pocket, a bloodied handkerchief was thrown across the table. You barely had to nudge it open to see the remnants of a hand etched into it. Nice try was written in thick black ink over it.
You sat back and closed your eyes, a deep breath not doing much to settle the thoughts. You knew what you wanted to say–that was on the tip of your tongue, purely emotionally driven. You'd liked Harry. A lot, really. Did most of your deals with Eddie's crew through his first mate after everything else unfolded. Harry always brought you fruit from the last port they'd been at to sweeten the pot. It worked.
But you couldn't be emotionally driven with shit like this.
"Personal grievances–" You cut yourself off. No point in stating the obvious. It was already written all over Eddie's face. Besides, it was Harry. It was…Eddie. "I'm sorry."
"I lost twenty fucking men to him. Twenty men when I saw no other boat on the harbor except a tradesman ship and the merchant's boat meant to take the tobacco–the one we couldn't risk raiding after that. I went over the plan myself a dozen times after stumbling across the itinerary. We got it during a raid on a small ship a week earlier. A letter noting a change in the fucking schedule. We were the only ones that should've known shit about it, princess."
You took a deep breath, looking back out at the people in the tavern. Anyone else, and you would’ve walked away. Would’ve told him to settle his grievance with Captain Freed himself.
But you didn’t.
"So, what? You think someone fed him that information about the tobacco or…?"
Eddie reached back into his coat and out came another piece of cloth. Red. Velvety. A gold lion etched into it.
Fuck.
"Plucked this up from a lord's cargo ship with food traveling to Roscoe ages ago. Ronnie used it to store extra bullets. When she was grabbing more before rushing outta Roscoe to find that prick's ship, the man selling her the bullets recognized the bag. Asked her if her crew had marooned her since their boat had left the harbor hours earlier."
The sheath of his sword hit the table as he adjusted, once more, how he was sitting.
You looked back down at that familiar lion. A lion that was really fucking shitty to recognize. If Eddie's crew had a bag, it wasn't unheard of that Freed's crew could've gotten one the same way. But Eddie's was dirty, had holes stitched, threads missing from the predator embroidered on it. Even from there, you could see Freed's was pristine.
You said his name slowly, giving him a warning look. He held your gaze with a serious expression that matched your own.
"Whose tobacco were you trying to take in the first place?"
Your heart sped up in your chest. Roscoe had your parents' trade routes through it. They worked with dozens of local and nearby lords and ladies to work their merchandise, their goods, any and all services they required through them. Stealing from a trade route in Roscoe was risky in itself if they weren't one hundred percent sure they weren't stealing from your parents. And if they were, and they had the audacity to try and sell it back to your parents as if it wasn't theirs?
Jon and Samual weren't just strong arms to keep you safe. There was more blood on their hands than even you could count.
But if a lord wanted their own merchandise stolen and resold…
"Lord Aeron," Eddie said.
You slowly lowered your hand and covered the emblem as Sally came by. She topped Eddie's beer off while you shook your head at her curious look.
There were dozens of letters sitting in your desk back with the same gold lion left on the wax seal. Discussions of dates, meetings, inquiries about you were inked in black on the parchment. Interests in meeting for dinner, parties at his home on Nylla. A stone's throw from Roscoe. His father assisted with your parents' trading routes between there and Roscoe for years until he became too ill to oversee it. Aeron took over the work two years ago.
Why would Lord Aeron steal from his own business partners’ routes?
Whose goods sat marked in Lord Aeron's barrels?
Your next breath came slowly as you watched Freed dance out of the tavern with the woman's tits already out and dress partially off of her. Those of his crew with him followed.
"Heard your parents lost a few hefty pieces of merchandise," Eddie said with an edge to his voice. "Unexpectedly."
No fucking way Lord Aeron's trying to fuck with business. Not when he got a decent cut from the work he did. He'd be an idiot to jeopardize that. Unless…
"Inventory log, crew size, itinerary, and whoever they're dealing with while here." Eddie shoved back in his chair and stood. "Same room I'm always in."
"Eddie," you said as he passed by you. This was a hell of a lot bigger if this wasn't just a coincidence unfolding in front of you. Freed was one thing–pirates getting paid to be pirates was only one issue to handle. But Lord Aeron…if he was purposefully trying to undermine your parents' business…shit. If Eddie got in the middle of that to get revenge on Harry–
"He won't die on the island," he said quietly. His hand rested on the pistol hidden under his thick coat. "His blood'll spill in his quarters and his crew can use it to paint their new flag."
Eddie's boots hit the floor hard as he left, his drink untouched.
"Fuck." You lifted your hand and looked down at the bag.
You were scheduled to have a date with Lord Aeron next week after your father sang his praises for increasing the efficiency of the routes.
Relaying the information to your parents was easy. You walked in after the dinner you'd missed and set the handkerchief and bag down on the table. They didn't know about your colorful history with Eddie, so you had to dance around why he'd shared so much with you and why you trusted him at his word. He was a hotheaded prick at times, but he was one of the higher earners for your family and never made a mess of shit when he was in town. Most of the time.
Your parents were the only lord and lady who liked the pirate captain.
For once, it worked out in both of their favors.
"Did he just give you this of own his own good moral standing?" your mother said with a knowing look. You weren't dumb enough to answer honestly.
They knew what you did–Jon and Samual wouldn't be assigned to you if they didn't. They just didn't know the extent of which you did things. Like sneaking onto ships in the dead of night, listening in through the walls of the brothel as the madam downstairs took some new coins to weigh down her wallet. Your mother was smart enough never to ask. Your father was a little more ignorant in that regard.
Saving your skin here meant fucking Eddie over while still, technically, working in his favor. That was doable. He'd get over it.
"He said he'll discuss apt payment with you both once the issue is resolved." You took a deep breath. The coldness in his voice back at Sally's…even if he killed Freed in his quarters on his ship, if he's docked here, that could still mean trouble. "Should anything happen to Captain Freed prematurely, I ask on Captain Munson's behalf that it gets…overlooked."
They both instantly turned curious expressions. You were ready for that. You going up to bat for a random pirate?
Harry wasn't so random.
"Of all of those who help fill the warehouses, I have a soft spot for Harry." You cracked a smile. "He was no lord, but I did enjoy the new fruits he always brought me after excursions."
"Freed’s death would be fair," your mother said, eyes narrowing. "But we must get word to Captain Munson to bar some semblance of patience. We cannot simply assume involvement based on this information alone. We need to meet with Captain Freed and Lord Aeron. Do some reconnaissance."
Eddie wasn't going to like that. Not one damn bit.
"Jon, would you be kind enough to track down Captain Munson? We can meet with him come first light," your mother added.
Lord. Eddie was going to like it significantly less coming from them, too. Dressed in their perfectly pressed gowns and coats. Hair slicked back and glinting jewelry untarnished. Not a scar on them, a scuff in their shoes, a thread out of place on their clothing. Only a mind for business that didn't fondly care for a pirate's way unless it suited them.
Jon glanced your way. Neither he nor Samual knew about Eddie beyond the fact that you used to meet with him at the tavern. They kept your extra business a secret as well. Still knew you were softer for him than others hence why you hadn't turned him away earlier. And the times before that.
But they didn’t know.
"Yes, ma'am." He nodded.
"And Captain Freed? Do we know his current whereabouts?"
"Where all pirates go when they touch land," Samual said.
"Find out all the information they let slip there. Relay it in the morning." Your mother stood. "Your father and I will mull this all over tonight. Figure out the truth and where Lord Aeron lies within it. Greedy prick."
Your father put his hand on your mother's back as she walked towards the door. You listened to your heart race with every step they got closer to it until they finally disappeared. Jon and Samual lingered for a moment as if they were waiting for you to do something rash. You wouldn't. Not until they left.
When they did, you waited an hour. Replayed the necessary information. Set up the dots and tied them together where they came as one. Then, when the house went still and the town was only a hum of the drunks left awake, you slipped from your bedroom window. Down the tree, past the guards that weren't at their posts, and right back into town. Toward the harbor.
There was information to collect and relay.
Nicholas at the blacksmiths, half drunk at Sally's, had a crew size–a hundred weapons purchased in bulk to be ready by the end of the week. Paid extra with gold coins. An estimate, but given the size of Freed's ship, a hundred was a decent assumption. Dahlia, who'd taken over her father's butcher shop, had a high order of meat to fill–again, by the end of the week. Lisa at the brothel, who strutted out after taking care of two of Freed's men, said they were interested in striking up a fantastic deal with your parents while they were there.
And Wilm was passed out at his station at the docks. An eye paid for by some of the visitors to report any wrongdoings that could be done to their ships. He made easy money when he wasn't drunk off his ass. But you liked him drunk. Made it damn easier to strut past him to stare up at the bloody hand splattered on black, hidden in the night sky.
Freed was a braggart. Showed off not just to his crew, but to those around him in Sally's. To those who'd listen. Hadn't changed his story to even bother fitting the details and only seemed to make Eddie's story make more sense. Especially when Freed had loudly boasted about how easy it'd been to cut down the fools opposing them. Like a knife in butter.
He was arrogant and prideful. Unstoppable with a lord in his pocket.
So? Not a soul was left to guard his ship.
The lock going into his quarters was easy to pick.
You just had to make sure everything was left exactly how you'd found it. Including the inventory scroll you copied, and the crew manifesto, which confirmed–by a rough glancing estimate–that the guess of a hundred people was correct. No itinerary was written down. No notes. Not unexpected. Not helpful, though. But you could muster a guess on the basics given other information.
Now, you just had to do something stupid. Not as stupid as breaking into a pirate's ship who brutally gutted another. But still…stupid.
Sneaking into Fiona's Inn was significantly harder than any ship. It wasn't easy bouncing around the different sections to avoid eyes of those who might connect why you were there. But eventually, you made it. Going home would've been the right move, but you couldn't have him hear any of it from your parents. He wouldn't take well to it from them. Probably wouldn't even from you.
Still, you knocked.
Still, you waited for him to open the door, left in nothing but his black pants. Hair wet, shirt discarded, jacket off, weapons on the dresser behind him. A washing basin full of dirty water sat in the center of the room.
Not entirely similar as that night, yet as he stepped aside, it was hard not to think about the last time you'd walked into his room at the inn. You glanced at the bed as he shut the door. Normally, someone like him locking the door behind him would've given you pause. But even through it all, there was still trust.
He crossed his arms, and you tried not to look at the collection of scars and tattoos littering his bare skin.
"You get it all?"
You nodded.
He held out a hand and looked at the small bag hanging from your shoulder.
"I can't give it to you."
The betrayal snapped across his features with just a twitch of his jaw and a narrowing of his eyes. You took a deep breath and held your ground.
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because you intend to kill him."
"He fucking butchered Harry," he snapped, taking one step forward. Anger blazed in his eyes.
"He can't die yet, Eddie." You took a step toward him to show you weren't scared. He couldn't intimidate you, whether he was trying to or not. You wouldn't let him. "If the shit about him and Aeron is true, he needs to be alive to corroborate that before my parents act on it."
"We had a fucking deal," he seethed.
You took another step toward him. Your shoulder touched his as you passed him. Staying would do nothing but piss him off more. You'd already told him what he needed to know. Jon would tell him the same thing in the morning, and he'd have to understand.
"You'll get it. Just not tonight." You looked down at the skull tattoo on his bicep. Harry had the same one in the same spot. It was blurry and faded on Eddie. "They're in town for at least a week, so you'd have to wait anyway."
A strong hand landed on your bicep as you took another step toward the door. You ended up staggering back before you could finish it. No, you ended up losing a bit of air from your lungs as your back hit the wall, and you could smell the leathery smell of the soap Eddie used in the bath. His chest moved with every quick breath he took as he stepped close enough to practically pin you in place.
His voice was a whisper as he spoke beside your ear.
"He butchered him, (Y/N). He's gonna see my ship here. He's gonna fucking know. I can't let him walk around fucking, drinking, and goddamn living after doing that."
"And you risk losing another should you kill Freed before we can confront Aeron. He'll just pay another to take Freed's place." You kept your shoulders squared and chin up. Your voice wasn't as steady as it could've been. "All of this risks getting fucked up if we don't take care of Aeron."
Eddie's laugh came out like knives. Breathy, sarcastic, tired.
"Aeron." He tilted his head, his mouth grazing your cheek. "Ain't that one of the pretty boys trying to fucking buy you?"
"I can't be bought," you seethed.
You felt his smile widen against your cheek.
"I know." His hand twitched on your arm. "Does he? Imagine what bullshit he might have a barbarian like Freed do to get you as his prize." His other hand skated down over the strap of your bag, head tilting slightly. His voice fell into a whisper. A softer, warning one. "Don't make me have to take it from you, princess."
"We both know you won't." You glanced down at where his hand rested on your bag. One flick of his wrist, and he'd have it open. But you didn't move. "You wouldn't jeopardize what little good standing you still have left with me."
"I still have some left?" He feigned surprise, fingers playing with the button on your bag. He pulled back just enough to let you see the mocking expression of disbelief.
"Would I be here if there wasn't?" you murmured.
The truth of the matter boiled in your gut.
Eddie's fingers were rough against your neck as they found their way there. There was no stopping the twitch at the sudden sensation. His thumb went along the center, one move away from stealing the life coursing through your body. Yet his palm continued north and laid across your jaw. The calloused pad of his thumb swiped over your bottom lip.
You stared down at his, watching how his mouth parted and half-lidded eyes stayed glued to you. Such a familiar expression. One that sent memories a blaze, old feelings brought anew, and that never-ending feeling of desire that only seemed to boil in your stomach.
He always fucked like he was dying in the morning.
A hard draw to ignore.
Until you remembered Captain Hallen. A newer visitor on the island who'd yet to meet with your parents. Rumored to have information tied to dozens of political figures. Supposedly, he kept a log on his ship with every dirty detail in it. A quick grab from the massive ship–dead of night, nobody would've seen you. Only problem was, you couldn't be the one who delivered the notebook to your parents. You thought Eddie would appreciate that good fortune.
He hadn't.
He told Jon about it in exchange for insider information on where a potential haul was coming in a few islands over. Told Jon before you could even confirm the layout of Hallen's ship.
Jerked it right out from under you like a goddamn rug.
And what'd happened? Your parents talked to Hallen about it in an attempt to strike a mutually beneficial deal, and Hallen responded with a simple I'll think about it before taking off to search for another haul. He hadn't been back since.
"It would've gotten you killed," Eddie had said when you finally confronted him on it. "You seem to fucking forget you're not invincible. Don't fucking make me witness the aftermath of your personal mortality reminder. Not again."
"You undermined me."
Three words. They seethed from you. Settled in that empty room just as they settled in your stomach. Beside that old feeling trickling its way lower. His thumb swiped at your mouth again and drew your lips apart. Same way he'd do it in his bed, his mattress beneath you, bare skin against skin, and legs tangled underneath the covers. You still tingled from head to toe, tired eyes watching the slew of emotions remain subdued on his face before he leaned it.
Leaning in. It'd be so easy to lean in now. So easy to fall back onto the bed with him. So easy to give in to the yearning snaking around in your gut. He'd want to. He'd fucking lavish in it, you wanting him still. You giving into that clawing desire that so many times had you moaning into pillows so nobody else knew.
"What would all those lords pining after you fucking think if they knew how much you enjoyed my cock?" he'd whispered beside your ear mid-grunt, hands on your hips, hips flush against your ass.
"What would your crew think if they knew you're jeopardizing their whole livelihood just to get your dick wet for free?" you'd shot back, fists full of the pillows you'd just been biting down on. Another moan slipped out despite your efforts to keep the room silent.
He'd answered without words, one hand snaking down between your legs. You came again, shuddering and whining. A potency you'd never been able to recreate on your own since. Nor with someone else.
You'd tried, but nobody made your body yearn to be touched quite like he did.
Which was why you held your ground. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of falling onto your back. That wasn't giving him a mere step; that was giving him the length of his ship. And you'd never fucking live it down if you gave in now.
"Why even bother coming if you were just gonna cocktease me with what I need?" he murmured, fingers flicking your bag again.
Well, this wasn't helping your cause with him, was it? Skirting around the truth would work, except he'd see through it when the truth did inevitably come out.
"It…" What? It was complicated? You didn't want him to hear it from someone else and think you'd done the very same thing he'd done to you? Did you really want him to know that? He'd have that stance over you after that–that leverage. If you were considerate here–even after everything–where else would you be considerate toward him and his crew?
Would he start approaching you again with inquiries? Demands? He might expect insider information and leeway during any disputes. More pay, even with damaged goods. Could make you look weak around everyone else who you had to be strong around.
Fuck.
You played yourself.
Unless you could hold it over him, instead.
You tipped up a smile. One that sold the clever gears slowly returning to their duties inside your head. That dastardly feeling remained in your gut as his fingers skimmed across your jaw, but you could ignore it just a little longer.
"Because I–"
Oh, how trust saved you. Anyone else, and you would've been caught red-handed. Although, anyone else and you probably wouldn't have been visiting them in their room, alone, in the dead of night.
What would've been a simple barging in to relay a message let you be spared by the surprisingly sturdy lock on the door. Three loud knocks preceded it, a large fist shaking the wood. Two more followed when the door jerked and didn't open.
Fuck.
Eddie's hands fell as he stepped back, eyeing you as he moved toward the door.
"Oi, Captain Munson. Gotta message. Know you're in there, open the fuck up." Jon's voice carried through. Then, another knock. "Your fist can spare you for a sec. Let's go."
The panic wasn't enough to freeze your legs. There was a stiffness to your knees as you watched Eddie reach for the knob, and he gave you all of one pointed look, a glance at the doors just behind you, and five more seconds to slip through them. Slats on the front left you in a dim closet. You could see out, but they couldn't see in–thankfully. Empty hangers hung beside you, threatening to jostle and give away your position. You held your breath–and held in the curse–as Eddie threw the door open with little care for Jon on the other side.
Your heart pounded in your chest as Jon stepped forward–into the room.
Fuck.
"Lord and Lady (Y/L/N) will see you tomorrow morning. At the break of dawn." Jon looked past the edge of the wall–probably at Eddie's bed–and then did another once over. "About the Freed shit. Got it?"
"Will they?" Eddie asked, arms crossing his chest. He cocked a brow as he sized Jon up. "What–oh, what–could that possibly be about?"
Jon stepped closer–too close if this were anywhere else. Eddie tilted his head as Jon's hand rested lazily on his sword. A threat and nothing more, but one most pirates wouldn't tolerate. Eddie hardened his jaw.
"Next time you happen to stumble across any information like this, you bring it to me or Samual. Understood? Leave her the fuck out of it."
Eddie's mouth twitched.
"I'll bring my information to whoever I fucking want to." Eddie dropped his gaze over Jon's tall frame. "So, if that's all you're here to waste my time with, you can tell the Lord and Lady I'll be there right on time to discuss how exactly I'll get to gut Freed. Now get the fuck out."
Jon didn't move. He ran his hand along the handle of his sword as he looked back around. Back at Eddie's bed. At whatever else was out of sight that made him do a full three-sixty. His hand stayed right where it was.
So did Eddie.
"Do you think it'll work?" Jon asked when he was finally facing Eddie again. A mocking tone settled into his words. Eddie didn't answer him. "Our job's to be observant–Samual and me. We keep an eye on who comes close to Lady (Y/N), when they do, when they don't. Why they do."
Jon looked Eddie over like he was nothing but a piece of moldy bread trying to pass as fresh on a royal man's table. He laughed dryly as Eddie watched, bored.
"If you play the game right, she'll lift her dress for you?" Jon scoffed. "What do you think about while holing yourself up in here alone at night, fucking your fist? You pretend it's her?" Jon stepped closer. Threateningly close. "It's sad watching you try and pretend you could ever fit into her world, Munson."
There was an overwhelming silence. Your heart was loud enough, it was entirely possible they could both hear it. Damn near thought they did when Eddie glanced in your direction. Just a quick look. A look that told every secret you shared behind closed doors. Every whisper, every touch, every whimper for more.
"Is that it?" He stepped aside and held out one hand. Pointed it toward the door. "Because I'd much love to finish what you interrupted." He pursed his lips and cracked a smile. "You think she'd prefer it fast and rough or deep and slow? I go back and forth on it, and I really just can't decide."
Jon's sword glinted in the lighting. Just a mere inch of it. Another thin and sharp line of metal drew through the air. Small, short. It pressed against Jon's throat before he even finished his step forward. He swallowed hard as Eddie closed the gap between them.
"You underestimate her if you think she can't make her own decisions," he muttered. Should he see the irony in his own words, you weren't sure. You clutched the strap of your bag as he looked at Jon as if he were nothing more than a fly buzzing too close to him and had fallen expectedly into the honey trap set out. "Until she tells me to piss off, I'm gonna bring whatever the fuck I want to her. I'm gonna talk, tease, flirt, drink, dance, fuck her if it pleases me. Pleases her–which it damn well will when I'm the one doing it. Now run on back home and tell them I'll be there at dawn before I decide to change my mind and paint the floor with your blood."
He drew the blade along Jon's throat until the tip pressed up into his chin. Jon's hand flinched on his sword. He had no damn chance. One slight move, the blade would press up, and death would be there for yet another visit. He'd do it, too. If Jon aimed to kill him, Eddie would meet him halfway–with you in the closet or not. A threat's a threat.
Neither were stupid enough to do it, though.
You let out a held, burning, painful breath as Jon stepped back and walked out the door. Not another threatening word was said.
It shut hard behind him. Eddie locked it again.
"What the fuck was that?" you asked, slipping out from the closet.
"Hm? He started it." Eddie spun, eyes right back on you. "You should give him a raise for being so magnificent at his job." He walked toward you slowly. "Really. You have the most observant guard on Eswood."
You stared at the knife he still brandished. His footsteps echoed in the small room with every stride that brought him closer. The sharp edge, the pointed tip, the worn black handle, even the ring-covered fingers holding it aloof. He pressed the tip to his finger and spun the knife, eyes up on you.
"You really have some audacity, don't you?" you asked.
"Me?" Eddie laughed and did a dramatic look back at the door. "Was there no air in the closet, princess? Need I point out that he could've said his piece and left?"
"And you could've left it. Let it lie." Eddie stopped spinning the knife.
"Princess," he said quietly. Quieter than a whisper. "You know better than that."
You dared to blink. An unfortunate decision when you opened your eyes; the edge of the knife was pressed to your throat. A surge of adrenaline shot through your veins as you staggered back a step until your back hit something hard. Nothing important. Nothing substantial. Just hard and cold, and there was Eddie's hand, curved against your jaw, tipping your head back. The knife moved, and a flat side was cold against your cheek.
"Eddie," you muttered, losing a grip on a stern tone faster than you could save it.
"You remember the night of the summer solstice festival ages ago?" Your heart ticked faster. Something that wasn't nerves kicked in your stomach. "You had the bravery to try and steal from me–me, princess." He tilted his head and drew the blade lower across your cheek. "Maybe I should've told Jon you weren't out with your parental-approved friends all night."
It was difficult to swallow around the knot in your throat. A glint in Eddie's eyes brought back the night in a flash. It felt like a dream–part of you even wondered if it had been. Some midnight fantasy that broke free from the nets of your mind. But it wasn't.
Eddie had a log of another ship nearby that you needed to obtain for another captain. He refused to give it to you, even when you offered a bribe, so you said fuck it. Went and took care of it yourself. He was supposed to be out drinking on the beach, occupied by his crew, the whores there, the drinks, the food–anything else. But you'd underestimated his own loyalty. Even to what you thought was just a way to pass the time and boost his own ego for him.
You'd gotten into his quarters, cabinet open when you heard the creaking of the floorboards. The knife to your neck came next. It stayed as he hauled you back toward his desk, talking casually about how he finally got to show you his section on his ship. Walked you back until you were against the edge of his desk–until he reached down and gently tugged the page you'd needed from between your fingers.
"What the fuck am I gonna do with you now, princess?" he asked quietly.
The coiling urge that found itself settling where your dress started to bunch wasn't just a surprise to you. Maybe it was the open windows behind him, looking out onto the beach just hundreds of feet away from everyone. Maybe it was the adrenaline and the sultry edge to his voice. Maybe it was the curiosity of what came next–the threat of his words weighing heavier than the blade caressing your cheek.
Alone in his quarters, the page in his hand–no public example needed to be made.
When you should've been out with friends, drinking safely, engaging with potential partners in a perfectly civilized and poised manner, you had your dress hoisted up and legs open as Eddie fucked you on his desk. The mocking in his voice only made it worse when you came, knife at your cheek, the top of your dress pulled down, and hands back to brace yourself against every deep thrust.
The tip slammed down into the desk just beside your head when your elbows gave out, and Eddie had you by the jaw as he fucked you through your climax. His desk creaked under you and your eyes went from the windows framing him, to him, to his unlocked door behind you. You clutched onto the edge behind your head as his fingers found your clit, and a moan slipped out rather loudly as you came again, eyes shutting and legs hugging Eddie closer.
"You don't fucking steal from me," he murmured after he came, hips flush against you, hands skating over your sides and up to your chest. "I'll fuck you against the glass for everyone to see if you even think of trying that again."
Cheekily, you answered with, "Is that a promise?"
He made you cum again, his cock still inside you, one hand on your throat and the other down on your clit.
"Fucking 'course it is." His thumb ran over your mouth. "Show everyone that you're just as big of a degenerate as we all are, princess." He gave you a crooked smirk as he slowly moved his hips. "Let them see how hard you cum 'cause they're watching."
The knife fell and disappeared back into wherever Eddie was hiding it beneath his clothing. You snapped back to reality as his fingers trailed over your bag once more, and you had to, a little embarrassingly, shake off the memory.
"'You underestimate her if you think she can't make her own decisions,'" you spat at him, squaring your shoulders and taking a step forward. "That's what I'm talking about, Eddie."
His eyes flicked up. The smile on his lips wasn't there anymore. Neither was the glint in his eye.
"Maybe you should take your own fucking advice." You shoved past him, going toward the door. You kept a firm hand on your bag as you went. "You'll get the info you asked for if you aid in my family's plans."
Eddie's brow perked up the instant you said aid. New terms. He hadn't agreed to those, and you weren't going to give him a second to argue it. You already had your hand on the doorknob.
"You can act all pissy if you want, but you still came here, so I'd hear it from you." His voice was low and smooth. Confident. Irritatingly. "Didn't want me to think you fucked me over."
You squeezed the knob tighter and jerked the door open.
"See you tomorrow, princess," he said as the door shut behind you.
Your steps were angry as you made a poor attempt at sneaking downstairs.
Bastard. Rotten, dirty, annoying, frustrating bastard. Even with the information in your pocket, the night was not going in the direction you'd hoped for. Quite the damn opposite, in fact.
A TEASER / Sir Simon Riley x Lady Reader / A Medieval AU
Lightning dances across the sky, the light strikes and blinds your eyes. The deep red velvet of your dress is ruined by the rain and mud when your knees fall under you. Your cries are drowned out by the roar of the thunder as you shake from the cold.
All you had known, the world that had been promised for you had been torn from your trembling hands. God had abandoned you as quickly as the sun had abandoned the sky. You are plagued by the darkness, futilely praying to be saved, to wake up back in the safety of your castle and its walls.
Then warmth floods in your arm as a man in black armor sinks to your level, his knee digging into the mire. You cannot see his face, the intricate design of his helmet somehow scares you more than you already are. The skull helmet shines as lightning brightens the sky momentarily before he pulls up his visor and stares at you with concern. His nose and mouth are covered with a black cloth, but his eyes are aflame in the darkness. Only softening when they see how helpless you are as you shrink away from him.
Your savior.
I plan on publishing the first chapter on Wednesday once I've had time to write a few more chapters to have readied. I am so excited to share this with you, it's been on my mind for the past few weeks and I finally wrote the first chapter in a hurry last night.
The tag list for this series is open, if you would like to be notified of story updates, please comment below!
Since getting the job as a sewing teacher last week she had been happier than ever before. She didn’t need to attend those stupid etiquette classes with her mother or spend the whole afternoon walking with her younger sisters.
Of course, y/n loved them but having only 16 years old and 11 years old as a company was rather depressing. She knew things would be different if her older sister Odette was still here. Before she moved to France they would have sleepovers and ride horses together around their property, with only a 2 year age gap, y/n was confident to say she was her best friend.
Everything was just happening too fast, in the last month Phillip wasn’t living with them anymore- for he had taken the family’s old manor- and y/n had to move away from the town she grew up to this new village.
Her parents were also starting to have awful conversations with her about the need to find suitors soon, or else she would be too old to be married off. The first time they brought that up was after the disaster in the church with Harry, her father said no man would ever want a woman who cannot be graceful and respectful around, needless to say, his words weren’t the only thing hurting her.
Lord Leonel was a mean man, and he was also a mean father. Whenever one of the children would misbehave he would get physical, beating them with a wooden spoon on their thighs, sometimes they also would have to sit alone in a dark room to ‘think about their sins.
The church day, almost two weeks ago, was the last day she was hit, but the sting was felt for more than three days. When Harry delivered bread to her room he was so caring about her knee, he just didn’t know that wasn’t the only reason she was limping, she was just too embarrassed to say anything.
Besides all this hell happening inside the manor, she was relieved she was able to go to the main street on the afternoons and spend time with other people, and of course, two days a week she was free to go wherever she wanted, y/n just had to be precautious with the guard who normally stays at the door of the sewing classes.
She had to be even more careful now since she was gonna meet Harry at the treehouse for reading lessons, the forbiddenness of it made her more thrilled. Y/n wasn’t a very risky person, she never enjoyed the feeling of adrenaline until she met Harry at the river that day. They had barely talked to each other before –just some small glances at the church, and when he found her in her room –something about him just brought her comfort, after a long time she was feeling excited about something.
Right now she was picking some materials she was going to use to help him: a few sheets of paper, pens, and a book. Of course, he wouldn't be able to actually read it, but a big part of literacy was to listen to stories, to first understand the structure of the language.
Harry was already phonemic cognizant, he could understand and speak every sound properly, now he just needed to reach phonics recognition, that's when someone can connect the sound to the letters and syllabus.
Y/n was confident and eager to begin, she hoped Harry was too.
The girl was looking at the wooden walls of Harry's treehouse, she didn't know if it was ok to climb up without him, but she was getting creeped out staying down in the forest alone, she had read a good amount of books too know nothing good happens when you are wandering around a willow forest.
She took one of the worn-out toys left in the corner of the room, this one was a little pig, by its side lay a cow. The Styles siblings probably enjoyed playing with farm animals, it would make sense since, besides the bakery, they also had a lot of sheep and other small animals making the Styles’ garden their home.
She couldn’t help but imagine a small and young Harry playing in this same forest and being silly with his childhood friends. He seemed to be a very uptight man, but he had so much kindness in himself, that she wondered when he had to develop toughness.
A loud noise coming from below the treehouse pulled her from her thoughts, she got her heavy book in hand, ready to throw it at any uninvited guests, but when a familiar face appeared from the bottom of the stairs she serenely put the book down. “Hi, Harry,” she said, “I hope it wasn’t inconvenient to be out here by myself, it was scary waiting alone down there.”
He smiled at her, placing his forearms on the treehouse’s floor and pushing his body off the stairs, standing tall in front of her figure, who was sitting on the old rug. “Hello, my lady, I’m sorry I made you wait for so long, I had to take care of the sheep after work, they did quite a number on me, as you can see.”
She took a moment to look at his clothes, they were indeed filled with grass and his left cheek had a bit of dirt, but she guessed he didn’t notice that. Y/n placed her hand in her dress’s pocket, taking the handkerchief he had given to her, “Come sit, Harry, you got something on your face.”
He looked at her with wide eyes and started to rub his face. “Fuck, I knew I should have a bath, but I didn’t wanna leave you here all alone, fuck!”
Y/n laughed, “It’s totally ok! please sit, I can clean it for you.”
Harry sat on his knees in front of her, hand close to his tight and cheeks red. He had never looked cuter to her than right now, well, it was no surprise, since Harry was always pleasing to look at.
She gently grabbed the fabric, bringing it to his face and taking away all the dirt from his soft skin, she had never this close to his face before. He had a lot of small scars on his forehead and little moles scattered around it. His eyes were also very charming, a beautiful shade of green adorning and mixing with the brown of his hair.
He wasn’t just handsome, and pretty, very pretty.
“You didn’t throw it away,” he said bluntly after y/n was done.
She looked down at the cloth in her hand, feeling her cheeks getting warm, “Yeah, I didn’t. I like the material,” she lied.
“Really? It's a very fibrous and rough textile.”
“Yeah, just how I like it,” Y/n told him quickly, trying to change the subject, “can we start? I need to be home earlier than normal today.” She turned her head away from him, grabbing her bag full of books and pouring all of them on the treehouse floor, “here, take this one,” she handed him a very thin yellow book, one of her favourites. The cover was filled with drawings of children and birds, in big capitalized letters: “The absurd ABC, by Walter Crane.”
On every page was written a tiny poem about each letter of the alphabet, this book made it easier for her to memorize the letters and what words could be formed with them, she truly hoped it could make Harry's apprenticeship easier. When he became advanced with letters and sentences she would give him Lamb’s Tales by Shakespeare, she already had an entire plan to have him read by next spring!
Harry started skimming the book, observing all the pictures, and trying to connect all those words with the text. He looked at her confused, “So, what do you exactly plan for us to do with it? I already know some letters and small words, but that’s it.”
He sounded embarrassed while saying that, which made Y/n soften a bit, “well, since you already know the alphabet I was thinking that maybe you could try writing the sentences from the book while I read them to you, this way you can connect what you are writing with the sound of each word and syllable!”
“My writing is horrible, though. I only know how to write the quantity of bread the customers order,” he told her, looking at the book with uneasiness.
“It’s alright, we’re here to learn,” Y/n reassured him as she handed him a piece of paper and a pencil. “Come on, sit by my side,” she placed the alphabet book on her lap, Harry sitting close to her with paper in his hand, she opened the book to page one, “This is the ABCD page, I’m gonna read out loud every word as you copy from the book, ok?”
“Yeah, we can start, darling.”
She couldn’t help but feel her cheeks get warm with the word “darling”
“A for the apple, or alphabet pie, which all get a slice of. Come taste it and try,” she said softly, looking at him and watching him writing the words, when the sentence was completely she dragged her finger on the paper he wrote, reading the words again, more slowly this time, “A for the apple, or alphabet pie, which all get a slice of," she said to him, emphasizing the As."
"The letter A is the first in the alphabet and is the one we make at the beginning of our throat, so whatever you hear these sounds, you should know the letter A is involved."
"Damn, reading and writing are harder than I thought it would be," Harry confessed, looking at his poor handwriting on the brownish paper.
“The beginning is always more difficult, but after some time it just becomes natural,” she smiled sweetly at him.
“Well, I’m gonna believe you. What’s the next letter? B, right?’ he asked
“Yes! B is the baby who gave Mr. Bunting full many a long day’s rabbit skin hunting.”
Harry observed the book, copying each word as he listened to y/n’s voice, which was truly sweet, matching her face and personality perfectly. Y/n made him feel comfortable asking questions, he was starting to believe she genuinely enjoyed spending time with him.
But It was foolish to think that, she certainly would grow tired of him. She was a lady, she probably just wanted to feel free for a few moments of the day.
Harry had a lot of pride in his being, but he wasn’t embarrassed to admit that if her wishes were to just use his company as a distraction, he would gladly do it. She was just so pretty. Weirdly, he felt protective of her, maybe because he just experienced a lot of this during his childhood. He had lost count of how many times he had to sneak his and Gemma’s friends to their house because of abusive parents, he just didn’t want her to go through it too.
Something about the way her mother slammed her knee into the pew told him that maybe they were even worse in the manor.
“Harry?” she called him, “am I going too fast? You haven’t said anything in a while, do you want me to read the page again?”
Always so caring, Harry thought.
“I’m sorry, darling, I got distracted, please, read it again,” y/n laughed at him and went back to reading, this time Harry gave her his full attention.
The young couple spent two hours at the treehouse studying, at the end of the day Harry was already able to identify and read the syllables ba, be, ca, ce, da and de. They had accomplished reading until letter E, having to stop before starting letter F because Y/n said she, unfortunately, had to go home.
“I can walk you back,” Harry said when they landed on the forest, ground, taking the bad of books from her hand, so she wouldn’t have to carry them, he was surprised to find out how heavy the bag was, but he quickly got his composure back, not wanting to show any kind of fragility in front of her.
“Oh please, don’t be silly! Your house is only 15 minutes away, I wouldn’t wanna make you walk to the main street with me, It’s ok,” Y/n told him, the afternoon sunlight lighting her cheek.
“I insist, it’s not safe to walk around alone,”
“So you are implying that I’m a damsel in distress?” she said, raising one eyebrow
Harry took a step back, “What? No, of course not!,” he started rambling, “You completely got me down the other day when you threw your shoe at me, I’m sure you are very strong just-”
“Hey, it’s ok, I’m joking,” she laughed, jumping from an outgrowing root on the floor, “you are funny when you are nervous.”
The man blushed, “I don’t think I want to walk you back anymore,” he said teasingly, which made the girl laugh.
They both walked in silence, making small talk. Harry noticed the girl was quite clumsy, always stumbling around, it was funny to watch, but he grew worried when she tripped on a big rock and almost fell, almost because Harry was promptly to catch her forearm and brought her closer to him, “Hey, ya need to take care, or else you gonna get hurt,” he said, quickly letting go of her arm when he noticed their proximity.
“I’m sorry, it’s just this stupid dress, I can’t see where I’m going,” y/n murmured in embarrassment, “I’m sorry again.”
“Don’t need to be sorry, it’s okay.” he comforted her, "You don't have any pants you could wear for when we go to the treehouse?"
Y/n shook her head, "No, I'm not allowed to wear pants, which is really maddening. I love dresses, but not the ones with so many layers, it's like I'm drowning in fabric."
"I think I understand your struggle, when we were kids, Gemma and I would play tag and she was always the first to lose because of her ridiculous puffy dress until one day she came home crying and mom sewed her a simple dress, so she could run with the other kids."
"That's so sweet! Your mom seems quite lovely." They had left the wood, now they were taking a ground path behind Harry's property so they could get to the main street without being noticed by the villagers. " I believe Gemma never lost at tag after that?"
"Oh no, after she was able to run in all her capacities I was the one left behind, the older kids would always tag me, probably because of my wobbly legs," he laughed.
"You had wobbly legs? You seem so strong now!"
"Well love, thank you for flattering me like that," he winked at her, "I had to start working at the bakery when I was ten, and flour bags aren't the easiest thing to carry, so I had to mature some strength "
That statement made y/n feel hotness on her body, the thought of his legs and arms muscles under his clothes was just very intriguing. She wished he could feel his hand on her like before, when they were still in the forest, it was just for a second, but it felt like it left a mark on her.
It wasn't like she wasn't touched by a man before, she had kissed two people in her 19 years of life, but it was only that, nothing further. She would listen to stories about her girl cousins’ intimate lives and feel very anxious. She knew it wasn't right to have pleasure before marriage, but all the things she heard from her cousins, about how bad their partners made them feel in bed left a bad taste on her tongue. If she was to get married to someone who didn't know how to pleasure her for the rest of her life, it was more than fair for her to enjoy some while she was unwed.
Y/n didn’t know why she was having these kinds of thoughts right now, but she almost seemed to feel dizzy near Harry, she knew it was stupid, she didn’t want to act like a ridiculous girl, especially while she was having a walk with him! She really needs to put her mind back in its place.
“You’re alright? My lady?” Harry asked, concerned, “You seem a bit distracted.”
“Oh, no! I’m alright, just thinking about the family dinner,” she lied. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie, she was indeed apprehensive about whatever her father would try to make a big deal out of.
“Is it making you anxious?”
“A bit, yeah” she answered, “nothing good comes out of those, last time we had a family dinner he told us we would be moving here.”
Harry looked at her with his eyebrows raised, “you don’t like it here? I thought you enjoyed Holmes Chapel more than your old manor.”
“I mean, anywhere living with my parents is an awful place,” she murmured, “but at least in my old manor I had my older brother Philip and the cooks’ children to spend time with, I feel like I only have my sisters now.”
"You have me," he said, seeming genuine, "even if it is just for a couple of hours every other day."
The girl didn't know what to reply to, she kept walking looking at the ground, feeling rather shy when she said, "I enjoy spending time with you, Harry, more than I thought I would."
"Your feelings are reciprocal, my lady." He told her, smiling to himself. "I also feel lonely here."
"Really? You always talked about your childhood friends, I thought you were still in touch with them?"
"No, most of them married off and moved to villages. I'm happy for them, but I often feel like the one who was left behind."
"Do you wish to be like them?" Y/n asked, finally looking at him and meeting his eyes, "Married, I mean. Do you want a family of your own?"
The lady found herself feeling very eager for his answer. It's not like they could be together, but knowing Harry would like to be a family man made her heart warm. He was so caring to her, that his wife would surely be a lucky woman.
A quick thought crossed her mind, one where she was laid in a field full of flowers, with Harry by her side, a beautiful ring adorning her finger as he whispered: "Sweet bride" in her ear. She was fast to move those thoughts away, she was aware of the laws of marrying anyone who doesn't belong to the kingship, and Harry probably wouldn’t be interested in having her as a partner.
"You're quite absent-minded, huh?" Harry said suddenly, laughing at her surprised face, "It's not the first time I see you wandering around your own head."
She felt her cheeks warm, again. This happened a lot when she was with him. "I'm so sorry, I don't mean to be rude! What were we talking about? Family, right?"
"Don't need to say sorry, it's alright. And yes, you asked if I wanted a family, the answer is yes, I would love to raise a couple of kids." He confessed.
"It's a bit hard to believe no mother had offered marriage arrangements on behalf of their daughter to you, though."
"Well, I got a few, but I didn't feel any kind of connection to them," he shyly admitted.
"Oh, do you want to get married for love?" Y/n asked surprisingly.
"Yeah, of course, don't you?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.
"I do, but it's not an option for me, I will probably be married off to someone my father wants to do business with," her voice filled with sadness, the kind of sadness you learn to accept over the years, "it's alright though, it's what happened to my mother and my sister-in-law."
Y/n didn't miss when Harry's fist was tight in a fist, "You aren’t some kind of merchandise, you should've settled for this kind of situation," he said angrily.
"Us women don't have many options, Harry," she said harshly, she didn't like the tone he used, as if she hadn't got into many fights with her father about it, as if she hadn't go through the physical consequences of starting an argument with him.
Y/n was raised to be somebody's wife, she wasn't raised to be the best version of herself or succeed at her goals. She knew this wasn't by any form a happy life, but what hope she got? That's why she would daydream about the baker's boy by her side, those silly thoughts were the only thing keeping her sane since she moved here.
Every time her father would call her, Y/n would panic, thinking he made a marriage deal and she would have to be someone's partner, she would have to bear someone's children, who wouldn't be her own, since they wouldn't carry her name or her family's name.
His breathing suddenly got heavier, she stopped walking, which made Harry alert, the angriness on his face quickly changing with worry. "My lady, what is wrong?"
Y/n tried to focus on her breathing and her surroundings. She could feel the sun on her skin, she could hear the bird, she could see goats running around, she was here with Harry and she was safe.
She didn't know what to call those, but she would have these episodes where her body would shut down, her mind would fill with horrible situations, and the conclusion was always the same: her losing herself in her sadness.
"I'm sorry if I made you upset, I swear I wasn't mad at you," Harry blurted, trying to make eye contact with her, but her eyelids were closed, "are you scared of me? I can go and call my sister, she can keep you company if you don't want to be with me?"
"Hey, please, talk to me," he held her elbows, "is it okay to keep my hands here?"
Y/n nodded, aiming her attention at his voice, breathing in and out until she found herself stable enough to open her eyes, quickly noticing Harry's worried face.
"I-I'm sorry," was the first thing she said, taking a step behind and cleaning her cheek, which she realized was filled with tears, "I didn’t mean for this to happen, I'm sorry."
If she thought she didn't have a chance with Harry now she was sure of it, he wouldn't want to be near a madwoman. She was shocked when he got close to her, gently pulling her body near him again, "is it ok if we are close?" He asked, speaking softly.
She looked at him confused, "Yes, why?"
"My mom shuts down like you sometimes," he held both of her forearms, keeping her still in front of him, "she says it helps her to have someone holding her like that, she feels secure." He started breathing in and out dramatically, making her join him, "Yeah, just like that, you just need to breathe."
He locked his eyes on her, smiling softly, his hands caressing the fabric on her arm, "You're shaking, are you cold, or just nervous?"
"Just nervous," she said in a small voice, feeling embarrassed over her outburst.
"It's alright now, darling," he told her, cleaning her face of tears, "wanna talk about what made you get nervous like that? Was it me?"
"No, I can get drowned in my own thoughts sometimes," she said, still trying to focus on every sensory thing around her, sun, birds, goats, and Harry.
"Is it common to happen?" he asked, pulling her body close to his side, until they were walking together, one hand on her forearm guiding her.
"I wouldn't say it's common, but it happens more times than I would like."
"What do you do when they happen?" Harry asked, helping her not to stumble on any rocks since she wasn't in the right state of mind.
"You can't laugh, alright?" She said, pointing an accusatory finger at him, "If you do I won't be your friend anymore."
"I don't laugh, pink promise." He showed her his little finger, which she quickly hooked, sealing their promise.
"I lay in bed, hug my childhood stuffed animal and snuggle into my pillows," she admitted, "and then just focus on the softness of the bed."
"I genuinely thought you would be saying something more scandalous, there is nothing laughable about it." He said, "I still have my childhood blanket, I put it under my pillow every night, so I understand you."
Y/n felt calmer now, somehow Harry's voice and presence made her feel relaxed.
“Now let’s go, yeah? Or that stupid guard will notice you aren’t at the sewing shop.” He smiled, taking her soft hand before leading her through the dirt path.
Little did they know they were fated to follow the same past for years to come.
Summary: When Prince Hyunjin invites to a ball, everyone who is known is coming to attend.
Word Count: 2,106
A/N: Hey, I’m not dead, I’m really posting again. I took all my knowledge about royalty from six seasons of Downton Abbey, of course it’s quite unrealistic. But it takes place in the present, not in the 1920s. The ages are not canon btw. And this is probably the fluffiest fanfiction I’ve ever written before. Enjoy!
~ Admin A
When Prince Hyunjin invites to a ball, everyone who is known is coming. Dukes, Duchesses, Earls, Countesses, even famous actors and actresses and singers.
As the daughter of the Earl of a small province in South Korea, you are invited, too.
The ball is a really good chance to meet new people because basically everyone is going to attend.
You smile shyly into the cameras as you exit the limousine that drove you to the castle. Getting used to the cameras is a thing you still want to achieve.
Even though you kind of grew up with them, the paparazzi keep on getting bolder the older you get.
With a small wave to the cameras you turn around and enter the castle. You can see even more people arriving, the photographers don’t really know who they should take a picture of first.
The castle is beautiful. Huge chandeliers hang down from the high ceiling, the light is dimly because they used candles instead of light bulbs. You follow the other ones who arrived before you to the ball room.
Although you didn’t think this would be possible, the ball room is even prettier. The marble floor seems to be freshly polished and the little gemstones inserted in the chandeliers let everything sparkle. Just like in a fairytale, you think.
To be honest, you have no idea what to do, now that you arrived. A waiter offers you a glass of champagne and you accept it with a small smile.
Someone is waving at you. You identify the person as your cousin Lucy from England. Happy to have finally found someone you know, you walk towards her to be greeted with a long hug.
You haven’t seen Lucy for a few years now, because she started to study in France and being at university didn’t leave her much time to visit her family around the world.
“How come that you are here?” you ask as you let go of her.
“I was invited and who would I be to decline this invitation?” she laughs. “But jokes aside, I’m also here on family visitation. I wanted to visit you and your parents next week, actually. The next days I wanted to see all our cousins again, now that I have vacation.”
“That’s great, Lucy! I would love to have you stay with us, I really missed you” you say with a fond smile.
“I missed you, too. But now to the real reason we are here tonight: Did you see this cute guy over there? I think I’m going to introduce myself to him, soon.” Lucy says as she points in the direction of the man she is talking about.
You have to admit, he really is cute, but sadly not your style. Lucy can have him.
“Does that mean you are leaving me alone?” you pout jokingly.
“I’m sorry, I promise I won’t be away too long! I try to make him fall for my as fast as possible so that I can return to you again” Lucy laughs and starts to walk towards the man who caught her eye.
You sigh and turn your attention back to your champagne.
“At least you are staying here with me” you mumble under your breath as you take a small sip.
~*~
“Excuse me, you look so lonely. Would you mind if I join you?” a voice asks.
You almost choke on your champagne, never would you have thought that someone would actually try to talk to you.
As you look up, you feel like your eyes just have been blessed.
The man standing in front of you is the host of the party, Prince Hyunjin. The most handsome man on the planet for you.
“Of course I don’t mind” you manage to choke out, trying not to make any squeaking noises.
“I think we haven’t been properly introduced to each other yet. Prince Hwang Hyunjin.” Hyunjin offers you his hand.
You grab it and shake hands. His grip is warm and gentle, you hope that your hands aren’t sweating at this moment.
With a small smile you introduce yourself to him and let go of his hands.
In this moment the music changes and a slow waltz begins to play. Of course it had to be a waltz, you think. The prince just introduced himself to me and suddenly a slow waltz had to play. What a coincidence.
“Would you give me the honor of dancing with you?” Hyunjin offers you his hand to take.
“That’s smooth, I have to admit. But yes, you may have the honor of this dance.” You suppress the need to roll your eyes. Although you only properly met the prince a few minutes ago, he kind of seems a bit dorky to you.
Adorable
The smile that spreads in the prince’s face as you take his hand has your heart beating faster.
I only met him a few minutes ago! You remind yourself and follow him to the dance floor.
Lucky for you, your parents taught you how to dance when you were little so you didn’t have to embarrass yourself if anyone would ask you for a dance once. You always thought that it would never happen, but now you are thankful for the dancing lessons.
The gently grip on your waist as Hyunjin leads you over the dance floor sends electric jolts through your body.
Don’t blush, don’t blush. For heaven’s sake, don’t blush!
Of course you had to blush as Hyunjin looks into your eyes with this gentle expression of his. An almost loving expression.
The dance is over far too soon.
“I would love to repeat this one day” Hyunjin states with a small bow.
“I would love it, too.”
~*~
“You did WHAT? You danced with the prince himself, Hwang Hyunjin?!”
Your cousin can’t believe what you just told her.
“Yes, I did, but there is no need to shout…” you try to silence her.
“Of course there is. I mean, my cousin just danced with the prince of South Korea.”
“Please, it was just a dance, nothing serious.” A small hint of melancholy can be heard in your voice.
But… He said that he wanted to dance with me again? Maybe it was more serious than I thought? STOP! No false hope here, it would only hurt me in the end if I over interpreted something now.
“Miss, I have a note for you to deliver.” A waiter approaches you from behind and hands you a small piece of paper.
“Thank you” you mutter and take the note.
‘I enjoyed the talk and the dance with you. When do you have time for a small coffee date? –Hyunjin’
This can’t be real. He even left his number in the corner for me.
Your eyes search for a certain young prince in the room. He is talking with some other men a few meters away. As if he senses your glance Hyunjin turns around and smiles.
Your heart can’t stop fluttering for the rest of the night.
~*~
“Tell me something about you. I want to get to know you better.” Hyunjin sips at his iced latte.
The ball was about two weeks ago and now you had your first date with Hyunjin. It almost did cost all your nerves to find the bravery to write him a message, but now you two are sitting in this small café, drinking coffee and talking like normal couples would do.
“Actually, my life isn’t that interesting. My name is Y/N, I’m twenty years old and my father is an Earl. I want to start to go to university in June to study English literature. I have two little sisters, they are twelve and fifteen. Now, your turn.”
“Okay, my name is Hyunjin, I’m twenty-two years old and my father is the king. To be honest, I want to start my studies soon, too, also in English literature. Where do you want to study?” Now Hyunjin is curious. You two seem to have something in common, your love for books. He never met someone who loves literature as much as him.
“Seoul National University, why?” Your interest is triggered now, too.
Hyunjin lets out a melodic laugh. “I’m going to study there, too!”
“Wait, no way! We are going to study the same major at the same University?”
This can’t be real. There can’t be so much of a coincidence.
“Well, it’s true. But this means we will see each other almost every day” a dreamy expression takes over Hyunjin’s face.
The rest of the time you spend together you can’t stop talking about literature until it’s already dark outside.
“As much as I love talking to you, I think the café is about to close, Hyunjin.” You say with a fond smile.
“I will accompany you home. You still live with your parents, don’t you?” Hyunjin asks.
“Yes, but I will move to the campus soon.” You blush. Being a twenty-year-old woman still living with her parents isn’t something you are very proud of.
“Too. I also still live with my parents, don’t worry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I actually know people way older than us who still live with their parents.” Hyunjin can’t help but coo at your cuteness. Because that’s what he thinks: that you are cute when you blush.
On the drive to your house you keep on chatting about your families, annoying royal duties and much more.
“Thank you for driving me home, Hyunjin,” you say as Hyunjin parks in front of your house.
“No need to thank, it should be self-evident for a man to bring his date home.” Hyunjin’s smile almost looks cocky. Almost. Mostly it looks warm and welcoming.
You chuckle. You still can’t understand how fast Hyunjin managed to make you fall for him.
“I don’t know if this is too soon, but may I give you a kiss as a goodbye?” Now Hyunjin starts to blush.
He looks absolutely adorable when he is shy, you note down in your head.
“It’s okay, you can kiss me”
You lean in halfway as Hyunjin leans over to kiss you.
When your lips meet in an innocent kiss, you almost feel like fainting.
The feeling of Hyunjin’s lips on yours is absolutely stunning for you.
It’s over far too soon. Hyunjin parts away with a satisfied and loving smile.
“Good night, Y/N. See you in your dreams”
“That’s so cheesy! Good night, you dork. Sweet dreams.” Again, you start to blush at his comment. Who would have known that the prince knew such cheesy pick-up lines?
You get out of the car and wave your date goodbye.
As you enter your house, you can feel your phone vibrating in your pocket.
‘I really enjoyed it. A second date next week, same time? –Hyunjin’
‘I’m already looking forward to it’, you type and send.
You can’t wipe off the smile in your face for the next few days.
~*~
Hyunjin and you have been dating for almost three months now. Two weeks ago you moved into your dorms, Hyunjin only living one corridor away from you.
You sit on your bed, watching a boring Netflix movie. The semester starts in two months and all you can do now is wait.
Suddenly someone knocks at your door. You walk over and open it, expecting to see your roommate, although she said that she won’t be back until noon.
You squeal and throw yourself in his arms as you see that it’s your boyfriend with take-out food.
“I thought you might be hungry, so let’s have a little lunch date at your room” Hyunjin laughs and hugs you back. “Watch out for the food, baby!”
“Oh, sorry. Come in, I’m actually really hungry. I was just too lazy to get up and eat something.” You admit.
Hyunjin sighs. “What would you do without me? Probably starve.”
“Yes” you chuckle as you grab the food.
After your ‘lunch date’, you decide to watch a movie together. But a few minutes later, you two cuddled up together, you fall asleep together.
Laying in Hyunjin’s arms always makes you feel safe and sleepy.
Even your roommate’s arrival can’t manage to wake you two up.
~*~
“Good morning, baby.”
A soft kiss is being placed on your forehead as you slowly wake up.
“Good morning… I don’t want to get up, Hyunjin. Can we just stay like this?” you ask sleepily.
“Of course, my princess”
“Actually my title isn’t princess, yet. It’s ‘Lady’” you joke as you cuddle deeper into Hyunjin’s embrace.
