#(also. there were still interesting women around when I was twelve. trust me you all ignored and demonized them then too) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 4 years ago

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kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years ago

Text

The Right Chapter 23 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

hello my loves! Some of you may have already seen this, but I have news! This fic is officially complete. There are thirty chapters, so you still have seven left after today’s update. I’ll be keeping the usual Tuesday/Saturday posting schedule, so you have a month left of updates.

Now that I am done drafting this fic, my requests will be open while I begin to bank up new chapters of the Hotch x Reader Scandal!AU that I plan to write next. Please send in requests here. I would also LOVE if you could fill out this survey about the Scandal!AU so I can get a sense of what you all would like. I will make sure to write it in a way that makes sense, even if you haven’t seen Scandal!

As always, thanks so much for reading, y’all are just the best.

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: canon-typical descriptions of violence, cursing, hospital mention

wordcount: 2.3k

A little while later, Hotch sends JJ and Emily to the school to interview the classmates of the students who had been murdered, and you and Morgan head off to the medical examiner’s office.

“Find anything interesting in the calls from the tip line?” Morgan asks you as he pulls out of the parking lot, and you shrug.

“I need to go back through my notes. There were a couple kids' names that came up, but I want to go back and cross check for the names that came up more than once-- i figure if the name only comes up once, it’s kids pranking each other and I don’t want to waste our time on dead ends. Garcia’s looking into a teacher for me, though.”

“We just need a couple more puzzle pieces, and then it’ll all come together,” Derek says, more to himself than to you, and you murmur out your agreement as he pulls into the examiner’s office.

“Cause of death for Mrs. Mack and Mrs. Sutton was a gunshot wound to the neck. The daughters, to the abdomen,” the doctor says, passing over her report. “The men were all strangled. The boys by hand, the men with a garrote.”

“Any idea what order they were killed in?” You asked.

“My guess is the women first, one right after the other. Then the sons, and the husbands.”

“How did he stop the husbands from taking him down while he killed the sons?” Morgan asks skeptically.

The medical examiner points out a bruise on Mr. Sutton’s skull. “Looks like he was knocked unconscious, maybe by the butt of the gun or something in the home.” She explains.

“Thank you,” you said to the medical examiner, who smiled and left you both to your work.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Morgan asks you.

“White man in his twenties or thirties, snubbed by a woman he desired for another man, taking out the families he’s convinced he’ll never have?”

“Call Hotch,” he said, taking off at a brisk pace back towards the car and trusting you to follow. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and discovered that Garcia was already calling you.

“Hi Garcia, can you patch Hotch in?” You asked.

“Already here bug, and trust me, you’re gonna want to hear this.” She told you, and you put the phone on speaker so Morgan could listen in while he drove.

“What did you find, Garcia?” Hotch asked.

“So, I looked into Marc Vexper, and it turns out this long-term English sub has something to hide-- he didn’t make a single card purchase on either day that he was out, and his phone was completely off from the moment he stepped off the school’s campus to the time he returned.”

“Morgan and I are just leaving the medical examiner’s office now-- Marc fits the profile to a tee.” You interject.

“Oh but wait, the high school of horrors doesn’t end there,” Garcia warns you. “I took a peek at Marc’s texts looking for clues about his whereabouts, and I noticed some too-friendly chats with Victoria Sullivan, a student in his AP Literature class. Her phone was on both days, and I’ll give you one guess as to where she was both days-- and it wasn’t school.”

“You’re kidding,” Morgan sighs out.

“So did he groom Victoria into doing it herself, or was she an accomplice?” Hotch asked.

“The men were strangled, Aaron. There’s no way she could have done that herself.” You tell him.

“We need an address, Penelope.” Hotch demands.

“Already on your phone. The station’s closest.” She tells you.

“We’ll meet you there.” Hotch says, and the line clicks.

In a routine you’ve performed too many times to count, Morgan flicks on the lights and sirens as you mount your phone with the GPS sending you in the right direction. It’s all the same as it usually is, so why are you so nervous?

**********************

Hotch elects not to put on his lights and sirens as he approaches Mr. Vexper’s house, not wanting to alert him that anyone had found him out. There are two cars in the driveway-- a modest sedan with a few dings in it, and a shitbox of an old jeep with a parking permit for the local high school on the back bumper.

“The girl is here-- she might be a hostage.” Hotch tells Spencer, who nods. “We need to be careful. There’s no need for any other kids to lose their lives,” he says, quietly opening up his car door and gesturing for Spencer to take a back entrance while he takes the front. He climbs the worn wooden steps and peeks into the window, seeing nothing before he takes one hand off of his gun to swing open the front door of the home, where he’s met face to face with the Victoria Sullivan, standing on the main stairway of the home, gun leveled square at the middle of his forehead.

“Victoria, put the gun down,” Hotch says slowly, raising his own hands as a sign of good faith. “I’m here to help you. Where’s Marc?”

Before Victoria can answer, Hotch hears the woosh of metal in the air and feels an overwhelming crack in his legs, falling to the ground as he yelps in pain.

“Run, Vicky! You know where to go!” Marc yells, and the girl disappears from Hotch’s blurring line of vision as March continues to beat on Hotch with a crowbar, stomping on his legs.

Hotch vaguely hears Spencer's running footsteps, and Marc takes off, running in the same direction as Victoria.

Spencer falls to the ground next to Hotch, attempting to gently tend to his injuries, but Hotch weakly waves him off.

“Go, go, save the girl, he’ll kill her next. I’m okay. Go,” he coughs out, and after a moment’s hesitation, Spencer goes.

Hotch groans as he gropes around in his pants pocket, pulling out his cell phone and calling Garcia.

“I need help,” he says once the line clicks.

****************

If Aaron lived through this, you were going to kill him yourself. You knew you were being irrational, you knew it wasn’t his fault, and worst of all you know that he hadn’t even done something you could be mad at him for, like going in without backup. This was just the job. This just happened sometimes. And you were absolutely fucking livid that it was happening to him. Not to mention scared shitless.

Morgan had pumped the gas as soon as Garcia called, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Your leg bounced anxiously in the passenger seat.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Morgan attempted to placate you, but you wouldn’t have it.

“You don’t know that,” you spat out.

“He’s tough. He’s got a lot to stick around for. He’s gonna be okay,” He tells you, and this time you don’t argue.

When you finally pull up to the house, Aaron is on a stretcher being loaded onto an ambulance. You throw yourself out of the SUV before it’s even fully stopped, calling out for Aaron.

“I’m okay,” he sputters out as you climb into the back of the ambulance.

“No you aren’t, you asshole,” you scoffed at him, your voice a little watery. “Tell the paramedics what happened so they can help you,” you said, stroking at the hair at the top of his head as your chin quivered.

“Don’t cry,” he says, reaching up for you and you see that his hands are bloody.

“Shh, shhh. Don’t worry about me. Let them help you,” you calmed him down, trying not to let your tears interrupt the medics when his eyes roll into the back of his head and he loses consciousness.

Aaron will live, and you suppose you won’t follow through on your threats to kill him. Once he’s in the hospital, they wheel him back to a restricted area, leaving you alone in a waiting room while the rest of the team finds the unsub. You call Jess, let her know what’s going on, but ask that she keep it from Jack until you’re back in the room with him and Hotch is able to talk to Jack himself. You didn’t want Jack to worry, and you knew that Aaron’s assurance that he was fine was the only comfort Jack would accept.

After a while-- it could have been thirty minutes or three hours, Emily appears in the waiting room..

“I was appointed to come check on you,” she says by way of greeting. “Have you seen him yet?”

“Not since they took him out of the ambulance. He looked… bad,” you struggle to find a word that explains the magnitude of it.

“He’s gonna be fine. No gunshot wounds, just some nasty bruises. I’m sure it looked worse than it actually was.” She consoles you gently.

“I hope you’re right.”

At that moment, a doctor appears in the doorway. “For Agent Hotchner?” He asks, and you walk over to him.

“I’m Aaron’s partner,” you explain, the word “girlfriend” feeling entirely too childish for the scenario.

“Agent Hotchner is going to be just fine. His left leg is fractured slightly at the femur and the kneecap, but we’ve put him in a brace to stabilize the knee, and he should recover over the next eight to twelve weeks. He’ll need some physical therapy, and field work is out of the question until he is cleared, but he’ll make a full recovery. He has a mild concussion and a few bruised ribs, but we’ve given him some meds for the pain and the concussion shouldn’t present any further complications.”

No field work. Aaron was going to be pissed. “Thank you, doctor.” You said gratefully.

“He’s been asking for you, if you’d like to follow me,” The doctor responds, and you allow him to lead you down a maze of hallways, leaving you just outside Aaron’s room, where his eyes are shut and his chest rises and falls slowly. Figures, you were sure he’d been up all night running through profiles in his head.

You sat on his right side, away from his injured leg, and rested your head against his mattress, near his hip bone. He looked so fragile like this, wrapped up in a thin blanket and a johnny, bandaged from his collar bone to his toes. You wondered, briefly, if he felt this helpless and frustrated the night that he picked you up from your old apartment. The tears well up against your will, but you allow them to fall, for a few moments. You had earned the right to care for him, to worry about him, to fret. You had earned the right to sit vigil at his hospital bed and try to force images of a lifetime lived without him to stop passing through your head.

Aaron stirred, and you sucked in a quick breath, not wanting to wake him. He settled, again, and you rested your head back against the mattress, letting the gentle rhythm of his breath lull you to sleep.

He twitches a little while later, and the sudden movement jolts you awake. His return to the waking world is slower, and you let him come at it at his own pace, not wanting to overwhelm him when he was probably already going to be in pain and disoriented. You hear him mumble out your name and you stand, placing one hand on his cheek and the other in his uninjured palm.

“I’m right here, baby,” you whispered to him.

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to look you up and down without moving his neck.

“Am I--” you chided gently. “Honey, I’m fine. Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

“My leg,” he tells you, trying to sit up, but you push back on his shoulders.

“Absolutely not,” you tell him. “You broke your leg. You are staying in this bed until a doctor tells you otherwise.”

“Fuck,” Aaron muttered out. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “Is Spencer okay? And the girl, Victoria Sullivan?”

“The team took them both alive. Spencer is fine, just a little breathless from his run.” You tell him.

“When is it gonna heal?” He switches topics back to his injury.

“You mean, when are you going to be allowed into the field again?” You asked skeptically, and he at least has the good grace to look sheepish. “Not for at least six weeks, more than likely closer to ten, plus physical therapy.”

“God damnit,” Aaron sighs.

“It could have been a lot worse, Aaron,” you point out softly, and he looks up at you.

“You’ve been crying.” He says softly.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Don’t lie to a profiler,” He chides you gently.

“Well, I’m the woman who loves you and I’ve earned the right to cry when you’re hurt.” You said defensively, but not unkindly.

“Hey, I’m okay. Really, I swear. Come up here,” he urges you, and you roll your watery eyes.

“I’ll hurt you,” you tell him.

“You’ll hurt me worse if you don’t come cuddle,” he pouts.

“Corny bastard,” you chuckle, tenderly sliding into bed next to him.

Unable to shift and cuddle, Aaron settles for reaching out for your hand, which you allow him to take in his own. He strokes his thumb over the back of your palm tenderly.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispers, and you might start crying again right there.

“Don’t do it again. I was ready to kill you myself,” you warned him.

“Noted.”

“We should call Jack. I didn’t tell him what was going on, I didn’t want to scare him. Jess knows.”

“I just… want to hold your hand for a couple more minutes.”

“Okay, love. A few more minutes.”

tagging: @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @ijustwannaread2k19 @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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ramzawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Rivals - Prince!Reader x Prince!Eret

Male

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request from 🌱🌟 my beloved <3 /p

Summary: Prince Y/N and Prince Eret hated each other. That was just a fact. Mostly causing trouble together in order to one up the other. Though over the time even their relationship can change.

Words count: 5367

Authors Note: I’ll be honest you hit me with this request at a very good time so I ended up writing 10 pages in one go haha

At the end I made the executive decision to finally cut it off or I probably would have written even more, for which I’m honestly don’t have the time at the moment. I hope it’s not that obvious but if it is I apologize.

Thank you for the request 🌱🌟

I am reposting it since the original post doesn’t seem to appear in the tags no need to check the original post but I wanted to give a reason why it’s twice on my blog

Prince Eret and Prince Y/N hated each other.

That was just a universally accepted thing and something that made sense. Just like how water is wet, the ground was made out of dirt, Eret and Y/N hated each other.

Both of their respecting kingdoms never had a good relationship to say the least. Way back in the day the two nations have wared against each other which almost ruined both kingdoms forcing the two to an act of neutrality with the behest of the neighboring kingdoms.

Though this was way off in the past. Nowadays they had rebuilt. Their forces and monetary situation stood strong but they stayed neutral. Eyeing each other closely for any slip ups, though they were also bound to contracts that would involve other nations as well should they begin to go to war again, which wasn’t in interest for both parties.

So they tried to mostly ignore each other which only worked to an extent. If you are a strong nation with an impressive military force or with a lot of money, other nations will invite you to their balls, banquets or whatever fancy party they have going at that point. And it was in your best interest to join these as well, to show off your might, wealth or to connect with other foreign powers.

The first time Y/N’s family took him with them to one of these balls, he was barely six years old.

For a six year old a ball was a boring affair. All the adults were courteously laughing and only sipping on their drinks. Occasionally walking on the stage to dance to the slow and boring music.

Y/N was busy watching two older women dance in tandem. Their dresses and silk moving together in a sea of fabric that seemed to hypnotized the child as he sat on the side of the stage. His parents were off somewhere else, feeling they could trust enough in his proper upbringing to not cause any problems, that they left him. Saying that he should try to enjoy himself.

Enjoy himself how? Dance with the lonely grandma that was busy drinking away all the wine in the castle? No, thank you.

Finally tearing his eyes off the dancing women Y/N noticed how someone else was cautiously approaching him. It was another kid in what he assumed was his age. This stranger had fluffy wild hair and had a sympathetic smile on his face. He wore a simple suit similar to Y/N’s but there were a ton of differences in details.

As he got closer Y/N could swear that something seemed off about him. Something in him was screaming but he couldn’t place why he felt like that.

“Hello.” The other kid greeted Y/N.

Y/N looked around the room for a second before setting his attention back on him “Hello. Who are you?” There was a small hope in him, hey maybe this boring ball won’t be so boring after all.

With a proud expression the kid did a proper royal greeting, bowing in front of Y/N for a second “I am Prince Eret from the mighty nation of-“

But Y/N interrupted him “Prince Eret?! I know of you! My parents warned me and told me to ignore you.” He then stuck his tongue out and made a point to look away from him.

Eret furrowed his brows, exclaiming loudly his confusion to this reaction “Huh? Why?”

Y/N rolled his eyes and got off the chair he was sitting on. Just like Eret, he did his own version of the royal greeting that he got taught by his etiquette teachers “I am Prince Y/N.”

He knew he didn’t need to say more which got confirmed by Eret’s worried and confused expression turning into a proper frown.

“Oh, yuck, so that’s what you look like.”

Y/N gasped in anger “What do you mean yuck? You are the yuck one here! Between the two of us I’m clearly the cooler prince!”

“Oh really? Prove it.” Eret huffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Now fired up Y/N looked frantically through the whole ball room but couldn’t seem to come up with anything, that was until he saw a servant of the local royal family sauntering around with a plate of drinks and even with a few cheese and meat skewers.

“I bet I could steal more of these skewers from the servants than you.”

Instead of backing down Eret now had a competitive glint in his eyes “You are on.”

And that’s how both Eret and Y/N got into their first real trouble with their parents and other nobles.

They snuck around the people, hiding behind huge skirts and trying their best to grab a skewer from the plate. At first they waited for the servant to look away while they were talking to someone but soon their maneuvers turned riskier and riskier. Jumping up to grab one or even trying to distract them before grabbing another.

At some point for whatever reason both jumped into the air at the same time, grabbing the same skewer which ended with them smashing into the servant who in return fell down, the drinks spilling onto a couple that stood closely by.

As the adults were trying to understand what just happened Y/N grabbed Eret’s arm and yelled “Run!”

The two begun running away, making their way into the garden, hiding behind a bush as they heard some adults screaming and running around.

Y/N didn’t care if Eret got caught by the adults but he was worried he might sell him out to them as well. No, he was positive he would definitely snitch on him.

Out of breath the two kids huddled together, keeping their ears open, trying to catch any sound that might come closer to them.

Eret looked at Y/N “I clearly won.” He then showed off the skewers he was holding against his suit, effectively ruining it.

Y/N shook his head, showing his own off “Nuh-uh. I clearly won.”

For some reason or another they managed to acquire the same amount of food so they sadly had to come to the conclusion that this was a tie. As they angrily begun snacking on their loot, they still continued throwing childish insults at each other.

This only lasted for a few minutes until their parents found them and figuratively tore them away to yell at them. Saying things like “this is not the proper behavior of a prince! Now we have to apologize to all the people! Do you know what this could cost us?”

From that point on their rivalry really started. Every few months they would meet up again by proxy of being invited to the same noble festivities. In fact every time Y/N was on such a party he fully expected Eret being there as well.

He would arrive and keep look out for that oh so dashing prince from the rival kingdom. Y/N scoffed, Eret wished he thought of him like that but in truth Y/N probably knew the best what kind of idiot he could be. After all he had firsthand experience for this.

While they always ended up in some sort of trouble there was this one moment, when they were twelve years old, that always stood out to him.

As usual Eret and Y/N found each other during a banquet. Both immediately fell back into arguing and making fun of each other. The adults got so tired of it that they sent the two outside so they could, in their words, cool down.

“You look ridiculous in your suit.” Eret mumbled towards Y/N as they wandered outside into the garden. Y/N just rolled his eyes as a response, choosing to ignore Eret at this point, not feeling comfortable with being banished outside together with him.

The garden was beautiful, of course.

Different kinds of flowers were planted along all the sides of the garden. Between them stood a few Willow trees with their long leaves hanging above the flowers and seating opportunities while in the middle of the whole place stood a beautiful huge pond with a statue protruding from the middle of it. The statue displayed two unidentifiable human beings holding on to each other, both holding an urn up into the air together where some water was rushing out ouf down into the pond.

While this all, together with the moon light, looked almost magical Y/N was more concentrated on what was inside the pond.

As he walked over to the water he could see a few koi fish flitting around in there. He sat down and lazily begun drawing invisible patterns into the water. Sometimes the fish would come close only to immediately swim away once they either saw the hand or felt the movement.

Eret was just standing dumbfounded to the side. Staring at Y/N which infuriated him. He could feel his dark eyes lingering on him and it just annoyed him. Eret finally shut up but now he was just standing there in uncomfortable silence.

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh “Stop doing that.”

Eret looked bewildered at that “Stop, what?”

“Staring! I can see you staring! I know I’m handsome but come on.” Y/N snickered at the last part.

This time Eret rolled his eyes “Nah, I was just thinking how easy it would be to push you into the water right now and was debating if it was worth getting into trouble for it.”

“And what did your small brain come up with?”

Eret walked over and sat down next to Y/N “It’s sadly not worth it. I feel like I would get in even more trouble than last time when I was destroying you in that food fight.”

Y/N angrily shook his head “Oh, no! I was winning! You were lucky my father literally pulled me away from you or you wouldn’t even be standing here right now!”

“You wish! Your father saved the small bit of dignity you have!”

Ignoring Eret’s attempt to obviously rile him up and make him more angry, Y/N turned now fully away from him and instead returned to watching the fish. They looked more interesting and had more personality than Eret anyhow.

It was also definitely easier to look at the animals than Eret. Every time he would look at him even only for a little bit this fuzzy anger inside the pit of Y/N’s stomach would come up and by god he hated it. Unbeknownst to him this feeling was mutual.

Eret almost seemed chuffed that Y/N didn’t seem to react and instead chose to follow him suit with watching the fish.

“If we are already stuck out here let’s make it at least interesting.” Y/N broke the silence “Let’s catch some fish. I’m betting I can catch more than you.”

Eret was already getting rid of his jacket and pushed his sleeves up “I doubt that!”

Not wasting time Y/N shed his jacket as well and rolled his sleeves up only to jump into the water himself once the fish stayed out of both their reaches due to their incessant punching into the water.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Not losing!” was all Y/N said.

Eret not feeling too keen on possibly losing, jumped into the pond as well, trying to ignore Y/N who was inadvertently splashing water his way.

As a bit of a payback Eret threw some water towards Y/N which resulted in him loosing a prime chance for trying to grab a fish.

Everything is allowed in love and war after all and this was definitely war.

Though this action led to Y/N retaliating with spraying water back on Eret. Soon the two didn’t care about the fish anymore and were too busy trying to wrestle the other under the water. It wasn’t a full blown fight, no real punches fell but there was a lot of pushing and pulling.

They only stopped once they heard a blood curdling scream. Apparently the noble who owned the garden saw them inside her pond and was obviously not too pleased with it.

Yeah, there was a lot of anger and screaming afterwards but for Y/N and Eret it just fueled their hatred toward each other. If the other one wasn’t there, then they wouldn’t have this problem in the first place but since this wasn’t the case all they could do as proper heirs to their respecting kingdoms was to make the others existence pain.

Over the years their rivalry became infamous and nobles who invited both to their festivities either tried to keep increased watch over them or to the detriment of both sides of the families, tried to incite them. Noble people where a strange lot, trying to find entertainment in the weirdest places.

Not that Y/N or Eret cared too much. They were too busy trying to screw the other over though their methods changed over the years. As kids they were more physical with it while the older they got they tended to use their words more and more to the relieve of their parents.

A good example for that was when both were about sixteen years old.

At this point they learned to rein in their anger towards the other and instead concentrated more or less on their royal duties. Well, they tried but every time they saw each other anger would just flood their systems.

It was a typical ball really. The nobles were busy mingling with each other, spreading false compliments in order to gain the political or social upper hand. Some called it an intricate game but Y/N thought it was just stupid. Just say what you think and don’t sugar coat it. That was something and maybe the only thing he and Eret could agree on. As much as he hated that guy he wasn’t scared to tell Y/N what he thought of him.

He appreciated him for that. A shiver ran down his spine as soon as that thought crossed his mind and Y/N just shoved it away. Never in his life would he actually appreciate that mad prince.

That said it was a bit weird how he hasn’t spotted Eret yet. Not that he was specifically looking out for him or anything. He just wanted to be aware where he was so he could avoid him. Was he invited? His family was here but he seemed to be gone. Maybe he finally gave up trying to one up Y/N and stayed home.

Y/N doubted that though. The only reason why Eret wouldn’t appear to something like this was if he was seriously sick. It happened only once and Y/N ended up being bored to death. So what if he derived entertainment from his rival? That’s a part of the reason what rivalries are for, right?

Spending so much time thinking about him made Y/N uncomfortable. This one feeling in the pit of his stomach just flared up again which he didn’t appreciate one bit. Just another reason why Eret was so annoying. He was the only person this happened with.

Bored out of his mind Y/N begun moving through the ball room. There was one place Eret could be hiding away at. If anything Y/N could predict some behavior from him over the years. Making sure to stay away from all the dancing people and the conversations, not feeling interested to take part in it. Instead he moved towards the gardens.

It was just the place he and Eret would default to since at the slightest chance of trouble the other nobles liked to throw them out immediately.

So when he spotted Eret walking around the rose bushes it didn’t completely surprise him.

“And here I thought I spied a birds nest in between the bushes but alas it is just Eret’s hair.”

Eret visibly flinched once he heard Y/N. Apparently he had been so busy with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Y/N approaching him. He frowned at the other prince while he in return was just smirking smugly.

Sighing Eret walked over to a particular big rose and begun inspecting it“ And I thought I would finally be free of you. You arrived late, huh?”

“Hardly my fault, though I too was hoping you finally conceded and stayed home but here you are just staring at some roses like some hopeless romantic prince from some sort of fairy tale.”

When Eret didn’t immediately fire back and hesitated Y/N’s eyes widened “No! Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me you actually have a crush on someone! Who is the poor person?”

As he spoke the words out loud it felt like his chest was ablaze. Something about that thought rubbed him the wrong way. He just labelled it as a different way for his annoyance towards Eret to show up but it confused him nonetheless.

Realistically what did he care about his love affairs?

Finally Eret vehemently shook his head “No, nothing like that! Why was this where your mind went? I was just bored and am looking at the flowers. Even you can admit that they are pretty, right?” Eret chuckled “Or are you jealous somehow?”

“Only in your dreams.” Y/N responded with a disgusted expression on his face.

“Nightmares you mean.” Eret added before pulling one rose out of the bush.

Y/N looked around hoping none of the staff or someone else saw this “Dude, what the hell are you doing? If you get into trouble for stealing flowers and I’m around everyone will think I’m part of this.”

“They won’t notice, Y/N. Well, they will only notice it if you aren’t careful enough. You need to have an eye for such things and me begrudgingly knowing you as well as I do, you do not have an eye for that.”

This is always how it happens. Every god damn time. One of the two would make a statement that the other person couldn’t do a very specific thing and all bets were off.

A dangerous glint appeared in Y/N’s eyes “I’ll give you the most amazing rose bouquet without tipping anyone off.” He didn’t seem to realize what he just said but Eret did.

While Y/N turned around in order to scour out the place Eret was still standing in the back. A soft blush on his face. Almost angry with himself he frowned and turned to the opposite direction Y/N just went. He was just so frustrating to be around. Doesn’t even think before he speaks.

This whole endeavor took longer than both initially expected. Most of the time they would just saunter between the bushes only occasionally plucking a flower off. Often enough the two stood in front of the same rose, trying to act as fast as possible to get it before the other.

Eret clearly went for the flower first but once his hand touched the stem of the rose, Y/N was there as well, his hand brushing past Eret’s, holding onto the lower part of the stem.

“You’ve got be kidding me.” Y/N cursed.

Eret squinted his eyes as he looked at him “What do you mean? I went for it first! You still continued grabbing it like the brute you are!”

Y/N gasped in a fake display of disbelief. Acting like the biggest insult just got hurled towards him when in fact Eret has said worse things before or even the countless nobles who suffered damages due to their shenanigans.

Both stared at each other, not letting go off the rose. Their brows furrowed into deep scowls as they just continued staring at each other. Hoping that for some reason any kind of weakness would just magically appear or that someone will let go off the damn flower.

It was incredibly uncomfortable for the both of them. Y/N and Eret both stared directly into each other’s eyes. Pink dusted faces turned towards one another, not daring to move a muscle.

“God, I hate you so much.” Y/N grumbled.

Eret nodded “Believe me the feeling is mutual.”

After a few more seconds of staring and angry expressions they both let go at the same time.

There they stood. Two princes of enemy kingdoms holding each a small bouquet of roses with blushing faces.

If you would ask them about it they would immediately exclaim the blush was just a result of their anger bubbling out.

Eret let out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding “Tie?”

Y/N looked down at his own bouquet “Yeah, sure, let’s call it a tie. This is stupid anyhow.”

That was the last time they saw each other for a while.

Since they both were heirs to their respective thrones they soon got sent away to boarding schools in order to get properly trained for their future duties. Besides being educated and introduced what these duties actually entailed, they also got trained in the art of combat.

While most of, if not all, nobles learn how to fight it was something expected from Y/N and Eret. They had to get good at it. A tradition that still stemmed from the waring days of their competing nations.

So for the next four years Y/N was sent away to a boarding school inside his own nation, only later hearing that Eret befell the same fate, which didn’t surprise him.

The years dragged on rather slowly. Most of the subjects were boring but Y/N realized they were important so he put himself through the grueling task of proper studying. The daily training sessions helped him immensely by bringing some sort of change to his every day and tended to look forward to them. Mostly since he became good friends with his coach. A mercenary hired by his family to train him.

Becoming a friend to him, while others tried stay away from Y/N. Most didn’t dare to approach the only heir of their kingdom, others knew he was a bit of a troublemaker and stayed away from him because of it.

Y/N caught himself missing Eret from time to time. While he was annoying and infuriating at best, Y/N couldn’t help but think it was more enjoyable than spending his time alone surrounded by people around his age.

Every now and again his thoughts would always jump back to Eret. Hell, he even once considered writing him a letter before he stopped in his tracks, realizing what he was about to do. Silently chastising himself for it.

Y/N graduated when he was twenty. His parents amazed by his progress threw compliments towards his improved behavior.

“Guess Prince Eret was the problem all along.” His mother noted.

He scoffed, of course Eret was the majority of the reason for the problems. His mother only needed to mention him and Y/N already felt the same annoyance from back then again. Guess some things never change.

It was the time for a lot of nobles to graduate so one family took it up on themselves to prepare a grand ball in order to celebrate these young adults. It also helped to bring all the heirs and influential people together to form new relationships that could be beneficial for their future rule.

Y/N got invited as well.

As a graduation gift his parents bought him fancy new clothes made out of the finest cloth. While he thought it was a bit over the top, it was comfortable so he didn’t complain too much. They even fashioned him with a ceremonial crown that complimented the whole outfit quite nicely.

It was only then that it really sunk in what this all meant for him. He had to act proper no matter what from now on. While people were always aware of him, now they were really watching. This also meant he had to start to properly get into contact with other influential families and nations which meant he had to actually dance on this ball.

So when he and his family stepped out of the wagon that brough them to this event, his heart was beating fast. Y/N was nervous and yet he still managed to put on a confident smile. He didn’t go through all these etiquette classes without learning a few things at least.

When he walked into the ball room, a servant announced his and his families arrival which caused a lot of people to turn their heads. It was the first official outing of an heir to an incredibly strong nation, of course they wanted to see what he was like.

In fact it didn’t take long until Y/N got swarmed by multiple people talking courteously and making conversation with him. He returned the gestures and mingled with the others, curious to see if anyone interesting was here. It was the first time in a long time people didn’t seem to avoid him, even if it was purely for the purpose of forming new beneficial connections.

It beat sitting around alone.

Y/N slowly scanned the huge room with his eyes that’s when he spied something that made his heart figuratively jump into his throat.

In the corner stood someone tall with a shock of brown and fluffy hair that got pushed down by a crown. He wore an amazing suit made out of silk and with a variant of different purples completed with something that resembled a cape. As he talked to the person in front of him he had this huge, genuine, beautiful smile on his face that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

He was handsome that’s all he could say about him. Knocking all the air out of Y/N’s lungs.

Pressing his hand against his madly blushing face Y/N tried to look like he was deep in thought and not just silently checking out this one person way off in the corner.

“Be still my beating heart.” Y/N mumbled as he pressed his free hand on his chest. Feeling his heart beating fast and hard against his ribcage. Luckily no one heard him but he did receive a few worried and confused looks. Guess he wasn’t as sneaky about his display of emotions as he had thought.

Y/N took a deep breath in and coughed in order to calm himself down a bit “I’m sorry to interrupt you all, but I need to go. I need to find something out. It was an honor talking with you and I hope we can continue this later on.”

With all the confidence he didn’t have Y/N slowly made his way towards that person. Something was just pulling him towards him and he needed to at least know his name. It was like his heart and mind both yelled at Y/N.

While walking he could tell that his breath was short. He felt hot and he was certain that his face was still in a lovely shade of red.

Did he just develop a probably one sided crush? Perhaps.

Once he got close enough, he begun to tremble. His knees felt weak and by god he wanted to turn around but something in him just forced him to move on. As if this was his only chance to ever exchange even a word with that stranger.

Y/N was about to put on a polite smile and wave towards him but the stranger was faster and turned towards him.

The stranger audibly and unmistakably gasped. His eyes wide open as his face suddenly turned into a similar shade of red to Y/N.

“Hello.” Y/N begun speaking. He wanted to introduce himself but his voice failed him. Throat and lips dry out of nervousness.

“Y/N?” he spoke with a deep, soothing voice and Y/N had to admit he liked hearing his name coming out of his mouth.

Wait that handsome stranger knew him?

That’s when it hit him. But that can’t be! That was impossible, he would have recognized him immediately!

“Oh. Eret?”

Y/N put his hand against his mouth trying to hide the smile and blush. Why was he feeling like this? Why wasn’t his typical white anger returning? He still had that fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach but something felt different. Maybe it was the maturity from the years or maybe he just imagined it.

Eret was madly blushing and just staring at Y/N as he slowly lifted up his trembling hand “Let’s talk. Would you care for a dance?”

That feeling in his stomach increased as well as the beating of his heart and yet Y/N put his hand into that of Eret’s. Together they walked towards the middle of the room. Slowly beginning to dance.

Y/N was at this point biting his lip. He wanted to talk, say anything but his mind was running in overdrive. No proper sentences would form. Luckily some sort of muscle memory jumped in when it came to the dancing but everything else? No, he was completely screwed.

Why now? Why was he reacting like this?

“You look like you are doing well.” Eret suddenly spoke. His voice trembling almost as much as his hands.

Y/N nodded as he continued moving in tandem with Eret. Their feet skillfully moving around on the dance floor.

“You look good, uh, I mean, you look alright as well, you do look good but I mean you seem to be doing good as well.” After Y/N stammered that out he mentally begun cursing himself out.

He used to wrestle Eret into the mud, why is this happening to him? Why can’t he just go back to his anger, that was easier to deal with. Wait, is that the reason why their anger towards each other held on for so long? Sure, their families had always a rivalry but over time something must have subtly changed concerning their relationship that it managed to end up like this.

Y/N felt like a lovesick pre-teen and he hated it.

Eret suddenly let out a short laugh “I’m guessing you didn’t expect this as well?”

Y/N raised his eyebrows “I- I have no idea what you mean. Like, seriously, what exactly of this do you mean?” Of course his nervousness showed itself via him ranting his thoughts off.

“Us meeting like this again.”

“Seeing our past track record I feel like it was inevitable, though this time it certainly does feel different.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Eret smirked and gave Y/N a wink only to end up turning back into a blushing mess himself.

Now Y/N begun to chuckle, his blush ever present on his face, he pressed his forehead against Eret’s shoulder. Trying his best to hide his face from his view, not willing to give Eret the satisfaction that he succeeded in whatever the hell he just did.

Instead of stopping the two continued to dutifully dance. The best way for a private conversation was while dancing after all but the two were too busy snickering at themselves.

While Y/N had his head still pressed against Eret, Eret spoke up “I’m glad you are here, Y/N. Meeting you here like that again after these years, it made me realize something.”

“Like what?” The same was true of him, of course but he was almost scared of saying it out loud.

Y/N looked back up again but Eret hesitated. His eyes landed on Y/N’s lips only to immediately snap back up to his eyes.

So when he asked “May I?” Y/N knew exactly what he meant.

He gave him a nod which resulted in the two stopping to dance. Eret placed one of his hands against Y/N’s jawline and the other continued to rest at his side as he closed the space between their lips. At first softly brushing their lips for a small second but then Eret went back in pressing his lips properly on Y/N’s only to separate after a few moments.

Y/N put his hands on Eret’s chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart beneath his fingertips “I thought you hated me.” He noted smugly.

Eret laughed “I guess we both were wrong in some way.” He immediately dove back into Y/N’s lips, deepening the kiss, ignoring the confused and surprised noises from all the other guests.

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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years ago

Text

The After Math Of Their First Time.

Now in the after math we have an even more confused Armando. While Betty has had yet another dream of hers become a reality.

As I mentioned in my previous post regarding this night(Forgive Me Post) when Armando goes to drop off Betty he brings up the fact that it wasn't Betty's first time(he wasn't her first) he asks her: Beatriz , who were you with before[me]? when she stays silent and worries her mouth Armando's demeanor changes.

"There was another man in your life, right?" She stopped making eye contact with him before he asked this question and nods while swallowing hard, briefly makes eye contact and tells him:

"Yes Sir. There was someone. I had a relationship before[you]."

"Nicolas Mora?" Armando says not missing a beat nor a second. His lips sit in a tight line while he examines Betty.

"No." She says in a low voice, swallows hard and shakes her head. Since her behavior and mannerisms all go in hand with what she's saying; Armando who is a man who is good at manipulating people based on body language(not as good as Mario though) believes her. He stops staring at her, turns to look in front of him and looks to take a breath of relief. "It was somebody else but I don't like talking about that." He turns to stare at her.

"No, I don't want to make you uncomfortable either." He seems more relaxed here than he did seconds ago "Let's not talk about it anymore."

I briefly touched on the subject in the last post that Armando was jealous in this scene, however, what type of jealousy? I would like to expand on this here.

(If you haven't yet; read post Nicolas Mora Is Better Than You before you continue reading this post.)

Jealousy is a bunch of feelings summed into one: Insecurity, inadequacy, resentment, hopelessness, and/or disgust.

While Armando does feel possessive of Betty as an object, harbors feelings of animosity against Nicolas he also is jealous of not only Betty(and her "relationship" w Nic) but Nicolas. He is extremely jealous of him and not only because he is a threat in an economic level or even a romantic level but because he is a threat in all aspects.

To really understand this lets ignore what I said in the previous post about how Armando isn't the one that is actively in Betty's personal life and how he only gets glimpse of it or how Don Hermes approves of Nicolas.

Lets completely ignore that Nicolas is in Terra Moda, Betty is the owner of Eco Moda and working for Armando.

Let's pretend that Betty and Armando met one day and they established a friendship of sorts. Maybe they shopped at the same grocery store, maybe Armando and her interacted when she worked at the banks(bc she never got fired) and from there formed a friendship of sorts.

Though things were always impersonal, Betty had a small crush on Armando who went to the bank on a regular biases where they talked about money blah blah blah and Armando slowly started to wonder about Betty and her personal life and one day Armando finds out Betty has a boyfriend.

He finds out when he goes to the bank by overhearing Betty talking with a work friend about it(in this scenario we'll also be forgetting that he is extremely obsessed with perfection) and he asks her about it once their meeting is over and she tells him she doesn't have one but he ponders about this on his own and becomes paranoid about his feelings and investigates who Nicolas is by asking said work friend of Betty's about Nicolas.

He finds out Nicolas is a man desired my many women, who is relatively economically comfortable, is extremely smart and that Betty's dad, who hates everyone, approves of him and that they see each other mostly every single day and that he's always around and that she's stupidly in love with him and that Nicolas, even though he's a good looking man and who has women fawning and crazy about him is also interested in Betty so he isn't a superficial man and cares about the substance of people which means Betty is really exquisite, but that they aren't actually dating because he hasn't made a move on Betty(I combined what Mario, Bertha, and Mariana said).

What Armando knows of his feelings is that he looks forward to seeing Betty when he goes to the bank because she's always so kind and accommodating to him and communicative as well and that she's always personally helping him so they are constantly communicating and he looks forward to it. He knows that Betty is a smart woman and that she also has really wonderful qualities that he likes and because she's also so unconditional with him he thought maybe Betty liked him, that it made sense she'd be like that towards him and that it made him feel special but now he finds out that somebody else has Betty's heart.

So he decides to ask her out and they embark into this affair of sorts(We're also ignoring the sinister plan). However while he is still curious and wondering about how Betty's personal life is and how her inner world is, Betty hasn't welcomed him into it yet. Better yet Betty keeps him at arms length and though he has been somewhat honest and invited her into his personal life he still stands on the outside meanwhile Nicolas remains on the inside and he isn't leaving any time soon.

Armando begins to resent that Betty isn't letting him in while he has let her in, he begins to resent Nicolas for taking Betty away from him one way or another. He feels that he isn't as important or as special as he thought he was and this makes him insecure as a person. He begins to feel inadequate, for the first time in his life, in the romantic front.

So this night after Betty and him have finally taken their relationship to the next step he angrily asks her if Nicolas was her first.

Why do I bring this make believe up?

We're so clouded by the past actions and who Armando is in the core of it all and his complexities that I'm neglecting this important fact. Armando doesn't just view Nicolas as competition, he feels inadequate next to Nicolas and as he told Betty, he imagined and thought he'd be her first(it most likely is also that he thought no man would have slept with Betty up until he did).

It's why he repeatedly told Mario that he couldn't do that to her. He wasn't talking about not being able to physically make himself have sex with her because she's "ugly". He was talking about the morality of it. That he couldn't take something so valuable from Betty with deception, that he couldn't be the man that she gave her first experience to when he didn't love her because he knew how it would impact her, how it would hurt her when he ended the relationship and he couldn't bring himself to do that to her(however like I already pointed out, while Betty was being vulnerable Armando began to fall in love and that's what made him want to sleep with her).

So when they finally do sleep together Armando is disappointed that he isn't her first time and when he asks her about it and she confirms it, he now fears that Nicolas was her first time. He fears that Betty gave herself, her first experience to him because it means that Nicolas managed to figure his feelings out before him, that Nicolas was better than him both morally and as a man.

He wants to be part of Betty's personal life. He desires to be in her inner circle. We see this when he hears Don Hermes express himself about Nicolas. When he knows that Nicolas has dinner with her family, that he spends time inside her house. He knows what Don Hermes thinks of him[Armando] because he heard him say he'd fight him the night he hid behind their couch(Brutas! La Policía! post). It isn't just that Nicolas could be better than him now, it's Nicolas could be the one to possess something so intimate of Betty's now.

So when Betty explains that Nicolas wasn't her first time all of a sudden the resentment leaves him and he agrees to not talk about it. However Betty's behavior leaves him a lot more curious. Now this confession of Betty's leaves him picado. I imagine that he probably ponders about her first time wonders why she was so off by it, why she doesn't like talking about it. He wonders about the relationship she had before him and who that man was and how it ended. He probably wonders if Nicolas knows about it and again how Nicolas manages to hold something he desperately wants: her trust.

He respects her desire to not want to speak about it and they say goodnight.

I already talked about the argument Marcela and Armando have when he gets to the apartment in the last post but since that post was so rushed and I was like twelve hours in writing that post I just half-baked it so I'll try to briefly, but in-depth, break it down.

As Armando enters his apartment, like a guilt-free man, he plays with his dog(I'mma call this lost soldier GBNF (Gone But Not Forgotten)) and pets him, we hear Betty's monologue.

I've touched on this in previous post, specifically the Tonight A Dream Of Mine Has Come True, the way that scene and this scene are presented is to show us that what we hear Betty saying is what Armando is thinking, I explained it in detail in that post so if you haven't read it, I recommend you do :)

While Betty says "He told me that he loved me but he also proved it to me with actions." we see Armando pondering over this as he stops interacting with GBNF probably telling himself 'I told her I loved her and this time seggs was different, I was different... could I love her? Nah it's probably not that.' except that instead of being able to go into his room to mediate on the night and its events he finds Marcela on his bed.

[I talked about the parallels in my rant post and the Forgive Me post]

While Marcela is mad and Armando is pretending to care that she is and trying to defend himself he behaves towards her very differently here. The day Betty tried a new look Armando told Mario that the only thing that keeps him with Marcela, at least the only good thing about their relationship, was the seggs and that he was satisfied with it, it's why he always gave into her manipulation because even if he wasn't in the mood, even if he told her no, even when he did so out of guilt and responsibility he still got off and at least that was worth it(that's like actually really sad. He needs a therapist for another reason now, bb get you some support and help). As we know this time he plain out rejects her and doesn't allow for her to manipulate him and when she tries to he turns her down.

Marcela throws it in his face that she had been calling him but he hadn't answered the phone since they last spoke and Armando goes on to angrily explain that next time they won't agree to speak until the next day and that he'll constantly call her and report himself so she can control him like a little kid, that every five minutes he can remind her who he is and he looks so pissed and done, like emotionally just frustrated with this argument.

Yes we know Marcela has a reason to not trust him but she feeds the cycle of her own as well. It would be so easy for her to remove herself from the situation/relationship but the problem here isn't that Armando cheats and gaslights her, the problem here is that Marcela doesn't want to let go of him. She feels entitled to him and because of this entitlement she completes the circle of hell. Again I'm not saying that Armando is innocent, he's not, he's a cheating scumbag, but she knew this before they got engaged, like she knew what she was getting herself into and she still wanted in and when they got engaged she felt entitled to all of him(I talk about this in like mostly every post, for once I'd like to write something good about her lol).

Marcela then stops arguing, you can tell she feels guilty for it and reaches out to him, placing her hands on his shoulders but he moves and pulls her hands from him and steps away from her and lays on his bed while Marcela gets on her knees, beside his bed and explains that she was only worried about him, that she thought something bad had happened to him.

Unlike with Betty, who asked him if he felt ill because of the drinks, who had her arms around him(though sometimes he looked like he wanted to take them off of him) when she asked him this and he said he was fine or maybe the drinks were affecting him, Betty told him she'd make him feel better, he asked her how, she said with her kisses and bam consenting make-out town.

The parallel of this is Marcela expressing "worry" about Armando, who tells her he's fine.

"I just want to go to the bathroom wash up, get in my pijamas, and go to bed."

"No, I can't wait that long." She says and starts to kiss him and undress him but he tells her:

"Marcela, Please." he pleas.

"It doesn't matter , you're fine as you are, please." She begs him in a I guess seductive way?

However Armando has barely touched her, when she neared him he kept his hands up in the air, only has one hand on her back as if trying to pull her from him. He then stares at her, with a cold stare of rejection(I think he's thinking to himself 'did she not hear me? I said no. I said no!') and Marcela reacts offended.

"What's your problem? Do you not want to be with me? Do you want me to leave?" She asks with an angry tone and arms folded in front of her. Armando now stares at her with fear.

Which is different from when Betty asked him if he wanted to no longer be with her and go to Marcela's apartment. When she asked him if he was feeling bad, and if he wanted to drop her off home. Armando explained to her it wasn't that but it was just getting late, however at the club he not only accepted her advances but he also encouraged them(Forgive Me Post). Not only that when Armando rejected her advance inside the hotel room, Betty respected his no.

"I'm tired." He says after trying to find an excuse. His tone of voice shows fear as he talks as if he were out of breath and though he has told her this excuse before, he hadn't given her this stare of determination. He wasn't even going to give her wiggle room and when she notices this she stands up and tells him that that had never stopped him before(yeah cause you manipulated him and pushed his boundaries).

Armando doesn't allow her questioning of his manhood to keep him from staying faithful to Betty. Instead, unlike before when he just basically gave up and let Marcela convince him otherwise, he tells her that tonight it would be an impediment for him but this whole time he looks fearful and nervous.

Now the next day Betty arrived to Eco Moda with contentment and excited to see Armando(dude Wilson is always so sweet to Betty(lets ignore the first couple of ep)).

Betty saw Marcela and Armando arriving together, which we know what that implies to Betty.

So once inside of Eco Moda, after Armando told her they needed to talk, as Betty is going towards their office she sees the personification of her guilty conscious in the shape of Marcela.

What Marcela is saying to her is what Betty is telling herself, while she also tries to justify what they did. When Marcela says that last night when he was done with her she went and made love to her[Marcela] and that it could be that he is playing Betty or her but maybe them both but that she[Marcela] is the one that Armando is going to end up with.

This speaks on Betty's fears.

When she enters their office Armando is waiting for her. He starts off explaining that he knew he had told her that he'd go to his apartment and spent the night by himself but Betty interrupts him by saying: "Nonono Sir. I told you I respect that relationship, I get it." (She sure do have a funny way of showing "respect" for that relationship.

Armando then goes on to clarify that nothing happened, basically that he was truthfully only with her and that he stayed faithful to her.

But Betty tells him that he doesn't need to explain things. Armando then begs her to allow him to explain things to her. Why does he beg her?

In a past post I explained how to Armando it was so important to be able to trust Betty and to know that she didn't lie to him(Betty, My Betty! Part 2.5 post.) but ever since the night that he fought Roman and Co. things have begun to change. Armando has become a bit more attentive and in tune with Betty's needs, desires, and feelings and after last night, it is more evident here that he needs her to know that he was impecable, that he didn't lie to her or hurt her. He needed her to know that he was truthfully only with her and that he wouldn't touch Marcela or another woman after being with her because she was special to him and their first time meant a lot to him as well. He needs her trust him and believe in him.

So he begins to explain things to her, being honest and albeit dramatic(he always is when he's retelling events).

Now for the last scene of this post lets make a deep dive to Mario and Armando's conversation/ Aura Maria and Betty's conversation.

I won't really breakdown the dialogue here, instead I'll breakdown the tone and behavior from Armando and Mario.

After Mario begs him to tell him about the night Armando calls him a vieja chismosa (A woman who likes gossip) and they go off to the meeting room.

A reluctant Armando tells him he did sleep with Betty. He is stiff the entire time as he talks to Mario, showing that he is uncomfortable sharing this with him and that he doesn't, on a very different level, want to share the intimacy he shared with Betty, but he'll only share a bit of it to get him off his back and to also be able to process what happened and how he feels about it.

As Mario says that he can imagine the concentration and imagination that Armando had to have had to be able to sleep with Betty, Armando, sitting still holding his hands(showing he is trying to comfort himself or is angry, looking at the context clues the serious expression, his tone of voice and how he seems to be refraining himself it is anger what he is feeling.) grits his teeth and clenches his jaw.

He isn't only uncomfortable talking to Mario about this but he is angry at him for what he is saying and insinuating. He tries to end the conversation when Mario jokes, telling him that he answered his question, however Mario asks him how it affected him and Armando tries to explain why it affected him to begin with.

In short words Armando tells him that Betty isn't just another woman he slept(one of his models or occasional friend) with but that she is an important woman to him and because of that reason last night was important to him.

"I made love with a woman who is in love, who is truthfully in love." He says this with a tender tone, something that holds importance to him, that makes him happy, that sweetens his life. In other words something that makes him soft but also the realization of Betty's love for him and how true it is. "This doesn't welcome any jokes." He says and angrily tells Mario "So don't expect for me to act like nothing happened. Of course it affects me, my skin isn't made of iron." In another post(Tonight A Dream Of Mine Has Come True and La Arrogancia De La Niña) I explained how Armando doesn't feel comfortable when the subject revolves around Betty as a person so when Mario makes jokes and Armando tries to defend why he feels the way he does and explain himself, as well as try to understand how he feels he stops being so reluctant in the conversation but as soon as Mario starts making jokes again he stops, gets angry and shuts off.

"Okay, one second, you're telling me that you're feeling something for Betty?" Armando looks at him with furrowed eyebrows and concerned eyes and he swallows hard. One could simply assume that he is confused or even simply worried but it goes more than that. This is the exact same expression he had when Marcela was reading that poem(Don't Yell At Her! Don't You Yell At Her! post) he is anguished to tell this to Mario, to be that vulnerable with him but also, that he is worried that he has feelings for her and the implications of said feelings.

Lets rewind a few steps and look at the journey of Armando's feelings so far.

1: He begins to take notice of Betty as a loyal employee

2: He begins to blur the lines of impersonal to personal.

3: He starts to change towards the way he treats her as her boss because he cares about how Betty feels working for him(Which he didn't care about that with the rest).

4: he makes her his confidant in all aspects of his life.

5: he entrust her with his entire livelihood(trust her like no other)

6: he begins to get curious about her personal life.

7: he is forced to face the reality of why he is so "special" to her. AKA the revelation that Betty "has" a boyfriend.

8: He drunkenly confesses his feelings to Betty.

9: he soberly confesses his feelings to Betty.

10: he lives under denial of said feelings but his subconscious is stronger than he is.

11: each night he spends with Betty his emotional attraction grows until it becomes physical attraction(Which he denies).

12: He has had to learn to notice and place Betty's needs, desires, and feelings before his own and enjoys doing so.

13: he is forced to once again face his feelings of attraction towards Betty the night before.

So again, Armando does what he does best, deny.

Due to his obsession with perfection, need to control everything, and his own personal conversations that he has within himself(Why couldn't we get those? I gotta be connecting the dots here a lot) this new revelation is a hard one to swallow. Armando has never been in love and he always thought he'd fall in love with a woman that looks like Marcela, Adriana Arboleda, etc. However now it is possible that he's in love, for the first time ever or at least beginning to fall in love, with Betty, the "ugly" assistant he has, who he knows his best friend would crucify if he found out about his true feelings so Armando, pained by this, denies it and it does pain him to deny these feelings from himself which is why we get this reaction.

To throw Mario off his scent he tells him he feels remorse, and that's it(Have y'all seen that John Mulaney special where he says that when he was a kid this police officer told him to throw his wallet across the street to make robbers run the other direction to throw them off his scent so he could escape? Basically same here).

Next Aura Maria and Betty start to talk. Betty expresses her happiness and how she would have never imagined that it would be like that(she really sticking to her five star review on yelp).

In the room over Armando is telling Mario the retelling of the events the previous night. He tells him that he wasn't capable of physically having sex with Betty when she came out of the bathroom and that of course, she picked up on it and told him she understood, that she knew no man could desire her.

So did Armando sleep with Betty out of pity? Out of compassion?

When we look at the context of previous scenes the short answer is no.

The long answer is this so sit tight. That night Armando did something he'd never done before, be intimate with a woman. Betty was extremely vulnerable with him this night. She gave more of herself to him than in the physical sense. She let him in, she welcomed him into her inner dilema and fears. She moved him, deeply moved him. She gave him something he desired more than sex. She gave him her intimacy.

When he is retelling what happened, especially when it gets to the physicality, he looks up, as if reliving the moment visually in his memory. His expression is of peace and joy. He is not disgusted with the mental image he has, in fact he is pleased with it.

Mario is staring at him the entire time with eyebrows raised, wide eyes and a slight frown. Since Armando isn't staring at him(he's savoring his memory) he doesn't notice this but as soon as he stares at him Mario stops and convers his mouth. He then congratulates him and tells him that so far things sounded like they went well and he asks for more.

In the post Tonight A Dream Of Mine Has Come True I explained the comfort Mario has at asking these sorts of questions implying that both Mario and Armando don't hold back in being explicit when they talk about their conquests and one night stands so here he expects nothing less. He expects for Armando to tell him everything about Betty and what they did. He expects a word for word replay of the night but like the times before when it comes to subjects such as these, Armando shuts it down(finally a gentleman).

Mario pesters, asking who he used as a mental image, who he imagined instead of Betty.

"No inspiration used. Last night I made love to Beatriz Pinzon Solano." Armando says starting at Mario, who looks away from him, closes his eyes and convers his mouth. Armando looks down at his hand , which he's been fidgeting with, with a frown on his lips.

Armando is lying to Mario, not about who he slept with the previous night, but about his feelings and it upsets him that he can't talk this through or talk to his best friend about his feelings because he knows that Mario will just make fun of him for it. This is where we begin to see this change in Armando take shape, while before it was blurry and almost unnoticeable now it is becoming focused and recognizable.

Armando does want to talk about his feelings and he does want to understand them to some degree. Almost like there's this yearning and screaming inside of him to understand what he feels for Betty, especially after the confession he made to Betty and not only how he felt about the whole experience but because he knows, he freaking knows he treated Betty differently than any other woman before her and the fact that he didn't even desire nor want to be touched by Marcela as well disturbes him but he has no safe space or place to be able to talk about said feelings so the best thing he can do is run away from them but unlike before, this upsets him.

It's like denying himself from something he needs.

When Mario once more tries to pry any details of Betty's body Armando gets upset and tells him he doesn't understand how he managed to do that, that it was just something that came out of nowhere. Mario then asks if what is disturbing him is that fact or what it could be he feels something, but Armando tells him that he just feels guilty for it all and his conscious is killing him.

While yes this is true, he doesn't like deceiving Betty, deep down he is actually aware now that he does care for Betty and that he was both emotionally and physically satisfied with Betty. Armando is actually welcoming the understanding of his feelings while before he lived in denial of them and avoiding them, now he wants to understand them but he knows he can't do that with his best friend so he once more, like before, shuts down and gets mad at Mario.

While Betty tells Aura Maria that her boyfriend told her he loved her for the first time, Aura Maria tells her that saying it and proving it are two different things but an overjoyed Betty tells her that he not only told her he loved her but that showed it to her because he was really special and she had never imagined it would have been like that.

Both The Pervert and Aura ask the same question "Tell me how was it?"

Mario throws out synonymous for the words "hot seggs" he is wanting to know what woman was under those clothes that made him feel the way he did, Mario is strictly physical and that's it and while Armando to some point was the same, he knew that Armando also desired a stable and good relationship and to fall in love, as Armando himself told him that.

So Armando tells him she was none of that and that seggs with her was none of that.

"So then?"

"It was like..." He stops to think, looking for the right word when he finds it he smiles, again as if remembering it fondly, "sweet."

"What?" Mario murmurs. "Sweet?" he says in a disbelief tone and low voice. "A-Armando look me in the eyes." Armando does so. "It was really sweet?"

Armando pulls away from the wall he had been leaning and shifts to face him, leaning against said wall again, and after taking a deep breath begins to explain.

"Calderon, that woman is in love with me. What? did you expect for it to not be? It had to be sweet, so yes, sweet." He says explaining. His eyes brows are middle raised, slightly squinting his eyes but his features are soft, he leans against the wall while with one hand he moves in the air to explain things with the other he has it in his pocket. This indicates, roughly, an anxious attitude as well as not wanting to talk more about the subject and that he's upset to continue talking about it.

"I get that she's in love with you but were you really sweet to her too?" Armando, who turned away from him is once more leaning hard against the blinds of the window, arms folded in front of him and eyebrows middle lowers, indicating frustration.

"He was really sweet, Aura Maria. I didn't expect him to be like that. That's why I'm saying that I think he really does love me." She smiles. Aura Maria celebrates with her.

"Okayokay. So it was really sweet for the both of you." Mario raises his arms up in a "I'm innocent." manor.

"Mhm"

"Armando, you're worrying me." He places his hands inside his pockets. Armando is staring elsewhere, worrying his bottom lip with eyebrows middle lowered(almost close together) since he looks somewhat zoned out we can assume that he is in deep thought. "What happened. Talk to me." Armando turns to look at him and defeated lets out a sigh, closes his eyes and goes to sit down and starts to talk.

"I don't know, I have to clear myself. I'm going to try and be as clear as possible with you. Lets see, I-no-best said lets separate two things. One thing is that is ugly, right?(he confused about it now? I'm just joking)." Mario agrees. "And another thing would be that I hate Betty, I don't hate Betty." This time his eyebrows are pulled closer together with really squinted eyes. He is really evaluating his feelings here and making the effort to understand them. "All the contrary, I have an immense endearment for her. She is a very important woman in my life."

(ENGLISH GET A WORD EQUIVALENT TO QUIERO/QUIERE!)

"You cherish her?"(it's the best word I could find to translate this, English is so tragic tbh.)

"Of course." Armando admits, he has a look of relief washed away with panic and now he begins to deny, freaked out by his own emotions he tries to justify his feelings for something they're not. "Of course I cherish her. I cherish her-" he places a finger on his philtrum: anxiousness and hesitant to speak. "like you cherish Sara, your secretary. Yes like my dad cherish Susana his secretary. I-I think that one in life...cherishes a lot of people and the relationship that Betty and I have established is a relationship of..." He starts to fidget with his fingers worrying his bottom lip and staring off at something on the table. "of friends." he stares at Mario and with his hand, open, explains to him. "We're friends and we cherish each other a lot. Man, I start to think and Betty is a person who has always been unconditional with me, who has always been there when I've needed her. She's a person who has saved my life, who risks her life for me every day she's a person( I don't want to use the word love but English you suck so I gotta) I love a lot(he means platonically)" Mario stares at him with raised eyebrows, wide eyes and a frown. "Tell me, why wouldn't I feel that for her? Why shouldn't I feel endearment for her?"

"No, no of course. Why not?" Mario reacts slow. He is trying to "Respect" Armando's feelings even though he wants to make fun of him for it but he knows if he does that Armando will stop talking about how he feels, therefore, stop giving him intel. "Why not? It's just this is the first time I hear you say you love her."

"Because I wasn't aware of this until now!" Armando says frustrated. "Until now that I'm faci...facing Betty." He slightly furrows his brows and stares elsewhere with a shocked expression of revelation. He takes in a deep breath and places a finger in front of his lips, thinking this through. "Calderon, cherishing Betty isn't a crime, bro." Notice his tone of voice as he confesses this final part is full of emotion. This fear that he had been carrying within himself for days, weeks or even months, that he cared about Betty deeply cares but was afraid to admit this to himself much less out loud until now, he finally admits it, he finally says it out loud because he is in a desperate need to understand how he feels about her and he accepts it. He accepts that this is how he feels and that it isn't wrong for him to feel like this because she deserves it.

Armando then goes on to say that what they are doing to her is a crime. To do that to his partner in crime, who loves him and dreams of him twenty four seven and that is what is killing him.

"It should be killing you if you did it with repulsiveness but no, you did so, sweetly. Sweetie pie." he sings at the end. Armando now looks at him in disbelief and anger.

"Then how would I have done it? She's in love, how was I going to do it then?"

Mario is now out of his element, unlike in previous scenes, this time Mario is not in control of Armando so he reacts irrationally.

"Yes but you've slept with Marcela who is in love with you and so far from what I understand the hook-ups aren't so sweet." he smiles, thinking he's found footing in the situation and a way to gain control of it.

"Ah don't talk to me about Marcela now." He stands up, annoyed. "Lets not talk about that woman. Let's change topic, yeah? Last night." He slaps the chair. "When I got to my apartment she was waiting for me." He says so annoyed, again.

"No?" Mario asks "surprised".

Skip the scene with Marcela and Patsy Pats; Betty and Aura Maria are still talking in her office.

Aura Maria is telling her that now that they've slept together that she can't stop doing it and blah blah blah I'm only mentioning it because it's funny when Armando walks into the conversation and now it's him he gets a taste of jealousy like Betty did that morning when she saw Armando and Marcela getting out of his car.

The fact Armando believes this is really about Nicolas is funny but also believable. For one, as I pointed out, Armando feels insecure when it comes to Betty and Nicolas, especially now after they've sinned, fornicated if you will, no wait adulatory because he's "committed" to Marcela. Two because he knows that Nicolas spends time with Betty at her house so when Aura Maria tells her to take advantage of the moments her parents aren't looking or when he goes to the bathroom to sneak in there with him and y'know, sha-bang.

Armando rubs his hand with his thumb, indicating anxiety, however he tries to keep his composure and if y'all haven't notice Armando now isn't speaking so harshly to Betty. He is keeping the same tone he has with her whenever he is being vulnerable. As Armando leaves Betty's office after telling her that he needed some paper work, he shuts the door hard, expressing his anger as well.

Once Aura leaves and Betty goes into Armando's office, Armando throws his jealousy fit, but unlike before when he'd yell at her and question her dedication, her loyalty, her love, this time he tells her that she can do what she wants, that Nicolas belonged to her personal and intimate life(again, showing resentment for that), when Betty tries to explain what happened Armando tries to cut her off, eventually she does though. This is similar to earlier that morning.

We then see the power dynamic here, once more Armando is the one that holds the cards and Betty is supposed to do what he says, which isn't a partnership.

[THE LETTER! WHAT WAS IN THE STUPID LETTER BETTY!]

I think those the next scenes[next few episodes] are pretty self-explanatory. Armando completely forgets about the picture he has of AA in his pocket and he makes out with Betty and Betty accepts to not break up while Armando that once the big meeting is over that he'll break up with Marcela and they'll become official, now he has to learn to accept the idea that he has to learn to accept as an idea(So confusing, I know lol) of a potential future where he is open about his relationship with Betty.

The next post I'll write is one I'm really looking forward to; AA shows up to Eco Moda and my all time favorite scene that brings and ties together this theory that Armando has thought about, for a long time, about his feelings for Betty and what it means to him, AKA the night of the museum.

'Til then :)

#armando ysblf #analysis of ysblf #don armando #armando mendoza #beatriz pinzon solano #betty ysblf #betty pinzón solano #yo soy betty la fea #beatriz pinzón solano #betty la fea #betty #marcela ysblf #marcela valencia #morch #mario calderón #mario calderon #nicolas mora

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animepopheart · 4 years ago

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Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)

Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.

The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.

This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.

Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.

It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.

The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.

The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.

Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.

My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:

“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’

Silence.

‘Yes?’

The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”

Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.

Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?

But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.

Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.

And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.

But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.

When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.

You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.

The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.

That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.

If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.

Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.

Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.

#wonder egg priority #rika kawai #wep #pmmm #Christianity #tw cutting #blog

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 4 years ago

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What happened w the rationalist community, if you’re ok talking about it?

LONG REPLY TIME.

In my Wild Youth (tm) I was hardcore in the rationalist/skeptic/humanist community. You know, the New Atheist types (the vast majority of the community didn’t call themselves New Atheists, that was mostly American Dawkins fans, but we were those kinds of people, just less arrogant-PR about it). For people who don’t know, the core philosophy of this subculture basically comes down to: - humans are mostly good people, or try to be good people, and we should act in ways that are good for humanity, the environment, etc. - people with better or more accurate information about the world are capable of making better decisions - it is therefore vitally important that we view the world as accurately as possible. Truth is inherently important and valuable. We should do everything we can to make sure that our beliefs about the world are as accurate as possible. - your mind will lie to you. Cognitive biases have their social and evolutionary uses, but they result in bigotry and bad information. We should do everything we can to identify and compensate for these, and think as rationally as a human is capable of. - while it’s not perfect, science is the most effective tool we have for determining what is most likely to be true. Rationalism is therefore massively pro-science and pro-science education. (This isn’t a blind trust; most hardcore rationalists are scientists and fully aware of the limitations of the messy reality of how science is funded and published and the biases that introduces. These are taken into account. The other hardcore rationalists tend to be magicians/illusionists.)

All of this is perfectly fine and a hill I’m still perfectly willing to die on.

When you get a bunch of people together who are sincerely seeking truth and want the world to be a better place, there are some fairly obvious groups that they’re going to tangle with. Before my time, when we were just called skeptics, the main targets had been psychics and life-after-death spirit-communing con artists (this is where our magicians came from, the philosophical descendants of Houdini, one of the earliest voices in the movement, and later James Randi). But the big proponents of harm in my time were the healing crystals/essential oils/faith healing people, and the ‘Creation should be taught instead of evolution’ creationists. We spent a lot of time trying to stop people from selling oils that they said could cure cancer, and fighting against science education being replaced with religious belief inserted in science classes. (I spent a lot of my teenage years debating creationists on the internet. I can summarise this experience as a frustrating waste of time on both sides of the debate. Neither side was going to accomplish anything in these discussions.)

This is all perfectly fine. I won’t pretend I’m completely happy with everyone’s actions; it’s the internet, so of course there were subgroups doing things like mass trolling conservative religion forums and stuff, which had no purpose except to piss off people we happened not to like, but you get that. The problem with this is that it’s easy. People can believe what they want, but if you’re coming into a rational debate, every pro-Creation, anti-evolution argument is complete and utter bullshit, mostly demonstrating nothing beyond the fact that the creationist debater a) doesn’t understand the most fundamental things about biology or b) does understand and is willingly misleading the audience. Every pro healing crystal, pro astrology or pro telepathy argument is fatuous nonsense. Twelve-year-olds could walk into these discussions and completely shred every argument put forth by big-name “creation scientists” in minutes -- I know, I watched it happen regularly. I was on our conservative creationist Christian-owned community TV station for awhile doing a little ‘creation vs evolution!’ debate against the wealthy station owner’s son to fill air time, and I’d see him do a couple of hours of research for anti-evolution arguments every time we filmed, and it always pissed him off that I’d shred anything he said immediately, having done no research whatsoever, because even to me, a child, the giant drive-a-bus-through-this holes in his arguments were obvious. (Also, they were old hash; I’d read all the books by his idols before and checked the reasoning myself long before.)

Fresh voices in the community came from two main sources -- people who’d been pro-people and pro-reason/science for years finding others like them, and ex-creationists and magic healer victims who’d eventually found the holes in what they’d been taught. This second group, for obvious reasons, tended to be the most passionately pro-reason and pro-science people, and discussing different experiences in a place where people could feel safe being critical and actively celebrate doubt was great. But, inevitably, we got lazy.

A lot of the ‘laziness’ was perfectly reasonable and practical. Time and attention is always limited, and when you’ve dealt with six claims of “the eye is too complex to have evolved!” and explained the flaws in the irreducible complexity argument four times that fortnight, when someone walks in with “blood groups couldn’t possibly have evolved, therefore the earth must be 6,000 years old”, you just don’t fucking bother, and you shouldn’t fucking bother, there’s no value in that discussion.

That’s not the kind of laziness I’m talking about. I’m talking about the part where we got so used to ‘that sounds so fucking stupid’ leading directly being able to tear an argument to pieces,that it became normal to assume that anything that sounds stupid on the surface MUST be obviously wrong. Where ‘this is weird, let’s examine it and check for flaws’ became ‘that person disagrees with my preconceived notions, let’s double down and explain why they’re wrong, because I’m already assuming that they’re wrong’. At some point, “we want to be as rational and accurate as we can be, we call ourselves rationalist and work towards that” became “we’re rationalists, so we’re more accurate and rational than average and probably right”.

You might recognise that as in fact being *the exact opposite of the proported philosophy*. There were always some overenthusiastic idiots in any group, but watching it slowly become normal for rationalising to replace active rationalism and for the names of cognitive biases to be thrown around as gotcha buzzwords rather than things people were seriously considering in their own arguments was... concerning. (There were a lot of very smart people in the community, which unfortunately made it far more vulnerable to this particular kind of thing. Smarter people are better at fooling themselves; a person good at reason is also good at rationalising, and you can’t tell the difference between these things when you’re the one doing them.)

In practical terms, this doesn’t matter that much when you’re playing in the easy leagues of explaining to someone that the overpriced eucalyptus oil they bought from an MLM won’t protect them against chicken pox. The person who’s gotten lazy is shit at being a rationalist, but your reasoning skills don’t actually need to be all that impressive for this. You know what they do need to be impressive for? For when somebody says, “women are taken less seriously than men in science and biased against in hiring, payment and promotion”, and this hypothetical you, a male scientist who’s never noticed this and already knows that his profession is full of smart and reasonable people who wouldn’t do something stupid like that, thinks “that is fucking stupid” and automatically, without thinking about it, puts their energy into shouting down and dismissing alternate evidence. Or when somebody points out islamophobia in the community, or passive racism, or... you get the picture. Social issues can (and should) be examined and interrogated using rational philosophies, but it’s so much harder to do that than laugh at creationists who are sending you abusive messages about going to hell. And given the particular hot-button issues in the community, most of the people there were interested in biology, chemistry or physics and simply had no idea how to *do* social sciences, treating the parts that were familiar from their own specialities as valid and the rest as irrational nonsense. And now, you have prominent rationalists panicking about Sharia law, sneering at the made-up problems of feminism, and generally making fools of themselves... because they got lazy.

Because, like how it’s hard to be a liberal (American definition) but easy to be a conservative in a gay hat, it’s hard to be a rationalist, but easy to be an arsehole with a big vocabulary. And that’s why I can’t gush about how great Richard Dawkins’ early science books are without somebody bringing up his bullshit twitter opinions.

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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

Text

Different Worlds-Fred Weasley x Muggle! Reader

(GIF credit to @avocadosalad2)

Masterlist

Prompts List

Requested by anonymous: 'Could you do a Fred Weasley after the war imagine (where he doesn’t die) and he falls in love with a muggle'

Summary: (Y/N) may be a muggle, but she was introduced to the hidden magical world once she realised her best friend was a witch. Years later, after they have both graduated, she finds herself drawn towards the magic, as well as a particular person.

Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Lots and lots of fluff

(A/N: Beatrice is a made up character)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As I stirred the milk into the mug of tea, I continued listening to Beatrice babble on about the rude man on the train, who had insisted that she was sat in his seat, when she had clearly reserved it. I smiled, picking up the mugs and heading back into the living room, handing one to her. She blew on it, testing how hot it was before taking a tiny sip.

“But anyway, enough about twats in London.” Bea waved her hand.“I’ve got some exciting news!”

“Yeah? What is it?” I put down my own mug, ready to squeal and jump about with her.

“You know that shop I had my eye on?”

“The one in um...oh what’s it called? Diagonal street?”

She laughed.“Diagon Alley.”

“Ah, right.”

“Anyway, I went for another viewing the other week, and I got a letter through this morning to say that it is now mine!”

I grabbed her hands, squeezing them.“That’s fantastic! Oh my god, you’ve been wanting your own shop since we were kids!”

“I know! I’ve already had new flooring put down, it’s just been painted too. Now all that’s left is to organise how I want the furniture and to put stock out on display.”

Bea had always loved her fashion when she was younger. She would always complain about how basic her uniform was (even pointing out how boring muggle uniform was as well), and always added different accessories or made her own clothes. This hobby carried on, she became a great seamstress (the magic probably helped), knowing that this was something she wanted to do. Now she was opening a clothes shop that would also sell things like accessories, notebooks, pens etc.

“I’m so happy for you.” I hugged her.

“You know, I am going to need help moving in...”

“Wait, you want me to come with you?”

Bea nodded.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“No, don’t be silly! You’re with me, and you’re only visiting. Plus you’ve known about all of this since we were twelve. I haven’t used the Obliviate spell on you, and I’m still not in trouble.”

“Sorry, you haven’t what?”

“Don’t worry about it. So, you want to accompany me to little old Diagon Alley?”

A couple of days later, Beatrice visited me again, leading me out of my little flat and onto the tube. We practically had to go to the other side of London, making me feel bad when she visited me all those times. When we finally got off, and after walking for another ten minutes, we stood in front of an abandoned building stuck between a record and book shop. Glancing at Bea, who was staring at the uninviting building, I wondered what I had got myself into.

“Uh, Bea, we’re not going in there are we?” I asked as she dragged me towards it.

“Just trust me.”

She pushed open the door, which made a worrying creaking noise, and I was scared that if we shut it too hard, the whole place would collapse. However, instead of a dusty room with broken floor boards and bending beams, we seemed to be in a pub. There were a few people already in here, sat at various tables with their drinks. A worker walked past, waving their hand which made some scattered chairs tuck underneath the table. My eyes widened as I watched, realising that I had stepped into a different world. Beatrice laughing at me brought me back into reality as she held onto my hand again.

“Alright Tom?” She called out to the bartender.

“Ah, here once again Beatrice? Oh, this the muggle you were on about?” he replied as he leaned against the bar.

“Yep, this is she. I’m taking her to the shop, which I now own!”

“Ah, congratulations! Head on back then.”

They said their goodbyes and I was being steered away again, this time outside. There was a wall blocking us, and to anyone else it would be a dead end, but I knew something was about to happen. Bea revealed her wand, tapping it around a part of the wall where bricks were missing. Stepping back, my eyes widened as the bricks started moving, separating to reveal a busy street.

“Oh, this is just too precious. Wish I had captured the moment.” Bea said.

I must have stuck out like a sore thumb; I couldn’t shut my mouth, checking out everything around me, eyebrows furrowing as my mind tried to comprehend how this was possible. Men and women passed me in long robes, some sporting the stereotypical witches hats. There were broomsticks, animals such as owls and cats, things floating by me. My brain was well and truly frazzled.

As we came to Bea’s new shop, I was still in awe, my eyes landing on a bright orange shop, with an animatronic of a man who was putting on a top hat. I could see lots of younger children in there. Explosions of light appeared, objects were flying around, I could hear the laughter across the street.

“Kind of hard to miss right?” Bea giggled as she unlocked the shop.

“Yeah. Looks amazing in there.”

“That’s Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. I went to school with the guys who own it. Onto more important matters, after you.”

I walked into the shop, grinning as I looked around. It wasn't huge, but it had a vintage look to it; the floor was a dark wood, and the walls were painted a lighter cream colour to contrast it. Currently it was empty, in one corner were mannequins, display tables and railings to hang the clothes on.

"I've got everything mapped out, I just need to move bits around." Bea said.

"It's going to look great when it's finished. I bet you're so excited to open."

"Are you OK by the way? I just realised how much this must all be."

"I love it here! I'm surrounded by magic, what more could I want?"

We spent the next few hours moving the furniture around, trying out new things to see what worked, where it would be best to display the stock. People passed by the window in large groups, but now there were less, the sun was going down, and shop owners were starting to close up. We followed suit, putting everything back in the corner before leaving the shop.

"Hello neighbour." a man called out across the street.

We turned around, seeing a tall man in a suit outside of the shop I noticed upon arrival.

"Oh, I forgot I would be seeing you every day." Bea groaned, obviously joking.

"You don't have to lie to me, we're one of the reasons you bought the place."

Bea began walking towards him, I followed behind."Fred, this is (Y/N). She's a friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you." he smiled.

"You too." I replied, wishing I didn't sound so quiet.

"Already got your staff sorted then?"

"(Y/N)'s an old friend of mine. I had to show her the shop. And Diagon Alley."

Fred caught on, realising that I wasn't a witch."Oh, right. Welcome to the other side."

"Thanks. It's been amazing so far."

“Well, it couldn’t have been that good, I didn’t see you in our shop today.”

“He’s so humble, isn’t he?” Bea rolled her eyes.“Well, that’s just another reason for her to come tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“I look forward to seeing you then.” Fred casually winked before saying goodbye to us both, realising his name was being called from the shop.

“OK, what just happened?” I gasped, feeling extremely flushed.

“Those Weasley boys are natural flirts. But that was very interesting.”

“There’s more of them?!”

Bea just shook her head, looping her arms through mine as she lead me away from the shop, telling (not asking) me to return with her again tomorrow. I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

With Bea unaware, I had immediately gone to choose an outfit for the next day as soon as I made it home. I just wanted to look a little more presentable, it definitely wasn’t because I wanted to present myself well in front of anyone. Once I had decided on a casual outfit, though something that still showed I had put some effort in, I settled down for the night, lying on the sofa with my dinner. Even with the TV on in the background, I couldn’t concentrate on the programme. It felt strange to be back in my world, not surrounded by magic. I was half expecting objects in my flat to start moving by themselves.

Bea had told me about her being a witch when she received her letter to Hogwarts. I wasn’t supposed to know, especially at a young age, but Beatrice had been so scared to lose our friendship. Her parents were muggles, so where the magic came from was a mystery. I missed her extremely, hating that Hogwarts was a boarding school. But once Bea was old enough to use magic outside of school, she graced me with all the spells she learnt, it was so enchanting to watch. Bea had returned to the muggle world for a few years once she finished her education, but now that her dream of owning a shop was coming true, she wouldn’t be living near me anymore; that’s what was really weighed on my mind.

Bea and I returned to her shop the next morning. I didn’t mention anything of my thoughts from the night before, not wanting to ruin the day. Seeing the other shop owners setting up for the day set a different atmosphere, some who were outside greeted us along the way. Bea got out her keys, but hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“Nothing. I just think we should pay my fellow businessmen a visit.” she said, a wide smile on her face.

“No, cause you’ll just embarrass me!” I whined.

“No I won’t. Honestly, you need to see their shop, it’s bizarre.”

I knew she had a scheme planned, but part of me wanted to go along with it. As we approached, I glanced at my reflection in the window, tucking away any strands of hair that had fallen out of my up-do. Before we could knock on the door, Fred appeared, swinging it wide open.

“Ah, our most loyal customers are here.” He grinned letting us in.

“Good morning George.” Bea waltzed in.

Oh, this was his twin.

“Fred has told me all about you, (Y/N), right?” George extended his hand.

I shook it as I nodded.“Yes, Sorry, I forgot you there were two of you for a moment.”

“Double trouble is what they are.” Bea mumbled.

“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” he exclaimed, presenting grandly with his arm.

Cautiously walking around, I ducked out of the way as a Frisbee flew past me, smiling at what looked like mini fireworks before scrunching my nose up at a box labelled��‘Puking Pastels’. I explored everywhere, going upstairs to search further. The amount of jokes and prank items they had seemed endless. Looking over the railing, I saw Bea chatting away to George. It made me wonder where Fred was, but that question was soon answered.

“Do you come here often?” Fred slid up to me, leaning beside me on the railing.

I chuckled.“Funnily enough, this is my first time here. And did you really just use that line on me?”

“Works every time.” he winked, causing me to look away as I blushed.

“This shop is amazing Fred.” I sighed in content.“Are those really Love Potions down there?”

“Ah, caught your eye?”

“I mean, how could it not? Doesn’t everyone want a love potion to make their lives so much easier?”

“It’s not permanent. Besides, falling in love is the fun part.”

I didn’t question if he had been in love. It was too soon to be asking things such as that.

Fred continued.“Can’t believe Bea waited so long to bring you here. She talks about you all the time.”

“She does?”

“Yep. I probably know more about you than you think.”

My eyes widened jokingly.“I don’t know if that’s good or not.”

“It’s very good, trust me.”

“I don’t think I would ever want to leave now. Couldn’t stop smiling when I was home.”

Fred opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by Bea calling up to us.“Come on you two, it’s my turn now.”

Not knowing what she meant, we headed downstairs, realising that Bea wanted to show the twins her shop. Making our way across the road, Fred and I walked behind the others as they continued talking, even as Bea unlocked the shop.

“I mean, you’ve still got quite a bit of work to do Bea.” George joked as they walked around the empty space.

“I know that. But that’s why I have (Y/N) here to help me.” She smiled at me.

“It’s a good space. You got everything planned?” Fred asked.

“Yeah, we moved the furniture around a few times yesterday, so I’ve got options. And of course I had my wonderful assistant to help.”

“She didn’t even buy me a drink after.” I said.

“I can pay you.”

“What? Don’t be silly.”

“No, I’m serious. Because I need to know if I have to put you on the payroll.”

“Bea, what are you saying?”

She grinned but I could see she was nervous.“How would you like to work here with me?”

My mouth dropped wide open, eyes bulging out of my head. I was shocked, speechless even. Out of the corner of my eye I saw George nudge his brother, smirking at him as Fred looked annoyed.

“Oh, this is making me anxious.” Bea whispered, gripping her hands together despite her happy expression.

“You really want me to work here? But where would I live?”

“With me obviously!”

“Is that allowed?”

“Yes, I checked. Oh (Y/N) please, you always say you’re not happy with your job and that you want to live somewhere nicer.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“OK, but I can tell you’re not entirely happy.”

I took a deep breath as I smiled.“Bea, I would love to work here.” She squealed, running towards me and throwing out her arms, embracing me tightly. I squeezed her back, feeling very emotional. Bea wanted me here. She trusted me to live in this world of hers, she wanted to share her dream with me.

“Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.” George said as Bea and I ended the hug.

“Looks like.” I wiped my eyes, hoping I didn’t look like a sap for crying.

“Right,” Bea put her hands on her hips,“well, we best get on with the day. Catch you boys later?”

They nodded, already making their way out. Bea smiled at me one last time, disappearing into the backroom. As I looked around the space, I noticed Fred still by the door, hesitating to walk out.

“You alright there Fred?” I asked, approaching him.

“Yeah...um,” he closed the door, coming inside again,“so,now that you’re living here, once you’re settled that is....do you fancy going out sometime?”

I was taken back, flustered which caused me to stutter.“Uh, y-yeah, I-I would love to!”

He nodded, pleased with the answer.“Good, it’s a date then.”

I awkwardly waved as he left, watching him enter his own shop. He turned around, seeing me still looking, sending yet another wink my way. He already knew how to embarrass me. Feeling my heart flutter, I slowly turned around, only to see Bea standing there.

“Oh, I am so good at playing Cupid.”

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httphonsool · 4 years ago

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unpleasantly peasant

synopsis; in which king agust d is a backstabbing brother, and he just wants a wife he can control, but min yoongi doesn’t think he likes either of those ideas very much.

word count; 8.4k

time taken; too bloody long

warnings; cutting, blood, people die, heartbreak, angst, sexual activity is mentioned a few times, reader curses out a servant, yeah i think that’s all but please let me know if there’s anything else

notes; this was supposed to be out much earlier, a few months earlier actually, I’ve spent too long on this and I still feel that I could have done better, however I will be writing more often now, my serenity series is on hold for now, I’m writing a spy!jungkook au which I think you guys may be interested in ! Anyway I hope you guys like this, let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see me write.

Seven years ago…

“You’re a bloody bastard, I swear on God,” Min Yoongi spits.

“And you are not the king.”

“But I should be…you were illegitimate, your mother left you at the feet of the throne, she was not married to our father yet you were still born, you have no fucking right!” Yoongi cries, pain evident, sliding his sword out of its sheath and slicing a cut down his brother’s eye.

And all he gets in return is a laugh, right in his face; just before two guards come take hold of Min Yoongi’s arms

“I told you. You are not the king. I make the decisions.”

“The fuck is wrong with you!? I took you in, took care of you, and loved you when no one else did! Even our father rejected you and I still loved you! You were my brother!” Min Yoongi bawls while he struggles to get out of the guards’ grips.

“And that’s why he’s dead. And you’ll be dead soon too. So I’d run if I were you, you’re being given the chance.”

“I hope the woman you wish to marry is the one that stabs you in the back the hardest. Though, I’d be surprised if you are still alive by the time that happens,” and that’s the last thing Min Yoongi is able to spit at his brother before he’s thrown out of his own home.

He doesn’t know when, or how, but he will seek out his revenge.

But right now his name was forgotten in a series of memories a woman would seek to delve in and retain many years later.

Seven years later…

Agust sits on his throne, lazing around, immersing himself in the golden, intoxicating paradise he unrightfully owns, one ear listening to the names of women whom he could marry, the other ear listening to his greed, smiling at the treasure around him.

“Kim Eunha, she…your majesty?” his advisor asks.

“No, tell me something else. I do not want hear about women, why marry one when I can be unmarried and have them all?” Agust chuckles, chuckles turning into full blown laughter. Oh, how obscene King Agust is.

Silence is marred by the filthy sound of footsteps and heavy panting

Loud footsteps carry across the throne room, a breathless man’s voice echoing and bouncing off of the walls.

“My lord, dear, there is a kingdom, in the far off land, they need our troops. They are willing to…” A small, pudgy man curled on the floor forces out, “they are willing to send you their daughter, her hand in marriage,”

“How far is this kingdom?” Agust asks.

“Twenty-one days, sir, we can make it in nineteen if we lessen breaks in between,” the man pants out.

“How old is this daughter of theirs?”

“Just turned twenty.” Ah, the poor girl is four years younger, so innocent, so pure, what a shame her purity will now be tainted.

It’s a shame she is having to give her freedom away this quick, but then again, not everyone is as lucky as to be as free as King Agust.

Not everyone is that obscene either.

And exactly nineteen days later Agust is circling around a fair maiden, examining closely her beauty, every inch of her skin.

And God this kingdom did not disappoint with their women, especially this princess.

Not a speck marking her skin, no flaws, she was perfect in every sense, in every glance, and that is what made the decision. Agust would provide the kingdom support, and power, in return, he would be gifted the kingdom’s first, and only, princess.

Agust doesn’t care about how the woman (barely a woman) feels- for him her beauty is enough to capture his attention more than any other woman has or ever will.

It’s like someone has hit him with a rock: he’s in shock with the pure, unmarred sight of her, his inside coiling in pleasure at the thought of marrying her.

Who cares if Agust didn’t want to marry? He does now.

Maybe it’s the way she looks, maybe it’s her posture, the pure innocence she radiates, but he, the King, truly, really, wants her, more than he has ever wanted anything ever before.

How sweet, how pure, is love at first sight?

In most cases, it does not get sweeter than the bliss you feel in a peaceful spring afternoon, for others it does not become bitterer than your relative’s final words.

But he does not care for the bitterness nor the sweetness; he cares for his future queen.

It’s a shame his love was bittersweet and toxic to the core.

19th July, twelve weeks before your wedding...

A man once told you that when you face times of trouble, you must stand your ground and work the situation through single-handedly, but you have never been strong enough to do so, or to exercise this practice. The only way you knew to defend yourself was through your words and your sword, in some cases the words became your sword.

But what do you do when you cannot use either?

You’ve never thought you’d end up walking around a palace that isn’t yours late at night trying to find an escape route, yet here you are, running around, the soles of your feet pressing against the floor with the cold marble being the only thing your sensitive feet can feel, it was not usually this cold at night back in your kingdom.

When you were first told the only way to save your country from being thundered by your enemy was to be gifted to a King, you accepted, you already knew your people came before you, but dear God did you make a mistake.

Yet now you’re to be wed to him. You’ve also been made into a mere dancer, someone that would be given no respect in your Kingdom, the anklet full of bells constantly ringing was the consistent reminder of your status. It’s almost like you’re a concubine. You have no power, and whereas you used to have enough energy to defend yourself, you know that if you try anything now you would end up in a position much worse than how you are right now, all because you gave yourself away.

And it was on your own accords.

You’ve never looked so pathetic, scurrying around, messing up your skirt and almost stabbing yourself with a sword strapped loosely with string (taken from the loose threads of your clothing) to the waist of your embroidered clothing, just to find an escape route.

The main doors aren’t a possibility since they’re guarded. You cannot leave through a window, there are guards surrounding the whole place, you’ll be caught and given a fate which is worse than death…so maybe-

A shuffling sound. It’s almost like leaves rustling.

You whip out your sword, cut yourself on the arm in the process, and slash it around only to be met with the hard, shattering clang sound of metal. You can’t think properly, you’ve never had to actually fight, especially not against a foreigner for God’s sake

Your body goes numb, your mind goes blank and all you can think is intruder, intruder, intruder, intruder. For all you know this could be your last breath.

And all of a sudden you’re pressed up against the wall with a blade against your throat, your own sword now on the floor and prayers flowing out of your mouth whilst you stare into the eyes of your attacker, a face so familiar but a feeling so different.

He looked almost exactly like your fiancé. He just has shorter hair, black, and from what you could tell in the faint glow of the moonlight, he has the same scar, but it looks prettier than his lookalike’s, there was a certain beauty about him, but you can tell he could not care any less than he does about being caught by you.

“Who are you? You’re not from around here.” Neither is he, he looks like he belongs with the peasants from the way he’s dressed.

“Neither are you.” You spit.

“Where are you from? Are you that bastard’s whore?” The boy leans in closer, pressing the blade of sword even harder against you until you have no more space left to move.

“I could kill you,” He tells you when you refuse to answer him; your vision goes blurry with tears threatening to spill. It’s not normal for you to shed tears; you’re used to holding it in because you have to set an example for the younger girls back home.

“You wouldn’t kill a princess,” You whimper, it’s like something clicks in his eyes immediately, grip loosening against his sword and swinging it back into place to rest at his hip.

“So you’re a princess? You’re useful,” a small smirk plants itself on the man’s face.

You shouldn’t trust him, but you cannot help it, he is the most normal person you’ve met in this place so far, in fact he is the only other person you’ve met and have talked to, so maybe you are just desperate, or maybe you are trusting your instincts too much, but you are already in a difficult position, it cannot get worse than this, than being stuck in a foreign land and having to marry a king who couldn’t give a shit less about you and your feelings, just his desire.

But something about him is comfortable; it tastes sweet, sweet like a summer’s day spent in the forest near your home feasting on the most extravagant delicacies your homeland could offer.

“What’s wrong with you? Why the hell are you so pathetically quiet? I thought you were a princess not a slave.” He spits. Oh, if only he knew. “And what were you doing? What were you doing in the middle of the night? Trying to leave? If there was a way out, you would have left by now.”

How does he know?

“Who are you? I’ll call the king, I’ll call his guards! Don’t even think about touching me.” Ah, you’ve finally regained some sort of brain. Though you are lying, you would not call the king, not when this man is your only hope so far.

“Shut your dumb mouth. I don’t want to touch you. Not when you are quite clearly his property,” he pauses, looking you up and down, a smirk etched onto his face, one you didn’t even mind, “though, you are a pretty sight.”

“No, I’m not his property, I am a princess, and I’d appreciate it if you could treat me with the same respect which you would treat your king with. Especially assuming that I am about to become his wife,” you step forward towards him, faking absolute confidence.

“Mm, but I don’t respect this king you talk about. I don’t respect manipulative fucks who use me to get what they want,” what is he on about?

“What?” You ask, confusion taking over your sense.

“You want to go back home?”

“Well obviously, isn’t this what we’re discussing?”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“I’ll spoil it for you now: no. No, you can’t go back, you do not belong to your country anymore. I mean they basically sold you didn’t they? You no longer have any worth even there, let alone here.” He laughs, “so pathetic, really, but, if you really wanted to get out of here…” so this was what it was, this was what he wanted out of you.

And you are so pathetic, so stupid you’re actually giving him what he wants.

“Please. Tell me.”

“Hmm, help me rip his life apart. You’re a warrior princess. I know where you come from, what they teach you. Help me kill him.” Him? Who is him?

“Him?”

“Your beloved fiancé, my dearest, bastard brother,” He chuckled, “who else? You really think I look like him for no reason?”

Oh, in God’s name what will you do?

You are not one for battles and murder; you have trouble even lifting your sword before someone else does.

What are you going to do? Kill him in his sleep? Rip his throat from his body? Please, that’s absolutely ridiculous; you barely have the power let alone the strength.

Who even is this man, besides having the role of being the King’s brother? How come you have not seen him before?

“Who are you?”

“Are you that stupid? Are you that dumb?”

“I asked a question,” you step forward once more, regaining your confidence.

“So did I,” He spits, “I’m his brother, he threw me out of here, now I’m back, look, do you want to leave? Or do you want be stuck in a marriage that promises you nothing but pain?”

“Why are you telling me? I could tell my fiancé.” He steps into you, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he pushes you back into the wall with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“You don’t really want to marry him, do you? Look me in the eyes and tell me,” he whispers. You falter, he’s right, you were just looking for an escape route, he caught you, and of course you will not speak to his brother.

“I want out,” a tear makes its way down your cheek, “I’ll do whatever,”

“Don’t worry for it, it’ll be handled, princess…” his hand makes its way to your face, gently tracing the outline.

And this, this is how you know you are with the right man in the moment, the sense of comfort felt was unspeakable, it almost felt like…

You were supposed to marry a man who treated you like a whore, but now you are not sure whether you will be marrying someone at all.

And maybe this was the perfect way out.

You meet him a few times more, discussing the plan and strategy; these meetings being in the safety of your dimly lit chambers, a little bit more up close and personal, and honestly you enjoy this closeness.

And it’s unfortunate really, but you seem to have taken a liking for the bastard king’s brother, it’s almost pathetic that you’re discussing your escape plan.

“Have you eaten? Has he hurt you today at all?”

“No, he ignored me today,” truth be told, you’re not sure why King Agust is ignoring you as such, it makes you wonder is he maybe that you met his brother? Or maybe he was sick of you and sick of your voice, your dancing, everything, maybe he would finally let you go? Unlikely, but you still wished for it.

“He must have smelt me.” Truth be told, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised to hear this either.

“What?”

“He must have smelt another man’s scent on you, we need to be careful, don’t come close to me.” But you like being close to him, you haven’t felt so comfortable being close to someone in such a long time.

“But I like this, I like you.” You thought maybe this would fluster him, but his face remained void of any emotion at all.

“I don’t have time to be friendly, I’m here to keep you company simply so that you trust me. And we’re going to the market place tomorrow, I’ll sneak you out, don’t worry, he won’t even notice you’re gone.” His hand comes up and cups your soft cheek, stroking your cheekbone, “stay safe, princess.”

And then he’s up and gone.

What does he even do here? You wonder as you stroll around the market place linked hand in hand with the man who had promise to save you from an unwanted marriage, and as much of a dick he can be, he’s still so pretty to look at.

And you know deep down he is so much nicer than he’ll ever show to you in a public place.

You’ll never tell him but he’s ten times better looking than his brother, because at least he does not force you to do things solely for his pleasure, and at least he’s gentle, and at least he cares; at least he isn’t an idiot.

Or maybe he is forcing you into things...but you’re gaining from this too.

And besides, for some fucked up reason you feel way too much affection for him.

“You know...you never really tell me how you are, it’s a little scary,” you don’t tell him how you are either, but you know it’s only because he doesn’t care.

“I’m fine. And you?” You don’t understand why, but hearing him talk so straightforward, so politely, well...politer than he’s ever been before to you anyway, but it makes you laugh, a pure chuckle. “What? What is it now?”

“No, nothing, you were just...being polite, it seemed too sweet,” you giggle uncontrollably to the point the people around you start staring too.

“Sweet? I don’t do sweet, it sounds disgusting, I think what you mean is that I’m playing nice, and in that case, if it’s such an issue, I can go back to being a dick, if you would like, so you can dislike me all you want, I don’t care,” that’s a lot of talk for someone who doesn’t care, it only just makes you giggle more, until it finally settles in your head what he’s just said, you stop him from leading you further down the market, linking your other hand in his as well.

“I hope you realise that I never disliked you, Min Yoongi, not even in the beginning,” and that’s when the giggles erupt again, just at the sound of his name. You like that. You like his name, even if it’d been corrupted by a man who should not even have the right to say it.

Yoongi jerks his hand out of yours.

“God, the only reason I even held your hand was so that I wouldn’t lose you, not so that you can get all sickly sweet and sentimental, please keep that between us in private.”

And that only makes you giggle even more.

Dear God, this is going to be a long day, Yoongi thinks, he almost wants to drown himself right now with the way you just can’t stop giggling.

But at the same time it’s kind of endearing.

And maybe he loves it…just a little bit.

“You know, I have never visited a marketplace. Not once.” You tell Yoongi, he doesn’t actually care, he probably isn’t even listening.

“And you’re telling me....why?” Yoongi asks.

“Because I want to tell you, so listen, or God forbid I’ll have my people stake you,” you jokingly threaten him.

“Okay, princess, tell me, or ask me, whatever you want,” well you didn’t expect that one, but you’ll accept it either way.

“You said he threw you out...tell me what happened,” it’s not even a question, more of a demand, and you know he’ll tell you. Min Yoongi pauses, his muscles tensing underneath your fingers from where you gripped onto his arm.

“he killed my father, that greedy bastard killed my mother too, then he told me to leave or he’d have me killed so I can join my parents, and well I guess he didn’t have the heart to kill me, we were always close growing up, I always took care of him like he was my younger brother...because well he was, but then he killed my father, and my mother, just because he wanted the throne, because he was tired of being ‘second best’, I miss it, I miss him, but after what he’s done to the people, and me, someone has to dispose of him.”

“The people?”

“Well, look around you, does anyone seem happy?” You stop in the middle of the market, taking a full three-sixty-degree turn and looking at people’s faces, full of sorrowful expressions, sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks.

“They look so downcast, so unhealthy.”

“They are, he can’t take care of a kingdom, he was never trained for it, and he was just greedy for power and...Women and money, he takes so much money from us that we’re left not being able to buy food to feed our families, or whoever we live with.”

“If this is where you live, why were you in the palace that night?”

“Let’s say I’m lucky I lived there my whole life. I know a woman that I grew up with, she lets me in when I want to see her. I don’t think I could live without her.”

Oh. There’s a woman.

And he can’t live without her.

Then why does he act so affectionate in private?

“Anyway, you told me you wanted to introduce me to someone in the market place?”

“Yeah, we’re almost there, there’s several places I needed to take you,” Yoongi drags you all the way to a butcher’s stand.

“___, this is my friend, he’s a butcher….he also um, executes in his spare time,”

“Oh.” You state, a sense of confusion settling in your brain.

“I think you know why you’re here, ___,” Yoongi whispers your ear.

“You need a favour from me, son? A favour just like last time?” The butcher asks, despite his overall gruff look, his voice is much smoother and silkier than you would have imagined.

You don’t know what favour Yoongi asked, and you don’t want to know either.

“When’s the next execution?” Yoongi’s voice lowers, almost as if he’s asking a secret.

“Day before the King’s wedding, why? You need me to sneak you in?” The butcher asks, an untamed brow being raised.

“Me and my…” Yoongi stares at you, eyes softening, “…accomplice, will be hopefully running away.”

“Ain’t that a crime?”

“Exactly. We’ll be caught; I’ll make sure of it.”

“Son, why are you telling me all of this?”

“When we’re presented in front of you to be executed-” Yoongi, eyes him.

“He won’t execute ‘er, he’ll fuck ‘er, chain ‘er up, but he won’t kill her…heard he’s been too whipped for this soon to be bitch of his to be able to do something of the sort,” you gasp at the vulgar language the butcher uses, raising your hand almost as if to slap him.

“How dare you? How dare you use such vulgar-” Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder, your anger suddenly disappearing and transforming into nerves, Jesus Christ, why does he do that?

“I apologise, she’s not used to such areas-”

“My God, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’ve both been meeting each other behind the King’s back with the way you’ve been looking at each other,” The butcher chuckled loudly, a hard blush covering both yours and Yoongi’s cheeks.

Was it truly that obvious how you were towards each other?

“Imagine if he knew my whole plan,” Yoongi mutters to himself, “he isn’t a quiet lad, he’ll go around telling everyone.” He places his head in his hands, sighing.

“Hmm, the way you look at me…” you tease, rolling over in your bed and squishing his cheeks.

“Oh, God.”

“How do you look at me…I know you weren’t too fond of me that first night…” you dreamily place your hands around his neck, he calmly grabs your hands from around his neck, and places them back by your sides.

The sting of rejection injected in you had never stung worse.

“I mean at least I don’t hate you. It could be worse. I could be like him; at least I’m not going to beat you because I get mad at you at times, at least I treat you as I should.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You state, tears welling up, it’s pathetic really, and why are you crying?

“I’m sorry.” Is he? Is he really?

“You act so strange sometimes, it’s like one minute you’ll caress me, and make sure I’m okay and the next you’re ashamed of me. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

“I’m sorry, princess.”

You don’t reply after.

You don’t meet with him that night either, and he doesn’t bother showing up.

It’s midnight, and you’ve never been in worse pain…not after how you’ve been treated. On this day especially, the cut you accidentally made on yourself the night when you met the emotionally unavailable brother of your soon-to-be husband had finally made itself aware. The beating you got for accidentally marking up your skin was nothing compared to the deep cut he sliced on your shoulder blade in order to shame you for the stench of another man being found on you.

His proclamations of love meant nothing when he did this to you. He wasn’t a king he was a coward.

“Why are you not asleep?” You know who it is. He’s your only hope in this country, and with less than a week until you are to be wedded to his brother, you can’t afford to disobey him, not when you owe your life to him for saving you earlier.

His brother. His brother…a man that had absolutely no right to be on the throne, a man that treats you like exactly how a dancer would have been treated in your kingdom. He knows it too, what being a dancer for the king means in your culture; just the sound of bells wrapped tightly around your ankles was enough to strip you of your dignity, making you dance was just another way to ridicule you. All in all, nothing could prepare you for the slice his sword left just next to your left shoulder blade; nothing prepared you to be treated like a bitch on heat left to bleed to death later.

“It makes me uncomfortable,” you state, don’t let him know your weakness; don’t let him know your weakness, you’re stronger than that, are you not?

“Oh, really?” he doesn’t seem sympathetic at all, you can hear his footsteps nearing you, can see his face in the dim light of the burning lanterns scattered across your chambers as he sits in front of you, closer than ever before, and that is right when he draws his dagger out, using it to uncover the white netted shawl from back home that’s draped across your body, your mother gave it to you before she died.

What is he doing?

He moves his dagger into the burning candle wick, heating the blade. You are not quite sure what this man is doing, he could be about to kill you, he could be about to slit your throat, let you bleed out. Like what they did to the meat back home.

“I saw you dancing.” He states, sighing, the flame of the candle reflected in his pitch black eyes, “You dance well.” Now this man whom you trusted is just mocking you, does he not know how degrading it feels to be a dancer? To be stripped of your status, your name, and your home, your family only to be made a dancer for pleasure? For no other than the man who gave your father support in exchange for your hand in marriage?

“I’m a princess, not a dancer, I certainly shouldn’t be-” he presses his scorching hot dagger to the wound on your shoulder blade, pressing your head into his chest, allowing you to cry.

As much as the pain made you suffer, you couldn’t help but sigh with relief at the heat, tears escaping the seams of your eyes, and at the very least your wound will not be infected now. A small tickle, right inside of your ear, “You are not a princess, you are not royalty. You are a mere slave; if you had any noble status over here…you wouldn’t be dancing for that sick bastard of a brother. And if you knew what was best for you, you would run when I let you go.”

“Besides, I think your dancing is beautiful. Not for pleasurable purposes, I swear, princess, it takes skill to be as talented as you, you shouldn’t be mocked for it. I don’t see why it’s such tradition to be mocked for something as intricate as dance.”

It hurts the most because he is right; your status of being a princess means nothing to those in this kingdom, you’ll only be important once you are married to the poor excuse of a king yet you know that in this king’s eyes, you’ll only ever be his whore. But not if Min Yoongi steals the throne, then you could be free, even if it only leads to you wanting to go straight back to him, because over the past week, you’ve learnt how much you need him.

Yoongi presses the dagger harder against your shoulder blade, more tears escaping from your eyes, full sobs running out of your mouth, and all of a sudden the heat is gone, and so is the comfortable warmth of Yoongi’s embrace. You are unable to tell which one is more hated- you want him back either way.

Two dark orbs meet yours, and even in the dim light you admire his scar, only adding fire to his delicate, beautiful features, one that both brothers marked each other with-

For vengeance.

And it looks like Min Yoongi finally will claim his vengeance.

“Give me your hand, princess,” you are far too weak to give him your hand, so he takes your left hand himself, knowing that it is only adding to the pain in your left shoulder blade.

“I thought I wasn’t a princess? I am a slave…no?”

Yoongi plainly ignores your comment, placing his dagger in your hand.

A wave of shock passes through you. A man giving a woman his dagger back in your Kingdom meant much more than just a gift. It meant he was infatuated with you.

But Min Yoongi couldn’t.

“You may not be a princess to him, my brother may not respect your status but I will, and I always will, even after I’ve overthrown that son of a bitch, and even if you decide to leave me,” his fingers trace the outlines of your eyes, your nose, your jaw and finally, your lips. Contrary to his appearance, his touch is much softer than that of the linen used in the clothing your father used to have custom-made for you, his touch was softer than the soft hue of blue that painted the sky, and more comfortable than gossamer touching your skin. In return, you lift your left arm up, fingers extended, bearing the pain because infatuation is not delivered without at least some, and gently trace your finger over the beautiful scar left vertical across his eye. You are lost in the map of his undeniable beauty, so much so that you almost forget that you owe him for stopping an infection from forming in your wound.

“Take,” you pause, a searing pain bursting through your shoulder, Yoongi’s hand immediately comes to rub circles on your back, as you raise a fist clenched with your shawl, the same one your mother gave you, “this is a sign of my gratitude, for helping me, sell it I’m sure you’ll get money for resources or something, you can leave now if you must,” he blinks, facial features void of any expressions or feelings. And then it happens, rapidly, sharper than a blade, he swipes the dagger out of your hand and carves the lightest scratch beneath your collar bone which causes two more tears to trickle down your throat, the scratch is light, but still more than visible and you know you will be receiving a heck of a round of shame tomorrow when you see the king, he does not appreciate you being marked even further.

“How can I leave an untended wound? Isn’t that immoral?” He asks, “You realise, you still owe me one thing,” he trails off, and you can practically see the cynical smirk on his face.

“Me. I’ll gift you myself. I don’t want to marry him, so you take me instead.” You tell him, not a single second of hesitation, Min Yoongi stares at you dead in the eyes, all evidence of mischief and emotion drained from his face, taking your shawl and wrapping you in it, “Sleep, princess, it’ll be easier this time round,” clearly, Yoongi had no care for the way you felt.

“Don’t leave, please, I’d never leave you even if you let me go.”

But you didn’t expect the sting of rejection in your heart when he left. He didn’t want you. You misunderstood.

You are not wanted by Yoongi. And here you thought maybe someone really wanted all of you, but no, he just needs you for his damned plan.

Hand-holding seems like such a sweet, affectionate thing to do, but when you’re holding the hand of a man who clearly doesn’t care for you, it feels like more of a trap, especially when you have to announce a marriage to the people of his kingdom.

And it hurts worse when the man you’re seemingly in love with is standing behind a curtain, slightly visible only to you, staring at you with both admiration and pain evident in his eyes.

“…And to celebrate…grand execution…to rid our homeland of those who take it for granted…” you’re too focussed on your Yoongi, who’s staring ever-so cutely at you, emotions, for the first time in the period you’ve known him, showing.

It’s strange afterwards to say the least, there’s a slight look of betrayal on Yoongi’s face, and a sad sort of happiness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?” You ask him

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Why?” you ask again.

“I’m sorry,” anger fills his face, tears drip down from his eyes, he pulls you into your chambers, gripping your face and squeezing it lightly.

“You better not change your mind about wanting to leave because if you do, God help me I will never let you leave,” he tells you, grabbing your forearm and squeezing your wrist.

“And what will you do? If I leave, what will you do?” You ask, tears rushing down your face, because maybe you were right. Maybe he did want all of you.

“I’ll find you, I’ll chase you-” he pauses, slipping the dagger hidden in your skirt out, dragging the tip of the dagger over the outlines of your face, and finally down to the surface of your throat, “-I’ll kill myself, and I’ll kill you too, and then maybe we would finally be at peace with each other, far off and away from Earth, with no one but each other.” a sad smile covers his face. If anyone were to be watching the scene they would have thought you both were psychotic, but you understood, he would never really kill you, but he’d never let you be someone else’s either.

You’re not sure where the sudden affection has appeared from as two nights before he completely ignored your statement about your love for him.

“…I’d let you kill me.” You let out a soft chuckle as he places a soft kiss against your forehead, taking his hands back and placing them on your waist.

“Even if I end up marrying him anyway, I’ll still spend the consummation with you.”

Yet, still, he doesn’t kiss you.

That night when Yoongi is ten minutes later than usual for the meeting in your chambers, something is off, something is different, smells different, there’s something wrong.

And all comes crashing down when he brings in a woman with him, neck bruised with her love bites, body stinking with the stench of his woman’s perfume. And you resented it.

Why would he do this?

“Princess, meet Jihyo, you may recognise her.”

“I do not.”

“Princess, I serve you breakfast each morning how could you not remember me?”

“I don’t care for you, I don’t care for him either, I don’t even care for myself.” You’re miserable, and you want him to see it, to see if he really cares.

But things were fine this morning? Had he not made it clear how he felt towards you? Why did he have to break you now?

“Jihyo will be helping you go the morning you run away, I’ve changed plans so that you won’t have to get hurt by him, I wouldn’t want to muck up on the day of the execution and have you executed, so I’ll be sneaking you out the morning of the execution, he’ll be busy so he won’t come seeking for you.”

“What the absolute fuck, Min Yoongi?”

“Princess-”

“Do you have no shame? I’ve confessed my never-ending love for you several times now, I’ve made it clear I won’t be leaving even if you want me to, so how dare you come in here with this whore of yours covered in marks she made and covered in her stench. You disgust me. You’re no different from your brother.”

Even Jihyo had nothing more to say.

“I knew you’d hate me in the end. But I’ll tell you anyways, my love, you’d be better off with someone in your own kingdom, and so you need to move on, and I, too, need to get you off of my mind before I make a decision I regret.” Yoongi says, refusing to make eye contact with you.

“No.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you? To see me marked by a servant, doesn’t it disgust you that my standards are lower? Doesn’t it make you want to leave?”

“It does, it truly does,” you weep, tears spilling, your heart heavy with pain.

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Jihyo rushes out of your chambers.

“I won’t be coming to see you again, my love.”

And you won’t be trying to find him either.

Jihyo throws your minimal belongings into a weakly knit rucksack while you watch, staring intently, unwilling to move.

“Princess, he won’t change his mind, he wants you gone and far away…and safe.”

“I won’t leave.”

“But he wants you to, don’t you want him to be happy.” It’s sickening to think that this entire time he just wanted you for the crown, he didn’t feel anything towards you, and he just wanted his crown back.

“Princess, he doesn’t love you. Don’t you see what I did to him?”

“I hate both of you.” You get up and grab the rucksack from Jihyo, storming out, finding your way through the halls to the courtyard, where you know the execution is taking place, you may as well bid your King farewell.

You really don’t understand what you’re trying to do, you shouldn’t be doing this because it’ll ruin Yoongi’s plan completely…but there’s a fire inside of you that’s encouraging you to keep going, and you won’t stop yourself.

But maybe you should have because it hurts even more than rejection when you see Yoongi on his knees blindfolded, with his hands bound by rope behind his back and a blade swinging towards his neck. You’re frozen; this wasn’t a part of his plan, was it? He was supposed to have escaped the ropes by now, why is he still there? And he’s not even bothering to move?

And neither can you, your body’s unwilling to move; knowing that if you do you’ll regret it, it’ll pain you terribly.

But you end up doing it anyway.

“No, stop!” All heads turn to you as you swing yourself at your king, sobbing uncontrollably, lungs gasping for air, “Yoongi,” you breathe, slipping his blindfold off.

“Why are you here, you should have left when you had the chance-” the bruises on his neck were long gone now, and he no longer smelt like Jihyo’s wretched perfume, just how you preferred it.

“I should have known,” the king scoffed, “you bloody slut,” Agust drags you away from Yoongi using your hands, cuts and scrapes make their way onto your knees, drawing crimson liquid, “I should have known when I first smelt someone else’s scent on you. You’ve been having an affair behind my back haven’t you?” Gasps pass around the courtyard; you forgot you had an audience for a moment.

“N-no.” He slaps you, grabbing your neck and choking you.

“Don’t lie to me, whore.” The king presses his nails so hard they cut into your skin, “How long since you’ve been seeing him,”

“A couple of months, when I first came,” You cry, struggling in his grip.

“My brother of all people, seriously, you could have-” the both of you can hear the movement behind you; it’s a rustling noise, heavy breathing and it takes you back to the night you first met Yoongi. The king and you both turn your heads slowly to see Yoongi trying to free himself out of the rope. The king scoffs and bellows with laughter, ripping his hand off of your neck and pulling Yoongi towards him, dragging him by his shirt.

“Yoongi?” You call, knowing it could get you in trouble.

He never listens anyway.

You can hear the grunts and shoves, and the yelps of pain coming from both of their mouths, but you don’t watch.

You don’t watch as the love of your life gets beaten by his brother.

You don’t watch as you hear them struggle to kill, hear the punches and grunts and the violent matter being dealt with, because you’ve never been able to handle the mere sight of blood.

There’s a long silence before you hear the sheer sound of metal slicing someone’s neck open and you look up to see your king holding a bloody sword.

You knew what that meant.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your ex fiancé’s body lying dead and cold on the floor.

The weeks go on by with a new king in place, the rightful king in his place. You haven’t talked to Yoongi since that day, scared to open your mouth in case he’d offer to send you back home, and you don’t want to go, you want to stay here, stay with Yoongi, so you’ll sit here quietly and play in this intense game of fear. He still invites you to eat with him though, tries to make small talk and smiles at you, but nonetheless, you remain ignoring him, barely eating and avoiding eye contact at all times.

There are times where you’ll be tempted to say something though, and tonight happens to be one of those nights.

“Is your room comfortable, I can have them give you a more comfortable room?” the bed makes my back ache.

“If you don’t like the food I can have them prepare something else for you?” the food’s fine, why won’t you just let me be.

“My king,” you hear a new voice, “we have some…enquiries shall we call it?”

“Yes?” Yoongi responds, placing down his cutlery.

“The previous king never married, the country’s been missing a queen for a long time now, it would be in your best interest to marry, don’t you think?”

“Mm, very well, who do you have in mind?” Yoongi responds. Is he fucking joking right now?

“There are many suitors who are interested…how about Miss Areum, she is your acquaintance since childhood, no?” Unwillingly you growl, extremely un-ladylike but you couldn’t help yourself.

The king can’t help but chuckle, a handsome chuckle at that, too.

“I think Princess ___ would make quite a perfect queen don’t you think? If only she would talk to me, then we could discuss it further.”

“Really?”

“Ah, so she does have a voice? I thought my queen-to-be lost her voice for a while.” Yoongi laughs and it’s a pure, joyous laugh, not cynical or evil like your late fiancé’s.

“I’m sorry, I was scared you’d be reminded of how you wanted to send me back if I spoke.”

“I only wanted that for your safety, princess, but the threat is gone now.”

And for the first time since the death of your fiancé, you laugh and you eat a full meal.

The days go on by yet again, winter approaches with heavy thunder and not a word has been spoken about your lover’s subtle marriage proposal, you wonder if he meant it at all.

So far you’ve spent your days scurrying around helping servants, making yourself useful, running around the market place and sewing. Yoongi doesn’t approve of you mixing with people in the market place, scared you’d get hurt or make a scene due to your uneasiness in the country; you ignored him per usual.

But yesterday whilst helping the servants with their tasks you saw Jihyo, and you couldn’t help but feel for her; you cursed out her name when she was really just doing her job, it’s not like she wanted to take part in hurting you, but she did anyways. So you talked to her, though you wished you hadn’t; you wished you hadn’t seen the hollow look in her eyes and the sallow skin on her cheeks: she was suffering, starving probably, and you wonder why Yoongi doesn’t do anything about it since he claimed he was so much better than his brother.

“Jihyo?”

“Oh, Princess!” She smiled, bowing her head slowly, weakly, and her smile didn’t meet her eyes.

“Jihyo, I wanted to apologise for cursing you.”

“Don’t worry about it!” why she was being so positive when quite clearly your words had cut through her, you had no idea, but you knew she was hurting as much as the other servants were, but she looked worse than all of them.

“Jihyo, you need to eat.”

“I have, I ate bread for lunch, Princess,” she sighed.

“Ah, my queen, I wondered when you’d come see me, I’ve been missing you, you know? Today I realised I still haven’t even kissed you.” Yoongi claims, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other he swung around your thighs getting ready to lift you, but you stop him.

“Yoongi you’re king now.”

“Yes.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You need to raise the servants’ wage.” You state. He stays silent, thinking for a moment.

“You know, I was so wrapped up in our stupid little plan to kill my own brother, I didn’t even think about what I would do if I were king.”

“Then figure it out, and then you can kiss me, and marry me too, if you wish.”

You wish Yoongi had figured this all out before so you could be happy together now, but unfortunately for him you won’t be marrying someone who hasn’t even thought of the people of his kingdom, you won’t let him be selfish like his brother.

As time goes on and as summer solstice passes you notice the changes, the cheerful workers and servants that pass you, and you can tell Yoongi’s stuck to his word, and this time when you see Jihyo, you’re not worried for the sake of her health, she looks healthy, and she has a ring around her fourth finger.

“Jihyo, is that really you?”

“Princess! You seem much more mature since the last time I’ve seen you.” Jihyo giggles.

“I’m sure I do…is that a ring? Who from? Are you married now?” A sick feeling rises in your stomach, though you knew Yoongi loved you, or had some sort of feelings for you since he still hadn’t properly confessed his love for you, you still couldn’t shake off the fact that Jihyo had marked him at one point, and while it may have been to convince you to leave, the image of it still bothers you.

“Not quite yet, but I’ll be married off by the end of this month to some rich family in the south, I’ll be gone,” a sigh of relief passes through your lips, “though, I will miss you, princess.” Blood rushes to your cheeks, painting them a flowery pink colour.

“I’ll miss you too, I hope your husband treats you well, Jihyo.” You smile at her, knowing that this was Yoongi’s doing, if he hadn’t raised their wages maybe Jihyo would still be looking as sickly and as weak as she was before.

“It is the king’s doing, you know? So maybe you should go see your lover, princess, maybe you’ll be married off by the end of this month, too.”

And maybe you will go see this lover of yours.

“My king? I’ve missed you.” You drag out your words to tease Yoongi, watching as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“Can I finally kiss you now? Are you happy with what I’ve done?” He slowly reaches his hands forward and rests them around your waist.

“I saw Jihyo today, she’s getting married off did you know that?” You ask him.

“I didn’t, I haven’t talked to her since…the time in your chambers…” his voices drifts off, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. Yoongi places his fingers under your chin, kissing your forehead, “I’ve never doubted your love for me, I suggest you don’t doubt mine for you either.”

“That’s easy for you, I’ve laid my heart bare for you to see, yet you took advantage of that and played with mine this whole time.”

“I’m sorry for that, my dear, but you know I’m not amazing with women.”

“You were pretty amazing with Jihyo.” You shouldn’t have said that.

“Don’t do that, don’t bring her into this, you know why I did what I did.”

“I don’t want to be played with; your brother did that well to me.”

“If I was my brother I wouldn’t have listened to you. But I did listen and look how happy everyone is.” He’s right, you know he is.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He questions, brushing stray hair strands out of your hair.

“Okay,” you laugh, pushing yourself onto your tippy toes.

Yoongi gently grabs your face, pulling you towards him, and the moment your lips touch; you fall weak at the knees, all that wait was finally worth it as you both fell to the floor stripping off your clothes as you do so, and when Yoongi picks you up to carry you bridal style to his bed, he pauses, muscles tense.

“What’s wrong? If you don’t want to do this we don’t have to.”

“Oh, I forgot to ask you if you wanted to marry me.”

Needless to say you said yes.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #bts fanfic #x reader #min yoongi #bts angst #bts imagines #angst #daechwita #royalty #jimin #jungkook #taehyung x reader #taehyung #oneshot #imagine

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Twelve: What Are These Feelings?

AN: Up until now, this story has been rather lighthearted hasn’t it? Well, this chapter is not. I hope the chapter isn’t too confusing to read, the italics denote memories/the past.

Word Count: 4.4k

Trigger Warning: period era racism, racial abuse, racial slurs, sexual assault, torture, physical and mental abuse

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Thirteen: The Ballad of Claudia Walker

After the silent establishment between Erik and I on not discussing our night time conversation or the bathtub incident, things went back to normal between us. Well normal for us. I continued to find new ways to sass Erik and he still pretended I annoyed him. It was childish but fun. Pretty soon, the days turned into routine, days turning into a week, and then some. In fact, the dates would have blurred if it weren't for the constant announcements from the radio and the television. The routine was set and constant, running in the morning followed by physical training. After that, we went on with our individual training.

Today was no different, Charles had spent the day working on different tactics and ways of controlling the younger mutant abilities during their individual trainings with him. While I found myself entranced with the weight room. I had been dying to do something other than venture around. Something to waste time. I immediately went to the punching bag. I tied up my hair, wrapped my knuckles and feet, then got into my stance.

I closed my brown eyes, letting my surroundings fade, letting only the serene feeling of it just being me and the punching bag. I first just worked slowly on popping out each hand, as it carefully, but swiftly, hit the air. I did this for a minute, until I felt my hands were ready, and I began to move on to the bag. My left hand shot out, striking the bag with a fist, I was about to hit with my right as my fist threw forward, and connected with thin air. Dumbfounded, I opened my eyes in shock, and saw the bag levitating over my head. I whirled around, and found Erik with his brows raised at me.

"Give me back the bag," was my only demand.

"I think I might just leave it here," he snickered softly.

I pinched the brim of my nose, "Erik, I hope there's a reason for you coming in here other than being an annoyance,"

"As a matter of fact I do," Erik replied, the bag dropping to the ground behind me, as he started to move closer to me. "I was hoping to find you here actually," he stated, with his hands in his pockets.

"Why?"

"I have a question," Erik began. "Could you look into my head and know what moves I'm about to use on you?"

"Maybe, I could predict your movement by reading your emotional pulses," I guessed, shrugging my shoulders.

"How easy would it be to not do it?" Erik asked curiously.

I looked at him confused, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you see other people's emotions naturally? Or would you be able to stop yourself seeing how I'm about to attack you?" Erik elaborated.

I thought about his question for a while. I have never put that much thought into reading emotional pulses during a fight, I was mainly focused on everyday emotions and feelings.

"I could stop it. Block you off, so to speak," I finally replied, and he nodded.

"Good, do that,"

"Is this round two from our last little spar?" I asked, a grin on my face and Erik rolled his eyes, but he mirrored my grin.

The two of us stood for a moment, I was unsure of what exactly to do next, until Erik suddenly launched his fist towards me. I barely managed to block him, but didn't catch the kick to my shins, causing me to stumble. Erik continued to push me back, I could tell he was noting each failed block and each successful attack that I landed. Breathing heavily, I stepped back slightly and used my legs to my advantage, lashing out with a powerful front kick, spinning on the ball of my foot with a roundhouse kick, and continued the spin for a back kick.

That's when I felt Erik's foot on my rear and he pushed me off balance. Falling forward, I rolled and came up with fire in my eyes – and saw his smirk.

"Oh Claudia, for all your talk you're still simply a pretty face, not a force to be reckoned with," he taunted.

He was playing with me, trying to get a rise out of me.

"Damn this man to Hell," I thought.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I hopped up to my feet and raised my hands into a fighting stance, pure determination on my face to wipe the smirk off his face. I just needed to knock him on his ass one good time. Erik's fist blurred in front of my eyes and I nimbly slipped past the punch. The advantage was mine now, with a bob in my stance I unleashed a series of punches. Erik grinned at me, seeming proud that he caused me to show visible signs of frustration on my face. I think Erik was much too happy about it and dropped his guard because my fist flew right into his right eye. He slumped down on the ground with his hand to his eye momentarily stunned by the force of the punch I'd thrown.

"Oh my God! Erik I'm so sorry!" I hurried down to his side taking his head into my hands. "Let me see it!" I demanded, worry evident in my voice.

"I'm fine I swear!" Erik insisted taking his hand from his right eye.

"I'll be the judge of that thank you very much," I commented, placing my hand softly to his temple stroking his eye softly. "Does this hurt?" I asked, feeling guilty, but also an inkling of gratification at the same time.

"No, but that doesn't you should stop," Erik answered cheekily with his eyes closed contently.

"Ugh, I can't believe you!" I exclaimed smiling, letting his head drop with a soft thud.

I stood up and slipped my sneakers back on walking out the gym. I shook my head at Erik's antics and I could hear him coming from behind me. An arm wrapped itself around my shoulder and I peered up at him with an eyebrow arched.

"You always hit harder when I insult you," Erik commented, a grin on his face. "I guess I know what I need to do now," he added, and I rolled my eyes.

I folded my arms together as we made our way down the hallway, "Why, so I can end up like you?" I asked, a smirk forming on my lips. "Always running head first into everything and almost getting yourself killed," I pointed out, looking up at him again. "Although, I will say you had one interesting technique earlier..." I trailed off.

"And what was that?"

I stood on my tiptoes and leaned into Erik, "When you kicked me...I felt that you wanted a different...body part there instead," I whispered, drawing back from him.

Erik froze and laughter bubbled from my throat at his face. His eyes were wide, a stunned expression played on his face as I watched his cheeks slightly flushed with red. I clasped my hands together in front of me, smiling wildly as I moved away from the stock-still body of Erik.

"Thanks for the training Erik!"

~~~x~~~

It was late in the afternoon, and it was finally my turn to fine tune my abilities.

"I know you hate the idea of doing this, but it's for your benefit Claudia," Charles began, holding my hand in his own and I furrowed my brow as to where this was going. "I need you to lower your barriers for me," he continued, making my eyes widened and nostrils flare.

"What!" I yelped, my breathing began to quicken, becoming shallow. "No!" I exclaimed, shaking my head as I attempted to tug my hand away from Charles', but he kept a firm, yet gentle grip on it.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't be afraid. I've got you," he assured, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "It will be one quick test and then we'll be done, okay?" Charles asked, a soft smile on his as he gave my hand a small squeeze.

He looked at me waiting for my response, but I turned my head away from his gaze. Still breathing rapidly I clenched my eyes shut, remembering the last time I trusted someone with my barriers lowered. But this was Charles. Charles was kind. Sweet. The opposite of him. He'd never have any ill-intentions with me. I took a deep, shaky breath as I calmed myself down. Suddenly, I felt two soft hands cup my face and slowly opened my eyes to meet Charles' eyes. I could see the twinkle in his eye that would cause many women to simper.

"Claudia," he breathed, looking at me. "I would never hurt you," Charles promised, using his thumbs to stroke my cheeks.

I opened my mouth to speak, but paused and looked down. I took another few deep breaths before looking up at him.

"One test?" I repeated softly.

Charles nodded, "You have my word," he stated.

I wrapped my arms around myself, slowly nodding my head, "Okay...I'll do it," I agreed, mustering up a weak smile.

Charles smiled as well, "You're going to be fine," he reassured, before planting his lips on top of my head.

Removing his hands from my face, he backed away from me just as the sound of footsteps came to a stop at the entrance of the library.

"Everything alright in here?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow and looking between Charles and I before resting one arm on the frame of the door.

Charles flashed him a smile, "We're fine, I was just reassuring Claudia about her training," he explained, rolling up his sleeves

"So, we're all set then?" Erik questioned, pushing off the frame and closing the door behind him.

I arched an eyebrow, "You knew about this too?" I asked, my eyes slightly widening.

Erik nodded, "Charles knew you would be uncomfortable with this, so he asked me to be here as well to lessen your anxiety," Erik explained, walking over to where Charles and I were.

"Now Claudia, I want you to focus very carefully. Use your emotions to try and block me out," Charles instructed. "I want to see how quickly you can raise your mental shield on command,"

My expression was tinged with worry, "And what if it goes wrong?" I asked, looking between the two men.

"It won't," Charles comforted me.

I took a deep breath, my brows knitting together, "Fine," I sighed, closing my eyes I began to slowly lower my mental shield letting my mind be filled with the raw sensations and feelings coming from everyone in the mansion. Reopening my eyes I faced Charles. "Ready?" I asked nervously, starting to play with my hands.

He nodded, "On my count okay?" Charles asked, and I exhaled loudly while nodding my head as well. "Three...Two...One..." he counted, before he lifted two fingers to his temple as I raised my mental shield.

My eyes fluttered closed as I summoned all of the anger and fear that was coursing through me to block Charles from my mind. A sharp pain ripped through my head and a gasp escaped from my lips as I opened my eyes. The room started to spin and slow down, and the next thing I know, it's gone black. When I wake up, I am lying on soft grass. Grass? I sit up, rubbing my head. Looking around I see Charles and Erik do the same. What happened? Where are we?

"Claudia!"

I turned around and saw a caucasian teenage boy with brown hair gelled to the side and horn-rimmed glasses walking towards me. He looked about seventeen. I gasped as I realized who it is.

"James?" I asked the boy, bewildered.

But he doesn't stop, he runs right through me, as if I wasn't even there. Standing up, I looked around. Everything's slightly misty and fuzzy, and it takes me a while to realize where we are. We're in the meadow I used to play in as a child. I watch as my childhood friend, James, ran towards a teenage girl with medium length, black hair.

"Who is that?" Erik asked, arching a brow.

"It's me," I whispered, as a lone tear slipped down my face as I recalled happier times.

James was the first person outside of my family I ever told about my mutation. We became very close friends. I always felt my mother and father thought I was a freak even though they said that I wasn't. Still, I isolated myself, spending hours in this very meadow, lying in the daisies next to the river. I watched as James and my younger self laugh about something hysterically, and a small laugh escaped my mouth.

"This is most peculiar..." Charles muttered.

Erik and Charles moved closer to me, unsure of what is going on. I smiled at my younger self's happiness. What I'd give to be like that again.

James rolled over to his side, and wrapped one arm around my younger self's waist and leaned down, kissing her. His kisses were always soft and comforting. James rolled over to lay on his back and said something that caused them both to laugh. Suddenly, five teenage boys appear in the meadow.

I recognize them immediately, and my mouth fell open in horror as I realized what I'm about to witness. Again.

"No..." I whispered, almost breathlessly. "No!" I screamed, much louder, and Charles grabbed my hand.

The leader of the teenage boys, stalking towards them and they both stand up as James pushed my younger self behind him. Within a blink of an eye, the leader of the group landed a vicious punch on James' face and he fell to the ground, his nose bleeding. The three teenage boys yanked her from her spot as the other pair of teenage boys grabbed the struggling James and pinned him against the tree on the river bank. While my younger self was having a heated debate with the teenage boys.

Although I couldn't hear it. I knew exactly what they're saying. The four boys had heard that James and I were dating, and they had to teach this "negro lover" a lesson. They wanted to get rid of him and I knew, I was next. I don't have time to close my eyes as the knife is thrust into James' stomach. I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the seventeen-year-old me. I could feel Charles recoil in horror and out of the corner of my eye I saw Erik had the same reaction. I watched, all over again, as James' body slumped lifelessly to the ground and the boys turn on me. Knowing what happens next.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and roughly threw her onto her back so that she was staring upwards into the faces of the three boys that were her age. One of them crouched over her, the one with those dead blue eyes, only now they were laughing in a way that made her scalp prickle with dread. The ringleader grabbed her by the arm and tugged her roughly off the ground.

"You know what, maybe our buddy James was onto something. She's pretty easy on the eyes for a negro," he rasped, an evil smirk forming on his lips as he tightened his grip around her arms.

And then before she knew it, he had grabbed her face in one of his meaty hands, and forced her mouth to his.

"Get off! Get off, get off, get off!" her thoughts screamed.

She tried to pull back with a mixture of shock and utter revulsion, but his friends were all around her, hands seizing her coat and hair, eager voices egging him on, laughing and leering as she struggled to break free. No one had been this close, without her permission. No one. And no one had the right to ever be this close, to ever touch her as he was doing now. His hand was on her waist and traveling even lower, and all she wanted was for him to stop it, stop it right now. She wriggled, clawed frantically, bucking and juddering against iron-clad hands like a rabbit caught in a snare, but he only mashed his face further into hers.

And suddenly there was so much rage contained inside her head, so much pure anger and hatred seething within her skull, that she felt that she might burst. Heat raced through her blood, a fire that she never felt before, that she hadn't allowed herself to feel in the pretense of being normal. But now this monster had crossed a line, was touching her in ways that left her feeling exposed and violated, like her skin had been torn away from her very soul to be gawked at. Murdering the boy she loved because he had the audacity to not care about her skin color and wanted to date her.

So perhaps this once she was at liberties to cross her very own line.

All she could see was red, as she pulled back furiously, lashing out in any way possible much to the amusement of my audience. Her skin grew warm, then hot, then boiling, thrumming with energy, the hairs along her arms rippling from the magnitude of it, far stronger than she could have possibly comprehended. Seventeen-year-old Claudia, in an enraged frenzy, outstretched her palm and a jolt of crackling purple energy roared from it, the distant ring of screaming in her ears, a warm tingle that played over her skin as the remaining energy fizzled and dissolved, melting back into the nothingness from which it had erupted.

Then...silence.

When the filter of red was lifted from her eyes and she dazedly took in her surroundings. One of the boys was at the base of a the tree, he wasn't moving and his neck looked deformed, the other boy was knocked into the river unconscious. Their ringleader's face was puffy and blistered, having borne the brunt of the attack, pus oozing from the more severe of the burns. She turned her head to see a deputy sprinting towards her, yelling for me to run. It was James' older brother John. By this point, John had reached her and she had a horrified expression on her face, matching the other teenage boy's as John tried pulling her away.

"Not only is she a negro, she's a freak!" One of the two remaining boys hurled the insult toward her.

She snapped back and yelled something at them and instantly one boy turned toward the river. Then, with no explanation, lowered his head into water and he drowned himself. The boy that murdered James took the knife that he was holding and slid it across his throat, silting his throat from ear to ear and a crimson liquid spilled from his throat, before he dropped to the ground.

She grabbed John by the chin and began to speak to him in a hurried tone, as if he had fallen into a daze, he gave a sluggish nod, and then slowly walked back towards his car to call in the crime scene.

My stomach churned and my heart pounded fiercely against my chest just as the image shifted and I let out a shaky breath, gasping for air. The memory had always haunted me, but I never thought I would have to witness James' murder again. As our surroundings change into a busy street. I had tears in my eyes, and I furiously wiped them away as new ones came trickling down my cheek. I turned and saw that Charles and Erik were staring at me. Charles' eyes were glazed as if he wanted to cry and Erik just looking at me with something like pity.

"What's happening?" I yelled at Charles.

"I must have pushed into your mind, your empathy mutation is allowing us to see your memories," he speculated.

Slowly, I spun around taking in our new surroundings, it was growing close to springtime and the streets of Washington D.C. were chalk full of busy people, rushing to get to somewhere they needed to be. Men and women hurried from work to get home, the elderly fed pigeons, and kids ran off out of their schools. It seemed like everyone had somewhere to go.

I let out jagged breaths as I shook my head now remembering why this day was a significant memory for me. A large hand laid down on my shoulder and I whipped around to see Erik standing next to me, looking mildly concerned.

"I'm fine," I stated automatically, pushing my hair out of my face with a shaky hand.

Erik looked unconvinced, but unsure of what exactly to do. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted when I gave out another gasp. I stepped closer to the wide window in front of us and peered in.

There was a young woman sitting at a table, absentmindedly running her finger along the rough wood of the tabletop next to her novel. She had lived there for almost two years and frankly was growing rather restless. It had been about a month, or maybe two since her boyfriend broke up with her because she was a mutant. She looked out the window that she was seated next to, watching as people walked by enjoying the company of others.

That was until she felt like she was being watched, her head snapped from the window and landed on a tall, tawny brown skin man. His dark brown eyes watching her curiously behind his round frames. His crisp white shirt stood out against the dim lit bar along with his smart grey slacks. Slowly, the man approached her and slid into the empty seat across from her, now she could fully see how handsome this stranger was. It was clear that the man was fit, you could the outline of his muscles underneath his shirt.

"Hello. Are you Claudia Walker?" she nodded slowly, and the man watched as her eyes became guarded.

The open book lay forgotten next to her.

"Who wants to know?" Claudia asked back, and the man smiled despite her rude and blunt attitude.

"My name is Professor Harry Lewis, I teach at Howard, and Miss Walker I believed you are a very gifted young woman," he complimented, flashing her with another smile.

She wanted to tell him that what she has wasn't a gift. It was a curse. But she didn't.

"Um, thank you Professor, but I-uh I promise that I'm not that gifted. My academics are great, but it's not better some of the students at the university," she pointed out.

"You think I'm talking about your academic performance Miss Walker? Oh, no, no, I'm talking what really makes you special, my dear,"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stated, feigning a perplexed expression which was also expressed in her tone of voice.

Professor Lewis reached across the table and gently grasped her hand, his cold hands caressed her heated skin.

"I really do know what you are, Claudia Walker. I am here to help you, not hurt you,"

She jumped, it was Professor Lewis' voice, but in her mind? Maybe it wasn't, maybe she was going crazy.

"I can assure you, your sanity isn't to be questioned,"

There it was, again.

"Whatever you want. I want no part in it. I just want to live a normal life!" She whispered harshly, and went to stand up.

Professor Lewis gently tugged her back down with his hand, "Listen, let me explain first," he said, and Claudia slowly sat back down as he let go her hand. Professor Lewis slid from his seat across from Claudia and sat next to her. "Thank you," he sighed, turning his body to face her. "I didn't mean to intrude, but I heard your thoughts a few days ago about not having enough money to finish college, and I thought I could be of assistance,"

"How?"

"I'm running a lab for people like us, all you have to do is participate in some tests and then poof, your financial aid problems are gone," he explained, a charming smile appearing on his full lips, where a tiny gap between his front teeth could be seen. "And who knows, maybe I can teach you how to control your abilities better," he added, with a shrug. "I am a professor, after all," he joked, maintaining his smile.

And now he had her intrigued – what if there was a way? What if she could manage some semblance of control over this? What if some day she could look into someone's eyes without the fear of experiencing pain and rage and despair and love and roiling, frothing emotion trying to burn her alive?

"Sign me up," she answered quickly.

Professor Lewis clapped his hands together, a smile on his face, "Wonderful!" he cheered happily. "Now tell me about your powers Claudia," he stated.

"Well with my empathy, I guess I entrance people if I focus hard enough," she answered unsurely. "And there are times when my emotions affects everybody I'm in the room with," she explained.

"Wow," Professor Lewis commented, almost like he was very eager to please her. "So, you can control people?" he questioned curiously.

She bit her lip, "I've always hated that word when it comes to describing my ability," she said, letting out a nervous chuckle and turning away.

Professor Lewis grabbed gently by her chin with one of his cold hands. A shudder went through her and heat flushed in her cheeks.

"Embrace it Claudia, because you have the power to influence the world around you," he encouraged, before releasing her chin. After another deep look into her eyes he took her hand and raised it to his lips. "My dear, you and I are going to accomplish great things together," he whispered and his lips softly touched her knuckles, which caused her cheeks heat up even more. He rose elegantly to his feet and with a last look at her he turned around and started to walk away, leaving her confused.

My ankles wobbled to the side as I stumbled back a few steps from the diner window. I would have fell to the ground had it not been for two pair of arms steadying me onto my feet.

"Claudia, who is he?" Erik asked softly, and I looked up at him with effort.

"A horrible mistake,"

Chapter Fourteen: A Never-Ending Nightmare

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #erik lehnsherr x oc #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #black!reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic

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olivieblake · 4 years ago

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KSIGJICNRJCNEHCBD HELLO HELLO WELCOME TO THE HELL THAT IS KNOWING ZUTARA IS EVERYTHING AND SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN AS SUCH !!!! wow i love that you are as angry as i was (and am every rewatch? yikes) this is amazing i knew you're my favorite but yeah wow man this really. confirms it whew high five

yeah it’s pretty wild how I knew this was what happened and was already bracing for it and yet STILL got completely misled by the narrative??? MEN I tell you MEN. I’m also going to use this ask as a method to reply to some of the other commentary if you don’t mind since this seems like a good place for communal frustration (here is my original post for anyone scrolling around lost)

@meg-hemmings: I agree with all of ur thoughts and I would TOTALLY read anything you wrote for Zutara … your writing is among my absolute favorite ever and I think you would write the Zutara dynamic so beautifully!

@one-man-propaganda-machine: I am - begging - you to write it yourself.

I... am not going to make promises, but I may have to. I want something very specific and that never bodes well for me. I doubt it would be more than a one-shot, but there are multiple scenes that could have occurred between episodes that would flesh out what was there (and of course I’d cut the final 15 seconds of the show, much like another epilogue I loathe and ignore)

@deifiliaa: omg atla discourse in 2021; olivie, i’d love to see what your character tier list looks like now that you’ve finished the series 👀

I’m going to put azula at the top. not because she’s a good person obviously but she’s FULL. OF. HITS. every time she’s on the screen the narrative gets immediately more interesting. she’s savvy and self-assured and I love it. her ending depressed me although I like that it was kind of about the loss of her two best friends? if that had been more of a focus I think I would have enjoyed it more but yeah, losing mai and ty lee could have been rightfully devastating. who among us is not totally obliterated by friend breakups. I also really loved uncle iroh; if anything that’s why I wasn’t invested in zuko’s storyline until close to the end, because watching him disappoint his uncle was very difficult (I get it, he’s a teenager, he’s growing and evolving and whatnot, but also I am closer to being his uncle than to being him so like, yeah). I also hope the peter pan revenge guy (JET that’s his name, sorry pregnancy kills my brain cells) did hook up with both katara and zuko. I love that journey for all three of them. I wanted more time with mai than we got, so there wasn’t quite enough there to love... but I was very down with ty lee interfering on her behalf. what a pivotal moment

of the core characters I think I was quickest to love sokka; the episode where he apologizes to suki and asks her to train him cemented it for me. I think it’s a big deal to show boys apologizing on-screen and owning their misconceptions. I like katara a lot—she’s what a lot of people do with fanon hermione. toph is also great, and part of me feels there is a strong basis for a ship with aang that balances their opposing energy, though I also like the idea of them being platonic besties. aang is... twelve. pretty much every time he was on the screen mr blake (a teacher) was like “man, aang is such a seventh grader,” so it was nice how convincing that was for his emotional journey, but at the same time it was hard to forget he was in seventh grade. appa and momo are STARS. I am sure I have mentioned this before but mr blake really loves animals and he was devastated by appa’s kidnapping; he hugged our dog for about ten minutes after aang found appa. after he decided I was zuko, he speculated that he is closest to aang but he’s not happy about it lol. “ugh, aang and I are such boring pacifists” was I believe his take on the subject

@libbynico, who for some reason I can’t tag: so true! katara was literally something like a mother/older sister figure to aang the entire time, but whatever

yeah, I think it really sucks that katara, as the emotionally nurturing character, felt shoved into the role of love interest. it’s everything wrong with the distribution of emotional labor in male-female relationships but sure, WHATEVER, apparently nobody thought to ask me in 2008

@touslesnoms: I liked “such selfish prayers” by andromeda3116 if you ever decide to read zutara after the series; the worst prisoner by emletish is super funny too

thanks for the recs! I will take them. I do want something very specific so I will be accepting recs until I find it lol. or until I lose composure and write it (yeah this is me WITH my composure, no wonder mr blake thinks I’m zuko, “I’m never happy” indeed)

@gaeleria: THANK YOU!!! Ugh omg that “I’m confused” kiss scene made me actively hate the ending. I knew ahead of time they were endgame, so I tried to make myself accept it early on. Like, I really didn’t like the pairing, but I wasn’t going to be emotionally invested in the romance and it was just going to be like, whatevs. AND THEN THEY WROTE THAT SCENE??! 1000% no. What was even the point of that scene? If they had written it to make Aang have some introspection and realize it’s not all about him, Katara’s feelings matter too, or even apologize, or anything… but no, there was literally no point to that scene. No character growth, it was never mentioned again. Ugh.

this is in answer to both you and beloved @zabbini: yeah this was a fuck-up for sure lol. I think it may come down to editing for time; the series is very irregularly paced, what with the majority of the action taking place in the final three episodes of a 16 episode season. or maybe it’s just because MEN CAN’T BE TRUSTED TO WRITE ROMANCE but either way yeah this was a real misstep and just truly, truly reeked of a particular (white) male attitude about how women think and what they owe. had a bad day, dudes? buy a gun, kiss your forever girl, do whatever you want and it’s fine! (I’m exaggerating but barely)

in terms of what’s so angering for me: a character like katara who previously had tons of agency was robbed of it when it came to her romantic arc, which is just really upsetting. and to be fair, I was equally upset when zuko instantly agreed to the agni kai with azula because it was like okay well katara’s extremely valuable, as you know, but now you want her to just sit on the sidelines...? (more of a story flaw than a relationship flaw, but my chest sunk a little at the idea that katara was going to sit by and watch as an accessory to zuko’s story when she’s a crucial weapon in their collective fight. what a waste, right?)

it’s also especially hard to buy into the aang thing when zuko’s method of problem-solving on katara’s behalf is there for comparison. he asks her what she needs in order to find closure and then from there, does everything necessary to get it without having to be asked twice. versus aang, who is a twelve-year-old pair of rogue lips who never wins any of his fights without the aid of phenomenal cosmic powers...? ugh I’m getting off track but in the end there’s just a complete lack of understanding what female audiences want, though again, I don’t think they were really considering that at all. which I guess is... fair, it’s not the point of the show, but then why make the ending romantic at all? to show that their brand of hero gets everything he wants, I guess

in conclusion in 2008 I’m not sure the industry was capable of doing better, which sucks but isn’t surprising. still, it does fit the components of “stuff I write fics for,” which is I enjoyed most of it but find myself enraged by slivers I compulsively need to fix—WHICH IS STILL NOT A PROMISE but ugh I can already feel myself giving in

#avatar the last airbender #zabbini

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walkwithheroes84 · 4 years ago

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Immortals After Dark (Half Way) Series Thoughts And Couples Ranked

I started reading the Immortals After Dark series by Kresley Cole on February 5th, 2021. In the last twelve days, I've read roughly half the series. And, believe me, I was crushed to find out that the last book was released in 2017. The fandom is dead and the author - whether due to publisher issues, health issues, or a mixture of both - hasn’t been active on any social media platforms since 2019.

I have some mixed feelings on the series, but since I have no one to share them with, I’ve decided to put them here. I chose to read this series because I liked the idea of it: immortal beings, preparing for a major “battle”, all while dealing with last-minute villains and finding their true soulmates. Yeah, I’ll read that. So, what have I liked about the series?

Let’s start with the fact that it is very clear that Kresley Cole had a major game plan in mind. Hints of future books, hints of storylines, and future important characters are introduced in every book. Since most of the novels take place around (or even at the same time) readers are often given several perspectives of the same events. Someone who seemed like a no-so-great person in one novel is shown to be a better person two novels later - because we now know their backstory and what makes them tick. A character might offhandedly mention something in a novel (example: Garreth mentioning Lucia is his destined mate in book one) and it comes full circle in another novel - we get to see that story play out.

Even if your favorite character plays a minor or side role in one novel, there is a great chance they will be a main character at some point in the series. And, as someone who often loves the side characters more than the main characters, that was a nice surprise for me.

It’s also fairly clear that Cole took some time in developing the different (major) groups within the Lore: who they are, what they can do, who they are friendly with, etc. That was a nice detail that I liked, especially as it didn’t really change in the novels I’ve read. And to be honest, in such a long series, it would be very easy for an author to forget smaller details. But, I don’t think Cole has - yet.

There were some things I didn’t like, of course. Having read books 1-7 and then 9-10 (I don’t have access to book 8 yet) in the span of twelve days - it is so painfully clear that Cole has a formula she likes to work with.

Most of her novels play out the same way: ML and FL meet. An attraction forms, with the ML realizing that the FL is his destined mate/Bride/whatever. They fight, he chases her, they fight some more, there is a bit of sex, there is a misunderstanding, he’s possessive, they fight and have sex, there is something terrible looming in the background that gets quickly taken care of in the last 50 or so pages, they fight again, they makeup and then they ride off into the sunset until they have a few cameos in other couples’ novels. It’s painfully predictable at times, and in truth it works well with some couples and not so well with others. So, I do like when Cole changes things a bit. (See book ten, Dreams of a Dark Warrior, for example.)

I also have to fully admit that some of the Alpha males, who were so possessive, running around calling women “Mine,” while being borderline abusive or/and manipulative at times turned me off. That kind of guy is just not my cup of tea. So, I’m sad to say I have not (as of yet) been a huge fan of the Lykae and the way they tend to treat their fated mates.

That said, I’d like to go over each couple and rank them.

09. Emma Troy and Lachlain MacRieve from A Hunger Like No Other (Book 1): I almost stopped reading because of this couple. I understand that he was tortured and hurt by vampires for years, but he was so awful toward Emma when he thought she was a full blooded vampire! He demanded she touch him in exchange for a phone call! It was so clear that she was scared, and because of his own trauma, he did nothing to calm her. Not a fan.

08. Sabine, Sorceress of Illusions and Rydstrom Woede from Kiss of a Demon King (Book 6): While I liked them as characters, their relationship just felt very toxic to me. At times I was even uncomfortable with the way they treated one another. From reviews I can tell that a lot of people like them, so I may go back to this novel once I have finished the series.

07. Holly the Bright and Cadeon Woede from Dark Desires After Dark (Book 5): Cadeon was fine. Holly was fine. But - he was going to sell her out! I can’t get behind that. In the end, they did win me over, but I just felt (at times) that Holly could be a bit boring and that Cadeon’s betrayal (while somewhat understandable) was too much.

06: Mariketa the Awaited and Bowen MacRieve from Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night (Book 3): Mari was stronger than Emma in dealing with her Lykae and because Bowen thought his feelings were a spell he wasn’t as possessive with Mari as Lachlian had been with Emma. Mari and Bowen had a bit of humor in their relationship, a bit of teasing and they were just...fun. I enjoyed their interactions before and after they were together. Do I think Mari forgave him way too easily? Yes. Do I think their issues were solved too easily? Yes. But, my goodness, I still enjoyed them.

05. Kaderin the Cold/Kind Hearted and Sebastian Wroth from No Rest for the Wicked (Book 2): This is a weird one, because I can’t really tell you why they made my top 5, but they did. I liked Sebastain and the way he just wanted to make Kaderin happy. I loved that Kaderin was not the damsel in distress that some of the other heroines had been throughout the series. In fact, I would dare say that it was Kaderin who was leading the romance instead of Sebastian, which was a nice change of pace in this series.

04: Daniela the Ice Maiden and Murdoch Wroth from Untouched (Book 7): I really loved the setup here: when Murdoch had been alive, he had been a, well, he slept with a lot of women. Dani is a virgin at 2000 years old. Why? Because she is half Icere Fey, which means when anyone touches her skin they freeze and she burns. Dani also happens to be Murdoch’s Bride, which means after 300 years of no sex (or interest in sex) Murodch suddenly wants to have sex - with Dani - who can’t. They have a lot of back and forth, push and pull. They find some very creative ways to be together without actually touching. And, for some weird reason I really enjoyed them. They weren’t the typical story in this series and I liked that.

03: Carrow Graie and Malkom Slaine from Demon From the Dark (Book 9): Me, Tarzan. You, Jane. That’s what seems to come to mind for a lot of people who read this one. Malkom is a seriously traumatized demon/vampire, who knows nothing of the world and is somehow really sweet toward Carrow. Carrow is a witch, who's seen it all and done a lot of it. She’s using him to save her adopted daughter, but Carrow falls for Malkom. And it’s a weirdly sweet and cute story.

02:Néomi Laress and Conrad Wroth from Dark Needs at Night’s Edge (Book 4): A ghost and a vampire. Who knew I’d love them so much. It’s even better, because she’s his Bride, but she’s dead...so they can’t get physical. Instead they talk and get to know one another. She was a woman of the world, and he’s a half-crazed vampire bounty hunter, who was once a virginal vampire bounty hunter. She flirts and teases and he is angsty. They are basically perfect.

01:Regin the Radiant and Declan Chase (Aidan the Fierce) from Dreams of a Dark Warrior (Book 10): Chef’s kiss. Regin does not take crap from Declan and he actually has to work to win back her trust. Declan is a mess, but it’s not used as an excuse for his misdeeds. Yes, he has had a traumatic past and he has been brainwashed, but his actions are not excused by Regin - especially when he goes back on his word. Declan has to fight for Regin, just as much as she has to fit for him. I loved them.

I have book 8 on the way, I already have books 11, 13-15, and book 18. I’ll be buying books 12, 16, and 17 soon-ish. While the series has some flaws, I do like it overall. The books are really quick reads for me and overall I like the overarching story and a lot of the characters. I’m rather disappointed that nothing new has come out in four years and that Cole has fallen off the grid. I know she had books 18 and 19 planned, and reportedly book 18 is finished. I hope it is able to be published someday.

#immortals after dark #kresley cole #iad

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: Kismet {5}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot Heavy, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Flirtation

Words: 4.5k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

-Aliya-

By the time you left the restaurant, it was midnight. Henry opened the door for you to walk through, finishing up a childhood story.

“And that is why my brother refuses to sleep in the guesthouse anymore,” he finished.

You released a loud laugh, throwing your head back. “Wow. So the guesthouse is haunted.”

“He sure thinks so,” Henry said with a smile.

“A lot of outsiders think everywhere in Ireland is haunted,” you informed.

“Same with outsiders and Scotland.”

“Funny.”

“How often do you go to Ireland?”

“I try at least once a year. Whenever I have an album that comes out, I either go there or Australia to unplug from the world,” you explained as you leaned on the window of the restaurant, facing him.

“Why?”

“Releasing an album is weird. It’s all so personal, and keeping track of it’s standing is nerve-wracking. I like to go away, ignore my phone, and just chill for a few days.”

“That’s an interesting strategy.”

Silence fell between you, a comfortable one.

“Feels like a nice night. Can I take you somewhere?”

“Depends. Where is this somewhere?”

“You’re going to have to trust me.”

With the mention of the T-word, you sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know you,” you piped up.

Henry took a step closer to you, leaving only a few inches between you. “Get to know me.”

“Isn’t that what I’m going?” He smiled again and bit his bottom lip. Your eyes dropped to them and stayed there.

“Is it? Kinda feels like you’re searching for reasons,” he whispered.

“Reasons for what?”

He was so close. All you had to do was tip onto your toes, and your lips would touch. He studied you, but you had no idea what he was thinking. You watched him lick his lips and quickly got lost in how he did it.

“Can I take you somewhere?”

His voice was so deep, so husky that your belly quivered.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Henry’s eyes dropped to your lips as he spoke. “You’ll like it, don’t worry.” Then he backed away, allowing the air around you to cool.

“I bet I will,” you whispered, but he heard it and chuckled.

“Where’d you park?”

“I didn’t drive tonight.”

“Chauffeured?”

“The only way for a lady to travel,” you joked with a small curtsy.

“Are you all right taking my car then?”

“I’ve been taught not to get in the car of anyone whose character I’m unsure of. They could kill me or rape me.

Henry scoffed then laughed into the night air.

“Well, you’ve been taught correctly.”

“Ah, see.”

Again he leaned closer to you. “Luckily, I’m not interested in killing or raping you.”

“Oh no? then what are you interested in when it comes to me?”

The way he stared at you had you feeling a way you’d never felt before. It was something you couldn’t put your finger on, something you didn’t quite understand.

“All shall reveal itself in due time,” Henry whispered.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “Spoken like a true brit.”

Henry shrugged and led you to his car, which was parked across the lot. As you got closer, your jaw dropped.

“Wow. A Porsche 911 GT1 Turbo?”

“You know cars?”

“Are you kidding? This baby is one sexy beast. 3.8L 6-cylinder engine, zero to sixty in just over three seconds, top speed at two hundred and five miles per hour which was dethroned as the fastest when the Spyder came around,” you boasted.

Henry’s mouth was wide as he gaped at you.

“I think that is the sexiest thing a woman has ever said to me.”

The two of you laughed together as he opened the passenger door for you to slide in. You marveled at the interior beginning at the stunning dash and the stick shift and ending on the smooth expensive leather finish. It was a gorgeous car.

“This is so gorgeous. Wow.” You looked at him, and he still looked shocked. “Did I freak you out now?”

“No, far from it,” Henry answered as he turned on the engine, which excited you more than it should have.

“Hold on, I like to go fast,” he warned, staring into your eyes. That was an innuendo if you’d ever heard one, and it did the trick to set your nether regions on fire.

As he drove, you paid close attention to how he handled the wheel and commanded the car to do as he wished. It was sexy how he switched lanes and easily handled LA traffic. After barely ten minutes of driving, your legs were crossed and clenched tightly with your hand squeezing your knee, begging it to remain closed.

When Henry turned off the engine, you saw he’d pulled up to the beach.

“The beach.”

“Not just the beach. Let me show you.”

He was the first to get out and come around for you. When he opened the door, he held his hand out for you to take. When you stepped out, you looked around expecting to see a carnival or something extraordinary. All you saw was an empty parking lot and an abandoned beach.

“Ready?

“Where are we going?”

Henry pointed out to the sand, and that was when our eyes widened.

“Oh, I’m not really wearing the right shoes.”

“So it would seem.”

You leaned on the side of his car only to bolt upright again. “I mean no disrespect putting my ass on your car.”

Henry snorted. “It’s the most action it’s seen.”

You giggled, something you’d been doing a lot of since meeting him.

“Can you?” You held your clutch out to him, silently asking if he could hold it. When he took it, you bent down and unzipped the back of your heels, taking them off one at a time. When you stood again, you were several inches shorter than you were before.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you exasperated.

“You’re short. Aww, it’s so cute,” Henry teased.

“Stop.”

“It’s adorable and sprite-like,” he continued.

You tried to stifle your laugh but couldn’t. “It’s not my fault you’re freakishly tall.”

“I’m a freak now?”

“You’re really tall. How tall?”

“Six-one-ish, more six-two.”

“Wow. That is a whole twelve inches more than me.”

“I bet it’s not hard for most people to be taller than you,” he teased some more.

You gasped, pressing your hand to your chest. “Wow, you have jokes.”

His smile was adorkable, and you loved it. “Would you like to leave them behind?”

You nodded, and Henry opened the car and placed them on the floor of the passenger side. “Never knew how women could stand to walk in these things.”

“It’s a craft,” you responded. He held up your clutch nonverbally asking if you wanted to leave it as well. With your nod, he put it on the seat, then shut and locked the door again.

“Cold?”

“I’ll be okay.”

As if not liking the answer, he slipped off his blazer and draped it over your shoulders.

“Thank you.”

“Ready?”

You nodded and followed him to the rope to the beach. The two of you stepped over it and followed the path as it led toward the rocks of the beach.

“Rock climbing too? Goody.”

“If you’re from Australia, I’m sure you’ve done some climbing on rocks,” Henry teased.

You shrugged, “A bit.”

Henry’s smile showed off his perfectly imperfect teeth. You loved that he looked so put together and perfect in theory, but once you took a closer look, he really wasn’t. The two of you continued climbing the rocky peaks. Every move you made, Henry’s hand was there to help you along the way. The perfect gentleman, you thought. You could tell by the way he moved that he was used to strenuous physical activity. With the thought of strenuous activities, your head immediately dropped to his crotch. As soon as your eyes dipped, you brought them back up to find Henry’s eyes on yours. You’d been caught. He didn’t speak though. He just kept the soft smile on his lips.

You watched him take a giant step up one of the boulders and marveled at how strong his legs looked. When he turned, he held his hand out to you. Without hesitating, you took it, and your knees nearly buckled when he effortlessly pulled you up to stand beside him. You knew what you expected, especially seeing how colossal his biceps were through his suit jacket, but when he really demonstrated that strength, it boggled your mind. He was strong, strong.

“Down we go,” Henry said before he jumped down to the sand behind the boulder. You stood there, staring down at him like he was insane. This was not what you had in mind when you agreed to dinner.

“Are you sure you don’t want to kill me? This looks like the perfect place to hide a body.”

Henry lifted his hands into the air in surrender and spoke with that sly, adorable grin. “I promise.” He held out his hands, indicating he intended to lift you down.

You scoffed, looked around, and sighed, deciding to just go with it. As he slowly lifted you down, you didn’t know whether to stare into his impossibly deep eyes or at his bulging biceps. They were both equally appealing options. When he lowered you to the sand, your bodies were close but not touching. The urge to step into him overwhelmed you, especially the longer his hands lingered on your waist. The look on Henry’s face was one you couldn’t decipher. He looked as if he were in deep thought, but he also looked like he was conflicted over something.

“Eh-em, thank you,” you stuttered, taking a step back from him.

“Right this way.”

Henry walked ahead toward a cave. The black woman in you stopped and watched in caution. He wanted you to follow him this late at night, into a dark cave on a part of the beach no one seemed to know about. Henry glanced back at you, and warmly smiled. It was good enough for one part of you, and that was the part that controlled your legs. As you walked inside, your jaw dropped seeing it was lite up. All around the cave walls and ceiling, there were lights similar to Christmas tree lights. In the center of the cave, there was an opening that showed the perfect glowing moon. It was breathtaking.

“Wow.”

You aimlessly wandered around the cave looking closely at the walls; being unable to not touch, you grazed your fingers along the walls taking in every little detail.

“How did you find this place?”

“When I’m in town, I like to keep my normal routine, so I jog. I prefer the beach; it reminds me of Jersey early in the morning with the fog rolling . I like to be down this side of the beach because there are not really a lot of people, so no one recognizes me. I found it one day, and ever since, I’ve been coming whenever I am in town.”

“This is beautiful,” you continued to marvel.

“It is.”

You walked toward the center of the cave and gazed up at the moon. “Especially the moon shining down. That’s probably my favorite part.”

“Mine too.” His words had you looking to him. Meeting his eyes, the two of you stared at each other for several moments.

“So, you’re a jogger.”

“I am.”

“Which means you don’t do the gym?”

You began wandering around the cave again.

“I do. I have a personal trainer who helps me stay in Superman and Witcher shape,” Henry confirmed as he also began wandering around the cave in the opposite direction that you were.

The two of you were now circling each other in a completely non-threatening way, but though it wasn’t threatening, the tension around you increased with every step the two of you took.

“Do you work out?”

“I do. Not a lot or a crazy amount, though.”

Henry passed you, and you could feel his eyes on you. “Guess it’s natural.”

That was all it took for goosebumps to break out all across your skin and butterflies to flutter in your belly. The man was effortlessly charming. You walked toward a small puddle of water, stepped into it, and began swirling it around with your feet. You desperately needed something to channel your anxious energy into.

“So living in Jersey must mean you like the beach.”

Henry nodded, “I do. When I go home, I go a lot.”

“I like the beach too. It might be because I grew up near water, but whatever reason it calms me.”

When you looked back to him, he was already staring at you. The more he stared, the more you swirled the water around. He made you nervous, but it wasn’t a bad nervous where you were worried about his next move. It was more nervousness from anxiety of his effect on you. with your eyes turned downward, you could still feel his eyes on you.

“What? Why are you staring at me?”

Though you didn’t hear his footsteps, you felt the distance between you closing. Swallowing the butterflies that were increasing their flight, you looked to him and watched him approach. He looked like Mr. Darcy did when he was crossing the open field at dawn, trying to make his way to Elizabeth. Your palm itched to touch.

“How can I not stare?”

Your soft gasp echoed in the cave as he closed the remaining few feet between you.

“You’re breathtaking. The moment I bumped into you, I felt something I’d never felt before. It was like I’d been shot with a taser. I’d never experienced anything like that before,” Henry spoke.

It wasn’t verbatim Jane Austen, but it was close enough. Your breathing betrayed you and gave away your anxiousness. You were quickly becoming lost in his eyes, lost in the tension of the moment.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

Henry’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and that had you licking your lips before you bit down onto your bottom one.

“I’ve never been tased before.” It was the only thing that you could think of to say.

A soft smile teased his lips, and he took yet another step to you. He was not mere inches from you. If you took a step forward, your bodies would touch, and from there, you could imagine where that would lead.

“Well, I have,” Henry began with a heart-pounding deepness in his voice. “It’s like a billion currents of electricity running through your body continuously for a long period of time. It feels as if these currents of electricity are charging your cells, enlarging them, and minimizing them over and over. You feel like you’re going to die, to be honest. It’s excruciating,” Henry finished.

The depth of his voice was having an effect and the fact that every few words he spoke, he spoke in a whisper which gave you the scent of the drink he’d had at dinner an hour ago. He was not only devastatingly handsome, charming, and sexy, but the chemistry between you was so palpable that you too felt like you could die from it alone.

“So you felt pain,” you stated.

“I did, but it was mixed with something else entirely.”

It was your turn to look at his mouth. When you did, you quickly realized it was a huge mistake. Your lips tingled. They wanted to know the feel of him. That was a first, you thought.

“What else?” It was a whisper, and it was all you could muster.

“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Meeting his eyes, your gazes lingered. “Was it pleasure?”

Henry’s breathing mimicked yours. The quick rise and fall of his chest told you his heart might have been racing as quickly as yours.

“Was that what you felt?”

You couldn’t answer him. You really didn’t know what the answer to that question was right now. Your head was clouded, your heart racing and your hormones were bouncing around like haywire tennis balls that were just released from their containers. You felt your body drift back, but felt Henry’s arms wrap around you to hold you firmly against his body. Again, your eyes met. You saw the question in them.

“I don’t know—I don’t know what I felt,” you admitted.

Henry searched your eyes for several moments, but he didn’t release you.

“I think you do, and it was as new and different for you as it was for me.”

The urge to kiss him overcame you, and your knees nearly buckled from it. It had been years since you’d thought about anything like this apart from work. The last time you romantically kissed someone because you felt something for them rather than a lingering expectation or needed distraction was so long ago. You’d vowed to keep it that way. Not to mention you never kissed anyone on the second date. It was a rule.

You bit your bottom lip and loved that his eyes were glued to your mouth. It increased the desire you had to lay one on him and find out just how soft his lips really were. At that moment, Henry lifted his hand and slowly brushed back your hair to softly caress your cheek. You felt your nipples bead and prayed to God that he couldn’t feel them. Lowering your eyes to the sliver of exposed skin right under his collar, you used the time to try to gather your senses.

Henry nudged your face back to his with his finger underneath your chin.

“You have incredible eyes,” Henry whispered.

“Says the pot to the kettle.” His smile was genuine, and with it, you were a goner.

When he lowered his face to yours, you didn’t move. Truth be told, you wanted this, so you inched closer to his descending lips. Once you were just centimeters from each other, your senses returned. You pressed your eyes closed then placed your hands on his chest to keep him at bay. Without protest, Henry stopped.

“I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“It’s a good thing it’s our second,” Henry replied.

“I don’t kiss on the second either,” you added with your eyes still closed. It wasn’t that you were afraid of his reaction. You were desperately trying to get a grip so you could finish out the rest of this night the way you’d intended. You didn’t want to be pressed against the wall of this cave as he fucked you till you couldn’t walk back to the car. That was not what this was. That was not who you were. Not anymore.

When you did open your eyes and looked into those hypnotizing ocean blue eyes, you knew you hadn’t gotten a grip at all. You flexed your fingers against his chest and realized just how muscular he was. Dropping your eyes to his chest, your fingers continued to move of their own volition. You understood. This was all him. He was all muscle.

“Oh, crap.”

Realizing just what you were doing, you stepped away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize I was—I’m sorry.”

Henry nodded, “It’s all right. Nothing to be sorry for. I respect your boundaries.”

Your stomach fell. You turned your back to him, pretending to look more at the lit walls, but you weren’t looking at them. You’d hoped he wouldn’t have been understanding about your boundaries. It would have made it easier to leave without feeling the steady pangs of temptation.

“Do you?”

“Of course. No matter how much I want to kiss you, I respect you and your boundaries. I will not force myself on you. You can trust me on that. I give you my word,” Henry boldly avowed.

The more he spoke, the lower those said boundaries fell.

“You can trust me in that, Aliya,” he softly finished.

With those final words, what you’d said barely two minutes ago was out the window.

“Oh, screw it!”

You quickly turned and rushed to him, practically pouncing him like an in heat Puma. Henry welcomingly wrapped his arms around you and stared into your eyes. Another question rested there.

“I don’t want this if this isn’t what you want,” he assured.

“I thought you go after what you want; no questions asked,” you partly teased.

His smile prompted yours. “And you always get what you want.”

“I do,” you confirmed.

Henry smiled again before your lips touched. From the moment they did, you felt that electrical current feeling he spoke of. It was intense, exhilarating, and excruciating. Slowly Henry teased your tongue with his by coiling around it to retreat and do it again. By the third time, you’d moaned on him. His grip around your waist and back tightened, and the kiss deepened. He looked like a passionate man, but if you were going by his kiss, you’d greatly underestimated how passionate. The way he kissed you increased the pull you’d felt to him since bumping into him a few weeks ago. To your shock, you wanted more. Henry’s moan reverberated off your chest and sparked your arousal so much that your nipples pulsated, begging for his touch.

This was insanely unexpected; you thought before you slowly pulled back, an action Henry did along with you. Keeping your eyes closed, you allowed the feels to sink in and wrap around you. They were feels that were new, feels that felt had your hand shaking.

“We should go,” you whispered.

“We should,” Henry quickly agreed.

~~~~~~~~

On the drive, you tried to keep your freak out at bay. You tried to push away thoughts of rehashing just what happened in the cave. It was next to impossible because the entire drive was silent. He must have been lost in his thoughts as well. When you did think about it, you couldn’t find an ounce of regret. Oppositely you loved it and only regretted stopping. That was what tripped you up. It was insane to think about because you’d broken a rule and were in the middle of breaking yet another one as he drove you home.

Your eyes continued to glance over to his hands on the steering wheel before they dropped to his spread thighs. He had the perfect thighs for straddling. The thought of the size of them and the amount of space you’d already calculated would fit you nicely easily set you off. The man’s lap was meant to be sat on and without clothes. Thankfully before you got way too lost in your sinful thoughts, you saw Henry pulling toward your gated entrance. You pulled out your phone and entered the code to your gate on the security app. Once you did, the wrought iron gates opened for him to pull into your driveway.

Henry’s whistle brought your attention to his face.

“Wow, doing really well for yourself, I see.”

You snorted then shrugged. “I try.”

Once the car rolled to a stop, Henry tapped on the steering wheel as he stared at your house. You wondered what he was thinking and worried he thought you were bougie. After about a minute of silence, Henry unbuckled his seat belt.

“I’ll get your door,” he blurted out before he hopped out the car and walked around to the passenger side. He held his hand out for yours, which you took without hesitation.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, then the two of you walked toward your front door in silence with the flowers he brought you in hand.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome.”

Once in front of the door, you both stood there staring at each other. The butterflies in your stomach still had yet to dissipate; they’d only picked up. You wondered what he was thinking to look at you the way he was. You noticed him he was rocking back and forth with his hands stuffed into his pockets. It was adorable.

“Oh, I fly out tomorrow,” Henry blurted out.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’ll be gone for four weeks, and then it’s time for some much-needed downtime,” he explained.

The butterflies began to die down, but only a small amount. “Lucky you.”

He shrugged and gave an indifferent expression. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

You returned his shrug. “I had a good time. I just might steal that spot seeing that I live here.”

His laugh was boisterous and echoed over the front of your property. You liked the sound of his laugh and liked the laugh lines that decorated around his mouth and eyes even more. It showed he was a happy man.

“It’s fine as long as you don’t mind sharing it with me,” Henry countered.

You leaned on the pillar behind you and held tighter to the flowers.

“I’m not much of a sharer. I like what’s mine—mine.”

Henry smirked in a way that had those butterflies take flight yet again.

“We’ll have to work on that. Sharing is caring.”

A scoff escaped you as you shook your head. You dug your hand into your hair and gently tousled it, again thankful you’d decided to go the extra step with straightening it. When you looked back to Henry, the fire in his eyes could not be missed, and that fire sparked one in you. A few seconds later, he was closing the space between you and clasping you at the nape of your neck before his lips pressed to yours.

While the first kiss in the cave was slow, sensual, and passionate, this one was urgent, greedy, and controlling, and it set you on fire instantly. Henry’s free hand connected to your hip and gently held you, barley touching his hardened frame. When you heard him moan, you softly nibbled his bottom lip, which had him returning the favor. Good lord, you thought before you placed your hand on his chest and took advantage of his closeness. You swore you could feel his heart pounding underneath your palm, but you weren’t sure. When you moaned, Henry was the one to pull away this time, but his body was still close, tempting you with its heat and size.

When he spoke, his voice was temptingly deep. “Use those pictures so you don’t forget what I look like.”

You smiled again. He was becoming very good at it.

“Goodnight, Aliya.” You gazed into his eyes, bit your bottom lip, and nodded.

“Goodbye, Henry.”

His body broke out in a shiver that shook you due to his proximity. You couldn’t help but smirk. You watched him back away and walk to his car.

“Have a safe flight and trip.”

When he turned to look at you again once he was at his door. “Thank you.”

He got into his car and watched you. It took you a few moments to realize he was waiting for you to go inside before he pulled off. Another gentlemanly trait was ticked off on the pros side of your list that was steadily growing. When you got inside, you armed the house and leaned against the door with the flowers clutched to your chest.

“What in the holy hell are you doing, Aliya?”

You hit your head back onto the glass of the door a few times, trying to find your chill—a chill that had continuously evaded you all night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x ofc #slow burn fanfic #angst fanfic

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ramzawrites · 4 years ago

Note

Ramza my beloved /p

I have thought of an idea and it won't leave me aloneee

Eret x Male Reader. Crown princes of rival nations repeatedly forced to coexist at balls and parties held by nations their kingdoms are both allied with. Enemies to lovers. Maybe this could have multiple instances? A cool one could be them competing over stupid things at a ball. Who can pick the most flowers in the courtyard without making the bushes look bad. Who can catch the most fish in the koi pond. Chock full with accidental blushing and "this feeling.... Ah yes. Hatred. Must be hatred."

Then getting caught by the Host Kingdoms staff and yelled at for disrupting the decor, begrudgingly agreeing to call it a tie until next time? 👀 -🌱

Rivals - Prince!Reader x Prince!Eret

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request from 🌱🌟 my beloved <3 /p

Summary: Prince Y/N and Prince Eret hated each other. That was just a fact. Mostly causing trouble together in order to one up the other. Though over the time even their relationship can change.

Words count: 5367

Authors Note: I’ll be honest you hit me with this request at a very good time so I ended up writing 10 pages in one go haha

Thank you for the request 🌱🌟!