#I just love the way the emerald colour of her dress brings out the emerald colour of her eyes

[thevelaryons]

Marilda of Hull

The pretty young daughter of a shipwright, Marilda of Hull was a canny trader and daring captain.

Artist: AliceBlakeArt

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

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Chapter Thirty Seven

Aylah’s POV:

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in Kayla’s bedroom, my fingers running down the sides of the black bodycon dress I was wearing. The fabric hugged my curves, a little more snug than I was used to, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just�� different. I never really wore dresses like this, especially when I had something to prove, something to run away from, but tonight felt different.

It wasn’t just the clothes; it was the way I was feeling—the thrill of freedom, the distraction of the music, the promise of forgetting everything that had been weighing on me.

The dress was simple but elegant, the black shade making my skin pop and the cut accentuating every inch of my body. I had chosen it because it felt like it would blend in yet make me feel powerful. Tonight, I was trying to channel something I didn’t know I had in me—a version of myself that didn’t care about responsibilities or the tangled mess in my chest.

I adjusted the straps, checking myself from every angle. My hair was loose, falling in soft waves over my shoulders, and I’d kept my makeup fresh, bold but not overdone. The red lipstick felt like a punch of confidence. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for—maybe reassurance that I looked good, or maybe that I could pull off something that made me feel confident for once.

Just as I turned to check the back, the door opened, and Kayla walked in, her heels clicking against the floor with each step. I looked at her in the mirror and immediately noticed we were dressed almost identically, both of us in bodycon dresses that hugged our figures in all the right places.

She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning me up and down, and then a slow grin spread across her face. "Damn, girl," she said, her voice filled with admiration. "Look at you. You’re gonna turn heads tonight."

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, my nerves coming through. "You think so?" I asked, still not quite convinced.

Kayla stepped closer, her eyes never leaving mine as she ran her hands down the side of her own dress. She was wearing a deep emerald green dress, the colour flattering her tan skin and bringing out the brightness of her eyes. She was effortlessly beautiful in a way that made me feel like I still had a lot to figure out about myself.

"You’ve got it, AJ. Trust me," she said, her tone teasing but reassuring at the same time. She grabbed my arm lightly, making me face her. "You’ve always had it in you; it’s just about owning it."

I exhaled, looking at her reflection in the mirror. "I don’t know, Kayla. I just...feel like I’m pretending. Like I’m putting on a mask to forget everything I’ve been thinking about lately."

Kayla tilted her head, her expression softening. "Hey, no one said you have to have it all figured out. Just tonight, forget about the messy stuff. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself. You’re allowed to let go."

I let her words sink in, the idea of being able to breathe for a little while—just for one night—settling into me like a gentle weight. I’d been so caught up in everything lately, especially with how complicated things had been with Adam, how I couldn’t make sense of my feelings. But maybe this was the night to stop thinking. To just be.

I met her eyes in the mirror, and she gave me an encouraging smile, stepping back and spinning in front of me to adjust her own dress. "Plus, you're not the only one who’s been thinking about other things tonight," she teased, her grin widening as she raised an eyebrow. "We’re going to have fun, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing off me, even if just for a moment. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. Let’s just make it a night to remember... or forget."

Kayla winked at me. "Exactly. And trust me, you’ll forget all about him and all the stupid drama when we’re sipping cocktails at the club."

I glanced at my phone on the bed, the screen lighting up briefly with a text from Adam. I didn’t bother reading it. The last thing I needed was to get lost in the complexities of my emotions tonight. I had enough of that in the past few days.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my clutch and slipped on my heels, making my way toward the door. Kayla followed suit, the two of us walking side by side, a silent understanding passing between us.

"You ready?" she asked as we walked out of the room and into the hallway.

"Yeah," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "Let’s do this."

The moment we stepped through the club’s entrance, the noise hit us—blaring music, pounding bass, the heat of a crowd that felt alive, electric. The darkened interior of the club was awash in neon lights, the flickering colours casting sharp, vibrant shadows over the packed dance floor.

Strobes sliced through the dim atmosphere, creating jagged lines of light that danced along the faces of the partygoers. The air was thick with a mix of perfume, cologne, and the distinct scent of alcohol, a cocktail of excitement hanging in the air.

The music was thumping with deep house beats and electric synths, each sending vibrations through my chest, the rhythm pulling at the edges of my body as if coaxing me into the chaos. The floor was a blur of movement, people lost in the music, some dancing, others talking loudly, all illuminated by the vibrant colours that seemed to change with every beat. The atmosphere was wild and uninhibited, the kind of place where people could leave their worries at the door and become someone else for the night.

As Kayla and I walked in, heads turned almost instinctively. The club’s energy shifted slightly, as if everyone was taking note of our presence. I caught glimpses of eyes following us—some curious, some admiring, others appraising us as we made our way through the crowd. The rhythmic pulse of the music seemed to become louder, more pronounced, as I adjusted my posture and tried to exude the confidence Kayla had been encouraging me to embrace.

With each step we took, the crowd parted, like waves pushing us forward, until we reached the bar area, where Cyrus, Leah, and Serena were already waiting. The trio were seated in a corner booth, drinks in hand, all of them laughing, the bright neon light casting a playful glow on their faces.

The moment they spotted us, their expressions lit up. Serena was the first to stand, her eyes widening as she took in our outfits, her lips curling into a grin.

"Look at you, AJ!" Serena exclaimed, her voice carrying above the noise, her gaze scanning me from head to toe. "You look like you just walked off the runway!"

I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, feeling the tension I had carried throughout the day begin to melt away. "Thanks, Serena," I replied, adjusting my clutch and giving her a playful wink. "You’re looking gorgeous yourself, as always."

Leah followed suit, her eyes glimmering with approval. "Damn babe, you are on fire tonight," she added, her words teasing but genuine. She turned her gaze to Kayla, her smile widening as she took in her dress. "Kayla, you’re killing it too! That green is everything on you."

Kayla grinned, the compliment clearly lifting her spirits as she spun once in place, letting her emerald dress catch the light. "Thanks, babes," she said, reaching over to give Leah a playful bump. "I might have to steal some of that confidence from you tonight."

Cyrus, leaning back in the booth with his drink, grinned mischievously. His gaze flickered from me to Kayla, then back to me again, a knowing look in his eyes. "Well, damn," he drawled, his voice dripping with a mix of admiration and amusement. "You two have definitely raised the bar for the rest of us tonight. No wonder the whole club’s been staring."

I shot him a playful side-eye, rolling my eyes, though my lips tugged upward in a smile. "Don’t flatter us too much, Cyrus."

We each began to laugh, my anxiety easing almost instantly before Kayla grabbed my hand ushering me to follow her, “Come on. Let’s get on that floor before I start dancing without you,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I hesitated for only a moment before I moved, the heels clicking sharply against the floor as I followed her lead. The moment I was on my feet, it was like the atmosphere shifted entirely. But now, with the lights casting bright flashes across our faces and the pulsing beats calling us, I felt the heat of the night settle around me like a second skin.

Kayla immediately moved forward, making her way toward the dance floor with an effortless sway in her step. The confidence she exuded was contagious, and I found myself smiling, following her toward the center of the chaos.

The space around us seemed to open up as we moved through the crowd, the sound of the music growing louder, the bass vibrating in my chest. The dance floor was packed, but there was a kind of energy here—an unspoken freedom that came with being surrounded by strangers, all of us lost in the rhythm.

When we finally reached an open space on the floor, Kayla started swaying her hips to the beat, her body moving with fluidity as if she had been waiting for this moment all night. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the rhythm seep deep into me, then opened them to see her already spinning around, the confidence in her movements undeniable.

I let go of any lingering self-doubt. There was no room for hesitation here, not in this moment. I started moving, too. My body followed the beat, my feet shifting across the floor with growing confidence as the music filled every inch of the room. I felt the heat of the crowd around me, the sweat on my skin, the adrenaline building with every passing second.

The world around me seemed to fade away, and for those moments, it was just the music, the lights, and the energy of everyone dancing together. My friends were with me, but it felt like we were all connected by something bigger, something that didn’t require words or explanations.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Leah and Serena had joined us, too, already getting into the groove, their movements carefree and natural. The energy was electric, and I couldn’t help but laugh as we all danced together, losing ourselves in the beat. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t thinking about Adam, or my mixed feelings, or any of the complicated mess that had been clouding my mind because of Jungkook. I was here, in the moment, with my friends, letting the music drown out everything else.

As the song shifted to a new track, I found myself feeling lighter, the worries slipping away. My body moved to the rhythm without second-guessing myself, and the freedom was intoxicating. Kayla caught my eye again, giving me an exaggerated wink as she twirled, her body twisting effortlessly to the rhythm. I laughed and twirled along with her, spinning with a sense of abandon I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The flashing lights, the laughter, the music—it was everything I needed, even if only for tonight. A distraction. A release.

I let the moment carry me away.

The music shifted again, this time into a faster beat, and the energy on the dance floor seemed to intensify. The crowd around me surged, and I was lost in the rhythm, my body moving to the pulse of the music with abandon. Kayla was beside me, laughing and twirling, and I felt a sense of freedom I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time. The air felt thick with excitement, the weight of the night lifting with every beat.

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me—too close, too insistent. A guy had sidled up, his hand brushing against the small of my back as he tried to press his body closer to mine. I froze for a split second, my body tensing at the unwelcome contact.

I knew the signs—knew exactly what he was trying to do, and it was the last thing I wanted right now.

Without missing a beat, I twisted around sharply, stepping back to put some distance between us. My gaze shot up to meet his, irritation flashing in my eyes. "I’m not interested," I said firmly, the words sharp, cutting through the music that was still pounding around us.

The guy, clearly a little taken aback by my response, hesitated for a moment before he gave me a sleazy grin. "Come on, babe," he said, his voice slurring just enough to make me cringe. "You’re too pretty to turn down."

I took another step back, my hand raised as if to ward him off. "I said, not interested, back off before I make you regret it," I spoke, my tone unwavering. I wasn’t about to let some random guy ruin my night. 

The moment I spoke the guy’s smirk faltered, and his eyes flickered with annoyance. But before he could say anything else, I saw a familiar figure approaching from behind—Cyrus, Leah, Kayla, and Serena. They were making their way over, their expressions shifting from casual to serious when they saw the tension in the air.

"Is there a problem?" Cyrus asked, his voice low and commanding, stepping up beside me with Leah and Serena right behind him, all of them looking directly at the guy. Kayla stood beside him, ready for whatever might come next.

The guy looked at Cyrus for a moment, sizing him up, then his lips twisted into a sneer. "Fuck off," he spat, clearly trying to intimidate him.

Leah’s eyes narrowed. "I know you didn’t just tell my best friend to fuck off," she snapped, her tone venomous, and I could see the fire in her eyes. She wasn’t about to let him get away with that.

The guy just smirked, not backing down. "Shut up, bitch," he shot back, his voice laced with anger.

I felt the heat rising in me, but before I could respond Kayla was already stepping forward, her hands clenched into fists. "That’s it," she said, her voice firm. And before anyone could stop her, she lunged at him.

In the blink of an eye, she tackled him to the ground, pinning him with surprising force. "You don’t talk to my friends like that!" she yelled, landing a hit to his shoulder. The others joined in, rushing forward to help hold him down as he struggled beneath them.

I couldn’t believe it. My mind was still reeling from what had just happened, but now, my friends were really going for it. They were hitting him all over, pushing him down further as the guy flailed, shouting curses.

"Guys, stop! We’re going to get kicked out!" I tried to shout, my voice rising above the chaos, but it was hard to get their attention amidst the loud struggle.

Leah grabbed the guy by the collar and pulled him up just enough to lock him in a chokehold, her muscles tense with the effort. "That’s what you get for fucking with us," she spat in his ear, her voice deadly calm despite the intensity of the situation.

Serena, meanwhile, had pulled out her phone and was recording the entire scene, laughing like she was watching a movie. "This is going viral," she said between giggles, holding the camera just above the guy’s flailing head. The whole thing was almost surreal, but it didn’t seem to stop any of them.

Suddenly, the club’s security appeared, two towering figures marching toward the scene, their eyes scanning the chaos before they moved in to break it up. One of the guards reached down, pulling Leah off the guy, while the other held back Kayla, who was still itching to land another hit.

The large, imposing figure of one of the guards grabbed the guy and began dragging him outside, his hand gripping the man by the collar like he was nothing more than a ragdoll. He barely had time to process what was happening before he was roughly escorted away.

Once the guy was out of the way, the other bouncer turned to us, his face still stern but less angry now that the situation had calmed. "What happened here?" he asked, looking at us for an explanation.

I could feel my heart still racing, but I quickly spoke up, trying to keep my voice steady. "He tried to touch me and I rejected him," I said, the words coming out sharper than I expected. "But he wasn’t getting the message and then got aggressive."

The bouncer’s face darkened with anger. "I’m sorry about that," he said quickly. "We’ll make sure this guy is dealt with. He won’t be allowed back here again." He seemed genuinely apologetic, giving us a nod of reassurance.

Leah, always the one to add a bit of flair to everything, laughed, elbowing Cyrus and Kayla as the bouncer turned away to deal with the guy. "We definitely gave him a lesson in respect," she said with a grin.

Kayla joined in, shaking her head. "Badass is an understatement," she said, her voice playful but full of pride. 

Serena, who had been holding her phone the whole time, flashed it at us. "I am definitely posting this," she said, giggling. "What a scene."

"Totally," Kayla added, throwing an arm around Leah's shoulders. "We make one hell of a team."

Cyrus smirked, shaking his head. "Now I don’t know about you guys, but I think it’s time to get drunkkkkk!"

That was all the encouragement we needed to let the night take us wherever it wanted, to throw ourselves headfirst into the chaos without hesitation. The bar gleamed under the neon lights, shots lined up like soldiers waiting to be taken, their amber and jewel-toned hues reflecting the pulsing glow of the club.

Without a second thought, we grabbed them, our hands brushing as we lifted the glasses in an uncoordinated but enthusiastic toast, the crystal-clear clink barely audible over the pounding music. The liquor hit hard, burning its way down our throats, but instead of slowing us down, it only seemed to ignite something reckless in our blood, something untouchable and wild.

The games started innocently enough, a round of Never Have I Ever that quickly unravelled into Truth or Dare, and before long, we weren’t even keeping track of the rules anymore, downing shots for reasons that no longer made sense but felt completely necessary in the moment.

Kayla, her eyes glassy with amusement and mischief, turned to me with a smirk, barely steadying herself as she pointed in my direction. “You,” she declared, pausing for dramatic effect as if she were about to deliver the most important decree of the night, “are getting on that table. Right now.”

There wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to refuse. The second I climbed onto the wobbly wooden surface, the entire room seemed to pulse with me, the bass of the music thrumming through my bones, my heartbeat syncing to the deep, vibrating rhythm as I threw my arms up and let myself move without thought, without hesitation, without care.

The world tilted, but whether it was from the drinks or the sheer euphoria of the moment, I couldn’t tell, nor did I want to. Below me, Cyrus whooped, his drink splashing over his fingers as he lifted it in celebration, while Kayla cackled, phone in hand, capturing every second as she screamed, "ICONIC!" at the top of her lungs.

Time became something fluid, impossible to track, slipping away into a blur of flashing lights, tangled limbs, and breathless, full-bodied laughter that made my ribs ache. We danced until our legs could barely hold us up, drank until the floor beneath us felt more like the deck of a rocking ship than solid ground, and clung to each other as we navigated through the intoxicating, exhilarating chaos of it all.

At some point, walking in a straight line became laughably impossible, but none of us cared, our bodies colliding as we stumbled together toward the exit, barely able to stand yet unwilling to let the night end just yet.

By the time we spilled onto the street, the cool air wrapping around our flushed skin in a welcome contrast to the heat of the club, Kayla and I were holding onto each other for dear life, our laughter bubbling over as if we had discovered some great cosmic joke. And then, without warning, with the kind of certainty that only comes from being perfectly drunk and perfectly happy, we started singing—no, screaming—the words to Judas by Lady Gaga, our voices loud, unfiltered, and completely off-key.

"I'll bring him down, bring him down, down…"

We didn’t care who was watching, didn’t care that the lyrics came out slurred and slightly out of sync, didn’t care that we were stumbling over our own feet as we twirled dramatically beneath the flickering glow of a streetlamp.

"I'm just a Holy Fool, oh, baby, it's so cruel."

Kayla nearly collapsed from laughing, gripping my arm so tightly I almost went down with her, and for a moment, I thought my lungs might give out from how hard I was laughing too. The city stretched out in front of us, glittering with possibility, the night still thick with electricity, and in that perfect, delirious moment, we were invincible, untouchable, weightless, and completely, overwhelmingly alive.

I slurred to Kayla, "Uhhh, we need to go homeeeeeee."

Kayla pouted theatrically, her lower lip jutting out as she clung to my arms like a lifeline, her body swaying slightly with the lingering dizziness of too many drinks. “Nooo, I wanna drink more!” she whined, her words stretching out in a sing-song tone before she suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. Without waiting for my response, she spun on her heel and skipped—literally skipped—back inside, disappearing into the neon-lit chaos of the bar, leaving me outside. The night air was cool against my flushed skin as I stood there, swaying on my heels, laughing softly to myself for no reason at all.

The world tilted slightly, my vision blurring at the edges, but I barely noticed too busy continuing my dramatic off-key rendition of Judas. My limbs felt light, my thoughts even lighter, and for a moment I let my body move with the unsteady rhythm of my own amusement. But when I spun around, a little too fast for my alcohol-clouded coordination, I collided directly into something—no, someone.

A startled yelp escaped me as I stumbled backward, but before I could topple over completely strong hands gripped my arms, steadying me with a firm but careful hold. My head snapped up, my hazy vision adjusting as I blinked rapidly trying to focus on the person in front of me. My brain struggled to piece together features, but nothing was clicking, and instead of making an effort to figure it out I just grinned—big and goofy.

“Sorrrrryyy, mister!” I slurred, the words tumbling out in a bubbly mess accompanied by a breathless giggle.

The person’s hands remained steady on my arms, his grip grounding me just enough to keep me from toppling over completely. “Aylah?” he asked, his voice laced with something suspiciously close to concern. “Shit, are you okay?”

I squinted, tilting my head, my brain working overtime to connect the voice to a face, to a memory, to literally anything, but my alcohol-soaked mind had other plans. My lips parted in an exaggerated gasp of realization and I pointed dramatically at his chest.

“You’re not Aylah. I’m Aylah!” I declared, as if this was the most profound revelation in the world. And then, for absolutely no reason at all, I collapsed into laughter, my entire body shaking as the giggles took over, unstoppable and delirious.

The guy—whoever he was—did not look as entertained as I was. His expression shifted, brows knitting together as his grip on my arms adjusted slightly, as if debating whether or not I was about to completely collapse. “Are you drunk?” he asked, his tone hovering somewhere between amused and genuinely concerned.

I threw my arms out as wide as they would go, nearly losing my balance in the process but catching myself at the last second, wobbling like a cartoon character trying to stay upright. “Noooooooo!” I drawled, the word stretching out dramatically, full of false conviction and pure drunken energy.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and I could practically see the skepticism radiating from him. My grin only widened.

He let out a heavy sigh, the kind that sounded equal parts exhausted and resigned, rubbing a hand over his face before fixing me with a look that made it clear he had already made up his mind. “I need to get you home,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

But, of course, I wasn’t about to let that slide. “Noooo, I wanna drink more!” I whined dramatically, swaying on my feet, my body teetering forward before I caught myself on his arm, giggling as if gravity itself was a joke.

“No, you’re wasted,” he said firmly, his hands gripping my shoulders to steady me.

I opened my mouth to argue, fully prepared to launch into some kind of passionate, slurred defense, but before I could get a single word out, he bent down and, without warning, hoisted me effortlessly over his shoulder.

For a second, my brain short-circuited.

And then—

“WEEEEEEEEEEE!” I squealed, kicking my legs playfully like a child on a carnival ride, my arms flailing dramatically as if I were soaring through the air instead of being kidnapped against my will. “I’m flyingggg!”

“Stop swinging your arms,” he grunted, gripping me tighter to keep me from completely flopping off his back. “You’re going to be sick.”

I gasped, appalled at the mere suggestion that I wasn’t in full control of my body. “Nooooo, I would never!” I protested, but the words came out more like a giggle than an actual defense.

To prove my totally sober and responsible state, I patted his back reassuringly. Well—okay, maybe it was more like a slap. A loud, resounding smack echoed through the night air.

“Wow,” I mused, letting my fingers linger as if I had just made the most ground-breaking discovery of the century. “You have a really nice ass, mister.”

His entire body tensed, and I swore I heard him physically groan in frustration. “Aylah,” he warned, voice strained, “behave.”

But instead of taking him seriously, I just burst into laughter, completely unbothered, resting my chin against his back like a smug little gremlin as he carried me toward his car.

Once we got there, he set me down carefully—probably out of fear that I’d just collapse like a ragdoll—and with practiced efficiency, he guided me into the passenger seat, reaching over to buckle me in like I was an overgrown toddler. I wiggled slightly, making the process as difficult as humanly possible, but he just sighed again, clicking the seatbelt into place before shutting the door with a firm thud.

Through the windshield, I watched as he leaned against the car, exhaling deeply as he pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen before he pressed it to his ear.

“Are your friends still inside?” he asked, glancing at me.

I nodded lazily, my head lolling to the side. “Mmmhmm.”

He clicked his tongue, clearly debating something in his head before grabbing his phone and speaking into it. “I need you to pick up some people up from Club Elysium,”

The person on the other end didn’t even hesitate before responding. “Jesus. What happened?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he could already feel a headache forming. “Aylah’s wasted. And not just ‘needs a glass of water’ wasted—fully gone. She tried to argue with me about her own name, called me ‘mister,’ and then—” He paused, exhaling sharply. “Then she smacked my ass.”

There was silence on the other end before a choked laugh broke through. “She what?”

As he talked, I just sat there, humming to myself, watching him through half-lidded eyes and thinking that, despite everything, he really did have a very nice ass.

After ending the call, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to face me, his expression hovering somewhere between exasperation and reluctant amusement. “Alright,” he said, voice steady but firm. “Do you have your house keys with you?”

I blinked up at him, my alcohol-soaked brain struggling to process the question. My brows furrowed in deep concentration as if the answer was buried somewhere in the depths of my mind, just out of reach. Then, suddenly, a brilliant idea struck me, and I gasped dramatically, throwing my arms out wide.

“I live in the skyyyyyyyy!” I declared, dragging out the word as I tilted my head back to gaze at the night sky above, my body swaying slightly in my seat. The stars looked so pretty. So shiny. Maybe I did live up there. Who was he to say I didn’t?

He let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing a hand down his face, but I caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was trying to fight back a smile and failing.

“Aylah,” he started, his voice laced with patience he probably didn’t have. “You do not live in the sky.”

I gasped again, clutching my chest in mock offense. “How dare you?” I slurred. “I’ll have you know, the clouds and I are very close. I’m practically their queen.”

His head dipped forward for a second, as if he needed a moment to gather the willpower to deal with me. Then, after a deep breath he straightened, his expression resigned. “Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m taking you to my place.”

I perked up at that, my grin stretching from ear to ear. “Ooooh, didn’t realise you had a crush on me.” I teased, wiggling my eyebrows. 

He groaned, reaching across to buckle me in again when I immediately started wiggling out of my seatbelt. “For the love of God, just sit still.”

I giggled, leaning my head back against the seat. “Your place better have snacks,” I mumbled, already half-asleep.

He sighed again, this time heavier, but as he drove off, I swore I heard him chuckle under his breath.

Jungkook’s POV:

As I drove through the quiet city streets, my gaze flickered to her every so often, a fond smirk tugging at my lips. She was an absolute mess—her makeup slightly smudged, her dress slightly wrinkled, and her hair a tousled halo around her face—but somehow, she still managed to look adorable. Her head kept lolling to the side, her eyelids fluttering as if she was fighting sleep, but the slow, even rhythm of her breathing told me she was already losing the battle.

The soft hum of the engine and the distant glow of streetlights cast a sleepy haze over the car. When I got stuck at a red light, I turned slightly, only to find that she had finally given in, completely knocked out. Her head had slumped forward at an awkward angle, her cheek pressed against her own shoulder, her lips slightly parted.

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head with amusement before reaching over, careful not to wake her, and gently tilting her head so she rested more comfortably against the door. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, barely more than a breath, and she murmured something incoherent in her sleep, shifting slightly but never fully waking.

Noticing the way her bare legs curled slightly from the cool air, I grabbed my jacket from the backseat and draped it over her lap. She barely stirred, only nestling deeper into the seat, her fingers twitching slightly against the fabric of her dress.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the parking garage of my hotel, the soft beeping of the car shutting off breaking the silence. I glanced over at her again, still completely passed out, her body limp and weightless in sleep. With a quiet sigh, I stepped out, rounding the car to open her door. The moment I unbuckled her seatbelt, she shifted slightly, her brows furrowing for a brief second before relaxing again.

Carefully, I slipped my arms beneath her, lifting her into my chest with ease. She was warm and soft against me, her breath fanning lightly against my collarbone as she instinctively nestled closer, her fingers weakly gripping the fabric of my shirt.

The elevator ride up felt longer than usual, the soft hum of the music filling the quiet space. Every few seconds, she’d mumble something unintelligible, shifting slightly but never waking, completely lost in whatever dream world she had stumbled into.

Finally, I reached my suite, nudging the door open with my foot before stepping inside. The room was dimly lit, the soft golden glow from the bedside lamp casting warm shadows across the space. Carefully, I laid her down on the bed, adjusting her so she wouldn’t wake up sore in the morning. She barely reacted, just curling onto her side with a small sigh.

With a smirk, I crouched down, gently sliding off her heels one by one so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Her toes flexed slightly at the sudden freedom, but otherwise, she didn’t stir.

After grabbing a pack of makeup wipes from the bathroom, I returned to the bedside, lowering myself gently onto the mattress beside her. She was still lost in sleep, her features soft, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in slow, even rhythms. The dim lighting of the room cast gentle shadows over her face, highlighting the remnants of the night—smudged eyeliner beneath her lashes, traces of lipstick fading from her lips, a faint flush on her cheeks.

I peeled open a wipe and, with careful hands, began to clean the streaks of mascara and eyeliner clinging to her skin. The cool sensation made her shift slightly, a quiet whimper of protest escaping her lips as she scrunched her nose and turned her face away.

I chuckled under my breath, running a soothing hand through her hair. “Just a little bit more, baby,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over her temple. “Then you can sleep.”

As if my voice alone was enough to ease her, she stilled beneath my touch, her body relaxing, her breathing deepening once again.

I worked quickly, wiping away the last traces of makeup before tossing the used wipes into the bin. Once finished, I pulled the blanket up over her, tucking it snugly around her shoulders to keep her warm. Just in case, I grabbed the small waste bin from the corner of the room and placed it beside the bed, knowing how the aftermath of a night like this could be unforgiving. I also set a bottle of water and some painkillers on the nightstand, within reach for when she woke up.

Satisfied that she was comfortable, I pushed myself up, ready to leave her to rest—

But before I could take a step, her fingers curled weakly around my wrist.

“Don’t leave,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with the soft vulnerability of sleep.

I froze, feeling something tighten in my chest, something warm and unfamiliar.

She was still mostly unconscious, her grip loose and drowsy, but the way she reached for me, the way she clung as if my presence alone made her feel safe, sent a quiet ache through me.

A small smile tugged at my lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her gently, brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face. “I’m right here, baby.”

At my words, a faint, contented smile ghosted over her lips, and though her fingers relaxed, she didn’t fully let go.

I stayed for a few moments longer, just watching her, making sure she was truly settled before carefully slipping her arm back under the blanket. She barely stirred, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. With a quiet sigh, I stood and made my way to the couch, grabbing a spare blanket from the wardrobe. The plush cushions weren’t nearly as comfortable as the bed, but I didn’t mind.

Lying down, I draped the blanket over myself, folding my arms behind my head as I let my gaze drift back to her sleeping form. My body begged for rest, but still, I stayed awake just in case she stirred. Just in case, in the quiet vulnerability of sleep, she reached for me again—and if she did, I’d be right here.

[syraxesrevenge]

appearance headcanons for younger hotd generation

---------------------

• jacaerys has an aquiline nose and purple eyes, like his mother. there is little time you will see him dressed in anything other than a plain grey or brown training coat or riding gear, and some ladies at court jest that even vermax is better dressed than him. it does have a certain charm to it, however, and who could resist those beautiful purple eyes?

• lucerys has some white streaks in his curls, and he has fluffier hair than his brothers. he often dresses rather plainly, with deep velaryon blues and silver scarves that bring out his greyish-fawn eyes. he tries to stay as well groomed as possible, but by the end of the day rhaenyra is surprised if he doesn't have sand on his head and water in his coat.

• joffrey looks the least like rhaenyra, but he's the reflection of harwin. his clothes are often simple garments, black pads for silver training armour he uses while sparring with the small folk children of dragonstone. daeron gave him a dragon pin for his seventh birthday, and he wears it everywhere.

• baela is a spectacle. she's stylish, but in the "my armor is decorated with rubies and silver" sort of way. her hair is often braided into cornrows or buns, while moondancers saddle is often garnished with emeralds and sapphires, and the mixed banners of her parent houses.

• rhaena loves luxury. she ADORES luxury. gold and silver hair rings looped in her braids, chokers with small rhinestones and big diamonds, velvet dresses with fronted myrish lace; anything fashion, rhaena has. the others usually come to her for fashion designs and rightfully so.

• helaena likes simple chic. long, fitted lavender dresses with veiled silver tiaras. bejeweled bodices and soft, pastel colours. she hates the heavy queens crown, but loves small circlets with little gems like topaz and rubies. she also adores cloaks and capes, and feels like she can hide in them when she wants to.

• daeron doesn't have white hair. no, I think he has light auburn, just like his mother! he's also the favorite, and due to being raised in oldtown, often dresses in Hightower grey. sometimes a light, cheerful mint or deep green as well. tessarion is often adorned in these colours as well, even down to the design of her saddle.

• aegon dresses like a rat bffr everyone

• aemond has green hightower eyes (or, well, eye) and takes advantage of that. black suits and high ponytails are common, as well as emerald clips and black pearl headbands. he's very fashionable, unbeknownst to most that see him at first. Vhagar is often bejeweled as well; he can't have her looking ugly in front of the most beautiful dragon in the realm.

[katedrakeohd]

It's Party Time...

... at the 2023 MC Summer Mixer. Presented by @choicesmcmadness

The Duke & Duchess of Valtoria, Drake and (MC)Kate Walker, have been invited to attend..

The Duke and Duchess at last year's event.

What will they be wearing this year? How will they arrive? Who knows?

... Luckily we caught up earlier today via conference call with the dashing Duke and his dazzling Duchess for an interview.

Reporter: Your Grace, Mr. Walker, what will you and the Duchess be wearing this evening?

Drake: Please, just call me Drake. I may be a Duke at home, and I have staff that cater to me here, but deep down I'm no more special than anyone else.

Reporter: As you wish, Mr. - ... Sorry. So Drake, do you and the Duchess have stylists that pick out your clothing for parties and events? Or do you dress yourselves?

Drake: I try to pick out my own things to wear, usually. And if I had my way I wouldn't wear anything fancier than a clean pair of jeans and a button down cotton shirt over a t-shirt. But that doesn't usually cut it for fancier parties. According to Kate anyway...I trust her to picks things out for me.

Kate: If I'm dressing up for something special, I want us both to make an effort to look good together. I know what looks good on you, Drake. We wouldn't want some sharply dressed Earl, Duke, Lord or King thinking I was single and whisking me off onto the dancefloor..right?

Drake: *grumbles, clearing his throat* Definitely, not! Nobody's putting a hand on my wife without permission.

Reporter: Ok, so we've established that Kate likes to dress up her man to his greatest potential. What will you be wearing, Drake?

Drake: Since it pleases her so much. I'll be wearing a suit jacket with matching trousers paired with a white shirt. But no tie, I always feel like I'm being choked when I have to wear a tie.

Reporter: Ok, Duchess Kate. What about you? What do you like to wear to events like these?

Kate: Depending upon how formal the event is, I like to dress in rich jewel tones or black. Something that contours my body, and shows off a little leg. Or a lot of leg if I'm feeling daring. I like fabrics that are pleasing to the touch, like velvet, satin, or silk or a combination of those. I prefer to keep sequins to a minimum, and would rather wear my sparkle in my jewelry or my shoes. A strappy pair of black stiletto heels are my favorite for making a statement, and for my dress tonight I've chosen something in an emerald green.

...

Reporter: Before going out for the evening, do either of you have specific rituals or things you have to do or wear?

Drake: *shrugs* For me usually just a shower and a shave, and maybe a little splash of the cologne that Kate likes. Oh, and my whiskey flask filled up and tucked away in my jacket pocket. If socialising with boring strangers has to happen it's nice to have a nip of liquid courage first.

Kate: I schedule a spa appointment to get a mani-pedi and a wax the day before a party. That way the night of I only have to shower and do my hair and make-up. I love a classic smoky eye and red lip.

Drake: I swear her makeup table thingy has a drawer of red lipstick in every shade imaginable.

Kate: It's called a vanity, Dear. And I have other colours besides red. It's just my favourite.

Reporter: Will you be employing a babysitter for the evening?

Drake: We have a five year old daughter, so yes. It's date night for Mom and Dad. Since the party is so far from home, we'll be bringing an overnight bag too.

Reporter: How will you be arriving at tonight's party?

Drake: As much as I'd love to drive us there myself, we'll be travelling by SUV driven by our security detail. Leaving the duchy and manor for a night out is no longer just a simple thing.

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

⭐️ have a star, talk about whatever you want ☺️

link to the ask game

Thank you so much for this <3 <3 <3 !!

One thing that I really want to talk about is ship symbolism in 'Wherever you go, there you are'.

Miraak and Ravonna are the main ship, and I've been thinking a lot about their symbolism, and for the longest time, I thought they were a sun/moon ship, but that never really seemed right to me. In a way, I could never say that it is truly a sun/moon ship, because while Miraak is definitely the sun, the gentle healer sunshine boy who brings life within the souls of all who spend time with him, I think Ravonna is a bit too cheery, loud and jolly to be the moon. But I've figured it all out now and I've been dying to talk about it!!!

They're sun/storm!!! I don't even know if this ship dynamic exists, but it makes so much sense to me!! I've always said that Ravonna is a storm. For some people, storms are scary and terrifying, and she can definitely be scary and terrifying, especially as a master destruction mage! The things she can so with magic are crazy. Others, may find storms a nuisance, something bad, an inconvenience. I'm aware that Ravonna may not be everyone's cup of tea: she is loud, sings sea shanties waay too much and she is impulsive and preposterous, not to mention how tight she holds on to her grudges, but really, under that charming and funny persona, there is someone who is also hurting, grieving, feeling deeply, falling in love etc. She has her own internal struggles. And while storms may be bad in some people's eyes, they are the most beautiful thing mother nature can do in others' eyes. I'm saying this as a person whose favourite weather is definitely a good summer thunderstorm :))).

The thing is, storms are beautiful. There's beauty in chaos, there's patterns, there's peace, there's melody all within a single storm. And storms bring growth, for how can growth occur without it? How can the grass grow and the flowers bloom without rain? That's her to everyone she cared about, and especially to Miraak. She is both his savior and his enemy. She hurts him, but she also nurtures him.

Even the way they look and their aesthetics fit withn the sun/storm! We have Miraak, who is a blond Atmoran with warm, gentle, honey brown eyes and a smile so bright it alomst hurts and we have Ravonna, the pale nord with long black hair who almost always dresses in big purple mage robes. Her eyes are of emerald green, just as the colour of moss, a thing that grows where there is humidity.

And I'll add just one more thing because this is turning into a big essay, but yes, sometimes the sun makes the storm go away and yes, sometimes the storm eclipses the sun, but it is a rare moment when they both occur at the same time, and it is truly beautiful to see the sun shining through a storm. They seem to be completing each other, even if it is unlikely. As unlikely as is the whole miraak/ldb ship, because what were the chances of the first and the last to fall in love and get together?

[casterlygldcs]

withsilvereyes​:

setting : the lannister apartments in highgarden, sometime before the storm ; starter for @casterlygldcs

icy hues gazed down at the gardens below, rich with colours and expanding further than she could’ve imagined. it was certainly not her first visit to the reach, but it seemed the very landscape itself changed every time she came. she much preferred the rolling hills of her own home, the familiarity that landscape brought, but she would admit this place was quite beautiful.

golden curls brushed across her back as she turned and walked to the table she had initially taken to, her tea surely cold now, her correspondences left untouched. katherine’s mind was, uncharacteristically, scattered today. one would look about the very room she was in and say she surely had everything. she did not want for a thing. and yet, the one thing she need give in return, she still had not.

hands came to her hips now, willing herself to focus, she had already sent a handmaiden to her husband, notifying him of her arrival. she brushed through her locks one more time, assessing herself in the vanity before making her way to his audience chamber. katherine had become an expert in outward appearances, stride graceful and composure collected, not even those close to her would sense the thoughts within her mind.

at the announcement of her arrival, she strode in the room, frame dipping elegantly into a curtsy, before she gently uttered, “your grace.” it was both a term of respect, and endearment from her. a genuine smile curved upwards upon her lips now as shoulders visibly relaxed. though heartbeat quickened slightly, as she genuinely enjoyed being around him, if not for the one thing that hung between them as of late.

“i hope your day has been well.” katherine began, the beginning of what, she was unsure. if anything she simply craved moments of connection with him that did not involve the very future of the westerlands. “i was just looking out at the gardens and thought we could certainly use some more colour in ours at home, don’t you agree?”

♔

the mood of the lion king was foul. it was easy to know when the mood of the lion king was foul, for his silence was something that was far more disturbing. something about his aura made those around him entirely nervous, wondering just when those startling hues would fix more like the eyes of a lion on prey rather than the hue of emeralds. there was something that shifted in his gaze that made him seem less human and more leader, more the solid crown of gold that rested upon his head rather than the human with the blood, the flesh, the emotions. 

“your grace.” he greeted her, the image of westerlands chivalry; the ladies and pageboys who stood and watched, and watched, and watched. he extended her his hand to help her raise after her curtsy; she was perfect. she had always been perfect. the epitome of what it was to be dutiful and gracious. house serrett had placed her under his eye by bringing her to court. the newest lady in waiting in the household of the former rose queen - and yet, as much as he seemed not to notice the new face, he did. 

as he noticed her so many years ago, at one of the many balls taken part within the court of casterly to welcome king viserys. masked as one of the virtues, dressed all in white. as he had noticed her at the last tourney. but that was a lifetime ago. “you would have heard of what happened this morning.” 

the prince of fair isle had misstepped: he had done more than misstepped, he had resulted himself to a grovelling begger at the foot of the river king. a boy at heart who was wrapped in the tartans of the trident and had a crown placed upon his head by his banners who loved him - the lion had broken, and found himself begging for the help of the sheep. the hand of the king had been responsible for breaking the news to the lion king, the lord of the burning bush: and in that moment, the lion king felt as though he too would set his own aflame. 

for their weakness. for their disgrace. it was getting to the point where the lions were ripping themselves apart. there was no one left for them to turn on but one another: almost as though the murder of their aunt had been the final thing which had held them together. to beg the river king to interfere in the way in which a king conducted matters in his own court: as though being offered the clemency of exile would be enough of a mercy to her. the news had been broken in the morning, and now the evening had come.

and the queen of the westerlands spoke to him about colours. colours in casterly rock, that was carved into the mountain. he continued to eat his venison in silence after her suggestion; something about her aura was nervous. on edge. they both knew all too well just what she was on edge about: the fact that her womb remained as empty as the silence haunting their current dining chamber. 

“do you hear yourself, katherine?” 

[cazzyvintage]

Dancing the night away

Synopsis: You accomply Zemo to a ball yet you feel like you don’t truly belong there and you still compare yourself to Zemo’s ex wife but Zemo comforts you and assures you he loves you

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, all the fluff, plus very spicy end scene not 18+ but hella close

Word count: 2k

Authors note: As I promised a fluff one shot after the last one. We all need more loving Zemo in our lives. Also I just wanted to say that I love and appreciate every single one of you who likes and comments on my one shots. I used to write fanfiction on sites like Quotev and Wattpad and they never really got any attention which was quite down heartening to someone who wants to carry on writing for their career so all the love you have been showing to my Zemo one shots mean the world to me. Thank you all so much.

Once again Zemo had outdone himself. Buying you the most expensive dress in the shop, lavishing you with jewelry and make-up. Looking into the mirror even you could admit how stunning you appeared. You were wearing a tight-fitting emerald green dress that flurried out at the bottom in a swirl. The front of it cut down into a low v shape showing off the sides of your breasts.

You looked like how every little girl had always wanted to look like yet you couldn’t help but wonder...was this you?

You had never imagined you would be someone who would have a lot of money or meet someone who owned money. Let alone a Baron. It had happened so suddenly and you were swept up in a daze. It felt unreal, like every time you fall asleep you expect to wake back up in your old bed in your apartment. The truth was, deep down you felt like you didn’t deserve this.

You jumped as you felt hands wrap around your waist. Resting upon your stomach and pulling you in towards their chest.

“You look like the goddess Venus” Zemo whispers as he leans his head on your neck drinking in the scent of your perfume.

“If I hadn’t already promised the president I’d be there I would say screw this dance and take you right here”

“Zemo!” you gasp, your face instantly truing bright red at such a bold remark. You two had never gone that far in your relationship yet. You needed time to be ready before you ever went that far. Zemo respected that choice though he loved to tease you like that.

He chuckles, kissing your neck briefly then pulling back to admire himself in the mirror. “We will be the best looking couple there darling”

“You think so?”

Though his mouth was still turned into a smile he turned to you serious, “I know so y/n”

You break out into a big smile making Zemo smile flashing his teeth as well. He pulls you into a soft kiss, his hands gently holding onto you.

Following Zemo, he leads you to his car and a little while later you arrive at the ball. It felt like there were thousands of people there and they were all staring at you.

Zemo loved the attention. He politely smiled at everyone and greeted his friends there, introducing you to them.

You tried to make polite conversation but you had always been rather awkward. You didn’t know what you could say to people like them but Zemo made up for it by talking for you.

It felt like hours of you walking arm in arm with Zemo till he finally led you to the dance floor.

One hand on your waist and one holding yours, you two started to waltz to the music. Zemo started intently at you. His eyes sparkling in joy just to be in your presence while your face seemed to be in a permanent state of blushing.

“Have I told you just how much I adore your blush?” Zemo asks

You slightly chuckle still looking away, “Everyday” you breathed

“And I will continue telling you every day till you believe it”

“...Zemo”

“Darling, look at me” he whispers

Slowly you manage to drag your eyes off the floor and up into his warm chocolate ones. His grip on your hand tightens as he smiles warmly at you. “Words can not describe how stunning you are y/n. Poets would weep with joy just to be in your presence, even the stars would blow down to your light”

“I love you so much Zemo” you whisper

“I love you too”

You two continue to dance for the rest of the song till the music stops. You excuse yourself to step outside for a few moments.

Though Zemo loved to tell you how much he loved you, there was always a part of you that seemed to always doubt him. You were someone so common compared to him. Compared to his ex. He hardly spoke about her. You knew they were married with a child but they were both killed and it hurt him deeply. One day you snuck into his office and found a picture of her. She was so beautiful, so different to you.

“I hate seeing you looking so down darling” you hear Zemo say as he follows you outside. He stands behind you wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder.

“I’m fine” you try to reply but Zemo shakes his head, “I know you y/n, I know you are upset by something. I want to help you with whatever is lying heavily on your soul but I can’t unless you tell me”

You don’t say anything for a moment, you just breathe in and out trying to calm your nerves. Zemo pulls back from you. He turns you around and picks up your hands in his. He brings them up and kisses them gently.

Finally, you gather up the courage to just let it all go, to just say everything that had been bothering you.

“I don’t feel like I fit in here Zemo! Before I met you I was just an average person. Someone everyone here would look down on. Part of me still finds it hard to believe you even like me. Why would someone like you, a Baron, who could have any supermodel settle for someone like me. It doesn’t make sense. I feel so outcast here and I can’t help but think about your ex-wife. She was so beautiful, I saw that picture in your office of her. I know she is prettier than me and I just can’t understand why you would choose me after being with someone like her. I just don’t understand why you choose me Zemo!” you cried, letting the tears freshly leave your eyes.

Zemo looked shocked as you spoke but his facial expression soon turned to one of sadness. He raised his hands to your face, placing it on your side, and with his thumb, he brushed the tears away.

“Oh, y/n…” he whimpered as he struggled for a moment to find the right words.

With his other arm, he wraps it around your side and pulls you close to him till you could feel his breath on yours. His eyes stare intently into yours as he speaks,

“When I saw you in that restaurant a year ago, I was awestruck. My life had turned to shit. I’d lost everything and it felt like I was drowning in the waves of pain but when I saw you it was like the angels had blessed me. What drew me to you most though was your eyes. In the sun they shone, darling, tantalizing, drawing me in deep and under. I just had to talk to you. Other women may be pretty. Perhaps. But you darling. You look like the gods came down and painted you with the best colours in existence. Everything I say to you I mean and I want you to believe it. I would do anything just so you could see yourself the way I see you. I understand how you feel about my wife. It was my fault, not talking about her to you but the way I love you isn’t the same way I loved her. I always felt like I was forced to be in love with her like it was the right thing to do. Everyone told me I would be an idiot not to pursue her so I did. Yes, I liked her but I never felt connected to her. But you darling, I would throw everything away for you. I don’t care what anyone else says because I love you. I treasure you. Just looking at you makes my heart race still and my body feel warm. I want to hold you, touch you, taste you but at the same time, I’m scared I would taint you. That you were too beautiful, too innocent for the likes of me.” Zemo declares, never taking eyes off you.

Through his words you feel yourself melting. A warmness takes over you as your heart too nervously flutters. You place your hand over his chest and you can feel his heart quickly beating, almost in time to yours. He looks at you, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted as he desperately waits for your words.

“You mean the world to me Zemo, I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you and never will. I could never come close to your way with words but...thank you. For saying that. It...it means so much to me to hear that. I’m still going to occasionally have doubts. I’m afraid that’s the way I am and I don’t think that will ever change but I’m not leaving you Zemo. Never”

Zemo wraps his arms around you bringing you into a hug as you rest on his chest, encompassed in his warmth. “I will be there every moment of every day to help you through your doubts”

Eventually, you pull back to look at him, at his lips. You were so drawn to him at that moment. You two were so close it was intoxicating. Pushing forward, you closed your eyes to kiss him. Zemo’s eyes fluttered shut as well and he raised his hands to wrap in your hair. They got tangled in them and he slightly tugged making you moan.

You both freeze as your blush comes back but you pushed past your embarrassment, kissing Zemo harder. Your core started to warm and this time you weren’t going to run away from your desire. You part your lips slightly and Zemo takes that invitation to explore your mouth with his tongue. You push into his further, wanting to feel his body against yours. This caused him to take a few steps back till he hit a wall. You moved your body slightly up and down his as you two kissed. He pulled back, out of breath as he gazed in wonder at you.

“Am I okay to go further?”

“Yes” you gasp, “Zemo I…” you knew it now, you knew you were ready, “Zemo I want you”

His teeth flash as he smiled at you before he lowered his face to your neck, sucking on a section. His hands also lowered down your back till they grabbed your ass. It elicits more moans out of you as his teeth graze your skin. His mouth wanders all over you like he was attempting to kiss every inch of you. As he moved his head lower you tangled your hands in his soft hair, tugging it slightly which made him groan.

When he reaches your chest area he grabs the back of your legs lifting you. You wrap both your arms and legs around him as he walks you over to a table and lays you down on it. You continue to hold onto him so that his body was between your tights and his chest was pressed against yours.

While everyone danced inside you and Zemo lost yourself to the pleasure outside.

[goldencuffs]

untraditional

@lamenweek day five: traditions

Damen doesn’t think he’s supposed to feel so bone-weary at thirty-one.

Everything in his body aches, and he’s already greying at his temples. Last night, he had gone to bed at eight.

Theomedes doesn’t look up from the Ios Financial Times when Damen enters the Drawing Room. The table already has been set: Damen’s seat is, as usual, is to the left of his father, exactly fourty-seven centimetres apart. Damen’s food has been already served, because his father got here before him, and everyone gets served the same time as Theomedes.

Damen’s entire life has been dictated by these traditions, guidelines and precedents.

Some of them are good, but most of them are like this: nonsensical and elitist.

Even Theomedes’ and Damianos’ tea is prepared via strict protocol: one teaspoon of loose tea leaves per cup, heated to a hundred degrees celcius (seventy for green tea), with a tablespoon of organic, raw honey added straight to the teapot.

(It’s amazing tea, though).

Theomedes says, “Your food is cold.”

Damen stares at the pile of mash potatoes and salmon. “I’m not hungry.”

He also hates salmon, but Theomedes is the only one who sets the menu for the week with the head chef. Last week, they had roast beef and vegetables four times.

“You’re not still sulking are you?” Theomedes finally says, three minutes later.

Damen grips his table fork. He forces himself to do the breathing exercises Makedon had taught him.

In an ideal world, he wouldn’t reply, but in this one, everyone answered to the King.

“No, sir,” Damen says, and shoves a polite bite of food in his mouth.

“You haven’t had a meal with me in three weeks,” Theomedes says, and he sounds hurt and disappointed.

“Hmm,” Damen says. “I’ve been busy. You know I’ve been working on the preservation of Marlas with Nikandros.”

Theomedes crosses his fork and knife over his plate. Instantly, three different staff members rush forward to clear the table.

Damen’s plate is cleared too; no one eats after the King has left. Another useless, bane tradition.

“You know I did what’s best for you,” Theomedes says, looming over Damen.

When Damen nods, Theomedes kisses his temple. “You’ll realise it sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes, sir,” Damen says quietly, and rises only after Theomedes has left, as is protocol.

*

An hour later, the itch under Damen’s skin becomes unbearable, and he finds himself burrowing under the left corner of his mattress for certain… supplies.

He pulls on the red, shoulder-length curly wig with little care, and then the faux-leather beret. It’s peeling and terrible, but Damen doesn’t care.

The rest of his outfit is just layers: sunglasses, two coats, scarves, and a muted shirt, to hide as much of his body as possible.

He normally doesn’t leave so early in the day, when he’s being patrolled by guards and the Kyros.

Luckily, it’s only Nikandros who catches him, right outside his door.

His expression is flat. “You’re not serious. You’re leaving now? We’re in the middle of drafting the Delpha treaty!”

Damen shrugs. “I have to go.”

“You don’t have to—” Nikandros cuts himself off with a sigh. “Whatever. Can you please bring me back those caramel slices?”

Damen grins. “You got it, boss.”

Once he’s past the Main Foyer, the rest of the journey is easy: Damen takes an hour and a half train ride from Central Ios to Andris, and then a fifteen minute bus ride on the eighty-six. And then finally, an eight minute walk to the Andris Office District.

There’s a small bookstore there called Pocket Bookmark, painted emerald green, the lettering done in gold.

Inside, it’s not too busy: it’s not quite the end of a business day, and the customers in here are high school students, skimming the Shakespeare section, and a man hovering near the new releases.

Damen keeps his head down, weaving through the aisles.

Nicaise, the mouthy teenage cashier rolls his eyes when he sees Damen approaching, lifting up the wooden flap on on the bench, allowing Damen to duck through.

“Thanks, kid,” Damen says, mussing his hair.

“Ah, fuck off,” Nicaise grunts, but fondly. He’s warmed up to Damen ever since Damen bought him his first car. (Nothing too flashy, obviously).

Damen hurries all the way to the back, opening the door marked, No entry, and then goes up the narrow steps, which always make the worst creaking noises.

There’s another door a the small porch upstairs, and Damen fishes out the key in his pocket to open it.

Instantly, he’s hit with the smell of butter chicken simmering on the stove, and his mouth salivates. He dumps his entire attire by the small settee in the hallway, inhaling gratefully.

The second thing he’s greeted with is Wendy, who meows and claws at his leg.

“Come here, baby,” Damen murmurs, picking her up and holding her to his chest. She purrs and curls up, like a big ball of fluff and he kisses her head. “I love you so much.”

She meows in response, and snuggles closer.

Laurent turns off the stove in the tiny kitchen. He looks over his shoulder for just a second and scrunches his nose. “Ugh, she’s such a slut. I’ve been petting her for the last hour, but apparently I’m just not good enough.”

Laurent is in his after work attire: which means he’s as half dressed as possible. The shirt he’s wearing is one of Damen’s, and his shorts are the pair that shrunk in the wash; they ride too high up his thigh.

Laurent’s just come out of the shower: the hair at his nape is still wet, and his skin is pinked and glowing. Even with the curry, Damen can smell jasmine and coconut.

Laurent has got this sweet, soft smile that lights up his eyes.

It takes Damen’s breath away: not just Laurent, but this entire picture of domesticity. It’s all Damen’s wanted his entire life.

He means to make a snarky comment about Wendy, but what comes out is: “Marry me.”

Laurent drops the wooden spoon, eyes wide.

Damen grips Wendy too tightly and she lets out a shriek and jumps out of his arms.

They stare at each other for a moment. Damen’s heart is racing.

Laurent blinks. “Oh, sorry. I think I hallucinated for a minute.”

Damen steps forward, smiling. “It wasn’t a hallucination. Marry me.”

Laurent makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Are you asking me or telling me?” He swallows, eyes darting all over Damen’s face, his body. “I don’t see a ring,” he says quietly.

Damen groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit, I know. I had this whole plan, I was going to propose with the Queen’s ring, but obviously I’d have to talk to my father first and—” He sits down at the kitchen table, pulling out his phone. “There’s a courthouse ten minutes from here. It’s Thursday night, so they’re still open. We just need to show up with a signed ‘Intended Marriage Certificate’. It’s like three pages, we’ll be fine.”

“…Oh.” Laurent has gone very still. “You’re looking up courthouses. You’re serious.”

“Shit,” Damen says, watching him. “I’m so sorry. You—Do you want to marry me, Laurent? Because I’ve been dying to marry you since I first saw you. Er. No pressure, though.”

Laurent glares at him, affronted. “Of course I want to marry you, you fucking idiot!”

Damen leaps to his feet, grinning and flushed. “Fuck yeah! Let’s go print this form and—”

“Damen!” Laurent laughs, looking a little crazed. “We can’t just—Just wait a minute.”

“Alright. Shoot, baby.”

Predictably, Laurent flushes pink. “Is it even legal? Aren’t there special ceremonies for royals? And—and the King still thinks we broke up!”

Damen winces a little at that.

After an entire year of sneaking around, of meeting up in discreet hotels, and making plans to move in together one day, Damen had fucked up three weeks ago.

Drunk and enamoured, he had kissed Laurent outside his bookstore after a date. There had been photos—and the only saving grace had been the fact that Laurent’s face had been inscrutable.

But the fact that he was a commoner had been enough for Theomedes to unleash his rage. He had ordered Damen to break things off with Laurent, and Damen had pretended to, but… Well, Laurent had been hurt. It had been the first time he had realised how shaky their entire relationship was, how quickly it could come crumbling down.

Damen had spent days convincing him otherwise, and Laurent had finally agreed, but there had still been shadows in his eyes.

Now—now, though, Damen realises exactly what he can do, what he should have done months ago, to make Laurent realise he’s it.

“Fuck the King,” Damen says. He finally closes the distance between them, gripping Laurent’s hands. “Laurent, listen. I can still get married legally in a civil ceremony.”

“But—” Laurent bites his lip. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. And,” His voice grows small. “I know there’s so many rules and traditions you have to follow. I’ve read about the whole tradition where your father is supposed to gift you a diptych piece.”

Damen’s heart is warm. He smiles down at Laurent, smitten. “You’ve read up on royal wedding traditions?”

Laurent colours even more. “Of course.”

Damen kisses him hard, unable to bare the love swelling up inside him. Laurent flings his arms around Damen’s neck, his mouth emitting small, sweet gasps.

When they pull apart, Damen presses his forehead to Laurent’s. “Fuck the King,” he repeats. “Fuck the customs and rules and traditions. You are the only thing that matters to me. Just forget everything for a moment and answer: do you want to go downtown and marry me?”

Laurent’s smile overtakes his face, his eyes shining. “Yes,” he says softly. “I want to—so much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you in a better way or give you a ring or—”

“Stop. This was absolutely perfect.” He sighs. “You’re perfect.”

Damen kisses him again, pressing him to the counter. “I want you to have my mother’s ring.”

Laurent buries his head into Damen’s chest, overwhelmed. He nods.

Damen drops a kiss to his hair. “Get changed, baby. We’re getting married.”

Laurent looks up at him in wonder. “We’re getting married.”

[spiderlilyserendipity]

omg violet you write so well!! if you can, could you write a taehyung nsfw of while on vacation, tae's girlfriend wakes him up early with kisses and promises to do "whatever he wants" if he gets up with her and explores the city and tae holds her to that promise when they get back to their hotel starting with some steamy (private) hot tub sex?

Anon, you are awesome but you have ruined my brain. I got so carried away writing this fic, it is double the size I thought it would be. Many thoughts, head full typa situation. Thank you. This one is titled Only One. Enjoy <3

WC: 4475

Genres: Smut, fluff, angst

Tags: established relationship, anniversary dinners, tae x oc take a trip to Paris

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sir kink, punishment, praise kink, use of the word slut once, colour system as a safeword, insecurity, possessiveness, possessive sex, aftercare, taehyung is very 🥵🥵🥵 in this one y’all

(*Cis female reader*)

“Y/N, Y/N, should we take a picture over there?” Taehyung asks, batting his eyes cutely.

You smile but roll your eyes at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

Not to be mistaken, if there’s anyone who loves their boyfriend, it’s you. You would live and die for Kim Taehyung, but there’s a special reason for your eyeroll today.

It has been only two weeks since Taehyung got off tour, and at that a world tour. You know Taehyung must be very tired from constantly travelling, hence why you let your boyfriend get his full rest the first week. But the thing is you haven’t seen your lover in a year, and you want to make some memories with him. 

You know he will get too busy once the post-tour lull passes over everyone at the company and everything goes back to regular schedule. Then, Taehyung will get sucked away by album preparations, promotions once it’s out, and inevitably: another tour.

You love that Taehyung gets to do what he loves for a living. You also love how cool he looks on stage. But most of all you like getting to spend time with him. 

To be honest, you were going to go see Taehyung in Paris during the European leg of the tour. It had been your anniversary, and the two of you had plans to get dinner together and enjoy the city. But then life happened and your plans came crashing down, preventing you from seeing Taehyung until the tour ended months later.

But past you had thought quickly, knowing the day Taehyung would return home and shifted your ticket instead of cancelling. So a week after Taehyung got home, you presented him with a second plane ticket to Paris, France that you bought last minute just for him.

You thought Taehyung would agree with making up for your missed anniversary, but Taehyung had frowned instead. “Babe, I seriously don’t want to go anywhere for a while. I’m sick of hotels and planes.”

“But I’ve never been there, baby. It would be so romantic!” You convinced him eventually, your pout winning him over. Taehyung had sighed, then called his manager to let him know.

So excited from Taehyung agreeing, you had leapt up into his arms and kissed him like crazy. “Ahhh! I’m so excited!”

Taehyung had held back a grin. “Okay. But no touristy stuff.”

You pout. “But that’s the most fun part!” When Taehyung pouts back, you try to convince him again. “Baby, I promise I’ll seriously do anything you say if you do all the embarrassing touristy stuff with me.”

“Anything?” Taehyung asked you, arching a brow. 

You took his hand, nodding eagerly. “Anything. Let’s just have fun!”

Taehyung grinned at you. “You better keep your word.”

You had kissed him, grinning at him. He watched you with a fond smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You bet I will.” You vow.

It isn’t until you actually land in Paris that you realize what anything Taehyung is imagining.

For all his great qualities, Taehyung is not subtle about what he wants. Especially when he wants you.

The first three days, Taehyung lets you drag him around under the condition that you both wear disguises to avoid being noticed. You comply, picking odd hours of the day for activities that would be very busy at other times of day. You hit all the touristy spots in early mornings before the crowd, hide away in small tucked away cafes and restaurants with Taehyung during lunch hour, then spend the day browsing vintage stores for jewellery and clothes. 

It’s all fun and games except for the teasing that Taehyung will not stop. It’s hard for you to name a time of day where Taehyung’s big hands hadn’t been resting on your waist or his lips idly pressing a kiss to your cheek in passing. You know very well the game Taehyung is playing. He is slowly working you up, getting you used to his constant touches. Then, he will withdraw them, leaving you needy. 

Despite Taehyung’s teasing, the two of you still have a great time. You buy souvenirs for your friends and things for yourself. Taehyung also buys you clothes and jewellery, loving to spoil you. But what you love the most are the small establishments he brings you to, full of tasty food and where no one knows his name. You know the game Taehyung is playing, but you let him guide you to an isolated table towards the back and feed you food off his own utensils. You let him wipe the corner of your mouth for some smeared sauce, let him lick it off his thumb. Sometimes, you even get a little on your face on purpose. Taehyung notices when you do that, and lets you get away with it. After all, this isn’t a favour he’s doing you. This is your anniversary trip. He can’t be the only one getting away with teasing.

The following three days, the two of you hit the museums. Taehyung shows you around, explaining things he had seen on previous trips to Paris. You listen to him, happier to see him happy than to really look at the art. You take pictures of your boyfriend inside the museum and really anywhere it won’t catch too much attention.

Over those three days, Taehyung’s touches decrease. He reduces it little by little, but you know him well by now. Taehyung isn’t trying to be subtle, rather the opposite. He wants you to notice, to get riled up when his touch is gone. 

You tell yourself you don’t mind it, but both of you know it’s a lie. You ignore the smirk on Taehyung’s face every time you intertwine your hands or wrap an arm around his waist to guide him through the back roads. You will get back at him at dinner tonight.

After lunch on the final day, you tell Taehyung to head back to the hotel on his own. You say you are going to buy a new dress for your dinner date tonight, and that you want it to be a surprise for him. Chuckling, Taehyung just passes you his blackcard and tells you to have fun.

You buy a dark green coloured gown, Taehyung’s favourite colour, and a matching necklace and earrings set of emeralds. You smile at the sight of your ass being cupped by the silky material. This is sure to drive Taehyung mad. After all, tonight is the final night. Both of you know exactly how tonight will end.

You catch a cab to the five star Taehyung made a reservation at. You pay the taxi driver excitedly, getting out in your all new outfit, new heels, and even a new purse! You were sure to impress Taehyung.

You walk into the restaurant, telling the waiter who you’re here with. He lets you in, guiding you upstairs to your table.

You frown as you see your table. From this angle, you can’t see who, but Taehyung is talking to a woman. You approach quietly, catching neither of their attention. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, they’re talking loudly. You don’t speak much French but you don’t need it to deal with this woman. You hear her mention the word “model” and a woman’s clothing brand. You hear her repeat “model” a second time as she blatantly roams her eyes down Taehyung’s figure, then up at him. That’s the part that makes your blood boil. You know she is aware of your presence. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of relationship you and Taehyung have.

But she still challenges you anyway, openly eyeing your man in public. If you could speak more French than basic small talk you would rip her a new one. 

Fuck it. You think, making your way across the room. Who needs to know the language?

“Oh, baby.” You say in a sweet voice. They both look over at you. The woman looks visibly irritated, pursing her perfect lips in annoyance. What a shame you like to flirt with other women’s men. You think, slightly in awe at her beauty. I’d like you in any other situation. “Is this a friend?” You ask.

You see a hint of a smile before Taehyung bites it back. “No, Y/N. We just met tonight.”

You smile pointedly at the woman. She frowns at you. “Ah, I see. Well, it was nice meeting you. We haven’t had dinner yet, so.” You say, pretending to be apologetic for cutting the conversation short. All three of you know you’re not, but it’s the thought that counts. Or doesn’t. You couldn’t care less.

“Colour.” Taehyung asks the minute you’re back in the hotel room. 

“Green.” 

“Poor baby. Got so angry that I took my eyes off you, huh?” Taehyung teases, hooking his fingers in the band of your underwear. He pulls back, making it snap against your hips. You whimper. “What’s that? Are you trying to say something?” Taehyung taunts you.

He cranes his head to look at you. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He makes a fake-worried face. “That’s odd, you were talking perfectly fine a few hours ago. Was it something in the food that’s making you feel sick or are you just embarrassed from being a possessive little slut in front of sir?”

His words make you shiver. He grins as he feels it against his own abdomen. “It seems like you’re really sick, Y/N. I guess we'll just have to go to bed.”

He begins to unwind his arms from around your waist, but you grab them, holding them against your skin. “S-Sir.” You whisper.

“There’s my girl.” Taehyung says proudly, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple. “Let’s talk about what you did wrong tonight, shall we?”

“I-I was possessive. I got jealous because you were talking to that model.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker at the last word. “Oh, you heard?” He snaps the band of underwear against your skin again. You wriggle, but he refuses to let you go. “What a bad girl. Eavesdropping on sir’s conversations. What if she had been a potential colleague and you ruined everything? But you didn’t think of any of that, only your. own. feelings.” He emphasizes each of the three words with another smack. “You’re just an ungrateful little slut, aren’t you? I bet you would open your legs for any man that offered you this kind of treatment, huh?” He growls in your ear.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, voice cracking.

Taehyung stops. “Colour.” He says, thumbs gently stroking at your sides.

“Green.” 

“Y/N.” He repeats more firmly. You sniffle. A tear rolls down your cheek. Taehyung thumbs it away immediately. “We don’t have to. I’m sorry. Do you want to take a bath together? We can cuddle after. Anything you’re comfortable with baby.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “I’m really okay. I...I want my punishment.”

Taehyung turns you to look at him. He watches your face, looking for any unwillingness. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He smiles finally when he sees the familiar, hazy look in your eyes. You are already slipping into subspace.

“Follow me.” Taehyung says.

You walk behind him, still naked except for your panties. Taehyung is still entirely clothed in his suit and tie. He leads you to the fancy living room of the suite, and closes the curtains. You wait until he sits down to approach him. You observe his spread legs and the stern look in his eye. The air in the living room is freezing cold, but it only adds to it. This is one of the many things you love about Taehyung. How incredibly sexy he looks when he is in control.

Without being asked, you get on the sofa on your hands and knees. You drape your body over Taehyung’s lap, ass up in his lap. You fold your arms over the sofa’s armrest, turning your head to look at Taehyung. 

Taehyung’s warm hand caresses your ass. He kneads at the flesh roughly without breaking eye contact with you. On the outside, he looks indifferent, dark eyes sultry. He makes it look like he couldn't care less if it was you or another sub being bent to his will. But you know it’s part of the scene, that he’s watching you this intensely for your reaction and it is only your reaction he ever wants in a setting like this.

“You can safeword out if you need to.” He reminds you. You nod, putting your head against the armrest. “Count.” He tells you, before the first smack comes down.

You flinch on instinct, but his arm pins the backs of your thighs down. “One.”

Another smack but to the other cheek. You hiss under your breath. “Two.”

Taehyung gives the next three in succession. “F-Five.”

“Colour?” Taehyung re-checks. You reply green again. He delivers two more. “Six, ah, seven.”

The next two smacks are harsher. “Eight, nine一!” As you’re counting, Taehyung gives the final one. This one is the hardest of all, making the two of you sink a little lower into the sofa. “T-Ten.”

You are crying now, falling deeper into your subspace. Taehyung’s warm hands smooth over the places they hit. His voice murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, reassuring you.

“S-Sorry.” You continue to cry. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

“I know.” Taehyung reassures you. He helps you up into a sitting position. It burns to sit on your still painful ass, but you do so anyway because it’s Taehyung who asks you to do it. “You took my punishment very well, Y/N, just like a good girl.”

You shake your head, sniffling. “I don’t wanna be ‘a good girl’, I wanna be your good girl.” You say. Taehyung frowns slightly as he wonders what that means, then looks shocked when he realizes what you’re saying.

“You are my good girl, baby.” He says softly, wiping away your tears. “No one but you.”

“But i-it was our a-anniversary dinner and you were letting her flirt with you. You just一just let her do it. And when I called you baby at the restaurant, you only called me Y/N.” You confess, giving up your fake confident act. The truth is that despite your anger in the moment, you had felt very insecure. It wasn’t like you could blame the woman for finding your boyfriend hot, anyone would. But the fact that Taehyung never said anything back and just put up with it instead of correcting her bothered you. Was it embarrassing to admit he was dating you in front of a woman who was so obviously his equal in elegance? This thought bothered you throughout the whole dinner. 

You didn’t plan on telling Taehyung about it, since he didn’t know you sometimes felt this way. One of the reasons you insisted on travelling to make up for your missed anniversary was this doubt. Maybe if you showed him around this fancy city and you made good memories with him, he might appreciate it. Maybe then it would ease your doubt of if you were worthy enough to be his.

You had never admitted this aloud to anyone, but you actually wondered If Taehyung had women in other countries that he went on dates with during tour. You know Taehyung is a good person but after all, he is a young man with sexual needs. And at that, a very attractive man who could get with just about any woman he wanted. So yes, seeing him talk to the very attractive woman had angered you, but it also made you feel like your worst fears might be true. 

“Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Taehyung pleads you, his worried brown eyes searching your face for any answers.

“...Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course, my love.” Taehyung responds. “Ask me anything you want, baby.’

You sniffle. You play with his suit blazer. “Can you promise to not get mad at me?”

Taehyung looks like he might cry when you ask that. “I promise.”

“When you go away for tour...is there anyone else?” You watch your own tears fall onto Taehyung’s dress shirt. Taehyung looks shaken. “It might seem random but I’ve always wondered. I promise I’m not just acting up because of tonight.”

Taehyung continues to watch you, looking worried and at a loss for words. You put on a fake smile. “Sorry, it’s probably nothing. Let’s just go to bed.” 

Taehyung holds you by the waist, stopping you from getting up. “Y/N.”

“I said it’s fine. It’s okay. Really, even if you had another woman. I can’t control what you do when you’re not with me. A year is too long for a couple to spend apart anyway, it’s only natural that your feelings would change. It’s okay. Anyway,” You breathe shakily. “Anyway I’m still yours. As long as you like, of course.”

“Of course I like it.” Taehyung insists, tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you. Tell me how long you’ve felt like this.”

You hesitate. “Y/N.” There it is again, that firm tone that you hate outside of scenes. 

You look down at your hands. “Maybe two years?”

Taehyung is crying now, and he cups your face in his hands. “You’ve been thinking like this for two years? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...I didn’t want to burden you. You’re really busy on tour.”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Can I show you there’s no one else?”

You nod. Taehyung lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you by the backs of your thighs instead of your ass, careful not to hurt you. “The bed?” He asks. You consider the feeling of the rough sheets against your sore ass. 

You shake your head. “C-Can we use the hot tub?”

Taehyung kisses your forehead. “Anything for you.”

Taehyung sets up the hot tub for both of you. He takes your panties off for you, sliding them down your legs. He kisses you deeply, sweetly. You whimper into the kiss, his tongue completely in control of your mouth. When you part, a strand of saliva comes loose. When you part far enough, the saliva ends up on your chin. Taehyung wipes it with his thumb. A darkness has entered his eyes again. “Get in. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You get in the hot tub, relishing the feeling of the hot water. It stings a bit, but it’s easier to sit then the bed would have been. You sit with your legs spread slightly, calves tucked under you and feet beneath your ass. Neat and pretty. Just the way sir likes it.

Taehyung strips quickly once you’re in the water. Your eyes roam over his beautiful body, at the hard muscle of his chest, his bulging biceps, his caramel thighs, and his rigid cock. “Come here.” Taehyung orders as he gets in the water. You do so, climbing up into his lap. He kisses you hungrily, like this is the first time all night. You are surprised at the intensity of this kiss. You cannot recall a time Taehyung has ever kissed you so passionately in your years together, even in your roughest scenes. 

“So pretty.” Taehyung growls when you two part again. He wraps one arm around your waist to press your chest against his, then attacks your neck. You gasp as he makes love bites, all the way down your neck. He has never made this many before in total, yet he makes them everywhere tonight. He litters your collarbone and the top of your chest with them, making them bloom red at first but you know they will be a deep purple shade tomorrow. “How can you not know what you mean to me, when you’re this fucking beautiful? You drove me crazy in your dress tonight, no, you drive me crazy every fucking time I see you. Maybe even since the first time I met you.”

“S-Sir.” You moan at the praise, face heating up. Taehyung pushes you back against the wall of the hot tub. You tilt your head back against the tiles as he touches you everywhere. He uses his hands to tease at your nipples, making them harden. Even as he does it, he is grinding down on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. 

“You fucking know I am.” Taehyung snaps, losing the careful composure he wears during scenes. “You’re my one and my only. Look at yourself, so fucking lewd, all worked up by my touch. You have me wrapped around your finger and you still think I’d have another woman.” He continues, cursing in between his sentences at your sweet sounds.

“S-Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.” Taehyung cuts you off. You let out moans as he starts rubbing at your clit, hard and fast. You grind against his hand. In his dom persona, Taehyung would never tolerate you doing this, but both of you are too far gone tonight to follow the rules to a T. “I will clear this misunderstanding tonight. On your knees, princess.” 

You lean on top of the towel Taehyung placed for you on the tiles. Taehyung places his own knees outside of yours, and you feel his hard cock against your ass. Taehyung eases two fingers into you, wet from your arousal that it’s an easy fit. “Nnn, sir.” You plead, grinding down on him. 

“You won’t get more until you say what I want to hear.” Taehyung says next to your ear. He presses his chest into your back, pinning you to the edge of the hot tub. “Who do you belong to?”

“Sir! I belong to sir!” You cry out, and Taehyung picks up the pace.

“So fucking pretty.” Taehyung praises, kissing the marks he left on your neck. “Only you get treated like this, understand? No woman could ever be loved like this by me. Every time you forget I will bend you over my lap and make you come on my cock over and over until you get it in your head.”

You let out a particularly loud moan at that, making Taehyung smirk. “Does my princess like that, hmm? You want to get bent over and take my cock all the time? Want me to fill you up with my come, plug you with a pretty little toy, and make you go about your day?” Taehyung inserts another finger and the stretch has you whining. “Answer me.” He demands.

“I do. Ah, fuck, Taehyung. Please. I do.” You plead, tilting your head to the side. Taehyung meets you immediately in a passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, completely different from Taehyung’s usual style. Is this really what he can do when he lets go? You wonder, getting drunk on his kisses alone. You thought Taehyung had been rough before, but it’s nothing compared to tonight.

“Turn around.” Taehyung says, withdrawing his fingers. 

He takes in your needy expression, leaning in to kiss you again like he can’t get enough of you. “Can I come in you, baby? Have you been taking your pill regularly?” 

“Yes. Yes.” You chant. Taehyung laughs breathlessly, grabbing a fistful of your hip in one hand and lining himself up to your entrance.

When he enters, both of you moan. “So good. Whose are you, princess?”

“Yours, only yours.” You answer breathlessly. Taehyung grips your thighs and lifts you slightly, allowing him to enter you more deeply. 

Taehyung abruptly picks up the pace of his thrusts. You grip at his shoulders for support, unable to stop the noises that fall from your lips constantly. Not only is Taehyung going fast, he is also going incredibly deep, rubbing right over your G-spot. 

“C-Can I come, sir?” You beg.

Taehyung nods, and you move one hand between your legs to rub at your clit. As you tip your head back, Taehyung holds himself deep inside you. Both of you come at the same time, you clench hard around him and Taehyung pumps his seed inside you. He kisses at the marks on your neck as he comes, and you dig your nails into his back. 

You move your hand to his hair once you finish, stroking it gently. Taehyung pulls back from the wall, his hand smoothing down your back to ease any discomfort you felt being pressed against it. You don’t even notice until the postcoital bliss dies down that your ass was now more sore than before. But Taehyung does. 

“Let’s take a shower.” He tells you, helping you up. You both get out of the hot tub. Taehyung runs a small handcloth under the tap. He comes over and wipes your vagina down first, then cleaning himself. 

The two of you get in the shower together. You let Taehyung wash your body down, scrubbing gently and avoiding touching your ass. You grab his shampoo off the ledge and put a good amount in your palms. “What are you doing?” Taehyung asks, surprised that you turned around while he was washing your back.

“Taking care of you.” You mumble, washing Taehyung hair for him. You grab the detachable showerhead from the side. You shield his eyes with a hand as you rinse the soap out.

Taehyung smiles fondly at how concentrated you look. “Baby, a dom is supposed to look after their sub following a scene. Not the other way.”

You shrug. You probably heard that somewhere. Your brain is too foggy right now to think. “But I want to.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes.” You answer, smiling at how nice Taehyung’s hair looks now that it’s clean. “Because I belong to you.”

Taehyung lightly pecks your forehead. “And I’m yours.”

Later, when the haze of your subspace wears off, you two are laying in bed together. You’re wearing one of Taehyung’s shirts and a pair of panties. Taehyung is shirtless and in a pair of boxers. Taehyung has just finished putting lotion on your sore bottom to ease the ache for tomorrow. 

You lay on top of Taehyung’s chest, and Taehyung tucks the blankets tucked in around you. You snuggle up against his chest, content in his strong arms.

“Y/N, I know I already proved my point, but you really are my only one.” Taehyung tells you. You don’t reply so he cranes his head to look at you. Taehyung smiles fondly to notice you’re already asleep. He kisses the top of your head. “No problem. I guess I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.” He mutters to himself.

You smile to yourself with your eyes closed.

Requests are open (✿◡‿◡)

[nikethestatue]

Name Day

Thanks to @tswaney17 for the inspiration and the idea! Sometimes this is what happens one afternoon when we start thinking of Azriel’s and Elain’s baby’s names.

Her whimsical tale of Elain’s and Bryaxis’ friendship can be found here It’s a good prep for this story

This is the continuation of my Azriel and Elain’s baby story The Depth of Your Eyes which can be found here 

No warnings. Fluff and babies. 

Name Day

“Will you calm down?” Nesta asked. She was shaking her head, wearing nothing but a satin slip, as she was brushing her hair.

“I am down!” Cassian retorted, eyeing himself in the mirror, smoothing his hair.

“You’d think you are a maid on your first courting,” muttered Nesta, as she began to braid her hair slowly, amused by her mate, as he preened before the mirror.

“I want to look appropriate,” he explained. “We are Guardians. It’s an important position.”

“Yes, I know. But this is the fifth or sixth shirt that you’ve tried on. We are coordinating colours. Your outfit is all ready and waiting and I don’t understand why you are fussing so much,” she slid on the bed and cooed to the baby, who was observing all this commotion with quiet amusement.

“Gods, he is a puffball,” it was Cassian’s turn to shake his head, watching the baby in the reflection of the mirror.

“He is a little fatty,” Nesta agreed, “but he is already dressed and ready to go. While you…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian looked at the shirt that Nesta had selected and began re-dressing for the fifth time today. “Do we still not know the name?”

She shrugged. “No.”

He proposed, “what if it’s something really strange?”

Nesta rolled her eyes slightly, as she slipped into her powder-blue velvet and lace gown, and approached her mate, her bare back turned to him. He began buttoning her up, without her prompting, while kissing her neck gently.

“He is watching,” she reminded him, but her eyes closed and she stroked his cheek, as her head lay on his shoulder.

“He is a baby.”

“He is Azriel’s baby,” she noted. “He is always watching!”

Cassian huffed in agreement. Azriel’s baby did indeed watch everything and everyone with interest and calm assertion, as if planning a strategy in his head. He reclined in some bouncy contraption, his short arms thick with multiple folds, and resting contently on his round belly. For a month-old infant, he sure looked like he was about six months at least. And not only because of his impressive heft, but also his scrutinizing gaze, that floated from object to person, taking in every detail.

Cassian cupped Nesta’s bottom in his wide palm and squeezed lightly,

“You want to…” he murmured hotly in her ear and she screeched in response, “Noooo! Are you insane? We are not doing that in front of our baby nephew.”

“We can turn him around,” Cassian suggested, unrelenting.

“Get dressed!” she snapped.

Cassian offered a petulant sigh in response and she stepped out of his arms, while he began buttoning his own shirt.

“So, no name?”

“How complicated can it be?” she pondered, stretching on the bed, and offering a rattle to the baby, who wasn’t hugely entertained by it, but took it nevertheless. “He is Elain and Azriel’s son. They are not…They are not you,” she added at last.

“What about me?”

“Well, they are not going to name him Stormwind Lightning Strike Archeron. Or Fireheart Blazing Ruby Archeron,”

“Both,” he interrupted her quickly, snapping his fingers, “are excellent names! I am putting them on the list.”

“No list!”

“Yes, they go on the list,” he insisted.

“You know,” she stroked her nephew’s soft black curl on top of his round head, “it will be something elegant and simple. Oren. Lorien. Rivendell… Something like that.”

“Boring,” huffed Cassian, finally slipping into his trousers.

At first, he wanted to go to the ceremony in full armour, to bring his nephew into the ‘warrior spirit’ right away, according to him. Elain gently suggested that perhaps, that’s a little much for a baby naming ceremony.

The door to Nesta’s River Manor opened quietly and Azriel slipped in.

“What’s boring?” he asked with a smile. Especially when his baby boy almost leapt from his bouncy seat at the sight of him. “Hello, my love,” he whispered, sitting on the bed and immediately kissing the baby’s little fist. “I’ve missed you already…Mama is still getting dressed. And she is going to be the most beautiful mama in the world,” he glanced at Nesta, “well, I mean,”

Nesta smiled and waved her hand dismissively, “She will be. Besides, I am not a mama,”

“Not yet,” piped Cassian quickly.

“Not yet a mama,” she agreed peacefully, “so Elain can claim the title.”

She observed the normally cool, composed, detached shadowsinger absolutely disintegrate in front of his son into a puddle of loving coos, belly rubs and kisses. She’d seen him soft and loving and gentle with Elain, which was an unusual sight in itself, but this was something else entirely.

“So, what’s boring?” Azriel remembered, as he rocked the baby against his chest.

“The name…Are we ever going to find out?” Cassian inquired, tightening his belt and looking at Azriel. “As Guardians, don’t you think we should know?”

“Oh, and you think my baby’s name will be boring?” Azriel cocked his brow.

“Well, it’s not going to be Thunderheart Powerwarrior,” muttered Nesta under her breath.

“I didn’t say that,” Cassian argued quickly.

Azriel gave him a measured look and then offered a resigned sigh, “I suppose you should know,”

“What is it?” exclaimed Cassian eagerly, rubbing his hands. Nesta perked up as well, “Yes, what is it?”

“Bryaxis,” said Azriel calmly, kissing his son’s cheek.

Cassian paled.

Nesta blanched.

“Are you fucking nuts?” groaned Cassian, a terrified expression on his face.

Nesta, who stood near him, elbowed him, muttering, “stop cursing in front of an infant!”

“An infant that these deranged parents want to name Bryaxis!” bellowed Cassian.

Then, Cassian stepped forwards and extended his arms, “No. No. Give me the baby!”

“Why?” Azriel pressed his son a little closer.

“No. You cannot be trusted with a child!” growled Cassian, his eyes blazing, “Absolutely not! Pfff,” he huffed loudly, “Bryaxis! Bryaxis!”

He was then almost speechless, just shaking his head silently, giving Nesta wild looks.

“Umm,” she interjected quietly, “are you sure?” she looked imploringly at Azriel. This was a shock indeed. What in the seven hells were they thinking?

“You know Bryaxis is Elain’s friend,” reminded them Azriel, a smile playing on his lips. “So, we thought,”

“No,” snarled Cassian. “Give me the kid! Right now,”

“Are you going to run away with him?” inquired Azriel.

“If I have to. If I must save him and keep him away from you two crazies, then yes!”

“He is still my son,”

“Not anymore. Not when you decided to name him Bryaxis!”

“But Bryaxis is a,”

“Shut up, Az,” Cassian visibly shuddered at the memory.

He never did accept Elain’s friendship with the monster that was Fear itself. Never understood how she willingly went to the depths of Library to chat with the Darkness and allowed it to roam the gardens of her villa. Thankfully, it was secluded enough not to have Bryaxis terrify everyone in sight.

“He is your neighbour,” reminded him Azriel with a chuckle. “He actually lives in your house!”

“Hey, it’s not because I invited him!” argued Cassian. “If you want it, you can have it, and it can live in your house! Since your wife is such good friends with it.”

The door was thrown open after a sharp knock and Mor appeared on the doorstep, “What is the delay?!!” she demanded by way of her greeting.

Before anyone could respond, she ordered, “Come on! Let’s go! Everyone is waiting,”

Azriel handed the baby to Nesta, and whispered something in her ear.

“Please don’t run away with my child,” he begged his brother.

Cassian begged, “Please don’t name your child Bryaxis! Az, ple-“

But Azriel disappeared in a swirl of his shadows.

It was a lovely, sunny morning. The emerald green lawn of the River Estate was set up with benches and chairs, which were decorated with ribbons and the colours of the Night Court and Azriel’s cobalt blue.

The small group of guests were seated, informally, around a gazebo that was made of branches and decorated with garlands of blue flowers of every colour and hue. Azriel and Elain stood there, hand in hand, waiting for the Guardians to bring the baby forth.

At last, Cassian and Nesta appeared, Cassian holding an Illyrian shield, which was draped in Azriel’s baby blanket. Somehow, Azriel’s mother kept the simple, worn thing all these years, patching it over the centuries, to keep it presentable just for this occasion. Upon the shield, the baby lay, tugging on his feet, trying to roll over the edge, and being barely contained by his nervous aunt.

At last, Cassian and Nesta stopped under the gazebo. Cassian’s eyes were pleading with a silent lament, looking at his brother.

He didn’t hear half of what Rhys was saying. The baby was being welcomed into the fold of its people, as a citizen and son of the Night Court, as an Illyrian warrior, and as a son and protector of his people. Nesta finally grabbed the future ‘protector of his people’ off the damn shield, before he could tumble onto the grass below.

Cassian mutely shook his head, giving Azriel a death stare.

Once a bit of honey was dabbed onto the baby’s lips—for a sweet life—Feyre asked,

“Who names this child?”

“We do,” said Elain and Azriel in unison.

“What name will the child carry?” asked the baby’s grandmother.

With a heavy sight, Cassian joined Nesta’s hand in covering the baby’s head and then,

“Elessar Ramiel,” said Nesta loudly.

Cassian’s eyes blew wide. He whipped his head to Azriel and Elain, who were trying to stifle their laughter, shaking soundlessly against each other, looking at him.

Under the shield, he flashed both of them a vulgar gesture.

Well, at least it wasn’t Lanthys.

“Elessar Ramiel Archeron,” Cassian then repeated loudly alongside Nesta.

[newtonsheffield]

Since Simone looks so amazing in that red dress at Wimbledon…could we have something about Anthony simping for Kate in red?

Okay but let’s get real: Is there an unflattering picture of Simone Ashley in existence? I doubt it.

Simone Ashley release a bad picture of yourself challenge. Purely so my self esteem can stop taking such a nosedive. Though let’s get real… she probably still looks amazing.

Simp Anthony is my favourite thing to write, as we know, The boy does know any other way to be around Kate. He would lay down in a puddle and let her step on him so her shoes didn’t get wet. We all know it.

Anthony had never been a very big fan of bright colours. He dressed in navy, or black, or grey for work and softer beiges and creams at home. He had the occasional sweater that was a Royal blue, or a dark purple, but nothing beyond that. It seemed to suit the kind of drab monotony that his life had become in the last 13 years, and he was fine with that. And then Kate Sheffield had stormed into his office like a tornado in Emerald green and his life had never been the same.

Kate wore bright colours, always. Emerald green,and sunflower yellow, and deep golds, and bright blues, like an never ending rainbow on her body and it was honestly, a little breathtaking. Even when Anthony had been in denial, he hadn’t been able to deny how beautiful Kate was. Her long dark hair that always seemed to hang over her shoulders like a curtain, and her eyes flashing brightly, intelligently, seemed to call to him like a siren, no matter how he tried to rail against it. And honestly, the only reason he hadn’t thought it the very first time he saw her was because his mind was preoccupied trying to figure out why her eyes looked so familiar. When he’d seen her at lunch, the lighting in the kitchen shining in her hair, making her eyes shine, the green of her blouse bright against her skin his breath had caught a little. And he knew he’d probably spend the rest of his life wishing he’d said what he desperately wanted to My god, You’re so beautiful.

And he had subconsciously chosen a green sweater when he went to dinner with her and Edwina and Eloise, because that was the first colour he’d ever seen her in. The first time he looked at her, and even then something seemed to recognise that his life wasn’t the same anymore. And when she walked into Daphne’s party with him wearing a dress almost exactly the same colour, he’d thought he’d never see anything as beautiful as the way green looked on Kate. And then, on their second date, the very next night, her dress was red. And Anthony became just a little more unhinged.

There was something incredibly sinful about it, how the deep scarlet contrasted with her skin so beautifully, her red lipstick standing out as well, and it had made Anthony want to press his lips to hers again and again until he was marked by it as well. He spent the entire night trying not to stand abruptly from the table and drag her into the tiny bathroom like some sort of depraved lunatic. And at the end of the night he was almost loathe to peel it off her, his voice rough in her ear when he said I really liked that dress. And he was fairly certain Kate liked the colour as well, though he knew it wasn’t her favourite, because there seemed to be a fair amount of red in her wardrobe, blouses for work, and sweaters, and shoes, the lingerie that he had bought for her because he knew how confident it made her feel and he’d seen it and ached to see the colour tight against her. And honestly, maybe he was just a little unhinged, he really couldn’t say.

But as his eyes stalked her across the terrace at the All England Club, the sun beating down on her, shining in her hair, her eyes wide as she spoke with his sister, he really couldn’t bring himself to care. The summer sun seemed to be casting a halo around her, the orangey-red of her dress in stark comparison to the endless sea of cream and beige, and Anthony longed to go over to her, and tug her into a very dramatic kiss, so that everyone could see that she was with him. The engagement ring burning a hole in his heart as it sat, nestled between some sweaters.

“She’s very pretty isn’t she?” Her step mother’s voice pulled him from his slightly unsavoury thoughts, his ears burning a little. “She always was, even when she thought she wasn’t. And I never knew why she couldn’t see it.”

“She’s beautiful. I thought so the first day I met her.” His voice was practically a whisper, he was sure Mary could barely hear him over the chatter. But she cleared her throat a little emotionally anyway.

“Eyes back in your head Bridgerton, she’s coming over.” Edwina’s voice smirked, appearing from seemingly nowhere though honestly, as far as Anthony was aware she could have been standing there for quite some time. And when Kate Sheffield walked over to him, his patience snapped, his arms reaching for her, dropping her into a pretty dramatic dip, their lips finally meeting and not even Edwina’s

“Oh for the love of Christ.” Could ruin it. It only got her a clip on the back of the head from her mother.

And the next time someone asked him what his favourite colour was, it fell from his lips before he could stop himself.

“Red.”

[pvrpleblccd]

As the world caves in.

syposis : It was now or never. This was his only chance, never will he have another chance like this.

pairing : dreamwastaken x f.reader

tw : angst, sad, tradegy, death, mentions of death/suicide, mc going through a very rough time

~

ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴄᴀᴠᴇs ɪɴ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴍᴀʟᴛᴇs

I fell on my knees, looking at my family laying on the floor, white foam and another odd colour of a substance coming out of their mouths. My hand started to tremble as I reached out for my little siblings hand. It was cold. I couldn't help, but sob. Looking at their faces made me weak, it was pale, way too pale and far from its original tone. Their expressions will be one that will be engraved with me, they looked somehow peaceful, if it wasn't for the foam, we could mistaken for them to be asleep.

I put my palm on their cheeks, taking in their features for the last time, they're so young, way too young. They barely lived. There's so much ahead of them. They were looking forward to their lives, I was supposed to watch them grow up and see them graduate. Watch them enjoy their lives and, maybe, them eventually becoming parents.

My head suddenly turned to my parents, I looked at their faces and both of them held a small smile with dried tears clearly noticeable on their faces. My eyes glanced down on their hands, they were hold each other's hands, with their wedding rings on. Another sob came out of my mouth and hoped that they were able to move on with their next life. I felt a tiny happy feeling inside of me, my parents were divorced and they separated, but seeing them like this.. It made me feel.. somehow happy.

My tears were never ending. They kept on falling as I let out a scream. It hurt. My family is gone, without me, and soon I too will be gone. But I did not wanted to go, not yet.. Not alone. I got up and grabbed a blanket, placing it over my family. I noticed one of our gardening flowers in the living room, it was withering, but I took it and placed it on top of the blanket.

"Thank you.. For everything. I hope you were able to move on. I love you all... May we meet again."

A hiccup escaped my mouth, I quickly wiped my tears even though they kept on coming. My eyes went to the TV, the timer kept on going down and flashing, reminding me the time I had left to live the life I couldn't live at its fullest. I clenched my jaw and threw the closest thing to me on it, which was a family frame and made my way to the front door, locking it, out of habit and looked at my house I've lived it for the past 18 years.

All the good and bad memories flashing in my head, finally arriving to the conclusion even if I mostly had downs, I've enjoyed many moments of it. I was still glad to be able to live, experiencing things, even though I would have experienced more. Then the feeling of regret came to me, I shouldn't have wasted the time and moments I locked myself up in my room.

"Goodbye... My memory box."

With that, I made my way to the usual hangout of my friends and I. There was one more thing I wanted to say to someone first. The thought of them gone came across my head and my walking became jogging then running. The people in the streets were wildly insane. Some celebrating, some were trying to loot places before entering their bunkers, some were making out, some were crying. There were too many things happening, it terrified me. The sirens started to go and a mix of screaming, cheering and crying could be heard.

"I don't have much time... I need to see him... Its- AHH!"

The sound of guns could be heard, people started to shoot each other and a bunch of troubled people descended their vehicles and screamed 'We're all going to die soon, give up your life already'. That sentence caused a havoc amongst the people, bodies started to flop on the ground and blood spattered everywhere, this made me run faster. I stop dead in my tracks as I came face to face with the silent guy in my physics class who I would always bring his favourite chocolate chips cookie. My hands immediately went up as soon as I saw the crossbow he was holding.

“Nerd.”

Every step he took, made me insides hurt me even more. I would always try to cheer him up or make him smile or even get to open up, in the end I would always be the one ending up talking about how much of a wuss I am when I would always fail to get along with him again. He came up to me, his long pink hair swaying by his side, I closed my eyes and waited for the agonizing pain, but it never came, instead, I was engulfed in a warm hug. My eyes shot wide open as I returned the hug and squeezed the man.

“Thank you for being a wonderful friend to me. You made me feel things that a normal teenager should feel. What do they call it? Fireflies? No, I think it was butterflies. But too bad, it’s time to say goodbye now. I do admit, I will miss your rants.”

“Techno-“

“Dave, now go. Go to him.”

“Dave… thank you.”

I felt him give a small peck on my cheek before he turns away gracefully, I fully took note of what he was wearing, it was beautiful. He was dressed as if he was a king or even a god, his red cape flowing through the wind perfectly. I smiled and continued my course. After making turns, I finally arrived to the hangout spot, my running turned into jogging then walking, then I finally stopped, seeing his tall figure and his signature long brown coat and beanie.

"Wil-"

There he was. Comforting her, whispering things in her ear. The both of them were sitting on the bench we made, so the whole gang could fit in it. She looked up to him, her tears still falling down. I saw him lean in and she did the same thing. My breathing stopped. My head and thoughts went numb. Both of their eyes closing, lips about to touch. Before I could see the action happen, I was turned around, my face making contact with a torso and my body embraced in a hug. My sobs were silenced by the loud sirens. It hurts. He knew I liked him, he knew and now he's there kissing Niki.

My best friend.

I confessed to him, only to have him tell me he wanted space to think. Niki knew I liked him as well, hell she was the one who helped me gather my courage to go confess to him. Was I that oblivious to not notice the sudden change in Wilbur's behaviour whenever he saw Niki close or the way he talked, always harsh to me, but always soft to Niki? And the look he held in his eyes when I'm with him, nothing but boredom and annoyance and when Niki showed up, his eyes would light up and smile immediately. He would always find a way to finis the conversation quickly so that he can go talk with her.

I was blinded by what I thought was love.

"Let it out.. Let it all out y/n."

I recognized who it was just by the sound of his voice. Clay. I hugged him tighter, before my knees gave up, the both of us ending up on the ground. Never once Clay let me go. His arms were around me in a protective manner, his hand caressing my back and felt him humming something, head still on his chest.

Clay.

The one who was always been there for me when I was at my lowest and needed someone. The one who always took me out of my cave of a room when I was sad. The one who would stay up all night to play games with me. The one who helped me the most when my older sibling died. The one who would encourage me to go hang out with Nick, George and him when the others were having a chill hangout when I wasn't invited. The one who always cheered me up when I was gloomy and unwell. The one who always visited me whenever I missed a day in school.

He was the one who truly cared about my health.

The only one who truly cared about me.

I looked up to him, taking in all his features for the first time. His freckles sprayed perfectly on his face, his blonde hair was displayed in a messy way, they were wavy, reminded me of Wilbur's. His eyes were closed, eyelashes long as ever, lips looking plum and nose looking boopable. He wore a simple outfit, jeans with black converse and his signature lime green hoodie with a smiley face of it. The small breeze made his hair slightly move to the wind and made his eyes open. Those beautiful emerald green eyes.

Oh, they were the prettiest colour I've ever seen. Just looking at them, I got lost in them. They would always gave me a sort of warm and welcoming feeling. How could've I not looked at him like this before? Never once I fully took in his features. Clay, is the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

Why was I always focused on Wilbur?

When the one who truly cared for me, was always by my side?

A wave of guilt hit me, my vision becoming blurry ones again, Clay must've felt my shaking and heard my sobs once again. He looked down to me, eyes meeting each other's and a soft smile came across is beautiful face. I was no longer held in a hug, but his hands made contact with my cheeks, cupping them. He wiped away my tears with his thumb and put his forehead on mine. I found it selfish that I enjoyed this, Clay was always there for me and I wasn't able to pay his kindness.

"Clay... Why? You were always there for me, but.. I don't understand.. why?"

"It's you, y/n. It's always been you. I was head over heels for you, ever since I saw you for the first time. As we grew closer, I fell even more for you. Y/n, you're a wonderful woman, you're fucking gorgeous and you're amazing. Wilbur's a fucking asshole for not accepting you, the man fucked up and seeing you losing your smile.. It broke me. It fucking broke me. I didn't want you to lose that precious smile. You're an amazing person and you deserve the world, I.. I couldn't give you all of the things you deserve.

You went through so much and it always broke me seeing you unwell and unstable. I don't know how you do it... You're so fucking strong. After all that.. You still managed to keep a smile and be an optimist. I know that happy persona is nothing but a front, I know, trust me. — he paused for a moment, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear — Darling, you have no idea how lucky and happy I am to be able to see the real you. Every moment I spent with you, were the best moments in my life, Y/n."

I took in all of his words and played them in my head several times. I felt his thumb caressing my cheeks and hear him sniffle. I noticed the tears rolling down his face and this made something explode in my heart. I never saw Clay cry. Never once this man showed any sign of sadness or whatsoever before. Taking in on the fact that he was always on the one sided love destroyed me. He was making sure I was doing okay even though it meant to destroy him.

My thoughts were fighting against each other. All of the moments I have spent with Clay played in my head all over again. Remembering all of the times he would make me blush, because we would compliment me. The times were we would tease each other. The times were we would both pretend to be lovers just to be able to get 'couple discounts' and 'couple contests'. The moments I truly felt happy. And finally... The moment he would always make my heart skip a beat and give me butterflies. All of the thoughts led me to one conclusion that was written everywhere, all of the signs were there, but I was too blind actually see it...

Clay was the one I truly loved.

My eyes flickered to the object in the sky, slowly but quickly approaching us. I panicked and placed my hands on his cheeks. He looked at me in the eyes, his were red due to the crying and his expression was even more hard to take in. My breathing started to quicken, I shook my head, wanting to talk with him more, figure things out, but the object in the sky was making me stressed.

"Why..?! W..Why haven't you said anything Clay..?! I... Why only now??"

He looked up seeing the nukes coming closer and clenched his jaw. He once again faced me and pressed his lips against mine. My eyes immediately closed, suddenly forgetting about everything happening around us. Never wanting for this moment to end. When he pulled away, he pulled me back to reality. The sounds of the nukes coming was getting louder and louder. The lights started to blind my view.

"Clay.. Clay! N..No.. We can talk about this... I.. We can fix this... We can..."

Clay engulfed me in a hug, caressing me, trying to calm my horrified self. I clung onto the man whom I've realized, was the one. My cries were loud, I felt drops of water on my shoulder. He too was crying. Kissing my forehead on last time, he smile at me saying his final words.

"In another life... Maybe, it will be meant to be."

I looked at him for the last time, accepting my fate and gave him a genuine smile, for the first time.

"I love you."

unedited

published : June 20 2021, 4:40 am

modified : August 25 2021, 12:25pm

[comfortwriting]

Maniac - G.W

George Weasley x Reader one shot/imagine inspired by the song ‘Maniac’ by Michael Sembello

About: George admires his crush (the reader) flourish as she discovers who she is and what she wants as she recovers from the toxic, abusive relationship she’s broken free from, her life takes a very interesting turn.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, partying.

This time last year you thought you found the love of life, despite all the warnings you collected from other girls in the above years - you ignored them and followed your heart. At first, he was kind, romantic, very chivalrous, especially in front of said friends and family; but behind closed doors he became a monster. 

George Weasley, your close friend fell for you the very moment he laid eyes on you. He too warned you about the guy you were seeing, but you didn’t want to believe it “he isn’t like that” you defended him.

Within months your relationship turned sour, you weren’t the same girl anymore, your lover - this monster - had complete control over you. He picked what you could and couldn’t wear, eat and study, he chose who you could and couldn’t be friends with and if you were to go against him you would turn up to class the next morning covered in bruises. The abuse got so bad you had to wear layers under your robes, you were never around for meal times and for lack of a better word, 

George felt like he was losing you.

He tried confronting your partner but there was little to no proof that he was the one responsible - after all, the monster pulled the wool over your eyes with his lies, he could do the same with everyone else and use magic if he felt at risk of exposure. 

You were failing all of your classes, losing friends, your hair dropping out, your weight plummeting but worst of all, George didn’t look at you the same anymore; his eyes usually flickered on like Christmas lights - but when he looked at you during the worst time of your life, his eyes didn’t light up, they screamed at you, begging to break free.

Exactly one year later you gathered all the courage you had stored inside of you and it burst out like a balloon filled with too much air, you weren’t afraid of him anymore, you weren’t afraid of anyone, you wouldn’t be controlled anymore not by him or anyone, you would be living YOUR life the way YOU want; no matter what other people have to say or think.

Returning to Hogwarts without the presence of the monster, everyone's jaws dropped but not as big as the boy who always longed for you; George.

The lights that went out of those beautiful eyes of his lit up for the first time in so long but now they were as bright as the moon on a dark and cold winters night, illuminating the sky.

Cat-walking through the great hall to join the first great feast everyone turned their heads following you.

Your hair now long, thick and silky reached your lower back swaying with every move. You weren’t withering away anymore, your cheeks now filled with colour and there wasn’t a bruise in sight on your body. You smirked at the lads gaping at your skirt length but you took the compliment - you finally realised your worth and you wanted to flaunt it. You were the dove in a room full of crows.

Just a steel town girl on a Saturday night Lookin' for the fight of her life In the real-time world no one sees her at all They all say she's crazy

“Where's y/n?” George asked a few familiar faces sat at the Gryffindor table.

“Don’t know” his friend Lee Jordan replied, smirking “she went out last night to Hogsmeade all dressed up, she’s probably still partying!”

“She’s mental that one” Ron chipped in, earning a glare from George.

Speaking of the devil you strolled up to the table sitting down next to George, he could smell the booze on your breath but didn’t say anything. 

“What's up guys?” you smiled brightly fighting sleep, drinking Harry’s pumpkin juice.

Fred gave George an amusing look “Where have you been all night?” he asked.

You had got yourself dolled up for a house party in Hogsmeade someone was throwing, you didn’t know who but you wanted to go wild and have fun after being unable to mutter a word to your friends or even step foot in that area for a year, you wanted to take the bull by its horns. 

George watched you, star struck by your presence. Your long hair tied up in a high but messy pony tail, your tight fitting velvet emerald dress (more than enough to impress the most uptight Slytherins) outlining the best your body before it’s length ended at your mid thigh. You put on crimson red lipstick and blushed, spotting George taking you in through his reflection the mirror. 

Arriving to the small house in Hogsmeade you shared drinks with the strangers, dancing and having a laugh playing the most ridiculous drinking games they learnt from Muggles at a pub in London. You crashed out on the sofa and awoke just before breakfast, you took off your high heels and ran as fast as you could to freshen yourself up before class. 

“I went out” you breathed out, wiping the pumpkin juice from your lips with your sleeve “thanks Harry!” you smiled at him, putting the glass down and running off to your first class. 

George sat there speechless, amazed at your transformation and happiness. 

Locking rhythms to the beat of her heart Changing movement into light She has danced into the danger zone When the dancer becomes the dance

You took your new found freedom with you everywhere, you felt on top of the world and capable of anything. You were over achieving in all the classes you previously failed, causing Snape for the first time in his teaching career to award Gryffindor House points. 

When you weren’t in class or studying in the library being followed by a swarm of fan boys and girls, you were always in Hogsmeade; attending house parties or going to the pub with a group of eager college boys. 

George felt jealous of the attention you were giving these boys but he didn’t utter a word, no matter who you were with or what you were doing, as long as you were happy and safe that’s all that mattered to him.

You were upbeat and incredibly impulsive, professors often joking that if they poked you hard enough you would burst out into confetti stars. 

Fred and George took advantage of your new found energy when it came to pulling pranks and inventing items for their business, you had managed to upstage them and somehow even outdo them on a handful of pranks, George felt amazed that after all this time someone was so close to stealing his and Fred’s thunder.  

However, with all of this madness and adrenalin chasing you, strapped under your belt you started being followed by consequences. You were spinning out of control but you were happy, you were starting to get incredibly intoxicated on your freedom. 

It can cut you like a knife, if the gift becomes the fire On a wire between will and what will be

Minding your business on the Quidditch pitch watching George practice, sporting your blackeye from the night before you heard a familiar screech yell out from below. “There's that bitch who snogged your lad last night!”

You went to yet another house party, stupid on your part as it was a Sunday and you were itching towards your exams. You noticed that these so called ‘fan girls’ you gained had turned nasty, since your flourishing they weren’t able to get dates. 

You accidentally had everyone, both men and women wanting a piece of you; but a group of girls from Slytherin and Ravenclaw surprisingly fused together, vowing to bring you down.

You drank way too much with a college guy who had ginger hair, you thought it was George and you made a move on him - you believed he was single because that's what he told you; he lied.

His girlfriend, a Ravenclaw paid a girl in Slytherin to follow you, to see how you were able to gain such a following, she became furious when she realised no magic spell or potion had been used - people liked you for you.

Catching you kissing him gave her just what she needed to cause your fall from grace, storming into the pub she pulled you off him and punched you, you were too drunk and embarrassed to stand your ground then but now you were waiting.

“Oh fuck off will you!” You yelled down at them, you stood up from the stands and walked down, pushing past them. 

The group of girls followed you, the Ravenclaw getting closer grabbed you by your hood, smacking you around the head repeatedly. “Don’t you ever go near him again!” 

George could see the commotion and flew beside you and dismounting his broom “what the fuck is going on? Bore off!” he yelled at the girls, pulling you away from them.

“He told me he was single!” you screamed at her “and I thought he was someone else!”

“You dirty liar!” she screamed back, turning to George staring him down “she’s turned into what wrecked her in the first place, stay away from her!” 

She's a maniac, maniac on the floor And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac on the floor And she's dancing like she's never danced before

“I’m telling the truth George, I promise.” You sighed laying back on his bed, waving your wand in the air. 

George stared at you, your face now bruised more than the previous night. “I believe you but...” he sighed trying to find the best way to word what he wanted to say “you need to be careful, I don’t want you to keep getting hurt”

You closed your eyes trying to hide your tear filled eyes, the dorm rooms door swung open and Fred burst in excitedly “Y/N I need your help, wait until you see this!” 

Your mood instantly lifting you bolted up and jumped out of bed, following Fred. George stayed still and rubbed his face with his hands, having no choice but to follow the two of you. 

On the ice-blue line of insanity is a place most never see It's a hard-won place of mystery touch it, but can't hold it You work all your life for that Moment in time, it could come or pass you by It's a push-shove world, but there's always a chance If the hunger stays the night

“What do you mean I’m not right for the job?” you questioned the interviewer, his eyes focused on the paper in front of him “I want to see what that says!” 

The academic part of your life came to a close, finishing with perfect grades you were job hunting - each and every time you were able to make an outstanding first impression and you were even hired on the spot. Within days and weeks before you started your new job you received letters of regret informing you that after second thoughts you weren't suitable for the job. 

“It’s confidential information, I cannot do that.” The man replied firmly.

You shook your head at him “Not if it involves me” quickly snatching the paper from his desk, before he could retrieve it you read the recorded information about you that had been documented, breaking your heart.

You burst through the shop door and stormed upstairs to find your boyfriend George, your face red and hot, tears spilling down your tender cheeks. 

“What's the matter sweetheart?” he asked upon your arrival, his face dropping at the sight of your distress. 

“Those bitches lied!” you cried out “They’ve lied to everyone, they’ve ruined every possible chance I have at succeeding in life!”

George dropped his pen, putting a hold on his tax filing he got up out of his chair and brought you into his arms, he looked confused at your statement. 

“I can’t get hired anywhere because those girls from Slytherin and Ravenclaw lied, they managed to get Rita Skeeter to write about me, contacting everywhere in the area I applied to, telling the owners that it would be irresponsible and a irreversible mistake if they were to hire me!” you were hyperventilating beyond control, choking on your tears “they’ve painted a picture of me that doesn’t exist, George! That I’m a threat, a danger to myself and others, making it out like my past defines me for who I am now!”  

There's a cold kinetic heat, struggling, stretching for the beat Never stopping with her head against the wind

You stared at your paintings hanging on the wall at your local art show, ones of George on his broom, others of all the creatures Hagrid raised. After failing at being hireable, George encouraged you to find something you were passionate about, to run with it and earn money from it. So you took up painting and added a bit of magic to impress the muggles more than those with talent you believed you couldn’t compete against.

George smiled at you through the window and nodded as a rich muggle lady walked past, stopping in her tracks as she eyed up the painting of the Cornish pixies mid air showing off their mischievous grins. 

“How extraordinary” she beamed up at your art, the pixies beady eyes twinkling at her. “How much?” she asked “my son will love this!”

You scratched the back of your head, forgetting that muggles didn’t have the same currency and you weren’t exactly the best with pounds and pennies.

 “Uh-” you stuttered, until the lady cut you off, noticing your other paintings.

The one of George made her laugh and Buckbeak took her breath away, shaking her head in disbelief “I’ve never seen such magnificent works of art in my life... forget how much, I’ll buy them all!” 

She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before

Walking out of the art show you felt your heart skip beats, running towards George you jumped into his arms. “She bought the whole lot!” You squealed.

George spun you around in his arms, cheering for you with all his pride. “You’ve bloody done it, darling!”

The two of you celebrated with the rest of the Weasleys over family dinner at the burrow, Arthur fascinated by the rich muggles and what they spend their money on and Fred begging you to paint him for your next piece. 

After finishing the celebrations George took you out for a night stroll under the stars, the two of you swinging your laced hands with every step. He stopped under the moon, it’s bright light beaming down on the two of you as if you were in the spotlight on a large stage. 

Getting down on one knee George pulled out a small wooden box branded with Weasleys Wizard Wheezes on the front, you chuckled thinking he was going to pull out a magic ring to trap his and your fingers so you couldn’t part.

Upon opening the box George pulled out an incredibly sparkly and flawless amber ring which matched his beautiful hair, you realised that this wasn’t a new wacky invention or a perfectly plotted prank. 

“Y/N, from the moment I first saw you on the Hogwarts Express I fell for you and over the years my love for you has only bloomed all the more... will you marry me?”

It can cut you like a knife, if the gift becomes the fire On a wire between will and what will be

You scowled down at the negative pregnancy test in your hands and threw it into the bin adding to the collection of negative tests you had accumulated over the years since your wedding night. 

You fell to the floor and shook your head feeling frustrated and cheated, your husband George walked into the bathroom and frowned at you with sympathy knowing what the outcome was. 

“I’m so sorry” you cried.

George sat down next to you and held you hand, kissing it softly. “We’re in this together Y/N, okay?” 

You nodded and wiped your tears, letting out a shaky breath “yeah, we are.”

She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know (I sure know) And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before

You heard a massive thud above you, followed by a scream next door. Feeling annoyed you snapped your fingers, your paint brush and palette hovering in the air.

“Georgina, get down here right now!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, your husband George laughing behind you “don’t encourage her!” you scolded him. 

Your daughter with curly ginger hair and a cheeky grin just like her fathers thundered down the stairs, pulling out an earphone. 

“What?” she asked sheepishly, sending a look to her father causing him to laugh. 

“All because your brother has moved out it doesn’t mean his room is your magic practice room!” you told her off “this is the third time this week you’ve frightened next door, you’ll get expelled from Hogwarts before you’ve even started!”

Your youngest of four put her hands up in defence “okay, okay, I’m sorry” she smirked, giving her dad a thumbs up before running back upstairs. 

You shook your head but laughed, walking over to your husband who stood against the kitchen worktops with a brew in his hand. You hugged him and kissed his cheek. “I can’t believe this is my life” you muttered, pulling away and going back to painting your brother in law, Fred. 

Maniac, maniac, I sure know And she's dancing like she's never danced before She's a maniac, maniac, I sure know (I sure know) And she's dancing like she's never danced before

[jimlingss]

Moirai [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 [Finale]

➜ Words: 6.6k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

         ❇ Royal Romances Chapter 3 -Prince Route- ❇   The darkness is pitch black. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time.   Anastasia lurks within the shadows, looking both ways with a flickering oil lamp carried in hand. She darts her head down the long corridor and when there isn’t a soul in sight, she sneaks past the archway before pressing her palm against a stone brick behind a marble pillar. There’s a shift, gears spinning and the wall pulls back and to the side, tucking itself in.   She enters through the hidden passageway and the wall seals itself shut again as it never opened.   The cobblestone spiral stairs are dusty and dank without a single window. She cringes and bats her hand in front of her nose, damning him for choosing such an awful place to meet. Who knows what’s down here!   Ugh. A bastard son born will be a bastard life lived.    No amount of effort can make someone noble if they weren’t already born with it. She doesn’t know why she was expecting that man to be dignified.   “I didn’t think you would come so soon.”   The King’s bastard son stands at the landing of the stairs. The spiral staircase seems to descend further behind him, but she isn’t curious to where it leads.   “Hmph.” She turns away, lamp still in hand, and she pulls her shawl closer to her. “I already made up my mind. I want to get rid of that orphan whore, so I’ll do whatever it takes. She dares to try to seduce my fiancé when she doesn’t even know her place.”   The corner of Taehyung’s thin lips curl. “Then by all means, I’ll erase that problem for you.”   The Duke’s daughter turns and her eyes glimmer with intrigue.   The man reaches into the sleeve of his cloak and hands her a tiny vial of green liquid. An emerald jewel on the cap shimmers against the dim candlelight that casts their ominous shadows on the walls.   “It’s poison. One drop in the Empress’ tea cup and you can frame her for it. That’s all it’ll take.”   Anastasia smirks, a rush of air leaving her nose in satisfaction. It might be easier just to dip the tip of a dagger in and stab that wrench with it, but framing her would make Jungkook lose his trust in the girl. He wouldn’t look at her twice. And she’d be executed without the real perpetrator ever being implicated in the crime.   She takes the vial, holding onto it carefully. Yet her eyes flicker up to Taehyung’s. “What’s in it for you?”   “All I want is the empire’s wealth.”   ….. .. .            ❇ Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇   Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her.   Everything she did, it drove him away.   Every act of love placed distance between them.   Everything.   Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?”   “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.”   The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away.    That bastard son — Taehyung.    He was a liar. He tried to kill her beloved Jungkook. He dared to try and replace him. But no amount of effort can make someone noble if they weren’t already born with it.    A bastard son born will be a bastard life lived.    She may have been condemned as his accomplice — she may have been used as his pawn, too blinded by her own affections to realize. But she is mad with joy that she will not die alone.    She can only hope he died a cruel and painful death.   Anastasia cackles again.

You gasp.   Your entire body jolts and you tear yourself up into an upright position. The covers pool in your lap, your white nightgown stuck to your back slick with cold sweat. You press your palm on your forehead, focusing on studying your heaving breath. It was just a nightmare.   Or rather, it was scenes from the original game. The way it was supposed to be.   It felt so real. As if you were Anastasia and those choices and decisions were the ones you made.   The door opens and the maid entering is startled to see you already awake. “Good morning, my lady. It’s still quite early….”   There’s no way you can return to sleep after that. “Today’s a busy day so I’ll get ready now.”   The maid nods and follows after you to the vanity. “Lady Devon has a lilac gown prepared for you today, my lady. The late Queen wore the same colour during the inauguration of the last Head Priestess.”   “Shouldn’t everyone wear it then?”   “Of course not.” The young servant smiles as she runs the brush through your hair. “Only the future queen should.”   Pft. Yeah right. It’s a ridiculous idea that you would ever be queen. Anastasia never had the chance in any route or lifetime and you doubt you will either.   But rather than changing the dress like you normally would, your hand tightens in your lap.   “Bring it to me then.”   As the future Crown Princess, you’re dolled up by several maids. Your tutor paces back and forth, commanding the flurry around you on each of their actions, from a strand of your hair out of place to a loose thread sticking out. Your cheeks are powdered in a soft pink and your lips are painted in the same cherry blossom shade. You feel like a Barbie being dressed up and not in a good way. But thankfully, the dress is simple for the occasion and your hair is plainly clipped back on both sides.    It isn’t a ball after all where people are going to be flaunting themselves. The next two days marks the inauguration of the new priestess. It’ll be a day of celebration and then a day of solemn prayer and song at the empire’s largest cathedral.   Aka, it’s going to be boring as hell.   Once you’re free from outstretched hands touching your body and making sure you’re a photoshopped version of yourself without the photoshop, you head to the gardens for a breath of air. And also to escape Lady Devon’s lectures of how you should ideally behave.   But by now, you already know what she wants to say.   Don’t chew with your mouth open. Keep your back straight. Don’t back talk to your elders. Most importantly, don’t speak to Tae—   “Anastasia!”   The corner of your mouth tugs. “Lucy.”   You shouldn’t be so happy to see the heroine of this story. Not when her existence naturally opposes yours and you purely forged a friendship for your own self-preservation.   But somewhere along the way, you found that she’s the only female who doesn’t look at you any differently. She doesn’t smile just to make you happy. She doesn’t call you just because she has something to gain. Unlike so many others, you know she has no intention of using you.   The girl doesn’t have ulterior motives. Unlike you.   “Good morning.”   “Morning.” You meet her between the bushes of peonies on the cobblestone path. “What are you doing here so early? The play doesn’t start for another three hours.”    “I didn’t want to be late, but I guess I came earlier than expected.” Her smile is sheepish and she lifts her arm, a single white lily held in her fingertips. “I saw this on my way here. I heard it was lucky to have white lilies on the day of the Head Priestess’ inauguration ceremony, so…”   You take her gift. “Thank you.”   The petals are delicate and the fragrance is subtle enough that you lift it to tickle your nose. It’s then and there, while you’re twirling the stem with your fingertips, that you notice a gaze upon you.   By sheer coincidence and coincidence only, it seems like Taehyung was seeking refuge in his corner of the garden again and ran into you. The corner of his mouth lifts, distance kept yet he’s somehow close. You can’t pretend that he’s not there.   Your eyes have locked together.   Immediately, you grab Lucy’s hand and turn to her. “You have no one to accompany you to the Eastern Cathedral tomorrow, right?”   “Uh…”   Before she can answer, you take her to the dark-haired man and smile cordially at him. “Good morning, Your Highness.”   “Anastas—”   “This is Lucienne from the House of Liza.” You drag the girl to your side and she murmurs a timid greeting to him. “I’m sure the two of you must’ve met each other a few times. She has no one to accompany her tomorrow.”   “Anastasia.” Lucy shifts to you. She’s visibly uncomfortable, her brows knitted together, fingers rubbing the skirt of her dress. “It’s quite alright, I don’t need anyone to—”   “Nonsense,” you interject with another friendly smile. “It must be lonely to go by yourself. I’ll be busy with Prince Jungkook. It’s important that you get to know others as well. You shouldn’t latch onto the Prince all the time.”    She’s visibly taken aback at your insinuation. It’s not like you want to be so blunt, but there has to be no room for refusal. This is the only way.   It’s no longer about trying to avoid the three of them. It’s no longer about bringing Lucy and Jungkook together and remaining on the sidelines. If you want to save Taehyung too, you need to use the only person who can do so.   You’ll find other ways to save yourself.   But Taehyung needs her.   “I…”   Your voice remains firm. “You should go with Taehyung.”    Lucy is the heroine of this game. It’s possible that they can end up together instead. She can comfort Taehyung, change his mind about revenge, ease his suffering, rid his grief. She’s the only one who can clear the darkness stowed inside of him.   They don’t know it, but you do.   You push her towards him. The girl stumbles from the loss of her footing and he steadies her by her shoulders.   “S-Sorry!”   “It’s fine,” he brushes off quickly and then turns his head, eyes boring holes in you. “What are you doing?”   Taehyung holds his gaze, searching your impassive expression and the corners of your mouth pulls stiffly. “I’m just joining two people who I think really suit each other. Oh, look at the time! I should leave before I’m late for my morning greeting to my fiancée. I’ll leave the both of you to it then.”   You curtsy hastily and spin around to walk away.   But Taehyung is three steps ahead of you.   His strides are long and he overtakes you easily, stopping your form far away enough that it’s out of Lucy’s earshot. He grabs your arm, pulls you back and stares deeply into your eyes. His frown deepens.   “Is this because of what I did that night of the feast?” he asks in a quiet murmur that makes you swallow hard. You don’t want to be reminded of that. Not now. Not when you’re trying to pay back the favour of saving your life by saving his. “Anastasia, I meant everything I said that night. I meant everything that I was about to do—”   You interrupt him, not wanting to hear anymore of it. It shouldn’t be this hard.   “It’s not that.” You stare directly into his pupils, unwavering in your gaze. “I have to go now.”   You brush past him and don’t glance over your shoulder, even when the temptation is overwhelming.   It really shouldn’t be this hard. You know the future. You know what’s entailed in their destiny.   But why does it seem like you’re making all the wrong choices.   //   Your knuckles rap against the surface. There’s a muffled ‘come in’ and you open the door.   Jungkook is getting ready in front of the mirror. His cape is being pinned perfectly on his back, navy blue jacket with ribbons and golden buttons making him look like the picture perfect prince of every Disney movie. It’s no wonder all the ladies constantly swoon when he passes.   To you, he’s always been that doe-eyed boy afraid of ladybugs. But marrying him wouldn’t be so bad. You’re sure it would be a good marriage. At least one full of respect and mutual understanding.   It would be better than half the marriages in the twenty-first century that ends in divorce.   Jungkook looks at your reflection in the mirror. “Anastasia. What brings you here?”   “I have matters to discuss, Prince Jungkook.”   “Very well.” He looks to the attendants beside him. “Please bring in refreshments.”   “There’s no need.” You quickly stop them and the man in front of you turns, visibly surprised at your rejection of sweets and tea. It’s the main reason why you come to visit each other after all. “This’ll be quick.”   They bow their heads and the doors shut a moment later, giving you and Jungkook privacy.   He pinches the hem of his sleeve. “Did you get in trouble with your tutors again?”   “Jungkook.” Your voice is solemn, your expression even more serious. He looks up and the corner of his mouth falls into a straight line. He follows you to the sofa and sits across from you.   “What’s the matter?” He’s frowning, worried about your changed demeanor.   You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. “We should solidify our engagement as soon as possible.”   Jungkook’s eyes widen. “W...what? Why so sudden?”    “Is it?”   “You’ve never been interested in being queen before.” His eyes narrow in on you and his brows furrow more. “Is this about the Duke and Duchess? Are they rushing you?”   “No.” You shake your head. “This is about me. It’s about us.”   “But this isn’t like you, Anna.”   “Why is it so surprising?!” Your voice is pitched and instead of anger, frantic desperation seeps in. You don’t know why everyone has to make it so difficult for you. “We’ve been engaged since our childhood! It’s only natural to move ahead. Who else are you supposed to marry—?!”   As the words come out of your mouth, it slaps you right back in the face: you’re falling into the same pattern as Anastasia.   Demanding the prince to marry you. Being blunt. Curt. Upset.   It’s so easy. It was as if your entire life was set up to be the villainess.   Oh god. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what the answer is. You don’t know what choice to make to wind down the best path—   “Anna!” Jungkook calls you for the fifth time in the midst of your meltdown.   You lift your head to find him sitting beside you, his hands firmly squeezing your shoulders. He’s asking you if you’re alright, if you need a healer or some rest to clear your mind. He’s saying how the two of you can talk about this later. But you don’t want later. It’s always been later.   Making choices now for later.   Making plans now for later.   Everything you’ve done is for later down the line and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to reap the benefits or find the happiness you were so desperate to have when you died the first time.   Now. You want someone to shoulder your burdens with right now.   “Jungkook, what if….what if I told you I was from another world and I know the future of this world?”   “What?”   You swallow hard and meet Jungkook’s doe eyes. He searches your visage, unable to comprehend where this is coming from, where you’re going with this. “What if...the only way to save Taehyung is through Lucy? The only way is if they fall in love and she saves him.”   He’s completely lost on that. “Taehyung? What does he need saving from? Who told you he needs to fall in love with her? What?”   Your mouth opens, but you don’t know where to start, how to explain, if he would even believe you in the end. “You just need to trust me, Jungkook. I know things you don’t.”   “I...don’t understand what you’re talking about.” There’s a simmering pause between the pair of you and Jungkook looks carefully at your profile. Then his lips part to speak forbidden words— “Are you in love with Taehyung?”   It’s your turn to be confused. Befuddled. Taken aback.   And Jungkook must read the expression on his face, since he replaces your speechlessness with his own voice. “Otherwise, why would you care so much about him? You’ve never brought anyone up to me before. Not even your own parents, Anna, and I know they make things difficult for you. I’ve never seen you care about anyone else more than you care about yourself.”   You rise to your feet in an instant and turn your back on the man.   “That’s impossible. It’s impossible.”   “Why? I thought you always told me it was okay if we ended up falling in love with other peopl—”   “I said it was okay if you did. Not me.” You don’t get such a privilege. Jungkook is the protagonist, the hero. No matter what route it is, which way the story goes, he always wins. He will always live. But you will either die or be casted away. “It’s different.”   Jungkook has nothing to risk. You have everything.   “Anastasia.”   “Don’t change the subject. I came to tell you that we should move ahead with the engagement. There is no reason you should refuse, Jungkook.”    You turn and leave the room, ending the conversation there.   He doesn’t know. He makes it sound easy. But you can never be with Taehyung.   The Crown Prince’s fiancée and the bastard son. What a pair that would be.   As long as you’re living in this world, in this society, any relationship deeper than an acquaintanceship would bring disaster. It’s not as simple as falling in love, calling off the engagement, eloping together far away. This isn’t a fairy tale. This isn’t a romance narrative.   It’s life. A society that scrutinizes and shames. A culture that slanders names with scandals.   The Devereux house will fail anyway and you don’t care about soiling your reputation and being outcasted. But the King would deem it treasonous. The royal family’s reputation would be marred and ruined, and he would never accept that. He was already unhappy when Taehyung danced with you at the debutante ball, when Taehyung handed you the Hunt’s prize, when Taehyung rescued you from being kidnapped. And you cannot risk your life and Taehyung’s like that any more than you already have.   Jungkook is terribly naive if he thinks it could ever work.   //   The royal court is lively with warm drums and bright flutes that echo throughout the capital.   Famous minstrels and troubadours across the empire have come to perform for the King, having made their way through the streets in the morning for the commoners as well. He smiles in approval from his throne, the middle-aged priestess to be coordinated tomorrow seated beside him and the pair look to be enjoying the show.   Your parents are no exceptions either, seemingly relishing in the festivities. They’ve brought Edith and Joan in tow as part of their entourage, faces you never thought you’d miss. The former nods her head at you in silent greeting and the latter smiles, but you don’t get a chance to speak to either of them. Not when your parents have kept their distance.   It seems like the last incident has made them rethink their involvement in your affairs. And for that, you’re glad you’ve been granted a little more freedom.   Marquess, earls, counts, viscountess and barons seated around speak to one another in between performing acts, sipping on their wine as the afternoon sets into evening. Once in a while, laughter sparks through the courtyard and thunderous applause succeed performances.   But unlike them, you can’t enjoy it.   In spite of sitting next to Jungkook and visibly smiling, the space in-between the pair of you is tense and stiff. Lucy sits a few rows down from where she is beside her father and you can tell she’s uncomfortable with what happened earlier by her expression that never seems to ease.   All of it would be easy to ignore. If not for Taehyung’s gaze.   He’s standing in the corner against the stone walls that line the courtyard, inconspicuous but not to you. A glance at a crowd and you could still pick him out in an instant. But he doesn’t watch the play, doesn’t watch the musical performances or the acrobatics twisting around. He looks at you. As if that alone could figure out your intentions, like he could deduct what’s in your mind.   You don’t spare him a peek. Even when it’s difficult to resist.   You avoid him until the very end.   //   The moon is full, a perfectly round sphere that’s golden. Like a firefly amidst the blanket of stars. It isn’t brighter than the sun, but not any less beautiful.   Taehyung stares up at the horizon and then his eyes stray to marble railings. He floats up to your balcony and his feet touch against the white, stone flooring. He won’t let you run away.   The room is dark, but he makes out a lump in the bed that’s turning and twisting. Taehyung knocks against the glass door and the figure freezes before it moves a moment later.   Within a minute, the door opens and you emerge into the golden moonlight. “Taehyung? What are you doing here? You’re not allowed to be here,” you whisper harshly, looking both ways of the castle grounds while tugging the white, laced shawl around your shoulders closer.   “I had to come see you,” Taehyung gazes into your eyes tenderly and he leans down to capture your hand gently in his. The skirt of your nightgown flutters in the warm breeze. “I know there’s something wrong. Did Jungkook do something? Did he say something?”   You shake your head.   “Then why push me away?”   You turn from him, ripping your hand away from his grasps. “I don’t know what you mean.”   Taehyung grabs your arm and your head whirls back to him, eyes connecting. “You know exactly what I mean.”   “I’m engaged.”   “To a person you don’t even love.”   Your eyes widen and your brows furrow. “You don’t know that.”   “I love you.”    It’s a bold confession spoken from his lips, his deep timbre that doesn’t lack any sincerity.    An earnest proclamation that has your heart stuttering in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat. Your heartbeat is thunderous in your ears and something stirs in the pit of your stomach at the sorrowful expression Taehyung looks at you with. He murmurs, “I was going to take that secret to the grave, but I can’t stand by and watch you like this. I love you. Be with me.”    Be with me.   A three word plea. Whispered secretly on a full-moon night. An affection full of warmth that you never had the privilege of receiving before in your past life or this life. Until now.   You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — Love Actually, Pride and Prejudice, the Notebook. But nope. They’re right. When you hear a love confession, when you hear someone say ‘I love you’ and ‘be with me’, it really does make you overwhelmingly happy.    It makes you want to cry. It makes you want to hug him, kiss him, throw your arms around him and scream ‘yes’. It makes you imagine the rest of your life, growing old with someone you love.   But you stagger away from Taehyung. No.   No. It can’t be. He can’t love you. No.   You aren’t Juliet. Elizabeth Bennet. Allie.   This isn’t your love story. You aren’t the main character. And this most certainly won’t have a happy ending.    Taehyung was never supposed to love Anastasia.    This is a mistake. An accident. Repercussions to your actions.   “Don’t mistake sympathy for feelings of love.” You surprise yourself at how stern your voice sounds, never once wavering. You suppose years of growing up in the Devereux household and being put under rigorous training allowed you to control your exterior well. “I don’t love you. You don’t love me, Taehyung.”   “You’re wrong.” He steps forward, closing the distance, as firm as you are. “I’ll even fight for the throne if you want. I’ll fight Jungkook if that’s what it takes for you to be by my side—”   “No!”    The scream echoes in your own ears, loud and shrill enough to bring alarm. “Please. Don’t. Don’t.”   It’s then and there, in the throes of his reckless promises, it slams into you — the realization of how desperately you don’t want to see Taehyung die.   You don’t want to witness his tragic ending. And you don’t want him to do it for you.   Taehyung’s expression is crumpled in anguish and his arm lifts, hand extending. The pad of his thumb tenderly wipes away the tear that’s streaked down your cheek. The corner of his mouth upturns, but the sorrowful smile never reaches his eyes. “Do you hate the idea of being with me that much that you’re crying?”   “No...Taehyung…”   He withdraws. “I’m sorry.”   Taehyung gazes at you and then he shuts his eyes, falling backwards off the balcony. You cry out in absolute terror and your legs lurch forward towards the railings. Your arms snap out to grab him, but your fists merely catch the passing wind.   He’s vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but traces of magic in the air.   You collapse onto the floor, grasping at the banister as sobs wreck through your body. “T-That’s...not...i-it—”   The matter of life or death should be simple. The choices should be easy. But you don’t know why each path you choose has its own tragedy, why happiness never seems to come.   Why can’t you control your own destiny?

A wheeze tears from the bastard son’s mouth.   His ruined hands are wrapped around his silver staff until his bloodied knuckles have morphed white. But it’s his leverage, keeping him standing on his shaking legs. He may have lost but he refuses to collapse until his last breath has been taken. His pride won’t allow him otherwise.   “Why?”   He lifts his head and locks eyes with the impassive Prince, dignified and noble. A hero to all. A brother who he never deemed as a brother. Only in blood and never truly in name.    “Why did you do this?”   The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls. Even on the battlefield when they are both armoured and armed with weapons — in the moment of death — Jungkook is as oblivious and ignorant as when he was a mere child.    Taehyung spares a thought as to what it feels like to be that naive. He concludes it is a privilege.   “W-hy….d..o...you...think?”   The Forgotten Prince’s feet sinks into the mountain of brittle bones. He had to bring the dead back to life through necromancy to build an army for this war. No one would fight on his side after all. No one’s ever wanted to fight on his side.   But even so, he was never able to bring himself to revive his mother.   But it’s foolish he didn’t. She may have just been a marionette doll with tangled strings, a simple outer shell of a real human being, but he regrets not doing it. He should’ve.   Even if it was just to see her for a moment.   But it is a regret too late. He has another wish he wants to achieve in these last moments.   Taehyung chokes out that girl’s name.    He didn’t know he would have feelings for her. He was simply intrigued. Anything that belonged to his brother was always something worth envy. And he wasn’t wrong. She was a pawn on the opponent’s side who turned out to be more valuable than the queen.   “P-Please….” Blood curdles at the back of his throat, thickening his words into pathetic sputters. “Let me...see her….on.e….las...t….tim..e…”   “I’ll never let you see her.”    The Prince’s hands tighten on the handle and he rips the sword out of his abdomen in a single motion. The sound of silver cuts sharply through the air and Taehyung drops to his bruised knees. His own blood has splattered across his visage, scarlet drenched on ashy skin.   The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains. It’s an expression of contempt, of hatred and indifference. His shadow looms over him, the status he was born with intrinsic in his sheer presence.    “All...I...ever..wanted….was to be you. To be...powerful...to have everything you have.”    The Forgotten Prince rests against his staff and shuts his eyes. He ponders for a mere moment if he will be able to see his mother after this. But if there is such a thing as an afterlife, it’s still unlikely that fate would grant him such peace and refuge.   “I...d..idn’t...want….to...be...aban..doned…”   The remnants of magic surges through his veins and with a weak flick of his wrist, Taehyung’s last magic summons the girl who had occupied his thoughts. She appears in front of him, manifesting with his spell, and she screams.   Jungkook calls out to her and they embrace. He holds her, covering her body with his arm.   The two of them look down at Taehyung in fear and disdain.    But her vicinity is enough for him. He wonders when he became this pathetic. Or if he was always this way as their villain.   Taehyung chokes on the blood curdling at the back of his throat, but his lips upturn into a smile.    He mouths her name and dies at their feet.   ….   Anastasia.   You wake up with a gasp tearing from your chest. Your breath heaves out of you and tears coat your cheeks and the pillow beneath your head. Most of all, your chest fucking hurts like your heart’s about to burst. So you call for a maid at the top of your lungs and within seconds, someone scatters in.   “My lady?”    “Water,” you croak and she nods.   A glass is presented in front of you within moments and you down the entire thing, able to calm yourself down once you’ve finished. The maid notices your sweaty form and asks if you would like to change clothes, but you wave her off and she leaves.   Your worst fear came to life in a nightmare.   Instead of calling the heroine’s name, Taehyung called yours.   //   The ceremony at the Eastern Cathedral is exactly like all other events and celebrations in the castle.   Boring. Tedious. Like sitting in a lecture hall with the most unenthused professor droning on about the art of paint drying. Except you have to slap a friendly smile on you, sit straight, make small talk and pretend you’re intently listening. You wish cardboard cutouts were a thing, so you could just slap a picture of yourself in your seat instead of having to deal with it.   But the entire ordeal keeps your mind from wandering about last night.    There’s something about pretending that you’re fine that makes you feel fine after a while. Like you’ve tricked your own self into being okay.   You’re even anxious once it’s over. Once the quiet has settled back in.   Many of the guests leave, viscounts and countesses bidding their farewells from the cathedral and getting into their carriages. After you’ve sent off Lady Devon and you’re free of her scrutiny, you quickly turn around to find Jungkook and get out of here.   The last thing you want is to run into Taehyung right now. You don’t know if you’ll be able to manage your reactions, control your expressions.   But on your way back, your attention is taken by an elderly priestess dressed in white robes with a cane, hobbling around. Her hands are outstretched and she bats the air. She’s blind.   “Excuse me, do you need help?”   “Oh, yes, please, that would be wonderful.” She smiles and the tens of wrinkles on her face crease. The old lady reminds you of your grandma and the corner of your mouth quirks. You take her hand and place it on your arm, guiding her. “I’m usually not so clumsy but I lost my way and had to re-orientate myself. You can just bring me into the side house, it should be on the West side of the cathedral grounds.”   You look around and spot it around the building. “It’s this way.”   “Are you here for the ceremony?”   “Yes, I am.”   “How nice, Emelisse will make a fine Head Priestess. Her holy magic is quite powerful.”   You hum and get to the smaller building within two minutes. The doors are already open, so you peek inside to see if anyone’s there to take the old lady, but there’s no one. “We’re here.”   The Priestess reaches out and grabs the door frame. She smiles and gets up the steps herself, but not before turning around. “Thank you. Not many people would personally aid me in this day and age, and for that I’m thankful.”   “It’s not a problem.”   It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to speak so casually to someone. But it’s relaxing to forget about your titles. You don’t have to be the Crown Prince’s Fiancée. The future Queen. Or the heir of the Devereux house.   You’re just Anastasia. Y/N. A mix of both that makes you you.   “Would you be willing to hear an old secret in exchange for helping me?”   “Uhhhhh…..” You glance over your shoulder. There’s no palace guards or Jungkook in sight.   You really don’t want to stick around for too long. But you remember your grandma got pretty lonely towards the end of her life and was willing to talk to door-to-door salesmen for a good hour or two until they wanted to run away and blacklist the house from their list. Bless her heart.   You decide to indulge the old woman, so you go along with it. “Sure.”   “I once knew a woman, a kind but poor woman. She was with child,” her voice croaks and you lean in closer, realizing it’s juicy gossip and it sparks intrigue. “The father of that unborn child wasn’t very happy to know that child was coming into existence, so she, worried, came to see her fortune and her child’s on the eve of the Solar Festival.”   The old Priestess holds the handle of her cane with both hands, placed in the middle of her body. She faces the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin as she continues the story.   “She came to this cathedral and they told her about doom and her child’s inevitable doom. Desperate and heartbroken, she begged to find a way to deviate from such a fate. She wanted to do anything she could to change the predetermined destiny of her unborn child.”   Your brows furrow. You begin to wonder why she’s telling you this. “And?”   “She did a ritual of dark magic to search for a soul that would protect her son.” The old woman shakes her head. “She defied the laws of destiny itself without knowing the pain it would cause.”   “But through sheer will, she broke it!” The Priestess smiles, her voice having been a murmur drawing you in. “She found a fitting soul and that soul was sent to another dimension before this one to learn about what was to come, so that they could protect her son.”   You stagger back. Breath caught in your throat. Blood draining from your face.   There’s no way. It can’t be.   But everything aligns. It matches perfectly.   “W-What happened next?”   The woman hums a low note and you realize too late that she’s the former Head Priestess, the one who had just stepped down. “I’m not quite sure what the ending to that story is since that soul wrapped in dark magic is standing right in front of me.”   The former Head Priestess smiles gently and turns around, entering inside her abode. She leaves you standing rooted to the ground on your own as it dawns upon you —   It was all on purpose.   Being reborn into this world. Having memories of your past life. Being burdened with the knowledge of what fates there are, what the future holds. All along, it was to serve your purpose: to protect Taehyung.   Your destiny was entangled with him even before this lifetime.    But you’ve already failed. You let his mother die. And now his own time is running out.   You turn around. The urge to see him overwhelms your very being. You have to tell him how you really feel. You’re not just Anastasia. You’re Y/N. And you won’t allow the original storyline to confine your choices anymore.   None of this was an accident. You weren’t messing anything up. None of your actions, your feelings or his are wrong. Nothing was a mistake. You’ll find a way to save Taehyung, to be with him.    You have to.   In the south courtyard of the cathedral, by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you see him there. Of all the places of these vast grounds where he could be, you still found him.   “Taehyung!”   You call out to him and he turns at the sound of your voice. But then your smile falls. Your feet slow. By coincidence, an arrow soars towards him, slicing through the air.   You shout at the top of your lungs and Taehung whips his head around. The tip of the arrow freezes an inch away from his nose and clatters to the ground through his magic. But then five more arrows splits the sky and flies towards him. Taehyung dodges, stops another, but one catches him in the arm.   He sharply inhales.    A scream of his name tears from your throat.   Taehyung winces and rips the shaft of the arrow out of his skin. He looks at the tip before throwing it away. He can feel the poison spreading in his veins, bleeding inside of his body. It inhibits his magic and before he can yell at you to get away, another arrow spirals in the horizon.   He shuts his eyes. Taehyung feels an impact. But the pain never comes.   His eyes shoot open, brows knitting together and his mouth draws open when he sees you.    Your arms have wrapped around his body in a warm embrace, shielding him away, protecting him like you were meant to. The end of the arrow has pierced into your shoulder.    But you can’t feel it.   Taehyung shouts your name and you collapse. He holds your body in his arms, cradling your head against his shoulder as he screams from the pit of his stomach for help. And you watch him through foggy eyes, a smile gracing your lips.   You’re glad he’s not hurt.   Your hand slowly lifts to caress his cheek and he looks at you.   “I….fi..nally came….on time, Tae...hyung.”

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Royal Affairs

Princess!Wheein x Palace Staff!Female Reader

Word Count: 4927

Contents: royalty au, slight angst, switch wheein, switch reader, thigh grinding, praise, breast play, oral, clit stimulation, tribbing, squirting

Note: @thetypingpup Happy Birthday!!!! This year has been, a whole ass year. And here we are coming to the end of it nonetheless. I know this year has been an absolute bitch for you in more ways than one but you are capable and resilient and wonderful. I’m so glad that more and more you find the ways to make your blog somewhere fun cuz we all need some fun, especially in a year like this. I hope you have a very good day, love!

“Come in,” Wheein’s voice lilted through the air following your knock. You opened the door slowly, keeping your demeanor proper. Wheein was sitting in front of her mirror, candles lit around her chamber, warming the rich emerald tones of her curtains and the canopy surrounding her large, plush bed.

“Perfect timing,” she said evenly, combing the ends of her hair out. “I’m in need of some assistance with my hair.”

You closed the door behind yourself. “No one else is around,” you hummed.

“Good,” she sighed, slumping into her seat and quickly dropping the proper posture she carried around everyone but you. “My hair is a mess and I cannot reach the back.”

You chuckled as you made your way across the room to her. Taking the comb from her hands and started to work on the knots at the ends of her hair. ���You really outdid yourself, today.”

“I do think it was one of my best,” she grinned at you through the mirror.

“How do you manage to come up with such ideas?” You mused.

“They really just come to me,” she laughed. “Maybe it’s desperation. Nothing quite like the threat of getting married off to some random noble to make the ideas start flowing.”

You joined in with her chuckles. The king and queen were beyond exasperated at this point. You had lost count of how many suitors Wheein had sent packing. You were sure these were benefits to marrying her off, political alliances, more power, those sorts of things. You knew Wheein knew them well. But she had made her mind that she wasn’t going to be married off, with enough conviction to keep it up until her parents finally gave up on the idea.

“How did you get your hair so tangled?” You asked.

“I brushed it in all directions. I kept putting it up and taking it down. I even tied a few knots right in there,” she said brightly. “I had to tear up that old dress and run it through the mud to really get the look right.”

“Do you think people will wonder how the king and queen raised such a wild woman?” You giggled.

“Ah my kingdom has seen me before,” she said in a relaxed manner. “They’ll have caught on by now. I like to think they take bets on what I’ll do next.”

“The chefs do,” you laughed. “I was in the kitchens for a moment the other day and they were discussing what they thought you would do this time. It truly brings the whole palace together.”

“See,” she laughed. “It’s good for morale!”

“That it is,” You snorted. “But if you do this again and these knots are any worse I might just have to cut them out.”

“You should,”  she challenged you with a grin. “Just chop all my hair off, make it nice and short.”

“Something tells me the king and queen wouldn’t approve of a princess with short hair.” You chuckled.

“So,” she challenged cheekily. “It’s not like I’m any less royal with less hair. Maybe we should do it now.”

“If I do it now the queen will have my head,” you snorted.

“No she won’t, not if I have anything to say about,” she huffed.

You leaned in closer. “I don’t wanna get sent to the dungeon.”

“I won’t let her send you to the dungeon!” She cried.

“I’m not cutting your hair short today.”

Wheein pouted. “This is why I don’t always tell you how I plan to run off the suitors. You don’t let me do anything fun.”

“We have plenty of fun,” you hummed, finally coming to the last few knots in her hair. “I’m simply a voice of reason. You can’t completely ruin your image or the people will never let you take over the crown. And you and I both know you’ll be a fantastic queen.”

“What if I don’t want to be queen?” she sniffed.

“You do,” you said. “You already know you’re going to be good at it. And what would you ever do if you left?”

A grin tugged at her lips. “Well I’d take you with me.”

You couldn’t help your own grin. “I should have known you’d say that.”

“Don’t tell me you would stay here if I was gone,” she gasped in fake surprise.

“It’s a good job,” you shrugged before laughing as she reached back and tried to whack your arm.

“No you’re right,” you hummed. “I think I would miss you too much if you left. This palace just wouldn’t feel the same without you here.”

“I knew it,” she said smugly, though her tone was full of fondness.

“And,” You ran your fingers through her hair. “I’m done.”

“You, my stunning angel,” she smiled. “Have magic fingers.”

“I-I know,” you didn’t mean for your voice to stumble but it betrayed you. Wheein stood from her seat and grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer before sitting you down in front of her mirror.

“You’re too cute,” she grinned. “I want to see something.”

You twisted around in the seat as she moved to her wardrobe and grabbed a few small boxes. Wheein was close to giddy as she placed the boxes on the vanity and opened one, revealing a number of necklaces set with precious stones. She considered them for a moment before choosing one set with rich blue sapphires that caught the light in an enchanting way.

“Here.” You fought to keep your breath even as her hands came gently around your neck. She laid the necklace against your skin, smiling and leaning in until her lips were close to your ear. “Doesn’t this look just breathtaking on you?” She murmured.

“I-It-” You tried to process her closeness that could make you feel a little dizzy, your mind swarmed with too many thoughts of where the night might go. Your fingers came up to touch the piece of jewelry gently. “It’s really beautiful.”

“That’s because you’re beautiful,” Wheein hummed.

You met her eye in the mirror. “Should we be-”

“I’m just having fun,” she grinned. “But I want to see something else.”

You sat, reeling a little and processing her words as she whisked the necklace away. “I think it looks nicer on you than it does on me. Perhaps I should gift it to you.”

“I-If you did that people would surely find out,” you felt a little flustered at the proposition. Wheein had made it clear from the beginning that she didn’t expect you to be too proper or stiff around her and over time she’d started to treat you as a friend. But still, giving a worker in a palace one of her own personal jewelry pieces would raise suspicion at the very least.

“And yet,” she pulled something else out of a box. “I see no reason that it should be mine when I don’t wear it. And it suits you so much better.”

You saw your reflection’s eyes widen as she carefully brought a tiara over your head, set with a dazzling array of sapphire, tanzanite, and indigolite that glimmered in the candlelight. She placed it gently in your hair. 

“Doesn’t it look so natural, like you were born to wear it?”

You felt stunned. No matter how relaxed you were around Wheein you kept your wits about you around anyone else, including her parents. You knew that her tiaras weren’t meant to sit on your head. It made you feel a little dizzy, glance shifting quickly to look at the door. No one ever bothered you in here, not unannounced at least. But still, how much trouble would you be in were you to be caught?

“I-I shouldn’t-”

“Relax,” Wheein placed her hands on your shoulders, her lips resting next to your ear. “Just relax and look at yourself. You know I would never get you in any real trouble.” Her lips curled into a grin. “I just want you to see it.”

You let out a small sigh, relaxing back a bit and trying to will your heart to calm down. The tiara sat atop your head, glittering in the warm candle-lit glow that washed through the room. It caught the colours of the precious gems set into the delicate frame.

“It is beautiful.” You said. “It’s breathtaking but-”

“No buts,” she hummed.

You turned a little to look at her directly. “But what’s the point?”

Wheein pouted. “Does there have to be a point?”

“Doesn’t there?”

She sighed, “I like how they look on you. I like being around you. I just like you. That’s my point.” She gently turned your head back to look at the mirror. “Let me imagine life a little differently, just for a moment.”

You met her gaze in the mirror, voice smaller when you spoke. “What life are you imagining?”

“One where…” her voice trailed off as she lifted the tiara from your head. “I can live the life I’d like to. Where I don’t have to put up a fuss about getting married.” As she came back behind you her fingertips trailed along your arm. “Where I don’t have to run anyone off. Where my future doesn’t hinge on me ‘finding a suitor’ or annoying the king and queen to no end with my unwillingness until they let me be crowned under my own terms.”

Her hands slipped down to your waist and she gently urged you to your feet. “Where no one cares what to whom I do, so I can do as I like.” A smirk graced her lips as she took your hands, turning you so she could walk you backwards to the bed.

“A future where I can do this,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “And this,” her lips moved to kiss in the hollow under your ear, “And this.” Wheein pressed a longer kiss to your neck. You let your head fall back with a sigh, stepping back until your legs hit the edge of the bed, her lips trailing slowly along your neck and her hands slipping from your waist to the ties on your dress.

Most of the palace staff, at some point or another, did something they weren’t supposed to. Sneaking a pastry, or sleeping in the kitchens when no one was around and the room was warm, picking the flowers in the garden. But you had a feeling none of them were as bold as fooling around with the princess.

This wasn’t the first time. As the outer layers of your dress fell away Wheein’s hands traced a familiar path along your body, taking her time in undressing you. Her lips latched into a sensitive spot at the base of your neck and you let out small sighs at the feeling. The closer you had gotten the more tension grew between you until neither of you could stand it any longer.

The tension snapped.

A kiss.

And then another.

And then more until you found yourself in bed with feelings that were complicated at best.

Your fingers curled into the material of her dress, pulling her closer against you as she undid your stays and untied your skirt, letting them also fall from your body. Her lips trailed back up until they found yours and she smirked against your lips at the sense of desperation in your kisses. 

“You’re not going to make me do all the work,” she murmured playfully.

You answered her with a small whine, hands searching for the ties on her dress, to pull her out of it. Wheein let each piece of her dress fall away from her body, her hands now grabbing at her hips, only thin fabric between her fingers and your skin. Her tongue slid along your bottom lip and you let it into your mouth easily, sighing and letting out small moans into your mouth as she kissed you and her hands came around to your ass.

As her skirts fell away she pushed you back down onto the bed, stepping out of them before moving over top of you, a thigh coming between your legs.

“You always look so pretty like this,” she murmured, the candlelight illuminating the flickering intensity in her gaze. “All laid out just for me.” She rolled her hips down, grinding against you slowly as her fingertips trailed up your thigh, pulling the hem of your under dress up along with them. Her lips grazed your ear and her voice dropped to a whisper. 

“No coronation could ever give me a gift as beautiful as you.”

You couldn’t stop the small moan that trailed off your lips, nor the way your hips ground against her thigh. Her hand came to your hips, guiding your movements slowly while the other pushed up the light fabric of your underdress to reveal your body. You listened to her small hum as she pulled the dress up high enough to see your chest before pulling it fully off of you.

“If I could choose my future,” she let her hands trail down your sides, lips kissing along your collarbone and down to your chest. “I would simply choose you.”

A moan left your lips as she sucked one of your nipples between her lips. Her tongue rolled over the sensitive bud. With one hand still on your hip the other trailed back up your side until it came to your chest. Her fingers squeezed at your breast before starting to play with your nipple, rolling and squeezing it slowly.

Heavy breaths fell off your lips and your eyes slowly fluttered shut. Arousal started to build steadily inside of you. It flickered slow like the candlelight, but with each second it grew a little hotter. Wheein hummed against your skin and you arched up into her touch, letting yourself go a little more every second.

Wheein’s lips pulled away from your chest with a small pop and you felt her lips kiss slowly into the valley between your breasts and towards the others.

“How could I want anything else,” she murmured. “When I get to have you like this?” Her lips latched onto the soft skin of your breast, sucking at your skin, You let out a sigh, fingers curling into the soft, plush, luxurious fabrics covering her bed.

“Every line and curve of your body is exquisite, how could jewels or crowns possibly compare?”

She sucked your other nipple between her lips, a little more harshly than the first. You ground your hips a little faster on her thigh, her own underdress pushed up and your arousal slicking her skin with each movement.

Wheein hummed, sending vibrations through your body and drawing a small moan from your lips, fingers tugging on her bedsheets. Her fingers rolled and tugged at your other nipple and slowly you felt the tightening starting in your core as your body built towards release, heat rising off your skin and mixing into the air.

Wheein pulled back her lips, waiting for you to look up at her. You let your eyes open and pouted at her, catching her smirk as she pressed your legs further apart and moved between them. She rid herself of her underdress and you let your eyes take in her form, her body somehow more and more stunning each time you saw it.

“You’re already so worked up, just for me,” she hummed, bringing her lips to your stomach and starting to trail kisses along your skin, lower and lower.

“I don’t think I could ever possibly get enough of you. The sounds that you make, all the ways your body moves.” She met your gaze. “The way you make me feel. Why would I ever want to let this go?”

Wheein’s lips started to kiss along your inner thighs, pressing your legs wider. Her fingers trailed over the spots she wasn’t kissing and she giggled as your hips squirmed, drawing a gasp from you when her fingers dragged through your folds, gathering your arousal. Her gaze moved between her fingers and your core.

“I really can’t decide which part of you is the prettiest,” she mused between pressing more kisses to your thighs, her gaze locked with yours. “At first I thought it was your eyes, so intelligent and sharp, but still warm for me. Then I thought maybe your lips, such a pretty shape and I knew when I saw them how good they would feel against my skin. I thought it might be your hands, how easily they move, how skilled they are,” she smirked.

Her words only filled you with more arousal. You were sure you were positively dripping as your fingers curled and uncurled in the sheets. You tried to keep your hips still, tried to keep her gaze as heat rose through your body and your breaths came out heavy.

“The line of your neck comes to mind, how you hold your head to high, how sensitive you are to kisses. Or maybe your breasts, so soft in my hands and they start to draw such sweet sounds from you. For a while,” she started to press kisses to the apex of your thighs, your hips squirming to get her lips where you needed them. “I thought of your voice. I have such a love for your voice. I could listen to you speak and laugh and sing all day.” Her lips pressed a kiss just above your clit, so close to where you wanted them. “And the way you moan. Exquisite.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and she paused, smirking, knowing how impatient her words made you. You felt her hands slip under you and a gasp left your lips as she suddenly grabbed your ass roughly.

“I’ve definitely thought about just how much I love your ass, just how much fun it is to grab onto. And your thighs,” she hands moved to your thighs, squeezing at them and letting her thumbs run over the sensitive skin. “I love how touching you makes you so needy.”

“Please,” the word left your lips before you could catch it.

“Please?” She grinned. “Can’t I take a moment to admire you?”

You gaze flickered to her lips and back to her eyes, your voice betraying how needy you had gotten. “I need you, I need more.”

“I know you do,” she murmured. “I don’t think I can pick one favourite part of you, but I know just how much I love your pussy.” She spread your legs even further. “You’re so wet you’re glistening. Every time I touch you just the way you want you let out the prettiest sounds. You move your hips, practically fucking yourself on my face when you feel my tongue. And your taste.”

A gasp left your lips as she dragged her tongue though your folds and over your clit.

“Other worldly. I don’t think I could live without it.”

A shuddering moan fell off your lips as Wheein trailed her tongue in even movements over your clit. She let out moans as she tasted you and your fingers found her hair as you let your head fall back against the pillows, hips slowly rolling against her face as her tongue fell into a rhythm of movements over your clit.

Your legs trembled and your hips moved rhythmically as her tongue worked like magic. She had learned your body so well. She knew just how to move her tongue as you gave yourself over more and more to the sensations.

You let your mind wrap around the feeling of her hair between your fingers. You took in the sensation of her moans against your core with each tug of her hair that got rougher and rougher as you got closer to your climax with each movement of her tongue. She ate you out with more and more vigor each moment, hands gripping your thighs and finger tips digging into your skin.

You felt the build in your core, already so turned on before her tongue even met your pussy. The coil inside curled tighter and tighter and your moans mixed with the lewd sounds of her tongue lapping over your clit. Your hips moved faster and faster against her tongue and your legs closed as much as she would allow as your moans grew louder and curses fell from your lips.

Wheein sucked your clit between her lips, pressing her face in between your legs. A cry fell from your lips as you came, legs trembling and crashing in around her head as your hips ground and rolled against her face. Pleasure crashed through your body in a wave, building from her first touch and finally releasing, leaving your body in a warm, happy, sensitive haze.

Wheein’s lips barely moved, slipping down only a little and you let out a moan as her tongue moved inside of you, lapping up your releases greedily. Her own moans were just a little higher and she let out whines and whimpers as you cursed and pulled at her hair as her tongue moved into your heat.

She curled and moved her tongue quickly, holding your hips against her face strongly. Moans and whimpers fell from her lips as she took every last drop of your release, her tongue moving quickly, feverishly. The candlelight shone in her eyes with each quick gaze she managed to give you her gaze grew sweeter and more doe-like, falling in line with each tug of her hair.

“That feels so good,” you let your voice come out breathy, biting on your lip subtly when she moaned against your core. “Don’t stop, princess.”

She moaned much louder at the name, it felt so different in this moment and her fingers gripped your thighs even more strongly as her tongue moved between your core and up over your clit. Her movements were growing more and more messy by the second but they felt so good to your already sensitive body.

Already the coil in your core was curling in on itself again. Every lap of her tongue over your clit sent a jolt of pleasure through your body and you ground your hips against her face in a quick rhythm. Your fingers curled into her hair even tighter, her whimpers growing louder and your own mood shifting.

“Just like that, princess,” you hummed. Your legs trembled, starting to squeeze in around her head. She let out a whine again, her face pressing desperately between your legs and her tongue moving in quick, sloppy, needy movements. You let your head fall back onto the plush bed and your eyes fell closed as curses fell off your lips.

Your back arched off the bed and your hips bucked up as she sucked your clit between her lips harshly. The coil inside you snapped and orgasm crashed through your body, drawing moans from your lips, sensation reaching to the tips of your toes and body shaking as the bliss washed over you.

Wheein let out small whimpers as she lapped at your core again, tasting your release until you sat up slightly. She looked up at you, eyes sweet and glossy and looking even more fucked out than you felt. The warm glow of the room lit her rosy face and the glistening of your release on her lips and chin.

You grabbed at her arms, tugging her closer roughly until your lips crashed against hers. One of your hands tangled into her hair, holding her close as you kissed her, her desperation clear in every kiss. Your other hand slid down her back until you could squeeze her ass roughly, drawing a moan from her lips, a smirk tugging at yours between kisses.

You pressed your thigh up between her legs, moaning against her lips at how wet she had gotten just from eating you out. Wheein was quick to start grinding against your thigh in quick movements, letting out pants and moans against your lips as she left her arousal on your thigh.

“You’re so wet, princess,” the breathiness of your voice only served to make her moan against your lips.

“Your taste,” she whined, words punctuated with kisses to your lips.. “Hearing you cum. Feeling you cum on my tongue. The way you smell better than anything.” She moaned loudly as you squeezed her ass roughly again and her hips bucked against your thigh.

Her words spun in your mind and you put all your energy into pushing her over, rolling quickly until she was on her back underneath you. You grabbed at her thighs and pushed them apart roughly. Your fingers dragged through her folds, gathering her slick on them until they met her clit, her hips jolting and a gasp pulled from her lips.

You started moving your fingers in quick, rough circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves and let yourself be nearly mesmerized by the sight of her.

Your gaze met your own fingers, moving quickly, and the way her hips followed your ministrations, rolling and grinding and bucking into your hand. Your gaze followed the curve of her hips, taking in the way her stomach braced and clenched as you worked her up more and more. They followed along her waist and up to the swell of her breasts as she took heavy breaths, they way they rose and fell just from the movements of your fingers.

Her moans, climbing higher in her voice, fell upon your ears and the sweet scent of her filled your nose as your gaze trailed along the line of her neck and up to her face. Far from her often pristine, royal image, this had to be the best view of her. 

Wheein’s hair was fanned out over the pillows, messy and beautiful. Her mouth hung open in a series of moans, lips still glistening and plump. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she focused on the pleasure and her face had a rosy, red-pink hue in the warm glow of the room, contrasting the deep, emerald tones of her bedspread.

“You’re breathtaking,” whether you meant the words to be heard by her or not you didn’t know, but her hips bucked up and her fingers curled in the soft fabric on her bed. Her head tilted back and you felt the desperate need to be closer, to feel every inch of her.

She didn’t have time to whine when you pulled your hand away from her core. Your legs tangled with hers and your lips found hers in a kiss as you shifted your hips until you could roll down against hers, feeling the rush of pleasure as you ground your clit against hers.

Wheein moaned into your mouth as you started to grind quickly. One of her hands found your back while the other grabbed at your ass. Small moans of “please” and “don’t stop” fell off her lips between kisses as you grabbed at any part of her body you could.

Your hips rolled and bucked quickly against hers, your moans mixing in the hot air of the room all around you. Her hips started to match your movements, both of you riding towards your highs quickly, the coil tightening again inside you and urging you to move even faster.

Her name fell off your lips and yours off of hers as nothing else mattered in that moment. Every other feeling or thought was wiped from your mind as pleasure built higher and higher inside you and your legs trembled as hers started to squeeze your thigh.

Wheein let out a cry of your name, back arching and her chest pressing up against you as she came hard. You felt the warm, gush of liquid from her core against you, listening to her moans and gazing at her fucked out expression only spurring you on.

You pushed up just a bit and rode her hard, drawing loud cries from her lips as she gripped your thigh for purchase. Your core slid easily against hers as you chased your high, so close to your edge again. Her broken moans we like music filling your ears and your eyes squeezed shut as you fell over into pleasure.

You released with a cry, collapsing on top of her as your arms gave out and feeling her arms immediately wrap around you, even in their shaky state. Stars burst behind your eyes, the pleasure swallowed you completely. You were left in a hazy state of bliss, body trembling and sensitive as your hips finally halted.

You stayed on her chest, both of you breathing heavy, neither wanting to move. You listened as the minutes passed, her heartbeat slowing bit by bit from racing as her breath followed suit. They grew deeper and so did yours as sleepiness set in and she pressed a tender kiss against your head, something that managed to make you just a bit flustered.

“Should we-”

“I’m so comfy,” she hummed. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Do you mean that?” Did she hear the weight behind your words?

“I mean everything I say,” she mumbled. 

A small smile tugged at your lips as ideas of words danced on your tongue, begging to come out.

“I wish it was all this simple,” her voice was quiet and as you processed her words her breathing grew slow until she was asleep. 

You wished the same thing, knowing the future she wanted could never truly happen.

You whispered. “I love you,” before sleep pulled you under.

[karlheisenberganyone]

This is my first post so I’m sorry if it’s bad lmao but yeaaa, this is kinda my first smut post ya knowww- but yea if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also I’m only doing this cause I’m bored asfffff 😫😫 also I might only post smut cause that’s what I’m best at cause I’m one hörny bish lmfao. So yea no one under 18 read I guess.

SMUT UNDER THIS PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Karl Heisenberg x female reader smut 18+

“Only for a bit”

Warning: cursing , kinkyyy, getting tied up, choking, pet calling (sweetheart, kitten) you also using names like sir. Just sexy stuff 😩

Enjoy <3

You were one of the 4 daughters of Lady Dimitrescu. You, Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra were treated very well, with rich delicious wine and goods. You were different from them though. All 4 of them were vampires, but you, you are an ordinary human being. Instead of eating human meat and drinking human blood, you ate normal animal meat and drank fine wine or water. It wasn’t difficult living with this family, you actually really enjoyed it. You had a wonderful mother and wonderful sisters. You felt loved and accepted in their family. You have lived with the Dimitrescu’s since a very younge age. You were brought into the family by Mother Miranda, who apparently found you in the abounded village a few miles away.

Today there was also a very important meeting being held up, and mother insisted you came over to accompany her, which you happily accepted. You were now In your bedroom, getting ready, but stopped when you heard a knock. “Sister, mother told me to bring you this dress she got made especially for you” you heard Bella say behind the door. “Oh ok, thank you very much and tell mother I’m very grateful” you said opening the door and taking the box with the dress in it. “I will, also mother wants you ready in 20 minutes” Bella said disappearing into a swarm of flies. “Ok!” You said loudly but not too loud.

You opened the box to see a gorgeous emerald green dress, with a bunch of gold swirls on the front with green gems. You slowly and carefully put the dress on and then go style your hair. You weren’t really used to these long dresses, and looking very elegant. After 20 minutes, you walked down the stairs in your heels, slowly to not fall over and make a scene of yourself. “You look absolutely stunning, as always dear” you heard your mother call out to you. “Thank you mother, and I’m very grateful for this dress. Bella told me it was specifically made for me” you tell your mother with a soft smile. “Only the best for my sweet beautiful daughter’s” your mother replied back with a soft smile. “So are you ready dear?” Your mother asked turning to look at you. “Yes mother” you said, taking your coat off the hanger and same with mother.

It was early autumn, and it was getting a tiny bit chilly. You walked down the paths, walking past many trees turning all different colours to show it was autumn. It truly was a gorgeous sight to see. After a few minutes of walking, you get to your destination. Mother opens the front door to find Donna sitting peacefully, greeting you and mother, while her doll running around laughing maniacally. Moreau was quietly lighting the candles to bring a bit of light inside. And Heisenberg no where to be seen yet. After all you were 30 minutes early. Mother sat down in her regular spot, talking to Donna about how she has been and catching up. You, you went to talk to Moreau about how well he has been. After 10 minutes of sitting down and talking to Moreau about video games he has, the door was harshly opened by a heavy boot, belonging to no other than Heisenberg. Everyone brings their attention towards the man himself, looking at his toothy white smile, greeting everyone by tilting his hat a bit and walking towards his seat. “So the dog decided to come over” mother started. “Oh shut up you bitch, I always come here for meetings, usually a bit late, but today is different!” Heisenberg said glaring at her through his glasses, and then looking at you, you looking back at him with an angry expression. “What are you frowning at kitten?” He asked you. “I do not like it when someone calls my mother in appropriate names” you said with a harsh and calm tone. “But your “dear mother” has called me a dog so I have full right to call her a bitch” he said putting his hands over he chair, and crossing his legs. “Not like she isn’t right” you mumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear you, and your mother laughing quietly.

“You wanna fight or something kitten?” He asked you leaning forward now. “No, I just don’t like my mother being called harsh words that aren’t true” you said glaring at him. But when he was about to argue, Mother Miranda has arrived, leaving Heisenberg to close his mouth and groan loud enough for you to look at him.

After about an hour or so, the meeting ended. “Y/n, dear, please do me a favour and walk home. I must talk to Mother Miranda about something very important, and I won’t be coming home any time soon” mother said. You give her a reassuring smile and a nod, putting on your coat. You weren’t scared of walking home, because you knew how to fight. You could kill and fight with no problem, after all you do live with vampires. You walked out the door, and first thing you smell is the strong smell of cigar and whiskey, telling you Heisenberg was right there, and you were right. You turned your head towards him watching him smoking his cigar with a “really, here?” look. You shake your head a bit and start walking home, but before you could go you heard him talk. “I didn’t let you go anywhere kitten did I?” He asked you, you turning around to look at him. You took a deep breath and said “no.1 I ain’t no kitten so stop with that kitten shit, and 2nd of all you ain’t my parent so I can do what I want” you said with a little smile and started walking off home.

But Heisenberg didn’t give up easily. He started following you. You turn around rapidly. “What do you want?” You asked. Heisenberg just watched you. You could feel him eye you up and down even with those glasses on. You sighed out loud and started walking again, not caring that he was right behind you anymore. “You know what kitten, come with me to my factory, I wanna show u something” he said suddenly. You turned around once again and looked at him. “Why would I go to your factory?” He sighed “Come on pet, do ya have anything betta to do? No, so come over to mine. At least I’ll have some company”. The thought of you and Heisenberg being together alone made you kind of excited. You liked this man for a bit and loved teasing and annoying him, and he loved doing the same thing.

“Fine, but only for a bit” you said, letting him go in front and lead the way. It was a small walk and you got there real quick. “So here we are, my dear factory” he said showing off his mechanical creation’s. After giving you a walk through the factory, you asked why he invited you over. “Well I had a few questions” he answered, and now ur curiosity wanted to know what he had to ask. “You look curious kitten, would ya like to know?” He asked which you responded with a nod. “Well kitten, why did you chose to listen to me and come over?” Was his question first. “I dunno, I was bored so yea” you responded. “2nd question, what’s your type?” You looked at him with a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know that?” You asked. “You really wanna know kitten?” He asked lowering his voice a bit, which makes you shiver in pleasure. “I would like to know, but is it worth it?” You asked. “Well you will have to wait and see” he said. “Come over here” he said taking his glasses off and hat, and you obeying him and come near him. You could see the lust and need in his eyes making you feel warm and tingly.

“I would like to know why you want to know my type, Heisenberg” you said getting closer to him. “You really wanna know dear?” Seeing the lust in his eyes. “Yes I do” you said, a teasing look on your face. “Cause I wanna see if I’m of any of your standards dear. I wanna see if I can claim you as mine” he said coming closer to your ear, whispering in a deep raspy voice, which made you feel wetness come over. “And what would you do to me if you were of my standards and could claim me as yours?” You asked, teasingly wanting to know his answer. “Oh I’d do a lot to you kitten~” he purred into your ear. “Could you tell me what exactly?” You asked. “Right now, I’d like to rail you right here right now, make you scream my name until you can’t speak no more, listen to your moans like some music, fuck you so hard you start shaking, tie you up and make sure you can’t fuckin escape and make you endure the pleasure” he said making him squirm under him, making you feel like a hot mess, with only words. “Can I touch you?” He asked. You nod, immediately, begging for some friction. He slowly put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him, and then taking your chin in one of his hands, and giving you a fast kiss, which soon turned into a heated make out session, his hands travelling around your body, while yours on his shoulders. Picking you up, he places you on the table behind him, throwing everything on the table onto the ground, placing you on top of it not stopping the kiss.

He soon started taking your dress off, unzipping it from the back, slowly to not make no damage. The kiss getting hotter and more heated, tasting the mix between cigar and whiskey, making your knees weak. After taking off the dress, he starts trailing kisses and bites down your jaw and kneck down to your exposed chest. He looked at you with a questionable look, and you gave him a quick nod to show him it was ok. After pleasuring you with your tits, and not getting a lot of moans out of you, it didn’t satisfy Heisenberg.

He laid you down onto your back and took of your panties. He gave you another look, and you nod. He slowly looks at you panties. “I haven’t even touched you that much, but look how fuckin wet you are kitten! And because of me and only for me” he said spreading your lips. He lowered himself biting at your thighs earning a few needy moans. It took him ages to finally give you a bit of pleasure by spreading your lips, and him finally using his mouth and tounge finally licking your clit, making your back arch and moan his name. That made Heisenberg go faster and add more pressure, which made you a moaning hot mess, for him and only him. “You taste fuckin delicious kitten” he said in pants. He then brought his 2 fingers, and slipped them inside you, curling them, making you feel more pleasure. When you felt your orgasm coming, Heisenberg stop what he was doing making you whine . “Come on, Heisenberg, I wanna cum so badly, please lemme cum” you moaned. “But kitten, I’m not done with you yet.” He said taking his shirt off, boots and then undoing his belt.

When he undid his belt, and unzipped his pants, you could see his hard erection, making you wetter. “Enjoying the view princess?” He asked while taking his dick out. You just gave him a needy look and that gave him the hint to put it in. But before that you saw metal scraps flying past him taking your hands and pinning them at the top of your head on the table, making you unable to move your hands. This distracted you, so you didn’t notice Karl moving forward getting in place to rail you. He pushed in, which made you wince in pain letting him enter you bit by bit. You didn’t notice how big he was, feeling him fill you to the brim. “Is that all you can take kitten? Well fuck you still have a bit to go. You are so tight for me baby” he said moaning breathily.

“I cant take anymore Heisenberg, it’s too much” you moaned your legs trembling. “I’ll make you take all of it” he said pushing the rest of his length deep inside, making you arch your back in pleasure, making you gasp hard. He let you adjust to his size for a few minutes until he started moving his hips. At first he went with a slow passionate pace, but seeing you arch your back moaning for more, he picked up speed and strength, taking his dick nearly out, and slamming back in, making you gasp and moan. “Kitten, I want to hear you loud, don’t hide any of your sweet noises” he said breathlessly. You gave him a light nod before him slamming himself into you again, making you nearly scream his name out, him hitting every perfect spot.

He took one of your legs, onto his shoulder, making him go deeper into you, making you a moaning mess. He then took his glove off, by teeth and started rubbing your clit, building another orgasm inside you. “Already another orgasm pet? You have to beg for this one a lot harder sweetheart” he said rubbing your clit harder and slamming harder into you. “P-please sir please let me c-cum, I’ll do anything, please let me cum, please” you begged in between moans. “Tell me how good I make you feel” Heisenberg same slamming into you faster, watching your face curl into pleasure. “You make me feel so good sir, please haah your dick makes me feel so good sir, you are so good sir” you said with tears in the corner of your eyes.

“Good girl, so fuckin good for me and only me” slamming hard into you, your legs trembling nearing your orgasm. “Karl I’m about to-“ you slightly screamed, but Heisenberg stopped you by wrapping his hand around your neck, his other hand still rubbing your clit, making you cum hard on his dick, squeezing him, making him go harder, chasing his own orgasm moaning fuck and your so fuckin tight. And then he slammed one more time, spilling his seed deep inside you, filling you up. After that intense orgasm, Karl fell on top of you trying to support his weight with his hands on each side of your head. He let you go off the metal scraps, and you put one hand in his hair and the other on his shoulder. “Fuck, I should’ve done this sooner, don’t ya think?” He asked slightly laughing. “You should have, but better now than never” you said and with that he lowered down to give you a soft passionate kiss, making you melt right under him.

“You should go home kitten.. you can maybe stay a bit longer next time” he mumbled softly, not wanting to let you go, but also not wanting you to get in trouble and hurt. “I should” you said getting up, cleaning up and dressing up. He just put on his trousers and belt and watched you while lighting a cigar in his mouth. You were about to head out until Karl took your wrist and kissed you a goodbye kiss. “I’ll see you again kitten” he said with a grin letting you go and opening the door for you. “Next time then. Bye bye” you said and he just waved. What a crazy day you told yourself walking home aching but happy.