#everyone should imagine him tall at least once | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lbxbx · 5 months

Text

Blackmail | KTH

Pairing: Idol!taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, angst. Five shot

Synopsis: being part of their staff meant you had to be around them all the time, Taehyung has a checklist of all the girls he slept with and filmed and you were next on the list, as he lures you using several ways one of them being actually showing you the content he films, before you finally give in and he actually films you to tick you off of his list. Little do you know it’s the biggest mistake ever.

Disclaimer: events and incidents in this fiction are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. This does not resemble Taehyung’s character whatsoever.

“He’s probably late over something stupid.” One of the hairstylists huffs blowing her fringe off of her face.

Nothing new really, you’re so sick of hearing her whine all the time, as if she’s not aware of how hectic the schedule is especially during their tour, not only the schedule is all over the place, they usually get sick and exhausted during this time so they do deserve to rest for an hour longer at least.

Of course you rolled your eyes and sometimes you would actually leave the entire room the second she starts whining and radiating negative energy to the entire staff, once she starts nagging, the energy shifts right away since over half of the staff don’t like her.

You were able to manage though and got used to it since you’ve been working with her for a couple years now, you figured out a way to reduce your chances of a headache. The moment she starts whining you take your airpods out of your pocket and put them on, blasting the music really high up and totally caring less if you couldn’t hear people around you.

Your job was quite sensitive, it took you years to get to where you are right now, you had to be there all the time whether it was broadcasts, practice or even listening parties or stupid birthday parties, you were always there with them.

And being with them for a few years now made you all really close, you understand their characters very well and it’s nothing like what people see on TV or their phone screens, they’re still human after all, and most importantly, they’re still men.

It’s four in the afternoon and time is ticking, the concert is supposed to be started by 9 in the evening and they’re still not here, and there was still a sound check and practice that had to be done first, you were really behind on schedule. You see the girls standing up at the same time which makes you lower down the music.

You hear footsteps coming from the end of the aisle and the staff are all on standby which means that they’re finally here, you take your spot near your station and put your airpods back in their case ready to start on Taehyung’s face.

Your work suited his face the best, of course you’d work on everyone’s face if they needed you to cover for someone, but you were really skilled and your talent suited his features the most. You’ve been working on Taehyung for a couple months now.

He gets into the room and yanks his top off, a view you’re used to the entire time whether it was him or any of them, he throws himself onto the chair and looks at you once before looking at his reflection in the mirror. “How are you?” A forced smile lingers on his face.

“Good, how are you?” You smile under your face mask, he nods his head. “Sleep deprived, but I should make it.”

“Fingers crossed.” You cross your own fingers and put a headband around his head to get his hair off of his face, he’s growing his hair really tall that he’s tying it in a man bun most of the time. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not planning to cut it off.”

He’s smarter than what people think, you giggle and nod. “I think it looks good on you.” You finally pump some primer onto your hand and start dabbing it onto the skin of his face.

You know people envy you for your job, and in fact you’re really happy with it because it pays really well along with other privileges. Their fans probably envy you the most and you know they look really good but you’re not attracted to any of them in any possible way. You spent so much time with them that they feel like colleagues.

After all, you and them work for the same company.

He takes his phone out and dims the brightness as he starts rapidly texting someone, his leg anxiously moving up and down, you’re used to that too, he must be nervous or tired.

It was peak summer and the weather was suffocating, the humidity and the heat together forced everyone to either wear less clothes or constantly keep the air conditioners turned on, but in your case you had to chose both because you cannot stand the heat, and you get really embarrassed if you got sweaty.

And honestly your top was driving you insane, it was really lose that it kept going down your shoulder, and whenever you would move to grab a brush or anything, it would slip down your shoulder and reveal your bra straps, you can’t keep holding onto it the entire time because you needed both your hands while you’re working, so once you adjust your top it would slip back down your shoulders in seconds.

It kept happening over and over before Taehyung notices, a smug smirk sits on his face before he runs his index finger over the collar of your shirt. “I love your shirt.” And you playfully slap his hand off and grab him by his chin to throw his head back, dabbing contour onto his jaw line. “Thank you, I got it when we were in Vegas last year.”

He moves his head down again to look at your plain white top as if it was his first time seeing this excessive amount of skin, he’s totally checking out your tits and cleavage that appeared whenever your shirt fell down your shoulder. “Oh I miss Vegas.”

“You do?” You push his head back again and he finally gives in. “I enjoyed shopping there.”

“Other magical stuff can happen in Vegas if you know what I mean.” He winks at you which makes you force a laugh. “Says the one who spent his entire time at the hotel.”

“Exactly.” He simply agrees before looking around making sure no one is listening before signaling you to come closer and you do, and he whispers. “I spent two nights with four different women.”

You’re used to so many weird things from the seven boys, but this is a first for you. You look around worriedly hoping that no one over heard him, your body tenses and you feel the need to escape this weird topic. “It was an iconic concert though.”

He scoffs before whispering again. “Girl fuck the concert, four different whores in two nights, it was an experience out of this world.”

“Taehyung.” Your voice stern and serious when you stop him. “You know this isn’t allowed, and you’re being a little loud right now.”

He waves his hand before he looks you dead in the eye. “We do this all the time, nothing is not allowed.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s always you men bragging about stuff like that.”

And he even dares to look around the room again. “There are 13 different women in this room right now, I slept with like.. 9 of them.”

Your shirt drops down your shoulder again but you’re too occupied working on the face in front of you that’s been blabbering nonstop about things that are making you severely uncomfortable. “This is totally not okay.”

“Says who.” His eyes pierce through your cleavage. “Sometimes girls beg me to sleep with them, and I can’t let them down can I?”

“You’re lying.” Your fingers start working faster still making sure the makeup that sits on his face is flawless, you’re wishing this conversation would end fast.

“I can show you if you want to.” He raises an eyebrow in challenge and you giggle thinking in your head that he’s totally joking, but he probably isn’t.

“No thanks I’m good.” You finally put on some lip tint and spray his face with a setting spray. “You’re good to go.”

He gets up but his eyes are still focused onto your chest, a little uncomfortable space between you two as he puts his hands in his pockets. “If you still don’t believe me go ask Namjoon or Jungkook, they spent the night with someone and they could probably tell you about it.”

“Why are you insisting on proving it to me?” You frown and walk a step back, “I’m not interested in finding out more.”

He shrugs carelessly. “I wanted to do you a favor, maybe the nine I fucked in this room can finally be ten, by then I’ll have only three left.” He laughs, totally proud of the joke he said, if that’s even considered a joke.

You scrunch your nose and hit his chest playfully, you kind of wished you did it harder though before you tell him. “Shut up, get away.”

He takes another step closer and hooks his finger to the collar of your shirt to reveal your chest that’s only covered with a bra.

“I know the female body really well, and I know women really like having their tits sucked, have you ever had your tits sucked before?”

This time you push him harder and hug your shirt closer to your chest. “You’re crossing the limits Taehyung. Get away.”

He laughs playfully and feigns innocence before tapping your nose. “You’re so cute do you know that? I’ll see you on the break, maybe you should do some thinking until then.”

Mira the hairstylist pushes Taehyung back onto his chair and takes the headband off of his head, you reorganize the makeup into the makeup bag when you overhear him asking her. “Are you feeling better today?”

Mira sounds flustered when she answers him. “Shut up.”

Maybe he did actually fuck over half of the girls around this room, this man is unbelievable.

As soon as the first part of the concert ended they moved backstage again to change and have their makeup retouched, you knew he was going to start the awkward talk again so you put your airpods on and pretended to be listening to music even if you weren’t. His eyes were piercing through your entire body the whole time.

He takes out his phone and opens the gallery to purposely open a video he filmed, he could see that you were watching his screen so he turns up the brightness on his phone.

In the video was a naked girl on her knees in front of him, her hands tied behind her back and her makeup was smudged, she was begging him to make her cum . And he was caressing her cheek and putting his thumb between her lips.

Your facial expressions change and you find yourself cringing, he looks at you and bats his eyelashes. “I told you.”

“Taehyung, this is wrong on so many levels.” You push his face to the side to work on his makeup.

“It isn’t, I promise.” He shakes his head. “I promise you no one will ever know. We can spend a couple nights together and that’s it, no strings attached.”

And you immediately refuse. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you close with any of the girls around here?” He asks and you’re a little taken back at his question. “Yeah?”

“Who?”

“Luna I guess.” You name one of the girls while shrugging and he scoffs, before exiting the video on his phone and scrolling through it to open another video.

In it you see Luna one of your closest friends in the company, blindfolded in a bed and Taehyung’s face is in between her legs as he’s eating her out. Is it really okay to mess around?

“You can’t be serious.” You gasp. “Is it only you or do the other guys do the same?”

“I don’t care, but if you have your eye on someone I could hook you two up together or something.” He shrugs and your jaw visibly drops. “You are unbelievable Kim Taehyung.”

“Wait until you try me in bed. I’m a fucking god.” He confidently speaks and you’re shocked, you’ve known the man for years but this is totally new for you. “Name someone else.” He exits the video on his phone before you shake your head. “No thanks, I don’t think I wanna see anymore.”

He locks his phone and leans his head back onto the chair while crossing his arms. “Just think it through and I promise you won’t regret it.”

“It seems to me like you’re the one begging for sex.” You force a smirk, his eyes meet yours for a couple seconds and he mirrors your smirk. “What if I was?”

“You’re getting nothing anyway.” You shrug. “You’re done, get up.”

“Oh I get it.” He remains in his seat. “Are you attracted to someone else? Let me guess, is it Jungkook? All women have something for that jerk.”

“I can’t deny he’s cute. But nope.”

“Is it Seokjin?” He tilts his head. “No, is it Jimin? Do you have a kink for cute guys or something?”

You roll your eyes and turn your head to walk away before he grabs your wrist. “Can you make my lips a little darker please?”

You look around trying to find the lip brush before dabbing some color onto his lips. “I’ve been told that I was good with my mouth, I just care about you so much I feel the need to make you experience it.”

“Oh my god.” You roll your eyes and put the lip brush away, he rises up on his feet while laughing, “Alright I promise I’m done, but I just want you to think it through, you won’t regret it.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think I’m changing my mind.” You clean up your station, he brushes his entire body against your back and whispers. “Will you be there tomorrow on the episode filming?”

“Well I guess unfortunately I’m always there.” You flinch in your spot and immediately take a step back. “Taehyung please stop touching me like that.”

“Alright.” He takes a step back and whispers. “I have a surprise for you tomorrow, I promise you will love it.”

“Then maybe I should call sick.” You look at his reflection through the mirror, he smirks and high key stares down at your ass, a second away from actually groping it in front of the entire staff and his band mates. “So I’m guessing you don’t like surprises.”

“From you? Nope.” You turn to face him, realizing you’re sandwiched between him and the mirror behind you, “May I?” You clear your throat, trying to find a way to get away from him, he stands next to you and gives you enough space to walk out of the room, his eyes still locked onto your ass, thank god it was summer time and thank god for biker shorts. Taehyung was suffering when he can clearly see the outline of your panties through your shorts and he can’t do anything about it.

Your rejection only makes him insist more and Taehyung grew up spoiled, people got him everything he wanted, and if they didn’t, he made sure to get it in his own way. So your rejection doesn’t really matter to him. He will have you eventually.

Even if you said no.

It’s the next day and you were already on the set, luckily one of the other stylist couldn’t make it so you had to work with Namjoon and Jimin instead. You could clearly see Taehyung’s eyes staring at your reflection in the mirror even when he’s three chairs away. You roll your eyes when he winks at you and he even dares to blow a cheap kiss. Your friend Leah who’s been working on his face rolls her eyes too and stands in the way.

“Do you wanna put your lenses on?” You ask Namjoon, he takes one look at the mirror and shrugs. “I don’t feel like putting lenses on, what do you think?”

“You’d look good both ways, but maybe I should put more eye makeup on if you’re not putting lenses on, is that okay?” You fish out another palette and show him the colors and he nods. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Of course. Y/N’s so good you have no idea.” Taehyung gets up from his chair and walks towards you. “You’re lucky she listens to you, I tried suggesting things to her but she kept saying no.”

Namjoon scoffs and grabs out his phone. “It’s because she’s smart.” Does he know about his friend?

“Don’t you want to know about the surprise?” He puts one of his hands in his pockets and takes a step closer to you, his other hand picking onto your top, even sneaking a look under it. Practically there was nothing to see, the studio they were filming in was freezing cold so you had an extra layer on. You subtly push his hand away and look back at Namjoon’s face trying to finish him up. It was basically impossible with Taehyung distracting you.

He takes another step closer this time his body almost touching yours as he whispers. “I’ll be waiting for you in the parking lot after we’re done filming, please come.”

You sigh and look at him, this can’t end up will and it won’t. His personality specifically scares you and you could swear the man was bipolar in some sort, when sometimes he’s all flirty and shit, and all of a sudden he claims this character that’s so innocent and cute which doesn’t really suit him.

“I’ll think about it.” You put the brush down and tap Namjoon’s shoulder. “What do you think?”

“It looks great, thank you.” He barely smiles and immediately leaves his chair to go and lay down on the nearest couch. You turn your head back to put the brush back into the makeup bag and Taehyung is still standing there. His eyes still scanning your entire body.

He’s a man with a plan, and honestly he knew exactly how he wants to have you. He scans you head to toe, your hair that he wants to pull on while he’s pounding into you uncontrollably, your lips and neck that he cannot wait to bite into. The way you bite your lip when you’re anxious or when you try to hide a laugh always ignited him.

Your chest, fuck he can easily tell the color of your bras and he even knows when you do your laundry, he knows exactly when are the days you wear on your sports bra, or the days you switched to your black bra that perfectly highlighted your tits. Although he grew to be a fan of your pastel pink bra that makes the color of your skin pop, he admires how the cups hug onto your big tits and this bra’s straps particularly keep sliding down your small shoulders.

He moves down to your waist and hips, the outline of your panties through your pants were like a gift from god to him, he would purposely drop things down on the floor just to watch you pick it back up, and those days would usually end up with him either hooking up with someone just to let it out of his system, or just jerk it off alone in his place.

Your juicy ass is going to be the death of him, he would sometimes sneak into the gym at the company just to watch you jog in your tights, satiating his eyes and scratching an itch inside him just to watch it jiggle right before his eyes.

During their tours he would constantly grab your handbag into his hotel room, making an excuse that your handbags look alike even when they aren’t even remotely close to being similar. He would lock the door right away and rummage through your clothes just to fish out all your panties and jerk off to them, one being around his cock and the other one near his nose and lips, sniffing and inhaling whatever is left onto them of your smell, even though they were washed, but he convinced himself that this is how you smell. It was really erotic.

And before you notice your bag missing, he would quickly take pictures of your panties just for him to keep and return them to your bag and switching it out with his. He lost control so many times and “Accidentally” Shot his seed onto your panties, and with the small span of time he had, he had to return them soiled into your handbag.

Which when you discovered it was already dried up, you huffed and the naïve you thought it was the bottle of your conditioner blew up or something, which if you think harder and open your eyes, it was only one soiled panty.

Taehyung had a goal, and growing up not being surrounded by many women in his life, he’s compensating but in an abnormal way, he has hooked up with over half the women who work in your company and it was your turn and he wanted to have you just so he can check your name on the list and tick it done.

“We’re starting in 10 minutes.” The producer announces which snaps Taehyung out of his thoughts. “So did you pack for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, aren’t you excited?” You genuinely ask, you packed up your carry on the night before since you’re all heading to Osaka tomorrow for their tour. You can’t deny you love your job, you get to travel all over the world with them and you even get paid for it. But little do you know, there will be a price you have to pay.

“Oh yeah, even when it’s just for one day but I love Osaka.” He looks behind you and you follow his eyesight to find one of the stylists wearing short shorts that her lower butt cheek was clearly visible to everyone. You look back at Taehyung to see him still glancing at her ass with his head tilted. “Oh my god Taehyung, stop.”

He laughs and takes his phone out. “Come take a look. Her ass didn’t look like that when she was naked.” You debate for a second but you’re human after all and you’re a little curious, you stand next to him and watch him dig through a locked folder on his phone, scrolling up for a good two minutes before he finds the picture.

It was that stylist laying flat on the bed face down, her hand tied behind her back and her bare ass was sore read, clearly spanked and fucked until she passed out. And he was right, her ass didn’t look the same when she was naked. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean that this isn’t wrong.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel better I get their consent before I do anything.” He scrolls up again. “Wanna see something else? Look, this is her.”

He hands you one of his airpods and you put it on, and he starts a video of her down on her knees, her eyes blood red, clearly she was either drunk or high, and she was begging him to slap her on the face with his thumb into her mouth.

“Shit.. Please daddy, please spank me and make me yours.”

“Good girl, are you going to be daddy’s little whore and beg more?”

“Please spank your little whore on the face, it feels so fucking good when you do that, please spank me.”

And he slaps her hard on the cheek enough to make her hair fall on her face, but she immediately looks back at him and begs him to do it again and again and he does. And you can’t help but to notice the tip of his cock showing in the video. “How does getting slapped on the face feel good? I don’t get it.”

“Shh-“ He notices your voice getting a little higher and opens up another video. “You shouldn’t knock it till you try it, every girl I’ve been with said it felt amazing.”

“Do you think you would enjoy getting slapped on the face?” You ask, blinking your eyes a couple of times, he smirks and locks his phone. “I haven’t tried yet, but I’m willing to try it with you if you want to, maybe you can slap me on the face while you’re riding my dick, we’ll see if it feels good.”

Your face flushes at his explicit mentions of sex, you hit him on the arm and turn away from him, packing your kit into the makeup bag and taking a seat finally. And your flushed cheeks are considered as a good sign to him, he’s getting there and he’s slowly sinking his claws in to have you eventually.

The episode they’re filming took them a little over eight hours, you’re already packed and ready to leave and you hesitate actually going down to the parking lot, it’s almost an hour after filming and you’re not sure he’s still in the building or not.

The elevator stops at -1 and you make your way out, the entire floor is near empty and you can only spot around four cars parked around the floor, and all of them seem empty, except for the Genesis Suv that’s parked way back in the corner that flashes it’s lights repeatedly. It’s him.

You make your way there and reach your hand to the door handle and try to open it but it’s locked. Quite a trashy move of him to actually call you over and forget his car locked. You roll your eyes when he unlocks the car and you go inside. “What?”

“What?” He mocks you and locks his car again, “How was your day?”

“Taehyung just make it quick will you? We have a flight to catch tomorrow and I’m nowhere near ready—“ You’re interrupted by him shushing you and grabbing your purse away from you to put in the back seat. He reaches his entire body to the car floor and takes out a little box that’s wrapped in a tiny velvety ribbon. “This is my surprise for you.”

You’re intrigued. Your gaze meets his for a split second before you reject the box. “I can’t take gifts from you.”

He doesn’t even argue as he offers you the box again. “Hey, you don’t have to open it now if you want to.” He puts the box down onto your lap and leans his arm on the middle console. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning and you’ll tell me what you think, deal?”

You’re even more intrigued and you’re getting more curious to actually find out what’s inside, and why would he actually stay after schedule just to hand you this gift? You even shake the box while suspiciously maintaining eye contact with him which makes him smirk. You can only hear one thing clicking in the box and you can’t quite put a finger on it and figure out what it is?

“Alright, whatever. Are you going to drive me to my place or what?” You already put your hand on the door handle ready to leave the car. “No I can’t I’m sorry, I have a place to be, I can get you to the bus stop if you want to.” He just says that out of pity. What a douche.

“No thank you, I’ll walk there.” You squint your eyes before you leave the car, he doesn’t even wait for you to walk out of the building and he drives away fast, he really is a douche.

Public transportation wasn’t a big deal for you anyway, the ride home on the bus was very therapeutic to you, you usually keep your headphones on and listen to an audio book on your way back to clear your mind, or you would usually catch up with your friends on the group chat or something.

Sometimes you would even fall asleep if it was an exhausting day, but on your trip home tonight you were anticipating getting to your studio apartment so much, not that you’re greedy for the gift or anything, but you’re just curious why he so suddenly decided on giving you a gift that actually looks expensive.

You get there after a 40 minute trip and you finally get into your flat, not even taking your shoes off you rush to your couch and put the box down and untie the little dainty velvety ribbon, you take the top of the box off and you only see a few wrapping papers covering what seems to be a clothing item. You take it out and you feel your entire body heat up. It’s a costume.

No no, not any costume, it’s a little too slutty to be an actual costume. It’s a black leather one piece with spaghetti straps, a really low neck line that you know no one’s chest will ever fit in them. Not only that, but a pair of black lace stockings and suspenders, and a choker.

What in hell..

You put them down on the couch beside you and dig deeper into the box to find cat ears headband and a.. What the actual fuck.

A butt plug?

You cannot believe him, you put the blame on yourself for actually listening to him and meeting him up in the parking lot, and you shouldn’t have accepted the gift in the first place, he’s an actual man whore.

You scrunch up the entire outfit in a messy ball and throw it back in the box, before closing it and throwing it near your door on the floor, so you can pick it up and throw it in the trash in the morning.

A mini-van is supposed to collect all the girls up from their places and head to the airport, and of course you’re late. Last night’s sleep was horrendous, you couldn’t stop overthinking about the little trashy gift you got from the trashy man. You cannot believe some girls actually idolize this man.

“Y/N, if we miss the flight we have to book one ourselves.” Mira shouts as you hurriedly close your carry on and struggle to put on your pair of sneakers. You look at the trash near your door and sigh. “Damn it. I have to take the trash out.”

“Nope, you’re not taking anything out, I’m not willing to pay anything extra for the job I cannot stand.” She’s slowly losing her patience and so are you. You forget about the trash and get out of your place and lock your door.

The moment you get to the airport it’s already chaotic. Their schedule has been up since last week to the public and their fans know that they’re going out for tour, so they’re waiting there to hand them gifts and handmade letters. Again you cannot believe the image he shows to people of him when you know his true personality.

And boy was he good at faking an entire persona, you have no idea what girls think of him but fuck he’s nowhere near how girls imagine him. A trashy human being that you could swear reeks like sex the entire time. He looks like he woke up with a hangover so you guess he was probably with someone last night and he was onto something.

He notices your existence amid all the chaos when you all get up to the lounge to have your breakfast even when you could’ve waited to get to Japan to eat, the trip wasn’t that far away. You grab yourself a cup of coffee and stack up food on your plate, you know you won’t have the time to eat later so you decide on fueling up early today.

“Good morning.” He puts his coffee down on the same table you’re sitting around and you sigh before looking around. Relax Y/N, you cannot make a scene.

“Good morning.” You proceed on eating, you cannot let him ruin your morning this quickly.

“So, what do you think?” He crosses his legs and tilts his head towards you. “The moment I saw the costume I knew I had to buy it for you.”

“Mhm, truly says a lot about your character, a trashy gift from someone like you.” You don’t beat around the bush. He laughs and leans towards you to whisper. “Please tell me you got it in your luggage.”

“Nope, I’m getting rid of it—“

He shrugs right away. “Then I’ll buy you another one.”

A moment of silence fills the air when your gaze meets his for a couple seconds, he pulls his chair closer to yours and takes his phone out which makes you whine. You know he’s going to show you more of his kinky NSFW content and it’s really uncomfortable for you to watch it. “Look, I don’t know how I can explain this better for you, but trust me. It is okay for things like that to happen in this field.”

“Just because everyone’s doing it doesn’t mean it’s right.” There you go, a girl with standards.

“I swear it is okay.” He pulls his chair even closer and now his shoulder is rubbing against yours when he whispers. “Y/N baby, us men are totally different. You girls can go around without sex for ages and you won’t even care. But men have this sexual energy that they need to let out one way or another.”

This is really disgusting.

“And people like us need to be careful on who to hook up with, and you girls are the safest because we work together.” He shrugs. “Not only us, every idol in the country has to do so.”

Of course it’s partially right, but you’re genuinely confused on why wouldn’t he just get a girlfriend instead of bitching around with plenty of women.

“You know, the idea itself is not that acceptable, but I can understand. But why do you film them? For the love of god you have an entire folder on your phone dedicated to this content. I mean, why do you have to film them when you have them right there in front of you?”

“Good question.” He nods. “You know how some people try and discover themselves, they sometimes dig around here and there trying to find out what actually turns them on, and you know they try and discover their preferences?”

“Are you trying to mansplain what kinks are?” You proceed on eating. “So is that your kink? You like filming women?”

“It’s more fun than the actual thing to me. And the times I made myself cum to the videos I created are countless. It’s fucking sexy.” He grits on his teeth and puts an arm around your chair. You’re getting uncomfortable with him not leaving you enough amount of personal space. “I love watching them looking at the camera and begging to be fucked and just submit to me.”

“And they’re all okay with being filmed?” You ask him and he nods right away. “Now they know what I like, and now they ask me to film them. What about you?”

“No, I’m good thank you.” You answer right away and put down your fork when you’ve fully wiped your plate clean.

“No, I mean what kinks do you have? Have you tried discovering what your preferences are?” He asks, twirling a strand of your hair in his hand, you can feel his breath against your ear when he whispers. “What was it like being fucked the first time?”

It takes you a moment to answer but you eventually do. “I don’t remember what it was like, it was long ago, but I don’t recall it being fun.”

“First time is always awkward.” He nods. “What about the second time?”

You shrug one shoulder and cross your arms. “I don’t think of sex the way you do. I mean I’ve had sex multiple times with different partners, but I think it’s a little overrated.”

“Overrated?” He’s offended. His hand sits on his chest. “You think sex is overrated?”

“Okay chill.” You get up on your feet to refill your coffee and he follows you. “I just don’t find it as fun and as pleasuring as people claim it is.”

“It’s because you haven’t had it with the right person.” He defends right away. “Oh my god did you even cum before?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, maybe.”

He’s interrupted by your gate opening, their carryon luggage is carried and already loaded inside and the rest of the staff is starting to board. “This isn’t finished yet. I’ll see you when we get to our hotel.”

“Whatever Taehyung, don’t make a big deal out of this.” You push him away to grab your bag and get in line. “It is a big deal.” He argues one last time and gets in line and boards the plane.

You have no idea what went through you, but the entire flight you were rethinking your conversation with him and you find yourself slowly getting convinced about the idea generally. You really surprised yourself when you hum out loud, thinking that you are getting curious to try and spend one night with him.

Do girls actually want to sleep with him because he’s good? Or because he’s an idol and that’s like literally a fetish to some people.

You cannot deny he’s really good looking, he’s really charming on camera but even the camera doesn’t do him any justice, he was perfectly sculpted in real life and way more attractive than people think. But it’s just his recurrent sexual behavior that’s been setting you off. You find yourself cringing.

The entire plane has been booked for Bangtan and their staff. Them with their managers, security, filming staff, directors, producers, engineers, stylists and makeup artists of course, editors. Everyone on this plane knew each other.

It was a little noisy to begin with since some are catching up and some are chatting, so you put your earphones on the entire flight, and right when your third song on your playlist ended and the fourth one is about to start, you over hear the girls behind you.

“You need to cover for me when we get there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can barely stand on my feet, and I’m really sore from last night.”

“Who did you spend the night with? I thought you were inviting me.”

“Taehyung and Jungkook. I passed out at the end.”

“You’re kidding.”

So it is normal for girls to actually sleep with them and go around telling their friends like it’s totally okay. It’s starting to feel like a whore house, and it probably is.

You peak your head to look towards Jungkook and Taehyung, both of them are sleeping and even snoring. Of course they’re tired when they spend the previous night with the same girl. This is so fucked up.

Not long after you all get to the hotel to spend the only free hour you get before your day starts and you all head to the stadium for rehearsals. You’re surprised that the entire hotel is booked for the staff too and you luckily get your own room with one single bed, but who are you to complain? You always hated having roommates, so one bed is way better than having a roommate.

Right when you’re about to close the door a foot stops it from moving any further which startles you for a second before you open the door again. Of course it’s him, who’s been digging deep and moving around asking stylists which room you got. “Oh come on.” You whine.

“Can I come in?” He so politely and innocently asks, for a second you’d doubt he’s the same person who showed you an entire folder of girls begging him to do stuff to them. He doesn’t even step a foot further inside your room before you huff and roll your eyes. “Come in.”

He takes one last look to the corridor and walks in, the door automatically locking when it closes.

“What’s up?” You act occupied as you take out your skin care products to put onto the dresser. He plops down onto your bed and grabs the pillow to put under his head. “We have unfinished business.”

“Taehyung, don’t you take no for an answer?” You don’t even spare him a glance.

“Hey, If it makes you feel any better, I’m your friend and colleague, we’re around the same age, consider this as a friend helping another friend.” He shrugs and talks as if it’s that easy. “And if it makes you comfortable, I’m not filming you if you don’t want to.”

“Oh yeah, because filming me was the only problem.” You turn your head to the little coffee machine in the corner of your room and make yourself a cup, he doesn’t argue back which makes you wonder why, you turn your head and he’s literally digging into your handbag and taking out one of your bras.

“Kim fucking Taehyung.” You snatch your bra away from him. “Get out.”

“I knew you were a C cup.” He gets up onto his feet. “Look, I’m sorry if this made you uncomfortable, but I don’t know why you’re really over thinking it. It’s just a one time thing, we hook up and that’s it, no one has to even know.”

“You could easily lure any woman into bed and we both know it, but snatching away my bra and showing me your stupid kink and shit won’t get me into bed with you.” You put your bra back into your handbag and close it.

“Then tell me how.” He puts his hand into his pockets. “What could get Y/N to sleep with me?”

“Exactly, and it’s nothing, nothing could get me to sleep with you Taehyung, this is fucked up.”

“Money? How much and I’ll give it to you cash, right now.”

The audacity on this man.

“Oh my god, you’re making it even worse if you can’t tell. Get out.” You open the door to your room.

He huffs and walks towards the door to shut it again. “Okay, look, I’m sorry if this offended you I didn’t mean so. But again why are you rejecting it? Millions of women want to be in your place.”

“Yeah, I know, and I’m not one of those millions. Besides, how am I supposed to look at you again if we ever slept together?” You cross your arms.

“Like you’ve always looked at me.” He pouts. “Nothing will change, no strings attached, it’s just one night, is it my fault that I really want you to enjoy one night?”

You open the door again and look him in the eye, your coffee is already gone cold and you’re over this argument. He closes the door again and tugs your hair behind your ear, whispering softly. “Y/N.. I feel like you’re different, you’re nothing like other girls, you’re a really nice, sweet and attractive young lady that deserves to feel like a woman.”

It’s a little alarming to you that with such small physical contact with him could make you think about it seriously.

There’s nothing to lose, you’re a woman after all and you have your needs.

He promised you one night, no strings attached, and apparently he’s really good and he knows what he’s doing.

“Don’t you think you deserve to have at least one night of mind blowing sex?” He grins and grazes the back of his hand against your cheek. “We’re flying back to Seoul tomorrow night, I’ll give you enough time to think, and maybe I can have your phone number or something, we could stay in contact and probably discuss things while keeping it on the low key.”

“Discuss?” You squint your eyes.

“Yeah, we could talk, tell me what you like and how you like it, you know, stuff like that.” He elaborates, you sigh and look him in the eyes. “What if we happen to like different things?”

“Then I’m willing to let go of the things that I like just for your sake.” He crosses his fingers. “I’m a good boy I promise.”

“Fine.” You can’t believe yourself. You take your phone out of your back pocket and proceed to add him to your contacts, a satisfied smile lingers on his face and he even leans forward to print a kiss to your cheek. He’s totally buttering up his bread and he thinks he can get you to agree to this faster, but you’re smarter than him.

“You’re crossing the lines Taehyung.”

“Who cares about the damn lines, if we agree to this I’ll be kissing other things and you’ll want me to.” He opens the door to your room and walks out. “I’ll see you around.”

And indeed. After your one hour free time you all headed to the stadium for rehearsals, the concert was happening tomorrow but everyone needed orientation around the place.

During the entire day he never brought it up, neither look at you like he has been recently, he kept it professional with you in front of everyone and never spoke about it like it never happened.

You were scheduled to leave the stadium at around 11 in the evening, the girls decided on going out for dinner but you skipped, you had multiple coffees during your day and you don’t feel physically well, so you just head back to your hotel and take the elevator up to your room.

You gasp when you see him about to take the elevator and go down, you barely recognize him when he has a cap and a face mask on. “Oh, hey Y/N.” He so casually speaks.

“Hey, you’re going out?” Why did you even ask. He laughs softly and shakes his head. “No, I’m going downstairs to grab a bite from the buffet, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you going out?”

“I’m a little tired, I guess I’ll just go to sleep or something.” It feels like you’re talking to the Taehyung you’ve always known for the past years, nothing feels different so far.

He looks at the time on his wrist and looks back at you. “If you want to, I’ll grab something to eat quickly and come hang out with you, maybe we can talk about that thing.”

Yup, never mind.

“I think I’d rather sleep.” You walk out of the elevator and he walks in instead. “Come on, 10 minutes max, I won’t be late.”

You shouldn’t have asked him anything in the first place.

“You know, I don’t think it would be a good idea if you and I stayed alone in one room.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to spice things up, we’re just hanging out discussing things, like other colleagues do.” He presses the button on the elevator. “I’ll see you later.”

And the elevator door closes before you could even shoo him away for the evening. He’s just going to come up to your room later and you know he’ll force himself inside.

You click the key card to your room and immediately change to your pajamas, you even turn off the lights and hope he thinks you’re asleep by the time he knocks at your door.

Thankfully time passed by and he never knocked. But instead he went back to his room and decided to text you.

1:54 | KTH:

Couldn’t come by sorry

1:54 | KTH:

Are you still awake?

1:54 | KTH

Wanna come over to my room 😉

KTH sent a photo

KTH sent a video

Of course he can see your read receipts, he knows you’re awake and he even lured you further into the conversation by sending you a photo and a video that you rush to open.

He’s not exactly there in the photo, the picture is taken of his TV turned on and he’s under the blanket, you can only see his covered legs from above the blanket, nothing too special.

The video is what makes your ears buzz, you find yourself pressing your thighs closer to each other, when he palms what seems to be his erection from above the blanket, and holy fuck was he big or were you hallucinating. You turn the volume up and you can hear his breath changing with every stroke of his cock. He inserts his hand under the blanket and strokes his cock before flipping the camera to his face and smiling like nothing happened.

Luckily that video is on replay, so it keeps replaying on its own unless you swipe it away, you don’t know what possesses you, you put your phone down against the used coffee cup from earlier and pull your pants down, your hand travels down to your folds and you touch yourself, delivering circular continues rubs to your clit and teasing your entrance with your middle and ring finger.

You spit onto your fingers and move further down again to rub your clit faster this time, your shoulders tensing and your hand already growing tired. It always takes you so long to get to your edge and you need a stimulant more than just a stupid photo or a video. Your other hand moves to grab your breasts out of your top and you pinch your nipple and squeeze onto your flesh. “Mmm.” Your eyes are piercing through your phone screen but your stupid screen saver decides on locking your phone which makes you whine desperately. “Ugh.” You grab your phone and unlock it, of course the video is gone.

2:03 | KTH:

Like what you see?

Has it been 9 minutes already?

Your fingers rush to type on the screen.

2:03 | You:

🙄

2:04 | You:

Mister kim is spending a night alone how weird

2:04 | KTH:

Mister Kim?

2:04 | KTH:

You can keep calling me mister kim if you want to 😉

You bite onto your fingernails, wanting to send a risky text but you’re so unsure. Your fingers hover over the screen and you proceed to type, but quickly delete what you wrote.

2:05 | KTH:

Want me to send you more? Maybe you can send me some

And of course this is off the table, you’re not going to send him nudes not because you’re against sending them generally, but you’re against sending nudes to him. Your pictures may end up in a folder on his phone like any other woman.

2:06 | You:

Goodnight.

Taehyung has been dealing with women like you for years now, he can see and expect any behavior that you may project and this is one of these situations. You sending him goodnight didn’t quite literally mean goodnight. He knows you want this to happen but you’re still in denial and you don’t know that yourself.

So of course, without thinking twice, he opens the camera on his phone and this time pulls the blanket down a little just to reveal the tip of his cock that’s pressed against his stomach. He grabs the massage oil to pump some onto his long fingers and strokes his angry dick again.

The man has been with so many women that he built a stamina that no regular woman can take, he can go for hours and women even beg him to cum just so they can rest, he was animalistic and it was out of this world, hence women actually passing out when sleeping with him. Stroking his cock alone won’t get him to his end and he could easily calm his erection without having to cum, the self control on this man is incredible.

He touches the red circle on his phone screen and starts filming, clearly teasing you and showing you only the tip, his cock all glistening from the massage oil. It was quiet around his hotel room, and the only thing that’s heard in the video is the sound of stroking heard clearly when it’s this slippery, and the sounds he was unbelievably good at faking, little whimpers and moans, his breath hitching and even swear words escaping his lips. “Fuck.. Mm, Y/N, this is all for you.”

The video was sent to you, and you don’t hesitate to open it, this time actually positioning yourself on the bed and grabbing out one of the thickest makeup brushes you have on hand, wetting it with your mouth and slowly teasing your entrance before pushing it inside. The video starts and your fingers abruptly move to turn up the volume. Your body instantly heats up and reacts upon the sounds you hear, and holy fuck you can clearly see the tip, and it looks fucking edible at this moment.

You cannot believe this is happening and you feel your face even heating up, is it embarrassment? You can’t tell, it may be embarrassment but hey you’re not the one sending nudes he is. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Well except the fact that you’re masturbating to a video of him.

You hear your name and in a click of a button, your stomach tightens and your back arches, your hand moves faster to insert the back of the makeup brush further inside your thirsty pussy as you chase your orgasm. Even when the brush was cold and it practically didn’t feel like skin nor had the size of an actual dick but it was enough for you to let go.

Your chest heaves and your legs shut tightly around your hand and the video still plays on your phone that’s still nesting in your other hand, your eyes locked onto the screen afraid that you can’t see the same shot anymore when you swipe away.

The last bit of self control of you finally washes into your body and you swipe away, you can’t deny you immediately regret but you had to swipe away at some point.

2:35 | KTH:

I thought I’d hear u cum but I didn’t L

Your body stiffens and you immediately get up onto your feet, the makeup brush slips out of your vagina down onto the floor and you rush to see through the peephole and immediately cover your mouth with your hand when you see him standing there on his phone, leaned against your door and still texting you. Your hand that’s holding your phone is leaned against the door so with every text he send it vibrates and the entire door vibrates with it which makes him look at the peephole from his side.

And holy fuck at this point you’re terrified. Luckily your room is dark and he can’t see anything, but he knows you’re watching him. You rush to grab your pants and put them back on and get under your blanket. As if he’s going to open the door at any second and hurt you.

You shut your eyes tightly trying to avoid looking at your phone screen but you eventually do.

2:38 | KTH:

Sent you 9 messages.

The door to your room knocks and you actually gasp, covering your mouth again but the entire floor was so quiet and empty that if a needle fell everyone would hear it.

You get up onto your feet and put on a jacket to cover yourself even when your pajama wasn’t revealing at all, you just put your jacket on for protection. You look through the peephole one last time before you open up and he almost stumbles because he leaned his entire body weight against the door. “Hey, I thought you’d never open.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” You hug your jacket closer to your chest and cross your arms, “What’s up?” He asks with a smirk on his face as he walks inside your room and closes the door behind him, “So what did it feel like?”

“Hmm?” You open the mini fridge and grab water out for yourself to take a few sips. He chuckles and puts his hands into his pockets. “Y/N baby, I know your body more than you do. Your face has the afterglow and you’re not breathing regularly, and your lips are blood red. What did it feel like when you made yourself cum to the video?”

“Taehyung I—“

“What did you like the most? The sounds or your name actually being called when I’m jerking off to you?” He plops down on your bed and throws his phone down on the nightstand.

“I’m not breathing regularly because you’re over here past midnight spying on my door.” You sit across the room, maintaining a good amount of space between you two. “And please don’t call me baby, I’m not your baby.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs. “We’re just chatting, trust me I’m not going to touch you if you don’t give me your consent I promise, besides I-- Hey, what’s that?”

His eyes land on the makeup brush that’s dropped down onto your floor, and the glistening tip is what caught his attention. “What do you mean, this is a makeup brush.” You rush to stand up and run towards it but he’s faster than you are, he picks it up from the floor and a smirk sits on his face, fuck he even grabs it closer to smell it and he knows what this smell is. But yours was sweeter and truly different from other smells.

“Would you look at that.” He scoffs. “A makeup brush? Really?”

“Stop.” You bite onto your own teeth and you approach him to snatch it away, but again he’s faster. He licks the tip of the brush once and smacks his tongue into his mouth before swallowing. “Mm.”

Your entire body freezes when you watch him savor it, he licks the tip of the brush clean with his eyes closed, you thought your body would react to it but none, you’re standing there stiff right before him when he gets up onto his feet. He opens his eyelids and his gaze meets yours, his pair of tight sleepy eyes gazing right through yours. “You taste heavenly.” He grabs your hand and puts the brush into it before leaving your room and closing the door behind him. The second you hear the auto lock on the door you drop down to your bed with the brush in your hand.

Trails of his saliva are visible on the end of it and you cannot help but pull it closer to your mouth and lick it after him. You’re fucked.

You wake up the morning after wishing you could forget what happened last night. You’re pretty sure you’re embarrassed and ashamed at the fact that you got caught. You didn’t want this to happen to begin with, how are you supposed to look at him when you have to spend the entire day with him?

You pack your handbag and hand it to the hotel staff, you’re going straight from the stadium to the airport so you had to be ready and they took your bag to load the bus with the rest of the luggage.

“I don’t get it, we left the hotel at the same time, he’s supposed to be here.” Mira whines. The entire staff was ready and he wasn’t there yet. “The sound check is in less than an hour—“

“We know the schedule Mira, please just Shush.” You woke up on the wrong side of the bed and you weren’t ready to hear any whining, “Yeah Mira. I’m here give yourself a break.” Taehyung walks from behind you and gets seated onto the chair. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Mira alone responds and proceeds to blow dry his hair while you take out your kit and completely ignore the man seated on the chair in front of you.

He’s trying to look at you sneakily but he’s keeping his promise, no one is going to know anything so he’s not going to be doing anything suspicious to the rest of the staff. “Are you feeling better today?” He asks politely.

“Me?” You point to yourself unsure if he’s talking to you, and he blinks his eyes in a “Yes.” Before speaking. “You weren’t feeling well when I saw you in the elevator last night.”

“Yeah, she didn’t join us for dinner, are you feeling well?” Leah asks while she’s working on Seokjin’s hair.

“Oh yes, I went to bed early and I’m doing well today.” You force a smile on your face and grab out the little bag that had all your makeup brushes. That brush is the first thing you see when you open the tiny purse and it reminds you in case you forgot, that you were caught masturbation last night.

“You can start Y/N. I need to get a new bottle of hairspray from downstairs.” Mira puts her stuff down and walks away leaving you to work on Taehyung’s face.

“Can I ask you something?” He looks around before whispering and you answer him right away. “Nope.” Which makes him pout. You roll your eyes and start dabbing primer onto his face. “What do you want?”

“Did you really throw away the thing I got you?”

“Well, I’m planning to.” You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, he shrugs and whispers. “What you did yesterday would feel ten times better if you actually use the gift.”

“I don’t do butt stuff Taehyung.” You argue right away, still low enough for only you two to hear. He looks at you while squinting his eyes. “Who said anything about butt stuff?”

“You sent me a butt plug, don’t try and act oblivious, the gift didn’t send itself.” You grab his chin to throw his head back. “Silly, it wasn’t a butt plug, it was a vibrator.”

His face is right there you can easily slap him and make a scene, it’ll cost you your job but who cares.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He scoffs. “Text me when you get home tonight I’ll show you how to use it.”

“I know how a vibrator works Taehyung thank you. Now would you stop moving I can’t blend the concealer well.” You try hard to change the topic, but the idiot grabs your purse of makeup brushes and takes out that brush and hands it to you. “Here, I think this one will do.”

Your gaze meets his for a couple seconds before he looks down at your lips and bites his own, totally imagining your lips swollen from all the kissing, the picture of you choking onto his dick that he drew in his head is now chasing him whenever he lays his eyes onto you.

Maybe you being mean to him made him actually want to have you more than before, you’re unlike them, other girls from your staff didn’t even think twice before hooking up with him. But you being a tough cookie made him ready to beg just to be with you even if it was just once.

#bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x y/n #kim taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x oc

744 notes · View notes

ravenna-reid · 4 months

Text

Your Demons Know Mine

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Canon typical violence and revisiting some of Jason's trauma

It was safe to say you and Jason got off to a rocky start. Even after all these months of fighting and investigating together, the two of you get along as well as oil and water.

It all began when Batman had interrupted you one night during patrol. The conversation wasn't really a welcome to Gotham and the vigilante life, nor was it a complete interrogation. But over time, he ended up warming up to you. A little. If that's what you could call it. And you got the idea that he wanted you to join him and his 'team.'

Initially, you were confused beyond hell as to why he came to you. But Huntress told you it was probably because Batman didn't like anything he couldn't control or at least keep an eye on in Gotham.

You gave a nod, turning over everything she'd told you about the Dark Knight in your head. "Interesting."

So working with the Bats here and there wasn't so bad, as long as you followed one very important rule. Amongst others. Obviously, you couldn't try and discover anyones secret identity or jeopardise their safety, but more importantly, you were never to take a life. You considered this, then agreed to his terms.

"No murder, got it." He didn't seem completely convinced, but you weren't about to piss off Batman. And so you began helping out the other 'bats.'

Nightwing, the Robins, Orphan, you name it.

And that's when you met the 6 foot something tank of a man that was Red Hood. Tall, intimidating and pretty aloof, the two of you soon clashed.

He was aggressive and rather impulsive at times, and you couldn't understand why he had to make such a mess during patrol. He made it pretty obvious that he didn't enjoy your covert tactics, never giving you the chance to prove your trustworthiness as a partner, which really pissed you off. One day he made a quip about how cunning you were. You scoffed.

"Sorry, let me just go grab a page from your book and buy a semi-automatic."

He gave a humourless laugh before turning to face you.

"What should I do first?" You mocked, hand on chin in thought, "Shoot up a building or just bash the criminals with it?"

Then he was only inches before you, figure looming over yours as he peered down. "Should I be sly like you? At least I don't pull the wool over people's eyes."

The tension was thick. Real. Suffocating. You couldn't see his eyes, but you could imagine the glare behind that insufferable red helmet.

The worst part was, even though you've never seen his face, you just knew he was handsome. He was probably drop dead gorgeous the asshole. Tall, sculpted, there have even been times when you caught him slipping that helmet back on, catching glimpses of his dark hair. And he was awfully protective of everyone, especially the innocent. But he was still a brash asshole.

This continued on, and it was soon pretty obvious to the rest how you two viewed each other. And you were sure the Bats were pulling your leg, because now you were on a mission with Red Hood.

"Are you kidding me." You murmured to yourself. But you nodded along and took in everything Oracle told you guys. Luckily you wouldn't be completely alone with him, given Nightwing would be in the area.

He gave you a nudge before whispering, "Maybe this will help you two to finally get along."

No comment from you.

Once the meeting was finished, you waved goodbye to Red Robin, Nightwing and Orphan and sauntered out of the cave. Hood lifted his leg over his motorbike before watching you head towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" He asked, already sounding like he was done with your shit.

"I have a license Red. Meet you there." Then you disappeared into the darkness before an engine roared to life. A single headlight lit up the entrance to the Batcave, and he was a little surprised to see you on your own motorbike. His gaze brushed over your usual braid as it fell down your back. Then you turned and rode off into the distance.

You took off down the backroads and short cuts before you made it to the location Oracle sent you.

A secret lab.

A secret lab the company you work for owned.

For the past few weeks, you'd been picking up the suspicious activity occurring at work between those higher up and began investigating. They were trying to create something illegal. Sell it to big time criminals for a chunk of money. It was some sort of chemical warfare plan and you had to act on it fast. So you were kind relieved to find Batman was onto it now, since you would most defiantly found out what's going on tonight.

Hacking into the system once again, you were able to find tip of the ice berg information, such as the guards time table. There were only two guards on tonight at this odd warehouse, so your plan was simple.

You'd set up your little tear gas traps in front of the breaker box. Once you cut the electricity, they'd head to the box to figure out what the problem was, and then you'd attack.

You couldn't believe how well the plan was working. Thank the Lord you decided to become a Chemist and knew what chemicals to mix and use.

The guard triggered the small bomb, releasing tear gas into the air that began to eat away at his eyes. Quickly slipping your hands into the pouches attached to the side of your belt, you manoeuvred your hands into your chloroform gloves before rushing behind him. With the burning sensation in his eyes, your legs restricting his arm movement and chloroform soaked gloves over his nose and mouth, he was out in seconds.

You slipped away from him and began down the hall towards where the second guard was until you heard a whack. There were sounds of struggles, grunts and heavy thuds. You froze and pressed yourself against the wall, a confused frown on your face. "What on Earth?"

Someone hit the ground hard.

"Scumbag." A voice bellowed.

You immediately rolled your eyes. Turning the corner, you were met with Red Hood with his bloody hands and the guard knocked out on the floor. He took you in; your dripping gloves and that bewildered look in your eyes.

"Sorry princess, was this too much for you?" He asked, gesturing to the guards crumpled form.

"Let's just get on with it." You snapped back, removing your gloves and tossing them back into their pouches. You eyed the guns strapped to his thighs, thankful he hadn't used them...yet.

"You handled the other guard?" He asked, falling into step behind you.

"Mhm. Hence the gloves."

"Right, your little poisons and what not."

You soon came to the door of the lab room Oracle needed you guys to break into. Using the information you'd found whilst investigating, you lifted your goggles from your eyes and went through various passcodes.

You were curious as to what you'd find in there. Jason was curious about how you knew what pins to sift through, watching you from behind as your fingers danced along the key pad. "You only get three attempts you know."

"I know." Third times a charm, because the door suddenly gave a hiss before slowly opening.

You both entered the cold, dark room, but not before something grabbed your arm and pulled you in. You turned on your heel only to find Red right behind you. His hold was a lot softer than you thought it would be. "What are you-"

"How did you know the pins? Oracle didn't even have that information?"

He tried to focus. He really did. But your mask only covered the bottom half of your face, and with your goggles sitting on your forehead, those eyes of yours were sending him into a coma.

"Because I'm familiar with this company." You spat back, a little taken aback. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

"Like hell I trust you."

At the mere mention of it, Jason felt something heavy in his stomach. Why did that statement effect him? Why didn't he like saying it?

"You're with them, aren't you?" He asked, voice low as he desperately ignored the guilt that began to stir deep down. Because the paranoia was just as strong.

"What?"

"You must know what they're doing. What, are you tryna lure us in?"

"Get the fuck outta here Red. You can't be serious-"

Before you could finish what you're saying, something flashed behind him. A figure. A crow bar.

"Red, move!" Using all your strength, you gripped onto his arms and tried to shove him out the way before the crow bar swung, the end of it just hitting your arm.

You let out a pained yell and quickly tumble away from the attacker, hand gripped around your aching forearm.

Jason didn't hesitate, instantly lunging towards the figure. Ignoring the pain in your arm you got into your fighting stance before someone else caught your eye. Someone to your side. Another man covered in black launched towards you, sword in hand.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you ducked out of the way. Swiftly, you slipped under one of the tables and came out on the other side. Draws surrounded you and you quickly yanked one open. It was filled with bottles of half used chemicals and jars filled with...alkali metals. Your eyes practically lit up when you saw them. You grabbed the potassium jar, and just as he made his way around the lab table, you turned the tap of the sink on and chucked the plethora of metals inside it. Next thing you knew, an explosion as loud as thunder went off, smoke decorating the air as he ran straight into it.

Your ears began to ring and a coughing attack creeped up on you, but you could only imagine how he was feeling. Slipping your knuckle busters over your fingers, you began to throw hits. It's not really your forte though, so once he was on his knees, you pulled the cloth from one of your pouches and wrapped it around his head, holding it there with all your strength. He went out like a light.

As you disregarded his body, you turned to see Jason was now fighting two men. You caught him quickly looking over at you before realising his guns were somehow tossed across the room during the fight. Now he was relying heavily on his fists, and that might have been even scarier. He was quick and concise, strong with his hits, and it was obvious he wasn't holding back. The second man went down hard, his face bloody and bruised. The first attacker, however, was swinging that crow bar like his life depended on it. And suddenly you noticed the Hood falter. You quickly raced to Red Hood's side.

Already mixed with such sickening anxiety and adrenaline from the use of the crow bar against him, that panic suddenly grew ten fold once he realised you were coming to help him.

"No!" His voice was laced with desperation, completely foreign to the Red Hood you knew. His large arm came up and suddenly pushed you back. And as he did so, the curved end of the crow bar collided with the side of his helmet. The force broke it, separating the bright red so that you could see one of his eyes and half of his domino mask.

Jason was stunned. He was back in that warehouse with the clown.

"I'm gonna beat you until you're unrecognisable."

Those words sent a shiver down Jason's spine. Why, when he was so much taller than the man, was he suddenly feeling so small?

You saw Red's eye, and the fear that flashed across it. You couldn't understand what it was that was getting under his skin, but it hit you hard in the chest. Because you knew that look all too well.

Eager with determination, you slipped your daggers into your hands and got ready to take out this asshole, when suddenly Hood tackled him to the ground. But it wasn't Red's usual tactic or fighting style. No...this was animalistic. In seconds, Jason had the man pinned to the ground and the crow bar in his hand.

You hadn't realised Nightwing was yelling in your ear, that he could hear what was happening through the comms. Shit, you completely blanked out.

"Hood? [Vigilante name]? What's going on??" Nightwing urged.

But you couldn't respond, because Red Hood was now beating the life out of the man before you. It was violent. Confronting. Harrowing. You knew he was violent, weren't we all? But not like this...

This was the product of something deeper. Something horrible imbedded into Red Hood.

"Red..." Your voice was too quiet, travelling right over his head. But each blow was becoming worse as Jason got lost in his thoughts and fears. Got lost in the past. So this time you yelled out.

"Red Hood! That's enough!"

He kept going though. It wasn't until the harrowing echo of a gunshot ringing through the room that he stopped. Jason snapped his head over his shoulder to look back at you. You stood there, grimace evident on your face even with your mask on, with one of his guns in your hold and aimed at the ceiling.

"That's enough! We gotta go!"

A deer in headlights. Jason stared back at you, the one eye you could see glassy and absent. You lowered the hand gripping onto that awful weapon he treasured so much. You never touched a gun, and you hoped you'd never have to touch one again.

Creeping towards him, you surely, gingerly slipped the crow bar out of his hold. He flinched, his muscles tensing as he watched you. Nerves ran through your body as you slowed down your movements. You tossed the crow bar to the side before crouching down to his eyes level.

A part of you felt sickly relatable to him. Like you were staring at an older version of yourself.

"Come on," you urged. "I know where the files are. Let me grab them and we can go."

Jason slowly came to again, giving a nod in response. You left to search for the folder and Jason's eyes trailed down to the man beneath him, his breath slow and laboured. So many emotions were coursing through Jason. Rage, hate, fear. He looked over to you as he got to his feet, thankful that you were here. But also resentful that you were. That you had to see that side of him.

Nightwing and the others talked through the comms, evidently worried about you and Red, and Jason could only imagine the shit show he'd have to face when he got back to the Batcave.

You quickly walked back to him, thick folder in hand.

"Alright, let's go Red." Your heart was still pounding in your ears as you rushed past him. But he didn't follow. You turned to look back at him; a man so vicious and large, and yet all you saw was someone who was broken. "Red, what's wrong?"

His deadset stare was back, the mask was back up, but his voice was soft. "You hate using guns..."

part two ya'll? lmk in the comments <3

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd angst #red hood angst #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #angst #dc comics #dc universe #dcu

255 notes · View notes

btsugarush · 1 year

Text

GANGSTA | myg - 002

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni

word count: 3K

author’s note: sorry if you asked to be on the taglist and didn’t make it. i’ve reached over 50 and couldn’t add anymore people. i’ll add more of you in the comments.

“I’m glad you’re okay after all of that,” Jungkook says on the other end of your phone; you had just spilled about the chaotic situation at Makoto as it was still weighing heavily on your mind. You couldn’t shake what Jimin had said about that Yoongi guy killing someone, though it could have just been a rumor. If he had actually taken someone’s life there would be no way they would allow him to walk the streets. He’d be too much of a flight risk.

“You should really be careful in the future. I know you like to stand up for people that can’t stand up for themselves, but Yoongi is bad news. There’s no telling what he would’ve done to you on the wrong day.”

“So you know him too?” You quiz. It seemed as though everyone knew who this guy was besides you. Maybe you don’t get out enough. Or maybe you were just good at staying away from trouble– until this afternoon at least. “I know of him, but not personally. He came to the shop once like five months ago with the same tall guy you were talking about. He told my coworker Si-Woo to step outside, and the next thing you know he's pistol-whipping him nearly to death. Rumor around the shop was that Si-Woo sold drugs for Yoongi, and owed him a lot of money.”

“Really?” Your mouth drops in shock. “What did Si-Woo say about it?”

“He never talked about it, ended up quitting the next day, and told us ‘not to get the police involved because it wouldn’t be of any help and it was all just a misunderstanding’.” He quoted. “Well, three days later Si-Woo’s body was found hacked to pieces and stuffed in a suitcase behind an alley on Gongdan lane.”

You heard about that case on the news some time ago, but had no clue that Jungkook knew the victim on an intimate level. It honestly made you shiver a bit. Imagine being the one to discover the body, and how gruesome the sight must have been. Stuff like that was common in slum areas though. Crime was especially high in Gongdan lane of all places, which is why you made sure to never venture in that area. “You think Yoongi had something to do with his murder?”

Jungkook scoffed. “The guy was viciously pistol-whipping him three days before his body was identified. I know he had something to do with it, but none of us were willing to risk going to the cops, so we just moved on like it didn’t happen.” Jungkook pauses for a moment before he speaks again. “You know… sometimes I think that maybe we could’ve saved his life if we did report the incident. Sometimes I still look at his station and feel like he’s there, tattooing.” He sighs heavily, like it was a great weight lifted from his shoulders to even tell you.

“You did what you felt was necessary. As fucked up as it may seem, you had to think about what was best for you.” You try your best to comfort him as he seemed to hold on to a lot of guilt regarding Si-Woo’s death, and reminiscing didn’t help. To have the man who could have potentially murdered your friend roaming free to terrorize all of Daegu couldn’t be a great feeling. You felt for him.

“I know. It’s just fucked to know he went through such a fucked up death. I don’t even want to imagine how scared he must’ve been,” you could hear clanking on the other end, as though he was biting down on his lip piercing. “I don’t even like the thought of knowing you tangled with them. He seems the type to hold grudges, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I’d lose my shit and go after him myself.”

You smile softly. “And I just know you’d kick his ass, my tough Kookie.” You both laugh at the nickname, which is one of many you had with the word ‘cookie’ in it. You could be so cheesy sometimes, but Jungkook loved everything about it. “You don’t have to worry though, apparently he likes me so maybe I’m in the clear?” You say unsuringly, still not understanding what he meant by it. It was very abrupt and cryptic. “Well whatever he meant, he’s out of luck because you’re spoken for.”

“As if he’d ever had a chance to begin with, I don’t think I’d mesh well with a criminal,” You chuckled. “I’m more into sweet, sensitive guys with tattoos and piercings.”

“Yeah? I think I know someone like that.” You could tell that he’s cheesing on the other end, which made you cheese. Everything always felt so natural with Jungkook. Him being your best friend in high school really played hand in hand with that. He was no different from a lover than he was a best friend. You two were absolutely the same and you loved it.

“You should probably get some sleep now, Angel. You don’t want to go to work exhausted, and I don’t wanna be blamed for you oversleeping again.” You simply roll your eyes in a playful manner, but agree nonetheless. You couldn’t chance being up so late, Mr. Kim was very strict about being on time.

“I guess you’re right,” you pout. “Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow when I get off work.”

“Okay, Angel. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kookie cake.” You pull your phone from your ear, ending the call before you get up from your bed to switch off your bedroom lights. You crawl back onto the mattress, pulling your blanket over your body. Picking your phone back up again, you swipe through your apps until you locate the clock app. You set your alarm to wake you up at 12:00 PM on the dot. Just as you were about to place your phone down on your nightstand, something overcame you and you got the urge to search Yoongi’s name on Google.

When you type in his name, you are shocked to see so many results come up effortlessly. Several different mugshots from several different instances, all dating from when he was a teenager to one that seemed recent. You click on the one that looks most recent, letting it redirect you to the Daegu booking website.

Name: Min Yoongi

Age: 30

BOOKING DETAIL

Status: Released

Building: Public Safety Building

Area: Maledorm

Booking number: 575857

Booking date: 3/26/2023 11:56:00 pm

ARRESTS

Arrest number: 680071205

Arrest date: 3/26/2023 10:06:00 pm

Arresting agency: Daegu Police Department

Agency case number: 25-18056

ASSAULT WITH A DEADLY WEAPON

ATTEMPTED FIRST-DEGREE MURDER

POSSESSION WITH INTENT TO SELL

You read over the arrests in shock, completely dumbfounded by how a man of his caliber could be released from jail and not behind bars rotting for the rest of his life. He practically lived in jail anyway, why not just keep him there? You eye his mugshot, his intense stare giving you the chills. You didn’t need to wonder how the officer taking the photo must’ve felt considering you too have felt those daggers looking into the depths of your soul.

You pull your sight away from the photo, swiping away the page. You didn’t want to spend any more time on Yoongi. What happened at Makoto is behind you now. You just wanted to forget about the situation, and never run into Yoongi– or Joon for that matter, again. You plug your phone to your charger, sitting the device on your nightstand before you drift off to sleep.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.” Mr. Kim looks surprised as you step into the kitchen, taking an apron from the hook on the wall. “Why wouldn’t I show up?” You quirk a brow, tying the black fabric around your waist. “Because I thought you would’ve been too scared to show your face after going toe to toe with the devil’s minions the other day.”

You click your tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn’t believe people were still on that. Just as you walked in you overheard a customer whispering ‘she’s still alive?’ to her friend. It’s absurd at this point. “I think everyone is blowing what happened yesterday way out of proportion.” You shake your head, grabbing a notepad and pen from the pencil holder.

“I’d like to say we are, kid, but you got lucky. That Yoongi is no joke to be played with. The guy is a menace. Some people say the only reason he’s not in jail is because he has affiliations within the police unit, and I wouldn’t doubt if it’s true. Our system is corrupt.” The older man sighs. ‘Oh great, here he goes with politics and corruption again…’ you thought. You had better get out on the floor before you’re caught in a whirlwind of it.

You leave him to discuss the topic with himself as you step out onto the floor, and start taking customer orders. “Hey, you’re that crazy girl from yesterday.” A man says as you approach his table. You frown, already knowing what he was referring to, so you avoid it at all cost. “What can I get you?” You redirect the conversation.

“Oh! Uhhh,” he picks up the menu from his table, skimming through it. “I’ll have the Jajangmyeon.” He answers quickly. You scribble down his order. “Anything to drink?” You ask. “Ginseng tea, thank you.” He places the menu back on the table. You nod, taking down his drink. “Okay, I’ll be right back with that tea.” You smile kindly before heading back to the kitchen. You rip the orders from the notepad, clipping them to the ticket holder.

“Hey, kid. We’ve got a delivery order for dumplings.” Mr. Kim informs you as you’re preparing tea for the customer. The older gentleman approaches you, the order already made and secured in a brown bag. You take the bag from him, looking at the order ticket attached to it.

As you read over the address on the ticket, your eyes practically bulge out of your skull. ‘2357 Gongdan Lane’. “Um… Mr. Kim, this location is in the slums of Daegu.” You look at him with concern. “I know.” The man simply nods, taking the tickets you set from the holder. “Yeah, well, I can’t go to Gongdan lane. It’s dangerous, especially for me as a woman.”

“Look kid, I’m sorry. If Jimin was here I’d have him go but he doesn’t work on Saturdays and you’re my only worker.”

“Exactly. I’m the only worker, you need me to be at the shop taking orders.” You knew that wasn’t going to go over as it was a slow day, and there were hardly any customers in the shop to begin with. “I can handle the customers and cook the ramen until you get back.”

You couldn’t believe this. Just as you had prided yourself in never stepping foot in Gongdan, here was this old dirty bastard making you go. On top of that, the restaurant didn’t even own a company car for deliveries so you had to ride a bike. You read over the ticket again, noticing that there wasn’t even a name on the order. “There’s no name on the order, this could be a trick that ends with me getting robbed for free food.”

“All this time wasted on talking about it could be used on getting the delivery done. Stop complaining and do what you’re paid to do. The faster you get it done, the faster you can come back.”

You wanted to stomp your foot like a child and continue to protest, but you couldn’t risk your job by not listening so you did the only sensible thing you could do. Your job. You grab a plastic bag, shoving the brown one inside of it before leaving through the back exit in the kitchen. You spot the red delivery bike lying on the ground, and pick it up, looping the plastic bag around the bike handle.

As you mount the bicycle, you pull out your phone to use your GPS. The ride was about 12 minutes away. If you ride fast you could undoubtedly make it at least an 8 minute ride. You kick back the breaks and set off on your journey. During the ride as you make it into the slum area, you could truly see the separation from Sangsu-dong to Gongdan lane. The sidewalks were cracked and unpaved, the buildings looked more rundown, and homeless people laid out in sleeping bags.

You got an uneasy feeling as you noticed a group of men smoking weed on a corner and intensely watching you go by. You probably stood out like a sore thumb, riding through Daegu’s slummiest on a red bike. You swallowed the lump in your throat, keeping your eyes forward as you paid them no mind. As you continue going, you notice the streets become more isolated. Your GPS directs you to turn, which you follow only to come upon a big warehouse that looked abandoned. ‘You’ve arrived’, your GPS says. You furrow your brows, confusion written over your face.

“Stupid thing must’ve sent me to the wrong location.” You grab the bag of dumplings from the bike handle, circling around the warehouse just in case you were mistaken. You find a door on the other end, cameras surrounding it like it was a government building. You inspect the door, seeing that there was a red button of some sort on it.

You scope the perimeter, making sure no one was trying to sneak attack you. The whole thing seemed completely sketchy. You take a deep breath before pressing down on the button, a loud buzz coming from it. You take a step back, waiting for someone to come open the door. You stood there for about two minutes, not wanting to wait around any longer. You knew this was a scam. You should’ve just gone home and pretended like you delivered the food. It would’ve saved you the trouble. As you turn to walk back to the bike, the door suddenly opens with a loud creaking sound.

You direct your attention back to the door, locking eyes with an individual that you dreaded to ever see again. “Oh my god… i-it’s you…” you stutter in shock, seeing Yoongi stand in the doorway with a smirk plastered on his face. “Wonder Woman, we meet again.”

You’re silent, not really saying a word as you feel too stunned to speak. “You got something for me, sweetheart?” His eyes darted to the bag in your hand. You snap from your fearful trance, remembering why you were there in the first place. “Uh… yeah. Here’s your order.” You stretch out your arm to hand him the bag, not wanting to come any closer. The raven reaches forward, his hand brushing yours as he takes the bag from you. You quickly turn away, rushing back over to your bike.

“Hey, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself yesterday.” He says, following behind you. “I already know who you are.” You mumble as you mount the red two wheeler. “Really? You didn’t seem to know who I was yesterday. If you did, you wouldn’t have shot your pretty mouth off like that,”

He grabs the handles of your bike, preventing you from leaving. “You look scared. Guess my reputation precedes me.” He says almost too proudly. “Not in a way that a decent human being should want it to, but I guess decency isn’t what you’re aiming for.” you say slickly, which causes the raven to smile. “There goes that smart mouth again,” he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, giving you the same predatory stare from yesterday. “Normally I wouldn’t tolerate anyone getting slick at the mouth with me, but from you it’s kind of a turn on.”

You scowl, ignoring his sexual advance. “Can you let go of my bike? I need to get back to work.”

“How about you let me drive you?” he offers, but you quickly decline. You’d be an idiot to get in the car with a proclaimed murderer. “I’ll take my chances on the bike, thank you.” The raven lets go of the handles, taking a step back to allow you to be on your way. “Be my guest, sweetheart.”

You kick back the break, not wanting to waste any more of your time in Gongdan speaking to this thug. You back away from him, turning the bike to ride down the path you came. “I hope to see you again, Y/N.” He calls out. You come to an abrupt stop, looking back at the raven. How did he know your name? “I don’t remember telling you my name.”

“You didn’t need to. I have my sources and connections, Princess. Whatever I need or want, I get.”

You cringe at the nickname ‘princess’. Jungkook doesn’t even call you that, with all the cheesy nicknames he does use. Him knowing your name suddenly made you question how coincidental this whole encounter was. You were starting to wonder how much about you he knew. As if he read your mind, he starts to read you like an autobiography. “You were born in Busan and raised right here in Daegu, you’re an ex nursing student, an only child, both your parents passed away in a tragic car accident, your best friend is Sang Mina, and your boyfriend is… Jeon Jungkook? Am I right?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as he spoke information that only people close to you would know. You felt sick, creeped out even, but you tried not to display that on your face. “So, I guess you know my work schedule then. You set this little encounter up knowing that I was the only worker today, didn’t you?” the raven simply shrugged like he couldn’t answer whether that was true or not, but you knew that it was. “I don’t know what your deal is, but just stay away from me, okay?”

Yoongi sneered, as he turned on his heels, heading back to the door from once he came. The raven makes sure he gets the last word though.

“I can’t make you any promises, sweetheart. Like I said, whatever I want, I get.”

Taglist

@l0stindigo @minyoongimylove @mamidescarada @slutforleeminho @bubbles2300 @rosquilleta @justletmehavethenamemarsomfg @pineappleburger @secfir @mytokkiboyfriend @zeelalalalala @kenpachisimp @snoozeagustd @borahaerhy @officialholyagua @kooslilhoe @agustdsslutt @wittyreader @moonchild-qaads @littlestarstinyseven @jojowantstocry @whipwhoops @multiasf @mxshikoo @passionandsuga @justdancehoba @kooksbunnnn @primadonnasdream @ashslytheringoddess @yoongislatinagff @itzz-me-duh @roguesthetic @captaincarmel416 @strxwbloody @catchmybreath94 @yunkissis @miamorcitovante @daniarafid @junisage @cynicalbitch666 @junslay @be0mluver @minvu @bibsluvsjk @shycreationdreamland @l2ovesick @ejaeee @jiminssmallpinkyy @bangtan4everr @wobblewobble822

2K notes · View notes

bachissidehoe · 8 months

Text

A love triangle with Nagi & Reo

Nagi just never told you how he felt, feelings would be a hassle. Especially when he considers the thought that you may not return them, and then he has to deal with the hassle of losing you in his life. He’s known you since middle school, where you were the reason he studied hard enough to make it into this school. You let him live his lazy life, give him company when he wants it and leave him alone when he would rather keep to himself. He can’t imagine a better life than one with you.

Reo met Nagi and felt an instant connection. Nagi is not only exactly what he’s been looking for as a soccer player to take their high school team to the top, he’s also everything Reo wants in a partner. Someone who can match him in talent, make him think differently about himself and the world, and someone to fight for. All Reo has ever wanted is to be with someone who doesn’t care about his money, his grades- someone who isn’t trying to use him for personal gain. And Nagi is just perfect, he doesn’t need Reo at all, and Reo can’t imagine anything better than that.

You really didn’t want to fall for Reo, he’s every girl’s dream boy. Hot, smart, athletic, and kind (and rich), he checks every box. But literally everyone wants him, he can get anyone he wants, it was so inconvenient when you found yourself falling for him right along with everyone else. But how could you not? When he takes you by the hand to let you sit front and center at his practices and games, when he thanks you for taking such good care of his “treasure” (your best friend Nagi), when he flashes you a gorgeous smile as his eyes sparkle. You feel special every time he talks to you, looks at you, gives you even the slightest bit of attention. You can’t imagine anything better than someone who makes you feel loved like Reo does.

*****

“I have to tell you-”

“I have to tell you something too.” Reo interrupts you, his expression full of urgency yet slightly relieved, assuming he knows exactly what you’re about to tell him.

Truthfully, you decided it’s finally time to confess to him, it’s been long enough. He should at least know, even if he does reject you.

“Okay, you go.” You smile, urging him to go first. Your heart races, hoping he’ll return your feelings before you even have to deal with the embarrassment of confessing.

“I- I really like Nagi.” Reo says confidently. He’s nervous, but he stands tall. He shouldn’t feel so nervous about feelings like this, he always gets what he wants, after all.

“I- you-” You stutter, the thoughts flooding your brain faster than you can think of a proper response. It makes so much sense, Reo’s “treasure”, the way he’s expressed wanting to take care of Nagi, how he’s started showing up to drive him to school, how he always tries to get alone time with him. It’s so obvious, and you’ve been hogging him away from Nagi, selfishly acting on your feelings instead of trying to help Nagi explore his own.

“Oh, you’re surprised? I thought I was being too obvious.” Reo chuckles.

“No! It makes sense! I just- um-” You pause, trying to find a way to get through the conversation without crying.

“She wanted to tell you that she likes you.”

A familiar voice interrupts the conversation, where you turn to see your snowy-haired best friend poking his head into the empty classroom. Clearly, he was looking for the two of you, showing up at perhaps the worst time.

“Nagi! No- I don’t- um, Reo was just saying-” You try to save it, try to make this less embarrassing, but all you can do is fight back tears.

“Yeah, he was saying he likes me. I know he does.” Nagi pulls his bag straps tight against his shoulders, standing up tall for once. It’s easy to forget how damn tall he is when he’s always slouching. “But I know you like him, and I like you, and that’s all a hassle, so I left it alone.” He sighs.

“Wait-” Reo starts, processing the information. “You like her, she likes me, and I like you? Oh boy.” He scratches behind his head. “Is that what you were going to tell me, y/n?”

You only nod, still trying to process that Nagi basically confessed to you just now. How could you not have seen it?

You look at Nagi, who looks at Reo, who looks at you. Suddenly, Nagi looks different to you, he’s honestly beautiful. You can’t imagine your life without him, and watching him discover a recent passion has been an amazing journey. Nagi looks at Reo, seeing someone who’s helped him grow into a new person, a person he’s starting to like much more than his old self. A life with Reo in it sounds amazing. And Reo looks at you, seeing a beautiful girl who has supported him every day, giggling and laughing with him and encouraging him to chase his dreams. You haven’t used him for a single thing, thinking only of his happiness.

The three of you stand in a triangle as you look between each other. And you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah.” You smile. “I like you too Nagi. And I do like you, Reo.” You shrug.

“I do like you y/n. And of course, Nagi.” Reo smiles.

“I like you y/n. And I think I do like you too, Reo.” Nagi cracks a light smile.

242 notes · View notes

damn-stark · 7 days

Text

Chapter 20 The Witch, The Siren, and The Prince

Chapter 20 of Moonlight

A/N- this was very fun to write, I hope you all enjoy it!!

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, violence, angst!!, fluff!!, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 447- (only a part of) 449

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

Maybe it’s the rain, the grey skies, and the chilly air that makes your mind wonder about your mother and how she’s dealing with Jacaerys death. Has her heart completely been torn from her chest like yours was? Is she overcome with nothing but a raging storm that doesn’t let her see a single break of light in the darkened clouds?

You don’t want to think of her, you want to stay angry, but she appears in your mind like some ghost haunting you from the great beyond. And her eyes, her tears, her reaction to all that transpired in the Gullet fills your head. You’re still angry, you still feel that poison deep within you, but…you can’t help but wonder what she might've thought when she heard what you did. Is she disgusted? Horrified? Is she scared of the woman she birthed and raised after she heard how you relished in that massacre?

No matter what, you don’t want her to be scared of you. You don’t want her to be horrified. And even if some part of you wishes you hadn’t been born, you don’t want her to feel that regret about you. No matter how angry you are…

“My Prince Regent. Princess Regent,” Ser Criston greets Aemond and you with a bow of his head. “Welcome to Harrenhal.”

You snap from the depths of your mind and find Ser Criston glaring at you. If looks could kill his glare would have killed you the moment you hopped off Astraea and stepped onto these damp lands. Why is it so?

Is it because of the lack of a battle and his all too clean armor that should be stained with the blood of the Rivermen? Is it because of the lack of an army and the lack of dragon battle between Caraxes and Vhagar? Or is it because you’re all in Harrenhal?

Sure as you saw it from the sky, you could see the reminder of what happened when Aegon the Conqueror showed the rivermen the power of the dragons, but it’s not a terrible sight. The castle is tall, it was probably the tallest tower once, and it probably touched the sky before it was burnt down. The stone is dark which adds an eeriness as it’s cast by grey clouds, and a large lake sits by the castle which contrasts its eeriness and offers some serenity—for those who can find it anyway.

So it’s not all bad. To you at least. To Ser Criston it’s a different story and a different reason why his frown is carved so deeply on his face—you can already predict why he’s so upset, he’s practically yelling it at you through that glare.

“Men are already rounding up everyone who lives within the castle,” Ser Criston shares as he brings out his arms from behind him and steals a glance at the entrance of the dark castle before looking at Aemond. “And guards are being posted in every direction of the castle.”

Aemond hums and turns around to look at the castle, letting Ser Criston once again sneak a glare at you.

“Taking the castle was easier than I imagined it would be,” you mock Ser Criston as you hold his glare through the silver chains that fall over your face like a veil.

Aemond hums, and you let a faint smirk play in the corner of your lips before you turn away and face the castle from the ground, catching yourself smiling instead of feeling a chill as you see a small brown owl flying overhead.

“Where is everyone?” You don’t try to ease that frustration Ser Criston so obviously holds. You instigate the problem with a smug look playing in your eyes instead of your lips as you face the knight again.

“Why don’t you come with me to the main tent before we head inside,” Ser Criston suggests and Aemond doesn’t hesitate to follow, making you turn to trail after him. Yet as you’re going to step away, suddenly a breeze brushes over you that carries unintelligible whispering which causes you to snap around and face the castle.

Was it just some fragment of your imagination? Some mind trick? It could just be the wind, but you know the difference between a breeze and the whispers that come from someone’s mouth, and what you heard just now was whispering; not from Aemond or Ser Criston, they’re walking away. The whispering came from the breeze that blew from the direction of the castle.

If only you understood what it was saying, but not a word was clear. You just know it was someone whispering, and you wait in hopes you will hear it again, but you instead hear Aemond calling out your name.

“I’m…coming!” You respond over your shoulder and wait for a split second more before you turn around and see him waiting at the bottom hill for you. When you catch up you hook your arm around his and whisper to him as Ser Criston leads the way.

“He seems upset,” you point out as you flip back the chains hanging over your face, and then look at the back of the man's head. “At me more than anything else.”

Aemond sighs and speaks up in High Valyrian so he’s not understood—yet talking in a different language only makes him more suspicious. “<Don’t pay it any mind. There’s no reason to be upset, Daemon left. He’s a coward. It’s that simple.>”

“<You're not upset at me?>” You can’t help but ask and glance at him, catching him glance at you at the same time. “<He saw me. I could’ve been the one who sent him flying.>”

Aemond shakes his head. <You said he was wearing armor. I'm certain he didn’t know we were nearby before he saw you, so he most likely already planned on leaving. It’s not your fault.>”

You glance down at the hand you have around his arm and hum in comprehension, giving away the uneasiness that you tried hard to fight off, but finds a way to still weigh down on you as you feel some responsibility for facing an empty castle. Aemond senses that and leans over to press a kiss on the side of your head.

“The twins don’t like this weather,” you complain and look up. “It messes up my hair.”

“You were just covered in blood,” he rebuttals, making you snicker—“anyway with Daemon gone we won’t stay long. We’ll have my uncle stay here to keep the castle.”

You nod softly. “Good, I miss Aerion and our bed.”

He scoffs, but you make a faint smile tug on his lips regardless.

Before you can reach the tent you feel his gaze on you, so you look over to lock eyes with him and catch the corner of his lips twitching to a smirk. “You look beautiful in that gown. If that wasn’t obvious,” he says, making a warmth creep on your face, and causing you to turn your head away to grin as you mindlessly brush the long silk crimson skirt with your hand.

“You’re being unprofessional, husband. You're going to make Ser Criston mad.”

Aemond scoffs and leans over to whisper in your ear. “I don’t give a damn. I can tell you you look nice whenever I please.”

You smile wider and then lull your head back toward Aemond to look at him with a love-struck gaze. “Thank you,” you whisper against his lips that you brush against as you find him closer than you thought.

He hums and looks down at your lips before he presses a peck on your forehead, making you groan, but making him smirk before he flips the silver chains back over your face to fall like a veil instead of using it like a hairnet.

“<Protect yourself. We’re on enemy grounds.>” He says in High Valyrian.

“It’s more like a fashion piece,” you mumble as you fix the chains.

“It works both ways, that's all that matters,” he retorts before he walks ahead of you to open the tent and let you walk in first.

Once inside the perimeters of the main tent, you’re greeted with the sight of other knights and commanders who hadn’t been in your meetings before. And they all go quiet when Aemond and you walk in and steal their breaths—All except Ser Criston’s and Ser Gwayne’s breath that is.

“Welcome to Harrenhal my Prince, my Princess,” Ser Gwayne greets with a kindness Ser Criston lacked. “If it wasn't obvious we have already taken over the castle with minimal challenge.”

“If a challenge is what you call it,” Ser Criston grumbles. “The doors were open, and the halls emptied. All that remains is prints of what used to be.”

His eyes follow you as you make your way to a seat. You can feel him glowering.

“Have the men inside faced any resistance?” Aemond asks as he takes a seat across from you since there’s no map to study or markers to move. The wooden table is empty and men in their armor simply surround it.

“No, none,” Ser Gwayne answers. “Some men were left, but easily fought. The Strong’s have all but surrendered.”

Aemond hums and Ser Criston parts his lips to finally express his anger against you in a daring and bold tone. “Perhaps if the Princess Regent had not been so reckless in her scouting task then the army would be here, and Daemon would not have fled.”

You look at him unbothered as you cross your leg over the other and sit back before you let your head loll to the side, and then interject in your defense with this cocky air mingling around you. “Mind your tongue Ser,” you roll out softly but threatening in every way. “You may be the Hand, but you still are a Kingsguard.”

You narrow your gaze and a faint smirk that only Ser Criston sees plays on the corner of your lips.

“Forgive me,” he says with no sentiment behind his apology, he just loses his glare and averts his gaze. “I did not mean to raise my voice. We could have had them pinned and destroyed their army. Or if we hadn't, we could have at least diminished their numbers, but now who knows how many more men we may have to face when he joins the others. The Northmen get closer by the day, their numbers may be small, but together they will be a much more dangerous threat.”

Your smirk falls and your eyes fall on your hands as you start to fiddle with your rings at the mention of the Northern men.

“The Northerner army still has to face our Western army,” a commander offers some consolation. “Lord Jason may be dead, but the Lannister army is still prevailing. They fight under Lord Humfrey Lefford now.”

“He’s in a litter,” Ser Criston snaps back spitefully as if the man had any fault.

“But still fighting,” Ser Gwayne counters. “Ease that brow Ser Criston, the princess did not send Daemon and the Rivermen army fleeing. It seems that by the time the Princess went to scout, the army was already leaving around us to avoid us. The same goes for Prince Daemon.”

“Daemon and his river scum fled rather than face my wrath,” Aemond proclaims and as much as you would want to agree, you have a feeling that there’s a much more significant reason why Daemon finally left the Riverlands and the castle undefended—“we will take the castle and after it falls the Princess and I will return to King's Landing. Ser Gwayne—”

Before he can finish sharing his plan a knight walks in with a raven scroll. “My Prince, this came for you from King’s Landing.”

You and Aemond share a confused and concerned glance before he walks over and takes the scroll, letting the knight walk out.

As Aemond opens the scroll, you slip your leg off the other and sit up straight to watch as Aemond’s face begins to twist with a seething rage.

“What is it?” You probe as you stand up. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond crumbles up the scroll and hurls it on the tabletop before he snaps his glare up as he huffs out through his nose, and then exclaims. “Daemon and that cunt Rhaenyra took King’s Landing!”

Tension fills the room, and everyone around the table passes worried glances as Aemond’s nostrils begin to flare with each heavy breath he takes.

“They took it while we were away! They have my son captive! And my mother and sister along with him!” He yells, making you swallow back nervously. Not out of fear of what they would do to Aerion, your mother wouldn’t hurt him, nor would Daemon. You grow nervous because of what Aemond wants to do to retaliate such an attack against him and the crown he almost held at his fingertips. It was there in his reach and now it got taken away by a man that a few days ago was under his nose.

“That’s where that craven took that army! That’s where that fucking craven went!” His angry shouts fill the tent, making everyone not dare to look him in the eye. You don’t even look at him, not because you fear him, you don’t. You don’t face him because you once again redirect your thoughts to your mother.

She took King’s Landing. That’s what she has been up to since Jacaerys death. She most likely used her anger to finally take the capital from Aemond and the rest of the Greens while Vhagar was away. She did it and you don’t know if you’re angry, or secretly proud. You don’t fight for either side, that’s still true. You fight for yourself, for your survival and that of your children and Aemond, but as she sits on the throne of swords does she think about you? Or does she now look at you the same way she looks at Aemond? Like an enemy that needs to be taken down? A daughter turned enemy that she will not consider her heir now that Jacaerys is dead?

What are you to her now that she finally sits on the Iron Throne? And are you proud or upset? Then again that last question depends on how she sees you now.

Regardless, it’s not like you can know now so you focus back on Aemond still simmering in his rage before he suddenly turns around swiftly and stomps out of the tent.

You and Ser Gwayne share a concerned look before you quickly follow Aemond out, seeing that he seems to be heading toward the castle.

You then quickly catch up to him and match his pace even if he takes very long strides, and manage to catch his arm.

“Aemond?” You beckon his attention, and he doesn’t hesitate to give it to you. And rather than meeting anger because you are the daughter of Rhaenyra; the one who took the throne behind his back, you actually see that he shares a malicious and smug look with you that answers your upcoming question before you can express it, and eases your chest from its clenched hold whilst also sparking those same emotions inside you.

That malice playing in his eyes is contagious, and you welcome it with open arms. You don’t fight it, it eases right in you. Which sounds twisted that with one look from Aemond you match the emotions inflaming within him, but you can’t help it. Be it doubt about your mother and the anger you still hold for her that makes understanding him and matching his fire that much easier, but you do. And it’s also with another single look that he gives you that you trust him wholeheartedly.

No words were exchanged. There’s no need for them. He asks you with his eye alone to trust him, only glances are exchanged, only your souls communicate together through your eyes, and without hesitation or pesky doubt, you trust him. You show him that you trust him without a single word, you lift your nose in the air and pass him a sly smirk. And he is relieved to know you understand. It’s your understanding, your matching fire that makes his shoulders roll back with more confidence and makes him have more cockiness in his stride.

When you finally make your way past the entrance of the blackened castle, your gaze hardens and emanates an icy fire that intimidates those who meet your gaze and gives away the suffering that made you so cold.

For those who look closely anyway, otherwise, they meet the eyes of a dragon in human form, the Blood Dragon, and the Fire Demon who demolished the Triarchy in The Gullet. You are a sight to behold, more so as you walk side by side, and at a matching pace with your husband Prince Aemond, the Prince Regent.

Before there was a change in the air as all the bodies that inhabited the castle were rounded up and confronted by a large army, but now it’s a different story. Now a darker cloud looms over Harrenhal as Aemond and you make your way into the courtyard, as they announce your names and titles, and you both pierce your glares down at everyone from the clouds. You literally stood before them, face to face, on the ground, but to the eyes of captured men and women and everyone that was not either of you, you watched them from a throne in the clouds.

Aemond and you are the very picture of royalty. Whereas Daemon waltzed about the castle looking every bit of a dragon warrior and offering his assistance where he could, Aemond and you differed; you’re like gods with your piercing glares that could damn anyone if they looked too close, and your noses in the air that showed everyone you were nowhere near them.

“Who is the castellan of Harrenhal?” Aemond asks a question he knows, but he’s playing around with all the captives set before you. “Step forward.”

The old and the young men all look between each other before a plump man with grey hair steps forward in his velvet robes, and his eyes downcasted.

“It is I, Ser Simon Strong, at your service, my Prince…and Princess.”

He dares himself to glance at you as if waiting to be corrected, but you tilt your head up, proving he was right to also name you.

“The castle is yours,” Ser Simon Strong adds, making Aemond snicker, and unsettling the old lord and every man behind him. “We surrender Harrenhal to you.” The man declares and bows his head.

Aemond and you share a quick glance before Aemond steps forward and pulls Blackfyre out of its sheath to lift Ser Simon’s chin with the flat side of the blade.

“Did you fall on your knees just as quickly when Daemon barged in here and took the castle?” He asks with his anger heightening in his tone. “Why should I trust the words of a man who yielded the castle and his loyalty to the enemy?”

Ser Simon swallows thickly and shakes his head as panic grows in his eyes. “No, he forced us, my Prince. He took the castle by force. My loyalties are to King Aegon. We are true and loyal servants of the crown,” he runs his mouth without trying to avert his gaze so his every word is believed, but Aemond is no fool. Even if he was, nothing would spare the castallen from Aemond’s wrath.

“My nephew Lord Larys Strong serves the realm, and the King as the Master of Whisperers,” he continues to add, but that only makes Aemond’s grip around the sword tighten. “House Strong serves no other ruler but King Aegon, and you.”

Aemond lowers the sword and steps back, giving the man a false sense of relief.

“Lord Larys tried to kill my son and heir,” Aemond makes the man stiffen. “He is only five months old. Lord Larys tried to kill my wife, your Princess, and the babes growing inside her, so tell me, Lord Strong,” Aemond rolls out with every word laced with venom. “Why should I trust the words or loyalties of a man whose nephew betrayed the crown? Who let the pretender inside the city and take the throne?!” He sneers, and Ser Simon shakes his head trying to argue but what words can he use to assure Aemond?

There’s nothing the man can say. No excuses, no protests. There at that moment, inside of Aemond’s eye, he can see the fate that awaits him.

“Give Ser Simon a sword,” Aemond demands as he turns to start pacing menacingly. “Let the Gods decide if he speaks truly. If you are innocent Ser, the Warrior will give you strength to defeat me. If not…” he trails off and ends the sentence with silence, but there’s no need for him to finish, everyone knows what will happen if the man doesn’t defeat Aemond. Just like everyone knows that will be the only outcome of this duel. Aemond knows it, and you know it.

Everyone knows that Ser Simon’s fate is imminent. He knows it for certain and it’s why he looks at you for reassurance, for a wedge that could let him escape his lurking fate. Yet he’s mistaken. Besides he only looks at you for help because you’re a woman for one; you are meant to have a woman’s merciful heart. And two, you're Rhaenyra’s daughter, you are the Realm’s Golden Girl, but the Realm’s Golden Girl doesn’t reside within you anymore, she’s dead, and he sees that when he catches your intimidating glare behind those silver chains over your face. Thus he leaves you be as he sees that his fate is set in stone.

“<You may not need it, but I’m still going to give you my favor,>” you tell Aemond as he waits to fight Ser Simon, making him hum in response before you stand on the tip of your toes and press a kiss on his cheek. “<The gods are in your favor, my love.>”

Aemond holds your gaze for a lingering moment before he turns away and heads to the center of the courtyard to face his old opponent shoved to the center. All while you walk back in the shadows to stand next to Ser Gwayne.

“What happens to the other men of the castle?” You ask as you see how Aemond rolls his shoulders back.

“If the Prince is merciful they are kept captive where they’re forced to work for us or rot in a cell,” Ser Gwayne says without trying to hide a thing. “If he’s not well, your dragons are going to be well-fed tonight.”

You hum and drift your eyes to all the men and the boys nervously watching the fight about to commence. You would like to say there’s a flicker of some sense to help them, but all that grows within you is a dangerous smugness that accompanies a wicked plan that starts to take root.

Would you be denied such pleasures though? That’s the question you should ask yourself before you get excited.

Perhaps by Ser Criston, but Aemond? Doubtful. Actually probably not since he’s furious that King’s Landing was taken. You will have to wait until after the duel to know though.

Until then you clasp your hands before you and feel a rush of excitement as the duel starts and Aemond stares the man down. Yet as Ser Simon is going to attempt to make his first move, a breeze blows past you again and that same whispering travels amongst it, pulling your eyes away from the duel and drifting them toward an arch that leads out somewhere you don’t know, somewhere that every muscle in your body wants to move toward, but somewhere you don’t push yourself to go to just yet.

You stay where you are and slowly bring your eyes down, at that moment catching distant green eyes looking back at you. Big green eyes that belong to a woman in dark purple who sports long black hair that flows behind her as a breeze also brushes past her. A woman that steals your attention over the singing of the swords hitting against each other and holds your attention over the fact that Aemond is the one dueling.

You don’t know why she holds your attention captive, you don’t know why you look at this woman amongst the flock of other women who reside in this castle. You just hold her gaze and feel a familiarity deep in your bones. Have you seen the gleam of her eyes somewhere? A haunting dream perhaps?

You don’t know, she just seems familiar. And the way she holds your gaze makes it seem like she knows you too, like she’s not scared of you like the others are.

“No!!”

You rip your eyes away from the woman and look back to the center of the courtyard, finding Ser Simon bleeding out from a large gash on his stomach that has his inside leaking out, and proves Aemond the winner. Not like it was going to go any other way, everyone knew, you knew with certainty. But even still, you beam at him and clap, making him smirk at the ground as you make your way to each other.

When you meet in the middle he grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles. Before he turns around you tighten your grip around his hold and draw his attention to you. “Do you trust me?” You ask out loud.

Aemond’s eye digs deep into your soul to try and figure out what you’re up to. Yet even if he sees that malice reflecting back at him, he can’t exactly pull your mind apart so he nods. “Of course,” he assures you.

You blink and sigh with relief before you glance at the women cornered at the far end of the courtyard. “Oh, and the women, spare them.”

Aemond follows your gaze and shakes his head lightly, but you grab his arm and pull his attention back to you. “Aemond,” you insist and come up with a quick but strong excuse to spare their lives. “With King’s Landing taken we might stay here a while, we need them. I need them. I need someone to tend to me as I am with child.” You press and make him hold your gaze for a long while as he debates your proposal.

When his mind is made he sighs deeply. “Alright. They will be spared.”

“Good…and let me handle the sentencing of the sons, everyone else is yours to do as you please,” you add for some context before he can get carried away.

“They will not be spared,” he clarifies, making you nod in comprehension before you let his hand go and face the horrified and solemn crowd together.

“Have his body fed to Vhagar,” Aemond proclaims as he strides forward to be at the center of attention. “As for the rest of you, hm.”

He turns with his hands clasped behind him, and his nose in the air to show his boast in confidence and power after his win. “The Princess Regent wants the women spared, so they shall. Thank her for I thought of you as dragon fodder.” He huffs with amusement. “Tend to her, and if she or my children are harmed I will slay you down myself.”

There’s no echo of responses, everyone understands and agrees in a sign of relief.

“And if I hear that any man from our army touched them against their will, I will hunt them down,” you make it known threateningly. “Ser Criston? Ser Gwayne? The men better behave and find whores to bother instead.”

“Understood,” Ser Gwayne is the only one who voices his comprehension, while Ser Criston, well, as you peer back he simply offers you a stiff nod.

You don’t argue about his response, you simply hum and then roll your shoulders back to mirror your husband's stance before you stalk toward him as you have your gaze set on the crowd of men now.

“As for the men,” you continue to have your voice be heard, piquing Ser Criston’s attention now more than before. “Every bastard boy seventeen and younger is spared. As for the sons of Ser Simon Strong, please step forward.”

Whispers travel about the crowd of men and women, while you peer over at Ser Criston and catch him looking at Aemond as if seeking for him to control you and stop taking charge.

Alas Aemond is too busy with what you have planned to pay Ser Criston any mind.

“Good,” you say as the men you asked for walk to the center of the courtyard, whilst in the air the sound of large flapping wings is heard before Astraea makes an appearance as she perches herself on a wall that towers over the courtyard, setting terror within the men before you as her gaze pierces in them the same way yours does.

“W-we surrender!” A man seeming to be not much older than you stammers out as he falls to his knees. “Please, please Your Grace we are at your mercy!”

A wicked smirk tugs on your lips at the sound of his words, but before you can do or say anything, you look over at Aemond, and with your eyes point at the empty spot next to his uncle that’s right under Astraea’s neck, and away from her target of fire.

Aemond of course seems hesitant at first, but after you insist he falls back, letting you face the men with a dark and piercing gaze and a menacing smirk only meant for them.

“You’re at my mercy. That’s good,” you interject in a soft voice before you utter a single word in the softest most alluring way. “Dracarys.”

Astraea doesn’t hesitate, she doesn’t need to be told twice, she brings her head down right behind you and opens her mouth to blast out a blazing cloud of fire that captures you in its rage along with all the men you brought to the middle. All except one.

One man manages to slip away from Astraea’s wrath the moment she opens her mouth. Albeit he’s caught by Aemond before he can run any further and is forced to watch as his brothers cry out in pain, as their skin melts from their bones, and as you stand there unharmed and a cold look in your eyes. There's no menacing smirk, no smug one either. You watch them suffer from inside those flames with a piercing look; not amusement or pride, and not malice either. Pure anger flickers in your eyes the same way the flames flicker around you.

Why anger though?

Because you’re angry at the world. You want the men you set ablaze to suffer the same way you’re suffering over the loss of your brothers. You want them to suffer the same way you suffer as those lies you were told echo in your head. You want them to live in the same pain you do as you remember at every waking hour that the man you loved with all your heart left you behind.

You’re full of rage and you want them all to feel the heat of your anger.

——

*LATER*

“What do we do next?” You ask as your eyes wander yet another darkened hall. “With Vermax gone that still leaves us severely outnumbered.”

Ser Criston sighs deeply and for once his glare is not aimed at you, or anyone for that matter, he looks down at the table and thinks over the next course of action.

“We march South, join Daeron and the rest of the Hightower forces,” Ser Gwayne suggests and looks to Aemond in hopes he will agree. “Our support is the strongest in the South. With the Rivermen supporting the Blacks we are surrounded by the enemy now that they have taken the throne. Our best choice would be to march South, have three dragons joined together, and two large armies join strengths. We could have a chance to retake King's Landing with our forces together.”

You slowly drift your eyes toward Aemond, and as he glances at you, you let him know with a slight lift of your chin that you agree with whatever he has planned—He understands that and rolls his eye back to his uncle.

“No. That is a craven’s choice. That’s what they want us to do, run like they did. I will not run like a dog with its tail between its legs,” he sneers and presses his hands on the surface of the round table. “We will hold this castle and find a way to retake King’s Landing, even if it means having to lure each dragonrider one by one until all that Rhaenyra has left is one dragon.”

“There's no use for our armies here,” Ser Criston argues and approaches the table. “Prince Daemon is gone and the men with him are too. That’s why we came in the first place, to fight them, and now they’re gone. We will just be a sitting target ready to be plucked by the enemy around us.”

“Enemy?” Aemond bites back as he tilts his head. “The Lannister army is taking out our enemy. We will not run. We will hold this castle and make our plans here, do you understand?”

Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne share an unconvinced and doubtful glance before Ser Gwayne meets your gaze and seems to ask for help to talk sense to Aemond. Which is kind of funny because ever since you stood there in that courtyard with the ashes of your enemy at your feet and you perfectly unscathed, Ser Gwayne nor Ser Criston have been able to meet you in the eye.

They can’t look past their horror because that’s what it is, there’s no mistaking the horror you saw on their faces when the fire died down and you stood there unharmed. It’s like you turned to a plague in their eyes, a fearsome thing to behold, or even look at.

Not like you care. You don’t give a damn if they fear you, or if they think of you as some demon. Aemond looked at you with fascination as the fire died and you stood there unharmed. If it was possible his love for you only intensified, and if he wasn’t already in love, he would fall with you all over again at that moment in time as the fire bathed you and you stood there radiantly, like the very sun itself. You were not someone to fear. You were and are awe-striking, something to look at with wonder and fascination. Someone to worship. What you possess is a gift, not a curse. He sees that, he knows that and he could never fear you because of it. That’s all that matters to you.

“Great,” Aemond adds with a huff as neither Ser Criston nor Ser Gwayne protests his plan.

“What of Ser Simon’s youngest son?” Ser Gwayne brings up now that he has the chance. “What will be of him?”

You stand up straighter and stifle your mischievous smirk. “I will give him the chance to gain his freedom on the morrow in a…trial by combat. He managed to escape Astraea’s wrath, so I will give him a chance to gain his freedom. It’s only fair.”

Ser Gwayne does not seem to have any protests about your plan. It’s insignificant so it doesn’t bother him, but Ser Criston seems annoyed, disgusted almost, and he hopes Aemond has some protest, but your husband did not see what he did. Not even a bit, which only leaves the knight more annoyed.

Does he say anything though? No, he stays quiet and doesn’t really speak up about any other matter that’s discussed. A silence falls over the hall as they all swallow any protests that go against Aemond’s plan, which makes for a short meeting. Which is great for you, it feels like you’ve been on your feet for days without rest. The twins are only getting bigger by the day and are only draining more of your energy. You want to sleep until the next day, and maybe eat something sweet?

Cake! That sounds good. Maybe you’ll have one of the cooks make you one—then again what if they try to poison you?

If only you had the faintest idea of how to make a cake of your own. Alas, you don’t, and you don’t want to ask anyone to make one either. You’ll have to live with the temptation.

Unless…

“Ser Jason—”

There it is again. That whispering accompanying the wind.

It’s still unintelligible, but you hear it again. Only this time it doesn’t go away with the wind, you keep hearing it. It's loud and then it goes quiet as it lures you somewhere you shouldn’t go, somewhere you should be cautious about, after all, you just got here, Daemon held this castle previously, and someone loyal to him could harm you. Yet no matter how many times you try to tell yourself to stop, you can’t ignore the soft whispering. It’s as if the wind is pulling you with it throughout the wet grounds, and you’re too entranced to stop.

“What is it, princess?” Ser Jason interjects.

You shake your head. “Never mind,” you brush him off and walk faster, turning corners, and passing by servants who stop to let you pass. You walk over puddles, and forget corridors you take to get to the Godswood?

You’re in the Godswood, in front of a large Heart tree with vibrant red leaves, the finest and whitest wood, and long roots that spread all over the ground. You stand there under its towering ancient presence and realize at that instant that the whispering is calling you to its presence. It’s telling you to go so you go with no protest and no fear. You walk to it with fascination as that whispering gets louder but not clearer, just louder as you get closer and closer.

Once you stand before the weeping face an urge takes over you to touch the sap that falls from it. It’s telling every muscle in your body to touch it and finally cipher what the whispering is saying, so you start to stretch your hand out. Yet as your fingers hover over the red sap, the sound of Ser Jason’s threatening voice stops you.

“There is far enough.”

The whispering goes quiet and you drop your arm back to your side right away before you turn and face, her. It’s that woman from the courtyard, the one that you swear you know, but can’t pinpoint from where. A dream perhaps?

Regardless, she’s standing there behind Ser Jason’s sword looking directly at you with her big eyes.

“Ser,” you interject softly and walk down toward them. “It’s alright.”

Ser Jason glances over at the entrance to make sure your husband isn’t lurking and ready to get him in trouble before he slowly does as he’s told, leaving the woman with access to you now.

“You,” you direct at her with a hint of wonder.

“Alys,” she says and side-eyes your sworn protector with the most rudest side-eye you’ve ever seen and then slowly drags her feet toward you. “Rivers.”

You take in her name with a gentle nod and she stops walking while you step back on the ground to be on the same level, but still several feet away.

“You,” she redirects, making the corner of your lips twitch up, but not extend to that smile just yet. Not even when she says your name.

“Some of those boys you and the Prince put to the sword were good. Boys with no name who were just trying to live,” she says boldly, making you raise your chin and show no falter in your decision. You show no regret and no guilt. Pride sparks in your eyes and makes the corner of your lips tug to a malicious smirk.

“Boys turn to vengeful men,” you counter simply. “Men have already tried to kill me and my children. I won’t let them get close again.”

She doesn’t say anything in return, she instead walks closer but stops soon thereafter and looks you up and down, letting you do the same in the silence that comes down over you.

You still try to figure out where you might know her from, but you can’t come up with an answer, just more curiosity.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a while now,” she breaks the silence, making you stiffen and causing your lips to part as your eyes slowly widen—“It’s about time our paths crossed, don’t you think?”

The corner of her lips lift slightly, but you only look at her shocked as your mind unravels what she might be.

“Are you—”

“A healer,” she interrupts you. “Yes.”

You shake your head as that shock turns back to fascination. “A witch?”

She scoffs and brings her hands together as she slowly makes her way closer to you, causing you to try and step back out of caution. However, you don’t actually end up moving. You think you do but you can’t bring yourself to really move.

“Well, I dabble in some medicinal things and people call them potions. The wind speaks to me, murky waters and fire paint me a picture, but I wouldn’t call myself that.”

You let out a breathless laugh, and then as she finally stops only a few inches away do you study her; her defined jaw, her big green eyes that have a way of luring you in, and her long and beautiful black hair that flows down her back.

“I am merely Alys. That’s all. That's all I’ll be in this long game.”

Your eyebrows twitch together in confusion, but you don’t question her. You don’t dare to yet.

“And you,” she continues and piques your curiosity. “A spark that triggers a greater fire.”

Your shoulders fall and a flood of questions come through your mind, drowning out any suspicions you held for her.

“What do you mean?” Is the first question that escapes you, making her lips lift up to a smug smile.

“All in due time, Princess, we still have a lot of time together,” she deflects and steps aside to point at the door that leads back inside the castle. “Why don’t I check on your twins first, hm?”

You part your lips and finally have the right mind to hesitate. “Maybe a maester can help me.”

She scoffs. “There’s no maester here. He left. Don’t worry, you can trust me.”

You draw in a deep breath and continue to hesitate for a moment longer until you remember that there’s no maester in your grand arsenal of men, so there’s no other choice but to trust her.

“Very well,” you give in with a deep breath and walk with her, but end up stopping when Ser Jason doesn’t follow closely behind. He stays in the middle of the courtyard and looks around panicked until you call for his attention.

“Ser Jason?”

His head snaps toward you and he looks at you horrified.

“Are you alright, Ser? Too brisk for you?”

Alys snickers and you offer the man a teasing smile, but he just heaves until he shakes his head and clears his throat before he finally catches up. You then continue your path inside side by side with Alys until you reach some messy hall with a cozy fire lit inside, and a round table full of clutter.

It's hard to be awed by the mess.

“Sit,” she orders and points to a large chair before she goes and tries to close the door. However, Ser Jason puts his foot in the way to stop her.

“No,” he deadpans.

“No men, just us. I have to check on her privately. Unless you want to be a part of it?” She asks and then seems to whisper something you don’t catch, but makes Ser Jason’s eyes flutter nervously before he slowly slides his foot back, making her scoff.

“None of your father’s backbone. He would’ve fought to stay here,” she has no shame in saying. And even if you should be in disbelief, you’re awed by her jab.

Poor Ser Jason can’t say the same, he’s horrified and flabbergasted all at the same time, and it’s her comment that lets her shut the door in his face and then face you with a smile.

You had the thought of asking her how she knew about Ser Jason’s big secret, but how do witches know anything?

Who knows. You leave it as just an impressive feat.

“How far along are you?” She asks as she makes her way to the round table.

You draw in a deep breath and look at the floor for an answer, but you can’t come up with it right away. There’s been death after death, and devastating news after devastating news that you lost track.

“A month maybe? Almost two? I have lost track. I just know that I am not showing yet.” You say.

Alys hums as she puts a kettle over the fire. “Has there been bleeding?” She then asks as she turns back to her table. “Anything of note?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m just more tired now. Hungry. The aches have slowly gone away.”

She nods in comprehension and you interlace your hands together and let your eyes explore the dimly lit room. Alys walks over to you, but doesn’t garner your attention until she’s standing over you.

“You ought to be more cautious,” she almost scolds you. It sounds like it anyway. “Locked in a room with me? After having just met me.”

You slowly stand up as you hold her gaze and without saying anything you flip back the silver chains that fall over your face, as if leaving the most valuable part of you vulnerable after feeling the need to protect it after Jacaerys death.

“There’s nothing you can do that can hurt me,” you mutter full of gloom. “Whatever was left of my heart died with my brother.”

Alys looks deep into your eyes and you catch the slight shake of her head before she whispers. “Is that why you leave yourself vulnerable to me? Armor can only protect so much.”

You draw out a deep breath and finally let go of her gaze. “Let’s just say it feels as if I already know you. Is it you? Some trick?”

She rolls her eyes. “No,” she retorts. “No trick, our part of our story is at last getting told. That’s all.”

You scoff and nod softly. “Okay. You’re strange, you know that?”

She smiles. “So I have been told. Sit and put your legs up on this,” she says and drags a tall stool in front of the chair, letting you do as she asked to let her check on you and the twins.

“You ought to be careful with whom you share your fire with,” she finally goes back to what she was trying to get at. “You don’t know me. You don’t even know half of this world. There are cold people who would do anything to snuff out a warm and blazing fire like yours. You can’t let them, you’re a dragon with fire-made flesh, be a dragon,” she gets across harshly as she’s examining you, which kind of fails to get her point across, but it still finds a way to travel in your ears and make you quiet. Like a mother would, or an older sister, or some passionate and dedicated teacher.

And like a scolded child you stay quiet until she’s done.

“Strong,” she shares, easing your worry. “And growing as they should be.”

You let out a relieved sigh and slide your legs back to let your gown fall back over your legs. “There was one smaller than the other, is that still the same?” You have to ask, making her hold your gaze in a gentle manner as she nods.

“Keep trying to stay strong and your little dragons will do the same, hm?”

You nod in comprehension and watch her walk to a bowl of water to wash her hands before she pulls the kettle out of the fire to now prepare some tea or something you can’t figure out yet.

“It’s nice talking to another woman,” you share with no shame and with no kind of hesitation to her warnings. “My handmaiden Vanessa stayed behind, and so did Helaena. It’s just me and a bunch of men. Only Aemond doesn’t let me converse with any, so it’s mostly him, and Ser Gwayne. So it’s nice talking to you.”

Alys stops mashing some kind of herbs and blinks repeatedly as if caught in disbelief over your words before she slowly lifts her gaze and looks at you with this different gleam in her eyes. It’s much softer, but still bright that it makes it look like she’s smiling with her eyes before an actual smile paints on her features.

“Daemon was much colder and distant, you—”

“Ew,” you cut her off with disgust. “Never ever compare me to him. That’s…no.”

She giggles and besides your disgust, you laugh quietly along with her. You share a laugh until the door is ripped open and Aemond stomps inside with a glare already set on Alys.

“If you’re done let’s go,” he says through gritted teeth as he snaps his gaze to you.

“It’s quite alright,” she tries to assure him as she mixes the hot water and herbs she dumps in a cup. “I don’t bite.”

Aemond drags his gaze back to her and passes her a glare without returning any word. He just glares at her before he looks back at you and presses his insistence to leave.

“I’m going,” you whisper sharply as you make your way to him, whilst Alys makes her way to you—“she was just checking on me and your twins.” You snap and he presses his glare at you, making you roll your eyes in return.

When you reach Aemond’s side, Alys reaches you, so he grabs your wrist and steps back, but you stay grounded.

“Drink this, it’s red raspberry leaf tea. For you and your babes,” she says and offers you the cup which you take without question.

“Thank you, Alys,” you tell her with a gentle smile as you slide your arm up to grab Aemond’s hand.

“And if you,” she directs at him. “Find yourself having…sleepless nights, I can make you something to aid in that. You need only ask.”

Aemond’s gaze hardens as he hums before he turns around swiftly, making his hair turn dramatically. Before you leave Alys behind you offer her one last smile, and then catch up to Aemond’s side so he’s not dragging you with him.

“I went to look for you at our chambers and you were not there,” he says in annoyance, but you brush him off.

“She was merely checking on me and the twins. That’s all.”

Aemond stops walking, and you stop with him. Before he can face you he mutters. “Then talk to a maester or a midwife. Not some…whatever she is.”

“Healer,” you avoid saying witch so he doesn’t overreact. “And if you must know the twins are fine. Strong, she says.”

Aemond turns slowly with a change in his expression; going from upset and overly concerned to relieved and soft.

“Are they?” He probes as he reaches over and gently caresses your belly.

“Mhm-hmm,” you reassure him with a hum. “Getting bigger.”

The corner of his lips twitch up very faintly and you just watch him with a blissful smile before you glance down at him pressing his hand against your belly.

“<That's good,>” he whispers in High Valyrian.

You press your hand over his and smile wider, which is something he catches now and studies for a lingering moment before he then snatches the cup in your hand and throws it back.

“Aemond!”

“You’re not drinking that,” he deadpans and continues walking.

It’s not like you can collect the tea off the ground so you follow at his side. “You’re being dramatic,” you mumble.

“No. You don’t know her,” he argues. “It could be poison. I’m just protecting you and the twins.”

He is right to be wary, so you don’t argue, but to throw out the tea like that?!

Regardless, with nothing to be done over the spilled tea when you make it to your quarters, you once again hesitate and stiffen at the sight of your new dark chambers with a leaking roof.

At least there’s a hot bath ready now.

“Bathe with me, my love,” you tell Aemond over your shoulder, and at that moment catch him still in the hall, seeming to be staring at something in particular that has him stiff, his nose flared, and his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Aemond?” You call out and walk back out, catching a simple dark empty corridor. “What is it?” You query and grab his hand to tug it and gain his attention. “Aemond?”

Said man’s lips curl as if he’s getting upset at the emptiness, so you step in front of him and find his lost gaze.

“What is it?” You ask with concern and finally, his attention finds you after being somewhere far away. “Are you okay?”

His gaze flickers behind you for a second before he looks back at you and nods. You question him speechlessly as you’re hesitant to believe him, but he presses a kiss on your forehead and finally heads inside.

“Come on,” he whispers, but before you follow him back inside you steal a glance at the end of the corridor first. When you find it empty once again you just head back inside your chambers.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“The prisoner as you requested,” a man says as he pushes the Strong boy in front of Aemond and you, letting Aemond and you share the same mischievous look before he steps forward and simply studies the boy.

After a minute of silence, he steps before him, towering over his kneeled figure and looking at him with a pointed glare. “I will say I am…surprised you managed to avoid getting burnt,” he breaks the silence in his menacing low voice. “It is for that sole reason that the Princess Regent has granted you a chance to live.”

The boy blinks repeatedly in disbelief and shifts on his knees but doesn’t dare to look up at the lurking menace before him.

“A simple trial by combat,” Aemond reveals, making a crowd of men begin to gather in the tall and long great hall. “I’m sure you are aware how that works or do you need someone to explain it to you?”

The boy shakes his head. “No, I know.”

Aemond shifts his feet around and looks at the ground before he slowly scales his gaze up your figure before meeting your gaze with a sense of hesitation in his eye. All because he isn’t a big fan of your plan. He only agreed to it after a lot of persuading.

“Albeit,” you interject and walk forward, catching the young man’s attention, and making Aemond watch you walk forward until you reach his side—“there’s a change in the rules. You cannot pick your champion, you will fight, but you can pick your opponent between fighters we have chosen for today.”

The young man’s eyes widen before he drops his gaze to the ground and dares to argue. “But…”

“You can always choose death,” Aemond cuts him off, and the young man closes his mouth and stays quiet, responding to Aemond’s comment at that moment.

“If you win you get to be free, and if they win well…” you trail off since there’s no need to finish the rest, he knows what will happen. “Here are your choices,” you gain his attention once again.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower,” you announce and point to the knight. “Ser Criston Cole. Prince Aemond Targaryen,” you say and look at your husband who is hoping he is the one picked for today's trial. “Or…me.” You smirk, and the young man of course doesn’t reflect any sort of amusement. He looks rather baffled and slightly horrified that you, a woman, would offer to be his opponent.

“Don't worry you will get to wear armor,” you try to reassure him, but that’s not what he’s worried about.

“But the Prince is the Prince, I cannot harm him,” he argues as he shakes his head in denial, making you grow annoyed rather quickly.

“Choose,” you urge him impatiently.

The young man looks between Aemond, you, and the two knights behind you. He debates for a long moment, bringing tension to the hall until finally a shaky finger points at you.

“Good,” you whisper with a smug smile that slowly spreads on your lips. “Why don’t you help him don some armor,” you direct at the guards and start to turn to Aemond.

“No,” the young man cuts in, pulling your eyes back to him—“I do not require it. I am good as I am.”

And there it is, overconfidence because you’re a woman. You admire it.

“Are you sure?” You make sure to ask, but he doesn’t think it over, he nods, making you scoff softly before you turn to your husband whilst the young man is pulled off his knees to be prepared for the duel.

“I could take your place,” Aemond tries to protest. “I know you can fight, but you do not have to.”

You grab his arm and shake your head. “No I do not have to, but I want to. I can. And he is already doubting me. I will use that and win.”

Aemond swallows thickly and still looks unconvinced.

“I will be okay,” you assure him softly as you slide your hand down his arm to grab his hand. “You have to trust that I can win. Alright?”

Aemond draws in a deep breath and steals a glance at the young man getting a sword handed to him.

“I don’t know, it takes one swing,” Aemond argues and returns his gaze to you to plead with his eye as well. “And you are with child. No, you cannot.”

“I will,” you press and grab his other arm to lean in closer. “I have fought men much more threatening than him and won, and I have learned from good men like you.”

Aemond’s gaze falls and he shakes his head. “You more so stalked our training.”

You chuckle softly and his lips twitch but he can’t find amusement in your laugh, he only finds more reasons to stop you.

“Aemond,” you insist softly. “I will be fine. I will win. I won’t die today.”

Aemond’s gaze slowly drifts past you and fixates on something. You slowly follow his line of gaze and see nothing but a group of men waiting eagerly for the duel, so you look back at him and cup his cheek

“I will be fine,” you say one more time to reassure him and then lean in to press a kiss on his cheek.

“At least use Blackfyre then,” he quips as he has no other choice but to accept your decision. “If he’s a great fighter he will win regardless of what sword you use.”

He pulls the sword out of its sheath, and you gladly take the massive Valyrian steel sword.

“<Be careful>,” he finally says in High Valyrian, making you nod in comprehension before you let him press a kiss on your cheek.

Before he pulls back he keeps his face close to yours, letting his breath unfurl over your cheek, and his lips grazing on your flesh. You stay in his presence and take in his gentle gesture before you tilt your head and slowly press a kiss on his thin lips before you pull away and walk to the middle of the circle the audience of men has created in anticipation and curiosity.

The young man slowly follows suit and rather than looking nervous, he looks rather determined and quite vengeful. Rightfully so, but let’s see if all those emotions will help win.

He does start right away by stalking around you, which gives him an edge, but you're quick to fix your stance while you follow his figure with your eyes until he's finally face to face with you again, glare narrowed and full of fury. He parts lips and you wait for a word to slip, something to express the grief and the anger, but instead, he lets out a deep guttural scream before he sprints at you and throws a harsh swing that you avert by stepping back with your hand relaxed.

The man sees that you swerved, so he reacts with a growl before he follows with another swing that you once again avert by turning away swiftly.

This only infuriates the young man more so he grabs his sword with both hands and brings his hands back to swing down at your head. You, albeit, quickly swing Blackfyre up and let your swords sing in the tense silence that fills the hall.

“That’s right,” you whisper as you hold his gaze overfilled with anger, and those two simple words only trigger him further, causing him to shove you back with all his strength to the point you stumble but react with a grin.

The young man lunges at you out of anger, but you’re quick, you meet his action and use all of your strength to push away his sword. He then quickly throws his arm back up, but you once again meet his swing. This time though you see that he’s focused on your upper body so you use your leg to kick him back.

The young man stumbles back and you take advantage of the rush passing through your system and stomp toward him. He quickly finds balance and swings hard at your neck with an angry bark leaving his lips, but you duck, and as you’re swinging down past his blade, you swiftly twirl the sword around in your hand to pass it to your non-dominant hand over your back. When you’re standing to your given height you reach your dominant hand back to rip your cloak off and hurl it at his face the same way you saw Ser Jason do to his opponent when you watched him fight for the first time. And like when you studied his fight you actually manage to catch the man off guard and block his view. Just the way you wanted.

Thus just as the man grabs the cloak on his face and begins to pull it off, you swing your sword and manage to slice his head clean off his neck, ending the fight, and proving you the winner.

Now that nail-biting tension slowly slips away, the nervousness on the men’s faces gathered around fall and a mix of disbelief and pride begins to seep through. And as much as you rejoice in the people’s reactions, and find an immense pride in proving men wrong by winning, you turn to look at Aemond first and foremost. You meet his gaze and get lost in his eye, causing everyone and everything around you to slip away and only leave you and him in the hall full of people.

There you are in your own little world, relishing in your achievement, proving you are strong and capable, someone worth fearing just like him, and Aemond can’t offer you anything else but a soft prideful smile as his eyes offer the same emotion, but also an intense awe. And no matter how much you like the attention of other people, the praise, and demonstrating that you are a fearsome thing to behold, all that matters at that moment is Aemond’s reaction. Everything else is meaningless compared to the pride and praise he offers you with his smile and that look in his eye. That’s all you need, all you could ever want.

“Let’s give a cheer to the Princess Regent!” Ser Gwayne breaks you away from your moment with Aemond before you can run over to him. “Princess!”

“Princess!”

“Princess!” The cheers fill the room, ridding the hall of all that tension that once held a grip on everyone. After seeing you come out of that dragon fire unscathed they thought of you as some demon from the seven hells or some damn curse, but now that’s all quick to vanish after you won your duel. Now every man that is fighting for the Greens is filled with admiration and respect for you.

All except Ser Criston, of course. You find him through the crowd gathering around you. He carries a look of disgust as he looks at you in the center of attention after having won a hand-to-hand duel. He hears all the praise in their cheers and sees the way they all crowd around you to be close to you, but he cannot see what they do. You’re like the eye of the storm in a sea, captivating perhaps, calm looking, but you’re completely dangerous and carry the potential to destroy everything in your path just like your mother.

You see straight through that, you note his disgust and don’t get shamed by it. You’re not belittled, you raise your nose in the air and shoot him a malicious smirk before you flash him a grin and turn away to give your attention to the men around you. You relish the praise and the celebration all meant for you.

For a while at least until you’ve had enough and slip away while they’re all busy talking amongst each other, and go in search of Aemond.

However, you find it difficult to find him when he’s not where you last saw him. He’s gone so you have a choice to wait for him to return because you’re sure he will since you’re out here, or you can go find him.

It’s a rather easy decision, you choose the latter as you have a bubbling excitement to talk to Aemond about the way you fought.

Yet when you leave the great hall and find yourself within the dimly lit corridors, you catch Ser Criston talking to Aemond just above a rather pressing whisper. You almost just reveal your presence by joining the pair, but you then catch your name and instead hide behind a wall with Ser Jason listening beside you.

“…too extreme. She cannot be allowed to be doing such barbaric acts. Not in front of the army of men, not in front of servants with slippery tongues.” He says in regards to your duel, and you wait with your breath held for Aemond’s response, hoping he will counter this rather stupid argument that comes from what? Misogyny? Ser Criston has never cared enough to worry about your well-being.

“Why would I do that?” Aemond snaps back, making a slow relieved breath escape past your nose—“She’s a fighter. A warrior with a great capability, far greater than most men here. She’s also a dragonrider, a talented one at that. Why should I care what people think or say about her in regard to her talents? She’s a Targaryen.”

The corner of your lips slowly pulls up whilst you hear feet shuffle against the stone ground.

“She may be all things you say and more, sure, but she is Rhaenyra’s daughter, Aemond. Don’t you see?” Ser Criston argues sharply and with a loss of patience in his tone. “What would the people think when they hear the whispers about her winning battles and duels?”

“I do not care!” Aemond loses his own patience, making butterflies flutter in your stomach at the sound of how desperately he’s defending you against a man who is his mentor, and like a father.

“She is my wife before she is Rhaenyra’s daughter! She is mine!”

“Then think about your unborn children!” Ser Criston cuts Aemond off in that heat of the moment with a sharper tone in his voice that pierces right through Aemond’s quick-rising rage—“It takes one lunge Aemond, one strong hit against her belly and you lose it all. Your legacy is threatened. Everything you’re fighting for will falter if you lose them over something you can prevent by keeping her away from these duels and battle plans.”

There’s a moment of silence that grows tense for you as you await Aemond’s response like waiting for bad or good news. Then again that is what it is to you, no matter how hard you may fight, Aemond still holds a lot of power over you. You see it, you recognize it, and you slightly fear it only because of the insecurities you hold for being pushed aside and locked away like some exotic bird only needed to be gawked at.

“But that’s it, Ser Criston,” Aemond responds clearly and calmly. Which is far more frightening than if he spoke with anger clinging onto his voice. “If it’s a choice between them and her. I chose her. Legacy be damned. We can always make more.” He finishes with a soft huff before you hear his heels turn against the stone and then click against the hard surface louder and louder as he approaches where you hide, making you bold and step out of the shadows.

When you’re under the revealing fire casting down from the walls, Aemond comes to an immediate halt and his eyes widen as his heart seems to fall to his stomach.

“Ser Criston,” you greet dryly at the man at the end of the corridor, making him avert his gaze and bow his head.

You pierce your glare into him until he escapes down the other corridor, letting you then face Aemond with a softer gaze that brings a sweet smile to your face.

“You heard?” He asks.

You nod without hesitation or shame. “I did. You are arguing in a corridor.”

He holds your gaze and then hums before he starts to walk, making you walk with him at the same pace.

“Thank you, I appreciate you supporting my decisions to be involved,” you say sweetly and reach for his hand, realizing at that moment how stiff he is, but not questioning it, just thinking it’s this castle and its eeriness.

“By the way I’m going to scout on Astraea, make sure there’s nothing lurking in the forest,” you bring up hopefully.

“Alright,” he gives in, making you beam at him before you lean in and press a kiss on his cheek.

“I won’t be long.” You assure him. “I will make sure to not engage in anything that might give me away this time. Swear.”

Aemond scoffs softly in amusement and strokes your knuckles with his thumb before the cold air hits his hand when you pull away and hurry down the hall to go to your dragon. Yet as fast as you are he catches up to you to watch you leave and make sure that what? You don’t slip off the rope ladders hanging on Astraea’s side?

Whatever the reason he follows you until he reaches an arch that leads to Astraea resting on the side of a hill. He stays leaning against it as you mount your dragon and ascend to the grey skies. It’s only once the sight of you is lost amongst the clouds that he turns away.

Nevertheless, when he faces the courtyard in front of the weirwood tree he comes to an immediate halt when he sees him again. A ghost haunting him since the moment he stepped foot in this haunting castle. It’s Lucerys Velaryon once again, standing there with a shadow cast behind him, looking at him with a pointed gaze, and a disappointed frown.

Like the other times before he doesn’t say a word, he just stands there watching him, as if threatening him, overlooking every action he takes. Especially when it comes to you. Like many times before he feels the need to react, to tell him to go away, but before he can part his lips he comes to his senses and realizes he’s not real. He's just some illusion. So with that thought in mind, he intends to walk away, but then the unexpected happens, Lucerys eyes drift up and he watches something in the sky.

Aemond doesn’t want to pay him any mind, but as if he has no control he slowly looks up and sees you returning.

You must’ve forgotten something or seen something.

Thus he turns back around to return to the arch and wait for you to land, but the moment he faces that arch Lucerys is standing under it, watching him again quietly until suddenly he parts his lips and it’s as if he’s really there. “You’re going to kill her.”

Aemond turns away swiftly but there Lucerys is again!

“Just like you killed me.”

“It was an accident!” Aemond barks out and storms toward Lucerys until he’s before him. “It was an accident,” he says quieter but through gritted teeth as his irritation heightens.

“Was it an accident when you slashed her cheek?”

“Yes.” He answers without hesitation or deceit because it was a stupid accident.

“How about when you seeked the company of that whore?” Lucerys quickly counters, making Aemond grow quiet this time and letting Lucerys continue. “It's inevitable, that’s who you are. What you are. You will be her death.”

Aemond shakes his head as his eye quickly wells with tears. “No,” his voice cracks. “You’re wrong. She means much more to me than you ever did. I ride the biggest dragon! I am a skilled swordsman! She will not die by my watch! She will not die. No. She’s mine.”

Lucerys chuckles dryly, causing Aemond to look him up and down with a curled lip.

“Keep telling yourself she won’t die if that’s what helps you sleep—”

“I will not send her away!” Aemond bellows back before Lucerys can finish. “Her mother lied to her and pushed her away! Her grandfather prefers bastards over his own kin! There’s no place for her to go! She’s safe here with me because I will not harm her. You’re wrong! You’re dead!”

Lucerys nods. “I am, but you’re wrong, her mother loves her, you know that. Just like you know she’ll welcome my sister back with open arms. That’s the difference between you and her.”

Aemond shakes his head. “Her place is here with me,” he whispers with a quiver in his voice.

Once again Lucerys nods as if assuring Aemond’s claim before he whispers this time. “Okay.”

Aemond blinks repeatedly to blink away the tears, but at that moment he hears it, a screech ripping through the air. He snaps his head up and right away he is welcomed with the horrifying sight of an arrow pierced through Astraea’s eye, killing her instantly, and setting her plummeting to the lake behind the Godswood.

Aemond gasps your name and before he could even think he sets off toward the lake, forgetting the ghost haunting him, and only thinking about you, hoping—no, praying that you are okay.

He can’t fathom Lucerys being right, he can’t let himself imagine your death. It terrifies him to his very core, so as he runs and runs as fast as his long legs can carry him, he builds up the illusion that you can survive that fall, and that you will just hit that water and walk to shore with a beating heart, and just simply shaken up.

He doesn’t think of the realistic outcome. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t! Not even when he makes it to the Gods Eye and sees your body washing up ashore. He just tricks himself into thinking you’re passed out, he ignores the blood running out of your mouth and your nose. He ignores how lifeless your body looks when he drags you out of the water and cradles you there on the sandy ground.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” he whispers as he wipes the blood and the water off your face.

You won’t open your eyes, but that will take time, he tells himself, so he waits. He keeps you in his arms and keeps wiping off the blood that keeps running out of you. Even if his hands get covered in the thick crimson liquid he keeps wiping it off your face, hoping that with his gentle touches, you’ll wake.

But you don’t. Your eyes stay closed, your chest keeps still, and the heart in your chest that he keeps feeling with his palm remains lifeless.

“Wake up,” he whispers and leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Come on. I have you, you’re okay now…” he trails off and lowers his gaze to wait for a breath to escape you, but your lips remain closed, and your nostrils unmoving.

“It’s not funny,” he hisses. “Wake up!”

He waits desperately. Pathetically so, but you don't laugh, or break into a smile. Your face is stiff, slowly proving his worst fear. “Please don’t do this to me, my love. Please, please.”

Tears run down his cheeks before he has a chance to process that they were building up, while his chest is hit with the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. And the only way he can expel a fraction of that suffering that torments him so is by letting a wail rip out from the depths chest; one so broken and raw that his throat and chest hurt altogether. It’s so unlike him to let out such an emotion so loudly but there’s no other way to express what he feels inside and what makes it hard to breathe with how choked up he gets.

And yet he tries to keep pleading, he calls out your name over and over again with every word trembling and accompanied by a tear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m sorry. Please, I can’t…I can’t keep roaming this world without you. It won’t make sense. Please.”

“I told you,” he hears Lucerys whisper, hitting him with a burning fury. Yet when he snaps his head back Lucerys is not there. It’s that strange woman, Alys, looking at him with that same frown Lucerys carried, but a different look in her eyes than Lucerys’. She looks at him without fear, no respect, just a shameless icy look.

“You have to help her,” he ignores her piercing glare and glances back at you to reposition you in his arms so he can get up, but when he looks back at his arms where he once held you, you’re gone and the blood that once covered his hands is also gone. He then looks over at the lake in search of Astraea, but nothing is in the water. You’re not even in the sky…

It was all…fake…

It was all a cruel trick, but one that helps him realize what he must do in regards to you, so you don’t suffer the fate he just saw.

A/N- Conversations with Alys reminds me of how young mc really is.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens

119 notes · View notes

mashiraostail · 8 months

Note

your gang orca praise kink stuff goes soooo crazy please give us some gentle dom praising from halsin w Fem reader PLEASE

glad u like it thank u!!

yall are crazy outing your praise kink in my ask box. Ask and u shall receive tho!!! Kind of a long one, i care for u guys so I have to feed u.

NSFW under the cut!

Aches blossomed like weeds all over your poor body. Maybe you should have brought Halsin along on this one, a healer would have done you well about 3 hours ago. He stayed back, or perhaps he went on his own way for the day. For all your not seeing eye to eye Astarion was seemingly happy to help you hobble along with an arm slung over his shoulder.

He's biting something back and Karlach all but shoves it out of him.

"Thank you. For...taking those hits for me." He rolls his eyes when he says it, but it does nothing to veil his grateful tone, "i can't imagine it was pleasant."

"It wasn't." You muse back, "but you're helping me along."

"Well-" He sputters, "I figured you could take it since you have Halsin waiting for you with baited breath every night."

He was right, you did. He tried to be subtle, to give everyone a once over after a hard day, but he always lingered on you. He liked you, perhaps more, it was obvious. At least when you stumble back to camp he has a reason to make a b-line to you first.

"What happened?" He takes you from Astarion, who snickers a bit at you.

"Nothing, just the typical day." You shrug.

"Is everyone else okay?" Bless him, he feigns interest in the other 3 trailing behind you.

"Don't worry." Wyll waves, "we'll live."

"Come with me." He doesn't even respond to Wyll, he was not as good of an actor as he hoped to be.

You go with him, not that he gave you much of a choice, guiding you away before he could even finish. He settles you down by a shallow river not too far off from camp. He brings a bowl and a rag, with a small sack of supplies to clean you off with.

"I know you're capable." He starts, as he wipes layers of blood and grime away from your skin, "i'm not underestimating you-"

"I understand." You cut him off before he can prattle off into a nervous explanation as to why he seems to favor you over the others when you're injured.

You fall back into silence as he cleans you off.

"Look up at me." Fingers on your chin crane your gaze up to him, if he's trying to be seductive it has certainly worked, and if he wasn't it was cruel. He's scanning your face, his eyes meet your gaze.

"Will I live?" There's a coyness to your voice that just about knocks him off balance.

"Yes, lucky me. Does your head hurt?"

"Not at all." You felt better, under his caring hands, there was a dull soreness now, it overtook the harsh and stinging aches.

It was already dark, nobody had bothered to call the pair of you for dinner, perhaps more knowing than they let on.

"Can I do anything else for you?" He asks, kneeling now but still tall enough to be gazing down at you. The dull light of your lantern made him glow.

"No-" Suddenly you can't play coy anymore, it's like his sucked the air out of your lungs, he takes your hand.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" when he asks he traces his fingers over the back of your knuckles.

"Of course." You nod, something flutters under your ribs. He brushes his lips over the back of your hand, and it lights you up. It's such a silly, small, innocuous gesture, but it makes your stomach warm.

"Thank you." He looks up from the back of your hand to catch your gaze.

You kiss your teeth, your mouth feels dry all of a sudden, "why thank me?"

"Because you're allowing me." Halsin murmurs it, "I'm grateful to be let so close to you." He kisses his way up your arm in a galant gesture, though it makes you feel light headed none the less. When he reaches the crook of your neck, the shallow divot where your shoulder ends he stops, and drops your arm gently onto your lap.

"You can act modest, or play coy," He continues despite the lack of contact, which makes you feel cold and even more exposed then when he's ravishing you. "But you know how I want you. You indulge me."

"Please," You're fluttering, you try to sound casual but you're fluttering like a moth and Halsin is a big, bright fire drawing you in. "it's self serving."

"Even better." He elects to sit beside you, "indulge yourself in me."

"Oh gods." You feel hot, in the back of your neck, in your chest, between your legs.

"What?" Halsin reaches for you, you let him, he wraps an arm around you, he draws you in. "don't you want to?"

"I do-" You're practically whining despite the fact he has not denied you, and probably never would. You turn your face into his neck, nosing at his collar. He makes a pleased noise at the feeling, and brings a hand up to cup your hair.

"Then tell me what you want. You can have it, you deserve it. Anything, just tell me."

You aren't sure when you make your way into his lap, when the desire to taste his skin becomes so potent that you have no choice but to glide your tongue over his collar bone. He's happy to rub up your back and thighs, to pull your closer by the back of your head.

"Is it me you want?"

You moan, gasping, you aren't sure when you started rutting against his leg, but he seems all the more happy to have you there so you cast aside the sheer embarrassment of it all.

"You can have it, you can have me. All you have to do is take it. I'll let you, I'm yours for the taking."

You practically cry at that, you aren't sure when you'd become so pent up.

"You can have me." One of his hands is holding onto the bend of your hip, guiding them against his leg in a languid rolling pace, "you already do. You deserve it, all of it, whatever you want. Tell me."

You let him take your shirt off, you're more than keen to free him of his.

"I must have been particulalry well behaved in my past life." For a breif moment his hand releases your hips and he's gliding rough palms over your chest and stomach, "you're such a lovely thing..." He ducks down, kisses at your chest, pulling you away from the perfect friction of his thigh to the warm heat of his mouth and tongue.

He's kissing, licking and nipping at the newly exposed skin while his hands trail over your ass, up your back and thighs, drawing you in impossibly closer to his mouth.

"I'd give you the world, anything you'd ask." He pushes the small of your back, guiding you back down onto his lap, "but you only want me?"

"Do you really feel that way? That I should have whatever I ask for? Whatever I want?"

The sight of your chest heaving, glistening from his mouth makes him groan, "how could I not? Tell me what you want, My hands? My mouth?"

You feel on the verge of passing out, terrible and blissful all at once.

He lifts you as he stands, but just a quickly sets you down again laying on your back.

"Are you sore?" His hands hold your waist, his nose is at your jaw, "I'd be content just to stay here, looking at you, kissing you. We would not need to anything more to sate me." He assures you, "the sight of you like this alone would be enough to satisfy me for lifetimes to come."

"No." You're breathless, you shake your head.

"No?" Despite what he's said he sounds hopeful, grateful, pleased even.

"No." All you can think to do is repeat him. You help him help you out of your pants.

"Will you let me?" He's already lowering himself between your legs, you flush.

"You hardly have to ask permission."

"Yes?" He pushes you for it anyways, of course you indulge him.

"Yes."

It's been hundreds of years, of course he was an attentive and...skilled lover, but this was almost too much.

Your back arched off the ground, his hands were there, big and warm and slightly rough, he held your waist there his fingers wrapping around to the small of your back where it arched. Where they held you his hands pulled you closer, just barely.

He didn't protest when your thighs closed around his head, when they squeezed, or when your hands pulled him impossibly closer by his hair. In fact he sounded more than pleased at all of the above. Every time he had a spare breath he was singing you praises. You were perfect, you cried out for him perfectly, and you were so easy to love.

His hands squeezed your waist where they held you, he groaned every time you called his name.

When you do reach your climax it almost blinds you for a second, but Halsin doesn't seem interested in letting you rest until you force him off with a keening sort of whine at the overstimulation.

"I'm sorry," He's kissing at your legs, your lower stomach and up your ribs ravenously, "I can't bring myself to stop with you."

It's so easy to open yourself up to him, to let him take and for you to take what you want.

"You're so lovely." He's kissing around your chest, subtly gasping for you air, "I'd mistake you for an angel if not for the things we do together." He guides your legs around him, closing the small amount of space left between you.

"If I didn't know you to be so truly good then I'd mistake you for something much more sinister than an angel, considering the spell you must have put on me." He's arching up into your hands, turning and preening at every touch and heavy breath, "do you know what you have done to me?"

Eventually you stop your head spinning enough to fumble with his pants, until there's nothing at all between you.

"I was taken by you from our first meeting," He groans as you undress him, "but all the things I dreamt have been put to shame at the feeling of the reality of it in my hands." He takes in an uneven breath as your hands run over his cock, you turn your head to open your neck to him, he's glad to muffle himself into it. The feeling of his low groans vibrates the crook of your neck. You arch your back, pressing your chest into his which seems to set him over the edge.

"You're the most lovely thing I've ever laid my hands on, please, say you'll have me." As if it wasn't obvious, as if you weren't laying naked below him, blossoming at his lips and fingertips.

He guides himself easily into you It’s hardly painful, it barely stings, it tingles up to your stomach, and it’s pleasant. A blooming sort of feeling that you often pined for once it was gone. It was fleeting and easily missed when it dissipated. He's captivated by you, your expressions, the way you cry out, the wavering in your voice.

As with all things, he's incredibly gracious with you, giving you long, deep rolls of his hips and easy praise. He enjoys watching you melt from it, it makes his chest warm with affection.

"You're divine," He doesn't mind your arms around his neck, he holds you closer with a hand between your shoulder blades, "every single time." He enjoys the feeling of your hand holding the back of his head too.

"Every time I swear you can have me, but you're always bent at my will aren't you? Beautiful, obedient, and mine for the taking. Look at me."

All you can do is obey and nod, maybe a bit dumbly. You wrap your legs tighter around him, there was no way you'd last very long in this state. He holds you by your chin, he keeps his eyes on you whenever you cum, muttering out obscene praises. Occasionally he'll use his hold on you to turn your head to the side, to observe your throat, he swears he can see your pulse beating.

When the pair of you are finished Halsin seems perfectly fine to dip into the shallow river, it hardly reaches his waist.

"Come here," He insists, "I'll hold you."

"is it cold?" You roll over to see him.

"No, barely." He waves you over, and fuck, you're still coming down from your high, still bent at his will. You go to him, you let him guide you by your hand into the river, once you're close enough he holds the crook of your elbow, then the bend of your waist.

You rest your head against his chest as he runs wet hands over your hair.

"Many people have held my favor in my life," He looks down at you, "but I don't recall ever being so enthralled by someone." He runs a wet hand down the side of your face, "some days I dread the thought of our paths diverging."

"Don't think you'll be rid of me so easily" You manage to be a bit cheeky. Despite yourself you brush gentle fingers over the side of his neck, he closes his eyes thankfully.

"Kiss me." His voice is quiet but steadfast. Of course you go to him.

When he pulls away it's just enough to speak, "you know I adore you, tell me you do."

"I know." You grin and push his damp hair back, "you're especially sentimental today."

"I suppose I...must have missed your company." He decides, "we usually travel together."

"Is that it? I'm not complaining, maybe we'll travel separately more often."

He groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up, "don't be cruel to me when you were so well behaved all night. I'm not sure what I'll do."

You laugh, bracing yourself against his chest as he prepares to drop you into the river, "no please, I swear to keep you dutifully at my side from now on, just don't drop me in this water!"

He's ravishing your neck again, your laughter made his chest burn with affection, "I truly can never deny you."

You have a feeling tonight may be a longer night than average.

#halsin x reader #bg3 #Halsin #bg3 x reader #bauldrs gate 3 #bauldrs gate 3 x reader #halsin bg3

292 notes · View notes

sidmakestuff · 1 year

Text

Fast Track

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You see him on the train on your daily commute. You secretly pine. and pine. and pine...and pine. Day after day. And then you finally get a chance to talk to him. Warnings: Angst w/happy ending, hurt/comfort, use of y/n, very insecure and soft bucky, reader using petnames slightly excessively, swearing, some references to sex, mdni!

Hope you enjoy :) Leave me some feedback pls and thx xx

You took the B train every Monday through Friday at seven in the morning. You got off at the seventh stop every Monday through Friday at seven thirty in the morning. You smiled politely at the muscular stranger who shared your stop at seven thirty in the morning. Even though he never really smiled back, only sometimes gracing you with a slight nod of his head.

You talked to everyone on the train. It started as a nervous habit. Nerves were easily appeased once you complimented a stranger and their tight-lips transformed into a glowing smile at the flattery. It was always genuine; you never made up a compliment. It wasn’t that hard to find at least one nice thing about someone, and it was worth it to be able to fall into conversation with them over constant conversation with yourself and your mind that was usually trying to convince you that you were always out of place.

Over the years, you knew every face on the seven am B train. You knew their lives, what they did, who they loved, and sometimes even made some kind friends in your neighborhood.

You knew everyone from Mr Delmar, who always watched out for you, to Peter Parker, who was always far too bruised up for a high school kid, to the humblest of men, Steve Rogers, who grew to love you as a kind soul with the remarkable ability to put themselves in anyone’s shoes and imagine quite accurately how they must feel, a compassion you extended even to him, something you said was not difficult at all, which Steve found hard to believe. But, chip by chip, you aided him in changing how he viewed himself. People did not deserve to see themselves any less than they were, least of all Steve Rogers, you told him.

Yet, of course, there had to be one remaining obstacle, one last stranger you never got to know. He didn’t really intimidate you, though you got the impression that that was his intent. You supposed, as a woman taking the New York subway, you should be wary of a tall, muscular man, dressed in dark clothing. You weren’t to be mistaken for a foolish woman. You carried around a taser the size of your forearm and pepper spray was always hardly a second out of grasp. You looked for an exit to every room you walked in. You worked for S.H.I.E.L.D for fuck’s sake. Even if you were just an engineer, you had taken self defense classes since your first day of work. Caution was in your blood at this point.

This man should have set off every red flag, and still, there was something endearing about his slightly crooked walk, his uneven shoulders and long strides. His stubble grew in all different directions as if no one taught him to shave. There was some constant uncertainty in his certain gaze. There was something remarkable at how human he was with his little ear buds and his strangely gloved hands. You wondered what he listened to every morning. You could only guess and those guesses ran from the Beatles to Motley Crue.

But then there were his eyes. Lighter eye shades usually came off more deceptive; you favored coffee colored irises like Peter’s–coupled with his childlike wonder and affliction for trouble, it made you relax around him immediately. But this man’s eyes, despite being a striking cerulean, were much, much too soft for a dangerous man. There was something so utterly tender about him that had you catching your breath far more often than you’d like.

It’s also what stopped you from exchanging words with him, fear that those eyes would turn on you in anger, something you didn’t feel that you could bear. An odd weight on your chest for a literal stranger. You chalked it up to social anxiety, though you knew there was more to it.

Still, it wasn’t for a lack of trying that you still hadn’t gotten to know him. You had wordlessly offered him many a bagel, a donut, a bear claw, a puff pastry, for crying out loud, but he had always politely waved you off, ears red in what you assumed to be annoyance. You felt a little dismissed, like Pooh trying to invite Eeyore to come play, but you knew this was likely how he treated everyone, and eventually gave into being content with knowing the people you knew. You weren’t one for a challenge that made you look stupid. You knew your place.

You still wondered what he did, though. Your stop was the same, but your routes after were different, yet you swore you saw him around S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters sometimes.

It was nearing two years of seeing him on the B train that you found out what he did. You were on your short walk from the cafe near Delmar’s where you got your morning latte, humming softly as you passed alleyway after alleyway. You were almost to the station when you caught sight of a familiar silhouette. On his knees, head in hands, there was your mystery man. No doubt about it, it was him. It was the same kevlar jacket, the same dark wash jeans and steel-toed boots, the same uneven shoulders.

You hesitated, paused beside the alley, facing him. His breaths came far too frequent and far too short, visible in the cold Brooklyn air. This was one of your worst ideas, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him stumble through this, quite awfully you might add. Unfortunately for him, it looked like he didn’t know a single coping mechanism to get through a panic attack. Hell, you doubted he even knew that he was even having a panic attack.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what lay ahead, and approached him.

He didn’t notice you at first, hands ungloved, revealing that one of them was made of some sort of expensive metal. It looked like it could crush you in a second. You gulped, certain you didn’t want to scare him, and quietly called out, “Hey, there.”

He turned to you in an instant, a hand dropping to his waistline. Oh my god, he was armed, too. What had you gotten yourself into?

You knew that looking scared wouldn’t help, though. You slowly dropped to your knees as well, your worried eyes locked with his terrified ones.

“Hi, honey,” you began, your lips suddenly feeling dry.

He was still panicking, one hand on his chest, but he didn’t say a word.

You tried your best to only focus on what he needed at the moment. You dropped your bag to the ground and put your near empty coffee beside it.

“It looks like you’re having a panic attack. I think I can help you.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, hands shaking terribly. “Can I give you my hand?” you ask.

He hesitates, drawing his hand closer to his body, as if his body language could be any more inward.

“I’m not going to hurt you, love, I promise. I only want to help.” He relaxes slightly at your steady tone. He reached his flesh hand out for you to take. You grab it with both of yours and inch closer to him. You can feel how warm he is, hands slightly sweaty from panic, the pulse in his wrist thundering.

“These things always end. Know that. It’s going to be over soon,” you reassure, watching as sweat builds on his temple.

His eyes are restless, looking over you and around you, never pausing. “Focus on me, sweetheart. Just look at me. Yes, there you go. Let yourself breathe. You’re going to get through this. I know it’s stupid hard for no reason and you feel helpless, but just trust me when I say you’ll get through this.”

He gave you a curt nod, grateful eyes staying on yours.

“Can you tell me your name, honey?”

He nearly choked, voice shaky as he rasped out, “Bucky.”

Your eyes flashed in recognition. You didn’t want to say anything that might trigger him yet, though, so you softened your features and smiled. “Sweet. That’s a sweet name. I like it.”

Bucky’s breaths were slowly steadying, his pulse decelerating.

You stayed with him, coaxing him off of the edge and whispering words of encouragement.

He was dying. This was it. Some old lady in the coffee shop he frequented saw his metal arm and screamed, calling him a monster and that was it. He left the shop, unable to breathe. He checked his body for bullets, but he couldn’t find any. Bucky was certain his lungs had been shot, though. He’d only ever woken up from nightmares with this feeling. There’s no way this wasn’t real.

Heart in his throat, Bucky pulled off to a nearby alley and nearly vomited his internal organs. The world was spinning. He didn’t know how he got to his knees with his head in his hands but he was there now, unable to fight off the evil feeling that he would never be normal, never be anything better than HYDRA’s monster.

Tears threatened to breach Bucky’s eyes as he still couldn’t take in a proper breath. He imagined drowning would be a better way to die than this.

He was so caught up in his distress, in the shadows that threatened to pull him under, that he hardly heard your voice, muffled like it was underwater.

Bucky flinched hard, surfacing, immediately reaching for the pistol in his waistband. He had a fleeting thought that put into perspective for him how sick it was that the one technological adjustment he didn’t have to make from his old life to his new life was weaponry. He knew of every one; he had _used _every one.

He took you in, eyes glossing over your overly concerned figure.

Fucking hell, of course he would lose his shit in front of the woman he had become sweet on from the morning train for two goddamn years. Bucky had no real reason to take the B train. He had initially only taken it for a week when his bike was in the shop, but that week had given him more faith in humanity than anything had in the last decade.

He had noticed you the moment you had walked into the train, eyes taking in every one on the car and greeting near everyone around him. You checked in with a teenage boy’s science project and urged him to apply to an internship where you worked–S.H.I.E.L.D.

You were warm, and bubbly, unburdened by any horrors, at least not on first look, and you cared so much for every individual you came across. Bucky hoped you didn’t notice him watching you like a creep the entire ride, jaw slack and eyes way too fond for a stranger.

Though he was headed the same way you were, he went the opposite direction at the seventh stop so it didn’t look like he was following you.

He came back day after day, your blinding smile and kind eyes starting off every one of his mornings until he began to dread the weekends when he couldn’t see you–nights plagued with nightmares and memories of a person he wanted to set himself as far apart from as possible. He didn’t realize how much he had come to depend on seeing your plushy face and hearing your silken voice until nearly two years had already passed.

You were always too bright of a star for him to accept any of your kindness, however. Sometimes he felt unworthy of even looking at you, a sun in the cold world he lived in. That’s why he always waved off any of your offerings, often without even making eye contact, trying to hold down the flush of his skin from his flustered state.

He never imagined that this is how he would finally meet you.

Oh no. _Oh no, ohnoohnoohno. _This couldn’t be happening. You had definitely seen his hand. There was no hiding it now with his gloves strewn at his feet. Bucky wondered what you thought. He figured it was something along the lines of repulsion. But no part of you looked at him in disgust, only with affection.

“Hi, honey,” you practically crooned, the pet name making him practically melt into a puddle at your feet. It wasn’t condescending at all, only genuine concern in your voice. You told him he was having a panic attack. Is that what this slow death was? You seemed to know a lot about them. He hoped it wasn’t from personal experience. Shit was miserable.

Then you asked for his hand and he practically threw himself away in the dumpster closeby. He couldn’t imagine why you would offer to touch him. Him, who was the devil in disguise.

He swallowed thickly, chewing the inside of his cheek, before he gave in. He couldn’t help it. There you were, pleading so tenderly with him to take your hand. How could he refuse? He didn’t know how he ever refused you anything, to be honest. It seemed almost blasphemous.

His lungs wouldn’t stop wailing and the world still wouldn’t stop spinning. You were the only anchor and even then he wasn’t sure of his footing.

You took his hand in both of his and described exactly how he was feeling, as if you had felt it before. And you were calling him all these sweet things like honey and love and sweetheart and he didn’t know if he could survive it, but this was in a good way, a sort of death he didn’t deserve but was desperate for.

And then you asked his name. Before he knew it, he was saying it, and you were calling it sweet and then he was near choking out a sob, suddenly wishing he knew yours. He already knew he loved it.

It felt like you knew him then, and he knew you. He wondered if you felt it, too.

There was something so intimate about the little bubble you two had created, and all at once you realized just how much you had been craving the presence of this near stranger, the chance to know him. The tension was palpable and there was no true rhyme or reason to it, but it had you on the verge of tears.

Of course, you knew far more about him now. You knew he was Steve’s best friend way before he was the Winter Soldier and way before he was this–essentially an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. You knew things about him that Steve told you, that you weren’t sure if he’d ever tell you himself. You knew he wanted to be a scientist in the 40s, but he saw Sergeant as the best way to help his country at the time. You knew how much he always cared for the little guy, a quality so deeply ingrained in yourself that you immediately adored in him. You knew of his struggles with coming to terms with his past as a HYDRA pawn, and in fact, you had helped engineer the very suit he wore on most assignments. Your fates were considerably more intertwined than you had ever realized.

Once he had fully come through the panic attack, heart in your throat, you finally admitted. “I’m a friend of Steve’s. Erm, at least, I was,” you corrected. The worst timing. You had no business dumping that on him after what just happened, but something told you you needed to blurt it out. That it would help.

At that, you heard a deep chuckle. You looked up to see Bucky full out-laughing and the sight had you biting your lip to keep away your own smile. He was so free when he was laughing, all of his teeth were out and his eyes crinkled in a way that drew at your heart-strings. So young. He laughed with his whole chest.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” you said, smiling.

Bucky shook his head, still beaming, “It’s nothing. Well, actually, it means a lot. It’s just funny. It makes perfect sense. Of course, of course, Rogers, you little bastard.”

“What makes sense?” you pushed as he stood up, pulling you up with him.

He caged you in against the wall, chewing his lip, “It just makes sense that Steve would know exactly what I like.” He was deep red at the admission, but you were still processing, your mind slightly fuzzy from your view, his arms on either side of your head and his face inches from yours. He was going to kiss you. You could almost taste his breath when his eyes widened and he flinched away, realizing.

Bucky apologized, stepping back, “I’m-I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I’m not a creep, I promise, I’ve just seen you around on the train and I’ve seen the way you talk to the kid and to Delmar and I have to admit I’ve grown a little sweet on ya, but I-I understand if–”

He didn’t get the chance to get through anymore because you had pulled him by his jacket, crashing your lips against his, hands immediately reaching for his hair.

He gasped in surprise, an mmph! making its way past his lips and into yours, but he quickly recovered, hands dropping to your waist and his lips bruising yours. The kisses were hungry, rushed, Bucky taking your lower lip between his only to bite down on the plump skin softly.

You whimpered, letting your tongues envelop each other, reaching, longing, craving something more.

Bucky pulled away, pupils blown, lips swollen red, his face utterly wrecked. You found that you wished he could always look like that, as long as it was because of you. “Wait, wait, wait. I don’t-” He smiled all crooked,, “I don’t even know your name, doll.”

You laughed, trailing your nose against his, “You can call me whatever you want if you keep kissing me like that.”

Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck, whispering against the skin there, “Oh, I plan on it.”

You didn’t know where all of this boldness came from, but you loved it on him. “It’s y/n.”

Bucky hummed, “y/n.” It rolled off of his lips as he tasted it, testing how it felt. He lifted your legs around his waist and pushed you further into the wall. “It’s perfect.”

Your hands roamed across his torso, over the layers of kevlar as he captured your lips with his again. Your breaths were visible as you panted between kisses, both of you flushed a deep red from the cold air.

He pushed against you at just the right spot, causing the perfect sort of friction and you gasped, before moaning, “_Oh! _Bucky…”

“Shit, say my name like that again, sweetheart, and I’ll take you right here.”

You felt so far from reality then. Your boss would be a little upset but what did it matter? You were on time every day of your life. You had clung to routine for so long out of a need for an anchor from all of the chaos of this world that you had forgotten what it was like to do something spontaneous, to live, to love. While you were nowhere near loving this man, you felt it somehow only a matter of time that you ended up here, with him. He was Steve’s childhood friend. He worked at S.H.I.E.L.D. He took the bloody B train. You were bound to meet him. Something told you that you were meant to act on only your heart now, your heart which Bucky had touched so deeply without you even realizing it. He saw you. He saw your kindness. While you never did any good deed for attention, being seen for it was utterly validating. In this world, constantly making the right decision took a toll, and this was a reminder that it was worth it in the end. The right people would see it. Your choices, however small, did matter. Your empathy was your most prized possession and you would be damned if you’d let go of someone who saw that so clearly from just the morning fucking train.

Cloudy and dazed, you wrapped your legs around Bucky tighter. “Fuck it, what’s stopping you?”

Bucky’s laughed nervously, “Wait, you’re serious?”

You raised a brow, “What? Can’t handle it, Sarg?”

You could tell he liked that as he bit his lip, eyes hooded. “Oh, I think I can handle you, doll.”

You leaned into his ear, whispering, “Prove it.”

He huffed, hand around your neck as he slotted his mouth over yours, once again kissing you dizzy.

Hands tight on your hips and nearly bruising you, he moved his lips to your neck first, and then your collarbone, tongue and teeth working together to work you up so much you weren’t sure he even needed to touch you for you to climax right there.

You had a moment then. Again, rethinking everything. That was kind of your secret special power, after all. You all of a sudden saw a future. There was something so intimate about every interaction with this man, and while you never judged anyone for jumping into sex with someone, you weren’t sure it was the best way for you to start something that could be important to you, not with you being a flight-risk and constantly anxious.

You slowed your breath and put your hand on his jaw, thumbing his cheekbone, something you only felt unafraid to do while his eyes were still on your neck. When his eyes met yours, you withdrew, holding your wrist in your other hand, close to your chest. He recognized the lack of surety in your gaze, softly dropping your legs to the ground as you steadied yourself with your hands on the wall behind you. He gave you a second, both of you catching your breaths before he quietly asked, “Everything okay?”

It still felt as steamy as before, your eyes kept meeting and leaving, your pants visible in the cool air, lips swollen, plump, and a luscious pink, only centimeters away from each other, but there was also a comfortable air of quiet. There were no expectations, only patience.

You picked at the fabric of your collar, looking at his face, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “I just,” you chuckled, “I just realized I kinda want to take you out first, Sarg.” You smiled a little, “Just you know, to make sure you can handle it and all that.”

Bucky laughed, eyes crinkling as he lifted your chin with his thumb, “You’re gonna make me prove it, doll?”

“If you don’t mind,” you whispered, jutting your chin out even more.

He licked his lips, a sort of excited challenge igniting in his eyes, “Nothing would make me happier.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes angst #marvel x reader #mcu!bucky barnes #idk what to hashtag anymore i just restarted afresh with a new tumblr account after a bajillion years #sidwritestuff #sidwritesforbucky #sidwritesformcu

410 notes · View notes

auras-moonstone · 1 year

Text

mad woman — ethan landry (part three)

word count: 1,414

pairing: gf!ethan landry x gf!fem!reader

based on: mad woman by taylor swift

summary: y/n and ethan have some tension between them on the night of the party

previous part ; next part

Y/N WATCHED AS TARA DRANK HER FIFTH CUP OF VODKA with fire in her eyes, imagining the way blood would soak her clothes once she was finally able to pierce her skin with a knife. She couldn’t bear to see Tara having fun, as if she hadn’t killed a part of her soul a year ago.

“Y/N/N? Please control yourself” Ethan, who was standing next to her, warned.

The girl shook her head “Sorry. I am not being subtle at all, aren’t I?” she laughed.

“Not really, but don’t worry. Everyone is way too drunk or busy dancing to notice your glares” he assured her.

“Still, I should be more careful. I just… sometimes it becomes too much, you know?”

Ethan nodded “I know, if it’s hard for me that I wasn’t even that close to him… I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. But we are almost there, hold on. It will be worth it”

“Yes, you are right” she nodded in agreement. “I’ll go get a drink”

The girl walked towards the table where the alcohol was placed and poured a cherry drink on her cup.

“Hi” said a deep voice from behind her. She turned around to find a tall muscular boy looking at her devil costume shamelessly.

“Hi. Are you done checking me out?” she asked annoyed. Frat boys weren’t her type at all.

“Sorry, you look really hot” he told her.

“Thanks” she replied dryly, ready to walk away, when he grabbed her elbow “Wait, dance with me”.

“No, thank you” she declined politely.

“Come on, don’t be boring” he insisted.

Fuck being polite, she though in that moment “I’m not boring I just think you are a douche. And I don’t dance with douches”

“Whatever, bitch” he muttered, he pushed past her so harshly that the contents of her cup ended up on her dress.

“Y/N/N! Shit, are you okay?” Anika asked worried.

“Hey, dickhead, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mindy glared daggers at the frat boy, who payed no attention as he walked away.

“Don’t worry, it’s just alcohol, I’ll live” she reassured the couple.

“You are way too nice, I would have punch him” Mindy said.

Y/N laughed “At least I smell like cherries”.

“Oh no” Anika said “Creep number two of the night”

Y/N and Mindy looked at where the girl’s eyes were set and scrunched their noses. A guy, who appeared to be way too old to be at a college party, was leading Tara somewhere. The three girls walked towards them, trying to get Tara away from him, but she was being stubborn.

“I’m gonna get Chad” Y/N whispered to Mindy, who nodded. She found said boy on a corner, talking to Ethan. “Big guy, Tara needs you. They are right there”.

“Shit, thanks Y/N/N” Chad said, before leaving her and Ethan alone.

“What’s wrong?” the boy dressed as a knight asked.

“Frankie wants to lead Tara to his room” she answered disgusted. “I hate parties” she groaned. The wet clothes were clinging to her body and her skin was starting to feel sticky.

“What happened to you?” he questioned noticing how uncomfortable she looked.

“Some frat boy who can’t take no for an answer made me spill my drink on myself”

His eyes darkened, and the girl felt her body grow warm at the action “What’s his name? I can take care of him” he offered.

Y/N laughed “That’s sweet, but don’t waste your energy”.

“Do you want me to take you home? I’m bored anyways, and I think my dad already did it. So, we should be able to leave” Ethan said.

“Yes, please. One more minute in here and I might kill someone” she said as he grabbed her hand and led her out of the house. They found the rest of the group already there, plus Sam.

“Where were you?” Chad smirked at them.

“Sam what are you doing here?” Y/N asked, ignoring Chad’s question.

“She’s stalking me” Tara spat angrily.

The sisters continued to argue as the group trailed behind them, in awkward silence. And suddenly, a girl passing by threw her drink at Sam while she screamed “Murderer!”. Y/N watched in shock as a fight unfolded in front of her.

“Quinn made that rumour viral” Ethan whispered in her ear.

“Brilliant” she muttered “I love your sister, she’s great”.

“But I’m your favourite, right?” he asked.

“Oh, they are walking away. We better catch up” she said with a playful smile.

“Mean” he laughed pinching her hip.

She pushed him away as she let out a laugh “Yes, Ethan, you are my favourite sibling” she admitted. “Now, let’s go, pretty boy”.

Y/N AND ETHAN’S EYES MET AS SAM RECEIVED THE NEWS. The fear on the sisters’ voices was practically music to their ears, and it took everything in them not to smile with satisfaction.

“I’m gonna go shower. Maybe the four of you should stay here tonight, just in case” Y/N said to Chad, Mindy, Anika and Ethan once the sisters left.

“Yeah, that’s for the better” Quinn agreed.

“Sure. Ethan and I can sleep on the couch” Chad offered.

“You two can sleep at Sam’s” Quinn told the couple, who nodded.

“Y/N/N do you have extra blankets for us?” Chad asked.

“Yeah, come with me” she said, motioning him to follow her upstairs.

“Ethan go grab them” the boy said, pushing his friend towards her. Y/N frowned at that, but decided to say nothing.

“Sorry about that. Chad is pushing me to ‘make some moves’ on girls” he explained a bit embarrassed once they reached her room.

Y/N smiled, thinking he looked really adorable when he was nervous “Make some moves, huh? Are you doing well?”

Ethan snorted “One girl looked at me in disgust at the party, so no. Although, I don’t blame her. Chad asked her if she thought I was a snack, I think her reaction was valid”

Y/N laughed “Oh my god. Isn’t he supposed to help you? There is very few things more embarrassing and uncomfortable for a girl than being asked by a guy if they think their friend is cute”.

“I know” he sighed

“Sorry about the girl, though” she said, although she didn’t really mean it. Something about the idea of him flirting with other girls made her stomach feel weird.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t interested anyway” he brushed it off. The honesty in his statement made a wave of relief rush through her body.

“Here you go, snack” she joked as she handed him the blankets. Their fingers brushed and they both felt everything stop.

“You smell like cherries” he whispered, catching her eyes. The room felt warmer, as did their bodies.

“It’s the drink I spilled on me” she whispered back.

“I didn’t get to tell you but you look gorgeous in your costume” he said eyeing her lips.

“And you look really good in that shirt” she complimented. “You uh, have great arms”.

He smiled, the compliment made him feel more confident “Can I kiss you, Y/N/N?” Ethan asked. She looked at his big doe eyes and swore she could’ve let him do anything he wanted to her. “Y/N?” he asked. Maybe he read the whole situation wrong, maybe she wasn’t attracted to him. Or maybe she did, but it was too soon for her.

But she was quick to erase all the doubts from his mind. “I think I might die if you don’t kiss me right now, Ethan” she said taking one step closer, so that their chests touched. She had to tilt her head up and he had to look down. He grabbed the back of her neck, ready to push his lips against hers when the door opened.

“Holy shit!” the voice of Quinn made them pull apart. She was smiling widely and her eyes almost bulged out of her face. “Fuck, I can’t believe I cockblocked you!”

“What? No! We- no- I-“ Y/N sudden lost her English knowledge.

“You broke her” Ethan laughed, looking at her sister. They both laugh, and Y/N elbowed him in the stomach. “I was joking! Man, you are strong”.

“Anyways, love birds. It’s done” she informed. They both understood instantly what she meant—Bailey attacked the sisters successfully. “I’ll leave now, you can pick up from where you left”.

“I’m going to take a shower” Y/N said as soon as Quinn left. The moment was ruined, anyways.

“Is that an invitation?” Ethan smirked.

“Yes, an invitation to get out of my room” she smiled.

“Got it. I was pushing my luck” he said, walking to the door.

“By the way, you owe me a kiss, pretty boy” she winked as she entered her bathroom. Ethan smiled like a lovesick puppy as he closed the bedroom door behind him, still feeling the warmth of Y/N’s body and the softness of her skin against the palm of his hand.

#ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion fluff #ethan landry x you #scream #scream iv #scream 6 #ghostface #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry fic #jack champion oneshot #auras moonstone’s work

417 notes · View notes

leupagus · 2 months

Text

Half of this fic is just me looking for more excuses to put in all the cool women that the show wrote out

Still working on the next chapter for the GOT rewrite from hell, but I had to write a little about how the fuck menstruation works in Westeros (other than "oh you can get married now!" which I refuse to believe is the norm) and also to introduce the Sphinx:

The next morning, Shireen woke up to find blood on her shift and a sharp sort of twist in her stomach, as though she'd swallowed a molten pin. The blood came out easily enough, with frantic scrubbing in the basin, but the pain grew over the course of the morning.

"It's your flowering," said Maester Alleras briskly, when she went to him in a tightly-controlled panic. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen," said Shireen, realizing the date. Her nameday had passed two weeks ago.

"And what do you know of flowering?" he asked, smiling slightly at her blush. "Forgive me, but Northerners have queer ideas of teaching their children about these matters. I do not wish to presume your level of education."

"I know it can last for a week or more," Shireen said, thinking of Mother's cycles, how she would confine herself to her rooms to endure the pain in solitude and prayer. "It's very painful and disgusting, but it allows me to bear my future husband's children and therefore is a gift from the gods."

"Hmm. Well, that is what you were taught, at least," grunted the maester. He got up from his desk, rummaging through the cupboard behind him. He was a tall, skinny young man with the deep brown skin and tightly-coiled hair of a Summer Islander, and shared their fondness for brightly-colored nails: they seemed to dance along the shelves until he plucked out a jar and presented it to her with a flourish. "This will help with the pain, and stop the bleeding after this cycle. People of the North use it a great deal."

"Is it moon tea?" Shireen asked, taking it gingerly and wondering at Maester Alleras's use of the term Northerners, which sounded different from People of the North. Perhaps in the Summer Isles, everyone on Westeros was a Northerner. "Why do they use it so much here?"

"It is," he confirmed, "and as for why..." He shrugged. "I've only just arrived in Winterfell, you understand, and as you may have guessed—" this said with another smile— "I was born elsewhere. But from what I've gathered, they must be careful when they have children. The North can only feed so many."

Shireen thought of Fire & Blood, which Father had read to her as a child. The Winter Wolves had been a company of Northerners, who had answered Lord Cregan's call to fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire with Rhaenyra Targaryen. They'd been greybeards who had knowingly marched to their deaths, for such was the custom of the North back then: at the start of each winter, the old men of each keep and castle and holdfast would choose amongst themselves who would go out into the snows. Some would return home in the spring, having endured the cold or escaped it to find their fortunes in southron lands; most would not.

"Put a thimbleful of this into whatever tea you like best," Maester Alleras continued, gesturing at the jar, his fingernails catching the light as it streamed into the rookery. "Once a day, and come back when you need more."

"Shouldn't I ask—" Shireen bit her lip.

But the maester caught her meaning; his eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you ask your parents? Yes, I suppose you should. But they should be here to be asked, and they should have told you the truth."

"What's the truth?" Shireen asked, instead of admitting that Mother and Father had never told her anything about it. She couldn't imagine either of them even mentioning the subject. All her information had come from books, or from Mother's complaints.

"The truth is that if a cycle is painful and lasts for a week or more, that is the sign of an illness, not the will of a god. The truth is that you may well find it disgusting, but it is merely something our bodies do and should never be a source of disgust or shame to you or anyone else." He glared, though it did not seem directed at her. "And as for 'bearing your future husband's children,' the truth is that they are your children, just as much as his — indeed more so, unless he carries them about for the first nine months after their birth. But you will not be a woman grown for at least another two years, and any man who wishes you to bear children until at least that time is unworthy of your hand or your love." He sat back down, his half-dozen maester's links chiming musically. "Now run along, little princess."

Lady Sansa was just outside the door, with her brother beside her. "See, I told you she smelled funny," Rickon said triumphantly.

Shireen scowled at him. "Shut up." It was kind of him, she supposed, to have worked out that something was wrong and to wait for her outside the maester's chambers. But Rickon Stark was the sort of friend who was difficult to be grateful for.

"Yes, please do, Rickon," Lady Sansa said, pressing a businesslike kiss on the crown of Rickon's head before turning him round by the shoulders and pushing him down the corridor. Rickon protested, but went all the same, and Lady Sansa turned back to Shireen. "Moon tea?" she asked, nodding at the jar.

Shireen resisted the impulse to hide it somehow. It is merely something our bodies do and should never be a source of disgust or shame. "Yes, my lady," she said.

"Come along, then," said Lady Sansa. "I have some excellent tea from the Arbor. How does that sound?"

"Could I have a hot water-skin, too?" Shireen asked, as Lady Sansa looped her arm through hers.

"Of course. And the lemon trees in the greenhouse have given up their first fruits — we'll have lemon cakes for lunch instead of venison." She smiled and Shireen thought that even if Sansa Stark never took another husband or had children of her own, she was still all the mother that the North ever would need.

#Sarella/Alleras in the house!#seriously I love this character so much #I'm writing her here as a cis woman who's pretending to be a man because she wanted to be a maester #however all headcanons are obv valid and it's not like we're ever going to get an answer from Martin about this #also is this a chance to make a joke about how sansa is also 'mother'? MAYBE #anyway #got: bitches get stuff done #game of thrones motherfuckers #also I've seen the fanon around that Stannis read to Shireen as a child and that's why she thinks of it as a love language #which: just kill me #but also Fire & Blood is 100% the shit Stannis would read to a three-year-old

37 notes · View notes

jayden-killer · 1 year

Text

DREAMS ARE MY REALITY.

what would happen if your favourite fictional character appeared in your bed..?

Part 2

A/N: finally came back! Exams period is almost done, so I can mainly focus on writing fan fics and replying to your comments. Thanks to everyone who never stopped giving me support during these months.~ For this story I was heavily inspired by the "Reality" song by Richard Sanderson. Last night I watched "La Boum" and something clicked in my mind the moment the movie titles came by. I highly recommend that movie (and its main song!).

☆

Fantastic. Another day gone bad. Not only I lost my notes taken at university with great effort (who knows where they flew thanks to the wind...), but it had rained until the end of the afternoon and a careless car passed by at great speed, soiling me with rain and migo mixed together.

«Ugh! You fucker!» My feet stomped hard on the dirt, realizing that what had just happened was just the beginning of a long evening. I'll just open the front door, walk into the kitchen, and throw my comfort on the sofa that I look forward to.

It seemed like an eternity would pass on the way back, and my body barely even managed to walk, almost like a dead weight. Don't walk on the ground. That would have been the last straw.

«Shit,» I thought aloud, the moment my eyes saw my house from afar, «Finally home». Taking the keys out of the backpack was also, a real pain in the ass: a real tangle of wires and metal had formed there since my headphones had not been folded properly. A sigh escaped from my lips the moment I walked through the front door, searching with difficulty for the light switch. I didn't waste any more time removing the ruined clothes (and placing them in a water bath) and letting a hot shower melt my nerves. It was just what I needed.

I knew I had a smile as I lathered my body thoroughly. Now the scent of lavender was something calming.

``I should make some tea too``.

«Oh, now that's what I am talking about! ». My smile didn't leave my face, as I excitedly opened the book I had left hanging a few days ago, due to my exam period. Being under stress didn't help me find the concertation and desire to identify myself with the main character of the book. ``That's enough``. This thought flooded my mind. ``Now you can rest, because you deserve it, so enjoy your reading``.

``Thanks, other me, maybe you're right`` I replied to the little inner voice that I assumed had a satisfied grin on her face.

Yet my eyes fell on the mega poster that took up most of my bedroom wall: Miguel O'Hara. This man was going to be the death of me one of these days. I remembered the day when my heart wanted him only for me: in the new Spiderman, starring Miles Morales, many would have said that he was the perfect villain, even if I kept countering, claiming the opposite. Of course, his anger issues didn't help get people on his side. He was perfect in every aspect: tall, muscular, intelligent, thoughtful. My god, where do I have to sign to have him next to me?

«Too good to be true». I sighed aloud again as I pulled my attention away from the poster and back into my book. I think it wasn't long after I started reading and my eyes started to get heavy. I might have let go of the book, and fallen asleep with it on my chest. It had been a bad day in every way. Perhaps that is the reason I imagined hugging Miguel more than once. Maybe that's why I also felt my mattress getting heavier under my back.

I was awakened by the sun's rays penetrating through the curtains of my room. I loudly grunted at the thought of getting up early to do my daily cleaning chores around the house. But what harm would it have been to stay in my warm bed for at least an hour longer? Turning over, I had the feeling that my bed had gotten much heavier. Or was I still dreaming of hugging Miguel?

Slowly my eyes opened and focused on an unfamiliar figure lying next to me. I had a moment of confusion. Why...was there a person in my bed?

Only when I fully focused on who was in front of me I almost fainted on the spot.

"AAAAHH!" I grabbed the first pillow nearby, slapping the stranger hard several times, and leapt out of bed, the pillow still in my hands. The man, taken aback, tripped on the ground, and a great thud resounded in the bedroom. I hugged the pillow tightly to my chest. Oh, holy god. What was happening at that moment? I was so confused I could have sworn my face was as just as confused.

The man grunted aloud and scrambled to his feet, throwing his hands in surrender.

«What the fuck did I do?!» he yelled, in sheer confusion too. Maybe at that moment, I could have passed out, I swear to whoever you want! Because whoever I had in front of me was a real dream.

«Holy shit...»

«What?!»

I swallowed hard. «You are Miguel O'Hara. Miguel O'Hara was in my room, in my bed!»

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #marvel imagine #miguel ohara #miguel x y/n #miguel o hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #marvel x reader #marvel #spiderman 2099 #spiderverse #spiderman across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman across the verse #imagine #fan fiction

221 notes · View notes

wifetomegatron · 1 year

Text

prowl, cerebros, red alert & fort max drabble (brain fart basically). prowl looks too good for a funeral, first contact au. (the fleabag brainrot continues to fester so) imagine a scene where you have to attend a funeral of a distant relative member, most likely a cousin twice removed, and the family asks you to bring your boyfriend with you. The problem wasn't the fact that he turns into a cop car or stands five—six, he would lie — meters tall when he's not begrudgingly sizing himself down for the comfort of his human hosts, but it was the fact that he's an asshole. And this is relevant because he just can't seem to look awful enough to mourn. Instead, he looks —

" — amazing. What the fuck? "

You threw your hands up, and he had to grit his teeth and swallow a response, opting to huff in equal frustration. His doorwings flapped as he paced away from the full-length mirror.

"I'm not doing this on purpose."

" Bullshit. I told you not to go for a finish yesterday why did you —"

" I didn't go! " He growled. Ex-venting before correcting his tone, still sounding upset, " I didn't even clean myself before I got here, which is disgusting because I feel filthy."

You shook your head. Defeated.

" The funeral's in fifteen minutes and you look like you've gotten your armor polished."

" What does it matter?" He complained, eyes briefly catching himself against the mirror.

" It matters because my cousin's dead and everyone's going to think I made you go through a car wash for it !"

" That's not a funny joke."

There was a knock at the door. Past through the gap, you can hear the distant hum of the organ, the sea of people dressed in black drowning in hushed murmurs. It was Cerebros. He had half his body past the doorway, peeking in.

" People are looking for — Primus, Prowl, did you get a new paint job?"

You and Prowl cursed, arms up in defeat once again. Cerebros closed the door behind him as Prowl went on his rant, hands itching to flip a table. But fortunately, you were in one of the empty closets of the church. A portrait of Christ by the window, looking down at you all in disappointment.

Prowl begins to pick on his doors, trying to wipe away some invisible dirt off his arms. The effort was enough to trick you into thinking that he actually cares about this stupid situation, or maybe his ego is just basking in the moment of looking too good for a funeral.

" No matter what I do, my doorwings keep falling in this really... candid way! "

Bastard.

" You look perfect, Cerebros," Prowl huffed. The black and white bot looked at himself and frowned, " Thanks."

There was another knock, and you were partially relieved it was Fortress Maximus and Red Alert instead of one of your relatives. The one-point-one percenter glared at Prowl, which wouldn't be abnormal, except he regarded him quietly before adding to the fire.

" This is not good."

" See!" You yelled, tilting your head up and contemplating if you should just sink on your knees and pray that a comet would strike your boyfriend where he stands so he'll at least look beaten enough to pay his respect over the open casket. Otherwise, he looks like he's ready to receive an award from Optimus instead, shining under the sunlight, worthy of applause from all of Cybertron.

" I think you should just wipe the polish off your face," Red Alert suggested.

Prowl froze, turning to the three of you.

" I'm not wearing any polish."

" What?"

154 notes · View notes

plscallmeeren · 7 months

Text

O H , H A R R Y

Hermione Jean Granger x Luna Lovegood x Reader

Request: yes

Summary: you have been friends with the trio since first year and you've always been enthralled by Hermione and Luna, but only now in sixth year (for legal reasons everyone's an adult) are confessions made...... btw it's potions class and Harry has a crush on you (potions facts r all correct)

Warnings: Swearing; nipple play; magic strap-on/fake p; fisting; finger f; face f; power dynamics; bondage; top!reader; biting; anatomy ig; dirty talk of all kinds; threesome; anal; semi-public sex; porn with hardly any plot; out of character Hermione; damn idk stuff

Word Count: 3.6K+

You stared miserably at your cauldron in lieu of Snape's arrival. Luna sat next to you, doodling something in a notebook, completely unaware of your thoughts entangling with her.

In front of you, Harry and Ron were placed side by side, whispering about something. Hermione sat a way off, poring over her potions book as if she needed preparation for the lesson. Your heart nestled into your stomach mockingly as Ron looked her way adoringly.

What were you thinking? How could you be into two girls? Wasn't one bad enough? And what on Earth possessed you to think you had a chance?

But you had to tell them. At some point. For your own sake. So that you could move on. At least Luna, because Hermione would be harder to escape if things went south, considering you were in the same group of friends.

Your gaze wandered helplessly toward the Ravenclaw girl, searching her profile for something that might comfort you. Whatever that meant, you found it, because the sheer sight of her brought some joy to you - every single time.

Eventually Snape strode in, dramatic as always, impatiently beginning his lesson void of introduction, as if he weren't the one who had come too late.

"Valerian - recognising it. How tall-"

"One to two meters, sir," Hermione cut in enthusiastically, recoiling at the look he sent her in return.

"And are the blossoms or the leaves edible?" he continued, ignoring her. Apparently his gaze lingered on Luna for too long, however, because she answered easily: "Both. The leaves are harvested between May and June, the blossoms between June and July."

"That's not what I asked," he snarled, "and I don't recall calling on you, could that be, Miss Lovegood?" She held his stare better than anyone.

"Right. (Y/l/n), is the root dried before the common tincture is derived from its essence?" Snape sounded smug. Usually that was bad.

"No, it's not. And the tincture is said to be repellent of cruel spirits and similar." For a second you felt smug yourself. Then you remembered it was still bad.

"Also not my question. Now; who can tell me what real potion Valerian roots are essentially to-"

Hermione's hand was raised. Snape stared at her, looking almost surprised that she should suddenly be present and also have the nerve to remind him of this. She withered under his scrutiny, finally choosing to answer as he wasn't moving: "Draught of the living death, sir. I think, sir."

"I don't think I like your attitude, Miss Granger. Or yours, for that matter," he added meaningfully, glaring at you and Luna in turn. "Detention. All three of you. You'll be cleaning up the doubtless mess that will arise this lesson due to the jumping beans. No leaving after class."

You wished you could protest with the fact that you had a lesson the next period, but you didn't have one, just this once, and by the looks of it, neither did your friends. Harry and Ron looked at you pitifully.

This is the time. This is the day, a surprisingly loud voice inside you said. You gulped. Maybe it was.

The lesson dragged as fitful bursts of imagination illustrated to you exactly which ways you could be explicitly shunned and exiled, while others portrayed perfect scenarios of reciprocation that partly led to some crazy classroom threesome. You felt almost guilty for thinking about them that way, but you were the last one encouraging these thoughts after all.

Finally, not that you had noticed, the two hours of anticipation faded away with the distant coaster of students packing their things. Snape loomed over Hermione, supposedly giving instructions. She winced at something he said and you were overcome with a strange sort of second-hand rage. Not the kind that made you move out your blood boil, but the kind that twisted some vital organ you couldn't place, deep down inside your gut.

He left, cape swooshing, and there you were.

You. Hermione. Luna.

You all looked at each other for a moment before Hermione began relaying Snape's tricks for catching the beans. They sounded awfully implausible. You all suspected they were only supposed to mistake it harder, but quiet prevailed as you got to work.

It was awkward silence. And you had no idea why.

This was not as usual. The three of you were quite close, or at least you were with both of them, and there was never any tension unless Luna brought up an unusual creature and stubbornly disallowed anyone from changing the subject.

Eventually you couldn't stand it any longer. "I have something to tell you. Both of you. To get off my chest."

They looked at you expectantly, abandoning the hopeless search for bouncing legumes.

"What is it?" Hermione, oh clever Hermione, with wit and smarts and pride.

"Yes?" Luna, lovely Luna, with daydreams and understanding and interest.

"I don't expect you to react to this," you continued uneasily, watching them exchange an unreadable look. "I really don't. I don't want it to change. Us. Anything. But it's not getting better, so this is the only way I can think of."

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes for a second to regain your composure. "I like you. Both of you. And I know that's weird. I know we're friends and I shouldn't but I really do. It's only become more with time, so... I don't know what else to do but tell you and..."

Hermione beamed. Luna laughed. Your brow furrowed.

"Oh, but that's wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, flinging herself at you so that you had to half catch her, not letting you finish.

"Wait- What do you mean, that's wonderful?" You asked, confused.

Luna smiled. "(Y/n), you can't imagine how wonderful this is," she started, approaching the part of the room where Hermione leaned against your frame. "Recently I admitted to Hermione that I felt for you also, and at first she was disturbed, because she had the same feelings, but then we realized that if you hypothetically felt back, there was no reason we couldn't share you. Or, more likely, that whoever you liked should have total allowance to act on their wishes."

You stared at her. This was a dream, right? Sure, Luna could be direct, but still...

You pinched your arm, simultaneously ecstatic and disturbed when it hurt. You looked at them both in turn again, Hermione pulling away a little from her impractical position. "So... the three of us? Together?"

"Yes."

"If you can handle both."

"Right." You clicked your tongue, eyes involuntarily roaming Hermione's body as she stood so close to you. "I don't know what to say now."

"What were you going to say?" Luna asked slyly, siding up to you as well.

"Well... I'm always thinking of you. In the library, when we study together," you lock eyes with Hermione, "and when we hang out. You're just never absent from my mind."

Hermione giggled, and your brows rose when you realized what she was thinking. Luna smiled coyly also, making you smirk. "Not really what I meant, but sure."

"Don't you think we should celebrate? Instead of moderately awkward sexual tension, I mean," Luna asked, keeping an entirely straight face.

"Oh, yes," Hermione agreed, grinning, lighting up as if she had just arrived at a spectacular idea. "I think I'll just pick up that bean."

She paced about two steps before leaning over slowly in a way that would never be suitable for catching something, showing off the perfect silhouette of her ass and legs. "Oops," she murmured when it jumped away.

You bit your lip, turning to Luna instead. Your hand found the nape of her neck where your fingers could reach the roots of her hair, your other securing her waist as you leaned in, kissing her slowly.

It was better than you had imagined it. More natural, more believable. It felt like melting into her. Your heart sunk between your legs.

Hermione, looking almost jealous, swung her hips as she walked, wrapping an arm around your waist and the other through your hair as if to drag you away.

You pulled back, eyeing her playfully before moving the hand that had resided on Luna's hip to the other girl's side, slowly finding your way to cup her ass. She gasped.

You couldn't believe this was happening. Each arm around a beautiful girl.

"You can do her first," the Ravenclaw whispered. "I don't mind watching."

"I wouldn't want to keep you out of the fun," you smiled wickedly. "Why don't you sit on that desk there, love?"

She obeyed easily, leaving a panting Hermione before you to focus on. "Sweet girl... why don't you cast a silencing and locking charm, will you?"

She nodded frantically, quickly pulling out her wand to do just that. Before she could, however, your mouth was on her neck, inducing a moan - more surprised than anything.

"S-Silencio," she stuttered, chest rising and falling fast as you slid the robe off her shoulders onto the floor.

You kissed her on the mouth then, her wand arm faltering as you muffled her groans, pulling off her jumper and top in one. Her wand clattered on the ground.

Next came her skirt and tights, ripped off her without a second thought, leaving her in black lacy underwear. You grinned. "Luna, honey, I'll need you to undress, too."

She nodded from the desk, immediately setting to work. You looked back at Hermione as she stared up at you, practically awaiting judgement. "Pretty girl," you cooed, "if only I had known you'd been hiding this under all those clothes." She blushed. Blue and purple spots were already taking form on her neck.

You cupped her breasts carefully, massaging them with the palms of your hands until you could see her hardened nipples through the fabric. You unclasped the lingerie, diving down to her cleavage, sucking and biting and eliciting guttural moans and whimpers from her. A distant whining came from the direction of the desk also.

"P-Please, mommy, I want more-"

"Mommy, huh? Interesting," you interrupted her. "And what exactly would that entail?"

She only whined, resulting in a shrewd pinch of her left nipple. "I- I, uh... down there..."

"Use your big girl words, darling."

"I- I want you to f-fuck me."

"That's more like it," you purred. "But you'll have to wait a moment."

Turning to Luna, you raised your wand, catching her off guard as charmed ropes snaked around her wrists and ankles, finally grasping the table legs with considerable force. She panted in anticipation.

"Bet you're wondering where I learned that trick," you cooed, but didn't elaborate as you led Hermione with a hand on the small of her back towards Luna, gently applying pressure to her shoulders until she caught on, sliding to her knees before her friend's bare cunt with wide eyes.

"I'm gonna need you to eat her out, kitten. Can you do that for mommy?" You tilted your head mockingly.

"I, I've never done that before," she stuttered, "but I'll try..." Her mouth collided with Luna's pussy, ass naturally drifting upwards as she elicited soft moans from the blonde, who writhed against her magical bindings with a flawlessly arched spine.

You rounded on Luna, licking your lips at the sight of her plush breasts and perked nipples. You touched her right with the tip of your wand experimentally, relishing her passionate gasps as its cold effect startled her. You continued for about a minute, maybe more, playing with irregular hot and cold touches all over her cleavage.

She was moaning and whining more and more, hips bucking up into Hermione's face more often than not.

You returned to Hermione, standing behind her calmly before running a finger up one thigh, then the other. She groaned into Luna, causing a chain reaction. The same finger roamed around her pussy, poking at her lips once or twice before venturing up to her ass, circling her other hole. She whined as you pushed into her carefully, curling and uncurling a few times before retracting again, leaving her pussy heaving, longing. "Such a good girl."

"Please," she whimpered, muffled by the Ravenclaw's folds. You wanted to tease her, but couldn't find it in you to delay.

"You're so wet for me, it's adorable." Two of your fingers rubbed sidelong up her cunt, slowly edging deeper and deeper until you were inside her, searching for her g-spot, finding it, pounding against it so that she had to come away from Luna to breathe, whine, moan. The sinful sounds were so high they sounded fake, but the movements of her needy hips proved otherwise.

"Quiet, now, kitten," you mocked, only thrusting into her harder as Luna groaned from afar. "Or do you need more?"

She nodded quickly, but you weren't going to let her get away so easily.

"I need to hear you say it. C'mon, use that pretty voice of yours."

"I need more," she whimpered, hardly able to catch a breath long enough to speak. You grinned, groaning a guttural 'good girl' that sent Hermione over the edge. Her juices flowed freely over your fingers, but you didn't stop, merely slowing down a second before adding another finger, then another, so that the majority of your hand thrust in and out of her with every frantic intake of breath.

"You ready?" you purred, smiling as she nodded. The remaining thumb glided into her, your entire fist now hitting all the right places in her cunt.

"Oh, Merlyn, please-"

She slumped forwards into Luna's pussy, sending vibrations through the blonde girl. With one guttural moan, clenching around nothing, she came again, writhing in her bindings as Hermione's face remained attached to her slick, almost sliding away at any given time, swaying back and forth with every push of your joined digits.

You could feel her gripping your hand harder and harder, threatening to spill, to arrive-

You drew your fist out, eliciting a pathetic whine from the Gryffindor. "Good girl," you said softly, presenting your hand to her face, which she eagerly licked clean of her own juices. "I'm gonna need you to..." You leaned in close, whispering in her ear so that Luna could only strain to hear you. Hermione nodded eagerly, still breathing hard.

You held up your wand, closing your eyes in concentration to remember some of the charms your cousin (oh, the irony) had showed you a while ago. Finally, pointing down, you muttered the words, watching as an unfamiliar bulge formed in your pants. You pulled the trousers down, letting it spring up, ignoring the girls as you set to work again, finally managing to have the wand vibrate heavily in your hand.

When you turned back around, Hermione was obeying your first ask, tickling Luna all over her body as her already aroused cunt pulsated and clenched, her nipples going stiff. She jerked and spasmed on the very desk she had just before contemplated potions class.

You handed the brunette your buzzing wand, letting her place it on the Ravenclaw's clit. She shuddered, struggling to hold still. Your fingers ran over her middle, tracing the outline of her beautiful face and the roots of her silver hair. Thumbs gliding to the corners of her mouth where her head hung over the edge, gently prompting her to open up, meaningfully catching her eye. An endless string of whines and moans poured from her now that her lips were parted.

Slowly, she took your fake dick, gagging on it in a way that brought immense pleasure to you through this unreal sequence of nerves. Luna started sliding up and down it with those voluptuous lips, and before you knew it, it was you who was pushing down her throat again and again, the blonde giddy with stimulation and slight lack of air.

"You can come now, honey. Come from mommy fucking your face like the sweet girl you are," you said sweetly, and then she was gasping, her face better than any pornographic scenery, and then Hermione was whimpering at the sheer jealousy of another's orgasm, and you were so impossibly turned on that you couldn't stop yourself. Your own orgasm exploded in Luna's mouth, some leaking out onto her face as you pulled away, sorry you hadn't asked, but she looked so ecstatic you could have come again.

The angelic image; Luna, wise Luna, white flecks dripping down her cleavage and face, swallowing the same as she licked her perfect lips. Hair a mess, spread-eagle on the table where she would have to sit and learn the next day, mildly cross-eyed, pussy and breasts on full, parted display, a blunt portrait of pleasure.

You took the wand from Hermione, Luna sagging at the loss of stimulation. A simple flick and those gentle but stubborn ropes snaked back into the air, vanishing as their deed was done. "Why don't you get dressed, love? We'll go to my dorm and get comfortable," you suggested, but your grin was too curious to be innocent.

She reached for her wand on the neighboring desk among her discarded clothes, but you interrupted her actions. "Don't clean up here. Put your clothes on over it all." She glanced down at her dripping wet thighs, soaked pussy, thought of the cum on her face and cleavage - then smiled just as wickedly.

Your lips crashed against hers before she could proceed, however, removing her more obvious decor as they travelled to her chin, her cheeks, cleaning her up in a way so inherently harmless she laughed. You had always loved her laugh. "Go ahead."

You held out a hand to Hermione, who was resting on the stone floor, helping her up and sitting down on the next table before Luna. She intuitively sat down on your lap, groaning as she slipped onto your cock. She sat there, 'adjusting', as you both watched Luna get dressed.

"See her legs? All wet under her stockings, even as she'll walk through the castle. Think how many other people will see her like that, unaware of all the dirty things my girls have been up to," you murmur in her ear, earning a groan of frustration. She lifted herself up as if to fuck herself on your lap, but you pushed her back down again. "Don't tell me you still haven't had enough of being fucked, sweet girl? You still want more?"

She whimpered, bucking her hips against you as you rested your head on her shoulder carefully, kissing the side of her neck. Luna pulled up her skirt, awkwardly setting bra over wet skin.

"What would other students say, knowing you're so needy? That you and Luna both have drenched cunts and wanna be fucked? Have been fucked?"

Apparently movement wasn't necessary, because that was the moment Hermione squirted for the first time in her life.

"Good girl," you whispered one more time, one last shudder of approval, before lifting her off of you and charming away your helpful illusion.

She started getting dressed over her post-sex anatomy, managing to clasp on a bra and stockings. You were just buttoning up your trousers when the door creaked open. Hermione yelped, scurrying behind you automatically, Luna standing sagely, now fully dressed.

Harry and Ron stood paralyzed by the wooden door, staring. The former looked livid.

"How dare you? I thought you were my friends!" he yelled, glaring at Hermione and Luna in turn, noting the slick around the Gryffindor's face as well. "(Y/n) was mine! You knew I liked her, didn't you? How could you take her from me?"

"Oh, Harry," you sighed, effectively inaudible over his ongoing accusations and claims.

"Please, Harry," you said louder, making him stop, "I didn't realize. I'm sorry for hurting you. But I was never yours, or only as a friend. I'm sorry. But I can be with who I want, and that's nothing to take up with Hermione or Luna, either."

He was practically quivering with... what? Rage? Sadness? Frustration? Envy?

"Well, I think it's great, y'know," Ron intervened awkwardly. "The whole... being-with-you-want-thing. Real good. You should all be happy, is what I'm saying, I suppose. Although I do find that hard to say in the dungeons, but y'know. 'Is what it is."

He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, turning him around slowly. "C'mon, mate. Uh, he's sorry and all, I think is fair to say. Just outta sorts, is all."

Harry seemed unable to withstand his friend's kind tug, dragging his feet over the dark stone in the opposite direction.

Hermione emerged from behind you, hand clapped over her mouth. "I can't believe I forgot to do a locking spell."

"Maybe you've forgotten, but that wasn't entirely your fault."

"Anyway," Luna interrupted as the Gryffindor appeared to be searching her memory, "let's hope nothing will go out of its way to stand between us anymore. Not even our friends."

"We won't let them either way," Hermione added, smiling brightly.

"Good to know." You grinned. This detention was certainly worth it.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #smut #x reader #threes0me #wlw #wlw ns/fw #hermione x reader #hermione fanfiction #hermione granger #Hermione smut #luna lovegood #luna x reader #Luna x Hermione #bd/sm kink #top reader

60 notes · View notes