#((reblogging for documenting purposes))

[maxellminidisc]

Idk I'm at a point where I can understand why people share very graphic images of Palestinians being victim to the occupation and the dehumanization they are subject to; I understand the importance of documentation in a genocide! But I also feel like if you've been aware of this on going genocide since before Oct 7 or if you've followed and gained an awareness of it since, it frustrates one to think that this documented violence is not enough for some people.

And sometimes it starts feeling exploitive of the very humanity Palestinians themselves are trying to get us all to value with this footage, especially when people start taking the wrong message from it. Mainly hopelessness, defeatism that's not theirs to feel, even a strange sort of clout chasing for being able to handle that kind of violence in the worst people online, etc. It becomes more about the feelings of people not facing this genocide than to compell one to do something to stop it for the ones who are facing it.

I just cant grasp why so much of what we already know, what has been documented for decades by Palestinians themselves and organizations people value as "valid" or "reliable", is not enough for so many people. Like I KNOW why but I can't understand allowing yourself to get to a place where you NEED to essentially see someone crushed, shot point blank, all manner of dispicibale violence to believe them. Part of you is genuinely dead if you are at that point, and you're beyond it if you still find it in you to question the "validity" of the documentation of this settler violence.

[the-sixth-house-unmourned]

y'know what I would respect this instance of a necromancer.

"It turns out your ghost wears whatever clothes you were wearing when you died. Makes me wish I'd put on my good smallclothes that last day."

--Meln the Mouthless

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 5

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You were deep in conversation with Greg, discussing the next move, when suddenly, you were called to Steve’s office. As you entered, you noticed Steve and Bucky sitting with serious expressions.

“What?” you asked, feeling a twinge of anxiety as both men locked eyes on you the moment you walked in.

Steve exchanged a glance with Bucky before he spoke up. "We found a comment that mentioned our divorce," Bucky said, his voice low.

“Oh,” you replied, crossing your arms defensively. “Does it also mention how you kidnapped me?”

Bucky chuckled, a small smile playing on his lips. “The things I’d do to bring you home.”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to be swayed by his charm.

“When we separated, did you ever tell anyone about our divorce?” Bucky’s tone grew more serious as he leaned forward, searching your eyes for the truth.

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow, the memory of Caroline’s threat flashing in your mind. “Did you forget that your mother threatened me not to tell anyone?”

The tension in the room thickened as you spoke. Caroline had made it clear she didn’t want the divorce to be public knowledge. She wanted you as far away from Bucky as possible, and she had the power to make it happen.

You’d learned quickly that fighting her was futile. Every news station and newspaper in the country had mysteriously closed their doors to you after the separation, leaving you with no choice but to pursue a career as an independent international journalist.

“That woman is ambitious as hell,” you muttered under your breath. Caroline’s wealth and connections were unmatched, and she wasn’t afraid to use them. She had even used Julius’s money to secure people who would do her bidding. Once you left the country, it seemed she lost interest in you, allowing you to continue your work in relative peace.

Working alone as a journalist in foreign countries had its challenges, but it also opened your eyes to the world. You found purpose in being a voice for the unfortunate, using your platform to shed light on the truth. Along the way, you met new friends, formed new connections, but you never let slip the truth about your marriage or divorce. The scars left on your heart were too deep, and the thought of trusting another man terrified you.

'What’s the point of having a husband if he can’t protect and defend me? you thought bitterly, the pain still fresh.

But perhaps, in a moment of vulnerability, you’d let a clue slip. You couldn’t lie to fellow journalists; they had a way of sensing the truth.

“What about your family?” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at Bucky. “Don’t just point fingers at me.”

For Bucky, the divorce was never acknowledged. He even burned the documents in the fireplace, a secret known only to him and God.

His parents, especially Caroline, were too embarrassed to admit their golden child had been divorced, while Julius, who never agreed with the divorce in the first place, remained silent.

Shawn, his oldest brother, was too high to care, and Hazel never bothered with such matters.

“It wasn’t my side either,” Bucky said, his voice steady as he locked eyes with you.

“Suit yourself,” you replied, your tone laced with a mixture of defiance and resignation.

“Sooner or later, the person who wrote it will show up,” Bucky added, his voice calm but carrying a cold edge.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, a flicker of unease crossing your face.

Bucky merely shrugged, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “If they take too long, I’ll use my way to find them.”

A chill ran down your spine at his words, the threat lingering in the air. You knew what he was capable of, and the thought of him resorting to his methods sent a shiver of fear through you.

Steve, sensing the tension, stepped in, patting Bucky’s shoulder in a calming gesture. “Let the cyber team do their job. We don’t need you taking any extreme measures, especially with the convention so close.”

Steve understood Bucky better than most. While Bucky might present a soft, composed exterior, inside he was a beast—a man unafraid to take risks, to do whatever it took, especially when it came to you. The lengths he would go to protect what was his were both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

But Steve also knew the stakes. If the truth got out—that the future Vice President’s family, particularly Bucky's mother, had abused his wife to the point of divorce, and that the wife, thought to be widowed, had been kidnapped before the election—it would destroy the perfect image the Barnes family had worked so hard to maintain.

And it wouldn’t just affect Bucky; it would drag you down with him.

It would be the scandal of the century.

That’s why, before it could escalate, they had to find the source.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The Barnes family gathered in the opulent conference room, tension crackling in the air like a live wire. Everyone was present, except for Shawn, who, as usual, was nowhere to be found.

Greg stood at the head of the table, flipping through his notes. “Well, after the Rogers family makes their appearance, it’s time for the Barnes to take the stage.”

“Of course,” Caroline chimed in, her voice sharp with authority. “All of us need to be up there.”

“Me too?” you asked, directing your question to Greg.

“Yes,” Bucky interjected before Greg could respond. “We’ve prepared the ramp for Tim’s wheelchair.”

Before you could even register the thoughtfulness behind Bucky’s statement, Caroline’s voice sliced through the room, dripping with venom. “No. It will ruin the balance. Everyone else can stand on their feet. While…”

“You know what? I hope you die and rot in hell!” you snapped, your voice ringing with years of pent-up anger.

The room froze, every head snapping in your direction. Caroline’s eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Did… Did you hear that? She cursed me!”

You didn’t back down, the rage pouring out of you like a dam breaking. “So you’d rather parade your cocaine-addicted son who crashed his car and killed someone than show my brother who, despite losing a leg, works tirelessly from nine to five?”

Caroline was too stunned to reply, her face draining of color. Bucky, though usually stoic, couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “You’re out of line, Mom. Tim is her only family left.”

Hazel, normally indifferent, nodded in agreement. “This time, I’m with them.”

Caroline, her voice trembling with indignation, shot back, “Is this how you treat your own mother?”

“No, Carol,” Julius said, his voice cold and cutting, “this is what we call karma.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he fought to control the emotions boiling beneath the surface. “She’s been in the same position as you,” he said, a lump forming in his throat as memories of his mother’s cruelty resurfaced. “You only felt that sting for three minutes, but my wife endured it for years.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her fury now directed squarely at you. Her face flushed with rage, and you could almost see the steam rising from her ears. “So what? You want me to apologize?”

You met her gaze without flinching, your voice icy. “No. I don’t need your apology. It wouldn’t be enough to cover the pain I’ve suffered because of you. And honestly? I’d feel relieved if you died. If someone could confirm you’re burning in hell, it’d be the best news I’ve heard in years.”

Caroline, still believing she was the true victim, stormed out of the room, her heels clicking angrily on the marble floor. Julius and Hazel exchanged a glance before following her, leaving a tense silence in their wake.

Bucky watched them go, his fists clenched at his sides. He turned to you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were feeling. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softening for the first time that day.

You shook your head, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. “I don’t know. It felt good to finally say what I’ve been holding in, but it doesn’t erase everything she’s done.”

Bucky nodded, stepping closer to you. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone. I should’ve stood up for you sooner.”

You looked up at him, the tension between you both palpable. “It’s too late for regrets, Bucky. We’ve both been through hell. The only thing that matters now is what we do next.”

He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Then let’s make sure this doesn’t break us.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Before the convention starts, the air buzzes with the anticipation of the event. As you stand in the corner of the vast convention hall, adjusting your outfit, a familiar voice calls out your name. You turn and see Ian, the British journalist you’ve met a few times before. His tousled hair and easy smile make him stand out in the crowd.

“Ian!” you greet him, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “What are you doing here?”

Ian chuckles, clearly pleased to see you. “I’m here to cover the election, of course. But, honestly, I jumped at the chance to come because I knew you’d be here.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “So, you flew all the way out here just for me?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “My boss didn’t believe me when I said I knew you. I had to show him a picture of us together just to convince him.”

You laugh again, feeling the warmth of his presence. “Well, I’m glad you made it. It’s been a while.”

As you and Ian catch up, the conversation flows easily, your shared ideas and interests making the time fly by. He tells you about his latest assignments, and you share some of your recent experiences. The banter between you is light and effortless, the kind that comes naturally with someone you’re comfortable with.

But then, you sense a shift in the air, and before you can react, Bucky appears at your side. He’s polite, as always, his smile perfectly in place, but you can sense the underlying tension in his posture. His eyes dart between you and Ian, and although he doesn’t say it, you know he’s not thrilled about the easy rapport between you and the British journalist.

“Hi,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Just thought I’d come by and check in.”

Ian extends his hand to Bucky with a friendly smile. “Ian, nice to meet you.”

Bucky shakes his hand, his grip a bit firmer than necessary. “Likewise. I’ve heard a bit about you.”

There’s a brief, almost imperceptible moment of silence, where you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. His polite smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you can tell he’s itching to separate you from Ian.

“Well,” Ian says, oblivious to the tension, “I should get going. Need to find my spot before the chaos begins.” He turns to you, his smile warm and genuine. “Let’s catch up properly after this?”

You nod, still smiling. “Definitely. See you around, Ian.”

As Ian walks away, Bucky’s gaze follows him, his jaw tightening slightly. Once Ian is out of sight, Bucky’s shoulders relax, but only a fraction. He turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“You two seem close,” Bucky says, his voice carefully neutral, but you don’t miss the hint of something more beneath the surface.

“We’ve met a few times,” you reply casually, though you can sense Bucky’s unease.

He nods, but his eyes narrow slightly, as if something about Ian doesn’t sit right with him. Deep down, Bucky’s instincts are on high alert. There’s something about Ian—something he can’t quite put his finger on—that doesn’t add up. And as much as he tries to push it aside, the feeling gnaws at him, making him wonder if Ian’s presence here is as innocent as it seems.

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[greenwitchfromthewoods]

archives l Javier Peña

Summary:  you shouldn't have met him there

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, swearing, sex without protection (don’t do that!),

A/N: I don't have much to say. I'll just leave this here. please be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

"Shit!"

You cursed quietly as the cardboard box you were trying to take off slipped out of your hands and fell to the archive floor, spilling its contents. Folders with carelessly written names, scattered pages of typescript, photos - all of this now lay under your feet.

You had been sitting in this dark and musty room for almost an hour, trying to find the documents you needed. But the number of shelves and bookcases made this place a real labyrinth. Your eyes slid over the names and places that the files lying on the floor referred to - still not that one.

Another dark alley didn’t look inviting, but you had no other choice. You strained your eyes when suddenly you heard a strange movement, and then a voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"A lonely woman in a place like this." someone tsk-tsked approaching you "I guess they don't teach you anything in this office, do they?"

You sighed with relief when you saw the familiar face of a man leaning against the shelf next to you.

"Javier. You shouldn't be sneaking around like that." you hissed. "What are you doing here anyway? It's late."

"I had some paperwork." he replied, his dark eyes shamelessly gliding over your figure. "I saw you left your stuff. I thought I'd look for you."

"Mhm. For what purpose?"

You saw the tip of his tongue as he licked his lips with it. "I haven't seen you in a while." he noted.

"I'm here all the time." you mumbled and averted your gaze to the shelves in front of you. Although you could see the letters that formed the descriptions of individual boxes, you didn't understand anything from them. The room suddenly seemed even more stuffy to you.

"I haven't seen you at my place." he clarified.

Something tightened your insides. You knew perfectly well what Javier meant. You knew it all too well…

For the past few months, you and Javier Peña had a certain relationship. It all started after one of the more brutal arrests. You were both stressed and overstimulated, and then something snapped and without knowing how you ended up in Javier's apartment fucking him on the couch.

No. You knew exactly how you ended up there. You weren't drunk, and neither was he. But then you had a few drinks and felt terrible guilt. Javier absolved you, and showed up at your place a few days later. And you fucked again, this time in your bed.

It was just sex. 

To get rid of the pressure and stress. And Peña had a lot of it in him. Sometimes it was rough and strong, sometimes he used the time to play with you, like a predator before devouring its prey. But you didn't complain.

Only when you noticed that you were waiting for the familiar knock on the door, that you were searching for him with your eyes in the office, that you were sensitive to the sound of his voice - that made you think.

That's when you backed off. "This is the last time." You told him as you put on your panties. "I met someone. He's a nice guy. He works at the embassy." Javier snorted. He didn't believe that you could leave him. Not when his cum was still dripping down your thigh. But you left his apartment, the door closed, and that was it.

He saw you with that guy. Once in one of the bars. And he knew that you saw him too. That evening, for the first time in a long time, he took a hooker home. But she wasn't you.

You became his obsession. You were within arm's reach, and yet he couldn't touch you. And then he realized that it hadn't been just about sex for a long time.

He could see that you were confused. Your fingers were nervously tapping some rhythm on one of the shelves, your eyes were avoiding his.

"We talked about it." You finally answered.

"Yeah, I know. You have someone." Javier snorted "A nice guy from the embassy. Did you tell him about us?"

"There was no 'us'."

"So you didn't." A smirk spread under his mustache, and you felt like punching him in the face. "You're a naughty girl."

"Oh, stop it!" You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. "Don't act like a kid who lost a toy. You have plenty of them!"

Peña tilted his head, watching you carefully, processing your words. There was something hypnotizing about him. You saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, his chest heaving with his steady breath. His eyes, dark as night, were still watching you, and you were slowly afraid to move.

Finally, you were the first to speak. "Listen, I don't know what you've got in mind, but I'm not going to get into this. I'm in a healthy relationship with a cool guy, you're not going to interrogate me now."

"A happy relationship?"

"W-What?" you stuttered, surprised.

"I'm asking if it's a happy relationship." Javier raised his eyebrows slightly, repeating his question, "You know, satisfying. Exciting. Arousing."

He said each word in a way that hit all your senses at once.

"A healthy one." You repeated, and he smiled again.

He took a few lazy steps toward you, his fingers sliding over the boxes on the shelves.

"So you're not getting wet just thinking about him?" his voice lowered and you felt warmth creeping up your neck "Don't you feel that pleasant shiver when he's close? Does he know what he has to do to make you come in just a few minutes? How long did it take us, hermosa? Four, or five?"

"You're an asshole, Peña!" you hissed.

"I am." he shrugged "But you felt good with me, didn't you? You were in my bed like that lazy kitten stretching in the sheets. Your thighs covered in hickeys. You had chaff instead of brains from how many times I let you come."

Every word he said struck those chords inside you that made your legs go numb. Peña was a devil in human skin and he decided to possess you. He was so close that you could smell the remnants of his cologne and cigarettes. This must have been what hell looked like. You were damned.

"I'm happy, Javier." you said quietly "He treats me well."

Warm fingers brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, running over your warm cheeks to your chin.

"That's good." he mumbled. "If he treated you badly I would have to kill him, cariño. But was I bad to you? Tell me."

Finally you looked into his eyes, almost defiantly. Javier wanted to kiss you right then, but he held back.

"So you tell me how you treated me, Javier." you said. "Who was I to you? A pussy on two legs that you had whenever you wanted?"

"That's funny." he laughed quietly. "You don't say anything about the evenings when you came to visit me." you swallowed loudly. "You were so horny then. So unsatisfied. You let me do such things to you..."

"Shut up!"

A sly smile appeared on his face again. You were already in a losing position. But suddenly Javier softened.

"Do you love him?"

"Please."

"Do you?"

"It's not that simple."

"Oh, it is. You see, baby, if someone asked me if I loved you..." your heart stopped beating for a moment, you listened to his words with horror "...I'd tell him to fuck off." You couldn't help but snort, and Javier smiled but didn't stop talking "But if I asked myself, do you know what I'd answer? I'd say you're a thorn in my side. You've dug yourself under my skin. You've made yourself at home in my heart. I'm pissed off when I see you with him. And when I think of him fucking you..."

His hands tightened on your hips. You were so stunned by his words that you didn't protest when he pulled you closer.

"Tell me that if I slip my hand into your panties, I won't feel how wet you are. This pussy knows she’s only mine. And I want you, all of you."

"Javier, please..." your lips brushed against his.

"What are you asking for, cariño? I'll do anything for you. Just tell me."

Tears pressed into your eyes. His words filled your head, reaching for everything you didn't want to feel. Fear followed right behind the desire, how much Javier had imprinted himself on your heart.

"Don't destroy me, Javier." You whispered as the first tear rolled down your cheek. "I couldn't be just your girl for one night anymore. It was killing me... The thought of never owning you."

"I've been just yours for a long time, hermosa. And I'll never stop being."

His lips crashed against yours so hard that you could barely catch your breath.

Your fingers slid into his hair as you pressed yourself even closer to him. God! You missed him so much. It was torture to work with Peña in the same place, when looking at him you remembered how his head was between your legs giving you orgasm after orgasm.

And now his tongue was deep in your mouth again, his hand tightened on your breast, but your moan was drowned out.

You felt the shelf behind you, and Javier's body pressed you against it hard, spreading your legs with his thigh. The hard bulge in his pants rubbed against you, making you feel hot in your core.

His lips slid down your neck, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin. Your blouse and  bra were pulled up to free your breasts. Hot lips sucked on your nipple. You rolled your hips to feel the friction, something to give you relief, because you couldn't hold it in anymore.

Javier overwhelmed your senses, and your body begged for him intensely.

"Just as I thought." he mumbled as your breast slipped from his lips and his hand dug into your panties. "You're wet. So juicy, hermosa. Just for me."

"Please, Javier, I want to feel you." you stuttered with difficulty.

You could see in his eyes that he was already on the edge. He was barely holding himself back from destroying you right now, in a second. But as your hands began to unbuckle his belt, he began to pull up your skirt.

"I want to feel that tight pussy again." he panted as he grabbed your thigh tightly and rested it on his hip, opening you up for him. "You were rude to take her away from me, you know? I was starving to taste her again." he pushed your panties aside and his fingers ran over your folds "Tell me you want me. Tell me you want me to ruin this beautiful pussy, hermosa."

"I want you, Javi." you whispered "I'm only yours."

"That's right. Only mine."

With one quick thrust, his hard cock slid inside you. You moaned loudly at the sudden stretch. Javir pushed himself all the way to the base, filling you up like only he could. You were pinned to the shelf behind you by his body, but you didn't mind.

Peña began to move hard. His hand gripped your thigh, and the other helped you stabilize. With each subsequent thrust, you felt like he was going deeper. His lips found yours, but they were just kisses stealing your precious breath.

"Fuck, you take me so well. You're made for me, baby." he panted as he pressed his face against your cheek "I want you all to myself again, to fuck you the way you like. To hear you scream my name until - shit - I fill you to the brim. You like that, don't you? You love the way my cum leaks out of you."

"I... I didn't let him." you replied, tightening your fingers in his hair "He never... I never let him cum inside me. Only you, Javi... Only you."

"Fuck! I knew it!" he kissed you hard, his movements quickening.

You couldn't pretend anymore. You were on the edge, and Javier wanted to push you off with great pleasure. His cock moved inside you, hitting the spot you needed.

"Cum for me, cariño! I want to feel you. I want to feel that pussy squeeze me. Shit! I’ve got you, baby!"

An animalistic moan escaped your throat, your nails digging into his shoulder. But Javier didn't feel any pain. He only felt you, saw only you. He saw your body trembling with the pleasure he gave you. Now his thrusts were stronger, but he didn't need much to come.

"Fuck, you're only mine. Only mine." he panted, hiding his face near your neck as his seed poured inside you.

You felt a twitch as he spurted the last drops, and then he stopped. This small space was filled only by your breath. You felt the sweat running down your back, Javier's hot body. And then he pulled out, leaving you strangely empty.

You adjusted your clothes as he buttoned his pants, and after a moment you felt warm hands cupping your face, his lips finding yours again. He kissed you slowly, tenderly, gently. Like a lover, not the man who had just fucked you in your office archives. Although maybe it was the same thing.

He rested his forehead against yours leaving you in a sweet distraction "I don't want you to slip away from me again." he whispered "Never again."

"I won't do that." you replied "I'll always be a thorn in your side."

"The sexiest I know."

He kissed you again and you knew what you had to do. You were scared but you knew that together you would do it. And after this all you had was each other.

And that was good.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:19」 — c.seungcheol

» seventeen menu | s.coups menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ merman!Seungcheol × fem!Reader wc: 2.7k summary: It’s been a few weeks since Y/N last came to the small seaside town where her boyfriend resides and suffice it to say, he’s missed her greatly. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i wasn’t sure what direction i wanted to go in with this but I’m happy with the way it went. As usual, Cheol gets the daddy treatment. I swear one of these days I won’t write him with a daddy kink. It just fits so fucking well. This is kinda self indulgent but I hope my s.coups stan readers enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing! Thank you for reading. Next part of Kinktober is Wooyoung and is kinda similar to this in that he’s a siren! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), daddy kink, choking (f receiving), unprotected sex (pls use protection. Cheol doesn’t need it. He’s a merman lol), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), sex on a boat, use of pet names (babe, sweetheart, angel, pearl, etc.), and i think i got them all. if i missed any, please let me know!  kinks: Daddy kink + choking dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Baby, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“Fuck,” you groaned as you pulled into a parking space. “I’m so fucking late!” You grabbed your things, rushing to get out of the car and rush to the trunk, glancing up at the sky as you pulled your suitcase out of the trunk, slamming it shut before hurrying across the parking lot.

The wind swirled around you, the smell of sea water permeating the air as you headed for the marina, suitcase in tow. The sun was beginning to set and you only had a few hours to get to the islet before sundown if you wanted to dock safely.

As you crossed the gangway, you felt a chill creep in, the clouds moving in as gulls flew overhead, calling out in successive squawks. You reached the door to the marina office, pulling it open and stepped over the threshold into the small building, smiling at the man behind the counter as he read a newspaper, looking over you with an unamused expression.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly as you walked to the counter, pulling your suitcase. “I have a reservation.” The man glanced at your suitcase, your choice of attire before he set his newspaper aside. “Name?” he asked in a monotonous voice.

As you gave him your name, he checked the book, brows raising as he found your reservation. “You’re a regular,” he noted as he started filling out the paperwork. He went over the papers, having you sign and date the appropriate documents before he handed over the keys. “I don’t think you need me to tell you to be careful,” he started. “But it’s getting rough out there,” he added.

You thanked him, promising that you weren’t going far and you’d be safe.

He showed you to the boat that was yours for the duration of your trip and went over the typical safety stuff. After a thorough last minute lesson, not that you needed it, you thanked him, boarded the boat and put your things down below in the cabin before setting off, casting off from the dock and slowly taking the boat out to sea.

You followed your GPS, remembering exactly where the islet was located.

You knew by memory how to get there but having the extra tools was nice.

The sun was at the horizon by the time the rocky shore of the small island came into view and you carefully maneuvered to the old wooden dock, tossing the rope to pull yourself parallel with the dock.

Once the boat was securely docked, you went down into the cabin to change, hoping that you weren’t too late.

Seungcheol had spent the last couple weeks patrolling the waters of the sleepy seaside town he called home. Not that he actually lived in town. No, how could he? His home was the water. He’d been expecting you to show up for two weeks now and still there had been no sign of you. Not a word, not a whisper. He was starting to get worried.

As he watched the marina, he saw no movement, the sun almost completely below the horizon. He let out a frustrated groan, diving below the surface of the icy water as he headed for the islet, hoping that maybe he just missed you and that you were already there.

As he neared the islet, he surfaced, squinting in the darkness and saw a boat moored at the dock, his heart leaping in his chest as a smile spread across his face, the urge to do a happy dance taking over him before he pushed it down and dove under the water once more, swimming straight for the boat.

You had just finished eating dinner and washed the dishes when you heard a thump against the side of your boat. Getting up from the bed, you climbed the steps to the deck, turning on the search light and moving it around, shining it over the water.

There was another thump and you quickly grabbed the handheld torch, turning it on with a click and walking over to the starboard side to peer over the railing at the water below. There was a splash and a flash of a dark shadow but you couldn’t see anything else.

Another thump came but from the port side this time, so you crossed over, about to shine a light when you heard another knock on the starboard side and you stopped, letting out a sigh of frustration.

“Choi Seungcheol, stop fucking with me,” you snapped, your voice loud in the darkness over the sound of the waves lapping at the rocks. The thumping stopped followed by the sound of someone blowing raspberries from the stern. You walked towards the back where the ladder was and peered over the edge to find looking back at you the familiar face of the man you’d come to see.

You could see his tail, scales glittering in the beam of your light.

“Stop playing around and get up here,” you said, rolling your eyes as you turned and started to head back towards the steps to the cabin. “There’s clean, dry clothes and a towel on the bridge.”

You climbed down the steps as you heard him follow you, climbing the ladder. You could hear him above deck, moving about as he dragged himself along before the sound was replaced with footsteps.

Moments later, he appeared, barefoot and dressed in the clothes you left for him as he dried his hair and joined you below deck. “Hey,” he said breathlessly. “Hi,” you said as you sat back down on the bed. He ran the towel over his hair once more as he looked around. “Nice boat,” he said as he inspected. “How long do you have it for?”

“Just the week,” you said as you picked up your laptop, continuing to scroll through the page of real estate. Seungcheol tossed the towel in the hamper and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge. You turned to look at him, the end of a pen between your teeth as you wrote down in a notebook. 

His hair was still damp, some of it sticking to his forehead. The pale blue shirt you’d given him was sticking to his body in places that had still been wet when he put it on. Your eyes roamed over his toned chest and arms, the fabric seeming to stretch over his muscles.

“So,” he started as he glanced at your screen. “Find anything yet?” he asked. You shook your head, turning your attention back to the laptop. “No,” you answered, brow furrowing as you tried to focus. “Everything is out of my price range.” You let out a sigh of frustration.

“I might have to find something outside of town…”

Seungcheol glanced at you, a frown appearing on his face. You looked at him, finding him already staring at you. “What?” you asked. “What if I got a job?” he asked. You stared at him incredulously. “A job?” you asked, clarifying that you had heard him correctly. He nodded. “I could help bring money in and then you could afford a place in town.”

You shook your head. “That would take you from the ocean,” you answered. “I’m not doing that to you,” you added as you turned your attention back to the computer screen. “I just want you close,” he admitted. You smiled at him. “I know, baby,” you replied. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

Seungcheol fell silent as you continued to scroll through the listings. He watched the way your tongue danced around the end of the pen and he felt himself starting to grow hard at the thought of your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock instead. He cleared his throat.

“Sweetheart?” he said softly.

You didn’t look at him, instead humming in response as you kept your attention focused on the screen. “I haven’t seen you in almost a year,” he continued. “Could we put the laptop away for a bit?” You glanced up at him, eyes wide. “Oh, right,” you said as you shut the laptop and set it on the shelf inside the headboard, pulling the pin from your mouth. “Sorry,” you said as you moved closer, one of your hands sliding up his bicep to the side of his neck before pulling him in for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured against your lips, one of his hands moving to the small of your back. “I missed you too,” you replied. You took his face between your hands, pulling him with you as you leaned back against the pillows, forcing him to climb over you, settling between your thighs as his tongue slipped into your mouth, caressing your own.

“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Miss your face.” He kissed your neck. “Missed your voice.” He placed a kiss against your shoulder. “Missed your body.” His kisses traveled further down over your cloth covered chest and stomach. “Missed having you under me,” he groaned, bumping his nose against your mound, inhaling sharply.

“Missed tasting you, touching you, teasing you,” he said as his hands moved, grabbing the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down, pulling your panties down with them. You parted your thighs as he tossed your clothes aside licking his lips as he got an eyeful of your cunt. “Missed this,” he whispered, parting your folds and running his tongue from your slit to your clit, letting out a groan at the taste of you.

You let out a moan, head falling back as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly before teasing with his tongue in slow circles and licks. Your fingers combed through his hair as your chest rose and fell with your breathing. “Cheollie,” you moaned, stroking his hair as he continued to make out with your pussy, lewdly licking and slurping at your clit as he groaned against you.

“Cheollie,” you breathed out again, back arching slightly as he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Hmm?” he answered. “I need you, baby,” you whined. Seungcheol chuckled, flattening his tongue as he pressed it against your clit, shaking his head, looking at you with dark eyes, pupils blown with lust as he continued to lick and suck. 

“Cheollie,” you whined. He pulled back “That’s not my name, baby,” he said in a stern voice. “You know what to call me.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Daddy please,” you whined. Seungcheol’s response was immediate, his tongue back on you in an instant. It didn’t take him long to have you on the edge once more, holding your hips down as his tongue played with your clit until you finally came, thighs squeezing his head as he lapped at your cunt repeatedly.

He finally pulled away, moving his hands to undo his shirt, shrugging it off and throwing it to the floor before moving to undo the ties of his shorts, pushing them down as well, his thick cock springing back up as it was freed.

He kicked the shorts to the floor as you sat up before ripping your shirt off over your head, laying your bare body back against the sheets as he moved between your thighs. He took his cock in his hand, giving himself a few languid strokes as he lined the tip with your entrance.

“You ready, baby?” he asked. You hummed in response, wiggling your hips, silently begging for him to finally give in and sink his thick cock into your aching cunt. Seungcheol let out an exasperated sigh, leaning forward to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together.

“Baby, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.”

You nodded. “Y-yes daddy,” you murmured, looking back up at him with excited eyes. Seungcheol pulled back, pressing the head of his cock against your slit, keeping his eyes trained on you and holding your gaze as he started to lean forward.

You groaned as he pushed into you. Once his cockhead was nestled in your cunt, he moved his hands to the backs of your thighs, pushing them against you as he sank further into your walls, his thick cock filling your pussy and dragging against your walls until he bottomed out.

“God I missed you,” he breathed out, eyes fluttering shut as he rested, letting you adjust to the intrusion. It had been over a year since you’d been intimate and the first time always stung due to his size. Your hand moved over his, sliding up to his forearm and giving it a slight squeeze.

“Okay, daddy,” you moaned. “I’m ready.”

Seungcheol pulled back with a sigh before sinking his cock back into you, letting out a groan as he filled you with one, slow stroke. “Fuck, princess,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight around daddy’s cock.” He gave you another thrust before setting a steady pace, pumping in and out of your tight heat. 

Sex with your boyfriend was always an experience as he preferred quality over quantity. It wasn’t about how many strokes it took to have you coming undone but how well he angled those strokes or how hard they were. If he wanted, he could have you cumming on his cock in as little as ten thrusts. He’d done it before. He knew your body better than anyone, even you.

The first time you had sex had been on the beach in the dead of night. One minute, he’d taken you out to a hidden cove to look at the stars and the next he was balls deep inside you, murmuring between kisses how much he loved you. It had been a rather sandy affair and he promised the next time, he’d plan a little better.

The next time, he didn’t plan better and ended up fucking you roughly against some rocks from behind half in the water. That was the first time he fucked you without changing, his cock emerging from its sheath inside his body. He found you quite liked that and thought it was extremely erotic. Any chance he got to fuck you in his true form, he took it, even if it meant you had to be partially submerged.

The next time he got you naked, was on the boat you were renting at the time. It was smaller and more cramped but he enjoyed every second of it. It was around that time that he discovered you had a few particularly interesting likes in the bedroom so to speak.

He learned that you liked being dominated. You loved being held down and pleasured until you couldn’t take it anymore. You loved when he wrapped his fingers around your throat or filled your mouth with them. You showed him quickly that you liked it raw, filthy, and were open to a lot of new things.

Seungcheol let out a growl as your walls clamped around his cock as you teetered on the edge, moaning for him over and over in a chant like you were in prayer. Your hand found his, grabbing his wrist and guided his hand to your throat. 

His fingers squeezed, cutting off the oxygen to your brain and you finally came, crying out for him, cunt convulsing around his thick cock. He fucked you through it before setting a faster more rough pace, pounding into you. You’d gotten yours and now it was his turn.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he groaned, slamming into you as he kept a tight hold on your throat. “Likes it when daddy chokes her until she cums. Can you give me another one?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the sound of his skin against yours.

You nodded, head lolling as his thrusts grew in intensity and power. “Then give me another, baby. Cum on daddy’s cock.” Your thighs shook as you tried to close them but Seungcheol kept a tight hold on you, one hand on your thigh, the other on your neck as he fucked you through another orgasm before he finally came, releasing into you with a groan as his hot seed filled your walls.

He continued to thrust a few more times before he finally stilled, panting as he released your throat, his hand moving back to your thigh to spread your legs open as he looked down where his cock disappeared into your hole, a ring of cum around the base of his cock.

“You made a mess all over daddy’s cock, princess,” he murmured. You looked up at him through half open eyes as he looked up to meet your gaze. “Sorry, daddy,” you breathed. “S’okay, baby,” he said with a smile as he slowly pulled out of you.

“I like it when you make a mess.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[highvern]

Steam II

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: ATLA au, enemies(?) to lovers, forbidden romance, royalty au

General Warnings: violence (bending fights), injuries (mentions of broken bones, burns, blood, bruises), alcohol consumption, mentions of prostitutionSmut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, fingering, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, marking, virgin!reader, wonwoo has a tiny bit of a corruption kink

Length: ~16.4k | Fic Length: ~60k

Credits: banner: @caelesjjk and @shadowkoo | betas: @tomodachiii @miniseokminnies @gyuswhore @haologram and @wqnwoos

Note: part 2 is here! pls reblog and lmk what you think. also! the poem mentioned near the end. part 3 will be up friday because wednesday is reserved for a very special bday fic for one of my favorite people.

summary: Wonwoo is the best fire bender in Capitol City. Or he is. But a water bender he's never seen before changes everything.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Wonwoo’s first day as your personal guard was a case study in public humiliation.

Your grandmother sat high on her dais in the council debate hall with you seated on a slightly lower platform at her side, stiff as a board. The meeting had already taken hours. Councilmen and nobles argued back and forth across the aisle, every topic of debate hammered into the ground for them to ultimately agree to the same terms the proposed at the beginning of the discussion. It was a waste of time and energy to argue superfluous details but it kept them content which was a priceless luxury. Better to let men yell their silly insults across the debate chamber than across the battlefield.

Their raucous chatter served another purpose: preventing you from falling asleep. When that stopped working, your nails stung into your palms and you pinched your thighs, hands hidden beneath the sleeves of your gown.

Wonwoo moved into the servant’s quarters of your apartment last night and you hadn’t slept a wink, tossing and turning all night. He’d arrived and disappeared into his new room without so much as a glance in your direction. It shouldn’t have confused you as much as it did. Nothing could ever happen but it didn’t stop the tension from thundering through the entire suite; knowing you fantasized about having him in your room only for him to actually be there. 

Then that morning when you rose, servants and lady's maids fluttering about to prepare you for the day, you felt his judgment even though he never vocalized it; a heavy weight around your neck. Face hot, you shoved the new found shame down as far as you could and tried to ignore it.

The burden didn’t lighten as he followed a pace behind you throughout the day, to every appointment and lesson. He watched in somber silence as the royal jeweler presented fine gems set into crowns, necklaces, and rings. He stared at his shoes while your seamstress pinned and unpinned in a new dress. And now, he hovered somewhere behind you in the very meeting you wished would end.

“And now our last order of business,” Chancellor Dak started, scanning the long document before him. “Lord Belaor, you have the floor.”

Lord Belaor rose from his seat at the end of the chamber and approached the wide center aisle. The billowed sleeves of his robes resembled a peacock. He was dramatic as ever, demanding full attention for whatever gripe possessed him.

“As we all know, it is customary that the 25th birthday of an heir to the United Islands’ throne is a matter of great significance. It—” 

“‘It signifies that this heir is eligible to assume the throne’,” Chancellor Dak finished. “Of course we are aware of this Lord Belaor, but Princess Y/N and Her Majesty agreed she would delay her ascension until she felt comfortable assuming the throne. This has been long discussed.”

Murmurs of agreement whispered across the chamber, nobles and councilmen rolling their eyes.

“It is not Princess Y/N to whom I was referring,” Lord Belaor said. “Last month, on the occasion of his twenty-fifth birthday, my nephew, Duke Tsao, became eligible to assume the throne.”

A terrible silence filled the room. Nobles and councilmen gaped like fish as what their peer suggested: treason.

“I beg your pardon?” you gasped.

Belaor turned his head not towards you, but your grandmother. “My nephew is ready to take his place as United Island’s rightful king.”

Your jaw clenched so tight your teeth threatened to crack. Tsao, that bumbling idiot, wasn’t fit to pour water in a bucket without supervision, couldn’t bend to save his life. Tsao flaunted his mistresses without shame and starved his tenants with burdensome taxes to fund his affairs. He’d get the throne over your dead body.

“Princess Y/N is the first in line for the throne, a direct descendent of royalty. Are you challenging the line of succession, Lord Belaor?” Lord Gaha asked. Of all the nobles, he maintained the most influence and he didn’t seem sold on the idea Belaor presented.

“I am simply providing a potential consideration given that Princess Y/N is of age and yet remains unmarried. Not all of the council is completely confident she is the most suitable choice to govern our great nation with that information in mind.”

Freezing Belaor and his Spirits forsaken nephew until their hearts stopped became more and more appealing. If that didn’t work then drowning was another solid option; however, it’d require far more work. Murdering a noble would be frowned upon but Lord Belaor, frozen to the far wall, bloody and bruised from your fists was a satisfying image. He probably hadn’t considered that outcome before opening his mouth.

Your grandmother appraised Lord Belaor, a look you were familiar with. “We have never required princesses to marry in order to rule our country and I will not start now.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty. But my nephew is already married with several children. His line is secured in the event something unfortunate happens. Can we say the same of our dear princess? Spirits protect her, but we must prepare for the worst possible outcomes.”

He didn’t mention that six of Tsao’s ten children were bastards with rumors of more.

“I will take your concerns under consideration, Lord Belaor. You are all dismissed.”

Chancellor Dak echoed your grandmother’s sentiment and followed your grandmother to her private office, whispering urgently. 

Princesses did not rush, or stomp. They did not slouch or shrug. They did not fantasize of murder no matter how righteous. But of all the things you were not allowed to do, you refused to break in front of self important nobles.

You marched through the palace, pulse hammering in your ears with each step. If you were born with your mother’s fire instead of the late king’s water, then the palace would’ve crumbled to cinders. But you were in control. You just needed to get to the private pavilion at the edge of the gardens and then—

Your attendant, Lin, struggled to match your pace. “Your Highness, you have a tsungi horn lesson with—”

“Cancel it. Clear my schedule for the rest of the day.”

“But!” Lin objected but you already turned the corner before she could attempt to argue.

Wonwoo watched you destroy the training pavilion in fury. Targets exploded like fireworks from ice blades the size of his torso. When there were none left you bent ice into the shape of what looked suspiciously similar to the noble from earlier and started destroying those as well.

He was…terrified. You were not the poised princess he met at the barracks, nor the crafty opponent he met in the warehouse. This was something new. Something volatile. The leash of carefully crafted control slipped from the typhoon that waited beneath the surface. You held back all those times he watched you bend. Were all princesses trained to be so deadly?

A small part of him, a piece he didn’t know existed, felt relief when the nobles revealed you were unwed. He wasn’t a part of some grand betrayal. His only crime was being overly friendly with a woman above his station which shouldn’t really be considered a crime. Wonwoo hadn’t compromised you no more than you compromised him. 

“AH!” you screamed and the remaining effigies shattered into a million pieces. 

Despite the noise, no one came. This far edge of the gardens, so far from the palace that the hedges blocked the spires, seemed to be the one place not crowded with servants. 

Wonwoo remained in agonizing solitude as you collapsed on the ground, closed your eyes, and huffed like a toddler. You looked so similar in the orange and pinks of sunset as you did in moonlight and yet nothing was the same. The eerie calm you maintained during a fight, the confident sureness you’d win, had waned into whatever he had just witnessed.

You made a disgusted noise and rose to your feet, surveying the damage. When you finally turned, you gazed at him as if you forgot he existed. “Can you go away?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Then do you have to be so loud about it?”

“I haven’t spoken to you since I got here.” 

Here as in the palace, simply because he hadn’t known what to say last night and chose to hide in his room instead. A room larger than any he had before, even those he shared with others. It was all so new and strange. He imagined you alone in your room, just down the hall. The benign realization that he was effectively alone with you returned those horribly vivid memories; the feelings of longing. 

Wonwoo kept his mouth shut because he wasn’t sure what would come out. Another teasing jab, or something more damning. Now with witnesses in every corner and maids who liked to barge in without a care, he couldn’t afford to slip.

You glided across the pavilion where there was a stack of towels and began wiping away the dirt and sweat clinging to your face. “Yeah, well, I can feel you judging me.”

“I’m not judging you,” Wonwoo sputtered. 

“Yes, you are!” you argued.

Wonwoo really wanted to say he was judging those old men and their unabashed scheming. He knew Lord Tsao, or of him. Knew he wasn’t fit to rule a pile of dirt let alone a kingdom; heard the stories of his tenants going hungry season after season to pay the lord’s gambling debts. 

But Wonwoo did not say those things. He doubted fanning the flame of your ire would have much benefit other than more destruction of more unfortunate targets and he’d prefer not to become one. Besides, he really does not want to talk about politics and marriage; he wants to go back to your apartment and take a long bath and try to find the sleep that evaded him last night.

“I’m just not used to having servants do everything for me,” he said.

“They’re doing their jobs,” you snapped before mumbling, “We’re all just doing our jobs.”

With the sun sinking below the line of the hedges, the pavilion cast in deep shadows. 

“Can you at least tell them not to be so thorough? One of them offered to help me bathe last night.”

“That's Han’s attempt at flirting. She thinks you’re handsome.” A blip of amusement crossed your face, so brief it could have been imagination but he savors it all the same.

“Glad I’m making a good impression,” Wonwoo said. He looked to the sky above, the stars already dappling the sky. They’re more visible here than in the city. “So if you’re old enough to be queen, why aren’t you?”

You deflated and Wonwoo instantly regretted the question. “All I’ve done since I was a child was learn what it was to be queen. I’ve studied history, war strategy, tax reforms. I’ve attended council meetings since I was twelve. It is all I am, all I have been raised to do from the second I was born. And yet… there is so much I do not know.”

“So you sneak out of the palace?”

“Partially,” You admitted, taking a seat on a nearby bench. “If I told them I wanted to see the city it would take days of planning, countless staff and guards. A full royal procession. Even then I’d only be allowed to see what's considered ‘proper’ which excludes pretty much everything. I wouldn’t have known there were places like the Red Lanterns or the homeless encampments near the warehouses. They all pretend those issues don’t exist so they can spend money on stupid parties or whatever else they want.”

“So you want to be a queen of the people.”

“My decisions affect those people. They are my people. Every war we enter, every tax collected, they pay for it while I sit on a throne behind ivory walls and treat them as numbers on a page. I will not let those arrogant old ass holes run my country into the ground while people suffer.”

“Such language from a princess,” Wonwoo gasped in mock shock.

“Shut up, before I freeze you to a wall.”

“How scandalous!”

You looked genuinely thrilled at the idea of sticking him to a wall and leaving him there until morning. 

“So what are you going to do?” he asked.

“I am going pray there is at least one suitable man at next week's festivities and marry him. My grandmother won’t make me but I know it’s why she’s decided to host every single dignitary, ambassador, and wealthy noble she could find. I have a stack of dossiers back in my apartment to review before bed.”

In his world, marriage was for love. Sometimes duty if there was a kid involved but mostly love. Two people choosing each other above all others, for the rest of their lives. That did not appear to be the case for royalty. Marriage was another political decision, picking someone from a catalog after ensuring they checked whatever important boxes.

“Oh. That’s…a good idea.”

“Yes,” you huffed like a petulant child refusing to eat their vegetables. “I can’t wait to have some random spoiled prince try and boss me around my own kingdom.”

“Then don’t marry a prince, I guess.” Wonwoo shrugged. “Or just make him watch your attack some targets again, he’ll be too busy pissing himself to think about telling you what to do.”

“Or I could freeze him to a wall,” you said but when Wonwoo risked a look at your face all he could see was sadness and defeat.

He didn’t like it. Defeat fit you like a jacket six sizes too small. Wonwoo didn’t have words of comfort, what could he say? But when words failed him, he had action.

“Alright, get up. Enough moping.”

“I’m not moping!” you argued, eyes locked on his with defiance.

Good. 

Wonwoo strode to the center of the pavilion without looking back, smiling at the click of footsteps following. “You are and it’s freaking me out.”

“Well, I’m so sorry to inconvenience you.”

“You’re a bad liar, Your Highness.”

You fumed, “I told you not to call me that.”

“And just what are you gonna do about it?” Wonwoo tensed, already prepared for the hit of ice against his skin. It felt good. Familiar. If you were fighting him then he knew what to do instead of feeling that odd desperation to make you smile. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

Two hours later, the pavilion was covered in soot and ice. The ground was scorched in some places and flooded in others. You finally tired and called for a truce that Wonwoo eagerly agreed to. How intimidating it must have been for the princess and her personal guard to limp back to your apartment together, covered in sweat and filth. 

Wonwoo slept like a baby.

The welcoming procession lasted hours. All manner of speeches, gifts, and presentations from the different delegations blended together into a dull thrum. 

Cheeks sore from smiling and butt numb from your perch on your throne, you thanked Prince Bavruq for the abalone chest filled with jewels that reflected light like the sea; greens, blues, and whites projected across the throne room as sun filtered in from the large windows. They were truly beautiful. Just like the other chest of rubies and diamonds from Admiral Gyan or the ensemble of lapis carvings from Senator Maoki. Or any of the other gaudish presents serving as a means to impress you and your grandmother and soften your opinion towards one of them. 

Perhaps you would have been impressed if your neck didn’t ache from the heavy combs of silver and gemstones littering your hair. 

Dinner was an entirely different fiasco.

A feast in the name of camaraderie served as an opportunity for all the guests to appraise and gawk at you like a prized komodo horse. It wasn’t unusual or new sans for the unabashed way they all seemed to be sizing each other up as well. There had been a stand off for the seats directly across and beside you; grown men acting like children wanting first turn with their favorite toy as they shouldered one another and mumbled threats under their breath. 

Your wine glass sat empty before the first course ever arrived.

“Your Highness, I hear you are partial to the tsungi horn. I would be honored to play for you.” A man beside you, dressed in a fine coat that clung to his broad shoulders, said. His golden eyes gleamed like a falcon’s.

“That would be lovely, Lord Char. Thank you.” You lifted your spoon once again from the full bowl of cold soup. Everyone else at the table had nearly finished but your guests insisted on keeping you occupied with conversation rather than eating.

“Princess!” called another man across the table. “I’m not as skilled on the tsungi horn, but perhaps I could play the dramyin for you?”

“I would be delighted, Commander Raza.”

You hated the dramyin.

Someone else began speaking and the edges of your bowl frosted, ice crystals floating across the oily surface as you tried to gain composure. A servant intervened before you could follow through on the idea of throwing it at the scraggly bearded noble boasting his accomplishments in poetry. Princesses did not launch their meals at unsuspecting men. 

Others began clearing the remaining dishes before new plates arrived with thick slices of meat covered in peppered sauce and vinegared vegetables. You were quick to take a bite before someone new could interrupt to discuss another dreadful instrument.

“We shall make an event of it,” your grandmother clapped from the head of the table. “A night to display the unique talents of your kingdoms. My granddaughter is partial to cultural affairs.”

“What a lovely idea but I don’t believe we have the time with—”

“Nonsense! Night after next we shall have a splendid performance,” she gazed at you with a bright smile as if to say deal with it. “But tonight, we will eat.”

You bit your tongue until dessert came. A terrible coincidence that the moon peach tarts with cream were your favorite. Maybe Han can bring some up to your room. A servant passed by, filling Lord Char’s glass. You waited with both hands tucked beneath the edge of the table for Lord Char to grab for his cup. When he did, you tugged at the blood in his veins, barely enough to make the muscles jump.

“My dress!” you gasped.

The few people who had not been watching you like a petting zoo animal whipped around, mouths open in horror.

“Your Highness, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean…Let me help you!” Lord Char stammered, the contents of his drink puddled across the table and your lap. He grabbed for his napkin but floundered with the realization he couldn’t touch you.

“I believe you have done enough, Your Grace,” you bit out. Wine stained the front of your gown in large splotches, the blue of the fabric mixing with red to resemble a giant ugly bruise. A true shame, to destroy such fine silks. But ruining a brand new dress was worth escaping the evening. “Excuse me.”

You ignored the silent reprimand blooming on your grandmother’s face, allowing servants to crowd you with towels as they led you from the dining room swiftly. Her ire would be dealt with later when the voices of whiny nobles no longer rattled through your ears.

Lord Char followed spouting more apologies. “Princess Y/N, my hand slipped! I would never mean to—”

“Excuse me, Lord Char. I find myself needing to change out of my favorite gown since it is ruined.” 

He deflated and stepped aside as you continued on your path.

“I am fine.” You brushed away the servants once the heavy doors shut, dismissing them back to their posts. “I will be retiring early this evening.”

Bending the liquid soaking your gown into a potted plant, you continued to your room with a pair of footsteps echoing behind.

Wonwoo watched the skyline of the city glow with light from your bedroom window while you…did whatever you did with your lady’s maids in your bathroom. 

Logically, he knew but refused to dwell on such things. He had plenty of knowledge of what you looked like naked and soaking wet, at least from the waist up. And plenty of imaginations of the rest. There was no reason to add to his suffering by ruminating the gentle splashes echoing through the door.

Or the…giggling.

How many times had you looked at this same view? Watched a city you never experienced right at your feet thrum to life every night while you remained out of sight? Locked away in your tower night after night, wallowing and alone after your staff retired for the evening; imagination running wild with all sorts of activities might be taking place and wanting a slice for yourself.

And then you did just that. An incredibly foolish endeavor but his chest warmed with fond pride. He imagined what you would say if presented with that fact.

Only foolish if I was caught. 

Wonwoo hadn’t considered the trouble you went through to sneak out the palace and down into the Middle district. It was at least an hour on foot assuming you didn’t encounter any delays, probably more since there was never a word of suspicious activity taking place in the Nobles Quarter. Foolish but not foolish at all.

Then he thought, how many nights had he paced the same streets just outside the palace walls, completely unaware that you were locked in this tower. That you ran straight across his path while he remained none the wiser. The night after he met you in the market, when he wandered the streets during his rounds consumed with thoughts of you; only for you to be right here.

Two people so close yet worlds apart.

After what felt like hours, your maids, Han and Sami, filed out to prepare your room, turning down the bed and stoking the dwindling fire.

Sami fed the flames another log and looked at him. “Mind helping?” 

“I’m not a butler,” Wonwoo said but manipulated the dying flame until Sami waved him away.

Technically, Wonwoo was allowed to retire to his rooms now. He’d swept the windows and building tops for potential threats and found none (he never did). But Han and Sami were good company despite their constant teasing. It felt good to talk to someone other than you or Mingyu. 

“So what did you think?”

“Of what?”

Han rolled her eyes as if he was an idiot to not understand exactly what she meant. “The suitors.”

Wonwoo could have said a great many opinions. Lord Char smelled like a brothel and Senator Maoki’s carvings looked rather phallic to be the sea serpents and lion turtles they were meant to be. Prince Jao’s singing made him want to jump off a building but not before pushing the man off first. Wonwoo especially didn’t care for the way they leered at you like starved wolves.

But his opinions did not matter.

“I’m not a matchmaker either,” he huffed.

“Men really undervalue the fun of good gossip.”

“What did you think then?” he asked, arms crossed. 

“Prince Bavruq is so dreamy,” Sami crooned.

“He’s forty!” Han laughed.

“I’ve always liked an older man. He’s so…dignified.”

“Then maybe he’ll take you back to the North Pole with him,” Wonwoo added. It felt good to be a part of something again. In the barracks they played games and joked every night. He didn’t realize how much he missed it until now.

“A flower is only as good as its petals and my petals are too delicate to be locked away in the North Pole!”

Han snorted from across the room. “You’re as delicate as those rocks Chancellor Kabaar gifted her.”

“Now talk about a man,” Sami swooned.

You entered the room wrapped in a thick robe. “You are dismissed.”

Han and Sami bowed out but not before giggling again. When your face soured it only grew louder.

“Something funny?” he asked, watching the maids leaving through the door as they cackled to themselves.

You sat on the chair next to the window – eyes on the same sights Wonwoo watched earlier – and blew out a disgruntled breath.“Besides the fact that I was doused with wine in front of a hundred people?”

“Yeah, considering you did that to yourself.”

You raised an eyebrow. It was difficult to keep track of the masks you wore: a proper princess in front of others, the confident siren of the field, the force of nature from the training pavilion. They all slipped and rose so swiftly Wonwoo couldn’t keep track. “You dare suggest that I would purposefully sabotage dinner?”

“Based on past experience I can empathize with Lord Char on being made a fool at your hand.”

“Save your sympathies for someone more deserving than him. He is a terrible flirt with a gambling addiction which I supposed would be less of an issue if he ever actually won,” you said sourly. 

At least he had a concrete reason to dislike Char besides his smell.

“So you admit you did it on purpose?”

“Of course I did it on purpose but if you want to go rejoin them then by all means. Jao is probably performing some of those Earth Kingdom poems still.”

“Are they always so self important?”

“They are princelings from the richest and most powerful families in the world. Usually they’re worse.” 

You passed Wonwoo a tea cup, and without thought he warmed it between his palms until it was steaming before handing it back. “Hard to imagine that.”

“At my eighteenth birthday party a game of ice marbles turned into a wrestling match and they destroyed the south courtyard.”

“Well then,” he clapped. “At least the talent show will be interesting.” 

Wonwoo turned to leave, the sound of your amused snort tugging at that warm place in his heart carved just for you.

If someone asked what he thought a princess’ day looked like before he came to the palace, he would have assumed it was days full of tea parties and mindless chatter. An easy life filled with nothing but comfort and luxury.

But the more time Wonwoo spent attending meetings and meals, the more he realized the palace was a viper pit covered in the finest lace and gold.

Meetings upon meetings upon meetings left his head swimming. Every conversation was layered with double meaning, from chatter on tea selection to the actual topics. It seemed like a knot that only became more tangled as he focused on unraveling it. 

You seemed to navigate it easily though, the eerie mask of diplomacy firmly in place. 

“Admiral Gyan, I understand that we have trade agreements,” you said, face smooth as a pearl but your eyes gleamed like you had your boot on his throat. “However, it is in the best interest of both of our people to make amends to terms that predate our births.”

Gyan picked at the spread of tea cakes and snacks, ignoring you completely in favor of snagging the last sweet bun. “All this talk of trade is rather tiresome, don’t you think? Tell me Princess, what is your favorite flower?”

Wonwoo watched you shut your eyes with a deep silent breath. 

He prepared to intervene if needed; however, the admiral deserved to be knocked around a bit. An hour long discussion and all he asked was about your favorite sweets and candies (his were cherry nut tarts and jennamite), if you preferred the summer to winter (he liked summers), and your opinion on whether the Royal Theater’s production of Love amongst the Dragons outdid The Lost Slipper (nothing compared to The Echoes of Spirits).

Wonwoo made the mistake of implying the need for a chaperone for these meetings, considering most verged on courting rather than business, and he knew most guards waited outside the door during private meetings. Wonwoo was mortified to learn he was not only a guard but a nanny as well. 

“Two birds one stone,” you said as Han smoothed the creases from your robe. “I need a guard and chaperone, and most leaders do not want to talk business with too many prying ears.”

The unsaid parts were clear; Wonwoo was a servant. Wonwoo was nobody next to these men who demanded respect for simply being born to the right people. The more appointments he attended, the more his resentment boiled. It was no different then the hundreds of times he stepped aside for men of higher status in the Nobles Quarter or the barracks. He never thought much of it before, it was simply something he’d been trained to do for years. So why did it bother him now?

Each dignitaries had done quite the same as Gyan, only perhaps a touch subtler; at least their attempts at flattery were related to trade agreements. Every asinine inquiry They were eager to make up for time missed at dinner the previous night, and your absence at breakfast this morning. Every single one began their time with a high chin and starry eyes, only to leave disillusioned from your insistence to discuss policy and finance. To their knowledge you were not officially seeking marriage, they were simply hopeful for the inevitable day you did. 

How unaware they were of how soon that day came. Wonwoo read the dossiers; scanned them for anything of consequence: questionable relations, suspicious behaviors. For security purposes, of course. But one was the same as the last. Second borns never trained to take their own crowns who liked to spend their days indulging in hunting or drinking. Or, sons of rich families with strategic influence and holdings dating back centuries. And then, there were the well off military figures with armies more loyal to them than their nation.

Admiral Gyan happened to be all three. 

“Ice lilies,” you sighed. “As I was saying—”

Gyan picked at some invisible lint at his sleeve. From his position against the wall, Wonwoo could see the way Gyan stared wistfully out the window instead of the papers you presented across the table. Not that Gyan could see them if he looked, his snacking left them covered in powdered sugar. Your attempt at serious political engagements turned into a place setting. 

Wonwoo focused back on one of the paintings across the room. It wasn’t his concern and yet, despite everything, he’d begun to consider you a friend, or at the very least an acquaintance; someone he felt familiar enough with to feel annoyed on their behalf. But Wonwoo didn’t need much familiarity for the way these men talked down and disregarded your words to leave ash in his mouth.

“I’m allergic to ice lilies,” Gyan said pensively.

You blinked. “How unfortunate. Again, these trade—”

“If your husband did not like something you preferred, what would you do?”

“Not marry a man allergic to my favorite flower.” You stiffened, realizing the error of your ways. Then you dipped your chin and whispered. “However, a man that helps my country would be far more valuable as a husband than a man who can tolerate my…floral preference. Would you agree?”

Admiral Gyan studied for a long moment before speaking again.

The ink of the new agreements dried by that afternoon.

A long day of discussions left you irritable. It would have been different if any of the lordlings you met argued their terms on tariffs and trade, or introduced their own nation’s concerns. But no. They’d rather interrogate you on asinine details like your favorite teas and opinions on Earth Kingdom literature. 

Perhaps that would be important after you officially took suitors into consideration but presently, they were invited with the intent of international diplomatic cooperation. Not eat all your food and ruin court records.

Dinner continued in the same fashion as the night before: too little eating and too much chatter. And since you couldn’t get away with bowing out early again, you were forced to remain through the entire ordeal. You managed a few bites between their lengthy monologues but after the meal you left with a grumbling stomach and a thunderous headache.

Back in your apartments, you fell into deep thought while Han and Sami flurried around as they pulled away your outer layers and plucked out the jewels in your hair. 

“Any interesting developments today? Men declaring their undying devotion?” Han asked as she untied your slippers.

“Prince Bravruq promised he would perform some water tribe dance tomorrow night…shirtless.” You smiled at Sami’s reddening face. “But other than that, thankfully, no.”

“Not even our favorite broody guard?”

“For the last time, Wonwoo is simply doing his duty. He does not have…feelings.”

“I don’t know,” Sami sang. “He seemed upset when we asked him about all your new suitors last night. And after the council meeting? He is rather handsome when he’s all roughed up.”

“I think he’s handsome all the time,” Han said.

“Even if he did like me, nothing could come of it,” you reminded yourself. 

“How many stories do you know where a princess falls in love with a commoner and they live happily ever after?”

“And how many do the princess and commoner lose their heads?”

“You’re always so serious. It’s not good for your complexion.”

“Well why didn’t you say that earlier?” you gasped. “There is nothing between Wonwoo and I. We are… friends. Maybe. But that's it.”

Sensing the end of the conversation, they drew your bath before you waved a dismissive hand. 

The hot water soothed away your anger from the day, softening the tense muscles of your shoulders and back. Your eyes slipped shut as you sunk further into the tub, head resting back on the rim of the tub. Events of the day replayed, your mind sorting successes and failures, what agreements remained unsigned and how to do so. And then there was the matter of courting. Your intent to marry was barely a whispered rumor amongst staff and yet these men tripped over themselves like bumbling idiots.

But you no longer wished to think of business and wedding bells. You’d rather indulge in more relaxing imaginations.

At first there was nothing at all, just the lap of hot water at your throat sending prickles along your flesh. The water was adorned with different oils and soaps and felt like liquid silk. It allowed your hands to glide without friction, teasing drags of fingers against your sides until your nipples tightened. You remembered what it was like when Wonwoo touched them, first his hands, then his mouth, then the satisfying sting of his teeth. The times you tried to imitate those sensations only left you wanting.

Memories of the encounters had brought little satisfaction. Recalling how it felt was nowhere near as good as it actually had been, never brought the same pleasurable ending. And yet you tortured yourself with trying.

He really was handsome. Not just in the narrow cut of his uniform that clung to his shoulders, or when he removed his outer layers to reveal what hid beneath. He was most handsome when he didn’t realize you were looking. When whatever lordling tried to win your favor with overzealous compliments, Wonwoo couldn’t help rolling his eyes and biting back a laugh.

Or when his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through a particularly challenging form, muscles flexing and bunching; sweat gleaming off his skin, sticking his hair down. 

Your hand ventured lower, a tease between your thighs, fingers soft against your clit just how he touched you. The bathroom is quiet sans your breath; miniscule sighs breaking through your lips as candles flickered around the room. It’d do nothing to think about the field but maybe what you needed was a new fantasy.

With firmer pressure, you imagined Wonwoo walking in, finding you touching yourself and offering to help; taking advantage of the slick glide between your legs, filling that horrible emptiness with the warmth of his hand. The tub was large enough for him to join. You could plant in his lap and ride his fingers like last time or, he could sit behind you, the heat of his chest firm against your back as he left those maddening kisses against your neck again. 

You slipped a finger in, the tight squeeze nothing next to the desperation for more. The water muffled the sound of depravity as you fucked yourself timidly, only gentle splashes betraying movement and mute whines. Your chin tipped back as your hips rose in search of more. Rocking into the heel of your hand, you bit back a moan. The Wonwoo of your fantasy dragged you out of the tub and into bed, spread you beneath him to use his mouth against your core; kissing and sucking the same place you desperately touched. He teased how badly you needed him, eyes trained on your reactions from between your legs.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. Your muscles twitched again, clenching around your fingers, pretending they were his until your back arched and then—

The walls of the tub proved far too slippery as you thrashed into an orgasm, sinking beneath the surface unexpectedly.

You gasped for breath once surfacing again, flailing and splashing water onto the floor loudly. The bath had run cold in your mentally wandering and jolted you back to your senses. The delirious lull in your muscles fled as you kicked off from the bottom of the pool sized tub and back to your perch. 

Wonwoo chose that moment to barge in. 

He slammed the door open, rushing in and eyes scanning the room. “Is everything okay? I heard—”

“I’m fine!” you shouted, face heating as your voice bounced around the room. “I slipped.”

Wonwoo looked like he didn’t believe it. A waterbender having trouble in the bath? Unlikely. But he accepted it without question and straightened before asking, “Where are Han and Sami?”

Whatever warmth and longing rooted in your chest moments ago fizzled at his question. “Do you think I’m incapable of bathing on my own?”

“No, I…”

At that moment, Wonwoo recognized your state, eyes tracing the slope of your neck down, down, down until the surface of the water obstructed his view. The bubbles from earlier had fizzled to nothing, fine as sea foam and scattered like wispy clouds. If he stepped closer then everything would be visible. You were torn between sinking deeper and rising up, revealing your bare chest for his gaze. What would he do?

There was no one to interrupt, servants gone and the day done until sunrise. Wonwoo could touch you. You’d let him for as long as he liked, as many times as it took for that terrible clawing, demanding need to cease. You could drag him into the water and make every horrible dream and intoxicating fantasy plaguing you for weeks a reality.

But Wonwoo did nothing, simply stood there blankly, eyes trained on your throat. The warm light from dozens of candles danced over his face, flickering wildly but not revealing what was brewing beneath the surface of his glazed stare. You had an idea from the way his breath became labored and his fingers flexed but he didn’t move a muscle.

And then he promptly turned on his heel and strode back towards the door. 

“Wait,” you called, startled by your own voice. What were you doing? “Can you warm this for me?”

Wonwoo stopped immediately. You watched his shoulders tense, slowly rising to his reddening ears before he responded, “Your bath?”

The candles around the room grew for a moment. But he didn’t turn around, instead he looked over his shoulder and pinned you with an expectant look. You began to speak, a dismissal at the tip of your tongue, but ultimately nodded. Silently, he approached, eyes glued to your face. A jolt of heat cracked through your veins. Ears ringing, your breath grew stunted with every step that brought him closer. 

Wonwoo loomed over you, shrugging off his uniform jacket, still maintaining eye contact as each button loosed beneath his fingers. Your own twitched in response, aching to return between your legs for him to watch. He pushed the sleeves of his undershirt up to his elbows. He only broke eye contact to perch at the edge of the tub, back facing you. His hand sunk just past his wrist beneath the surface of the water. He grazed your knee and jerked away with a splash. You bit your tongue to stop from pushing your knee against him again.

His hand bunched into a fist, heat blooming through the water until steam rose from its surface. The contrast of his skin next to your beneath the water made your mouth water as he forced out more heat. 

As his hand rose once again, rivulets clinged to sinew and ligaments in his arm. You remembered how he looked in that field, soaked to the bone in the moonlight. The cling of his pants revealing the muscles below. Every ripple of those muscles when he moved, when he rolled into your grip on his cock.

“And this.” You nudged his hand with your wash rag, swallowing thickly when he accepted it. Again, Wownoo refused to look as his fingers flexed around the fabric, veins rising from the force of his grip, more of those tempting drops of water clinging to his skin. The strangest urge to suck them from his fingers rooted in your head. Steam rose from the cloth and he passed it back, hot and dripping.

“Anything else?” His hand remained floating between you. How badly you wanted to slide your fingers between his and tug until he found the arousal between your legs.

Now reach back into this tub and warm me, you thought.

“That–” you stuttered. “That's all. Thank you.”

Wonwoo left and the candles returned to their dim flutter.

After scrubbing your skin raw, you exited the bath. Despite your earlier fatigue, you knew there was no point in trying to sleep now. You’d only lay awake, tempted by the idea of sneaking down the hall to Wonwoo’s room and making your imaginations reality. There was no point sitting in your room, tossing and turning and itching and pining for something else. You could have slipped out your window and hid in the gardens, burn the restlessness in the training pavilion until exhaustion took over. 

But Wonwoo would find you. You knew he would; he managed to do so repeatedly. When you refused to retire for the evening he would offer to train with you. And then it was back to square one, the same tension from the close quarters of the bathroom, except with the bloodrush of bending and memories of the last time you both fought beneath the moonlight. 

The thick stack of papers balanced on your bed table; treaties and amendments forged during the day, signed in your own blood, sweat, and tears. Additionally reports from different advisors shuffled through the stack. If you couldn’t sleep then getting work done for tomorrow was the only solution. 

In the dining room, you rung a servant to bring leftovers from dinner you never ate. They returned with a spread of stuffed cabbage rolls, salted meats, and other dishes. Far more piled on the table than you could ever hope to eat, despite your ravenous appetite. Without the pretense of formal dining, you nibbled and read a new batch of reports from Lord Gilen about the Lower Block hospital you’d invested in since the spring. The numbers provided little distraction as you heard Wonwoo move around the apartment like a ghost.

“Sorry, I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Can’t.” You flashed the papers in his direction and went back to reading. You couldn’t look at him. Not sitting there in a robe and nightgown, skin still warm from the bath. He could part it easily, reach inside and—

He remained in the doorway, gaze like a heavy weight on your shoulders. 

“Eat. It’ll go to waste if you don’t.”

Wonwoo hesitated but then shuffled forward and took a seat at the opposite end before piling a plate with food. Still, your eyes remained glued to another row of swirled ink that turned illegible to your distracted mind as he slurped and grunted. More horribly tempting thoughts seeded as he continued.

Appetite vanishing with your sanity, you focused on carefully sipping your cold tea and read on. Lord Gilen’s missive was long and detailed and a perfectly appropriate distraction from the fact Wonwoo hadn’t put his jacket back on. 

“What are you reading?” Wonwoo asked.

“Reports for a hospital in the Lower Block I’ve been funding. Lord Gilen has been handling it for me.”

You continued reading. The lapse in judgment in the bathroom was just that, a mistake. You were a princess and needed to act like one; not some bumbling infatuated maiden. 

Still, you wanted to snag the pitcher from the table and hurl it at the wall.

“A hospital in the Lower Block? Yeah, sure,” he snorted. 

Your head snapped up. “I have the documents right here.”

“I’m telling you, there is no hospital in the Lower Block.”

“Look for yourself.”

Wonwoo scanned the pages, brows furrowed. A bit of sugar from the coconut puffs clung to his lip. You wanted to lick it off.

“I walked this street every time I went from the barracks to the warehouse. Unless he somehow demolished a condemned burnt out building and built a brand new one in its place in the time I’ve been here, then it doesn’t exist.”

The poise you’d painstakingly clung to since exiting the bath dissolved. If what Wonwoo said was true then Gilen was a liar. If the hospital didn’t exist then over twenty thousand gold marks were unaccounted for; twenty thousand gold marks vanished into nothing, and Lord Gilen was to blame. Lord Gilen who’d been in court since you were a baby, a favorite advisor of your grandmother’s, a close confidant. It was impossible.

Stacks of falsified documents with forged signatures, counterfeit invoices for materials to rebuild and train healers. Sketches and blueprints of the building. Patient records for people who didn’t exist. If Gilen was embezzling the money there was a paper trail of his misdeeds a mile long. 

But he had encouraged your investments; presented multiple projects of his own design, touting the needs of the people with zeal. Managed the entire process with assiduity and constant progress reports down to the last detail. Gilen wouldn’t conspire a tangled plot like this. It only took a gentle tug at a loose end and the entire tapestry of his scheming unraveled.

And yet, Wonwoo never provided a reason not to trust him.

Whatever simpering girl you’d been in the bathroom holed up behind a hard mask of anger. “Show me.”

“What?”

Brushing the papers aside, you rose. “I’m going to the Lower Block and you’re going to show me.”

You didn’t wait for him to follow, blinded by rage. The rest of the apartment was empty of servants as you paced the seating area. 

You ripped the overstuffed couches to shreds.

You screamed until your throat bled.

You stood in frozen silence and did nothing but stare blankly ahead.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“If you think I’m going to sneak you out of the palace you’re out of your mind.” Wonwoo said as he entered the room.

You turned towards him and stared for a moment. “Then I’ll go by myself.”

“You’re not going to the city this late at night, it’s at least—”

You rounded on him, until you were toe to toe with a finger digging into his chest. “You do not tell me what to do. I’m the princess and you are my glorified nanny.”

Wonwoo glared down at your hand twisted in his shirt. You began to withdraw it, realizing your mistake, but he snatched it with a firm grip and kept it between your bodies and met your gaze.

“I’m not one of your little lordlings you can push around and make agree just because you bat your eyes. Go to the city, and I will walk out that door and tell everyone.”

It wasn’t fitting for a woman of your age and rank to stomp and huff like a begrudged child but you did it anyway.

“Why don’t you just chain me to the bed and leave me until morning!” you sneered but faltered at the spark in his gaze.

“If you give me no other choice, I will.”

Yanking your hand back, you retreated to your room. “You are so infuriating!”

Wonwoo didn’t know how you got into the city. He didn’t know the passage in your office or the labyrinth beneath the gardens that lead outside the palace walls. Sneaking out your window was less convenient but no one knew the gardens better than you. If he chased, you’d lose him and he could only reveal your location by admitting he failed his one job. 

You blew out the candles and sat in the dark for a long moment as the moon rose outside your window. Shedding your robe and nightgown, you donned the servants clothes and cloak you stole long ago then stuffed the robe and some pillows beneath the covers in the shape of a body. 

Careful of the squeaky hinges, you cracked the window open slowly with baited breath. 

“Going somewhere?” Wonwoo asked from the doorway.

You stiffened. “If you must know, I was feeling a bit stifled and thought a breeze would be nice.”

“And the breeze gave you a chill so you got dressed?”

“Is that so difficult to believe?”

He entered your room and dragged the covers back with a quirked brow as if to say ‘Do you think I’m that dumb?’

“If you recall, I’ve done this countless times without you and never been caught.”

“There's a line between bravery and stupidity.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” you gasped, even in the dark you could see the exhaustion on his face.

“I’m calling you heedless. You can’t just run down to the Lower Block on a whim. It’s dangerous,” Wonwoo said, voice thin. “Where Galin says the hospital is is no place for—”

“For a princess?”

“For anyone to go alone. I wouldn’t go there alone because I know what happens on those streets. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into and you don’t care.”

In your haste safety seemed like a minor concern. You held your own enough times and this would be no different. Wonwoo didn’t seem to understand this wasn’t a matter of pride, it was principal. You weren’t a puppet that nobles could tug at your strings however they pleased. And if Galin, trusted and venerated Galin, was playing you a fool then there was no telling what the other, less favored, nobles did in the dark. 

Treachery was an infection in the open wound of your trust and you needed to amputate the limb before it could spread. But not without proof.

“I am being made a fool of by my own councilman,” you started. “He is stealing from me and thinks he can get away with it, that I would have no way of knowing because I’m kept under lock and key here. I need to see it with my own eyes. You do not have to come with me but you cannot honestly expect me to stay here."

Wonwoo watched for a long moment then stormed out of the room without response. You feared he ran to tell someone of your plan and raced to open the window.

“If we get caught I swear—”

You whipped around at the sound of his voice. Wonwoo strode in dressed in casual clothes similar to yours; trousers and a long sleeved tunic, a hood to conceal his face. 

“You’re coming with me?”

“Of course I’m coming with you. Knowing you, you’ll blast some poor drunk with a canon unprovoked and we both know how that turned out. Let's go.”

You silently led Wonwoo through a secret door in your private office, down, down, down until the walls transformed from the stone of the palace to dirt with wooden slats supporting the structure. There were no lanterns so he kept a small flame alive in his palm. He tried to keep his bearings through each twist and turn but soon failed. He figured the walk had been long enough to be far outside the palace grounds but each switch back left him more unsure.

Suddenly, the dirt floor turned into cobblestone and the walls followed soon after and then an iron ladder leading up appeared from nowhere. 

“This lets out beneath the crystal elephant statue in Emerald Park,” you said before climbing.

Wonwoo walked the perimeter of Emerald Park hundreds of times; circled the statue dozens of times and never realized there was a secret passage in all this time. He knew there were secrets the Nobles Quarter kept from him but not a path into the palace right under his nose.

The park was empty. Fountains bubbled and frogs croaked, the low light of gas street lamps providing enough cover to reach the southern exit towards the Middle District gates.

The shuffle of feet alerted him to a patrol up ahead. It was only another block to the gates leading into the Middle District and yet, he found himself having to crouch in an alley while a few guards walked past. You hid somewhere behind him. Truly, it was the last place he wanted to be with you after the incident in the bath.

He should have said no; refused to come anywhere near you while you were undressed. But he couldn’t help it. It was as if you were a siren singing straight to his blood. When you asked him to come closer, he tried not to look beneath the surface of the water but it was in vain. Even in his peripheral he saw the slope of your breasts, the pinch of your nipples. It hadn’t been better to look at your face. Your dilated pupils and flushed cheeks, bitten lips. Just like the night in the field.

It took all his willpower not to drag you from the tub, spread you on the bed, and taste you until all he heard were hoarse cries of his name; begging, praising, even a reprimand. He wanted them all and he half expected you to ask for them when he took his coat off; prepared to unbutton his trousers as well. A single glance would have told you everything, the tightness of his pants unbearable. But you asked him to heat your water and your rag and then dismissed him without another word. 

When he heard you pattering about the dining room, he planned to ask just what game you were playing but you pretended nothing happened. 

Now, he was hidden in the shadows of an alley with you less than a foot away and rather than worry about guards catching him, all Wonwoo’s thoughts were captured by images of you pressed between his body and the wall.

The patrol passed by without suspicion. Wonwoo signaled you to follow once again. The sooner you saw the imaginary hospital in the Lower Block, the sooner he’d be free to lock himself away until sunrise. 

As the gates came into view, you tugged Wonwoo’s sleeve and directed him off the main road, through narrow side streets and more alleys until the stone wall separating the Nobles Quarter and the Middle District came into view. Here, there were no guards and Wonwoo didn’t remember ever circling this area during his years of patrols. Another secret.

The wall was a foot taller than him so he hoisted you up before following. Restaurants and shops backed up to the wall on the Middle District side. This late, few were open, most windows and open doors framed employees sweeping or cleaning up the last bits of mess. None looked up from their work as you both snuck past.

Wonwoo’s feet pounded against the cobblestone as he darted down the street, you behind him, footsteps echoing loudly. Physical exhaustion felt good. His lungs burned and muscles strained but it gave him something to think about other than the heat of your chest against his body when dipping into an alcove to hide from a passing group. Most of the streets this far out were still crowded with late night partiers.

“Take off your hood,” he commanded, removing his own.

“Why?”

“Because we look like thieves. No one will recognize you out here and it’ll be easier to get through.”

Your hood came off, and Wonwoo was struck by how similar you looked to the night at the market. Hair fluffed around your face, the sheen of perspiration for the balmy night. He wanted to kiss you.

He stepped out from hiding and started down the street. 

“I’ve never been this way before,” you shared. The crowd grew thicker and forced you to remain tight to his side or risk drifting away. 

“You have. Down that street,” he gestured, “are the Red Lanterns.”

In all fairness, Wonwoo wouldn’t have known about the seedy avenue unless he stumbled on it as a teenager. It was the first time he saw…many things and he’d avoided it ever since. They were not memories he ever thought of voluntarily. 

The crowd flowed further away from the palace, until the stacked buildings of Merchant’s Row transformed into warehouses and empty lots. The people changed too. No longer did couples of all ages and children flitter about, gone were poets and musicians and artists busking on the corners. The only light came from the waxing moon and windows, not the gas street lamps up the block.

The Lower Block was a slum.

Wonwoo kept walking as you looked  around as if the street was a zoo full of exotics; eyes wide and shining in the light like coins. The streets used to be pristine, organized chaos at all hours. Guards, manufacturers, and merchants would weave between the buildings like armies of ants, raw materials pouring in from carts and goods immediately replacing them for transport. The Lower Block used to be pristine.

Now, old men crouched around overturned crates as they played cards and drank from green glass bottles; wiry kids chased stray dogs across the poorly paved street; vendors hawked fruits and vegetables more rotten than fresh, cloying the air with sickening sweetness. Uneven cobblestones hosted potholes large enough to bath in when it rained.

Luckily, no one paid much attention to a couple stumbling about like drunkards, they were all too absorbed in themselves. However, one glance and the entire charade would unravel. Your posture was straight as a razor edge, chin tipped back; as if you owned the world. You did, Wonwoo guessed. Everything – from the smallest pebble to the gigantic steamers in the western harbor – was yours. 

Wine houses lined the street, dirty alleys wedge between. Wonwoo knew the wine houses well enough; where other fighters from the warehouse went after matches to find another conquest for the night or drink themselves numb. He’d done both enough times to fear being recognized.

“Come here,” he commanded. You gave in easily when he hid his face in the curve of your neck. The scent of wildflowers and soap tickled his senses, and Wonwoo barely contained himself from pressing his nose more firmly beneath your jaw.

“What are you doing?” you murmured but didn’t push him away.

“Hiding.”

“What for?”

“Not all of us have the benefit of being anonymous.”

“You’ve been to these places?” you said. Wonwoo followed your gaze to a brothel, scantily clad women and men lounging around the wide porches, attempting to lure passersby. 

He didn’t answer.

“Is that why you said I’d be a bad prostitute? Speaking from experience?”

“I never paid anyone,” he argued.

“It’s okay if you did,” you laughed. “Not everyone can be so lucky with women.”

Even through his frustration, Wonwoo wanted to bottle the sound of your laughter; taste it on his tongue, feel it against his lips. He wanted to push you back into the darkness of the alleyway and remind you just how lucky he’d been not so long ago. He wanted to rip his hair out because agreeing to spend more time with you tonight was a horrible idea. 

At the next intersection, Wonwoo turned you down a narrow street. The lively crowd’s absence left a hollow silence. A handful of people milled about, shifting through the shadows like sharks. The warehouse Lord Gilen posed as a hospital stood halfway down the block. Covered in rotten boards and rusted chains, there was no trace that anyone had been near it in years. 

You pulled away from Wonwoo as you approached the ransacked building. “You’re sure this is it?”

“Even if I wasn’t, do any buildings here look like a hospital to you?”

Your fist clenched and he stepped back slightly. Wonwoo expected tangible anger like in the training pavilion; icicles the size of a human, a flood pulled from the humid air of the night. But you stood silently, unmoving. If your anger in the pavilion was a storm, Wonwoo felt as if he was in the eye of a hurricane. 

Hurricanes always brought wreckage.

You drew some water from a pouch at your hip, weaving it into the lock before it cracked and the chains slouched. Wonwoo didn’t wait for an invitation to follow you inside. 

There was no light inside, the windows were caked in thick dust. He lit a flame in his hand but there wasn’t much to see. An empty warehouse full of garbage: broken machines, rotten newspapers, broken crates. Something rustled beneath a heap in the corner. A fat elephant rat scurried out and darted out of sight.

Again, you stood still like a statue, soaking in the realities. Silence spread into the warehouse like an ink stain.

“Let's go.”

The walk back to the palace was in thick silence; not the silence of before when Wonwoo couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss you or turn around and renounce his assignment for the sake of his sanity. It was the unnerving silence just before something went horribly wrong. 

You kept ahead, shoulders square, head high. It wasn’t the performance you gave nobles, or the wildness from when bent your element. This was a new mask Wonwoo couldn’t decipher. 

In your apartment, you walked straight to your room and Wonwoo watched as the door shut with a quiet click.

Wonwoo woke covered in sweat. Even hidden behind a curtain of dark clouds he could feel the sun just peaking above the horizon. 

He wasn’t sure what the day held but he showered and put on his uniform like every other morning. When he exited his room, maids and footmen fluttered about like every other morning, you at the center of the storm. You acted the same as every other morning as well, sipping your tea and scanning a stack of documents.

Wonwoo hovered in the hall entrance, unsure of what to do. The anger charged atmosphere of last night vanished from the sitting room though that might be due to the presence of others than anything else. Displays of emotion were reserved for private, when no one but Wonwoo paid witness. Your face was impassive in the early dawn light, completely unperturbed. Unlike other mornings, he noticed the usual jewels pinned in your hair and clinging to your throat were absent. Only a pale ribbon tied around your neck. Your dress was a modest lavender, no flashy embroidery or outlandish cuts; but it was more to do with the woman wearing it than the dress itself. He didn’t know when he started paying attention to such things. But the first lesson you taught him was looks can be deceiving and you would bank on that fact.

“Stop hiding in the shadows like a ghost, it's off putting,” Sami said as she strode by him.

“I’m not hiding,” Wonwoo argued. If he was hiding it was for good reason; a man never knew he stepped foot into a riptide until it was too late.

“Like a little boy afraid Koh is hiding under his bed,” she teased.

“Leave him alone, Sami,” you called from the table. 

Sami turned and stuck her tongue out at him. This must be what it was like to have sisters.

“Everything in the Solarium is set and this,” Sami placed an envelope on the table in front of you. “Han is making copies of the records now.”

“After she’s done, Mingyu is to escort her to the archives after the meeting. Make sure people see them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Finally, you looked at Wonwoo. “Let’s go.”

You glided through the palace hallways, greeting everyone who crossed your path. Again, just like every other day. The longer you pretended last night didn’t bother you the more unnerved he became.

He’d never been in the Solarium and wouldn’t soon return back if it could be helped. It was a spectacular enclosed glass structure on a terrace overhanging the gardens. That was not the problem. The Solarium was a greenhouse turned into a meeting room with a low table in the center surrounded by cushions, with a tier of teacakes and pitchers precariously placed. Gigantic plants with leaves the size of dinner plates crowded so thickly around the walls it was like entering a forest. Blossoms in shades of red and blue and white and yellow peppered throughout, their floral scent thickening the air like a putrid perfume. There was no wind to move the smell, it stagnated in the humidity as fountains bubbled cheerfully in the background.

“What are we doing here?”

You ignored the question. “Can you firebend in here?”

Wonwoo conjured a small flame in his palm but with the abundance of moisture it swiftly began to choke and flicker. “You came to a greenhouse for what exactly?”

You started to answer but a knock at the door interrupted.

As the footman entered to announce Lord Galin’s arrival, Wonwoo moved towards the wall next to the door; his station where he oversaw your meetings time and time again. Best to play his part even if you refused to share the script you were operating from.

“Lord Galin,” you smiled in greeting. Every inch of you reverted back into the meekness Wonwoo witnessed that first day in the barracks. A delicate flower, so beautiful you forgot it’s filled with poison.

“Your Highness,” the old man bowed deeply. “You look more radiant than the last time I saw you.”

“I apologize we couldn’t meet in the Azure Chamber. It flooded sometime last night.”

Whatever happened in the chamber last night, Wonwoo figured you fashioned it somehow.

“No apologies necessary, the Solarium is just as magnificent though it is quite humid here.”

“I forget not everyone is as unbothered by it as I am.” You led Galin to the table, taking the far seat so you faced Wonwoo. He kept his gaze trained on the back of Galin’s head.

“Let us eat first and then we shall talk business, yes?” You sat and plucked a slice of pear from a serving plate. “How are your grandsons?”

“Citree just began his tutoring. He’s a very gifted firebender.”

You glanced at Wonwoo over the man's shoulder. “Like his grandfather.”

The puzzle pieces clicked into place in Wonwoo’s head. This was where you’d confront Galin, it’s why you chose a room so humid no flame could survive or thrive in its cradle. You wanted to ensure if Galin thought to retaliate, he’d have no ability to do so. Wonwoo rested a hand on the pommel of the blade at his hip and titled his chin in understanding.

“You flatter me, Your Highness,” Galin hummed.

You continued to chatter about all matters; Galin’s other committees, his wife’s health, the plum orchard on his property in the East. The man talked about himself too eagerly; bumbling through long anecdotes that made Wonwoo’s eyes glaze but you kept a warm smile on your face the entire time. 

A knock interrupted and Sami entered with a new plate of desserts and a wink at Wonwoo. 

“Your Highness, Your Grace,” she bowed and placed the treats in the center of the table. Wonwoo noticed she slipped something from her pocket into your hand.

But Galin didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by the pastries placed before him. “You remembered my favorite!”

“Of course, my Lord. My cook was worried they wouldn’t come out in time but it seems she is a miracle worker.”

You did not eat and Wonwoo wondered if you had them poisoned. 

“Fickle thing, star lace. You can spend all the time and money on the best ingredients, preparing them just right, but if the cook isn’t careful to see the process through then the entire thing is for naught. And then, you have hungry people who are only able to eat their disappointment.”

Wonwoo couldn’t see Galin’s face but his body tensed. He wasn’t sure what new role he was playing in your game. Not a chaperone and certainly not a protector. A witness? An insurance policy? 

You continued, “And if those people were royals, princesses perhaps with the ability to make assassinations look like accidents, well it wouldn’t be very wise of a cook to disappoint her, would it?”

“I have no idea—“

“I’ve heard recent reports of wildfires in the northern provinces. Uncommon but not exactly rare I suppose. How unfortunate would it be for one of those fires to consume the temple Citree is studying at?”

Despite sitting, it was as if you grew an inch taller with each word. Staring down your nose at Galin, Wonwoo wondered how anyone doubted that you were born to rule.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Lord Galin,” you cooed. “I’m only speaking in hypotheticals. However, I suppose that if someone decided to steal twenty thousand gold marks from the crown and leave a trail of evidence, then I’d be left with few options. Strip him of his title, take everything he values…really the possibilities are only as limited as my imagination.”

“What do you want?”

“Forty thousand gold marks and the names of any other nobles who have been cheating the crown.“

“Fort—forty thousand?” he sputtered. “I haven’t got forty thousand gold marks.”

“How unfortunate. You know what I’ve got? A condemned building in the Lower Block and months of documents pretending it’s not. So find forty thousand gold marks by tomorrow evening or you will find yourself mourning your grandsons by the next day.”

So this was diplomacy. Wonwoo’s skin prickled at the realization. It was as if he was witnessing a tsunami preparing to crash into land, taking everything and leaving nothing behind in its wake. Unforgiving. Ruthless. Brutal. Wonwoo softened towards Lord Galin but swiftly remembered the only reason the noble became the target of your rage were his own deeds. Galin was a thief and a liar. This was justice.

“You haven’t told Her Majesty about my deeds, have you?”

“No. I am offering you my mercy but if you prefer to beg for hers then so be it.”

“Fine, but I have no names. I don’t know the other ministers’ deeds.”

Wonwoo doubted that. Where one went, the rest followed. How many other projects were nothing more than shams to line their own pockets?

“Forty thousand gold marks returned to my coffers and a list of names with proof of crimes. Or is there a price too high for your family’s safety?”

Galin tensed, hands flexing at his sides. You warned him Galin was a firebender and Wonwoo recognized the signs of his element. He stepped forward to intervene but found your eyes over the old man's shoulders, a single look and he knew you didn’t need his help. The temperature in the room dropped until his breath puffed in a foggy cloud. Wonwoo didn’t need to see the tea cups to know they were frozen too; the glass walls and ceilings frosted despite the harsh sun beating down outside. The fountains silenced, and the plants twisted like snakes poised to strike. Wonwoo had been terrified of you before, but now he found himself too impressed to think beyond the fact you could send an ice blade through Galin’s throat before either of them realized what happened.

“You will sign these confessions,” you said, passing over the papers Sami slipped you earlier. “In the case you do what is required, then no one will ever discover them. But if you don’t…then I’m sorry for your loss.”

The plants relaxed and the fountains began bubbling enthusiastically once more. Frost receded, and you sat primly, plucking a fig from the tray of fruits as if you were discussing the weather. You wore as many masks as Wonwoo had teeth and the ever shuffling nature unnerved him.

Lord Galin glowered, “I was unaware royalty resorted to blackmail these days.”

“I won’t fault you for it, you don’t seem to be aware of much these days but I’m honored to bring you up to speed.”

After signing the confessions and sealing them, you dismissed Galin, face smooth, the wave threatening to destroy everything in its path receding beneath the surface without a ripple. As if it never existed to begin with.

Galin rose to his feet, wrinkled face red as rose petals, ink staining his fingers. His mouth opened to say more but shut when you raised a brow in question. Wonwoo became a new victim to his indignation.

“Filth!” Galin spat, chest puffed. “Get out of my way!”

You didn’t rise from your seat, or shout, or freeze the air again. Your voice was unnervingly calm, gaze as cold as ice. “Lord Galin.”

“Yes, Your Highness?” he bit without turning back.

To Wonwoo’s horror, your fingers bent at a rigid angle and Galin jerked to face you like a grotesque puppet.

Bloodbending.

It didn’t matter if Galin could bend or even if he had a knife hidden in his pocket. A flick of your wrist turned him into a living marionette, doomed to do whatever crossed your mind.

Wonwoo’s stomach sank. 

One hand held steady and you poured yourself a cup of tea with the other, spoon scraping the bottom of the porcelain cup when you added sugar. “I’ve heard the strangest tales of people drowning on dry land in the Umber Islands. It might do well to warn your daughters of such a phenomenon. They’ll be celebrating the festival there this year, won't they? I’d hate for anything unfortunate to happen to them.”

Galin’s eyes widened with horror and Wonwoo knew his face must have looked the same but you remained unaffected; sipping from your cup. 

“Thank you for sharing, Your Highness.”

“You may go,” you said, hand dropping to snag one of the pastries and pop it in your mouth with a pleased hum.

Galin scurried from the chamber and Wonwoo nearly followed. 

Wonwoo realized, among a great many things, that your threat to Galin is on his behalf; you’d go to the same lengths to get your money back as you would to settle an insult against him. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it’s a drop in the bucket of your ire at the noble, at everyone, at circumstance. Maybe you’d been looking for an excuse to put Galin in his place, flex your power over him completely. 

Wonwoo didn’t need anger on his behalf.

But he also realized he’d like if you were.

In the garden, the scent of honey suckles and damp earth perfumed the air. The clipped bushes and hedges stood proud, like rows of miniature soldiers as they carved a maze towards the ornamental pond bustling with turtleducks. You sat in silence with Wonwoo, pretending to read a novel by a new poet while he actually read his own. It felt odd to have him stand at attention while you relaxed, same as when Han or Sami or Mingyu hung around waiting for some task to do when all you craved was company; more friend than servant but Wonwoo felt more something than friend.

You weren’t sure what he’d think of the ruthlessness you wielded in the Solarium, and a part of you wilted at the idea that you cared so much for his opinion. It’s what had to be done. 

It didn’t stop the sick satisfaction knowing Galin wet himself when you yanked him around by his veins.

Han and Mingyu ensured Galin’s footman witnessed them delivering the fake confession envelopes to the archives while Sami hid the real ones throughout the palace. When Galin visited the archives that night hoping to destroy evidence against, he’d realize the fool he thought you to be was a grave miscalculation. And when he sent a messenger to ensure his grandsons’ safety, you had a spy set to follow; same with his daughters. He’d play right into your web just as you had his but this time you’d win; it was up to Galin to define what that meant.

Wonwoo had not spoken to you since leaving the Solarium and you wondered if it had been worth it. You felt like a child playing pretend; the first trial of being queen, what it would take to keep the nobles in line. You could have turned over his confession to your grandmother and been done with the entire ordeal but you wanted to beat Galin on your own; needed to outmaneuver him without her help.

Only time would tell if you had.

Now, you sat in the gardens and tried to carry on as normal as if you didn’t owe this success to your guard. You trusted him. Not just to protect you if someone should attack, Wonwoo would do that for anyone. You were sure of it. Even with Sami and Han’s constant teasing he would protect them if needed. But it was beyond expecting him to do his duty. He gave you proof, put himself at risk of getting into trouble if you were caught together. He helped you in a way no one else ever could.

You’d have to find a way to thank him later, when the rush of the day wore off and you didn’t replay the hundreds of things you could have done differently.

You knew he wouldn’t appreciate the money from Lord Galin, he’d insist it went back to the people. He liked to read, you knew that much. Maybe a book? But that didn’t feel grand enough to convey the level of your gratitude. Recommend him to Aiko for a promotion? You’d have to ask him.

There were other things you could do for him. Indulge in the urges that plagued you since you spotted him the first night at the warehouses; let him touch and taste and tease as much as he wanted; finish what started against that wall in the market and rekindled last night. It’d be an entirely inappropriate reward but you wanted him and it was a convenient excuse to let him have you.

Wonwoo interrupted your spiral. “You’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

For a moment you thought he meant the fantasies flashing in your head. Yes. Without question. Wanna run to the gardener's shed right now? But when you looked away from your book and towards his face, something unfamiliar clouded his face. Something like awe and fear and disbelief morphed into one.

He meant Galin.

“Yes.”

“Is it that easy?”

You shut your book with a snap; no point in saving the page, you’d have to start from the beginning anyway. “It's not easy.”

Galin’s daughters had been your playmates as a child, before they married and went with their husbands. You attended Citree’s and his brothers’ first birthdays, sent gifts for the Winter Fete every year. It was not easy but Galin made it necessary. Wonwoo didn’t understand. He never would.

Rising with the intent of excusing yourself to somewhere he couldn’t follow, you found one of your guests approaching.

“Your Highness,” Senator Maoki bowed. “I apologize for interrupting you but I was hoping I may accompany you on a walk through the gardens? I’m told you know them best and I’d be honored with a tour.” 

I would rather hang upside down completely naked and recite my family lineage back fifteen generations. 

Senator Maoki was several inches shorter than you with a boyish face, baby fat firmly in place despite his age. He didn’t look old enough to drink let alone wed, and he wouldn’t; not to you at least. But Maoki could serve a purpose now.

You smoothed a hand down your skirt. “That would be lovely.”

He trailed behind as you swept towards the arch leading back to the palace; a short tour through the more impressive parts of the garden, then you could hide away in your room until night came.

“I’ve been trying to introduce myself but your schedule is so packed, Your Highness,” Maoki huffed.

“Lots to do when running a country.”

“It’ll be grand when you're married,” Maoki said. “then you won't have to worry about such things.”

You stopped abruptly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean to say,” Maoki stammered, “you’ll be busy raising your children so your husband would naturally step in as king.”

“The man I marry would be Prince Consort, not King.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Maoki must have sensed your discontent and scrambled to change the subject. He looked over his shoulder and turned back to say, “Does he follow you everywhere?”

You continued down the pebbled pathway, flowers exploding in the greenery like vibrant fireworks, Maoki and Wonwoo on your heels. “He’s my guard, it’s his duty to protect me.”

“I could protect you, Your Highness.”

You couldn’t protect a block of ice in the South Pole.

Maoki puffed up his chest but looked more like an baby otter penguin than something intimidating. There was a noise behind you that sounded suspiciously like a snort. At least Wonwoo found him entertaining.

“I’m sure you’re very capable,” you dipped your chin to the orange blossoms, their sweet scent offsetting the sour taste of that lie. 

“I’ve never understood women’s affinity for flowers. They’re just silly flowers.”

You drew back to full height, your chin an inch or so higher than the top of Maoki’s hair. “These flowers will become fruit that will feed everyone at the palace. That hardly seems silly to me.”

His eyes rolled. “I guess but not all flowers turn into something useful.”

“So you only see value in things that may be of use to you.”

“No! I mean, yes, but I wouldn’t—”

“Some things’ only use is the comfort they bring by having them near.” Like Wonwoo. The realization jumped at you like a bolt of lightning in broad daylight; you shove it away before thinking too much of it. “Did you not have a favorite toy or blanket as a child?”

“I had a rock.” Maoki declared proudly.

“A…rock?” 

“My favorite rock, come I’ll show you.”

Maoki trudged past, leaving you and Wonwoo alone for a moment. When you look up at him he’s smiling; an amused twist on his lip like he too can’t believe Maoki cuddled with a rock as a child. 

That comfort you described crept up, the warmth in your chest, the knots in your muscles loosening. All by just standing there with him as the birds chirped and the breeze rustled the leaves and swirled the scent of fresh rain and the blooms. You knew the want he brought with him; the urge to touch and be touched, to be pressed into the wall and drag him against you. But this was different. A new urge to stand in silence, knowing Wonwoo stood only a few inches away, and enjoy the gardens in soft silence; share looks you both understood without speaking; laugh at nothing and everything and look to see if he was laughing too. 

“Your Highness?” Maoki called.

“Coming.”

Next to the fountain, Maoki held a stone the size of a fist. “A good rock is a lot like a woman. Some may be unassuming from the outside, but, if you take the time to look at what's within, it can dazzle. Look.” He cracked the stone open and the inside glittered in the afternoon light like a thousand stars captured together.

“That’s beautiful.” If you didn’t have hundreds of things that sparkled then you might have been more sincere in your compliments. You might have bitten your tongue. “Does your rock do anything?”

Maoki frowned. “No, Your Highness. It’s meant to be admired for simply existing, a thing of great beauty and great value that lasts far longer than flowers.”

“But it doesn’t smell as nice as flowers,” you sniffed.

“No, I think flowers might have the advantage there,” he joked back. “Shall we walk some more?”

Walking the gardens is nice even if you’ve traced the same paths so many times there are permanent footsteps to follow. It’s the time of year the grass is as soft as feathers and you wish to toss away your shoes and to feel it beneath your feet; you would if Maoki wasn’t there and it was just Wonwoo.

Another fountain came into view; water trickling down the many tiers in thick sheets to the basin where turtleducks paddled across the surface and fish swam just beneath. Maoki led you around the edge and the turtleducks and fish followed close, expecting the treats you frequently spoiled them with. You focused on ignoring whatever Maoki rambles about, thinking through meetings and to do lists. 

That’s when something crashed into the water behind you.

“Wha—” you gasped. 

Wonwoo sat in the fountain, soaked from head to toe, the fabric of his uniform dark and clinging like a second skin. His eyes blazed, trained on Maoki. “I tripped.”

“You should go change, Captain Jeon. Wouldn’t want you dripping all over the gardens.” Maoki straightened, back rigid as if he was sizing up Wonwoo. A ridiculous sight; like a puppy sizing up a wolf.

The birds no longer sang, and the wind held its breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked, extending a hand.

Wonwoo ignored it, rising to his feet. “I’m fine, Your Highness.” 

The correction is on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back. The last person needing to witness your familiarity with him was Maoki, the horrible gossip. You wanted to laugh; you would have if Wonwoo didn’t look so vicious and Maoki’s face didn’t burn red with fear. 

You tried not to stare as he tugged off his soaked coat, revealing the fabric of his undershirt nearly translucent from the water. Tried as did, you failed spectacularly. What was a woman to do when a man as handsome and defined as Wonwoo stood in front of her practically naked from the waist up? It wasn’t fair to expect anything other than gawking and imaginations.

You could have bent the water from his uniform and left him perfectly dry, continuing your walk with the senator as if nothing happened. You could have turned around and left Wonwoo standing there to dry his uniform with his own body heat. Of the many things you could have done, you decided to leave Maoki to his rocks and give yourself privacy before you scandalized the rose bushes.

“I think I’ll retire with Captain Jeon, I must prepare for tonight's festivities anyway,” you said. 

“But, Your Highness!”

You turned on your heel, a soaking wet bodyguard following behind. What you didn’t see was Maoki and Wonwoo sneering at one another but you guessed as much. You hid your satisfied smile in your sleeve.

Wonwoo soaked in the tub for what felt like hours but knew the sun barely began to set when he returned to his room. You had been whisked into your room by Han and Sami for last minute alterations with the Royal Seamstress and he was clearly not invited by the door slamming in his face. Fair enough, he didn’t need to see you naked. Not after what happened in the bath.

He didn’t have many possessions in his room: a few books, his clothes, a framed picture of his family. It’s why he noticed someone left something on the unused desk in the corner so quickly.

A pristine copy of The Pearls of Drak sat on his desk; not the one ruined by the fountain or more specifically Maiko. The pages were aged and the cover softened, but far nicer than the one Wonwoo owned. 

He brought his books from the barracks with the assumption he’d have a little free time, not realizing he’d need to ration their entertainment. Wonwoo had nothing but time these days. Mornings started late, and you seemed to prefer ending the evening early – at least publicly. He couldn’t sleep well knowing you were just down the hall, or the nights he heard you pacing in the sitting room.

There was another book beneath it. Poems of Stars. The title had faded to the point it was nearly illegible, the leather cover worn to the point it thinned around the edge. Many of the pages were nicked or ripped at the corners, and as he flipped through he found stains from tea cups and smudged ink, the spine creased and broken that it laid flat on almost any page.

He never read it before but someone clearly loved it, poured over the text over and over again. As excited as he was about the books, his heart squeezed at the orange blossom, petals dried and browned, pressed between the pages. 

Some things’ only use is the comfort they bring by having them near…

He knew they were both from you. Were these gifts or loans? Wonwoo needed to ask. The poems were well loved and he doubted you part with it but the fact you left it to him at all, even only temporarily, made him flush.

One second you were asking him to heat the bath you sat in, the next threatening nobles on his behalf, and now you gifted him something you held dearly. Wonwoo couldn’t begin to think what any of it meant.

The idea of you in his room made him nervous, seeing the few things that belonged to him in the space that certainly wasn’t his own. What did you think of it? Of him? How little he had in comparison to you? 

Maybe if he had the money to study he’d be at a university and not in the palace; and if he was at university then he’d never be guard, and if he had that kind of money he’d never have stumbled into the warehouse that one night to fight and lose. He’d never have gone back to fight and win. Never would have fought and lost against you, never would have found you again in that field. 

There was no point in obsessing over what ifs or hypotheticals. But if Wonwoo had, then he supposed if none of this happened, he’d never have a book with a silly flower with no use at all other than the comfort that it came from you.

He dressed and left his room, entering the hive of the main apartment buzzing much like the morning. You were tucked away in your room, out of sight but not for long.

You came out in pink silks, so pale they looked white, and the jewels absent from this morning were back in place, woven intricately through your hair.

Wonwoo found comfort in the fact he wasn’t required to speak, he had no idea what would have come out of his mouth if he did. You didn’t seem in the mood to talk either. After this morning he couldn't blame you.

Rows of chairs filled the Grand Room, a makeshift stage at the front for each man to present his talent. Most of the seats were already full but two upfront were left empty for you and the Queen. 

Servants wove through the clusters of nobles and dignitaries with trays of lemonade and wine, others with plates of cookies. 

Wonwoo stationed himself against the wall at the side of the room, a clear view of you and the performances from the shadows. He didn’t want to miss the bumbling fools embarrassing themselves; it was too good an opportunity to pass up. 

It started innocently enough. Lord Char played a ballad on tsungi horn; Admiral Gyan recited a long winded ode from Poems of Laghima and ended up making up the latter half after he clearly forgot the words; Commander Raza’s dramyin performance was loud and off beat, impressive given he performed solo. Maoki turned a rock into a turtleduck figurine which was almost realistic if the turtleduck’s body had been flattened but its head enlarged.

You accepted it with a tight smile and a small dip of your chin. Someone else would have thought it modest but Wonwoo caught the shake in your shoulders, and the clench of your jaw.

More followed with less than impressive routines: hoop rolling, card tricks, and slight of hand that wouldn’t impress a toddler. Polite claps filled the hall after each stint. 

The entire time Wonwoo cut glances at your face, waiting for flashes of amusement or confusion to match his own. Admiral Gyan danced on clunky feet without music and you hid a smile in a glass of wine, a private smile you look at Wonwoo to share and he’s happy for the shadows because he’s gnawing on his lip to keep from reciprocating. Prince Jao sang, loudly and off key, the look that passed between you and Wonwoo nearly ended with you both in tears of laughter.

Then, Prince Bavruq’s turn came around.

Sami would be disappointed to miss the man shirtless, chest obviously oiled. You peaked back at Wonwoo with an arched brow as if to say ‘Seriously?’

Bavruq flexed and stretched through different tumbles, commanding the water from two large barrels rolled in for his performance. Wonwoo watched with admiration. Obviously the man was a skilled bender but he couldn’t help thinking you were better. Bavruq dropped into a low stance, two arches of water spiraling overhead, and your head tilted in interest. In the light of the candle chandeliers, the water glittered much like the stone Maoki presented in the garden. 

Your eyelids dropped, head tilted in thought. If he didn’t know better then it’d appear you were enamored with Bavruq but Wonwoo saw the challenge. You were sizing Bavruq up, like a predator assessed potential prey. If it came to it, Wonwoo bet on you.

Bavruq froze the water in a spectacular arch, bowing for applause. You clapped politely and Bavruq left the stage. The dread of Sami’s comments later tonight started to root in Wonwoo’s stomach.

“Wonderful!” the Queen turned towards you, her next exclamation echoing through the hall. “You are all so impressive, I don’t know how you will choose a husband.”

Your eyes widened as you floundered. Wonwoo couldn’t believe it himself but he knew this was the plan from the start; however, the Queen clearly desired to speed the entire thing along. All the men that just performed swooped to surround you like moths to a flame, you sneered something to your grandmother before looking at Wonwoo with pleading eyes.

It wasn’t his place to intervene, even if you wanted him to, even if he wanted to. Standing on the sidelines, Wonwoo watched you navigate the viper pit as your grandmother smiled boldly.

Another hour passed before the swarm dissipated. Your smile remained fixed the entire time but Wonwoo noticed the strain in your cheeks, the dull glaze cast over your eyes, the clench of your jaw. When you were finally able to get away, he followed you back to your suite ten paces behind like he always did.

Back in your apartment, you dismissed Wonwoo and others with a wave of your hand, locking yourself in your room without a word. 

In his own room, try as he might, sleep evaded him. Every time he came close Maoki’s sniveling face flashed in his mind, or the panicked look on your face in the crowd of hungry suitors. Or the way you looked at him in the garden, like there was a joke just for you two. 

He couldn’t sleep and he refused to call the kitchens for tea to help so Wonwoo decided to read. He read The Pearls of Drak enough to recite the entire thing in his sleep so he grabbed the new book and flipped through the pages until his eyes caught on “The Belle Dame.”

I met a lady in the meads,  Full beautiful—a spirit’s child,  Her hair was long, her foot was light,  And her eyes were wild. 

Well that certainly sounded familary.

Wonwoo scoured page after page of the poem. How the man yearned for a woman he couldn’t have, enchanted by her to the point of despair. Wonwoo’s chest ached as he read on, hoping for some happy ending. And then the poem ended; no happiness, no peace. The man woke up on the hillside – alone – wandering in ruins forever looking for the woman he loved who will never be found. 

Wonwoo read over and over again, obsessed in his own way, trying to work out a new angle, some way to spin the story into one he’d be satisfied with. But finding that ending proved as easy as finding sleep. After the tenth time, Wonwoo snapped the book closed and shoved it beneath his bed.

He didn’t sleep very well. Every time he verged just on the seam of sleep, a pair of wild eyes stared back at him.

taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

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[sister-lucifer]

Do you want to read up on Trump’s policies? And do you want a way to educate your loved ones and community on the dangers of Trump’s second term? Here’s a little something I’m working on:

This is my forever expanding master document outlining all the issues with Trump’s policies and how they will affect everyone. Yes, everyone.

The purpose of this document is to be shared and circulated.

The purpose of this document is to reach as many people as possible.

Share it however you can. Share the link with family and friends, post the link on social media, print it out and make it into a leaflet. Speaking of printing, here’s a printable QR code for you to print and post around your town or community:

Don’t have a printer or a family member who has one you can use?

You can find one to use for free or very cheap at your local public library, or printer/copier store.

SHARE. THIS. DOCUMENT.

DO NOT JUST LIKE THIS POST. REBLOG, REPOST AND SHARE IT.

Thank you.

[archiveikemen]

"Come Play With Us, Miss Fairytale Keeper" Story Event: Chapter 2

Alfons Sylvatica VS Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Alfons: Kate, say “ahh”.

Kate: Mm… this grape is delicious!

Ring: … What’s this you’ve been doing since just now? 

Alfons: It’s necessary to blend in if we want to gather information on our target.

Alfons: For that, I’m playing the role of a lovesick man trying to seduce Kate. 

Ring: Aren’t you just feeding her grapes?

Alfons: My, my… you won’t be saying that for long. 

Alfons: My fingers are dirty now… you’ll clean them for me, right, Kate? 

Kate: eh… 

The instant I parted my lips and let out a small confused sound, Alfons pushed his fingers into my mouth.

He moved his fingers in and out, tracing my tongue and rubbing the roof of my mouth. 

Kate: Nn…a… mmph…!

Alfons: Yes, yes, just like that… you’re so cute, sucking and licking so eagerly. 

Alfons: … Makes me want to put something other than my fingers into that little mouth of yours and make you moan. 

Kate: Nn~~!

Alfons: Even if you resist, right now you’ll only sound like you’re making erotic noises. Fufu… 

Alfons: You see, you’ll look suspicious if you resist too much. 

Alfons: Ah, ah, you’re making such a pleased face… really, you can’t do this without me. 

Being forced to lick his fingers and having my mouth messed with made it slightly hard to breathe.

And yet… I was frustrated at myself for feeling a little bit of pleasure from it. 

Alfons: Thank you for showing me that lewd expression. 

Alfons let out a delighted laugh before pulling his fingers out of my mouth.

Kate: Please don’t do such weird things all of a sudden!

Alfons: I couldn't help it. I’m just a pitiful man approaching you desperately for your love. 

Alfons: Besides, you enjoyed it, didn’t you? 

Kate: T-that’s… 

Seeing that I couldn't deny it, Alfons smiled with satisfaction.

Alfons: Next is Ring’s turn.

Ring: … I know.

Ring nodded with a solemn look on his face and looked at me—  

Kate: Mmph…! 

Suddenly, he started vigorously wiping my mouth with his sleeve. 

(Come to think of it, my mouth was all sticky from the grape juice and saliva…) 

Feeling sorry about it, I let him continue; but I then realised how close we were.

Ring: Mm… a little more…

Whenever our eyes met, he would usually awkwardly avert his gaze or glare warily at me.

But right now, his cobalt blue eyes stared straight into mine, the intensity of his gaze taking my breath away.

(If he were to look at someone so earnestly and come this close…)

(I bet many people would fall for him.) 

Ring: That should do it. 

Kate: T-thank you. … Sorry for being so dirty.

Ring; No, you’re not dirty. Not at all.

Ring: Actually… I’m the one who should apologise, for touching you without permission. 

Ring: It’s just, your face after Alfons seduced you… it was too um— 

Kate: …?? 

Alfons: It was too lewd and so you’re worried that other men would see it, isn’t that right? 

Ring: … A-anyway! All that matters is that you can be at ease now. 

(He wiped my mouth to protect me… I’m glad.) 

Alfons: That was a nice move. I’d say Ring will get one point for it. 

Ring: Huh…? … I haven't seduced her, though. 

Alfons: Did you do that naturally? Impressive, as expected from someone with a lot of experience. 

Ring: Ah, yeah… t-this is nothing. 

(... Alfons and Ring are two completely different types of people.) 

Insolent and innocent — time passed as I continued being caught between their different attitudes. 

Alfons: Oh? … One of our targets has arrived.

Following Alfons’ gaze, I spotted a man delightedly helping himself to some light snacks. 

(It’s the same person I saw in the documents. He’s a doctor to the public eye, but secretly involved in trafficking illegal drugs…) 

Ring: … I don’t see his partner nearby. 

Alfons: They might have agreed to only meet right before heading to their room. They’re very cautious. 

Ring: … I’ll go spy on that man.

Alfons: So you’re trying to put a gap between you and I by taking the lead? 

Ring: Of course. I can’t stand watching Kate as you make moves on her. 

Ring: I’ll put an end to this competition quickly. 

Ring left his spot and approached the man. 

Ring: There’s something I want to ask you.

Male Doctor: Hm? If I’m not mistaken… you’re from that trio. Two men competing over one woman, right? Ahh, youth. 

Ring: Yeah. You see… I’m on the verge of losing to my rival. 

Ring: I want to choose the best private room in this mansion to gain an edge over him. 

Ring: You’re a regular here, right? Could you tell me if there’s any room you particularly like to use? 

(He went straight to the point…) 

I got nervous, but the man didn't seem to suspect a thing because of Ring’s confidence.

Male Doctor: I usually let my partner choose a room, so I’m not really sure myself. 

Ring: I see… sorry for taking up your time.

Ring returned to his spot after speaking with our target. 

Ring: … It didn't work. 

Alfons: But you did manage to gain new information. Your straightforward approach was commendable. 

Ring: … What do we do next? We haven't identified his partner.

Alfons: That’s true, however… I’ve already spotted his lady companion. 

Ring: When did you…? 

Partners don’t usually stray too far from each other at parties, but since the people here have illicit relationships, many of them act separately from their partners.

(How did he identify her out of all the women here?) 

Alfons: The reason is simple. The man from a while ago was wearing a bracelet, right?

Ring: … Was he?

Alfons: That bracelet comes from a set. If you connect the two bracelets together, they'll become a necklace.

Kate: Amazing… you even noticed that.

Alfons: I know about it because the beautiful design is highly praised. All thanks to Lord Elbie. 

Alfons: And there’s someone else in this venue wearing the same bracelet.

Ring: …! That lady hiding behind the pillar.

(She really is wearing the same bracelet!) 

Alfons: Let me quickly obtain the information we need.

Alfons left his spot, approached the woman, and… gently touched the nape of her neck. 

He used his curse’s ability to alter the woman’s perception and coaxed the location of the room out of her. 

Alfons: I’m back. Apparently, their room is named “Rose” and located on the second floor. 

Kate: That was amazing, Alfons! 

Alfons: I’m honoured to receive your praise. With that, I gain one point too and become tied with Ring.

Alfons: Now, we’re approaching the final stage of our mission.

Alfons: Kate… between Ring and myself, who will you choose as your lover?

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃

pairing: aemond targaryen x daemon's daughter!oc (dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au)

summary: with the help of her soon-to-be husband, alyssa discovers a secret about her mother.

warnings: for better understanding you should read the how I met your brother oneshot. pure fluff honestly

author's note: based off this ask i received A LONG TIME AGO OMG IT HAS BEEN YEARS 😭 i hope u can still read this, nonnie... this is really short sorry but i really like it and i hope y'all enjoy.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

dad!daemon x mom!reader au masterlist

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ༓ ༓ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

In the expansive library of the Red Keep, the soft glow of candlelight danced across the rows of ancient books and scrolls. Alyssa Targaryen sat at a large wooden table, her silver hair arranged neatly as she pored over an old, leather-bound tome. Beside her, Prince Aemond Targaryen, her soon-to-be husband, flipped through a stack of documents with focused interest.

Alyssa had been intrigued by the history of House Martell for some time. Today, she was deep into a volume detailing the lineage and achievements of Dorne’s great families. Her lilac eyes scanned the pages with a growing sense of curiosity.

A couple days before that moment, her brother Maegon was telling her story their uncle and father had told him, about the day their father, Daemon, had met their mother, Lady Y/N. A fun fact about the story that her brother relates, is that old and sick Viserys, shares some hints on the dornish heritage of the Lad-, no, Princess Y/N. Daughter to Qoren Martell, the Prince of Dorne and Lord of Sunspear, something that neither Alyssa or her brothers had knowledge of.

She knew better than to question her mother about that. And when she tried to talk to her dad about it, he had dismissed her saying that she should be asking Y/N.

Now, the bookworm couple were trying to find some vestige of Y/N's heritage and family history in some of the scrolls and books at the grand library.

“Aemond,” Alyssa said suddenly, her voice breaking the quiet, “look at this.”

Prince Aemond looked up from his reading, his lavander eye curious. “What is it, Alyssa?”

"I think I've found something," Alyssa’s fingers traced a family tree she had uncovered in the book. “this here—Nymeria, the Rhoynar Princess. And look, her descendants...”

Aemond leaned closer, his interest piqued.

Alyssa’s gaze was fixed on the page, her voice trembling slightly with excitement. “I’ve been following the lineage, and as Nymeria’s bloodline continues through House Martell, look–”

Her finger moved further down the tree, connecting to her mother's name, under Qoren Martell's, the Prince of Dorne. “This is my mother’s father... Maegon wasn't lying, she truly is a dornish princess!”

Alyssa frowns, trying to understand why anyone had never mentioned that fact to her or her brothers before, or why didn't her mother went by the "princess" title anymore.

Aemond looked at her with a mixture of surprise and understanding. “It appears so. You’ve uncovered a significant piece of your heritage.”

"Why would they cover this from us? From me? She..." Alyssa chuckled, remembering her childhood, "My mother knew how much I used to admire Queen Visenya when I was younger, and how I wanted to be a warrior like her. And now... I discover I'm a descendant to Nymeria Martell. I'm connected to her legacy."

Alyssa’s expression was a mix of awe and determination.

Aemond reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, caressing her skin with his thumb. “And you are right to be proud. Nymeria was a great leader and warrior. I could say you are the best of both worlds, my sweet.”

Alyssa’s eyes sparkled with a new sense of purpose. "This knowledge... it gives me the strength to forge my own path. I want to do something great, Aemond. I want to be someone known..." she murmured, looking up to her betrothed's orbits.

As they continued to study the ancient texts, Aemond could see the resolve in Alyssa’s eyes. He knew that this newfound knowledge would empower her in ways he had not yet fully understood.

“Perhaps,” Aemond suggested thoughtfully, “we should learn more about the Martell history together. There’s much we can draw from it. Maybe one day we could visit the place so you could meet your grandsire.”

Alyssa grinned to his thoughtful proposal, but snickered humorously “And we'd fly to Dorne? Perhaps we could spend some time there after our wedding. I think they wouldn't mind seeing Vhagar again.” She joked as they both laughed.

As they continued their research, the bond between them deepened, strengthened by their shared pursuit of knowledge and the powerful heritage that now united them. In the quiet of the library, Alyssa and Aemond found not just historical connections but a profound sense of purpose and partnership, ready to face the future together.

[evilwickedme]

I said I'd never do jumblr content again and yet here I am because this keeps coming up and it's like the only thing I can think about. That said I will not hesitate to turn off reblogs if y'all are horrible in the notes again, and be warned that I will be blocking anybody who supports any of the theories I mention immediately

There is no such thing as a conspiracy theory that isn't antisemitic. There is no such animal

Antisemitic conspiracy theories go back thousands of years. The ones that still have the most hold on culture to this day are the blood libel, and the protocols of the elders of zion

The blood libel was an accusation that would be brought against Jewish populations in Europe often but especially around Passover claiming that we were killing Christian children for ritual purposes, usually to use their blood for baking matza or other nonsense (it is important to me that you know that this is nonsense. It is horrible and damaging but also to the core a ridiculous lie that never at any point made any sense. They just didn't care). Debatably this trope is present in the merchant of Venice. Undebatably Jews were killed because people did and still do sincerely believe this

The protocols of the elders of zion is a fictitious document published in Russia at the very beginning of the 20th century, supposedly detailing the meetings of the Jewish people who secretly run the world. The protocols were almost immediately proven to be a rip off of another document - ah, plagiarism - but that hasn't stopped antisemites from embracing it wholeheartedly (special thanks fuck you to Henry Ford for publishing them in his newspaper, spreading it across the USA). It built on previous antisemitic tropes, from the greedy banker trope (Jews were forced to be money lenders in medieval Europe as it was forbidden in Christianity and Jews weren't allowed to join any guilds, preventing them from making money in any other capacity - the reason why there are so many Jews in Hollywood is identical, but in the early 20th century) to the concept of dual loyalty (i.e. Jewish are loyal to ourselves above all else and cannot be trusted to be loyal to the country where we live, see: modern trope that every Jew is probably loyal to Israel and the subsequent idea that it's okay to ask every single diaspora Jew how they feel about Israel immediately upon meeting them). It's also worth noting that the word cabal, used to denote the shadowy organizations that supposedly control the world, comes from kabbala, which is Jewish mysticism

The idea of lizard people, created by a guy literally named Icke because he is a gross human being, was designed to repackage the antisemitic shadow cabal concept to be supposedly more palatable

Most qanon theories also build on all of this, such as world leaders preying on children (remember pizzagate?)

But more importantly conspiratorial thinking always positions you as the good guy standing against a mysterious "them", an other which is influencing things behind the scenes. The Jew is the ultimate other, and specifically an other that supposedly forms a shadowy world government, controlling everything and yet somehow not managing to get rid of antisemitism (see: protocols of Zion, lizard people, we control Hollywood and the government which is of course conspiring against you). There is no way to decouple the idea of an evil shadowy organization (usually also referred to as a cabal to really hammer it in) from antisemitism and antisemitic tropes

And this means that even supposedly "harmless" conspiracy theories attract antisemites and train people who aren't necessarily rabid antisemites to confirm those kinds of biases. Obviously Qanon and lizard people are antisemitic, but what does the moon landing have to do with Jews? Well, it was Hollywood and the government that faked it, obviously. Hell, even the conspiracy that Taylor Swift is secretly a lesbian and is either still secretly dating or is exes with Karlie Kloss is riddled with antisemitism -

Okay so I need to explain my position on this because I fucking hate this conspiracy theory, and the fact that most people simply won't acknowledge that that's what it is. Firstly, Taylor Swift has stated that she is not gay or considers herself an ally at least three times off the top of my head, and specifically denied that she was dating Karlie Kloss. Secondly, outing people is wrong. Thirdly, the conspiracy theory hinges on the idea that she would be risking her career by coming out, except that she's proven that basically no controversy can come in the way of her career, she's already "come out" as an ally, donated to glaad and the equality act, promoted queer musicians & artists & designers (there was a song in the reputation tour that was dedicated to a gay designer every single night of the tour). So what's stopping her from coming out at this point? Mysterious forces, clearly. The antisemitism in that I've already explained, but also the virulent antisemitism among Kaylor shippers aimed at her husband and at the fact that she converted to Judaism is fucking disgusting

Again: even a supposedly harmless conspiracy theory leads to antisemitism and attracts antisemites

A few years ago I tried to rewatch white collar cause I remembered really enjoying that show as a preteen and after around a season I just couldn't stand it anymore, because all I wanted to do was jump into the universe and yell at Mozzie to shut the fuck up because these conspiracy theories were barely presented as a joke and never challenged even once by any of the characters. When I rewatched that 70s show it also fucking sucked, but at least it wasn't showing up in every single episode. The blacklist focuses entirely on a literal Cabal, that's what they're called

This stuff is so normalized and it's fucking everywhere and it's exhausting. Jews are to this day being murdered over this. I can't change the world by myself, unfortunately, but if you don't have a specific person to blame for your troubles, shut the fuck up. Just shut up. There is no conspiracy against you. Sometimes life just sucks. Or definitely does for the Jews who get shot at over this shit

Again, I'll be blocking anybody who parrots this bullshit in the comments but especially fucking gaylors y'all are one of the main reasons that being a fan of Taylor Swift's music is fucking unbearable. Just accept you can connect to music made by somebody different than yourself it's not that difficult of a concept

[neuroticbookworm]

Engagement of QL Fandom in Indian Queer Media

I was tagged by @lurkingshan and invited to respond to an ask she received from @impala124 that noted the absence of India in the Asian queer media spaces and discussions, and questioned the reasons behind it. @starryalpacasstuff has also responded to it in a great post (check out the reblog additions for a treasure trove of Indian queer media recs), discussing, among many things, Korea’s culture export aiding their queer media ventures, access to Indian queer media, and the quality of Indian queer media. @twig-tea’s addition discussed the ease of access of Thai BLs via YouTube and how it prompted Korea and Japan to re-enter the genre.

My thoughts on Indian queer media are complicated and involve several detours to understand Indian media culture, its economic power, and how it navigates international viewership. For context, I am an Indian cinephile who grew up watching a wide variety of Indian media in terms of both language and genre. I naturally transitioned into watching Western content as globalization of the 2010s brought HBO and Comedy Central to Indian screens, and later sought out queer media, Asian media and Asian queer media on the internet.

Indian Media Industry - A Primer

I know there are a lot of countries right now that produce QL media, so I am gonna mainly consider Thailand, Japan, and Korea, the three countries most prolific with ql, for the purpose of this discussion. All of these countries, while regionally diverse, have managed to considerably homogenize in language and culture over the course of history and colonization. India, on the other hand, is still significantly and distinctly diverse in language, culture, religion, food, media styles, social norms, and on and on. India has 22 official languages and thousands of regional ones that are used in various capacities everyday. This diversity is then reflected in the media produced by India, with multiple powerhouse film industries dominating box offices simultaneously. Bollywood is the biggest one and obviously well known internationally, but Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam, Kannada, Punjabi, Bengali-language film industries are successful in their own right and consistently produce box office hits and self-sustain in the larger Indian media landscape. This makes domestic media highly regional in India. Even today, in the age of social media, it takes a box office success to the tune of hundreds of millions of rupees for a film to break out of its domestic audience and cross over into other Indian states.

This diversity has also led to the different industries developing media styles unique to them. I watched this video a while ago of a creator documenting his experience of dipping toes into Indian Cinema for the first time, and he ends up covering three movies from three different industries, because the pathos of each of them is so fundamentally different yet effective in their own ways. This diversity also applies to the television industry, both traditional cable TV soaps, and the modern shows made for streaming sites. And all of this, *waves hands*, presents a set of challenges like no other country faces for both Indian queer creators and Indian queer media audiences.

The Challenges for Creators

Since the Indian media industry is not a big monolith and is made up of multiple film industries, queer creators who are trying to get their foot in the door will face a unique uphill battle in whichever regional industry they’re trying to break into. And trying to research, learn, and understand each and every single one of them will take me and my non-existent research team years, so the simpler thing to do would be listing the factors that have worked for other countries to foster their media industries to produce QL content, and discuss if India could replicate them. The list goes like this:

Japan’s rich history in yaoi

Thailand’s use of BL as a soft power to promote tourism

Korea’s culture export via kpop and other media

While India does have religious mythology that discusses sex, gender and queerness, it is often subtext with a lot of intersectionality. Does Ardhanarishvara represent fluid gender, or a symbol of harmony, or both? The debates are endless. Japan’s yaoi roots are as deep as they are explicit. And this rich history could be why the Japanese domestic audience is open to queer media even when the country is still conservative.

Thailand’s rise as a major player in the QL industry is remarkable, but there is a case to be made that the country’s media industry was directly and indirectly boosted by the government’s interest in establishing revenue from tourism, and exporting culture to international audiences via food and media. While the revenue from tourism in India is substantial, the Indian economy is not built on it. And the Indian media industry is thriving and regularly makes bank with their already established content models, so the producers have a pretty low incentive to deviate and fund queer media.

I bet every coin I own that not a single one of us on this hellsite have successfully eluded the allure of Korean media in our lives. The Korean media industry is a well-calibrated machine that shall and will target every single human into funneling their time, attention and money into the Korean culture and economy. And I think queer creators looking to make queer content in Korea would’ve had good incubation in an industry that was looking to make as much content as possible. And once again, while Indian movies have significant international box office collections, that is not where the Indian media industry, and just India in general, makes its money. The priorities are just not the same. And to be perfectly honest, India is nowhere near the level of Korea at producing and exporting television shows to international audiences.

All of this is a long winded way of saying that the conditions required to foster a QL industry in India are not the same as what we have seen work so far from the other major players. And sadly no one has really figured out the winning formula yet.

These are just a few reasons, and I haven’t even discussed nepotism and how painful class mobility is in India, making it even harder for new queer creators to break into the industry. There’s a reason why movies with queer representation like Badhaai Do, Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan, Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga, and Kapoor & Sons all feature characters in the upper middle class or above. Hell, they’re even played by actors whose portfolio is already filled with daring and experimental roles, or by first- or second-gen nepo babies who would literally have nothing to lose from the potential backlash for playing a queer character. Poor, queer characters in Indian media have never been a part of a fluffy romance as far as I know. They are reserved for the gritty dramas where intersectionality of queerness, poverty, class and caste could be examined.

The Challenges for the Audience

And once again, all of this, *aggressively waves hands*, makes things harder for even the domestic audience to engage with Indian queer media, let alone international audiences. Kathaal - The Core, a 2023 Malayalam movie about a queer man in his fifties coming out of the closet and contesting in his village body elections, was a box office success in Kerala, and I can tell y’all with complete certainty that not many people outside of Kerala would’ve even heard of it. And this was not some small indie venture – in fact, the lead characters were played by Mammootty and Jyothika, who are both absolute legends in their own right in the South Indian film industry.

Super Deluxe was a 2019 Tamil-language black comedy film that tells four interwoven stories that run in parallel, and one of the stories is about a trans woman who, pre-transition, was married and had a son. She returns to her family as her post-transition self after years of disappearance, and the film engages in conversation around sex and gender, through the innocent questions of her young son. The movie is gorgeously made, and outrageously sharp and witty in its commentary on society’s views on sex, morality, religion and family. And once again, I don’t think it is well-known outside of the domestic and international award-circuit audiences it was promoted to (last I checked, it was available to domestic audiences on Netflix).

Sometimes, even the domestic audience might miss the queer representation in their regional media when it is indie enough to not get aggressively promoted. The Hindi-language anthology movie from Netflix, Ajeeb Daastaans (2021), featured a story where two women from different caste and social class meet at the workplace (the sapphic story, Geeli Pucchi, starts at 1:17:05, if anyone wants to check it out). It served biting commentary on the intersectionality of queerness, misogyny, caste and class. And once again, I’ve never found a person with whom I could discuss it with (other than my mom, with whom I watched it).

And sometimes, even when a massive show with queer representation is well promoted and well received by critics, it still manages to fly under the radar in Indian queer fandom spaces. Amazon Prime India spent a lot of coin on the show Made in Heaven (2019) – and it was worth it. The show follows the lives of two wedding planners, Tara and Karan. Karan is closeted (except to his close friends) for most of the show, but after he makes some powerful enemies in his line of work, he gets publicly outed, which puts him on the path of dealing with his family’s shades of acceptance, queer rights activism, and reconciling with an old friend. The car scene in episode 9 made me cry, and yet I’ve never read a word about this show from Indian QL fan blogs here on Tumblr.

Following every film and TV show that releases in one language, across all modes and platforms, and keeping an eye out for queer representation is hard enough. Doing it in multiple languages is downright impossible. And then personal preferences come into play. Personally, I enjoy nearly all genres of media, but I am primarily an angst monster, so I seek out and watch sad shit on the regular. All four examples I’ve listed in this section are good queer representations, but they are deeply sad, rage-inducing, heartbreaking and realistic. If one wanted to watch an Indian queer romance that’s inside the bubble, I’m not sure if they can even find one – I have certainly not come across any. Even the queer Bollywood movies designed for a box office run, paying homage to iconic Bollywood romance sequences, were still outside the bubble. When a niche audience like the QL fandom collides with a complex media-churning machine like the Indian media industry that is fundamentally not designed to cater to them, all we get is a lot of puzzled looks and question marks.

A Thought Experiment On The Future Of Indian QLs

Now that I have established the challenges, I want to engage in a little thought experiment – if we were to receive a steady stream of Indian QL content, what would it look like, and how can the fandom engage with it?

If we are looking for content from a stable production entity for Indian queer media, like Thailand’s GMMTV, Japan’s MBS Drama Shower, and Korea’s Strongberry, we would be waiting for a long time, at the very least a decade or two. What we could get are small indie queer shows like Romil and Jugal, squirreled away in a streaming platform exclusive to India and only accessible internationally via VPN. Another example is the list of sapphic shows @twig-tea shared with us a while ago, here. These are gonna be low budget, probably-not-great-quality shows reminiscent of early GMMTV.

Another variety of QL content we could get are the Bollywood queer romance films and TV shows. They will be cheesy and tropey and romantic, and might interact with the bubble, but probably mostly from the safety of an upper middle class setting. This means they would eventually run out of fresh perspectives they could tune into in their limited scope and the stories might turn stale and repetitive (I’m deriving this from the general state of things in the Indian media landscape over the last couple years). International access might be a little easier than the previous case, but not as easy as going to YouTube and hitting play.

The third and final variety are the gritty dramas with heavy social, cultural, religious, gender and class commentary that Indian cinema industry has always made, and has upgraded in the recent years to include queerness. Once again, the access will be hard, but if we are looking for queer stories that also show the audience what it is like being queer in India, beyond the glitz, the glam and the colors of pre-packaged Indian experience often sold to the West, this is where we will find it. Most of it will be sad, but we are a sad bunch who constantly make sad shit, so it will be on brand for us.

And all of these different varieties of content are gonna need to be picked up and promoted by the Indian folks in the QL fandom who are tuned into these regional industries. India not being a cultural monolith that is easy to package and ship is precisely why we have all these beautiful and crazy and sometimes even contradictory styles of media that are offered for us to explore. And therefore, the fandom engagement on Indian QL content would also vastly differ from the fandom engagement for Japan, Thailand and Korea. A dedicated fandom captain might not emerge, but rather, a collective group of folks tuning into and promoting finds from their regional industries would be the way to go. In addition, if this content is not available in English, we would need fan subbers to provide translation expertise to even make it accessible, something we see often for Japanese media on Tumblr.

I know from observation that watching media in a different regional language could sometimes be as foreign to Indian audiences as watching media from other countries. The language, traditions, mannerisms, social mores and food would all be different from region to region, but I guess it would be a good litmus test to observe how well the fandom acclimates to a culture that is so eye-wateringly diverse and not as constantly promoted to them.

When I was texting @waitmyturtles discussing how we can approach answering this question (remember when this all started with a question, some two thousand-ish words ago? Yes, that question), at a point in our conversation I exclaimed "Ugh, everything in India is too complicated!" This long-ass post of mine is in no way the complete account of why things are the way they are in the Indian queer media landscape. But all I know for sure is that it’s not simple. And I really do not want anything related to India to be simple, because being unbearably frustrating and complicated is not a bug, but a feature of India. The road to Indian QLs is unique, but I will do my best to check the paths and share and recommend them to my friends whenever possible. And I invite my fellow Indian QL fans to do the same.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - 13 November

🦔 - Who knew Attenborough's echidna was just camera-shy?

1. New state law prevents animal abuse offenders from owning pets

The law bans those convicted of animal cruelty, including those involved with dogfighting, from owning any kind of animal for five years after their first criminal offense.

2. A door at a Swedish library was accidentally left open — 446 people came in, borrowed 245 books. Every single one was returned

The library was supposed to be closed for All Saints Day — a celebration sometimes also called All Hallows Day, the precursor of Halloween. But the library staff had forgotten to close a door. So people came in, thinking the library was open. Some visitors realized the library was technically closed and went home, but others did not.

3. Ohio votes to legalize marijuana for adult recreational use, becoming 24th state to do so

Ohio voters approved a measure legalizing recreational marijuana on Tuesday, defying Republican legislative leaders who had failed to pass the proposed law.

Passage of Issue 2 makes Ohio the 24th state to allow adult cannabis use for non-medical purposes.

4. First ever images prove 'lost echidna' not extinct

Scientists have filmed an ancient egg-laying mammal named after Sir David Attenborough for the first time, proving it isn't extinct as was feared.

An expedition to Indonesia led by Oxford University researchers recorded four three-second clips of Attenborough's long-beaked echidna. Spiky, furry and with a beak, echidnas have been called "living fossils".

They are thought to have emerged about 200 million years ago, when dinosaurs roamed the Earth.

5. Dog leads family to missing cat that fell into 30-metre mineshaft

An incredibly lucky cat has his canine companion to thank for saving his life after the dog led rescuers to a 30 metre-deep mineshaft the cat fell into.

The cat, Mowgli, disappeared on Oct. 20 and had been missing for six days. Owner Michele Rose told the BBC that she had “almost given up hope” of finding her cat.

6. World’s first whole eye and partial face transplant gives Arkansas man new hope

A surgical team at NYU Langone Health in New York has performed the world’s first successful whole-eye transplant in a living person: Aaron James.

After an accident at work led to the loss of his left eye and part of his face, Aaron was given a new window to his soul, as well as a partial face transplant.

7. Obesity drug Wegovy cut risk of serious heart problems by 20%, study finds

The popular weight-loss drug Wegovy reduced the risk of serious heart problems by 20% in a large, international study that experts say could change the way doctors treat certain heart patients.

The research is the first to document that an obesity medication can not only pare pounds, but also safely prevent a heart attack, stroke or a heart-related death in people who already have heart disease — but not diabetes.

---

That's it for this week :)

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[kurishiri]

00 . . . “ the hunter and the cursed ones’ medical records ”

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— this story is told from Roger’s point of view. it’s recommended, but not necessarily required, to read the second prologue before reading this.

— cw: none.

At an unexpected time, a pure white evil had descended upon England.

The castle had since suddenly become more noisy, but the one who had to pay attention especially——was someone like myself.

Alfons: I’m coming in, Roger. Victor entrusted me to hand you this book...

A: I must say, this is quite a sight to behold.

Documents were scattered everywhere in the room, leaving no room to maneuver or step around, and Al, seeing this, furrowed his brows.

Alfons: I can’t help but wonder if you’ve made a sore blunder and just up and left in the middle of the night?

A: All that said, I do hold my doubts on whether it’s even possible to run away with that big body of yours...

Roger: Trying to start up another argument as always, huh.

R: I was just thinking I should sort out all these different types of research documents.

Alfons: And why is that?

Roger: ‘Cause of Vogel.

R: Not like I know if they’ve got some ulterior motive hidden up their sleeve, but in those cases there’s no such thing as exercising too much caution.

Alfons: Seldom comes a time when I do agree with you, but it seems we do see eye to eye in this matter.

Al picked up one of the documents from the floor with his fingers.

Alfons: Well, I’ll be, this is our medical records [1], no?

Roger: That it is, it’s highly confidential too.

Alfons: Height, weight, medical history...

A: Dear me, to have this written as well. It’s as though the notion of privacy is nonexistent!

Roger: Don’t go taking my tenacity so lightly now?

R: Well, all that said, it’s not like I don’t know where you’re coming from. To know everything about someone else is basically the same as grasping their weaknesses.

R: But, on the flip side, you could also say that if I’m the one holding onto such information, I could save you guys’ lives.

Alfons: Hah. I suppose it is a case of the same coin having two sides.

Roger: Pretty interesting stuff, right? See, for example, Jude—

Alfons: .........

A: Just how long do you plan on continuing this?

While playing with the document with his fingers as though having little interest in them,

ashy gray eyes looked my way.

(I’ve never talked about the real reason I’ve joined Crown.)

(That is, aside from this person before me, who’s an old acquaintance of mine, though begrudgingly so.)

Roger: What, you want me to pay more attention to you?

Alfons: Most definitely not. So by all means, do continue your unproductive research.

A: Well then, I’ve done what I needed to do here, so I will take my leave.

Roger: Wait, Al.

Alfons: What is it?

I waved Al’s medical record as I read it aloud.

Roger: Alfons Sylvatica. Bearer of the Mirror Curse.

R: Sound for someone who’s regularly unsystematic. Has a stomach that rivals that of a beast.

R: And...

R: A friend from the old times, whom I’d like to get along better with me.

Alfons: And that is exactly why Jude calls you a ‘quack of a doctor.’

That was all he said before he closed the door, the sound cold and robotic.

Roger: Haha, he’s cold as always.

Now alone in the room, silence fell upon me as I looked out the window.

Rays of sun that penetrated through the leaves of trees came through, giving the medical records a streak of light.

(All I said was that I had an interest in the Cursed ones, so I was doing research on them.)

(But, that)

——was a complete lie.

There was no way I would choose not to succeed my family, instead joining an organization who specialized in assassination just because I was ‘interested.’

The reason I joined Crown, was because it was a place where Cursed ones gathered.

And it was also a place directly under Her Majesty the Queen, so it was a perfect place to gather information.

“The Cursed ones”——it was an absurd fate, bestowed by the whims of God.

(And I——want to rid the world of Curses.)

(That was the reason I turned to Crown,)

(and it was my ambition for a long time now.)

And the medical records of Crown showed that very ambition,

as I’ve made meticulous records on every member.

——No, every member but one.

(The Queen’s Aide, Victor.)

(On his record, and his alone, there is not a single piece of useful information written down.)

As I stared at his medical record, I felt myself returning to a memory from the past.

When I first met Victor, it was at the hideout a serial killer was residing in.

By the time I arrived at the scene, the criminal had already drew his last breath, and only long, jet black hair flowed in the wind.

That man turned around, not uttering a sound.

When our eyes met, the man with eyes like jewels gave me a lax smile.

Victor: Good evening to you. The full moon tonight is quite beautiful, isn’t it.

first. next →

full masterlist 📄

NOTES:

[1] the apparent pronunciation (furigana) for this is [カルテ] (karute). It’s a Japanese loan word from the German word ‘Karte,’ which I believe translates to ‘card.’ In Japanese, though, it means a medical or clinical record for a patient. Anyway, any time you see ‘medical record,’ it is pronounced as karute.

[juyeonszn]

POISON IN MY MIND

PAIRING lee hyunjae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.54k

GENRES smut ﹒ some angst (but very little)

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, ceo/ceo’s son!hyunjae, assistant!reader, power play tbh, hyunjae is an asshole (for what he thinks is good reason), another jacob bae appearance, juyeon is also mentioned, there’s a rain scene bc i love my rain scenes <3, hyunjae is a stupid idiot, making out (aggressively), nipple play, no foreplay lol, unprotected sex, sex on a desk x2 — but one is missionary & one is doggy? style?, overstimulation, degradation, brat taming?, creampie lol, the aftercare is there i promise

SUMMARY who really cared that you supposedly hated your boss?

MORE HELLAURRRRR FAWNTOBER DAY 4!!! im hoping i have no delays with the rest of the fics but idk bc the burnout is starting to kick in….. someone pls help…. it’s bc my brain is making me write more than i planned 😭 anyways! pls reblog if u enjoyed!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

“Look at you, rutting against me like a fucking bitch in heat,” Hyunjae growls, lips beside your ear as he pounds into you from behind, your hair wrapped tightly around his fist. “Thought you hated me, sweetheart.”

“I— fuck— I do,” you whine, back arching off of the desk and into his chest. “I hate you s-so goddamn much.”

Okay, let’s rewind for a bit of context.

Truly, you hated Lee Hyunjae. He was such a pretentious prick, always dead set on being right about everything. He couldn’t stand those who he felt were inferior to him, those who he thought were incompetent. If he felt you couldn’t do your job to his standards, he’d fire you on the spot.

Despite not being the CEO of the company himself, he practically carried all of the perks that came with the position. That was only because he was the actual CEO’s son and the future heir to the conglomerate his father owned.

You had the unfortunate pleasure of being his assistant, tied to doing his bidding until your contract with the company timed out. You originally applied for the job for two reasons. The first was due to the fact that you genuinely loved the initial purpose pushed forward by the CEO. He shared a lot of similar ideals with you and had spectacular visions for bettering the business world. The second was because at the time of your application, you wanted to be the CEO’s assistant. And that was what you’d gotten hired for.

It paid more than well enough and it was your dream job. You loved what you did for at least the first year and a half. Until he announced that he’d be retiring within the next couple years and his son would be taking over as a form of practice for being in charge when he inherited the entire conglomerate.

You’d never met him in person before, only hearing the high praises Mr. Lee had for his precious son. So on his first day, you had extremely raised expectations for the male. You dressed your best (not that you didn’t put effort in before) and put on your sweetest personality, wanting to make a good impression on your new boss.

Imagine the disappointment you felt when you realized he was nothing but an entitled asshole.

He made you feel stupid, as if you didn’t know how to do your own job. What started as sitting in on important meetings and going over different documents with Mr. Lee, turned into running errands for Hyunjae and cleaning up his messes. If you weren’t out buying his coffee or grabbing his dry cleaning, you were sorting his paperwork for him and making sure he was prepared for his upcoming conferences, as if he wasn’t capable of doing so himself. You felt like a fucking babysitter rather than an assistant; like an errand boy rather than an employee.

You were so incredibly tired and it had only been four months. A few, tortuous months of you being treated like you hadn’t already given an arm and a leg for this company. Half of you wanted to just throw in the towel, rip up the damn contract right in front of the fucker and walk out of those gold plated double doors for good.

“Just push through, Y/N,” Jacob sighs over the video call. “Your contract ends at the end of the year, and if you still feel like quitting, then that’s that. You don’t have to worry about renewing or trying to reinstate your job.”

You were on your lunch break, holed away in one of the many unused conference rooms on the top floor. Hyunjae was being extra irritating today and if you didn’t speak with a voice of reason, you thought you’d make a drastic decision that would alter the course of your life forever. Whether that was tossing your employee contract in the shredder, or committing premeditated murder, the world may never know. Shout out to Jacob Bae.

“What if I push him out of the floor-to-ceiling window in his office? I could make it look like an accident. Everyone would probably rejoice instead of mourning him, because we would all be so much happier.” You throw the back of your hand over your forehead. Well, that answers that.

“You’re not killing anyone. If you got caught, you wouldn’t look good in a prison jumpsuit. Orange isn’t your color.” Jacob shakes his head, rolling his eyes playfully.

You gasp scandalously, sitting upright to gape at him. “What the hell? Yes, I so would! I would make that prison jumpsuit my bitch—“

Someone clears their throat behind you, causing you to flinch, whipping around in your swivel chair to find the culprit. When it’s none other than Lee Hyunjae staring back at you, you feel like your life has just flashed before your eyes. You wonder just how much of that conversation he heard before making his presence known.

“Um, Cobie, I’m gonna have to call you back…” You don’t allow your friend time to respond, ending the call before he can incriminate you more than you already have.

Hyunjae leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his absurdly broad chest. Did this guy have to wear the tightest dress shirts possible? Maybe it was time for him to update his wardrobe. You tuck your hair behind your ear, slowly standing up from the chair. His expression is unreadable, not that you ever had it easy when it came to understanding the many faces of Lee Hyunjae.

“Mr. Lee, what— uh— what can I do for you?” You ask with a slight waver in your tone. So much for not incriminating yourself. He purses his lips, taking a step closer to you.

“Juyeon can no longer accompany me on the trip to Tokyo next week. Which means you’re second on the totem pole,” he says simply, loosening his tie. “Better pack your bags, ‘cause I’m not taking no for an answer.”

This was horrible.

You were mentally cursing Lee Juyeon over and over. Why did he have to back out at the last minute? This was the one part of the job that you couldn’t allow yourself to do. You’d much rather drive in circles around Seoul and grab iced Americanos than be in a completely different country, with no other company aside from Lee Hyunjae himself.

When he gave you your demise, you immediately tried to get out of it. Your excuse was valid; you didn’t have a passport and that’s kind of essential when traveling to another country. But even then, it wasn’t enough to get you out of this predicament. Being the rich, influential man he was, Hyunjae had your passport expedited and sent to your mailbox within a couple days. You gave up after that.

There was nothing he couldn’t do.

Except maybe being tolerable. You think that was most likely his only fault. He could’ve been the complete package had he mastered the art of bedside manner. His father was one of the kindest, selfless men you’d ever met. You were often curious why those same traits didn’t translate to his son. Then again, he had probably been raised as a spoiled brat who got everything his heart desired.

To make matters worse, you had one of those suites with a Jack and Jill bathroom, meaning he could enter yours without difficulty if he wanted. You supposed that was because the rooms were reserved with him and Juyeon in mind. Perhaps the case would be different if you were the first pick for this trip.

You let out a deep exhale, waiting outside of the conference room that Hyunjae was currently in. This was meeting number seven, and the last of the day before you could finally go back to the hotel and relax. You’d be flying back to South Korea the following day on the Lees’ private jet. All of your time in Japan had been spent both sitting in and sitting out of board meetings, so much talk about business plans that you felt dizzy.

All you yearned for was a nice warm bath and some room service, wanting to call it an early night because of your flight in the morning. You were exhausted, eyes growing heavier and heavier the longer Hyunjae sat in that room full of old men that came from bloodlines of money. Even though it was your job to be here, you felt so out of place. There were moments you found yourself contemplating your career path. You were surrounded by people who could just sign a check to get rid of their life problems. That wasn’t you.

Before you can fall down a rabbit hole, the door to the conference room is swinging open and Hyunjae is storming out, some of the other board members calling after him. Your eyes widen and your eyebrows furrow, your body springing up to follow after him. Wearing some flats instead of heels was probably the smartest choice you’d made today, making it less of a struggle to chase after your boss.

“Mr. Lee!” You cup a hand around your mouth, trailing him like a lost puppy to the elevator. It closes before you can get on and you groan, running a hand through your hair frustratedly. As you wait for the next one down, you call the driver so the car is waiting out front. According to the recent weather notification on your phone, it was pouring outside.

The elevator dings when it arrives back at the floor you were on and you hurry to get on, pressing the lobby level aggressively in hopes it would move faster. Even the soothing music playing over the speakers isn’t enough to calm your nerves, picking at your nails as the numbers transition to the corresponding floors you pass. This was one of the numerous occasions you wished your boss wasn’t so impulsive. What did they even say to him in that meeting to cause such a reaction?

The doors open and you’re rushing out, frantically searching for Hyunjae in the lobby. You spot the driver parked under the carport, waiting. Your feet carry you to the car, knocking on the window to get his attention. He rolls it down with a confused look.

“Have you seen Mr. Lee?” You ask, a bit winded by all of the running you’d been doing.

“I thought I saw him walk that way,” he points ahead, though it hardly answers your question. “I didn’t realize you weren’t with him.”

Just fucking peachy. He was making you chase him into the rain now? You needed a pay raise.

Thankfully, it’s a breeze to spot him, since he’s the only person in the crowd without an umbrella. You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing yourself to walk out into the cold rain, weaving through pedestrians to get to him faster. He’s not much further from you, but you’d rather drag his ass back to the car sooner rather than later, the precipitation seeping through your dress shirt and pants, chilling you to the bone.

“Mr. Lee!”

You reach for his wrist and wrap your fingers around it, yanking slightly to yield his focus. He turns around with hardened features, but they soften just enough for you to notice when he realizes that it’s you. Your lips form a flat line, eyelashes coated with a mixture of mascara and rain water, obscuring your vision.

“I don’t know what happened in there, but I don’t have it in me to ask. Please, can we just go back to the hotel?” You ask almost desperately, teeth beginning to chatter. He frowns, but nods nonetheless, letting you pull him to the safety of the carport— where you’re free from the unrelenting pelts against your body— and into the car.

You don’t say anything the whole drive to the hotel you’re staying at, biting your tongue because you were afraid you might blow up on him over his stupidity and get yourself fired. Your bottom lip quivers and you hug yourself for warmth, the car’s heater failing to bring back the color in your cheeks. In spite of hating nearly everything about him, you thought the one good thing Hyunjae had going for him was his wits. He might’ve been stuck up, but he was smart as hell. Except right now. In your books, he was the biggest idiot in the history of idiots.

The silence continues even after you’ve arrived at your hotel, shadowing you into the elevator and to your respective rooms. You don’t acknowledge him, unlocking your suite and entering to avoid any conversation. The remainder of your energy for the day was used when you were attempting to save him from getting fucking hypothermia.

You stand in the shower until your fingers have pruned, resting your forehead against the frosted glass as the scorching water battered your back, easing the tension in your muscles. While changing into your pajamas, your phone buzzes with a text message.

[9:23pm] mr. lee (DNI): i don’t know if u’ve eaten already, but i ordered a lot of food if u’d like to have some of it.

[9:24pm] mr. lee (DNI): left my bathroom door unlocked so u can just let urself in

Your lips purse as you mull over his offer. It wasn’t exactly an olive branch, but even if it was, you wouldn’t take it as such. You had too much pride for that. Instead you viewed this as him just feeling guilty for having you pursue him in the rain. That was definitely not in your job description. Perhaps he wasn’t as heartless as he made himself out to be, and he just didn’t know how to extend an apology without being awkward about it.

Reluctantly, you give in.

[9:27pm] you: sure. be right there

You slide your feet into your slippers and shuffle through the four doors between the two of you that lead to his suite. It takes everything in you to not visibly react to the difference between your rooms. His is so much more spacious, with enough room for a table and couches, aside from the usual desk. Even he looks expensive, a silk pajama set adorning his body— the first few buttons undone to give you a glimpse of his chest, though it hardly leaves room for the imagination.

Hyunjae sits at the table, various sushi roll platters in front of him. He holds up his chopsticks as he scrolls through his phone mindlessly, glancing up when your slippers shuffle against the floor. He takes in your appearance as quickly as he can without making it obvious, the corner of his lips curling up when he sees the teddy bears on your feet.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d come,” he starts after a few minutes of eating in an awkward quietness. “Not just here, to my room, but on the trip in general. I thought you’d put up a bigger fight to get out of it.”

“It’s part of my job, Mr. Lee.” You say flatly, taking away as much emotion from the statement as you could to avoid getting in an unnecessary argument.

“We’re not at work and it’s outside of working hours, Y/N. You can call me Hyunjae.” He tries to meet your eyes but they’re focused on picking at the skin around your nails, legs criss-crossed on your seat.

“Why do you go by Hyunjae?” You decide to ask, glancing up at him finally. “Your dad said your birth name was Jaehyun.”

“I don’t remember when exactly it was, but when I was in grade school, a classmate called me Hyunjae by accident and it just stuck. I’ve never really liked the name Jaehyun, if I’m being honest. It was a common name, and well, you of all people should know that I’m all about my individuality.” He leans back in his chair a bit, folding his arms over his chest. You ignore how it makes his pectorals squish together. God, you were no better than man…

“Is that why you’re nothing like your father?” You don’t mean to say that out loud. The thought popped into your head, as it always does, and for some reason this time it just shimmies its way through your mouth. You press your lips together, shifting uncomfortably at the sudden tension that arises in the room.

“I’m well aware of what you think of me, Y/N,” he chides, tapping his fingers against his biceps. “You may think you’re good at hiding it, but I’m very perceptive. And I also overheard that conversation with your friend— the one where you were plotting my assassination and whatnot.”

“Are you open to rebuttal?” Perhaps you should just stop talking, maybe pause the hole you were digging yourself into. Did you want to keep your job? Sure this was all off the record, but be fucking for real, it was Hyunjae you were speaking with.

He shrugs. “Shoot. Let’s hear it.”

“You’re kind of a narcissist,” you kick off strong, hitting him right where you think it may hurt. “You don’t take in the consideration of others, and you always have to be correct. If someone even slightly disagrees with you, you lose your shit. You’re condescending, you’re a perfectionist, you’re hot headed, and after the stunt you pulled today, you’ve exhibited that you’re also really fucking irrational. I’ve done so much in the time I’ve been with the company prior to you, I’ve given so much of myself for the improvement that your father was aiming for and you took all that hard work and crushed it between your fingers, just to have me running around like I’m your maid.”

Hyunjae wears an amused smirk on his lips, like he couldn’t be bothered with your grievances. Your eye practically twitches, irritation boiling up like water ready for a pasta dinner. You stab your chopsticks into a piece of sushi with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re cute when you get worked up,” he hums, carding a hand through his hair. “I almost want to keep my thoughts to myself.”

You choke on your saliva, smacking yourself on the chest to regain control of your breathing. Whatever you were expecting him to say wasn’t that. Should he even be calling you that? He was your boss. Not just that, but you sort of hated everything there was to hate about him. The tiny compliment shouldn’t make both of your heartbeats quicken.

“W-What are you talking about?”

Hyunjae stands from his chair, walking around the table to sit on the edge of the desk in the room, not much further away but enough distance to keep you calm. He rolls his neck, scratching at the nape to relieve some of the awkwardness seeping into the suite. “My father has done nothing but sing your praises since he hired you. I know how capable you are of this job, Y/N. I know that you’ve accomplished more than individuals who have been with the company even longer than you. Trust me, I know.”

“Then why do you discard me the way you do? Why do you treat me like I don’t know what I’m doing?” This time you don’t stop the emotions from creeping beneath your words, your voice cracking just slightly. If Hyunjae heard, he makes no effort to show it.

“Because, I had to keep myself as far from you as possible,” he admits, finally making eye contact. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I was fucked. I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you and as your boss, I couldn’t do that. As my father’s son, I couldn’t do that. So I resorted to the next best thing, making you hate me and having you do shitty side tasks to separate myself from you. I thought, ‘If she thinks I’m the worst boss ever, she’ll want nothing to do with me’. And that’s exactly what my goal was. But now you’re here in Tokyo, alone with me in my hotel room and I’m starting to rethink that decision.”

You stare at him— mouth agape, heart in your throat. Once upon a time, you believed Lee Hyunjae was one of the brightest, smartest businessmen of your generation. It seemed that he just wanted to go and prove you wrong on that today, in multiple instances. How could someone be so fucking stupid? You were genuinely curious what went through his head.

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoff, a laugh devoid of humor sneaking in along with it as you stand from your own chair. “Actually unbelievable. What made you think that was a good idea? You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be in this position because you didn’t think you could keep it in your pants around me?”

And just as you’re about to leave, he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you. You were getting a weird sense of déjà vu. He pulls you into his chest, your body sandwiched between his legs as he holds you close to him. Your eyes are wide and your lips are parted. (Though you don’t know if it’s out of shock, sudden arousal, or both.)

In this proximity, you can see every small detail of his face. From the freckle on the bridge of his nose to the thick eyelashes framing dark eyes to the softness of his lips. You’ve never had the opportunity to properly look at Hyunjae, always too pissed off to even be within ten feet of him. But standing here— face-to-face, eye-to-eye— you’re starting to wish the object of your hatred and many complaints wasn't so handsome.

“If you push me away now, I’ll leave you alone forever,” he breathes, hands fisting the material of your pajama top, as if that would ground him. “If you tell me there’s absolutely no possibility of you wanting me back, I’ll let you go back to your room like none of this happened.”

You don’t respond. The words are right there. They’re perched on the tip of your tongue, just anticipating to climb out of your mouth and put him in his place. It’s been months of constantly feeling like you were meaningless to the company you’ve given so many sleepless nights to— months of second guessing just how much you’ve actually contributed. But with one glance down to your lips with eyes resembling the night sky, Hyunjae has managed to wipe all of that from your memory.

So instead of turning around— instead of walking through the four doors that divide your hotel rooms— you stay planted between his thighs, grabbing the sides of his face and pulling his lips onto your own.

He groans into the kiss, tightening his grip on your shirt and bringing you closer to him. You feel him against your stomach, hard and ready for you, ready for any contact you’re willing to give him. It’s so much and too little at the same time, fingers slipping beneath your top and searing your skin.

He nips at your bottom lip, as if asking for permission to permeate your mouth with his tongue. You welcome the wet muscle with gratitude, moaning when it tangles with yours. The blunt edges of his nails dig into your lower back when the sound hits his ears. You tug at the hairs on the base of his neck, one hand sliding down the front of his body to feel him up.

Through the thin silk of his pajamas you can make out the outline of his sculpted torso. If Hyunjae was more coherent and less intoxicated by your lips on his, he’d tease you for your desperation. But because he's neither of those, he, too, finds himself clawing at every bit of fabric of your clothing he can, longing to touch anything he can get his hands on. You feel drunk, and you wonder if he makes you feel like this with his lips alone, what else can he do?

The straps of your top fall off your shoulders the longer you stand there, making out like it was second nature to both of you. When you take a step back to catch your breath, lips swollen and glistening with a mixture of both yours and his saliva. Your chests are heaving up and down, foreheads resting on the other’s.

“Can I take that as a yes?” Hyunjae rasps, pushing your straps further down your arms. You whine, connecting your mouths again. This was embarrassing enough, you didn’t want to have to say the words out loud. Saying it out loud made this real, and you didn’t want to accept the fact that you were about to fuck your boss.

He chuckles against your lips, undoing the buttons of his shirt without parting from your kiss. You help him toss it somewhere in the room, your hands groping his arms and squeezing his biceps. He spins the two of you around so you’re the one with the edge of the desk on your back. His arms hook under your thighs, placing you on the surface so it’s less strain on his neck as he leans down.

You instinctively spread your legs to make room for him, throwing your head back with a drawn out sigh when he presses two fingers to your core. Even with your panties and your flimsy pajama shorts in the way, the pressure relieves some of the ache you feel in your gut. Your top slips off enough that your bare breasts are now on full display for Hyunjae. He keeps circling your clit through your clothes, mouth enveloping one of your peaked nipples and tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

“C-Can’t hold on anymore,” you whimper. “Need to cum on your cock.”

Something shifts in Hyunjae when he hears you beg. You’d always been so set in stone when it came to standing your ground, so for you to surrender yourself to him, in spite of reiterating how much you despise him, it did a number on his sanity. You have no idea what you’ve just done to him.

“No foreplay? Think you can handle it, sweetheart?” He goads, but his fingers dip into the waistband of both your underwear and your shorts to pull them down your legs anyway.

“You’re talking a whole lot for someone who’s still wearing their pants.” You bite back, but almost immediately retract your words when he rids them, revealing that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath them. No fucking wonder you could feel him so much.

He’s huge, like so huge you kind of regret skipping the foreplay. But it was too late to go back now, your pride as big as his dick. One of your hands reaches to wrap around his length, your teeth finding purchase on your lip as you stroke him gently. Every pulse and every vein beneath your touch has you curling your toes in excitement. He hisses when your thumb swipes over his tip, collecting the precum that’s formed there.

Hyunjae drags you closer to the edge, prying your legs wider so he fits perfectly between them. You guide him to your entrance, a moan ripping from your throat when he presses into you. He’s not even fully sheathed inside of you, but the stretch is so fucking delicious, stinging just enough that it provides pleasure rather than pain. He pulls out to drive back in and repeats, a little deeper each time he does.

When he bottoms out, his hips snap into yours, large hands keeping your thighs apart as he begins to thrust into you. His cock is snug within your warm walls, kissing so deep inside that you start to see stars well before the coil in your abdomen has begun to wind up. The noises leaving your mouth are insane, loud and echoing throughout the hotel room. It made shame bubble up in your chest, because why couldn’t your detestation overpower the urge to crumble at his fingertips?

“Fuck you’re so tight,” Hyunjae groans, eyes concentrated on where his cock slips in and out of you. “You needed this, huh? Needed me to fuck you real good? Like a filthy slut?”

You’ve never thought you’d be into degradation. In fact, a man calling you demeaning names actually pissed you off. So you felt like you’d end up picking a fight if ever in the situation where someone tried to degrade you. However, the words falling from Hyunjae’s lips have the opposite effect on you. They have you clenching around him and mewling like a goddamn pornstar.

His pace is relentless, inching you closer and closer to your breaking point. He lays you flat on the desk, one hand gripping your hip and the other sneaking to your clit. His thumb rubs ovular motions into the engorged skin, his body folding over yours to capture your lips with his. He swallows your cries when your climax washes over you suddenly, your walls fluttering around his cock.

Hyunjae pulls out before he can follow suit, flipping you onto your stomach like you were a fucking pancake. He bends you over the edge of the desk as his thumb continues to circle your clit slowly, languidly just to ride out your high. He propels forward, his dick still so hard as it breaches your hole once again. He curses, extra sensitive after depriving himself of his own orgasm.

You push back on him, wanting to feel him even deeper. Your whole body burns beneath him, his chest slick with sweat as it presses you flat to the desk. You need him everywhere, God you want him everywhere. It’s not enough to have him buried inside of you. You need to be one with him; one body, one mind, one soul. You need him filling your senses— blinding your sight, obstructing your scent, stealing your touch, invading your taste, muting your hearing.

Okay, now let’s resume.

“Look at you, rutting against me like a fucking bitch in heat,” Hyunjae growls, lips beside your ear as he pounds into you from behind, your hair wrapped tightly around his fist. “Thought you hated me, sweetheart.”

“I— fuck— I do,” you whine, back arching off of the desk and into his chest. “I hate you s-so goddamn much.”

“Yeah? I’m sure you do. You hate me so much, yet you want me to fuck you full of my cum, don’t you? Gonna let me finish inside you?” His voice is exerted, and you can tell he’s close. But you are too, so you’re not above pleading for your sweet release. Not when it rewards you so well.

“Mhm,” you whimper, cheek smushed to the surface under you. “Please, Jae… Need it so— oh my god— need it s-o bad.”

Hyunjae hikes one of your knees onto the desk, allowing him to plunge extensively. Your clit bumps the edge, that coil in your stomach fracturing little by little until it’s busted completely and you’re a babbling, incomprehensible mess. The sight of you fucked absolutely stupid tips Hyunjae into his own spiral, painting your velvety walls with thick ropes of his cum. He lets his forehead fall on your shoulder, rocking into you with delayed groans as he spills all he has to offer you. It’s so much that even his cock plugging you up isn’t sufficient to keep it from dribbling along your thighs.

You’re both too winded to move, much less fathom what just happened. You feel him panting on your back, eyes shut as you also attempt to regain your bearings. Where the hell do you go from here?

“H-Hyunjae…” You wince when he stirs inside of you. “Can— uh— can you pull out?”

He grunts as he carefully does what you’ve asked, running a hand down his face when more of his release trickles out of you. He knew you couldn’t afford another round. Just by looking at you he can see how spent you are. What you needed was another bath and some good rest. Without skipping a beat, he reaches out to tuck some strands of your hair that were stuck to your face behind your ear, wiping away the sweat that glued itself there.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he says, grasping your hands and caressing the backs with his thumbs. “But that can wait until tomorrow. For now, just let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay.” You agree, tone no more voluminous than a whisper.

You did have a lot to discuss pertaining to tonight, but that wasn’t a priority at the moment. Who really cared that you supposedly hated your boss? All you could focus on was how gentle his fingers were as he washed your body for you, massaging your muscles so delicately you might as well have melted in the palms of his hands. And all you could pay attention to was the hushed sound of his voice as he kissed your temple and lulled you to sleep, within the comfort of his arms.

Yeah. You could revisit the whole Lee Hyunjae hatred train another day.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[musashi]

its just so frustrating to have watched the psy-op revolve around black lives matter in 2016 and see all these legitimately intelligent leftists on my dash let their despair at not being able to do more indoctrinate them into what we now have tangible proof was a psy-op. watch them spread that anti-voting rhetoric that definitely had a hand in the worst, darkest government i have ever lived through, where thousands of people--including my friends--died.

it is so frustrating to watch the revisionist history take place now. "there was no psy-op! tumblr was just banning black bloggers because they're racist!"

(tumblr was not the only website affected, black twitter users had a whole HASHTAG where they exposed these bots as fakes, and there are actual fucking government documents you can easily google & read on this)

and now the same thing is happening using the genocide of the palestinian people as the same conduit. indoctrinating people whos politics rightfully are rooted in empathy and righteous compassion, passion for activism and change. showing them these violent photos of war and death, dragging them into these depths of despair, and then cheekily reminding them right at the end--remember, you're powerless. voting won't save them. reblog another gofundme, doomscroll for another hour, traumatize yourself with another photo of a corpse, and stay home on election day seething.

propaganda does not come in the form of a bogeyman. propaganda relies on convincing you that complacency is the best thing you can do.

i understand how horrible it feels. as an autistic person i suffer from hyperempathy, combined with a strong sense of justice that makes me feel like i am ON FIRE if i cannot help someone in need. but you need to take a deep breath, before reblogging that video where a bunch of palestinians out of context say "the election in the US doesn't matter," and think to yourself--why was this video made? what is the source? who is paying them? is it possible that these responses are cherrypicked? does this video give a wide breadth of the nuance involved, or is it just meant to get a reaction out of me?

this is a skill you can build. you are not immune to propaganda. but you can learn what propaganda looks like, and minimize your capacity to fall victim to it.

it's ok that you do sometimes. it's insidious on purpose. it's not a moral failing. but you have to try your best to think back on things, realize you might have internalized some bad ideas, and learn how to do better in the future.

yes, destroy the fucking democratic party. thrash them. rail into them. spit fire and venom and demands at them. protest. rally in the fucking streets. press their backs against the wall.

after we vote them into office.

[1e1e1e]

king undying.

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