#Please stop treating your audience like idiots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rushtoprove · 2 years ago

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to deceive a prince

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader rating: general audiences word count: 6k+ summary: when aemond targaryen shows interest in courting your little sister, she employs your help to capture his attention through sharing letters and notes, all the while acting as if you are her. it was never meant to become so complicated. warnings: medieval catfishing? rom-com vibes. a little bit of fluff because my masterlist was getting to angsty so i needed something to lighten it up. catfishing bad in real life obviously. This has been flagged as mature by the tumblr gods but i promise it’s not.

“Please!” You wanted to curse your sister. Could she not see you were enjoying the peace of the gardens? That you were content simply reading beneath the oak tree that kept you hidden from the surrounding courtiers? Why did she need to pester you with such idiotic conversation?

“Repeat it again?” You were in disbelief at what your younger sister had just requested of you, but her excitement rendered her oblivious to the discomfort.

“Prince Aemond requested me as a dance partner at the ball last night and now I am in love! But I woke up to this letter beneath my door and I do not know how to reply! Or what some of the words mean. He was so sullen with me last night that I thought he must have hated me so. But he likes me!” She spun around in childish glee, ignoring your widened eyes and cruel laughter.

“So, you want me to write back to him? As you? This morning did you not call him a tedious bore? You said you regretted wasting a dance on him, if I recall correctly?”

“Yes, yes, I know! I was too devastated that he did not like me, so I had no choice but to mask my despair. I know you understand what I’m asking for, I do not know why this is the fourth time you want me to repeat it you obviously know what I’m talking about!”

“Tell me one more time for good luck.” You could help but play with Mariyanna now, enjoying her desperation. You both had only just been sent to attend court three days ago, but it was no surprise to you that she would catch a suitor’s eye so quick. Even if it was the sullen prince with an ill temperament that many had warned you to take care around.

“Stop! Please sister, please!?”

“Many say he is a cruel man little Anna. Heartless even. Hell bent on revenge from years ago. And that he does not smile or laugh. I’m surprised he danced.” You sighed as you lowered your book and finally gave your attention to her. She was three years your junior, but you often treated her as a baby. She let her knees sink to the cold earth so that you both sat facing each other and Mariyanna clasped your hands together tightly.

“His mother requested he dance so he could begin trying to find a suitable wife. Apparently, he won’t accept anything his family suggest so he is being given the freedom to choose. As long as she is suitable enough to join their family.”

“He told you all this?”

“No, his brother Aegon told me after he saw us dance for the second time.”

“The drunk?”

“Hush sister. But yes... that one. You would know all this if you attended!” She tried to glare at you in disappointment, but her smile was uncontainable. She was truly getting swept up in a fantasy that was created less than a day ago. You rolled your eyes at her comment before lifting your book back up.

“You are a fool little sister.”

“Imagine it though! Me! Marrying a prince and becoming a princess! I think I would fit well into that duty.” Her eyes glazed over as she imagined her possible future, but once she returned to reality, and quickly returned to begging. You groaned as your book was covered by the letter Prince Aemond had slid beneath her door, turning your nose up at the courting language. It was infected with imagery of nature and copious amounts of sentences comparing sweet Mariyanna to different flowers. You moaned in discomfort.

“PLEASE!?” She cried. You did not want to. You loathed the idea. But you were always ready to do whatever your sister required, so with a sigh you wrote a letter in return. She complained it was not filled with enough declarations and promises of love and duty, but you simply waved her away.

“You do not want to seem desperate for him. He will think you are only after his title.” And like always, your sister followed whatever you said. After that she sat wide-eyed as you quickly wrote down little sentences that quietly asked to be answered. You made small jokes about their previous night as you listened to your sister retell every moment in detail. The moment it was finished she bounced up quickly and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“I love you!” You had no time to reply before she spun on heel and raced up the grass hill, desperate to find a maid to deliver the letter.

“That’s the only time Mariyanna!” You called out after her, but she was already gone.

+++

It was only a day later that your little sister had come running back with a letter grasped tightly in her grip. This time she was interrupting your alone time in the library.

“He replied!” She squealed before shoving you along the stone bench to sit beside you. You thanked the gods no one ever seemed to come to this part of the castle, as they much preferred the newly renovated library across the other side of the red keep. She gave no time for you to reply before it was shoved into your face.

Mariyanna,

I must apologize as there has been a mistake. I did not send any letter to you after our dances. I believe my mother has taken it upon myself to incite conversation between us. However, I quite enjoyed your reply, and I would like to talk more this evening. Please do me the pleasure of accompany me on a walk along the grounds.

Prince Aemond

“My letter has captured him! Can you believe it!? A prince!” You almost laughed at her. Almost.

“Why are you here and not racing down to find him?”

“I do not know what to talk about I need some tips. I know he studies philosophy and he read many books according to Lady Ariyanna. I need you to give me some talking points!” She begged.

“You want talking points on books you’ve never read? Little Anna I am sure you must simply be yourself and he will fall in love with you. Do not mould yourself into something you are not. He would be a fool not to be enticed instantly for your charm and beauty.” You brushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled at the delight that had consumed her entire being.

“I know! And I won’t! I just need some extra wit. I need your brains. You are the most intelligent person I know. Just this once. Afterwards I shall use my own letters and interests.” You sat staring at one another for a second before you simply sighed.

“Fine.”

You had one hour to drill small jests and facts about your favourite books. You discussed quickly about Ten Thousand Ships and the journey Nymeria faced in her battle to be Queen. You kept it short and simply, but hoped it was enough for her to act out her silly little infatuation with the young prince. For your sister’s sake. She could not sit still from the nerves of what was to come, and you swore there was no way she would recall everything. It felt she was hardly listening, but your sister was treating the whole thing quite seriously.

When she left you, you moved to gaze out from the window and looked down to the gardens below. You had the perfect view of your nervous sister. She was cautious as she moved towards the looming figure of the prince, his arms crossed behind his back and his posture standing tall. He was looking upon the oak tree you had sat yesterday but turned as he realised your sister had crept forth. They bowed, and you imagined they greeted each other, before beginning the boring small talk that comes with meeting someone new. But when you saw your sister begin laughing, and his arm move to offer itself to her, you knew your tips had paid off.

Moving away with a sigh, you returned to your book.

That was all you would do for their courtship now.

+++

You don’t know how your sister did it, but letter upon letter you had exchanged with Prince Aemond over the last few months. It quickly became easier than breathing. His interests were the same as yours, and his humour yours too. The books he suggested kept you enticed to the very last page, and he wrote that your recommendations happened to do the very same. You found him charming, however not overbearing, and you quickly realised you had dug yourself the deepest grave. You had never loved anyone.

Until now.

“Mention how I enjoyed his thoughts on Lies of the Ancients! Oh, and that I have come to agree the Starks made up all their stories to look really powerful!” You looked at your sister, disturbed by her ridiculous take.

“I will not write that.” You muttered. You don’t remember how she coerced you in to writing this letter, yet here you were, scribbling stupid quips and more enticing conversation starter.

“It was what Aemond told me. It will show I was listening!”

“Mary, he is playing with you. No one regards Archmaester Fomas’s writing as anything more than an old man raving his madness to the masses. If he brought it up, I believe... well, I believe he was making a joke.” You grimaced at your sister, trying hard not to imagine her nodding along to Aemond Targaryen’s dry humour.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well write that I thought it was a funny jest.” She leaned her weight on to your back to get a full view of the stupid letter. You groaned beneath her with a huff but decided that you would mention that you knew he was jesting with his thoughts. You did not want your sister to come off as a halfwit. Or perhaps it was that you did not want him to think you a halfwit.

“There. Mariyanna, I truly mean it when I say this is the last time, I shall do this. It does not feel right to mislead Prince Aemond.” You pushed the letter away in defeat for her to sign, which she happily scribbled on. You heart ached from the entire ordeal. At night you found yourself craving the idea of Aemond finding out the truth, but you also resented the idea of your sister being left broken. She brought the letter to her lips and placed a small kiss to the corner of it, leaving her lip paint to stain the very edge.

“I know. I just don’t want to lose his attention. He is so tall and strong and princely. If it is not me who mothers his children, I do not know how I shall survive.” Her giggling was infectious, and you thought you hoped her happiness would never fade. So much so, you knew you were willing to give up your own for your sweet little sister.

“Just... be careful little Anna. I worry you have fallen too deep into something that could implode in any moment.” You hoped she would heed your warning, but the youthfulness glee did not fade from her eyes, leaving you in doubt that she had even heard. Her snickering suddenly came to a stop when the sound of the libraries grand door clicked open. You cursed inwardly, how many people were to invade the only peaceful part of the whole keep? She eyed you uncertainly and you quickly shrugged back in panicked confusion. She shrugged back at you even harder making you roll your eyes and point for her to see who had entered.

“Why me?” She mouthed. You rolled your eyes and shoved her off her chair, leaving her no choice to silently toe towards the edge of the bookcase. Leaned forward in anticipation, you almost cried out in fright as she swung around in panic.

“What!?” You hissed, bouncing to your feet in fear of whatever danger had entered. She quickly began shooing you away with her hands and began tidying the desk you had left sprawled with your readings.

“Go!” She mouthed silently at you again. You angrily threw your hands up in frustration at her choice not to answer, but the sound of man clearing his throat halted your every movement.

“My ears may deceive me, but I thought I heard your laughter, Lady Mariyanna.” Your jaw opened and closed in shock before you desperately began waving to your sister.

“Not here!” You quietly begged her. You did not want to see. You did not need the image of him staring upon your sister and whispering in her ear. You wanted to preserve what you had with him in your stupid letters.

“What do I do!? Why do I say I was in here for?” She grasped your shoulder and pulled you into her, shaking you for an answer. Stumbling in disbelief, you shook your head. You were both rattled by this turn of events, but you still could think unlike your sister.

“Fucking reading you idiot!” You hissed, making her almost slap her forehead.

“Right? Fuck what book?” She haphazardly began spinning on her spot, and you both desperately tried to find a book.

“Let me come and find you, my prince!” She cried out in fake delight before staring at you franticly. You both shrugged violently at each other and began glaring in alarm.

“You must leave. I will not be able to hide here long.” The sound of footsteps grew closer, leaving your sister no choice but to shove you away.

“No need. Who I am to draw you away from your readings?” The voice called out. You stilled for a second over the calmness of his voice.

“I’ll just read what you were reading.” She was alarmed by how close he was and quickly gave up the effort of finding a book.

“No!” You cried out quietly as you stumbled behind the bookcase. She ignored your cry and left you to crouch down out of sight, biting your knuckle in shame for what was about to happen. You were secluded enough behind the shelves that you were hidden from the great Aemond Targaryen, but you found you had a perfect view of the meeting. You watched in trepidation as he slowly stepped to the table that your sister had managed to gracefully sit at, after she had calmed herself from the madness that had taken over you both.

“My lady.” He bowed before her, leaving her nothing more than a blushing mess. If you had not have been in the clutches of utter panic at your precarious position, you would have rolled your eyes at her folly.

“Prince Aemond. I did not expect you!” She was flustered by his towering figure leaning over her, and quickly moved to stand, but he gently lay a hand on her shoulder to keep her sitting comfortably before him. Breathing in deeply, he let his eye rake over the shelves making you quickly duck away from his gaze. It was a surprise your beating heart did not give you away for you swore every person in the kingdom could hear it.

“No need for such formalities. It is I who has intruded upon your time; therefore, it is I who should be paying you the respect you deserve.” His tone did not match the sentiment as you had never heard such an unwavering, and proper speech come from any man in the court. No one could deny the authority that seeped from his very being, nor the power he held in his mere stance. Something quivered inside you at the sight of him, but it was in the most delicious way possible.

“I do not consider it an intrusion my prince. I am always grateful for your company.” Mariyanna squeaked out, her face the deepest shade of pink you had ever seen. You wondered how she had managed to converse with him this far?

“Please, you know I wish for you to call me Aemond.” The corner of his lip seemed to move upwards, and you wondered if that was his idea of a smile. Gazing upon his face, you found yourself struck by just how handsome the prince was. You had heard him to be described as frightening and dangerous, but no one had mentioned how sharp his jaw was. Your sister had informed you that his face simple, but pretty enough, and you felt the need to wring out her neck right then and there. How could she be so blind?

“Yes, my prince.” Anna sighed out dreamily and this time not even the panic of the situation could stop you from rolling your eyes.

“Are you enjoying your book?” Aemond enquired, reaching down and bringing the cover to his face. Your sister was too busy in her own realm of glee to notice the way his remaining eye widened in shock. You inwardly groaned.

“Oh yes! I am learning so much! I really think it one of the greatest books ever written.” Your sister tried to feign interest, placing her chin upon her hand and smiling up at Aemond. You had groaned even louder in your head. It was a shock when Aemond let out a breathless chuckle.

“Well... you continue to surprise me. Perhaps you shall have to tell me what you learn by the end." You could not blame Aemond for thinking your sister was being flirtatious because the book you had been reading was A Caution for Young Girls, a book banned from most libraries in the seven kingdoms for its erotica and sinfulness. It was infamous, so when it was passed back to your sister to look upon, even she knew what the novel was about.

“Oh god no! Not me!” She cried out in shock before throwing it across the library franticly. She quickly began spewing out apologies for presenting such an ungodly object before Aemond, while he simply looked at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“You do not need to worry. I shall not disclose it to anyone.” He tried to jest but it simply made her more frantic.

“I’m sorry you see? It was my sister! She must always make sure she partakes in the most unproper things to displease my father. see? It was my sister! She must always make sure she partakes in the most unproper things to displease my father.” You did not miss the way she hissed, knowing fully well that she intended you to hear her anger. You flinched into yourself, mortified that the prince would now think you a sexual deviant before you were to even become acquainted. You had only wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

“You have never mentioned a sister?” Perhaps Aemond was trying to defuse your sister’s panic, but the statement tugged at your heart hard. How had your sister not thought to mention you after all these meetings over these past few months.

“Yes... well... she doesn’t leave her room much, you see? She, well everyone thinks she is quite simple.” The tug was so harsh you felt your entire heart shatter inside your ribcage. As if she heard, Mariyanna looked apologetically towards where you were hidden. Aemond was gazing solemnly out the window so you simply took the opportunity to make sure she could see the way your lifter your middle finger in her direction.

“Cunt.” You mumbled, before quickly ducking once more as Aemond turned.

“I understand. My brother is the simplest person in the entire seven kingdoms. It seems we have much in common.” This time he finally did smile down at your sister, who in return, linked her arms tightly in his.

“Well at least we have each other to keep company.” She gazed up at Aemond from beneath her eyelashes, and you didn’t miss the way his eye softened.

“I came here for a reason, actually.” He muttered; his gaze unbroken from hers. He frowned as she quickly moved her gaze to anywhere but his scarred skin that was hidden beneath his eye patch but continued anyways. “I wished to invite you to dinner with my siblings tonight. I would like to introduce you to my sister Heleana and younger brother Daeron. Unfortunately, Aegon will also be attending but perhaps you can invite your brainless sister to entertain him.” His description left you heart squeezed, drained of every drop of happiness and leaving it to bleed through his tight grasp.

“She will be there. I’ll make sure of it. Now come, let us wonder the gardens! It is a beautiful day outside! Much too beautiful to be cooped up in here. It’s so dusty.” Your sister danced away merrily, happy to have succeeded in diverting away from a disastrous interaction. You swore you heard Aemond follow, so with a huff you stood straight and began stretching out your cramped limbs. When you gazed at the door, however, you saw him lingering, playing with the note you had written for him only moments ago. You watched the soft chuckle as he read it, and the way his demeanour seemed to lighten.

“Continuing to surprise me.” He huffed, before slowly bringing the edge of it to his lips. The act was intimate, much to intimate for you to be gazing on. Stumbling back, you tried to remove yourself, but your skirt knocked down a book from a top its stack, and Aemond swung around in haste. You saw him begin stalking forward to find the source of the noise, making you cover your mouth and bite down hard on your palm.

“Who goes there?” He whispered, prying his head around the bookcase. If Mariyanna was to renter, she would see Aemond standing above you, the only thing keeping you hidden was the books and cloths hanging over the shelf. You heard him inhale deeply, and for a moment you felt like prey being hunted by an animal. But she never came, and instead she called.

“My Prince!” Her laughter floated about the room, making Aemond instantly straighten with a huff.

“Hmmm.” He whispered, before turning and stalking off in her direction. You did not realised your skirt had been in plain view.

Shamefully, you agreed to attend the meal with no argument. You would like to sit before Aemond once, even if it was to watch his courtship of your sister. Absolutely shameful.

“I am happy you joined us, Mariyanna! My brother has talked a lot about you. A lot. Like all the time! Yesterday, I was showing him some art and he said it reminded him of this poem you had suggested he read. Even though he doesn’t like poetry. And, when you said you read that stupid book about ancient people lying, he was so amazed he didn’t shut up about it for a whole week! AND...”

“Daeron, please, for the love of the gods shut up.” Helaena quipped up, placing a protective hand on Aemond’s sleeve. Daeron giggled mischievously, his childish humour leaving only him amused. The glare Aemond sent his way left him clutching hard at the table trying not to let himself howl out in delight. You were seated beside him, with Aegon boredly picking his teeth in the reflection of his soup spoon on you other side. Helaena was perched across from him but was seated beside her obviously favourite brother Aemond. Mariyanna was seated on his other side. This meant Aemond and yourself were seated directly across from one another, and due to Helaena forcing the dinner to be an intimate event, your legs were almost touching his under the small table. The heat that radiated off him, and the accidently touches of his long legs had you pressing your thighs together as tightly as possible.

You do not know what possessed you to read that stupid book.

“Thank you for being kind enough to invite me.” Your sister ducked her head in appreciation, and you quietly sighed as no one paid any mind to you. It was a shock, however, when you raised your gaze and saw Aemond staring upon you, as if analysing your very soul. Without a second thought, you stared at him in the exact same way.

“Yes, my brother says you love all those stupid books. I’ve been trying to convince my mother to renovate that ancient library in the south corner of the keep and turn it into a theatre for us to watch plays. The commonfolk have some fucking hilarious skits.” Aegon laughed ignorantly, and you watched your sister laugh too.

“Oh no!” Your words came before your thoughts, and everyone quickly turned to you. You quickly looked at your sister for some support only to see her looking at you in frustration. “My sister loves that library.” You coughed out, and Mariyanna quickly nodded in agreement.

“It’s filthy. The new one is much nicer.” Aegon pointed out. Mariyanna kept nodding, getting confused with who she should comply with, but you shook your head.

“It’s too busy. And it censors the books too much.” You muttered falling into your seat to try and hide yourself from the attention. Aemond chuckled at your words, before beginning to tap his fingers a top the table.

“Yes. I hear you enjoy the restricted section of the library.” He smirked at you, thinking he knew a secret that you didn’t. Led to believe that he was alone in the library with your sister. But you were there, and you understood his words perfectly, leaving you reddened in shame.

“Oh really? How obscene do you enjoy your novels?” Aegon was suddenly interested as he snaked his arm around your chair and leaned in with a grin.

“Ugh.” You grunted out in disgust without thinking, leaving Mariyanna gasping in shock.

“Forgive my sister she...” She was drowned out by the laughter the three siblings shared at the treatment of their brother.

“Move away from her Aegon.” Aemond sighed. Aegon sighed in mock defeat, before turning his attention to swirling his wine. Looking away, you tried to turn your attention to your sister, but was caught by Aemond’s gaze once more.

“You do not come to any of my mother’s dances, am I right?” Shifting nervously, you quickly shook your head.

“I find my sister is much better at those types of things. I like to live through her little stories.” He hummed at your reply, before drawing his goblet to his lips.

“And what do you do in your spare time? Write?” Your sister and you stared panicked at one another, before you quickly shook your head. Helaena stared confused at the three of your, but Aemond simply looked at you. Nowhere else. His eye was on you.

“Not me.” The squeak of your voice mimicked that of your sister’s fluster under his gaze. Mariyanna was biting down hard on her lip, willing herself not to cry. She thought it obvious you had been caught.

“I just noticed the ink stains on your fingers. It was a simple assumption.” You quickly hid your fingers in the sleeve of your gown and tried to think up an excuse. But everything thought seemed to evade you.

“Not me.” You repeated quietly. The room fell silent for a moment, everyone staring between yourself and Aemond, but then you found yourself saved by the servants. The doors swung open as they swarmed in, carrying different trays of food and began arranging your feast on the small table. You quickly looked at your sister who widened her eyes in question. You simply widened your eyes back. You also did not understand what was happening.

“I have been so hungry this whole time.” Daeron moaned as he began piling his plate with potato's. Everyone moved to reach for a dish, so you quickly reached for the spoon that was within the soup dish. It also happened to be the dish Aemond reached for leaving you both grasping onto the tips of each other's fingers instead of the spoon. You quickly pulled back and cradled your hand with widened eyes. The touch had sent a sensation down your entire being, even all the way to your toes, leaving you with no choice but to curl them up inside your slippers.

“Apologies.” You choked out, looking down shamefully. You cursed yourself in embarrassment, declaring to yourself that he really will think you simple and brainless at the end of this dinner. He simply hummed at your regret, before lifting your bowl towards him. Without a word, he poured you a serving before returning it to you. No words were spoken as you nodded in appreciation.

+++

The dinner had gone smoothly after that. Perhaps smoothly wasn’t the right word. You had to cradle Mariyanna in your arms as she had spent the whole time after sobbing. Aemond had not paid her much attention to her, and she thought it obvious he had figured out that it was you who had captured him all those months ago.

“Shhh you do not know that to be true.”

“I do! I saw the way he was looking at you.” You had patted down her hair in comfort as she shook in your arms. You could not celebrate at the idea that Aemond might have figured it out because you heart ached for your sister.

“Even if he has figured out that it was I that was writing the letters, it does not mean he did not fall for you after all those hours he spent courting you.” You tried to reassure her, but her broken cries only got louder.

“I could tell he did not like our talks. I am not dumb. I knew when I laughed at the wrong times and disagreed and agreed on his thoughts mistakenly. I knew he only liked me because of your letters. I just thought with more time he might grow fond of me.” You shushed her crushed sobs and pressed a kiss atop her head.

“If he did not grow fond of your little Anna, then he is a fool.” You whispered. She lay in your arms a little longer, before letting out a long exhale. She quickly sniffed, before sitting herself up and wiping her eyes.

“It is okay.” She whispered, pinching her cheeks and quickly blinking away her tears. You were shocked by her sudden change of demeanour, but she ignored you and moved to her window. With a frown you slowly stood, scared any sudden movement would break her once more.

“Mary...”

“Veron Greyjoy has asked me to wed him. I think I shall accept it.” She gazed out, as if she had not mentioned something so immense.

“What?” You rushed to her side, but she simply sighed at you like you were an idiot. Clasping your hands with hers, she finally looked at you.

“My courtship with Aemond was flawed. I had to make sure I had other options. Of course, marrying a prince of Westeros was the ideal option but I was not dumb enough to think there was a certain likeliness of me wedding him. Unlike you, I do not mind if I marry for security. So, I entertained some men on the side. I have had a few other proposals of course, but I enjoy Veron’s company the most.” You could not speak from the shock of her news, but Mary simply kissed your fingers.

“What of Aemond?”

“He was kind, of course. And I would have been happy to wed him because I believe he shall make a wonderful husband. But I do not love him.” Disbelief. It is all that you felt. But you should not have been surprised. Your baby sister was born to thrive amongst the court, and you were a fool for thinking her dim-witted. Perhaps she was a greater schemer than Otto Hightower?

“You’re fucking insane.” You let out a breathless laugh, as you stumbled to leave her room.

“At first I was committed to him.” She called. You turned back to look at her smirking face. “But I started looking elsewhere when I saw you sign one of those letters with your own name.” Staring at her with a gaping mouth, you could not believe what was happening.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You muttered defensively. It only made her chuckle.

“You have my permission.”

“For what!?”

“You may let him court you. I know you love him. And who am I to get in the way of that? I do not remember a time you showed interest in any man.” She smiled lovingly at your blushing form while you stood spluttering out sentences of denial.

“He is a prince.” You finally whispered in defeat. You could never hide anything from her.

“And you shall be a fine princess.”

+++

You could not sleep after your talk with your sister. You had spent your night twisting and turning under the moonlight that streamed in from your window. So, with a huff, you found yourself marching to the library in a robe. Carrying a candle and allowing your hair to flow freely as your bare feet slapped upon the stone hallways, you were sure to have looked like a madwoman, but you were to frazzled to care. It was only when you made it into your hideaway within the library, that you finally allowed yourself to relax. You began lighting the candles upon the walls so that you had enough light to read and allowed yourself to reach for the book Ten Thousand Ships. During your exchanges with Aemond, you had spent many letters discussing Nymeria and her reign over Dorne. It was your favourite piece of literature, and it was his too.

You couldn’t read. You tried. Gods you tired. But the longer you stared at a page, the more distorted the words became. Instead, your mind was only on Aemond.

“You deceived me.” The sudden voice that came from between the shelves made you scream in shock. The book dropped as you quickly pushed yourself back in fear. But it only took a moment to be reminded whose voice that was. You watched as Aemond stepped forth from the shadows, still in his leather pants from dinner, but now just a sheer white undershirt covering his torso. The candlelight illuminated his face as he moved forward, and you breath hitched at the sight. He no longer had his eyepatch strapped up, but instead he left his missing eye bare for you to see. You expected a sunken hole where his missing eye once was, but the light caught on the sapphire, and you watched it glisten. You were awed, and when he noticed you did not look away from his scarring, he could not help but look upon you fondly. Swallowing your anxiousness, you simply bowed your head.

“I am sorry Aemond. Truly.” You cursed yourself for being so informal and allowing yourself to call him by his name, and when you watched him clench then unclench his fists, you thought you had already ruined everything.

“I could have you arrested for such fraudulence.” He muttered beneath his breath, making your neck bow even further. You felt tears spring to the corners of your eyes while you tried to gain composer.

“It is true. And perhaps I deserve it. I did not intend for it to go this far.” Your breath was shaky as you exhaled your words and allowed yourself to slowly lift your gaze. You expected to see Aemond glaring, full of hatred at the revelation that he had been played a fool, but he was simply looking down at you with an amused smile.

“I jest. I shall not have you arrested.” He apologised with a smirk, and this time your heart began to race for different reasons. No longer were you in fear of imprisonment, for now all you care for was the way Aemond Targaryen was standing above you in hardly any clothes, while you were sitting on the ground like a peasant with no shoes and untidy hair. You could not look away from the way his hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, and it was at that moment that you realise how unkept it was. It looked as if he had run his fingers through it a million times and in different directions.

“I could find no sleep.” You whispered. He exhaled a breath and let out a soft hum.

“Neither could I. My mind is... preoccupied.” You nodded in understanding and felt your heart soar from your chest. You were no fool. You know what was happening.

“Will you sit with me?” You suggested as you began clearing away the books you had scattered across the floor. Aemond did not need to think as he gracefully dropped to his knees and allowed himself to fall to your side. Trying to make yourselves comfortable, he let his hand stretch you behind you, and you were quick to fall into his side.

“Are you still reading A Caution for Young Girls?” You felt yourself choke at his jest, before allowing yourself to laugh.

“No. I finished it.” You smirked while pulling your book back into your lap. “Hmmm. A shame.” He whispered, leaving a tingling sensation running down your spine.

“I found it... enlightening.” You smirked as you ran your thumb across your lower lip. You felt him push his nose in your hair and you both couldn’t help but smile. You let out something between a moan and a laugh, before holding up Ten Thousand Ships.

“I believe you are familiar?” You teased. He let his teeth draw in his bottom lip quickly before chuckling at your question.

“I know something of it.” You went to turn the next page but stopped as you felt him move your wild hair to the side.

“Let us start again.” He whispered. Reaching down to your hand, he pulled up your fingers and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“I am Aemond Targaryen, my lady. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

#aemond targaryen fic #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond imagine #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond

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captain19cb97 · 5 months ago

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Fairytale (M/F/A) P1.5 :: l.mh

Synopsis: Minho doesn't pretend to know everything, but he's positive that he knows this much is true.

Pairing: Mafia!Lee Know x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Genre: Mafia AU. Fluff, some angst, smut! Established friendship to relationship. Secrets.

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ audience! Small SMUT moment, mention of violence, mentions of weapons- (not in this part but in others) please don't read if anything related to violence are triggers for you in any way, shape, or form. This little series will not be without some deaths, sadly, I mean, they are mafia after all... Cursing, crying. The usual pet names- baby, jagi.

(A/N:: Just a little filler part that I wanted to do. I felt like it would be nice to see some of Minho's inner thoughts about them. I hope you guys enjoy! As always, please let me know if I've left any warnings out)

How did Minho know that things with you would be any different?

It was a question that Minho seemed to keep asking himself whenever he had to cancel plans with you because something happened or he had a mission, but you never questioned him about why he needed to leave your place at 2 or 3 in the morning to go to work, or why he was canceling dinner plans only hours before he was supposed to pick you up.

Before he knew it, months had gone by, and you two were still together, and even then, you still never asked him about all the little work related mishaps that he had to deal with. Until one night, about 5 months into being together, he came over and was sporting a nasty looking bruise along his jaw, and his lip was busted up a little.

You frowned at him the minute he stepped foot into your apartment, seeing the look on his face. “What happened to you?” You asked, quickly getting up from the couch and rushing towards him.

He sighed as he set his things down by the door, “Some crazy asshole tried to get to Chan today. I threw myself in between them so Chan didn’t get hurt.”

Mostly true, but then again, you didn’t need every detail.

You were silent for a moment as you gently touched his cheek, nudging his chin to turn his head so you could really look at the damage.

“Someone tried to attack your boss?” You asked, the genuine surprise in your tone not lost on Minho as you led him into the bathroom to put some ointment on the cut on his lip and to tend to the bruises you could see beginning to form along his jaw. “Why?”

“He was some protester, I guess.” Minho shrugged, leaning against the bathroom counter as you moved around him. “He’s convinced that the company is responsible for that accident that happened at that product factory a couple weeks back. And since it’s Chan’s company, he blames Chan for it.”

You frowned deeply, holding Minho’s chin between your fingers to keep him still, “Even an idiot would know that Chan and the company aren’t responsible for what happened at that factory.” You shook your head, “Chan’s got power and money, yes, but he’s not corrupt or evil. And he’s definitely not going to blow up his own factory and kill innocent people in the process for any reason.”

Minho flinched as you wiped an alcohol covered cotton pad across the cut, “You’ve never met him and yet you sound so sure about him.” He commented, admittedly letting his own curiosity of what you’d think loosen his mouth a little. “How do you know he isn’t corrupt or evil?”

You simple peered up at him, gently applying the healing ointment to his lip now, and smiled softly, “Because I don’t think you’d have put yourself in front of him, if he was either of those things.” You answered easily. “You’re not corrupt, or evil, so I doubt you’d work for someone who is.”

“I could be.” He said softly, his eyes following your every move.

You stopped putting the first aid kit away, staring back up at Minho with soft eyes and an even softer smile, “You carry cat treats in your pockets when we go on walks because of the stray cats around this neighborhood. You help Mrs. Yang down the hall with her groceries when you see her struggling in the lobby. You wave at kids on the street whenever we go somewhere.” You grinned up at him, “You are not corrupt or evil, baby.”

“You sound awfully sure about that.” He countered, an almost undetectable edge to his words.

You looked him in the eyes. “Because I am sure about it,” You replied easily. “I have never once felt unsafe with you, or around you. You actually make me feel the safest I’ve felt since I was a child and given all the things I’ve seen in my life, that’s as close to a miracle as it gets, Min.”

You were both quiet for a moment before you gave him a gentle smile, “Is Chan okay?”

He let out a small sigh and nodded, “Completely, yeah. The guy never got near him.”

“Thanks to you,” you offered him a gentle smile. “Did Chan have the guy arrested or is he pressing charges on your behalf?”

Minho hesitated for a mere second in his reply, knowing that where that guy was currently locked up was the furthest thing from a lawful imprisonment that someone could get when it came to Chan or the guys, “Something like that, yeah.”

You nodded, “Good. Then whatever happens to him from here on out is entirely deserved for trying to attack your boss.” Then you let out a soft breath, “I’m just glad that you’re okay, though. You’re not in too much pain, are you?” You asked, gently cupping his slightly bruised cheek.

He shook his head, “I’ve dealt with much worse, jagi, don’t worry about me.”

You gave him a look, “Normally I don’t, but when you show up at my apartment at almost midnight with a face that’s bloody and bruised, it’s kind of hard not to, my love.”

You both fell into a quick silence once again. Minho was waiting for you to truly begin questioning him about what really happened, while you were just looking over his face, really taking in his very minor injuries. You had questions- of course you had questions- but you weren’t going to ask any of them because it wasn’t anything he wanted to talk about, clearly. If he did, he never would’ve stopped talking in the first place.

But you never asked anything else.

He just continued to stare down at you for another moment, before he grabbed the sides of your face, quickly blanketing your lips with his. He knew he caught you off guard, but you kissed him back eagerly, gripping the sides of his shirt in your hands as you relaxed into the kiss, letting him pull you as close as possible before he slowly wrapped his hands under your thighs, and lifted you from the floor.

You pulled away from his lips in surprise, eyes wide as he carried you out of the bathroom and straight to your bed. He peered up at you, standing with his knees just barely brushing the mattress, set on laying you down as you stared at each other.

You could see the words swirling behind his eyes, but he wasn’t actually saying anything, as you gently stroked his cheek with one hand, the other still threaded in the back of his hair. “What are you thinking about, my love?” You whispered, your nose brushing his.

How did Minho know that things with you would be any different?

Minho would admit to not knowing everything, but he was as sure about you as he was about breathing. And while he was still hesitant about many things because this was so entirely new to him, and his only example for something similar went down in flames, and is now the reason Chan implemented new foundations for new protocols within the crew for safety.

You were nothing like Haerin- Minho hadn’t trusted her from the moment Chan introduced her to the boys- but you? Minho was captivated by you the moment he laid eyes on you. And he felt as comfortable around you as he did around all the boys, he always has.

He took that to mean that his sixth sense was still working, he’d never been wrong about someone or something yet, not even after all the years he’s spent not trusting a single person other than the crew, or you.

There was something about you that he could never pinpoint, something that told him you were everything you seemed to be where he was concerned. You had your secrets, but he didn’t push about knowing them, anymore than you pushed him to know his.

How did Minho know that things with you would be any different?

Because you showed him every single day that you wanted the person he was at 2 in the morning while you both are wrapped up together in your bed, talking about how he’d reorder the letters of the alphabet if he had to.

And when you asked him how work was at the end of the day, it was the same questions, “How was your day, baby?” and, “I hope you had a good day today because my god, you look too handsome to not have had a good day.” And honestly, his favorite to answer to when he tells you it was a slow day, “Did your day go as slow as mine did today because you missed me so much?”

You never asked for more, and when he tells you that he doesn’t want to talk about his day, you smile at him, kiss his cheek and tell him that it’s okay, “We can just make dinner, then.” And the night goes on like he’s just some regular joe kinda boyfriend.

Minho doesn’t pretend to know everything, but he’s positive that he knows this much is true.

He let out a breath through his nose, pecking your lips once, twice, three times before he knelt on the bed. “How much I love you.” He mumbled gently laying you on your back as he trailed soft kissed from your lips, down your neck, across the bare skin of your chest, where you shirt didn’t cover, before he was planting his lips back on yours again.

His words rang in your ears, and you slowly pulled away from him, your eyes flicking between his. “You mean that?”

He cupped your cheek, a small smile on his face, “With everything I have.”

You blinked, “Say it again.” You whispered.

He pecked your lips once, mumbling against them, “I love you.”

You hummed softly into the next kiss, hands tangled in his hair, “I love you.” You said against his lips.

The weight of his body on top of yours was comforting and yet, also lighting a fire within you, the longer he kissed you- which by now felt like an eternity. His hands trailed along your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he held and gripped different parts of you. And you could feel that you weren’t the only one being affected.

“Min,” You breathed softly, your eyes closed at the feeling of his lips pressed to your neck, before you gasped in pleasure when he sank his teeth into your skin.

“I want you.” He panted against your shoulder, “Fuck, I-I need you, baby.”

You felt yourself nodding before he’d even finished talking, gripping the back of his head tightly, pulling his lips back to yours, “Please, Minho. Please, touch me.” You begged, arching your back and pressing your chest into his.

He let out a strained noise, quickly kissing you again, and letting his hand wander a little lower than before, his fingertips dancing along the band of your sweatpants for only a moment before he slid his hand under the elastic.

You moaned into his mouth, the feeling of him applying gentle pressure against your clit before he started teasing your slit, was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You’re soaked already, baby,” He smirked against your lips, teasingly rubbing his finger up and down your slit even slower, “What should I do about that, hmm?”

You let out a shaky breath, as he continued his ministrations, “Do anything, just don’t be gentle about it.”

He chuckled darkly, nudging his nose against your jaw, “Oh, baby, no. Of course not.” His breath fanned your neck before he pressed the lightest kiss to your skin, “I’m not going to make love to you, I’m not even going to fuck you.”

You whined, your brows pinching together as you shot him a pleading look, “Please.”

He cupped your jaw with his other hand, keeping your eyes on his as he smiled wickedly, “You’re still going to get my cock, baby, don’t worry. But this time- this time, I’m going to own you. Completely.” His eyes searched yours, “Got it?”

You whimpered, your mind already fuzzy from just him toying with you, but his words were sending your brain into a haze as you nodded as much as you could with him tightly holding your jaw.

“Use your words, Kitten. You never stop using that pretty mouth, so don’t stop now.”

Your eyes closed as he suddenly plunged two fingers into your core, easily hitting that spongy spot within you. “Fuck!” You moaned, digging your nails into his bicep. “Yes, baby. I’m yours, you know I’m always all yours.” You babbled, already feeling the not in your stomach tightening. “Use me, own me, do whatever you want to me.” You panted, throwing your head further into the mattress.

Minho’s eyes were glued to your face, watching you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as you moaned out his name like a prayer. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, and just from the way your hips were twitching, he knew you were already getting close. So he stopped. Pulling his fingers from you and from inside your pants before bringing them to his lips.

You whined, your head shooting up as you looked at him with slightly tear filled eyes, “No, please! I was so close, baby. Please, don’t stop.”

Minho just let out a low chuckle at you, before he grabbed the waistband on your pants, “I’m just getting started, baby. You don’t want it to be over already, do you?”

Your chest heaved in frustration as you stayed on your back, staring up at him as he pulled your sweats off, along with your panties, leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

If he thought you’d become some pliant little princess without some kind of backtalk, he was sadly mistaken, and didn’t know you as well as you thought he did.

You took a deep breath, trying to let your heart rate come down some more from your stolen orgasm, before you smirked up at him. “You can make me cum more than once, can’t you? You have before.”

He stopped unbuttoning his own pants and stared at you, slowly raising an eyebrow at your words. He nodded slowly a few times, his tongue poking out of his mouth, running it over his lips before he grinned at you, “Should’ve known you say some dumb shit.” He sighed affectionately, sliding his pants off finally, “I hope you know what you’ve just done, kitten. Because now I get to see how many times you can cum before you’re begging me to stop.”

You felt the excitement thrumming within you, mixing with the slight hesitancy as his words, watching him finish stripping down to nothing in front of you.

“Take it off.”

You met his eyes, “What?”

You watched his smirk widen when he realized that you’d been staring at the rest of him. “Your shirt.” He told you again, gesturing to it with just his eyes, “Take it off, or I’ll rip it off you myself.”

You swallowed thickly, reaching for the hem of it as you held his gaze, “Is that a promise?” You asked, your voice low as a playful smile tugged at your lips.

“Test me and find out.” He challenged you, a look in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine as you slowly dropped your hands back to the bed beside you.

“Rip it off then.”

He kept your gaze as he knelt back on the bed, settling in between your open legs, and slowly trailing his hands up your legs until he’d reached the tops of your thighs. “You really want to test the boundaries tonight, don’t you?” He asked, continuing to drag his hands up your body.

The shirt bunched up slightly under his hands as his hands met your ribcage, fingers splayed wide along your sides before he took both hands, and grabbed at the collar of the shirt and pulled. The sound of tearing fabric sent a jolt of excitement through your body, and you gasped when he let both sides of the destroyed shirt fall to your sides, leaving your chest bare below him to stare at.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment as his eyes roamed your body, before he caught your eyes again and smirked, “Let’s see how much you can take then, huh?”

#stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids mafia #stray kids lee know #skz lee minho x femreader #skz lee minho #skz fic #skz x reader #skz smut

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robogart · 2 years ago

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I'm playing botw again and I have to say that the voice acting really ruined any interest I might have had in the story - to me, the voice acting and memories portion (all those cutscenes) really detracted from the storytelling it could have had and thinking about it is boiling my onions again! More below @ w @;;

I've been going off on this to my friend (bless her patience) and at first I thought "I don't know if I like the story?" but then I realized that I would probably enjoy the story and characters if I got to read it instead of listening to the voice acting.

I know my opinion is largely influenced by playing lots of the older games, and I really enjoyed reading about the story here and there, and having a sort of "less is more" approach where there is So Much room to sort of inject your own thoughts and feelings into the stories and the characters.

It's too bad because objectively, Zelda's story is interesting in this game - a young girl struggling with her duty and responsibility, exasperated by being unable to access her power while the whole world is counting on her (this is great stuff) - but the way it is delivered (through all the cutscenes and the voice acting) makes me absolutely not care at all about it. I am so sad that I am so angry at how much I dislike Zelda in this game, which totally bums me out!! ; w ;

And it really has to do with just how they handled the story telling in this - which was a neat, different way to do it (and a lot of people really loved it, which is great)! But honestly I feel like not having ANY of the memory portions in the game (and no voice acting please) would have made it SO much more compelling and interesting. Letting your audience piece together the narrative of these champions that Link can't remember from the people that were left behind. It's SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING!

I think it's just the classic move where so much media treats their audience like they're idiots and nothing is FURTHER from the truth! The excitement of storytelling comes from leaving space for the audience's imagination! It helps enrich the soup! Stop clogging it with so many potatoes!! 😭👏✨✨✨

#text #botw #thoughts!

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eolewyn1010 · 6 months ago

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Charité, season 4 - episode 3

Here there be spoilers, and unasked-for snark.

Discount Daniel Sträßer in a skirt! I appreciate that someone is bringing in a little gender.

And an eeeeevil redhead whose behavior makes me think she's his ex. They were definitely social justice warriors together, so of course she has to be rude and pushy lest we forget that demonstrators are Not Nice People. This is growing tedious.

"I'm gonna treat him the way I think is right without your agreement" - Dylan is right; Maral is riding her boss hubris.

Oh no, not another "let me show you with these random objects I have at hand" simplified explanation. That was already so patronizing when Ella did it last season. Stop treating your audience like idiots! Especially on ground of an entirely unproven theory. I've never heard of this "integrate the bacterium into the biome" approach; sounds like potentially kicking off unpredictable changes in the body. I need a rl medic on this.

"Dylan tries to hinder my work" - no, Dylan offered the patient and his spouses an established therapy. You come up with wild speculations, that the patient's spouses turned down, not Dylan.

Can Seda and Maral just once talk to each other like normal people?

Watching people lying around with their eyeballs twitching under their lids. Is this Avatar?

So this woman is from the US, and they had her be a climate refugee? That is 1) not entirely logical because at least Saxony is canonically burning already, too, nevermind that Brandenburg has a lot of flammable area, and 2) cowardly of the writers. Lean into the dystopic possibilities of the next elections and make her a political refugee, goddammit!

Why did she push her treatment through when the family already turned it down? She knows she cannot treat him against consent. Buuut the plot gives her a free ticket anyway. Sure.

It feels ridiculous to listen to Emilia whine about lacking finances while she's sitting in an office the size of a ballroom, walls clad with shiny wood and huge windows to a nice garden.

"You should become a surgeon" - yeah, because if there is one thing the past seasons have taught us, it's that the only medical staff that matters is the doctors. Fuck nurses, amirite? Someone please shoot me.

If your big job project gets discontinued, try romance! What kind of logic is that? I hate it when "date a new person" is treated as the solution to a shitty life situation.

I have a pet peeve: Medical staff wearing their long hair loose on the job. Fucking put it up, you're in a hospital / lab!

...This promise sounds hollow, Maral.

Wait, Julia's sister lives in the US?? But she's speaking accent-free German? With both her sister and her son? And the surname? I thought they were from Germany.

The guy with the queerest vibes is the one the narrative makes look the shadiest. I feel so bad for Discount Daniel Sträßer it makes me almost use his actual name, but I don't want to to kill my running gag.

Thank heaven for Nils; without him being kind and caring to his daughter-in-law, I'd be so sick of this family's dynamics.

Hey, finally some natural-looking affection between Maral and Julia! So of course Maral has to ruin the moment. "Everything is about meeeeee!"

The promise was empty. Great way to treat your co-workers, Maral. Why is she so arrogant?

Consequences for misconduct? It's more likely than you- Yeah, no, let's see how long that lasts.

So this is my turning point for Maral's character. Now she's getting on my nerves way more than I like her. And the episode overall leaves me disgruntled. Why is everyone so unpleasant?

#Charité #Charité 2049 #personal opinions

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askthe4thwallbreakers · 1 year ago

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heyy, I read the pinned post and I didn't see that it's not allowed to ask the creator, so regards.

I wanted to ask about how Fourth-Wall Breakers are characterized. i mean, i remember how Warren in his episode literally "pauses" it and speaks to the audience, he speaks to us. So, would he also be a Fourth-Wall Breaker? and I also ask about the characters who look at the screen, who look at us.

sorry if it's very inquisitive and it turns out to be annoying, you can answer with a simple "it's a fanfic stop screwing around " and I'll understand🫶🫶

very good fanfic and I hope you have a good life‼️‼️🌟🌟

oh yeah you're perfectly allowed to ask me stuff (at least somewhat related to this fic) through the askbox.

and dw your ask wasn't annoying in the slightest, this is something I've been thinking about for a while. please keep screwing around, look as far into it as you like, even for stuff I might not have intended. If I was someone who says "it's not that deep" to everything, this fic wouldn't exist.

so. I think the fic title is a little bit misleading on my part (and I don't just mean the word 'support' when the characters are getting none of that). Fourth-wall breaking refers to pretty much ANY form of self-awareness for fictional characters, of course. Like Deadpool, or Wander - even George and Harold from the goddamn Captain Underpants books count as fourth-wall breakers by definition, those books are stuffed with meta jokes and genre awareness. But there's the rub - in all those examples, the fourth-wall breaking is intended as a joke.

"This has been going on for an entire season-" *looks at audience* "-of our lives."

"We were supposed to do this four chapters ago!"

"You really can fix anything with a montage." (spoken right after a montage of characters solving a problem)

All those are clearly intended as nothing more than jokes. Warren is a slightly different example, but he still falls into this category. He's supposed to be a caricature of bad PSAs and anti-bullying instructors and influencers and whatnot, and him talking directly to the audience is part of that.

Monika, Wally, Rob, and to a lesser extent Yellow, on the other hand, all have a vital part of their character tied to their self-awareness. It's essentially 'crack' versus 'crack treated seriously'. The fourth wall breaking may have started off as a joke, sure, but if you - or the characters - stop and think about the implications of them KNOWING that they're fictional, it's horrifying no matter which way you look at it. Rob specifically is an interesting case because The Amazing World Of Gumball ALSO does fourth-wall breaking as a joke. And Rob's arc is far from the only time it's taken seriously. Just look at 'The Signal', one of the most horrifying episodes in the entire show to the point where I am astonished it's not talked about more.

Anyway, TL;DR - the four idiots whom this fic centres around are set apart from your average fourth-wall breaker by one single thing. They thought about the implications.

#yknow given the ending of tgwdlm #emma could definitely be counted as a fourth wall breaker #t4wbsg #the fourth wall breakers support group #meta ask

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simp4men · 2 years ago

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Hold Me Down part 3

Part 2

Jack was getting ready to go on The Late Night Show with Jimmy Fallon. This was his first time ever doing a talk show interview so he was kind of nervous. Jack was pacing the dressing room as a way to calm himself down.

“Jack, you're gonna be fine, stop pacing. Just be yourself and everyone will love you.” you say looking at him

“Your right, you know you’re the only person who knows I get nervous before these types of things.” he says

“I know, you hide it so well under you cocky personality” you laugh

“Not funny, Y/N. Now come here and give me a hug before I have to go out there” he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you up from the couch to wrap his arms around your waist hugging you tightly. You melt into him instantly. You really admired this side of Jack. His soft side really came out with you and he would deny it if anyone ever mentioned it but he really relied on you completely to get him through any type of appearance he had to do.

“You're gonna kill it Jack, as always. You always do, and I'll be watching from the dressing room.” you whisper into his neck while his hands are still tightly secured around your waist.

“Thank you, pretty girl” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“Ok now let me go, you have to go on now.” you say pushing him off of you.

Jack finally makes it to the stage where he meets Jimmy and sits down on the couch. They start talking and chatting away. Then it comes time to show some videos. They start playing the video of Jack getting interviewed by Emma at the Met Gala.

“What is that, is that like the Harlow effect? You're like the internet's boyfriend right now every girl is in love with you.” Jimmy says

“Not every girl, my assistant likes to remind me of how much of an idiot I am and puts me in my place, everyday.” he smirks

“Really, wow so she hasn’t fallen for you yet” Jimmy laughs alongside the audience

Jack shakes his head no and smiles. Then they start playing the video of the referees not knowing who Jack was.

“Yeah there's a portion of this crowd that knows I get compared to that half goat from Narnia” he laughs

“Where did that even come about” Jimmy asks

“We have the same sort of thing going right here” he gestures to his beard. “My assistant actually was obsessed with the movie Narnia and actually was the one who called it out. One day she just told me, she was like Jack you know what, you look like the goat guy from Narnia” he laughs

“Omg I love that, I love that” Jimmy laughs

“So Jack, this new single you just dropped, what’s it about?” Jimmy asks

“There’s really no meaning about it. I just wanted to reference a girl and mention that I wanted more out of our relationship.” Jack says smugly

“Ok, so I have read some fan theories and people are saying that it’s about your assistant, is that true” Jimmy asks

“Maybe” Jack shrugs smirking

“So it is, does she know it’s about her?” Jimmy asks

“Yeah, she heard the song she was so confused, she was like what the hell.” he laughs

“Omg i love that, she seems like such a cool person” Jimmy says

Jack nods, “She’s actually here, she’s backstage in my dressing room watching right now” he says

Jimmy looks at the camera and waves. Finally Jack is done with his interview and gets ready to perform first class. You were waiting back in his dressing room laying on the couch when Jack comes in after performing, and lays on top of you hugging you close to his body.

“Jack, great job, but please get off you weigh like a hundred tons” you sigh nudging him

“Ughh fine, your lucky I love you and don’t get offended by that” he says putting his hand to his heart

You just laugh, “I love you too stink”

Truth be told, Jack seriously was in love with you. He respected you and admired you immensely. He loved that you were like the only girl that didn’t fall to his feet. You treated him like a regular guy and the fact that you were not interested in him like that made him fall even harder for you.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years ago

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Of Kings and Beasts - Twelve

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Smut (almost?), Injuries, Violence,

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

Your eyes slowly flutter open, your head throbbing and body aching.

The events prior to your collapse come flooding into your mind and you’re suddenly filled with anxiety.

You push yourself up, wincing as ropes bite into your wrists and a gag scratches the corners of your mouth

You’re bound on a bed, still wearing your cape and gown.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up... if I had been a little too rough with you,” a silky voice says.

You look over to the source, glaring at the man by the window.

Loki only smiles at you, slowly walking towards you.

“You’re far smarter than anyone gives you credit for, do you know that? The Kings think you to be nothing more than a delicate princess, but we both know that’s not true. You had to find your way, make your way. You’ve gone to great lengths just to survive. And that’s where you and I are similar.”

Two long, cold fingers are under your chin, tilting your head back.

“You’re so much more than they think. But they won’t get to know that, will they?” Your eyes widen and you shimmy back, terrified for your life.

The man only laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m not going to kill you, petal. Not yet, anyway. But I cannot say the same for your husbands.” You make a noise through your gag, wanting to only ask him one question.

“You want to know why?” He asks, waiting until you nod before answering.

“Because I have lived in the shadows for far too long. That is something that you and I have in common. We’ve both blossomed in the shadows of other people. But for no longer. It is time for me to take my rightful place as King. King of Asgard. King of Acadia. They will be one under my rule.” Your brows draw together. He means to overthrow not one but two of the strongest kingdoms on the continent.

He opens his mouth to further his explanation, but the door opens and a certain blond-haired beast walks in.

“Ah, yes. I was about to come fetch you,” Loki says, looking over at you and shooting you a wink. You’re still so confused.

“Now, you have your fun with your new wife, while I go divert the attention of her husbands,” Loki says, taking a step back. His appearance changes before your very eyes, and then you’re staring at yourself.

Your lips smile at you, and then your body is walking out of the King’s chambers and closing the door tightly behind.

Thor seems to pay his shape-shifting brother no mind and is instead entirely focused on you.

He slowly approaches the bed, hands extended towards you and you flinch away.

A frown graces his features and he shakes his head, pulling the gag from your mouth.

“I had asked him not to be so rough with you, but he insisted it was necessary. I do hope you’ll forgive me, my love.” You’re taken aback by the name, staring at him in shock.

He chuckles, the sound almost nervous.

“I suppose I should explain myself.” You wait a little less than patiently as the King gathers his thoughts, his eyes darting to you ever now and again.

“You... you are intriguing. You’ve bewitched me, as I said. Captured both my attention and my heart with only a few moments.”

“What in the name of the Gods are you speaking of?” You’re so bloody confused.

“When I first stumbled upon you, I had hoped that you were not in fact the queen. That instead, you were a mere maiden in the Palace. But even finding that you are wed to two of my dear friends... why, it wasn’t enough to stop me from falling for you.” He takes your bound hands in his, thumbs rubbing over your palms. It makes you feel sick to your stomach, and you wrench yourself out of his grip.

“You will not touch me! Not after what you’ve done.” A thought bubbles into your mind and you look up at him. “Loki had called me your new wife... what on Earth does he mean by that?” Thor grins, two fingers stroking your cheek gently while he gazes at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You are to be my wife, (Y/n). And I swear to you that I shall treat you with the respect and the love that you deserve. Your current husbands should be killed for the way they have treated something as delicate as you.” You glare at him, jerking your face away.

“You will not speak of my husbands in such a manner. Your actions are treasonous, and you will bring war upon your kingdom. Why would you do that for me? Why overthrow their kingdom? The greed of men never ceases to disgust me.” He furrows his brows, him being the confused one this time.

“Why would I not go to the ends of the Earth for the woman I love? You have carved a way into my heart, darling, and I would both die for you and kill for you.”

You shake your head vigorously, wanting to cease his speaking.

“How can you claim to love me when you do not even truly know me? You know nothing of me, besides whatever you have created from your own imagination. You do not love me, Thor. Do not try to convince yourself or me that you do.”

He grips your face roughly, eyes alight with fire.

“Do not for a moment think that I am not in love with you.” His voice is booming, frightening even, and for a moment you shrink in on yourself, reduced to that terrified young princess yet again.

He takes a deep breath then lets it out, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I did not mean to frighten you, my love, I just... I love you and I need you to know it, to accept it. You are to be my wife. My queen, and the mother of my children. I know it is not something you are keen on, only due to your loyalty to your first marriage, but that will be fixed over time, I promise. You need only give me a chance. A chance to show you how it feels to truly be loved.”

There's something off about him, his eyes, his smile. But you cannot deny the fact that his offer is tempting. A chance to not live in fear? To be treated with respect and love? It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more.

But you cannot simply give up on your husbands, can you?

~*~

“There you are! We were beginning to get worried!” James exclaims, taking your hand and ushering you into the room.

Steve watches curiously, something about you seeming off to him.

“I was engaged with Loki, I do apologize for taking so long.” You sit down on the bed, hand reaching for Steve’s.

Something’s not right.

You’ve been quite receptive to their physical touches, but this doesn’t feel right.

Instead of saying anything, the King keeps quiet and plasters a smile onto his face.

“You’re safe here, darling. You need not cut your conversations short for us.” You smile up at him then look over to the note on the bedside table.

“Have you had any luck?” The two shake their heads, wishing they were closer to figuring out who the threat is.

“What can you remember about receiving the letter? The time, if anybody was around?” James watches as your brows furrow, trying to recall anything that may be of use.

“Nothing stands out... although... Thor was quite adamant about bringing me here instead of back to you. I thought that a little strange but at the time I did not question it. And... there was an incident the other night.” Steve’s hand finds your lower back, urging you to continue.

“He made advances... declared his love for me. He later apologized for it, but the entire event has put me on edge.” The two Kings exchange glances at this new information, the brunet ready to go find Thor and give him a piece of his mind.

“Please do not be angry. I’m sure he meant nothing by it, and I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble.” James shushes you, taking a seat on the bed beside you.

“You won’t cause any trouble. If this issue bothers you, then it must be brought up. We will have words with Thor.” You nod, the corners of your mouth turning up in a small but sinister grin.

~*~

The door to the chambers you’ve been trapped in opens, and the trickster walks in with a gleaming smile on his face.

“What have you done now?” You demand, tugging against your bonds.

He only chuckles, walking past you to the small tray of food on the bedside table.

“Oh, I’ve done nothing. It’s what you’ve done that will be the downfall of the two great kingdoms.” You shake your head at him, wanting to know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Right as we speak, you’re confessing to the Kings just how much my idiot brother loves you, how much he longs to be with you and how he would do anything for you. And we both know how much of a temper your husbands have, especially when it comes to you. So it is only a matter of time before they become defensive and seek him out.”

“Wait, Thor is unaware of your plot?” The man laughs, a full belly laugh from deep in his core at your question.

“Oh, Gods no! He is nothing more than a pawn in a far bigger plan than he realizes. His simple mind was far too easy to take, and his initial protection over you was easy to nurture into an infatuation and an unhealthy obsession.” He looks over at you, a smile on his face.

“And you, my dear, are going to be my greatest piece yet. His obsession will be not only the downfall of the Kingdoms, but also of you. He will be your undoing. Because in his mind, if he cannot have you, then nobody else can.” He straightens up and walks over to the wardrobe, pulling off his cloak and hanging it up.

“It’s unfortunate, really, because you are quite beautiful. Beauty is something that shouldn’t be wasted. But I suppose they’ll write sonnets and ballads about how ‘your beauty was what brought the kingdoms to ash’.” You struggle against your bonds, wanting nothing more than to take the knife strapped to your thigh and slash his throat with it.

“You will never get away with this! The Kings are far too smart. They’ll see right through your disguises.” He chuckles and turns to you, arms crossed over his chest.

“There’s a magic in this world, girl. One that you could not even begin to understand. The Kings are nothing more than mortal men. They will succumb to the powers I wield and they will burn, with you alongside them.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes raking over your face.

“But perhaps I need to have my own turn with you. Experience you both inside and out.” You shiver in disgust, pushing yourself as far back on the bed as you can.

The door creaks and the two of you look to the sound, the trickster backing up a step before vanishing into thin air, leaving you alone with the newcomer.

“I do hope you'll pardon my absence,” Thor says timidly, raking a hand through his hair and shutting the door behind himself.

“I had hoped to spend more time with you, however the duties of a King need to be fulfilled.” You say nothing, Loki’s words ringing over and over again in your ears.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t realize he’s climbed onto the bed until his large hands are pushing your knees apart.

“W-wait no!” An idea bubbles into your mind and you speak before you have time to second-guess yourself.

“If you truly wish for me to enjoy our time together, you must release me from my bonds! Do not take me the way the other Kings have. Please. You say you love me, then release me so that I too may enjoy it.” His face softens and he nods, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before reaching around your back to yank the rope off of you.

“It was never my intention to bind you, sweet flower. But Loki insisted. He said that you couldn’t be trusted and I... I believed him. Please forgive me, my love.” He takes your hands in his so gently, so much love and affection behind his actions, and you find yourself feeling sorry for the man.

Beneath the pity is an anger. Anger at Loki for putting not only Thor through this, but for tormenting you with the knowledge that his love is not real. Nothing more than a facade.

“Thor... how much do you trust your brother?” The blond looks confused by the question and takes a moment to ponder it before answering.

“I... well... Loki and I have not always seen eye to eye. But within the past few months he has come around and been more present. All I’ve ever wanted was for my brother to feel at home in his kingdom. He believes himself to be shunned, an outcast, but he is my brother and I love him dearly. It pains me to see him shut himself away, but now he’s opening back up. And I do think that there is hope for us yet.” Your heart cracks at this.

“But enough about him. This should be about us. You and me, my dear.” His lips are then on your neck, hips pushing between your thighs and big body holding you down against the mattress.

Once again, you find yourself pinned beneath a man with no hope of escaping.

Well... almost no hope.

You swallow back the bile in your throat and seek out his lips, kissing him fiercely while your hands grasp at his shoulders.

He pulls away after a moment, yanking his tunic above his head and grinning down at you.

“Eager, are we?” You nod, fingers trailing over his sculpted torso.

He is a beautiful specimen, and it pains you to do what you’re doing.

“My King,” you whisper, back arching as he kisses over your neck once again. He hums, waiting for you to speak.

“May I ride you?” The words are whispered, barely breathed in the warm air of the room, but they elicit a growl from the man above you.

Your positions are flipped in an instant, you straddling the blond man while he lays comfortably below you.

His hands find your hips while your own shaky fingers pull his manhood from his trousers.

A groan leaves his lips at the feeling of your soft hands against his hot length, and your eyes flash up to his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and in that moment you realize it’s now or never.

One hand stays on his length, stroking gently, while the other reaches to the dagger strapped on your inner thigh.

You don’t need to kill him, only to incapacitate him long enough for you to escape.

Disguising the motion as you simply moving your skirts out of the way, you grind your teeth together and squeeze your eyes shut.

The blade is raised high above your head, and then with all your might, you slam it down into his abdomen.

He lurches forward, eyes popping open in shock as you yank the blade back out and stumble off the bed.

His face contorts with first confusion, then betrayal, and pain following.

“Why?” His voice is a broken whisper, but you don’t dwell on it. Instead, you rise to your feet and sprint out of his chambers, bloody knife still held tightly in your grasp.

You can hear him behind you, grunting with pain as he moves through his chambers then stumbles through the doorway, but you’re already far enough ahead to create a scene if need be.

You cut through the gardens, grabbing your skirts and hiking them up above your knees to give you more room to run.

Your shoulder connects with the familiar door of safety, and you stumble inside, shaking hands dropping both your skirts and the blade onto the floor.

“(Y/n)?!” James and Steve rush over to you quickly, inspecting your body for any wounds.

“I-It’s Thor! And Loki! Loki’s behind all of it and he has Thor trapped under a curse of some kind! I do not know what he has told you, but he was posing as me and you must believe me!” You’re near hysterical, knowing that if they don’t believe you then you’ll be sent straight back into the hands of the King.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“Loki is a sorcerer. A powerful one. H-he posed as me and no doubt came to the two of you. I can only imagine the lies he spewed. He means to overthrow the kingdoms and he has Thor under-” The door gets pushed open, the man in question looking around frantically until his eyes fall upon your figure.

“Ah, there you are. You needn’t be afraid, my love. I know it was only an accident.” He’s got one of his hands pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other reaching out for you.

“No!” You cry, near ready to pull your hair out.

James pushes you behind his back, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the King.

“You will not take another step, do you understand? We can discuss this like men, not fight about it like boys.” Thor blinks a few times, eyes darting between you and your husbands.

“Very well.” He straightens up, face perfectly political.

“I would like you to hand over my wife, or I will kill her where she stands. If I cannot have her, then nobody can.”

370 notes · View notes

xjoonchildx · 4 years ago

Text

guilty | knj x reader | final chapter: is something burning?

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, SMUT WARNINGS APPLY in this chapter sorry i’m yelling stressed!joon, sweaty!joon, sober!joon all make an appearance

rating: 18+

word count: 7.9K

notes: okay, so i stressed a bit about this chapter. i got really in my head over it, but i hope it ends in a way that’s satisfying to all of you guys. i’ve heard from some of the most amazing readers about this story -- i appreciate you all so much and i’d love to hear from you about how you feel about the ending.

special love to the best beta hands down periodt amen @hobi-gif, the lady who inspired it all with her adorable brand of namjoon thirst @sahmfanficbts, and three people who mean the world to me point blank period @ladyartemesia @ppersonna @taetaewonderland

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

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

There’s this thing that happens when you’re getting over a cold.

Slowly -- as your breathing returns to normal -- you can taste again. Your head clears and your senses come back to life and you savor everything you eat like it’s the best thing you’ve ever had. Your appetite returns.

And all at once, you are starving.

That’s what it’s like after Namjoon touches you.

All he had to do was cup your face in one large, warm hand and it feels like your entire body has been jump-started. Like parts of you that have been dormant for years are now awake, nerve endings exposed and aching. Like all the tiny pieces of you that have been scattered and lost for so long are now found and fitting back together.

For the first time in a long time you remember what it feels like to want.

It’s not like you didn’t know you cared for Namjoon. You knew it deep down in the way you took pride in providing for his needs. You knew it in the way it made you feel to see appreciation reflected back in his dark eyes.

But you didn’t understand how much you wanted him until that night in his office.

In those few charged moments, Namjoon made you feel more desired with his gaze than other men have with their hands. You let down your guard and allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to touch him, to be touched by him. You let yourself embrace the fantasy of being his in every way.

And then it was over.

Whatever spell he was under was broken and whatever existed in the air between you evaporated. The hunger in his eyes turned into remorse and you’d left his office on trembling legs, reeling from the whiplash of it all.

Today, you stare out at the window across from your desk, unable to suppress the hurt that grips your chest. You can barely concentrate on the numbers on the sheet in front of you, mind replaying the events in that office.

Namjoon should never have touched you.

He should never have roused the parts of you that had been long forgotten between doctors visits and pharmacy runs. He should never have made you feel things no other man ever has or probably ever will.

And he should have never let you believe, even for one second, that he could care for you the way you do for him.

He should have just left you alone.

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

No one ever tells you that when you devote your life to caring for someone else’s needs, yours end up falling by the wayside. That who you are ends up diminished somehow, buried underneath the weight of responsibility and worry.

Jinjoo finds you sitting in the chair next to your mother’s bed, staring at one lock of hair threaded through your fingers. You’re frowning at the split ends you’ve not had a chance to tend to, the ones you hide by keeping your hair pulled back.

She sweeps into the room, carrying a bowl of kimchi.

“It’s Saturday. The sun is shining and you should go out. Maybe to the salon, hmm?”

You glance up just as she’s placing the food on a tray at the foot of your mother’s bed. She smiles to soften the blow of her observation and you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at her well-meaning meddling. It’s nice to be fussed over for a change.

“I can’t even remember the last time I went to the salon,” you admit, eyes locking on an unsightly chip in your nail polish. “I usually end up cutting it myself.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Jinjoo scolds, hands on hips. “Today I want you to go out and do something just for you. Go and get the works. You’re far too young to be stuck in this house all the time.”

You consider her offer for a moment. Here in the quiet of your mother’s room it’s far too easy to let your mind wander back to the encounter with Namjoon. Far too easy to dwell on the ache that surfaces every time you remember.

“Go on, Ttal.”

You turn in the direction of your mother’s voice and find her stirring from her nap. She places one soft hand over yours and squeezes. “She’s right. Go take some time away. I’ll be fine here with Jinjoo.”

“See?” Jinjoo waves a hand to shoo you out of the chair. You stand and she immediately takes your place in the seat. “Your mother agrees. Now go. And buy something pretty to wear while you’re at it.”

You look from her to your mother and see both women wearing matching expressions of encouragement.

You decide they’re right.

So you spend the rest of your day pampering yourself and shopping and definitely not thinking about Kim Namjoon.

You don’t think about him when you read the book he recommended to you once at the salon, you don’t think about him when you stop for a bite at his favorite Tteokbokki stand and you definitely don’t think about him when you buy a new sweater that makes you feel beautiful.

You definitely don’t think about him at all.

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

NAMJOON

Kim Namjoon’s father was a pig.

A glutton of the worst kind, he hoarded money and guns and drugs and because no one ever tried to stop him. He used and abused everything and everyone just because he could.

Namjoon hated to watch the sadistic games his father played with people. He hated that the man seemed to direct the worst of his cruelty at the women in his life.

Namjoon’s own sister left everything behind to escape his violence and abuse and somehow his father was even more vicious with the women he bedded and discarded at random. He dangled things like money and security and love in front of them like bait, only to yank it all away on a whim.

That’s why Namjoon has worked so hard his entire life to prove to others -- to prove to himself -- that he’s better than the piece of shit who raised him.

That’s why the look on your face in his office that night cut so deep.

That look pierced straight through the lust and the scotch clouding his judgement and forced him to step back and see the situation for what it was. It made him feel sick to think he might have made you feel like his help came with conditions. That he’d done what he had expecting you to give yourself to him in return.

He couldn’t allow you to think he’d use his money to try and buy you. That’s something his father would have done.

And Kim Namjoon is not his fucking father.

So this morning he finds himself walking towards your desk, determined to make it right. You don’t register his approach as you work quietly and Namjoon has a quick moment to take you in.

There’s something different about you.

Namjoon can’t put his finger on it, but when he gets close enough for you to notice his presence and you glance up at him from under those long lashes, you look changed somehow.

Rested. Radiant.

The second you register that it’s him though, the look on your face changes. You stand up from your chair, expression shuttered, tone formal.

“Mister Kim,” you murmur. “How can I help you this morning?”

“Please sit,” Namjoon starts quietly. “I, uh --” He digs his nails into his palm, annoyed with the hesitation in his delivery. Spit it out, you moron.

“-- I owe you an apology.”

Your lips part in surprise before you close your mouth, sinking slowly back into your chair.

Namjoon rubs one hand across the back of his neck, stealing a sideways glance at Seokjin’s office door. It remains closed and he’s glad for it. The last thing he’d want is an audience for this embarrassing exchange.

“The other night I was --” he clears his throat awkwardly. Loaded. Horny. Stupid.

He eventually lands on a less damning adjective. “-- not entirely appropriate with you.”

You blink back but keep quiet so Namjoon keeps talking.

“I shouldn’t have acted that way,” he acknowledges weakly. “That’s not normally how I treat my employees. And I’m sorry.”

Spots of color appear in your cheeks.

“Well as your employee, I admit it wasn’t appropriate for me to just turn up in your office without notice, either,” you reply quietly. “I think I was just shocked by your generosity. It’s a lot of money, and I --”

“-- Don’t think anything of it,” Namjoon interjects quickly. “You’ve saved me that amount and more with your audits. It only made sense to repay you for your efforts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Namjoon knows it immediately. It’s not the truth -- not by a mile -- and judging by the look that passes over your face, it’s definitely not what you wanted to hear.

“Mister Kim.”

“Yes?” Namjoon replies, only to realize that you are now looking past him and that he’s not the only one answering.

He turns slowly to find Seokjin standing behind him, wearing an expression halfway between curiosity and scrutiny. Namjoon’s nails dig back into his palms, leaving tiny indents in the skin.

“Good morning,” you continue, turning your attention fully to Seokjin. Seokjin looks between you and Namjoon before answering.

“Good morning to you, too,” he says slowly.

“If you’re ready to go over the new audits, I have more information to cover with you,” you say, pointing at the papers riddled with notes on your desk. Namjoon stands there like an idiot, watching the two of you interact like he’s not even there.

“Sure,” Seokjin agrees, eyes darting back to Namjoon. “Let’s go ahead and get into the numbers.”

“Great,” you say with a smile, standing to organize your papers into a folder.

You look back at Namjoon like he’s an afterthought and the realization stings. “If that was all you needed, I’ve got some work to handle now.”

The nails in his palm are this close to drawing blood.

He cuts his eyes at Seokjin who immediately looks away.

“Certainly,” he says under his breath. “Let me not keep you.”

You turn your back on him to head into Seokjin’s office.

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

Namjoon stares out at the setting sun from his office window.

He’s spent the last few days hiding out in here, avoiding everything and everyone. Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin -- his phone keeps lighting up with calls he won’t answer. His already black mood darkens every time his mind replays the seemingly endless string of disastrous exchanges with you.

He still can’t figure out how he’s managed to fuck things up so royally.

He still can’t figure out why he didn’t just tell you the truth about the money and about Jinjoo. He should have just admitted outright that for once he wanted to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. He should have just admitted that you mean something to him.

That’s the real reason why things are so screwed up right now.

It would be so simple if this was just about sex. It would be so simple if Namjoon could just get you into bed and get you out of his system. But you’re not Mina or Yejin or any of the others.

You’re not like any woman he’s ever known.

Namjoon leans back into his chair just as his cell phone lights again and he grabs it just long enough to reject the call before tossing it back onto his desk. He rubs his fingers across his mouth and watches the sun fall behind the nearby skyscrapers.

You deserve so much more than he is capable of giving you.

You deserve happiness and security and certainty. What you don’t deserve is to be toyed with by a man who doesn’t know what his future looks like. A man who’s still so damaged by his own upbringing that he worries he’ll never be capable of being a decent husband and father.

Truthfully, Namjoon doesn’t know which scenario scares him more.

The one where he tries -- and fails -- to give you the things you need, or the one where he drifts through the rest of his life anchored to no one and nothing.

The sound of an incoming text interrupts his maudlin thoughts.

Namjoon reaches for his phone and sighs as he reads the waiting message.

reservations at doore yoo, 8 PM [ 6:32 PM ]

join me [ 6:32 PM ]

it’s been too long [ 6:33 PM ]

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

“Mister Kim.”

The Maitre’d at Doore Yoo bows in Namjoon’s direction, flashing a wide smile. “A pleasure to have you back.”

“Thank you Sungho,” Namjoon murmurs, scanning the crowded dining room. “Is she waiting for me?”

“She is,” Sungho confirms.

Namjoon follows him past the tables packed with patrons to the exclusive dining area hidden away in the back. This is his regular table, inside his regular private room -- but when Sungho slides the door open, Namjoon stops short and nearly tells the man he’s made a mistake.

The young woman waiting for him inside is unrecognizable.

From the back, Namjoon can see that her dark hair has been swept into a careful updo, shoulders and skin bared in a delicate spaghetti-strap top. But that can’t be right.

Because she would never --

“Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon’s sister lifts her chin and smiles as he steps around the table.

He catches himself staring, momentarily thrown by the sight in front of him. It’s the first time in his life he can recall seeing his sister wearing something that doesn’t cover the jagged scar that crosses her collarbone. The scar that she’s spent a lifetime hiding, ashamed of the way it made her look and feel. At once, the realization hits him -- the hundreds of different ways she’s changed, big and small since falling in love with Hoseok.

Every last one of them for the better.

“Amsaja, you look -- ” Namjoon pauses to brush a kiss across her cheek, “ -- wonderful.”

She flushes.

“Thank you. Now sit,” she orders kindly, reaching for her wine glass. “For a minute there I thought you might not show.”

Namjoon exhales, sinking into his seat.

“For a minute there, I almost didn’t,” he admits. “It’s been a shitty week.”

His sister says nothing, smiling like a sphinx as a server appears to offer Namjoon his own drink.

“Club soda on ice,” Namjoon orders quietly. “Thanks.”

Her poker face slips then, one eyebrow lifting in surprise at seeing him forgo his usual scotch. She sips her wine thoughtfully before speaking.

“Talk to me, Namjoon.”

“There’s little to talk about,” he deflects irritably, staring past her to the art on the walls.

“Hoseok says you’ve barely left your office. Won’t take his calls.”

Namjoon grits his teeth, hackles raising immediately.

“Tell Hoseok he should work on his pillow talk,” he says sharply, and the second the words leave his mouth he regrets them. Namjoon sees the change in his sister’s demeanor, watches her eyes sharpen from across the table.

“Forgive me,” he apologizes quickly. “That was uncalled for. I’m fucking things up left and right these days, it seems.”

His sister stares back at him. Namjoon knows that face, knows she’s now opted to abandon her charm offensive for a more direct approach. He knows it’s exactly what he deserves for being an asshole.

“That’s my understanding, yes,” she says tightly. “As smart as you are, you seem to be doing some very stupid shit lately.”

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, cheeks warming at her rebuke.

“You’re right,” he admits. “But I’m going to need you to be more specific about which stupid shit you want to talk about tonight.”

“Don’t be dense,” his sister scolds. “Clearly, you’re tied up in knots over your assistant. Oh, I’m sorry -- I mean former assistant.”

Namjoon’s defeated sigh hangs in the air for a moment.

“Is that what Hoseok says?”

“That’s what everyone says,” his sister fires back. “You think you’re such a mystery but I assure you, you’re actually quite transparent. Sending her away to work for Seokjin? Hiring a private nurse? Good grief, Namjoon. Real subtle.”

Shit, he wishes he had a scotch right now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to explain to me why you’re playing this stupid game of push and pull with this woman. If you care about her, do something about it instead of lashing out at everyone around you because you’re angry with yourself.”

“She’s not --” Namjoon falters as he searches for a proper explanation, “-- she has a complicated life right now. I’m just trying to help her the only way I know how.”

His sister leans back in her chair, wine glass tipped in his direction.

“You know what I think? I think you like her too much and I think that’s freaking you out. And I think you’re going to miss out on a good thing because you won’t get your head out of your ass.”

Namjoon stares back at his sister.

“I think you might be right,” he concedes, after a heavy silence.

“Namjoon, I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” his sister says quietly. “Whatever you’re feeling, she’s feeling it too.”

He knows that’s true. It’s been damned near impossible not to feel the charged air between you, impossible not to share passing looks and fleeting touches while working in such close quarters. When he looks at you he knows instinctively that you feel the same pull. It’s only made his precarious position that much harder.

“I just --” he shakes his head as he tries to justify his inaction, “-- I have no idea what I’m offering her. I don’t know what I’m capable of giving her. Beyond money, of course.”

His sister laughs.

Namjoon waits for her to collect herself, ears warm with embarrassment. He resists the childish impulse to kick her under the table.

“Is that funny to you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” she teases. “You have no idea what you have to offer her? You’re one of the most powerful men in this city, Namjoon. There’s nothing you couldn’t offer her.”

The server arrives with dumplings and sets them in the middle of the table, and his sister reaches for one.

“If she’s this important to you, I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her,” she continues. “Stop overthinking this. You’re a good man. Everything else is icing on the cake.”

“I haven’t acted like a good man lately,” he confesses, shaking his head. “She came to my office a few nights ago and I acted like a drunk, groping asshole. Like father, like son.”

His sister sets her wine glass down, hard.

“You’re nothing like our father, Namjoon,” she says, eyes flashing with anger. “Quit telling yourself you don’t deserve happiness out of some misguided, misplaced guilt. And whatever happened in that office can be fixed. If you want to fix it.”

Namjoon watches the bubbles in his club soda surface and break. He does want to fix it. He wants to figure out a way to stop fucking everything up where you’re concerned.

“I do,” he admits.

“Have you apologized?”

“Awkwardly. Not sure that it helped my case.”

“Then I think you need to offer her the one thing that’s more valuable than your money, Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow at his sister.

“What’s that?”

She plucks a dumpling off the plate with her chopsticks and points it at him.

“Give her your time.”

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

YOU

It’s freezing tonight.

You wrap your arms around yourself and brace against the biting wind as you approach your family home. You’re dead on your feet, worn after a long day at the office -- and for the thousandth time since her arrival you silently give thanks for Jinjoo.

Knowing your mother is taken care of while you’re gone and coming back to a clean home and warm meals has eased your burdens immeasurably.

Of course, it’s all really thanks to Kim Namjoon -- but that’s something you’re not allowing your mind to dwell on right now. You’ve worked hard over the past few days to push any thought of that man back to the furthest recesses of your mind.

You’re peeling out of your scarf and coat in the foyer when a laugh echoes down the long hallway. It’s the sound of your mother’s laugh -- clear in a way you haven’t heard in a very long time -- and it’s definitely not coming from her room.

“Eomma?” you call out as you walk towards the sound. A peal of Jinjoo’s laughter rings out next and you smile, following it.

You round the corner to the living room and your mouth drops open when you spot your mother, fully dressed for the first time in ages, sitting on the formal couch. Jinjoo is seated next to her, both women smiling and laughing at --

Oh God.

Namjoon stands from his seat on the opposite couch when your eyes meet his. His cheeks are pinked from the cold, hair tousled from the wind, and he looks so handsome that for a moment you forget how to think.

“Welcome home,” he says, dimples emerging from his slow, careful smile.

You stare back at him, rooted to the spot. Your face warms when you realize that every single eye in the room is trained on you, awaiting your next move.

“Do you -- ” Namjoon clears his throat, “ -- do you think I could have a minute of your time?”

“What are you doing here?” you say, blowing right past his question.

Jinjoo makes a disapproving sound under her breath.

“Ttal,” your mother interjects with a tone that borders very close to warning, “Mister Kim came by to talk to you. He kept the two of us company until you came home.”

You turn to look at her and -- is she wearing lipstick?

“Yes,” Namjoon adds quickly, turning the warmth of his smile back to your mother and Jinjoo. “And they’ve been wonderful company. Thank you, ladies.”

The two of them titter like schoolgirls enjoying the attention of the most popular boy in school while you just stare.

And stare.

“Ttal?”

Your mother’s voice breaks through your mental fog. You look back at her and Jinjoo and both women appear to be holding their breath, awaiting your response. Jinjoo’s eyes are pleading when they meet yours, silently begging you to play nice.

You turn back to Namjoon slowly.

“One minute.”

“Great,” he breathes, shoving a hand through his hair.

“Not here.”

The words come out more sharply than you’d intended and your mother’s eyes go wide. Jinjoo sighs.

“What I mean to say,” you start again, delivery clumsy, “Is that we should probably step outside.”

“Of course,” Namjoon agrees.

You will your leaden legs and feet to cooperate as you turn to leave, grabbing your coat from the foyer closet on the way. You slip it on and lead Namjoon out to the front porch, immediately wincing at the bitter cold that greets you.

The door clicks shut and you burrow deep into your coat, turning to face him. You force yourself to ignore the warmth that blossoms in your chest when his mouth curves into a soft smile.

“Your mother seems to be doing well tonight,” Namjoon notes. “I’m glad to see it.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he can just show up here on a whim -- looking like that, talking like that.

Charming everyone in his path.

“Namjoon, I’m going to ask again. What are you doing here?”

The smile on his face falls and he looks skyward, exhaling a puff of steam into the cold night air.

”I’m here to come clean,” he confesses quietly. “Thought I might do this new thing where I try not to act like an idiot around you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, stomach fluttering wildly in response.

A lock of his hair falls over his eye when he looks back down and you smother the urge to brush it back, hands balling into fists in your pockets.

“Thought I might do this new thing where I just tell you the truth.”

You’ve tried so hard these past few days to be angry with him, to use your hurt feelings like a wall around your heart. But you can’t anymore. He looks down at you with those huge, dark eyes and your grudge falls apart.

“I care about you,” he admits. “I’ve been stumbling over my own feet for weeks because I didn’t know how to approach you about it. And then that night in the office,” he trails off, looking pained. “That is not how I intended to treat you.”

A gust of wind blows through and you curl into yourself, teeth chattering. Namjoon pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Please don’t,” you protest weakly. “You’ll freeze.”

“I won’t,” he promises, stepping closer.

You wrap the wool tight around your body, enjoying the way his lingering heat and scent wrap around you at the same time. Your heart is beating so wildly you can hear your pulse in your ears.

“Namjoon,” you whisper. “You must know I feel the same way.”

He reaches one hand up to stroke his fingers across your cheek.

“I was really hoping you’d say that.”

He’s so close now that all it would take is the slightest tip of your chin, the most incremental change in angle to press your mouth to his. But he doesn’t close the small distance between you. His gaze shifts to the street and you follow it, only now realizing a black sedan has been idling outside your house this entire time.

Your cheeks flame hot at the thought of his driver witnessing this exchange.

“I want a chance to do this the right way,” he murmurs. “Can I have it?”

You nod, waiting for your mouth to catch up to your brain. “Of course.”

He smiles wide then, the kind of smile you haven’t seen on him in a long time and once again you’re struck by how handsome he is. He narrows his eyes playfully when he realizes you are staring.

“Let’s get you inside before you get sick.”

You nod, pulling off his coat and watching as he shrugs back into it. He grabs for your hand, fingers brushing against yours just as you reach for the door.

“Good night, Namjoon,” you say softly.

He squeezes your cold fingers with his.

“Good night.”

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

Namjoon sends his driver for you.

You shift uncomfortably in the backseat of the sleek car, avoiding Chun’s gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. Up until now, you knew him only as the voice on the other end of the line when you’d arranged for Namjoon’s rides.

Now you’re matching a face with a voice -- and so is he.

You try not to dwell on how this must look after the scene outside your home just a few nights ago. Especially now that he’s been tasked with taking you to Namjoon’s penthouse.

It’s embarrassing, certainly -- but even this pales in comparison to what you’d had to endure before leaving the house.

When your mother had asked you to come see her and casually inquired about the last time you’d shaved your legs. When Jinjoo had made a point of letting you know that she was planning on staying all night long just as you were walking out the door.

That was definitely the most embarrassing part.

That’s why you feel a knot in your stomach as the security guard in Namjoon’s building escorts you personally up to the very top floor -- the one accessible only by keycard. That’s why you find yourself holding your breath right until the very moment Namjoon opens the door.

Then you let go of that breath.

“Thank you, Jaejin,” he greets, bowing in the man’s direction. He turns his attention to you and the knot in your stomach explodes into butterflies.

“Thanks for coming,” he says with a careful smile.

As if you had any choice in the matter. You kick your brain into gear and remind yourself to stop staring and smile back as the door shuts behind you.

He takes your coat and you take him in.

It’s the most casual you’ve ever seen him look, barefoot in jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows. He looks fresh from a shower, skin glistening and golden. The scent of him --- clean and male and intoxicating -- wafts over you.

Followed by a far less enticing one.

“Namjoon,” your nose wrinkles at the acrid smell, “Is something burning?”

“Something was burning,” he admits sheepishly. “But it’s not anymore. And you -- “ he pauses to let his gaze rake over you, “ -- you look incredible.”

Heat creeps up your neck and into your face, making you feel just a touch too warm in your brand new sweater.

“Thank you,” you reply, accepting his compliment with a shy smile. “So do you.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and you clear your throat, feeling uncomfortable with the admiration in his eyes.

“Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe the words through a nervous laugh. “That sounds great, actually.” You hope it’s not obvious that you’re jumping at the chance to take the edge off of your jitters.

Namjoon leaves you standing in his grand living room as he heads to the kitchen to pour the wine. You’ve always known he was a wealthy man -- but knowing that in the abstract and seeing it firsthand are two different things entirely. You take in the massive wall-to-wall windows and gleaming marble floors and custom-made art pieces with silent awe.

Namjoon interrupts your gawking when he returns with your wine.

“So about dinner,” he starts with a chuckle. “It’s on the way. I attempted to cook something, but as you already know that didn’t quite work out. Not surprising, seeing as I’ve never cooked in this kitchen before.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise. “Never?”

“Never,” he says with a smile. “I’ve never brought anyone to this apartment, either.”

His smile vanishes then, a more serious look taking its place. You swallow thickly as you let the implication of that statement wash over you.

“No one?”

“No one,” he confirms quietly.

Your lips part with surprise and Namjoon looks away, like he’s admitted too much -- and you stand there spinning your wheels, searching for something to say.

The sound of the door chime is a well-timed and welcome interruption.

Namjoon heads to the door to accept the food and you realize the same security guard who escorted you up here is making the delivery. It makes sense, of course, that only a trusted few could get this close to Namjoon’s private space.

“Are you expecting more people?” you tease with a smile when the guard wheels in a cart weighted down with enough food to feed an army.

Relief washes over you when Namjoon smiles back. The strange moment that passed between you before is forgotten.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got one of everything.”

Pleasant smells emanating from the carefully-packed containers fill the apartment, pushing away the burnt one still lingering from the food that’s been relegated to the trash.

“Just so you know,” you laugh, “I like all of it.”

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

The centerpiece of Namjoon’s outrageously opulent great room is the fireplace.

Your fingers wrap tight around the stem of your wine glass as you stare into the flames and contemplate how this night will end.

You know how you want it to end.

You know the dozens of debauched fantasies you’ve entertained about Namjoon -- the myriad ways he’s had you in your mind. But there’s no way for you to know what his intentions are, how he expects this night to end.

That’s why you’re strung tight as a bow as you hear him clearing plates and cleaning up in the kitchen. The sounds eventually slow and then stop. And you wait.

You don’t hear him approach.

You come out of your thoughts and look away from the flames and he’s just there, standing in front of the couch wearing an expression you can’t read. The wine starts to wobble inside your glass, set in motion by your unsteady hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, reaching for it. “Let me.”

He takes the glass and places it on the coffee table, sinking into the space next to you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

He leans in and reaches out to thread his hands into your hair.

“Namjoon,” you whisper weakly, pulse leaping in response.

His eyes seem to darken at the sound of his name. His fingers slip out of your hair and under your jaw, tipping your chin up and compelling you to meet his gaze.

“I told you I was going to do this the right way,” he murmurs, “And I meant it. After that night in my office, I promised myself I was never going to put you in that position again.”

Your tongue slips out to wet your lips involuntarily, as if the action could take the place of the words you want so badly to say.

But Namjoon makes no move, fingers firm under your jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes gently. “If you want this -- if you want me, tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

The words come out in a rush, laced with such desperation they sound like a plea, not an order. A smile tugs the corner of Namjoon’s mouth and he nods.

Carefully, deliberately, he sinks his mouth onto yours.

You sigh against the press of his lips as the pads of his fingers stroke the side of your face. For a moment you can’t think; can’t process a thing beyond the spice on his tongue from the Buldak or how impossibly soft his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you until you can’t breathe -- and just a moment beyond that -- until you are forced to pull away, chest heaving.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admits, panting.

“I’ve been wanting you to do that since we were kids,” you confess, emboldened.

He leans close again, eyes half-lidded, lips grazing yours.

“Well, we’re not kids anymore.”

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

NAMJOON

Namjoon has to force himself not to totally fucking devour you.

You are finally in his hands and the urge to unleash months of wait and want on you is so strong he has to take a physical step back.

You look up at him from where you sit on his bed -- hair mussed from his fingers, lips swollen from his kisses -- and he hesitates, unsure of his next move.

“If you’re thinking you don’t want to -- “ you start.

Namjoon cuts you off with a strangled laugh.

“Trust me, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he vows, shoving a hand through his hair. “It’s like I’ve wanted you so bad for so long I don’t even know where to start.”

Your eyes soften as you gaze at him.

Namjoon holds his breath as he watches you slip out of your sweater and then out of your jeans. You lie back against his sheets, eyes holding steady contact with his.

“Start anywhere,” you breathe quietly. “Start everywhere. Just start. Please.”

Fuck, you are going to be his undoing.

It takes him an irritatingly long time to work the buttons of his shirt open on account of his thick, clumsy fingers. He finally manages to get out of it and his jeans follow right behind.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” you murmur as he slides into the bed next to you. His fingers rake over the soft skin of your stomach and you jerk under his fingertips, body reacting immediately to his touch. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

Namjoon smiles when you use his own words against him.

He dips his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply -- savoring the soft, sweet smell of your skin. He mouths at your pulse point, feeling it race in response when his fingers trail lower to tease the delicate band of your panties.

“I figured out where I want to start,” he murmurs, sucking gently at the hollow of your collarbone.

He feels your deep intake of breath when he slips one hand into the satin, grazing against your mound. He shifts lower, allowing one finger to dip into your center, groaning at the wetness he finds waiting for him there.

“So responsive, Jagiya,” he praises softly. “So beautiful.”

You make a needy sound, hips lifting off the bed as you chase the pressure of his fingers. He turns to capture your lips again with his own, simultaneously working two fingers into the tight space between your thighs.

“Namjoon,” you sigh brokenly, “F-feels so good.”

“I can do better,” he promises. “Turn over for me.”

He waits for you to comply, body shifting in the bed. Once you are face down, he climbs over you, dipping his mouth to the shell of your ear, biting gently on the soft skin. You shiver underneath him, moaning softly.

Slowly, he kisses a line down the back of your neck, hands stopping just long enough to undo the clasp to your bra. He slips it off of you, reaching under you to tease at your nipples with his fingertips. He chuckles low with satisfaction when you twitch under his fingertips.

He continues his descent, dropping kisses along the soft line of your back. His hands reach your panties and he pulls them off, mouth sucking gently at the base of your spine.

“Namjoon,” you gasp, the sound of your plea is muffled as you press your face into the sheets. “Touch me.”

He sinks one long finger into you then, savoring the tight pull of your heat as his tongue flicks out to taste you. Your hips jerk off the bed and he uses both strong hands to urge your legs further apart.

“Relax for me,” he soothes, mouth closing over your wet center.

He pushes a second finger into you and you shudder at the fullness, back arching. The movement angles your cunt even closer and Namjoon seizes the opportunity, tongue firm as he swipes it against you.

He can tell how badly you want this. He can feel it in the way your thighs tremble while he’s working you with his fingers and tongue. He can hear it in the way you whimper when he nips gently at you with his teeth.

“Namjoon,” the tilt to your voice makes it sound like you are on the verge of tears. “Please -- I c-can’t -- ” Your thought evaporates into thin air when he groans directly into your center, curling his fingers deep against the spot inside of you that draws a sharp gasp.

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs his encouragement as you buck against his grip. “Come for me, Jagiya.”

He looks up just long enough to see your fingers twisted into the sheets, face buried deep into the pillow as you fall apart in his hands. You make the prettiest sounds as you succumb. Somewhere in the midst of your frantic whispering he hears his name and the sound goes straight to his cock, making the ache there almost impossible to ignore.

He ignores it anyway -- pushing the feeling aside to ride out the tremors with you, relishing the taste of your release on his tongue. He praises you, savors you, keeps you anchored to his mouth until your hips drop flush to the bed with exhaustion.

Then he kisses his way back up the line of your spine, dropping down at your side. You look so deliciously sated and flushed when you turn over that Namjoon can’t help the slow smile that comes over him.

You kiss it right off.

You fit your body against his -- slick skin against slick skin -- and kiss Namjoon so hard it takes him by surprise. Your hands dive into his hair, mouth desperate against his.

Namjoon chuckles under his breath at your newfound boldness, fingers reaching to tease at one pebbled nipple. Your body jolts in response and you answer with a move of your own, one hand sliding across the hard plane of his stomach and into his boxers.

Up until this very moment, he’s been able to ignore the insistent throbbing between his own legs. But the moment your fingers wrap around him -- the moment you start to pump your hand gently over him -- it becomes his only thought.

“Shit,” he groans, breaking the kiss to inhale deeply, “God, that feels good.”

You pull away to maneuver your body over his.

Namjoon watches through hooded eyes as you pull his boxers down his legs and then turn your attention to his straining cock. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth to contain the noise he makes when your mouth descends onto him.

The moments that follow are a test of the last shreds of Namjoon’s self-control.

The wet warmth of your mouth surrounds him, tongue teasing at the sensitive places that make his hips jerk and his mouth drop open in surrender. Your grip around his cock stays firm, mouth soft in contrast -- both sensations almost too much to bear at once.

He slips a hand in your hair to push back the strands that have fallen into your face and you release him with a pop, lips wet and swollen, eyes glassy and wide.

He nearly comes right then and there.

“No more,” he croaks, voice hoarse with arousal. “That’s all I can take.”

The smile you return is nothing short of victorious. Namjoon rolls you onto your back in one fluid motion, more than ready to retake his position of control. Your eyes are sparkling with laughter and he grins back.

“You like seeing me at your mercy, huh?” he teases, dropping kisses into the crook of your neck.

“I do,” you admit, shuddering when he slips one hand back down to the apex of your thighs. “It’s nice to be the one in charge for a change.”

Namjoon kisses you slowly then, taking himself in hand to slide the head of his stiff cock against the wetness spilling from your entrance. He pulls up on his arms and looks down at you just to appreciate the way you look right now, hair splayed across his pillow and skin luminous against his sheets.

“You’ve always been in charge, Jagiya,” he breathes, enjoying the way your cheeks pink in response. “Just like you’re in charge right now. So tell me what you want.”

The humor disappears from your eyes then, replaced by something heady and dark.

Namjoon sucks in a breath when your hand wraps back around his cock, guiding him back to your entrance. He throbs with need under your fingertips, muscles locked tight with anticipation.

“This -- ” you murmur, tilting your hips up to take him in, “ -- is what I want.”

Namjoon sinks down carefully then, slowly -- choking back a moan at the unbearably tight grip of your walls. You gasp, nails digging into his back as he strokes to the hilt.

“This is what you want?” he goads, feeling powerful now, drunk on the sight of you writhing beneath him. He pulls back and surges forward again, drawing a desperate moan from you. “Like this?”

You wrap your legs around him, hands sliding down the slick skin of his back until your fingers are gripping his ass, urging him to move faster.

“Yes,” you manage on a shaky breath. “Like that. Over and over and over.”

Namjoon buries his smile against your breasts, tonguing at your nipples as his hips piston against you. He nips at one with his teeth and you whine, back arching off the bed.

“You’re made for me,” he groans, panting his praise in between deep strokes, “So tight and wet I can’t think.”

You hum your contentment into his mouth when you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close for a kiss. He slips one hand under your ass, dragging you deeper into his heavy strokes and you cry out.

He’s always hated the echo in this place. But hearing the sound of your voice calling his name echoing off the walls is an entirely different story. It lights a fire inside of him -- making him move faster, harder -- desperate to hear it again.

“Namjoon -- “ your hands claw at his back as you cling to him. “ -- I think, I think I’m going -- “

“You will,” he rasps, when you lose all hope of finishing that thought.

He sinks his thumb into his mouth before dragging it down to rub slow circles across your aching clit and you clamp down around him in response. He chokes on his own moan, summoning just enough control to keep himself from exploding inside of you.

But then you start to unravel.

In those final moments, you feel hotter and wetter -- begging brokenly in his ear for some kind of relief. Namjoon holds off until the tight grip of your cunt starts to pulse around him and then he gives in. He comes so hard his vision darkens before it comes back.

Then he collapses on top of you, panting and wrecked.

You press a kiss into his neck and rake your nails gently up and down his back.

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

Namjoon wakes up alone.

He should be used to the feeling by now, but after last night -- after you -- he can’t help but feel disappointed.

He shoves a hand through his hair, slips into a pair of lounge pants and heads to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Then he stops in his tracks.

You are standing in front of the massive window in his living room, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. You sip it thoughtfully and look out over the city, seemingly unaware of his presence.

So Namjoon just stands there for a while, admiring your long legs and soft skin and the dark hair that spills down your back. Admiring the way you make this place bearable just by existing in it.

“Thought you left me,” he says quietly, and you startle out of your reverie at the sound of his voice.

“I did leave you,” you feign a serious expression, nodding at your mug. “For this. Thought you’d understand.”

“That I do,” he laughs, padding across the room to join you at the window.

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and you smile up at him.

“What are you thinking about this morning?” Namjoon presses quietly. “What’s on your mind?”

You sip your coffee and look back out the window before answering.

“I was just thinking about the day I came to ask for you a job,” you confess. “How afraid and alone I felt back then.”

Namjoon can still remember how he felt seeing you walk into his office after all those years. It certainly wasn’t afraid or alone and his chest squeezes at your admission.

“And now?”

“Now I feel …” you trail off as you turn back to look up at him. “... like everything’s going to be okay.”

He stares back at you, suddenly overwhelmed by how good this feels.

By how good it feels to be needed by you.

By how you in his shirt, in his apartment, in his life, makes total sense.

By how it feels like you belong here.

With him.

“You’re right, Jagiya. Everything is going to be okay,” Namjoon vows, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair. “Because I’m going to make sure of it.”

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

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

Amsaja: Lioness

Jaegyueo: Jaguar

TAG LIST:

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1K notes · View notes

norcumii · 3 years ago

Text

...oh thanks, Tumblr, it wasn’t like I was trying to answer that ask or anything. -_-

OHKAY. Take two! For this trope mashup meme, @dogmatix asked:

Rex/Obi or pairing/characters of choice - Apocalyse AU / Mermaid/Siren AU / Aroused by their voice

This modern!AU got a liiiiiittle bit more absurdist than planned, but NO REGRETS. Assistance was provided by @dharmaavocado and @deadcatwithaflamethrower -- THANK YOU BOTH!

*****

There was a lovely breeze coming in across the ocean, the sky had just enough puffy white clouds to keep things interesting, and Rex was taking a maintenance day. The last family group of tourists to charter a day trip had included several children that were at least two parts sticky and three parts grime. His poor Vigilance needed a serious scrub down, and Rex was not looking forward to restocking. Small Grubby Fiend 1 had stumbled – supposedly due to a sudden swell, but more likely because Small Grubby Fiends 2 and 3 hadn’t stopped ‘not kicking’ each other for way too long. Not being an entire idiot, Rex has gone right for the band-aids with cartoon characters, but since it wasn’t a cartoon Small Grubby Fiend 1 liked, that meant another – until all three Small Grubby Fiends had been plastered with far more of his first aid kit than was good for anyone.

It had been a long day.

So there he was, untangling life-vests that hadn’t even been used, while singing along with whatever music was playing from the boat’s speakers. Rex wasn’t sure if the music was pop, rock, or some other unholy category he’d never heard of, but thankfully it didn’t matter. He liked it, and could figure out which of Tup’s mix tapes it was on, which was the important thing.

Tup always made hilarious offended noises when Rex called them mix tapes, which was a significant reason why he did so. They were music folders, sensibly labeled by mood, because his little brother had realized at some point that was the only way to keep Rex up to date on anything past the 90’s grunge music.

Tup’s accusation, not his. Rex damn well knew how to use a radio – several kinds of radio, thank you very much.

He was several songs into mind-numbing chores when he spotted a flash of red streaking under the dock, and Rex ducked his head to hide a grin. He’d started spotting movement like that a couple of weeks ago, around the time the neighbors descended on their beach house. There were several ginger teenagers, so he figured one of them was a hell of a water rat who had damn odd taste in music.

To be fair, so did he.

It’d been weird at first, realizing he had an audience that disappeared the moment he acknowledged their existence. But the most he heard or saw out of them beyond the momentary glimpse was a bit of percussion, someone drumming in time against the water – and once, the dock itself – so Rex had shrugged and accepted their presence. It was kinda nice, actually, just to have someone around. He lived a ways off the end of a long, sparsely populated road, and while he didn’t mind the solitude, sometimes you just wanted another–

Rex’s train of thought went off the rails with a loud yelp as he discovered something slimy stuck to the back of a life-vest. It might have been edible once – it was a shade of radioactive green he didn’t associate with anything other than candy or video games, at least, so that was his best guess. Much as he wanted to blame the Small Grubby Fiends, he hadn’t done more than a spot check of these vests for awhile – could’ve been anyone.

Ugh. At least unlike some clients he could name, Rex’s eavesdropper wasn’t vandalizing anything. Wasn’t about to begrudge that.

Rex had managed to get most of the neon green grossness cleared when the rumble of an approaching car caught his attention. He wasn’t expecting visitors, not that that had ever stopped any of his brothers. Lost delivery drivers usually turned around before hitting up the driveway, which was long enough and had enough private property signs to keep out idiots looking for easy water access.

“Who the hell is this?” he muttered, setting the vest aside. He didn’t recognize the little black car, or the burly guy stepping out of the passenger’s side, but the guy waved and casually started towards Rex as if he knew who the hell he was.

Not reassuring, especially since the stranger rapped the car’s roof, and it headed back up the driveway.

“You seem lost,” Rex said, standing up and trying to look just the right level of intimidating.

“Nope,” the guy said back, still heading towards him. “Need your boat.”

“That’s work related – you need to wait till I’m back at the marina tomorrow. I’m at home, it’s my day off.”

Burly guy finally stopped, planting his hands on his hips – a move which just happened to part the jacket of his cheap suit enough that Rex could see the gun he carried. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Fett. I don't want any trouble – I just want you to head inside, and take that day off while I borrow your boat.”

Oh, FUCK. Nobody really talked about how the mob owned most of the marinas in Tatooine Bay, but you didn’t need to declare water was wet to get drenched in the rain. It just wasn’t something that ever happened to someone you knew, just friends of friends or something.

“And if I don’t agree?” he couldn’t keep from asking.

Burly Guy had a surprisingly expressive shrug. “Most people don’t enjoy pushing their luck that far.”

To his credit, it was a remarkably polite threat. “I’m surprised anyone ever does.”

“Eh, every now and then there’s some freaky masochist looking for cheap thrills, but it ain’t my kink. Don’t think it’s yours, either, so if you’d just head inside, that’d be appreciated.”

The smart move was probably to comply. Rex wasn’t inclined to cooperate anyways. He was saved from making either bad decision by...sound.

It didn’t register as singing – there was something too off about it, a combination that wasn’t quite autotune, or that polyphonic singing Echo had gotten into when Fives got obsessed with the guitar. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t right in a way that was madly distracting.

The...singing? – pulled both Rex and the goon around towards the end of the dock, and if Rex hadn’t been so muzzy-headed from that sound he would have been gaping much more blatantly.

There was someone slipping out from under the dock, and it was most definitely not one of the neighbors.

It was a trim, shirtless figure in the water – ginger indeed, short red hair just dry enough to be messy spikes. Pale skin was freckled in scales of shimmering reds, protective lines over what would be vulnerable areas on a human. It swam close enough to the surface that Rex could see the sleek fins and tail, and part of his brain kept screaming ‘mermaid!’ while the rest took in the long, sharp claws on webbed hands and whispered ‘predator.’ Its singing showed sharply pointed teeth, and it should not have been nearly that gorgeous.

The mermaid glanced over at him, eyes a deep blue-on-blue that could never masquerade as human, flicking a look up and down him that could have been flattering or terrifying – it all depended on if that was measuring him for a meal euphemistically or not.

The singing changed as the creature turned its attention back to the goon, and the magnetic pull on Rex lessened. He staggered back a step, not too surprised to find he was halfway down the dock without noticing. The hazy feeling in his brain stopped, or at least dropped down to levels that were close enough to normal, so he got a clear view as the goon started walking into the water, oblivious to everything except the mer-siren-thing he was shambling towards.

The siren moved when the goon was almost waist deep in the water, flowing forward to delicately place a hand at the goon’s throat. The singing continued, but now there was a new undertone, soft and somehow questioning. Rex couldn’t tell if there were words to it or not – maybe a whole other language for all he knew – but the goon responded, voice soft enough that he couldn’t make out what was said.

Whatever he said, it didn’t please the siren. It kept singing, but it snarled, showing more of those pointed teeth, then it twisted and dove, hauling the unresisting goon under the water.

A terrifying few moments more, and the last hums of the song seemed to stop vibrating through the water.

“What the absolute fuck?” Rex said numbly. Thank everything, no one answered.

A smart man would’ve hidden inside, or driven off to a movie theater or something – inland and away. Rex wasn’t sure why he stayed: curiosity – morbid or otherwise – shock, or a healthy disbelief in the whole debacle. He was maybe a bit too numb to not have some kind of shock, but –

He felt like he maybe deserved it. “Yeah, I can have a bit of shock,” Rex muttered to himself. “As a treat.”

Okay, he might have more than a bit. But by the time the siren poked his head out of the water again – politely out of arms’ reach – Rex had calmed down a decent degree. They just looked at each other for a bit, then the siren gave him a polite nod.

“Hello there,” he said in a pleasant, deep voice with a hell of an accent.

Rex held up a hand, needing a moment. Of fucking course the British even colonized under the goddamned sea. “Hi. You speak English.” It wasn’t quite the most inane thing he could’ve said, but his brain hadn’t managed to catch up yet.

He was talking to a goddamned mermaid who had just kidnapped and possibly eaten some mob thug who’d been trying to take Rex’s boat. It had been a day.

“You’re not the first land-dweller I’ve made the acquaintance of.”

Rex absolutely refused to make any kind of a crack about being charmed. There was too much hysteria lurking in there. “Speaking of acquaintances, you didn’t, ah, kill that guy, did you?”

The siren’s lips pulled back from his teeth a little. “I still haven’t decided what to do with him, so right now he’s out of the way.” He must’ve seen something impressive in Rex’s expression, because the angry disdain smoothed over to something more neutral. “He’s stashed in a cave I know. Enough air to breathe, but the only entrance is underwater and too far for most humans to swim without assistance.”

That was...a lot. “Thanks for the help.”

The siren smiled, an oddly sweet, bashful expression. “I’d be a very poor guest if I didn’t assist.” He cleared his throat, his expression going awkward. “Though I...suppose ‘guest’ is a bit presumptive.”

Rex grinned. “No, I spotted you a couple weeks ago – ah, I mean, sort of.” Before he could make more a hash of that, he cleared his throat. “The name’s Rex.”

The siren folded his hands together and did a little bow thing. “Obi-Wan. Pleasure to meet you.”

He wasn’t blushing. He absolutely was not blushing. “So...you in town for long?” Ok, now he was blushing, that was worst subject change ever meeting worst fishing attempt – meeting worst and wildly inappropriate pun.

Obi-Wan’s expression fell, sorrow way too visible in those non-human eyes. “I suppose you could say that. I...no longer have a home to return to.”

Definitely not a topic to change to. Right. Rex cleared his throat and shifted. “Well. You’re welcome anytime, for what that’s worth.”

The slow-growing smile didn’t remove that sorrow, but it did kindle something warm inside. This was at least three different kinds of trouble, but Rex didn’t think he’d regret any of it.

~end

#star wars #My writing #meme #trope mashup #Rex/Obi #mermaid #dogmatix #still not thrilled with how it wraps but it's certainly not the worst fic ending I've read recently #oh I'm still salty #whoops?#meanwhile there's several lines in here i adore more than is reasonable #AND I DON'T CARE

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theresthesnitch · 3 years ago

Text

Crooked

A/N: another entry for @harryandginuary BINGO. I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you do too.

Did you know that Charlie Chaplin once came in third in a look alike contest?

Read it here on AO3.

Prompt: O 73. You've dared me to do this as a joke but there's no way I'm backing out now.

***

"You don't have to do it."

Harry scoffed. "Of course I do.

"Listen, mate," Ron said. "I realize I'm the one who dared you to do it, but you don't have to actually enter the Harry Potter look alike contest."

"You may have meant it as a joke, but I'm committed now. I'm going to do it."

They stood in line at the registration table, and Harry looked around the room. The costumes were really bad. Did people think he really dressed like that? Looked like that?

The person in front of him moved, and Harry stepped up to the table with a nervous smile. "One entry, please."

"You can't charm your eyes green."

Harry, confused, replied, "I didn't?"

The witch sitting at the registration table narrowed her eyes at him. "It's against the rules of the contest. You can charm the scar; you can't charm the eyes."

"Solid rule. Good catching this one," Ron said from just over his left shoulder.

She pointed her wand at Harry's face, and his hand twitched for his wand before she said, "finite incantatum." Harry stood there staring at her, eyes unchanged. "Fine, whatever, it's not the right color anyway, so it won't help you."

Harry wondered briefly if Ron was going to die of laughter. "Er, right. Okay. Can I enter now?"

The witch rolled her eyes. "Name?"

"Harry Potter."

The witch fixed him with such a glare that he was sure he was going to implode under it. Ron, meanwhile, was struggling to breath.

"Obviously, buddy. But I need your real name to register for the contest."

Harry blanked. "But, my name really… James. James Evans."

"Alright, James. You're going to be number 4. When the time comes, they'll call you on stage."

"Right, thanks."

Harry walked away with Ron wiping tears from under his eyes. "Merlin, I'm glad you did this. It's going to be so fun for me."

Harry smiled. "I've never been so anonymous in my life. No one's even looking at me!"

"Of course not, mate. You don't even look like Harry Potter."

"Yeah, apparently I got the eyes wrong."

Ron looked around the room that was slowly filling up. "I can't believe you let my sister judge this."

"First off, if you think I let Ginny do anything, you are very much mistaken about how our relationship works. And never let Ginny hear you say that I let her do something. Second," Harry shrugged a shoulder, "it's for charity."

"Alright, I guess that's-"

"Your scar is crooked."

Harry turned around to face a slightly short, wiry man wearing a number 6 with blond hair and the most elaborate lightning scar he had ever seen. Do these people even know what I look like? "Excuse me?"

"Your scar is crooked," not-Harry 6 said. "You messed up the charm, and it's not even straight. Sloppy work."

"Huh," Ron said, looking Harry straight on, "your scar is a bit crooked."

Harry chuckled before turning back to not-Harry 6. "Thanks, mate. Good looking out."

"You can't really expect to compete if you don't put in the effort. Better luck next time." Not-Harry 6 walked away and left Harry standing with his mouth hanging open and Ron, once again, dying of laughter next to him.

"Ron, I think I might lose the Harry look-alike contest."

"Harry, your fiancée is judging." Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You're absolutely going to lose the look alike contest."

"Welcome, everyone, to this year's War Orphan Carnival. We're ready to start our Harry Potter Look-Alike Contest. Can I get all the contestants on the stage?"

Harry walked on stage with a handful of other contestants, and lined up next to a witch with a number 3 around her neck. Harry did a double take looking at her. She looked remarkably like him. He looked out to where Ron was standing in the crowd with a dumbfounded expression on his face. He raised an eyebrow in question. It has to be charms, right? Ron shrugged in response.

"Now everyone, we have a very special guest judge for our contest this year," the announcer said. "If anyone can tell us who the true Harry Potter look alike is, it would be her. Let's give a big round of applause for Ginny Weasley!"

Ginny walked on stage and immediately locked eyes with Harry. He shrugged a shoulder, and her eyes glimmered with mischief. She walked to the microphone, said a few words, and then was walking down the line of contestants. She chatted briefly with not-Harry 1, who was a tall wizard wearing Gryffindor robes, and not-Harry 2, who wore red and gold Quidditch robes and carried a broomstick.

Ginny stopped in front of not-Harry 3 and looked her up and down. She looked over at Harry with wide eyes, then back to not-Harry 3. “That’s a really impressive costume. Did you use charms?”

“No,” said not-Harry 3. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“Right, of course,” said Ginny. “It’s very good. Is that your natural hair?”

“Yes.” Not-Harry 3 was not very talkative.

“Great!” Ginny seemed a little lost now. “Well, good luck!”

Ginny stopped in front of Harry and looked him up and down. “Tell me about your Harry costume.”

Harry smiled. “Apparently I got the green eyes wrong and the scar is crooked.”

“Idiot.” Not-Harry 6 was apparently listening in. “You don’t tell the judge how you messed up the costume. Amateur.”

Ginny looked up to Harry’s forehead. “Huh, it is crooked.”

“Told you,” mumbled not-Harry 6.

“Maybe I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself,” Ginny said with a coy smile.

“Oh?” Harry asked. “What do I have to do?”

“Just answer a few trivia questions.”

“Were we supposed to memorize Harry Potter trivia for this?” asked not-Harry 2 to not-Harry 1. “I don’t remember seeing that in the rules.”

“Anyone can do Harry trivia,” Ginny went on, poorly concealed glee on her face. “I’m going to ask you Ginny trivia - things only the REAL Harry would know.”

“Alright,” Harry said. “Give me your best Ginny trivia.”

“Favorite color?”

“She’ll tell you it’s blue, but it’s really green. Green like a fresh-pickled toad.”

Ginny shook her head. “Favorite food?”

“French toast, but only if it is served with powdered sugar and not syrup.”

“Favorite number?”

“Seven.”

“Favorite season?”

“Autumn.”

“Favorite flower?”

Harry froze and his jaw dropped. Did she have a favorite flower?

“I - uh - Gerbera daisies?”

“What, no. That’s Hermione’s favorite flower.”

“It is?” said Ron’s voice from the audience. An echo of laughter went around the crowd.

“It is,” Ginny said over her shoulder. “One more chance. My fiance would absolutely know my favorite flower.”

Harry racked his brain, but he couldn’t think of a single other flower. “Lily?”

Ginny snorted. “No. Daffodils. Nice try, but you are clearly not a very good Harry Potter.” She winked, and moved down the line to not-Harry 5.

Not-Harry 5 was a little child who barely came up to Harry’s waist. His hair was rumpled, and he wore black robes with a stuffed white snowy owl on his shoulder. Ginny squatted in front of him. “Hi, sweetie. What’s your name?”

“Connor.”

“Hi Connor. I like your owl.”

“Thanks. I have a wand, too.” He held up a stick that had tape and glue around the end for a handle.

“Where did you get that wand, Connor?”

“I made it,” he said. “See, I put glue and tape, and it goes swish swish.” He waved the wand around.

“It’s very good. I was afraid I was going to have to tell Harry you had his wand. It looks so much like his!”

“Thank you. Mummy drew a scar on my forehead too. See.” He pointed at his head.

“I see. Your scar is not crooked, Connor.” he nodded his head. “Connor, do you know what Harry Potter’s favorite spell is?”

“Expelli-arms!” Connor waved his wand around when he said it, and Harry’s heart melted.

“Very good! You’re a very convincing Harry.”

“Thank you. He’s my favorite.”

“He’s my favorite, too. I’ll see you later, okay Connor?”

“Bye, Ginny.”

Ginny stood up and moved down to not-Harry 6, who was now sporting a black Harry wig. Not-Harry 6 regaled Ginny with an explanation of how his clothing choice was authentic and how he had done extensive research into the kinds of clothing that was preferred by Harry when he was at Hogwarts. Harry rolled his eyes and hoped no one was taking notes on this.

At last, Ginny walked back up to the podium. “Ready to make your choices?” the announcer asked.

“I am.” Ginny conferred briefly with the announcer, then stood to the side

“In third place, Number 6!” Not-Harry 6 walked forward to accept his medal, and returned to his spot. Harry could hear him grumbling slightly.

“Second place, Number 3!” Not-Harry 3 accepted her award quietly to a smattering of applause from the crowd.

"And finally, our grand winner in our Harry Potter Look-Alike Contest is, drumroll please," The announcer paused everyone in the room drummed their hands on their legs, "Number 5!”

Connor lit up like it was the best day of his life, and walked forward to grab his trophy. He tripped over the edge of his robes a bit, causing not-Hedwig to wobble on his shoulder, and then stood next to Ginny.

“Congratulations, Connor.”

“Thank you, Ginny.”

“Connor, would you like to meet the real Harry Potter?”

Connor’s eyes were as big as saucers, and he nodded emphatically. Ginny turned back to the announcer. “Roger, I happen to know that Harry is here today, and I think I can convince him to come up and say hi.”

The announcer’s face lit up. “Oh, ho ho! A special treat indeed. Mr. Potter, are you here today?”

The crowd went absolutely silent, and Harry waited for a beat before walking forward.

“Not you, you wanker,” not-Harry 6 said. “Get back in line!”

Harry continued forward, and shot a wink over his shoulder. He walked straight up to Ginny, dipped her dramatically and pressed a kiss to her lips. The crowd went wild. He set her upright before breaking the kiss and heard, “Oh merlin. I just called Harry Potter a wanker,” from somewhere over his shoulder.

Harry knelt in front of Connor, who looked like he couldn’t believe what was happening in front of him. “Hi Connor. Congratulations on winning.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.” His voice came out at barely a whisper.

“Can you call me Harry, Connor?”

“Yes.” Still a whisper.

“You know, you get to go home and tell all your friends that you beat Harry Potter in a Harry Potter look-alike contest.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Harry parroted. “I like your Hedwig.”

“Thank you.” Connor’s voice was a bit louder now. “You’re my hero.”

“Want to know a secret, Connor?” He nodded emphatically. “You are my hero.” An “awww” went up from the audience. Connor’s face lit up and he threw his arms around Harry in a hug. “I bet your mom is here. Do you want to take a picture with Ginny and I?” He nodded again.

A few minutes later, they finished a round of pictures with Connor’s mom, and a few more for the Prophet with all three winners.

“Thank you, everyone,” Roger the announcer said. “Congratulations to our winners, and let’s hear a round of applause for Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley!” The crowd roared, and Harry and Ginny made to leave the stage when they heard a gasp.

“Oh my merlin. I told Harry Potter that his scar was crooked!”

#harry and ginuary bingo #ginuary bingo #harry potter #harry and ginny #ron weasley #ginny weasley #fluff #it makes me laugh #snitchwrites

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years ago

Note

Ur wolficorn fic sent me into a catatonic laughing fit I straight up couldn't breath for almost 2 min thank u

I'm so pleased the Wolficorn fic had you laughing so much. It was definitely one written in a spur of the moment idiocy XD While I don't have anything quite so silly to offer today, how about some idiot shenanigans of less outlandishness?

Sharing Is Caring

There was something unique to Wolf Witchers that nobody outside of their school knew about. their mages had been experimenting with not just the body but the mind too. Knowledge was essential to being a successful Witcher and little did anyone know but the mages were highly competitive, wanting their school to be the best. The Wolf mages had secretly perfected a formula. They called it Moss because it spreads and links minds so they can share knowledge without issues.

It's all well and good, Lambert, Geralt, Eskel, and Vesemir get together each winter and spend nights linked, sharing stories from the path, helping figure out whether harpies have a blind spot they could exploit to make contracts a little easier. However, the year Jaskier, Cahir and Aiden were with them, and Aiden can smell the unusual potion on Lambert, the ruse was up. They all wanted in on what sounded like quite a lot of fun.

"It requires a lot of control, adepts learn it together while they're still young," Vesemir grumbled, reluctant to share.

"Well, I'm a Witcher, I have control," Aiden shot back, pulling himself up to his full height and puffing his chest out.

Not to be out done, Jaskier was next to him, looking equally entitled. "I am nothing if not a quick study."

Somewhat slower and a bit more shy but no less determined, Cahir cleared his throat from behind them. "I won't be left out either."

Which was how, outnumbered and threatened with being pestered, sung into madness and soulfully stared at, Vesemir relented. They set the great hall up, pillows for comfort, more than usual because Jaskier demanded it and the vial of Moss was brought out.

"As the strongest in Chaos, Eskel goes first, he'll ground us," Geralt explained. One by one they took a sip and passed the vial on, then got comfortable, lying down and reaching for the person either side so they formed a circle of sorts. Like a gentle wave, something tugged at them, dragging them from the present into something warm and comforting.

The memory surfaced gently, there were pangs of fatigue and aching muscles but muted. The focus was very much on the nest of harpies that had been disturbed. Through Eskel's eyes they could see how he worked, corralling the creatures and approaching from the side. An inner monologue started up.

"I'd noticed that the harpies tended to approach at a 20 degree path from the rockface over the years. And if they swarm, they stay at a 25 degree angle to each other. So I set about testing a theory."

In the memory the harpies shifted as Eskel jumped but did nothing else. When they zeroed in on him again, Eskel moved too.

"I suspected that the harpies have a blind spot in the 20-25 degree range. It is something that is worth exploiting. In a group they will try to guard each other's blind spots but can be used against them, especially with projectiles."

There was a soft clamour in the memory of multiple not quite voices brushing together, a feeling of intrigue and gratitude. Eskel's memory was followed by Geralt's a review of some of the flowers and the regional mutations he had found in them. Lambert brought forth his contract on a werewolf whose stomach had been filled with stolen silver jewellery, probably in the mistaken hope of it preventing the transformation. Though he quickly stopped sharing about what he then did with the found silver, Aiden's memories picked up. There was glee and excitement in there. They had sold some of the silver to get a nice room for the night as well as a bath to share.

The problem was, there was no way to look away from a memory and Aiden seemed to have no shame in sharing the knowledge he'd learned on the Path that year. Namely, he'd discovered a new way to flick his tongue during a blowjob that had Lambert keening, head thrown back and tendons in his neck standing out.

Somewhere in the muted mixture of outrage, humiliation and pride there was one clearer voice.

"Thanks for the tip, I'm so trying that." Which was how focus moved from Aiden to Jaskier. The first thing that hit them all was exhaustion. Aching legs, a creaky knee a back that screamed to be allowed to lie on a flat surface. Instead, Geralt stepped through the doors of the tavern, looking equally drawn and in the memory they could all feel the wide smile Jaskier sent him before looking to the tavern owner. The set Jaskier played was no different to his usual by the looks of it, however this time there was an increasing wave of concern from Geralt as Jaskier struggled at hiding his fatigue and sadness. It wasn't that he didn't like performing but his heart ached that he had to push himself at every opportunity because people didn't take kindly to Geralt. The memory ended when Jaskier trudge upstairs, forcing his chatter and smile until his head hit the pillow and he was out like a light.

There was silence in their joined consciousness, an uneasy shifting from Jaskier at his secret having been spilled until Geralt mentally enveloped him, gratitude and sadness.

"There's a lot that's done out of love," Cahir mused. There had been absolute blankness from him for the whole joining which had been unnerving. It made Lambert and Aiden turn their attention to the void that shrouded him and began poking, pulling and trying to tease something out of him. It was Eskel's warm push that jolted them all into a memory.

"I remember this," Eskel thought. "You said nothing had happened."

That might have been a small lie. Eskel had been out to track down fiend that had been terrorising a king's hunting grounds. He'd said it would take at least three days to track it and kill it before dragging a head back as proof of completion of the contract. While he was gone, Cahir had been permitted to stay at the castle as a guest. With his knowledge of Nilfgaard, he was a valuable asset and many often tried to draw information from him in a variety of ways.

The fiend was taking longer to sort than anticipated, not that Cahir was worried. It was only the fourth day and he'd ride out the next day if there was no sign of Eskel, that was fine. However, he had been invited for an audience with the king in the throne room. What was nice was that the king stood rather than lounge in his throne though that was probably more to do with his sciatica than the desire to treat Cahir as an equal. It did mean though that when a messenger came in, Cahir heard it all.

"My King, there's news that the fiend has struck again. Rumour is that the Witcher has failed, might be injured in the forest."

"How unfortunate," the king had drawled.

"Do we send a rescue party?"

"Why bother? He's just a Witcher?"

The flare of fury and protectiveness was overwhelming and the memory was choked by it, only brought back into focus by the sound of a slap as Cahir delivered a swift, hard backhand, making the king's head snap to the side.

Immediately there was the sound of swords being drawn and guards advanced on Cahir who gave a nonchalant shrug.

"What? He's just a king."

Spluttering, the king waved his guards off and glared at Cahir. "People love me. I matter to them. A Witcher doesn't."

"I don't love you. But I love my Witcher, he matters to me." Cahir glanced at his nails, the perfect image of disinterest even as his stomach was in tight knots. "You're say here, getting fatter each day. Eskel's out there actually protecting your people. So tell me, who matters more? A king who is easily replaced and they're dime a dozen on this Continent? Or a Witcher when no more of them are being made and the only ones who can conquer a fiend when it hunts in the same area you wish to pursue for sport?"

The memory closed off at that, Cahir finally getting control back over himself. He shrank back into his void, a soft murmur of embarrassment echoed in the connection. "You weren't meant to find that out."

Breaking the circle, Eskel pulled himself from the effects of Moss and the others broke out of it too, just in time to see Eskel roll on top of Cahir and kiss him.

"You could have died you idiot."

"So could you." Cahir refused to feel remorse or regret for his actions. "From what I recall, the king paid you handsomely for your efforts when you came back the next day."

The moment was broken by Jaskier clearing his throat, hand in Geralt's and tugging. "If you'll excuse us, we have a new tongue trick to try."

Without a word, Vesemir walked into the kitchen, down into the cellar and got started early on the moonshine.

#geraskier #lambden #eskhir #geralt/jaskier #lambert/aiden #eskel/cahir #gerlat of rivia #jaskier #lambert #aiden #eskel #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #vesemir #tldr: witchers share memories of their year to share knowledge

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

Text

The Search is Over

The boys make a speech at yours and Rook’s wedding.

Request: “Can I get a Rook imagine where you’re getting married and they boys give a speech at your wedding please”

Rook Cappelletty x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: It’s on the shorter side because I don’t really know how wedding toasts are supposed to go, but I tried my best. Now all I can think about is getting married to Rook and literally not being able to keep your hands off each other…

Word Count: 650

Once the words “I do” had slipped out of your mouths, you and Rook were tied together. Whether it was his arm around your waist, your hands intertwined, or your lips on each other, you two were never physically separated after the ceremony.

After being announced at your reception, you and Rook danced to “The Search is Over” by Survivor, whispering sweet nothings and making jokes the entire time. Being wrapped in his arms as all of your friends and family watched you and the man you love dance for the first time as a married couple; it was magical.

You’d gone around to each table during the meal, greeting all your guests with his hand wrapped securely around your waist, occasionally telling you how beautiful you were and how happy he was. You in turn told him how much you loved him. If there was a heaven, this was yours.

Once you’d sat down and the meal was over, it was time for toasts. Your best friend and maid of honor had given a speech about how much she loved watching you fall in love with Rook and how proud she was to be your maid of honor. Then it was time for Colson to give his best man speech, which you were apprehensive about but you knew it would be nothing if not memorable.

“Ever since Rook laid eyes on Y/N we’ve all known he would never look at anyone else, ever again. Which was surprising because it’s Rook.” Everyone laughed, including you, as your husband blushed, looking down at you. “Not many people know this, but Rook would not shut up about Y/N for days after they met.”

Colson looked at the two of you, your hands wrapped around Rook’s arm with your head resting on his chest. “So, I finally convinced him to ask her out because he was being a pussy.”

Rook made a face, “you didn’t do anything, but okay.” To which you giggled slightly.

“Don’t interrupt the speech.” Colson said, a goofy smile on his face. “Anyways, when she said yes the entire tour bus was celebrating because it meant that Rook would stop talking about how much he liked her. Except he didn’t.” Colson sent a glare to Rook.

The blond-haired man continued, “it was cute, I’ll admit. I was happy for him, but it was really annoying. So annoying that we decided to just invite Y/N on tour a month later so he wouldn’t have to complain about missing her all the time.” The audience laughed at Colson’s inflection, the man choosing now to show off his comedy skills. “On a serious note, we,” he motioned to himself and the rest of Rook’s groomsmen, “got to watch these two fuckers fall in love.”

You smiled at Colson, thankful for the semblance of sentiment. “I would also like to say,” Baze spoke up, a mischievous smile on his face, “I had never seen Rook so hooked on anyone, ever. He listened to her like a goddamn dog and treated her like a goddess.” You hid your face into your husband’s chest, an endearing smile on your face.

“And at first, we were all a little worried, because most women can’t handle the tour lifestyle, but Y/N is not like most women. For one thing, she never stopped Rookie from going out, which most of our past girlfriends have.” He made a face that resembled the awkward emoji. “Most of the time she came out with us which was pretty cool. It got to the point where I told Rook if he did something to ruin their relationship, I would kick him off the tour so she could stay.”

Slim shook his head, a fond smile on his face, “obviously, there was nothing to worry about. And since these two idiots won’t say it, we are so fuckin’ happy for you two.”

#rookxx #rook cappelletty #rook cappelletty imagine #rook imagine #jp cappelletty #jp cappelletty imagine

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captnjacksparrow · 3 years ago

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Hey, really liked your analysis of Hinata. I feel almost the same way about her. Even though generally I dislike female characters who are naturally meek, subservient and pointless with no character arc in any type of media, what made me absolutely hate her character was how she treated Neji. If Kishi wanted to show her arc being developed organically, instead of proposing to Naruto that removes her stuttering and gives her new found confidence (because girls only get confident when proposing to guys 🙄), Kishi could have shown her talking to Neji after he literally told his bitter story on the chuunin exam grounds in front of everyone. She is shown like she is sympathetic but didn't do anything about it. She didn't even talk to him after he was hospitalized. She knew exactly why he was the way he was, and yet she fights him as if it was his fault. She, an heir of the clan, could have asked her father to support Neji, she had some clout. But nope. In fact, it was Neji who apologizes to her in a way, he is the one who trains her and help create a new jutsu for her. What did she ever do for him exactly? And Neji didn't have to help her. She was in the best position to help and understand Neji but what did she do? A lot of fans like her character because she is reserved but kind and sympathetic. She is reserved but a coward. She was not kind towards Neji. He died for her when he didn't deserve to, he had dreams and goals that were much bigger than Hinata's entire existence. She couldn't even see her own cousin's pain and she claims to understand Naruto?? Really??

Even Kishi said she was a pitiful character who only watches from a distance. He deliberately made her that way, no goal, no backbone and no lines. And I think she sucks the most after Danzo.

WoooW!!!! Thanks for the ask, Anon.

[[Hinata and Sakura fans!!!! Please stay away and don't interact. I fucking tagged them properly]].

Even though generally I dislike female characters who are naturally meek, subservient and pointless with no character arc in any type of media, what made me absolutely hate her character was how she treated Neji.

We definitely share the same thoughts on this one, Anon.

I am really tired on most of the media for their poor treatment of female characters.

The last time I was amused by a female character was from 'Game of Thrones', I loved Cersei Lannister, who is an absolute biashhh and Sansa Stark, started out as an annoying rose tinted princess but ended up winning everyone's heart. Both are non-combative, soft spoken and somewhat powerless women in a world dominated by men. But they just didn't let the inconveniences stop them and instead they learned how to fuck that world back and take control. Both are similar and yet very different.

After seeing, such well-developed characters..... For me girls in Naruto series, is blehhhhh..... Nothing to get inspired from them. And I knew it by episode 3 itself. I have no idea how can girls, in real life, treat Sakura as some feminist icon, which makes my skin crawl for number of reasons. If you point her mistakes out in any discussions, they will pull the misogynist card to your face. When in reality, I am also a girl and my world views are entirely different from Sakura or Hinata. There is no way a 12 year old girl would want to look at the Duck of another boy.

And the problem is, They form the majority, I mean people who can connect with Sakura or Hinata. So, as long as girls like them exists, we really should suffer from these crap portrayal I guess.

That's why I advise people that If you want to see a good woman character, Narutoverse is not the place.

Having said that, I find Temari, Konan, Tsunade were better (I mean inside the Narutoverse). Though their motivations or reason to achieve a goal revolve around their men, I find their attitude relieving. Unlike Sakura or Hinata, they don't wet themselves on the sight of the men they love.

What irritates me was, Kishimoto could've easily put a character like Temari or TenTen or Tsunade into Team 7. It would've made my viewing experience a lot better. If he doesn't want the strong girls to take over the attention from his boys, then he should've introduced a meek character like Rin Nohara. She is silent and cute but atleast she was willing to die for the Village and never wetted herself over Kakashi, though she loved him. And she treated Obito like her best friend. But he deliberately made Sakura hateful and he never stopped.

Sakura and Hinata were the lowest of the low, compared to any other side characters. And, in the end, they got the main Character's Ducks without actively doing anything. For me this tells me three things

He was using these girls as a shield to close the hetero normative mouths while in reality hiding those boys true feelings under that shield.

He really hated these kind of girls and constantly showing his hatred on them at every given chance and never redeemed them back.

He knew the target audience’ mindset and he simply caters them by giving them what they need and at the same time writing the important arcs according to his wish.

I think, it’s the combination of all three.

Just to give you an example.

There is this delusional SS shipper Who justifies Sasuke was acting Tsundere throughout the war arc. I mean, come on!!!!

I came across this post because, the Original Poster was an idiot who comes into the anti SS tag and reblogged my content and saying I was wrong... So, I don’t mind sharing that person’s content.

So I don’t know where this delusion comes from... It's truly pathetic.

There are millions of idiots who believe in this kind of shit and Kishi is deliberately feeding them with bits and crumbs while making his boys go out and save the world.

These delusional mindset tells us they don’t give a single shit about the story as a whole. They watch it purely for the pretty faces and getting high over them. In this case, Sasuke.

It’s as clear as day that Sasuke didn’t care about anyone other than Naruto when fighting the war. You don’t have to be a shipper but even a non-shipper can point this out. I mean Sasuke wouldn’t have saved Jugo either, if he didn’t come to Sasuke and advice him. Do you think Sasuke would’ve tried to look for Jugo and saved him at all cost???? It’s just that he came to Sasuke and he helps him back. But Sasuke would’ve saved Naruto from the bomb blast even if he was standing a mile away.

So, if these delusions reflects the mindset of the majority of the women audience, then the creator will never try to give anything better but instead give us some low-life characters like Sakura and Hinata.

So, Anon, your expectation for Hinata’s character could’ve been developed much better is just a wishful thinking. Because, Hinata is a character for these kind of people and not for us. And the author deliberately did it.

She was in the best position to help and understand Neji but what did she do? A lot of fans like her character because she is reserved but kind and sympathetic. She is reserved but a coward. She was not kind towards Neji. He died for her when he didn't deserve to, he had dreams and goals that were much bigger than Hinata's entire existence. She couldn't even see her own cousin's pain and she claims to understand Naruto?? Really??

For me, this also irked me a lot.

Hinata could’ve tried to talk to Neji about his problems even when he was a child. But she was simply playing innocent when in reality, she is just a coward. Even after the Chunin Exams, there was no apologies from her side, like you said. Because she is from the Main Branch. That hierarchy never changed. If she had the gall, she could’ve easily broken that hierarchy by saying, ‘I want Neji Nii-San to take over our Clan, He is the best candidate for this and I can gladly help him with all my efforts’. A single line and just 2 or 3 panels, it all takes.

For me killing Neji is where Kishi asking us silently,

Do you really want these pair to happen despite having a blood stain of another character???

Most people said, ‘Yes!!!’, because they don’t give two shits about Neji. As long as Hinata gets Naruto, the main character’s Duck, that’s all there is to it. It doesn’t matter who dies, who lives.

That's why Kishi is shitting on them by making her as a non-existent woman in the Boruto Manga.

Even in real life, there are many hopeless foolish little girls who would do anything for the man she loves. I've seen them and I always stay 2 miles away from them. I mean, they even ditch their own friends and spends her entire time with him and when he dumps her later, she will come back to her friends for consolation. I think Sansa Stark is the best example for this. She started out much similar to Sakura and Hinata, believing in Princes and shit, she even naively betrayed her father for the man she had crush on. But the author made her to learn her lesson in a much painful way and later she came out as a Queen who no longer needed any man at the end. I think, this is called Development.

At the end of the day, Romance and Sex is all that matters. The author knew it. So, he is feeding these girls with some low quality cookies and they are very glad to take and eat it.

#ask #anti naruhina #anti hinata #anti sakura #anti sasusaku #anti nh #anti ss #naruto analysis #sasunaru #sasunarusasu #sns #antisasusaku #antiss #antisakura

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

Text

innocence - 29

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: smut (18+, underage DNI)

A/N: its angst season again!!

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky held the old phone against his ear as he waited for Natasha to pass the line onto Steve, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Once again, there were no news coming from them. There’s not enough evidence for us to even make a guess, he’d tell him every time he called the super soldier. It did not matter how many hours he spent on the phone, a team of synthesoids, witches, spies and super soldiers couldn’t bring upon themselves to figure out who was threatening his girlfriend. His mind couldn’t stop going to the worse places. If he didn’t figure it out, who would?

- Buck, we can go through the record off people who got into her building but do we even know if it’s the same person?

- It has to be, Steve. Go through the records, check for anyone who isn’t from the building.

- Have you asked Y/N who she thinks might be?

- No, I didn’t tell her. - he gulped. - I promised her she’d be safe. I’m not gonna tell her.

- That is a ter ... - the line broke down and before he could call out for Steve’s name again, he heard Y/N’s voice right behind him.

- When were you gonna tell me? - she held up the letter in front of his face and he swore all the colour drained from his face. - Bucky, when were you gonna tell me? How long have you known? Where did this come from?

Bucky dropped the phone to the holder, visibly gulping at the sight of his girlfriend holding the letter he had sworn not to let her see. However, except of seeing the fear she had displayed the first time it happened, she was upset, mad even with that hidden type of serene look which he was sure would scare any army. She put the letter on the table, crossing her arms at him.

- It came yesterday. I don’t know if it actually arrived yesterday but that’s when I got it from the post box.

- Why didn’t you tell me? - she sighed looking down at her feet, one hand holding her weight on the table. Bucky’s jaw locked, eyes moving from side to side before he wrapped his hand around her forearm and led her into the bedroom. Last thing he needed was for her whole family to know not only was he terrible at his job, he was also terrible at being her boyfriend. First fight in her parents’ home ... you can’t fuck up any further Barnes. - James, I’m not toying around.

- I thought it wasn’t important. - he lied.

- They found my family home, James. It is important and you hid it from me. Why did you even open my mail?

- I hoped to be able to find who did it before I told you. I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas. - he put his hands in his pocket. She narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossed over her chest.

- Is that why you don’t wanna kiss me or touch me? You ... Do you ... You agree with they called me? - she frowned, her own anger replaced by her own insecurities. Bucky blinked slowly as if he was processing what she had said, not believing the words which had came out of her mouth. - I ... I didn’t mean to be too forward, I jus ...

- No. No, no, no, no ... - he walked so fast he was almost running, holding her by her arms. - No. I don’t agree with them, I would never agree with it.

- Then ... are you really not in the mood and I just made a complete idiot of myself?

- I don’t, no, I just feel like I failed you, failed my job. - he cupped her face in his hands, trying to find her gaze but she refused to look at him. - I don’t want to fail you, everyone but you. I’m sorry I kept it from you, I thought that you’d feel safer if you didn’t know.

- So you thought keeping me in my own delusion was the best thing to do?

- I’m sorry. - he leaned his forehead against hers. She looked up, into his baby blue eyes as her hand hoovered over his arm. - I didn’t want ... I didn’t mean to delude you.

- You didn’t fail me. - she brought his hand up to her lips, kissing the back of it before leaning her face against it. - It is not your fault that letter came in.

- But I should know who it was ... or at least Steve should. He’s proving himself to be quite useless ... - he grumbled on, which made her hold in her laughter by biting the inside of her lip. - I’m sorry, dollface. I really am.

- If you ever kiss my head when I’m trying to kiss you ever again, we will have severe problems. - she pointed her finger jokingly at him.

- Heard it loud and clear, princess. - he pulled her arm so she was chest to chest with him as if they were about to dance. - Just so we’re clear, I do not agree with those letters.

- Please don’t hide things from me. - her ring finger traced his cheekbone softly. - I can’t stand it from everyone but I personally can’t stand it coming from you. You’re the only one in my corner.

- I’ll always be in your corner but I will want to protect you and I will sometimes do something stupid.

- Why do something stupid when you could do me? - she looked at him with that little shy grin which was just always so endearing to him. Bucky chuckled, leaning down to kiss her. It was a short kiss, broken by him merely to look at her pout.

- You’re getting frisky, princess?

- Well, you did lose your chance to see what’s under my robe. - her fingers slightly rose the hem of her robe to show a bit of her lace garter before dropping it to grab her dress. - But I do need to grab some takeaway.

- I’m going with you. - he followed into her own ensuite bathroom, but she stopped him, holding the door edge in her hand. - You were going to show it to me anyway.

- Next time don’t hide stuff from me. - she smiled before locking the door leaving him alone while she got dressed in a jumper like dress. Bucky leaned his forehead against the door, his mind going haywire as the minute she was gone he immediately started thinking of how he hadn’t found who was sending those letters. How come no one had figured it out? Surely whoever had done it couldn’t be that good at covering their tracks unless they were a professional. Y/N exited the bathroom in her jumper dress and put her hands on the nape of his neck. Bucky took that opportunity to rise up the hem of her dress, watching the soft white stocking reach its end where it connected to her garter. - No, Bucky. No.

- When did you have this? I’ve never seen you wear it before. - he tried to pull it upwards a bit more but she stopped him by merely wrapping her hand around his wrist. - Did you buy it for me, princess?

- Oh no, I wore this when I was 20. In front a 150 people audience.

- What? - he looked as confused as the day someone explained what the internet was to him. - Someone else has seen it? Why can’t I see it?

- Because you’re not in the mood. - she walked away to grab her coat and her scarf. - Are you coming?

- Oh, in more ways then one, princess. - he too grabbed his jacket, following her down the stairs.

He held her hand as they stepped outside, going into a mode he wasn’t used to going into very often. Everything and everyone was suspicious to him and at any moment, he felt like he was ready to kill someone with only a snap of his fingers. Bucky wanted that and at the same time he didn’t want it. It was a hard duality, that of wanting to defend her at all costs and ensure she was the happiest and that of wanting to just bask into how it felt to be hers, because, god, did it felt god to be hers. It was like waking up in spring mornings and all his mistakes seemed to fade whenever she smiled, the way her nose scrunched up and she hide her mouth with her hands, saying her smile was much to ugly for him to see it. Of course she was lying, her smile was the cutest thing. Yet, he wanted her safe, he wanted her to be endlessly happy. He could never get rid of his demons, of what they had done to him, but he could make sure no one hurt her, no one treated her like a commodity because she was everything but that.

- Claire said Aunt Petunia corned you about babies. - she spoke out as they waited on the line. - I’m sorry, I keep telling her not to but I think she’s in competition with her friend about it.

- It’s okay. - he chuckled. - Do you want one?

- Baby?

- Yeah, do you want a kid someday?

- I do but only one. I think my mum and dad lost a pound of hair each time me and my siblings bickered. Besides, Colin almost made me believe you were cheating on me.

- What?

- Yeah. I was desperate, I called Chuck for help. Chuck. Also, I think he’s dating.

- Circling back to the baby question ... would you consider a baby, maybe you and me have one, someday?

- You want to have a baby with me? - she peered up from looking at her shoes to look at him. Bucky immediately regretted the question, she was young and probably not thinking about kids. - Buck?

- Forget it.

- No, Bucky. I didn’t mean it like that ... I just thought you wouldn’t want to have kids.

- I don’t know. - he scratched the back of his neck. - I mean, I don’t really have much family left and I’d like to think, maybe someday, we could have our own.

- Bucky ...

- I’m freaking you out.

- No. I’ve thought about it too, buying a house, having a baby, but ... everything I do is controlled and scheduled and tight lipped so I tend not to day dream about it.

- Hey ... - he hooked his arm under her waist, pulling her close to him. - You still have agency and besides, I’m really good at going undercover if you need to.

- You always know what to say.

- That’s because you’re predictable, princess.

- I am not. - she retorted, pouting as she crossed her arms.

- Yes, you are, princess.

- Really? - she cocked an eyebrow at him, before standing on her tip toes to whisper against his hear. - I’m not wearing any underwear.

- What? - he blushed as Y/N smiled before stepping forward to collect the takeaway bags from the customer assistant. Bucky cleared his throat as the two of them walked outside. - I thought you had something to show me.

- I did but then I realised it is really uncomfortable to be in that lingerie, so I took it off.

Bucky felt most of his blood travelled south as he looked up and down her body. Damn it, suddenly her home felt so far away from the restaurant. He couldn’t help but stare at her body as they walked down the street, the way her dress draped over what he now knew was her naked body. Part of him felt jealous that she was in such a state in front of everyone else but the other part, the most overwhelming one, wanted to push her into an alley and take her right there and then and maybe he would’ve done so if he hadn’t seen a few paparazzi trying to appear invisible. He put himself on her left, mostly covering her, wrapping his hand around hers as he picked up the pace to get to her place. Once again he stood behind her as she opened her door, so close her could smell her daisy perfume and if he were a bit younger and lacked self control, he would’ve drowned her neck in hickeys. However, he thought seeing himself display some strong PDA with his girlfriend on the next morning’s paper. She took her jacket off, hanging it on the hooks by the door.

- We’re going. - he whispered against her ear as she placed the takeaway bags on the kitchen. She opened her mouth to protest, wanting to defend her right to have the yummy food she had just bought but Bucky gave her no chance to do so, instead holstering her upon his shoulder and climbing up the stairs.

Y/N waved at her younger brother who stopped in his tracks as Bucky passed through him and straight into her bedroom. Before she could protest once more, he laid her on her own bedroom, climbing on top of her and started to kiss her neck which replaced the half done protests with small moans. His hand slide up her left to her tight, rising the dress in the process and sure enough, she had not been lying about not wearing any underwear. Other than the garter which held up the sheer white stockings, she was a bare as the day she was born. Bucky took a moment to appreciate it, the bare woman laid on the bed under him, looking at him as if he were the only man in the world.

- I must say, princess. Whatever you had to show me can’t be better than this.

- Maybe my food downstairs is better.

- You’re not walking down any stairs anytime soon, after I’m done with you. - he leaned down to kiss her, a harsh full of need kiss as if he hadn’t seen her in decades.

She smiled through the kiss, hands held over his neck as he placed kisses and sucked her skin in places she was sure to get a hickey the next day, but it didn’t matter. In all honesty, nothing really mattered when he kissed her. Y/N held her hands up as he took off the dress and basked in her nakedness. Screw all the women he had ever slept with, no one compared to her. It didn’t have to do with beauty or even seduction. She was just her, just herself in her own naked glory standing under him, eyes shining with a naive like lust as she awaited his next movement. Bucky should’ve done something else but he decided just to kiss her, fingers caressing the soft skin of her face.

- What is it? - she asked as he interrupted the kiss once more.

- You are the most wonderful thing in my life, Y/N. - he kissed her once more, one hand coming to remove his own trousers.

Her lips stretched into a small smile as she rose her forehead to press it against his. She mumbled a small I love you, kissing the side of his lips as he pushed his cock into her. Her lips stretched into a gasp as he grunted once he shed himself completely inside her, eyes closed as he let the feeling of being inside of her take complete hold of him. She continued mid gasp, not a single thought forming inside her mind rather than how good he felt, how full she was.

Bucky opened his eyes, baby blues almost navy coloured as his hand pushed some of her hair away from her face, kissing her to silence her little gaps and moans which came out in such meek tones, it made him even hard just from listening to them. The kiss was forceful, his lips swallowing all her sounds as he slowly circled his hips against hers, one hand holding the side of her hips with a vice like grip. He pushed his hips back, removing himself from her only to thrust back into her, establishing a slow and delayed pace, grip strong enough to leave a bruise the next day. She whined, nails dug into the fabric of the sleeveless tank top he had not taken off.

- Bucky, please ... - she pleaded, tears pooling in her eyes. - Faster.

- No, princess. You’ve been so bad lately ... what should I do with you? - he stopped moving, stilling inside of her.

- Move? Please?

- Giving me handjobs in a plane, pouting when you don’t get attention, walking around without underwear. That’s not good girl behaviour.

- Bucky ... - she tried to rock her hips against his but he stopped her, hand firmly pressing her against the mattress. - Bucky, please.

- I don’t know, princess. - he leaned into the crook of her neck, playfully bitting her sensitive skin, before kissing it and doing it again. - You look so pretty when you’re begging for my cock. I almost want to see it more. Maybe leave you like this all night, what about that?

- Please, Bucky. Please. - a tears rolled down her cheek as she tried once again to rock her hips against his into a pointless effort. - Please, please, I need it.

- I know. You got so upset when I didn’t fuck you last night, dollface. - he moved out and into her in a long, slow motion, earning more moans from her. - You’re just becoming so needy for me, princess.

- Please. - she pouted, raising up to kiss him, her hands moving up to try and take off his shirt but he refused, shutting her actions by starting to relentlessly thrust in and out of her as if he had been possessed by mere lust. Y/N threw her head back as his hand grabbed her breast harshly and he continued to relentlessly fuck her.

Her legs trembled as he went back to paying attention to her neck and jaw, the mix of all the emotions chasing her high. She whined, trying to deal with all she was feeling from his lips against her neck, his hand massaging her breast and flicking her nipple every once in a while as well as his cock veins against the walls of her channel. She managed to open her eyes for a few seconds and swore she could cum merely at the sight of him as he moved away from her neck to thrust faster into her, head thrown back, pink reddish lips opened in a circle, sweat forming in hairline. She had done that, she had gotten him to look so lost in pleasure and that was as stimulating as something could get.

His hand left her breast to start circling her clit, slowly and painful, a harsh contrast with the fast pace. Her own hand replaced the place that had once been occupied by his hand on her breast, biting her lip as he continued with his motions. Bucky did not stop until she reached her orgasm, the tight feeling in her lower stomach exploding into a particular high pitch moan which he silenced by kissing her, reminding her her parents were still downstairs after all. He didn’t take long to reach his own orgasm either, continuing to thrust quickly into her until ropes and ropes of cum painted her walls. The orgasm weakened his hold over her for a few seconds, leading to him collapsing to her side, pushing her along with him. Bucky slipped out of her, reaching up to kiss her lips followed by a small kiss to her nose.

- Hi. - she said shyly, cuddling against his chest as he pushed a cover over her body. - No more secrets, promise me.

- I can’t promise that. I can promise that whatever I do, I do it because I love you and I want you safe.

- Buck.

- I will try. - he kissed her forehead. - Good?

- Good.

She remained in his arms, cuddling against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beat softly against his ribcage. It felt good, it felt good to feel loved, to hear the heartbeat of someone who loved her, someone who existed, someone who she had only dreamed about and now existed in real life and loved her. The two watched the old clock on her table turn to midnight. Christmas day. She looked up to him, extending to give him a quick kiss.

- Merry Christmas, love.

- Merry Christmas, princess. - he kissed her nose.

- I thought we could trade presents between us. Make it special.

- Me first. - he said and before she could ever argue, he was rolling out of bed with a small blanket covering his nudity to grab a present wrapped in festive wrapping paper with her name written on it. He sat on the bed, next to her, pushing the duvet to cover her so she wouldn’t be cold. - I hope you like it.

- I’m sure I will. - Y/N smiled at him before proceeding to unwrap her present. It was a book and one she recognised very well from seeing pictures on Google whenever she looked around jokingly for first editions on Ebay. - Buck, it’s too much. I can’t.

- It’s mine. Well, it used to be mine but now it’s yours.

- How do you even know I like the Hobbit?

- Chuck told me.

- You and Chuck talk? - she giggled, unable to picture her best friend having a conversation with Bucky who was always brooding.

- We don’t but whenever we’re on set, he just keeps talking. He said you liked it, so I thought it would be fun if you had the one I read when I was what? About your age?

- Oh okay, grampa. - she poked his chest jokingly before handing him his present.

Bucky kissed the side of her temple, opening the package to see an album like photo with his name written in gold. He gave her a confused look but she merely nodded her head, telling him to open the book. Once he did, he saw “All the times Bucky Barnes was a hero” written in her handwriting followed by pages and pages of articles calling him a hero, the saviour of the day and other words he did not equalise with himself.

- I know you don’t believe you’re a good man but I do and it’s not just me who thinks it. There has been darkness in your life but the way you continued onwards, doing good to the world which hurt you ... that’s noble. - he heard her voice almost in a echo like fashion as he moved page after page. It did not only ranged from his time in the Howling Commandos but even til now, with recent missions and facts. Everything was there, different journal cut outs, different testimonies. Everything.

Bucky looked to his side, looked at her who was smiling at the book in his hand which she had put together and he knew. He just knew.

- Y/N?

- Hm?

- Marry me.

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