#i feel as though everyone would love that

[belovedcloud]

One Bed

pairing: leon kennedy x fem! agent! reader

✎ synopsis: who knew saving the president's daughter was so tiring? only you and leon knew the treacherous steps towards the hotel room that was supposed to rejuvenate you both. only for him to open the door and to see one bed.

✎ notes: omg hey everyone. it has been months since my last post and thank you so much for the love on 'such a sweetheart'. i needed a hiatus from writing and i hope you guys love this one bed trope! it's not proofread so sorry if there are mistakes but i am way too lazy to read over it all. love you guys.

➤ WC: 5K

➤ CW: you helped leon save ashley, one bed trope duh, touch starved leon, kisses, petnames, cowgirl, tired sex, p in v, unprotected sex, leon cums on you.

Who knew saving the president's daughter would be so exhausting? The whole ordeal was strenuous to your muscles and mental state. A good nights rest was what you needed after the catastrophe you just encountered. Luckily, you were able to squeeze a shower before getting to the hotel. The idea of mud, bodily fluids and blood was too much to handle for any longer than necessary. Though, if it wasn't for Leon - you probably wouldn't be around currently. Being mission partners with him allowed you to understand his perspective on bioweapons and whatnot.

Without a doubt, he hated them. Despised even. This was a common viewpoint, but his hate went far beyond the normal eye.

It was best not to pry. You couldn't class yourselves as friends, just work partners. Agents who fought the living dead and anything else that came in your way. The undead was a sensitive topic to Leon. What could he have went through?

Leon's life was one of pure terror ever since he was victimised to Raccoon City. The first day on the job completely different to others who joined for the first time. Unlocking padlocks were for survival, not for fun. Reading notes left from other officers who already found their fate was disturbing. The scribbles on the paper led him out. To safety he had hoped. No. Safety was not an option that day - his welfare was tarnished every second.

Now being forced into the workforce of the government wasn't any better. Probably even worse. Time and time again Leon would feel the cold metal pressed against his temple, shakily holding the gun to his head. The index finger aching to snap the trigger to blast his brains out. Yet the same reasoning withheld him from doing so. What if another incident like Raccoon City happened in the near future? He was hired to help others - to dispose of the horrors of the world without alarming the population.

Having you as his partner was a struggle and a blessing.

His communicative state from when he was 21 was now gone. A rookie turned agent against his will led him to be colder than others. Leon kept to himself most of the time, here and there giving you a few pointers on how you can effective pop a flash grenade or what to do in a sticky situation. You reflected how he was 6 years ago. A 21 year old who was excited to start at a police department - you were an agent who was motivated to save others. Your actions held such kindness to him. No prying or none of those snickering comments he would get from the other agents at base.

Just peace.

So mentally speaking, he didn't mind having to share a room with you in this crammed hotel. It was a Saturday so it was expected. Though, other patrons would be coming here to have a one night stand or a relaxing time away from their family... you both just needed rest.

Sluggish movements paved their way to the door number, 012. You and him clinging onto your duffel bags silently. It was an awkward silence, a silence that hung below you both as he fumbled with the key card in his hand. Scanning it through to unlock the barrier between you both and the comfort of the beds that laid inside.

Beds. Or... bed?

Your eyes scan the room. Continuously trying to seek out the other bed that should be here. You examine the footing of it, seeing that it's a double bed instead of 2 singles. Great. The dumbfounded look on your face is almost laughable as the situation dawns on you. You were in a room with Leon and it only consisted of one bed for the both of you.

There were a few ways to go about this. You either both sleep in the same bed together or one takes the bed and the other finds another place to rest. Looking around, it appears that the only viable option would be the cracked leather arm chair, resting solo in the corner. Thinking about it, you were willing to give yourself a crick in your neck to save yourself from the embarrassment of sharing the bed with the other agent.

Leon thought otherwise. The brisk movement of the gear belt slung over the armchair with his duffel bag smacked down in the centre. He was tired, over the bullshit that he just fought - he couldn't care less if he had to share a bed.

"Looks like they forgot a bed huh?" He joked sarcastically, stretching his limbs. The strain of his muscles was visible, undoubtably attractive. Leon carried himself enchantingly, you wanted to learn more about him as every second passed. A sigh leaves his throat whilst he sat down on the bed, continuously stretching. The shirt riding up slightly, giving you a chance to avert your eyes to the uncovered skin. His v-line was on show, the dip down soon stopped by the fabric of his cargos. The shirt he was wearing was a tight fit, letting the muscles of his biceps become visible to the naked eye and the shape of his pecs becoming more noticeable the more you looked.

At least you had a bed in the room? That was the only positive you could find from this when removing your gear off your body. Slinging it into the corner of the room alongside your bag. You both are exhausted from the long day, so you were thankful there's at least a bed to share.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick..." His movements are swift, already gripping onto his shirt he reveals his back to you - throwing the shirt on the floor beforehand. Multiple scars are littered faintly around the skin but the more distinguishable thing is his muscles. Leon's toned body calls out to you as his shoulder to waist ratio is insane. A slim waist, broad shoulders, it all speaks to you. You can feel your body speaking back as you look at him a little longer than expected.

Your little fangirling sesh is over when he shuts the bathroom door behind him - you let a breath you didn't know you withheld. Well, all you could do was wait for him to finish his shower before you could have one. The pitter patter of the water hitting the shower floor is heard before it dies down - giving you a mental note that Leon was now cleaning himself. Why are you even thinking about this?

Leon lets out a sigh once the hot water hits his body. An instant relieving feeling flowing through him as he just stands there for a minute. Soaking in the greatness of water before grabbing the washcloth and shower gel nicely provided by the hotel staff. Squeezing the bottle, a dollop of soap smothers the cloth before he runs it across his body.

Humming can be heard whilst he cleanses his body, ensuring to dispose of all the sweat and dirt from their recent mission. Reflecting back on the situation, he started to feel a bit nervous having to share a bed with you tonight. You were pretty, very pretty to him. He mentally scolded himself whilst he ran the cloth down his chest - his mind returning back to you. A soft moan elicited out of his lips made his hand smack his face. Leon wasn't sure why he was feeling this way. Instinctive movements of him washing himself in motion, his fingers manoeuvring the washcloth on autopilot as his mind focused on you. He can't help but think about you some more, remembering your cute smile when you would hand him a cup of coffee at base. Or your simple gestures of making sure he was comfortable and how you reserved yourself around him made his heart skip a beat.

It had been a while since he thought about someone romantically, his job stripping him of any personal life as the thought of the multitude of viruses around the world was increasing each day. But now, deep down... he could feel an attraction to you. Leon wasn't sure if it was sexual or genuine love - it would be too soon to tell. However, this feeling was deep rooted within, his mind wanted to show you love. His heart longing for someone.

A sentiment he had not felt in a while.

Trying to calm his heart down from going into cardiac arrest, giving himself a mental pep talk - trying not to think about you too much. He shuts off the water soon after and grabs the white towel neatly folded on top of the counter cabinet. Rubbing himself dry and wrapping it around his waist - tightening it slightly. He doesn't want an accident to happen.

Your mind shuts off as you hear footsteps in the bathroom. He was out. Okay. Do you look away when he opens the door? Leon doesn't give you time to think as the door creaks open, revealing himself into the main room. His bare chest and hair still damp for show. Jesus Christ. His damped skin looks good in the dim light, as if he had displayed himself just for you. He notices you sitting tensely on the bed, his body approached you. Blue eyes instantly drifting to your body and lingering for a second before he snaps out of it.

"I needed that..." He groans out, sitting beside you. You mentally slap yourself as you snap your thoughts back to the present.

"Yeah I bet, I already had a shower before we got here so I'm alright." Your response is meek, but at least you had something to respond with.

The man next to you raises his eyebrows at you in slight surprise, he wasn't expecting you to have already taken a shower - but by the look of it, you did look super clean compared to him before. Perhaps you had it when he was getting questioned at base for the report of the mission. Leon tries to keep his eyes focused on your face and not your body. "Oh lucky you," he replied with a smirk.

"I couldn't stand all the random liquids on me, it was disgusting." A chuckle leaves you when you remember looking at yourself in the mirror. Gross... but at least you could laugh at yourself for getting in such a mess? "You were subjected to most of the mess to be honest." Leon chortled out, reminiscing on your reaction when you had novistador blood all over you.

Your conversation with him was cut short when you both recalled the situation laid opened to the two of you. One bed, two agents. It seemed childish that you couldn't think the both of you could share a bed - it was just awkward. Really awkward.

"I can take the floor if you want?" The sound of your voice cuts through the silence, Leon replayed the question in his head before shaking his head. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not letting you sleep on this cold ass floor." His eyes averted to the hardwood floor, indicating that your question was out of order.

"You want to share the bed then?" This question to Leon was better, he really didn't mind another person next to him whilst he slept. Recalling past moments, he's slept through worse. "We're both adults here. We can share the bed, it won't be bad." A calm response from the agent. What more could you expect?

Your reluctant nod allows him to get back up to look through the wardrobe in the hotel room. A couple extra blankets stored alongside some pyjamas that the workforce provided for both of you. You two were granted a pair of sweatpants and black top - your eyes brightened up, realising you weren't having to sleep in fresh gear wear.

"I'll go in the bathroom to change, you can change here." An authoritative tone left him, not giving you a chance to speak back before he returned back into the bathroom. Scurrying over to the open wardrobe, you hand picked your pyjamas - undressing yourself from the imprisonment of your current clothes to something a lot more baggy and comfortable. A sigh let loose from you, your body mindlessly walking over to the bed and plopping down on the edge. The mattress aiding in soothing your back from the hellish ride you attuned escaping the island.

A yawn seeped through your lips, hazily looking at your phone screen at the time, 01:24... It really was time to rest. Though, the thought of Leon couldn't leave your mind. He plagued your brain - a part of you didn't complain.

A sound of a door creaking open embarked into your ears, Leon had changed into his nightclothes. The tank top fit snugly on his body however, the pair of sweatpants seemed a little baggy. Clearly a little too big for him since they were hanging dangerously low on his hips. He was plain exhausted. His limbs gradually moved him to the bed that you two were about to share. Sinking his body into the mattress as the sheets hugged his frame.

Minutes passed, a silence rose in the room. Leon's back laid restfully whilst scrolling through countless media apps to pass the time. His mind wandering back to you. The heat emanating his body contradicted with the cold expression on his face. Why was he so hard to read? You couldn't tell if he was even comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with you. Your body laid on it's side, staring at him brazenly. Forgetting that your eyes were peering at his body, Leon's gaze averted to you - an eyebrow raised on his face.

"You alright?" His question caught you off guard; no you weren't okay. Not when he was so close to you, the faint smell of him seeping into your senses. You genuinely couldn't be okay in this situation.

"Mhm, m'alright. Just tired." Leon's eyes glanced at you and his eyes shamelessly roamed over your body before he forced himself to look back down at the device in his hand. 'What the hell are you doing?' The question rung in his mind over and over again as he thought about you. There was no denying the fact that he found you incredibly attractive - but for you to be his work partner... It was unprofessional for such thoughts to occur in his mind. Shakily putting down the phone in his grasp he spoke. "You should get some rest, it's getting late."

Like rest was an option. Turning your head towards him, a twinge of irritation was mixed in with your voice. "I know, it's just.. it's hard to sleep right now." The idea of you and him so close was making your head foggy, especially now since he rolled onto his side - discarding his phone on the bedside table. He now faced you, noticing the tone of your voice. Was there something bothering you?

"Why's it hard?" It was starting to click in Leon's head that them sharing a bed may have made you nervous. Scared perhaps. Analysing your expression, he was observant in your body language. A hint of worry trespassed his vision whilst he watched you silently - waiting for you to continue. His head in his hand, inaudibly taking notice of how pretty you look. Completely captivated from your features, he shook his head to clear his mind.

"We're sharing a bed, now I know there's nothing between us but it's just... weird? No offence! Like you're not weird you know that I just-" Realising you were rambling, a heavy sigh left your lips. It was hard trying to compose yourself, particularly because Leon was looking at you. He didn't look confused nor grossed out.. just enamoured. Lovesick eyes boring into yours when he heard you ramble for a moment.

A slight chuckle was brought out from him when you mentioned the closeness between the two of you, a small idea crossed his mind about how your body was mere inches away from his. He swallowed before speaking. "None taken, I get it. Sharing a bed can be kinda intimate huh?" He found it rather cute that you were so antsy. "But I'm glad we have a bed..."

Leon was right, you convinced yourself nothing was weird - staring at the cream coloured ceiling. A light huff was let out of Leon's nose. "Just try and relax," he mumbled, unsure on how to comfort you. Watching you snuggle under the covers, a slight smile spread across his face.

"Cute."

Leon surprised himself that he mumbled it out loud, his body tensing from the fear that reigned his body. Mentally face palming himself, rapidly looking away from you. Reprimanding himself for being so stupid to let it slip out.

After a moment, a lower voice was heard from him. "I mean- Ugh, sorry I didn't mean to make this so awkward." Shifting himself further from you, feeling ashamed of himself - you stop him from almost falling off the bed. "No no, it's fine!" Your efforts of comforting him didn't help him as it was clear he was still embarrassed. Leon's mind kept recalling the scene, shouldered with how attractive you were.

"I meant it." He stated. Leon had no clue where this confidence in him was coming from, but he hoped it wouldn't run out any time soon. The look on your face made him feel less nervous. A shocked expression plastered all over you - stuttering not knowing what to say. He found you to be the prettiest woman he had ever seen, the kindest too. Looking back at it all, he registered all along he had a little thing for you. You respected him, valued his need for privacy and want to be unjudged. Not many knew of his situation and Leon's involvement in Raccoon City. You didn't even know, you never pried.

Shamelessly, a fat smile shone on your face. Leon's expression softened as he found himself in awe. His body itched, craving your touch. Your love. This renowned love blossomed within him.

"You're cute too." That one sentence could make his heart stop if he really went into deep thought about it. Leon never really found himself to be that attractive, yeah his muscles were good in some aspect in his eyes. He did train well, he gave himself that. After all, he was the one many depended on to save the abundance of sick problems this once calm world faced.

Another silence was shared between the two of you - not one of awkwardness but one of solace. Leon didn't feel distressed, he felt calm. You brought out a side of him which he believed was gone. The side being the young man who wasn't scared of the future. A time where he was happy within himself and oblivious. All he could picture was you. You and him happily being each other's bridge.

Each other's home.

"I'm glad we got that out of the way." A breathless voice cut you both out of your trances. Leon flickering his view on you. Your face, those beautiful eyes staring into his own. The soft lips of yours calling out to him. Your bare neck, a blank canvas for his kisses and bites. His eyes then averted to the base of your neck, your chest covered by the black shirt you wore. Feeling his stare, the burning sensation in your cheeks rose. "What... what now?" The scary question was imprinted in your mind. It was obvious you both had a thing for each other, yet what were you going to do about it? Perhaps a relationship could happen between the both of you; would you both just stay work partners?

"Can I.. can I hold you?" Vulnerability was present in Leon's voice. He craved to touch your skin, his fingers twitching slightly from the excitement. Touch starved. That was the true definition of Leon's love life right now. He hadn't involved himself in relationship matters for years and now that the chance popped up with you, he would take what he could get.

You didn't even say yes, your body spoke for you. Wrapping your arms around his chest - you could feel his heartbeat. Rapid pumps thudded into your ear. Strong arms hugged you back clearly stating silently that Leon couldn't let you go. You'd be surprised if his shirt didn't have an imprint of your face since you were so close against him. Breaking free slightly, your head popped up - looking up at him. You were presented with his Adam's apple, slowly bobbing up and down as he swallowed looking down at you. The rough bump alluring you in whilst your hazy eyes lingered on the skin of his neck. Moles sparsely speckled all over his skin. God had crafted Leon himself, you were sure of it.

Moreover, the heat from his body lingered around you. Creating an invisible fortress of affection and love as both of you stared at each other.

A shaky hand pressed against the skin of your cheek, calloused pads caressing you. "You're so pretty." Leon mumbled, shifting a bit. Your touch to him granted him a sense of warmth, he even leaned into it a little - subconsciously seeking comfort. You brought out the 'weak' side of him, it felt nice for him to let down his guard and be himself around you. He let out a pleased hum as he cuddled you, the hold over you was tight. To you, it seemed like he was starved for physical contact and was finally getting the human touch he deserved.

What happened next was a blur, to both of you anyway. The stare-off between his blue eyes and your own turned into your faces being so close together; guaranteed to kiss. An eskimo kiss shared with him, the tips of both your noses touching. Lips hovering over his, your whisper snaps him out of his daze. "Thank you..." Your gratitude granted you a chuckle from Leon but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

Leon continued to stare at you but to pinpoint, he was eying at your lips. They looked so soft, the mere sight of them making his heart race more. He swallowed hard, his mind clouded with the vision of kissing you. An overwhelming sense of desire passing through him - it was need. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't just go in for a kiss; not without consent. Yet he craved to feel his lips against yours.

"Can I kiss you?" His mumbled whisper echoed through your ears. Were you hearing him correctly?

Kiss? You?

Besides, it's not like you were going to straight out reject him. That wasn't even possible in this situation with him; pressed so close against you that you could feel his rock hard boner pressing against your thigh. A nimble nod from you responding to his question was all he needed.

Leon's lips are soft, softer than you would expect. Sweet little kisses are shared, melting you into him. His hands now run down your back, rubbing your skin through the cotton shirt. He hums, tilting your head slightly back to get a better angle. It feels messy as saliva is shared between the two of you. A soft whine escaping you when Leon breaks away. Reining you back in, he gives you another kiss. Pure passion and love interweaved in it.

Kisses soon turn into touches as your fingers manoeuvre around his torso, slowly digging your fingers into him - eliciting a groan out his mouth. His touch on you becomes possessive, kneading your skin in his hands. Leon holds you close and after a few minutes, you find yourself on his lap. His hands automatically went to your hips, gripping you tight as his eyes locked onto yours. Those blue eyes of his roamed your body shamelessly whilst he held you against him, taking in the view of your straddling his hips.

You could feel the hard-on beneath you, begging for some friction. Subconsciously, your hips start to rock slightly, Leon takes full control as he guides you. There was no way he could stop right now, not with how his body was aching so badly and having you on his lap like this. "Can we take this slow? We're both... really tired." A yawn escapes you mid sentence, you can feel yourself getting tired and wet.

"Yeah, we can take this slow. Anything you want love." The nickname shoots desire right into your veins, the rasp in his voice concocted with a tired sigh as he watches you grind on him is heavenly. Shuddering from his touch, Leon brings you down to lay on him - adjusting you on his lap. Your foreheads touch, all you can see is love in his eyes. Leon's fingers tug on your shirt, a breathless chuckle leaving him before he asks the question. "Can I take this off?" He can't help but want to see you, feel you - caress the smoothness of your skin on the pads of his fingers. Hearing you say the word "yes" made his hands work in a fast fashion as your torso was soon left bare.

"So beautiful..." He sat you back up, feeling your flesh mould in-between his fingers. Leon ached for you, he wanted to have more energy to give you the proper fucking you deserved. However, the past mission and the strain it had on both of your bodies exempted him from treating you the way he wanted. So he had to settle for soft, gentle sex. Just like you wanted.

Rapid breathing contradicted the mellow touches shared between you both, your hips continuously rocking slowly before he lifts you up slightly - removing the same sweatpants that were already dangerously low. You're face to face with his boxers, a clear wet patch showcasing the pre-cum that leaked out of his tip.

"See what you do to me?" Leon groaned out, palming himself slowly - your eyes following his every movement. He was enchanting nonetheless, alluring you in with every pump he did to himself. Leon's mind was fogged with you, the view of you turning every cell in his brain insane. He seriously couldn't get enough of your watchful eyes scanning his hand; viewing the pornographic sight in front of you.

Although once again he did think to make this the best sex he's had in a while, it was obvious you both were too tired to even do anything remotely crazy that night. So plain ole cowgirl it is.

Quick work was made for your sweatpants as they were easily tossed to the floor, your panties being the the second piece of protection between you and Leon's boxers straining his dick in place. His hands guided you still, the subtle movements rocking back on forth bringing both of you a sense of release you both needed. Silken kisses bringing out a wave of passion. Playing with the band of his boxers - a dark look appeared in his gaze.

"Impatient?" The mere one word question could've left you astonished if you weren't so hazy from being aroused. Of course you were impatient. He was the embodiment of seduction. "Well, yeah." A laugh escaped both Leon and you, your eyes boring into his.

"Shouldn't keep you waiting should I?"

Sliding your panties to the side; pulling his boxers down, it was easy for his cock to slide in. Eliciting a deep moan from the both of you as kisses were shared once again. Leon couldn't believe how good you felt, he already felt pussy drunk. The two of you shared tired eyes and low whimpers whilst your hips rocked back and forth.

"You're so pretty..." Leon mumbled out, dazed out of his mind looking at how your body synchronised with his. The way his dick was slipping in and out of you, pressing into that sweet spot of yours. How were you so pretty? And how did you already make such a mess? Glancing down, his eyes followed to the feeling of wetness coating the base of his cock - your inner thighs glistening from how wet you were. Completely mesmerised, Leon looked up at you with pure love and lust.

You couldn't talk, not when all your throat could conjure was the moans and low screams as his hips started to jerk up slightly - thrusting himself further in you. Holding onto the bedframe keeping you both afloat, your mumbles tried to alert him from the upcoming orgasm reaching you. "Mmph... L-Leon, I..." was all you could muster. It was the only coherent thing he could understand before feeling you tighten up.

"That's it baby, keep going." The softness in his voice juxtaposed the way his hips were snapping up and down, Leon couldn't help it. Your pussy felt too good wrapped around him. He had to put in the last of his energy to making you feel good at least. Lazily, his hand slowly reached your clothed clit - his fingers slowly rubbing the fabric of your panties. The perfect amount of friction to make your bundle of nerves become overstimulated whilst being stuffed full.

Your tired eyes locked with his, feeling yourself getting closer to seventh heaven. A small smirk plastered on Leon's face, watching you breathlessly whilst his dick twitched too.

"Gotta pull out..." He murmured, his fingers making you reach the pinnacle of your orgasm. "L-Leon!" All you could do was shudder on-top of him, feeling the remaining energy in you seep out alongside your orgasm. Collapsing onto him, Leon subtly slipped himself out, painting your clit and lower stomach with his cum. A low hum leaving him as he kissed the nape of your neck. "You did so well."

Panting heavily, your moan responded to his words. Chuckling to himself, Leon held you close whilst sitting up. Grabbing a few tissues in the box to wipe your tummy.

"Come on, let's get cleaned up."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

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[bananayuyu]

Lust is in the Air

Pairing: Hongjoong x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Your best friends drags you along to a family wedding, wanting to add some fun to your all too serious life. Turns out her uncle is the one who really provides the distraction.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, age gap (Hongjoong is 40 reader is 23), some talk during sex about the age gap so really don't read this if you don't like that, some dom/sub dynamics, throat fucking, degradation and praise, bratty y/n, use of pet names (baby, doll), ass eating, anal, unprotected sex

A/n: Sometimes I see a random video of him and I'm reminded all over again how hot I think a very mature Hongjoong would be. Especially if he was mocking me and making me feel pathetic. Yeah this was pure horny, quite filthy for me. This isn't as proofread as my normal stuff so apologies for any mistakes

------

Well, maybe it was a good idea. You had been staying in every weekend since the breakup, and maybe being forced out of the house would be good for you. Force you to interact with a few people, to actually put some effort into your appearance. Maybe put on a little makeup, or actually brush your hair.

"Please don't say no," Beatrice says through the phone. "My family would love it if you came, and I'd love it if you came. And we haven't had a chance to spend a weekend like this in forever. There will be free food and free booze!"

"I know you're worried about me, Bea," you respond, sighing.

"I'm not inviting you out of pity," she says.

"I know, I know. Just, give me some time to think it over. I've got an assignment I need to finish for one of my classes, I think it's due this Sunday night. So if I can't finish it this week I'll need to do it this weekend," you reply.

"Okay, just text me. I'm not gonna invite anyone else as my plus one, if you don't end up coming. So no rush, take your time," she says.

"Thank you. You know I appreciate you so much," you say, sighing into the cushion of your couch.

"You know I feel the same," she says, sighing too. You'd both been through breakups recently. It seemed like your hardships always occurred on nearly the same timeline, making you both able to rely on each other for understanding. And she knew getting you out of the house, especially for a weekend wedding, would be good for you. Her cousin's family was rich and hadn't held back in their planning, booking the fanciest hotel in town for everyone. They were paying for everything; the food and drinks of course, and everyone's hotel expenses. You'd knew you'd go. You'd try to finish the assignment beforehand. But even if you didn't, you'd still go.

Driving up to the front of the hotel together felt surreal. Beatrice had asked to take your car, as it wasn't the bright purple color that her's was. This place was fancy, and though neither of your cars were deluxe, at least your's was black.

"Miss McArthur?" the valet asked once you rolled your window down.

"Yeah, that's me," Beatrice said from the passenger seat, reaching over you to hand him her ID. "This is my plus one, y/n. She should be on the list."

After a brief look at his clipboard the man gave you both a satisfied nod. "Do you ladies have any bags we can carry up for you?" he asked.

"Yes, in the trunk," Beatrice answered for you, which you were grateful for. You'd never interacted with a valet before, never been in such a fancy situation in your life. You stumbled out of the car a bit awkwardly, your jean shorts and t-shirt looking ridiculous next to the suit and tie of the man in front of you. He held out his hand to you and for a moment you paused, wondering if he was offering to take your hand. But then you realized he was actually offering to take your keys. Duh.

"Thank you," you said quickly, heading around the car to meet Bea as you walked behind the man carrying your bags.

On the sixth floor you entered your shared room, a spacious and beautifully decorated space with a huge window covering the far wall. It was a sliding glass door, that led out to a balcony overlooking the river below. In the afternoon sun the water glittered, but you knew the view at night would be the real show, absolutely magical.

"Everyone is meeting in the restaurant at 7," Bea tells you, glancing at her family's group chat.

"Well then I've got a little over two hours to make myself look at least a little bit nice. Like maybe I actually belong here," you laugh, opening your bag to grab the casual dress you'd packed.

"Oh dinner tonight won't be fancy, wear whatever," Bea replies, kicking off her sandals.

"Okay but, with your cousins family not fancy would still probably be a little fancy, right?" you ask.

"You don't need to worry about fitting in, dude. No one will care," Bea replies.

"I just don't want to look like an idiot," you say, eyeing her.

"Y/n, you really need to stop worrying. This weekend is about us having fun. I'm not even that close with my cousin Amana, to be honest. We'll probably barely interact with her family. But we get to attend this fancy wedding, all expenses paid. Just wear whatever you feel like, do whatever you want to. Just promise me you'll have some fun," she says.

"Okay, fine," you respond, rolling your eyes jokingly. "I guess I'll try to enjoy this super nice luxury hotel for the weekend."

Bea laughs in relief, at hearing you joke around. It was what you both needed more of; you both had serious work and school lives already to contend with. And seriously disappointing dating lives, too.

As seven approaches you both make your way to the elevator, pausing at you exit the door to inspect the slight amount of makeup you'd put on. You hadn't worn any in weeks and it made you feel really pretty, along with the flowly sundress and sandals you'd decided to wear. You weren't always one for such feminine clothing but today it felt right, and you both bounced down the hall, spirits high. Bea led the way through the lobby to a long hallway, past what looked like a bar and some other room that had a bouncer, to the large restaurant at the end. Immediately you saw the long tables lined up, clearly set up for the wedding party. This wasn't the dress rehearsal, just the welcome dinner. It was only Friday, and the wedding wasn't until Sunday. Immediately you spotted the wine and appetizers filling the table, scanning the tables to try to find your seats.

"I can't find us Bea," you laugh, awkwardly walking past family members you'd never met before.

"Y/n, you're at our table," you hear a familiar female voice say, and turn to see Bea's mom.

"Oh, hi! Thank you!" you say as you walk over to her, giving her a quick hug.

"So glad you could join us sweetie," she says, gesturing to your seats. "See, you and Beatrice are near the end there, across from Nathan. Oh and have you met Beatrice's uncle Hongjoong before?" she asks, gesturing down the table.

You look down to see Beatrice sitting, pulling her chair under her and smiling wide. Across from her, in a casual but fitted grey t-shirt, a man smiles back, handing her a glass of wine he's just poured. He is striking, with jet black hair and tattoos, piercings donning his right ear. His jaw is sharp, his teeth perfect when he smiles. He looks maybe 27, 28. He's wearing an expensive watch, or at least a watch that looks expensive to your eyes, and a small simple chain necklace. His hair is cropped short at the sides; he looks so put together, so professional. So mature. So fucking attractive.

"That's Bea's uncle?" you ask her. It's not just his age that makes you ask. It's the fact that he's basically your dream come true. You see the muscles in his arm flex as he pours Nathan a glass too, and it makes your eyes cross for a moment.

"Well technically I think he's a second cousin, once removed, or something like that. He's a part of Wooyoung's family." Wooyoung was her husband, Bea's dad. You'd met her parents, and her brother Nathan, but never anyone else in her extended family. And you struggled to recall ever hearing about a Hongjoong before. You stared at him a moment before he moved his eyes over to you, catching you off guard. His look was mischievous, like he wants to play or mess with you. It made it hard to believe this was someone Bea called 'uncle.'

"Do you want to sit?" Bea's mom asked you.

"Yeah, sorry," you smiled at her, making you way down.

"Y/n! This is my uncle Hongjoong, and Hongjoong, this is y/n," Beatrice says as you pull out your seat next to her.

"Very nice to meet you," he says with an outstretched hand, his handshake strong and confident in a way that makes your body tingle.

"You as well," you reply, with a bashful smile. Immediately Bea asks you a question and you respond on auto-pilot, not even really hearing. Because your head is swimming in water just from being in this man's presence, and you can't focus. You don't even notice the glass of wine he'd poured you until he sets it down by your appetizer plate, gently bumping the stem on the rim of the plate to make a gentle clink. The sound makes your eyes snap up, and for some reason he looks amused.

"Oh, thank you," you say to him, bowing your head slightly. That mischievous smirk is back on his face when you lock eyes again, like he's trying to tell you something, but you can't be sure what it is. You certainly hope he's thinking what you're thinking. God, he's fucking stunning.

Those are the only words you speak to each other for the entirety of dinner. With so many people in attendance the restaurant is loud, louder still as everyone becomes tipsy, and then outright drunk on the unlimited wine.

"Hey, my parents want me a Nathan to go take pictures with them on the golf course nearby. They booked a photo shoot or something," Bea tells you, rolling her eyes slightly. "I'm not sure when we'll be back but feel free to like, go to the hot tub or do whatever around the hotel," she says.

"Okay, sounds good. Thank you, seriously," you say as you hug her. "I hope it's fun."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," she laughs. "My parents and their family photos," she shakes her head, making you giggle, as she slowly makes her way to meet her brother at the front door of the restaurant.

You take stock of yourself for a moment, making sure you have your phone and your wallet in your purse, making sure your room key is still in your wallet. You take the last swig of your second glass of wine, patting yourself on the back for not overdoing it this first night when basically everyone around you did. You start sipping on your nearly empty glass of water too, knowing you don't want to wake up hungover tomorrow. The table is basically empty, with everyone slowly clearing out or making their last requests at the bar. You decide you'll go explore in a moment, go scope out the pool and hot tub situation, and maybe see if you can figure out what room is behind that bouncer. But just as you start standing up, Hongjoong approaches the table.

"I got some more waters for the table, but it looks like they've all left," he chuckles, his arms full.

"They went to do a family photo, Bea said," you reply, stuck for a moment awkwardly between sitting and standing. Hongjoong nods, like he already knew.

"Oh, were you about to leave too? Don't let me keep you," he says, the glint back in his eye again.

"I was thinking I'd go take a look at the pool and hot tub, maybe explore a bit," you say. It sort of takes you by surprise that you're sharing this with a total stranger, given your usual instinct to not share anything with people you don't know. You easily could have excused yourself, and been exploring the hotel alone. But deep down you know why you're sharing it. You hope he picks up on that reason, too.

"That's a great idea," he says, gently setting the waters down. "Mind if I join you? I was thinking of exploring the hotel some myself."

Bingo. You smile, eyes fluttering at him for a second. You truly don't even mean to do it, but the way he looks at you has you feeling shameless.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind," you reply, stepping out from your chair and gently pushing it into the table.

"Want to take a water with you?" he asks, holding one out.

"I don't think we can just take the glass with us," you reply, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Oh, who cares," he says glancing over his shoulder, seeing all of the wait staff occupied at the bar with everyone's last minute orders. "I'll carry it out, if you're that worried," he says, cocking his head slightly to the side and eyeing you with what must be mock pity.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at him, trying to fight the smile forming on your face from betraying how much his tone and facial expression are affecting you. You turn around and start strolling out of the restaurant, not even waiting for him. Once you're exiting he's already caught up, two water glasses in hand. You turn to your right, heading for the lobby.

"Wrong way, y/n," Hongjoong says lowly from behind you, making you stop in your tracks. "The pool is out those doors and the end of the hall."

"The sign in the lobby says the door to the pool is by the front desk," you reply, looking over your shoulder at him. The hallway is dimly lit, and the shadows on his face make his jaw look even sharper.

"Well that door also leads to the pool," he says, gesturing to the end of the hall. You just stare at him a moment, not sure why you feel the instinct to argue. "You don't believe me?" he asks, chuckling and looking you dead in the eye, before obviously snaking his gaze down the entirety of your body. Now that he's standing you see the fitted black pants and black dress shoes he's wearing, making his outfit look even more professional. His thighs look strong, and his stance is one of confidence, his entire demeanor cool and collected. You want to come up with a witty retort but can't think of anything, so you just start walking the way he's said to, again passing him by without slowing down to meet him. You open the doors gently but don't stop to hold them for him, brattiness taking ahold of you. Maybe it's the fancy hotel, or the wine, but you feel like a princess who deserves whatever she wants. And right now that's to piss Hongjoong off a bit, and see the pool.

"I thought nice girls hold doors open for the elderly," he says once he's exited too, sidling up to you. You stand by the long edge of the pool, taking in the lights below the surface that dance through the water. You turn to him and roll your eyes, taking the water glass he offers you immediately. "So, what do you do?" he asks.

"I'm still in school, I'm in my senior year," you say, turning back to the water. "And I work part time as an administrative assistant in the Dean's office, to help cover some of my tuition."

"College senior," he says, like he's mulling it over. "So that makes you how old?"

"Guess," you say, turning to him again, this time with your whole body.

"22," he replies. His voice low, like he's hesitant to say it.

"Close, 23," you say, not lowering your voice to meet his.

"And how old do you think I am?" he asks you, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mmm, like, 38?" you joke, squinting your eyes as you look intently at his face. The feeling of wanting to piss him off still hadn't left you.

"How astute," he replies, nodding. "People usually think I'm younger."

"You're actually 38?" you ask, bewildered.

"Actually, 40," Hongjoong replies, making your eyebrows shoot up.

"You're lying," you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him.

"Wow, second time tonight you've thought that. I don't know what I've done to make you think so poorly of me," he replies, that mischievous look again painting his face.

"Oh, shut up," you say, rolling your eyes harder this time, wanting to reach out and playfully punch him. Or maybe not so playfully. He's looking more and more perfect by the second, and his attitude, the way he's just so confident and calm, is making you hot and bothered. You know it maybe it's wrong, but now that you know his real age you find this whole scenario even hotter. If you were honest with yourself you'd always dreamed of fucking an older man, but the few you'd gone on dates with or had the chance to talk to had always been so immature, insecure, and underwhelming. Just like all the other guys you'd dated. It was a massive disappointment to learn that age didn't often give people that self-assured demeanor that you so desired. But clearly it did sometimes; the proof was standing in front of you.

"That wasn't very nice," Hongjoong replies, fixing you with a look of disapproval that makes your thighs clench involuntarily, as the two of you stare each other down merely feet apart. You hold his gaze as long as you can before you look down at your feet, his stoic demeanor feeling like a brick wall you can't break through.

"You're very pretty, y/n," he says, stepping forward to lift your face up to his.

"Really?" you ask him, eyes wide. Playing it just the way he likes.

"I know you know how pretty you are, you've been giving me those eyes all night," he says, looking like he disapproves. "You're a bit of brat, too, aren't you?" he asks, his hand moving to the side of your cheek.

"No comment," you giggle, and he grabs your hand, bringing it to his upper arm. You grab onto his bicep as he moves his hand to your waist pulling you two closer.

"Dance with me," he says, pulling you slightly into his chest.

"There isn't any music playing," you say, laughing. And it's the way that he doesn't just automatically laugh at your little comments that really gets you going.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't like me very much," he says seriously, pulling you in and starting to rock you back and forth. You dance together for a few minutes, no words being exchanged as your bodies get used to the proximity, as your mind begins to swim again, even more so now that his hands are on you. You want him to kiss you, do anything, now, but he keeps his hands where they are, still leading you around in slow circles. Fuck it, you think. You lift your hands to his face and pull him in, your lips meeting in a perfect kiss, his hand on your waist moving up your back as he holds you to him, leaning you back as he deepens it. You hold steadily onto his bicep for balance, your breathing fast as you stick your tongue in his mouth, not hiding your desperation. You don't care to, not when you've spent two months without this feeling, tortured over the idea that no one at your school would ever consider you an option after your last relationship ended the way it did.

And just when it seems like you're the only desperate one, Hongjoong moves his hands down, running them up your thighs and under your dress to find your panties. He finds none, much to his surprise, which makes his dick harden even further. He gropes your ass, deepening the kiss more, making you arch your back in neediness. And then he snakes his hand around, slowly moving to your core, before suddenly running a finger over your slit, making you gasp. You've forgotten where you are, totally engrossed in the feelings he's giving you. You buck your hips against his hand, moaning pathetically into his mouth, your legs feeling like they might give out on you. He starts circling your entrance, finally pushing one finger in maybe an inch, when you finally remember where you are.

"Wait, fuck, not out here," you say, pulling back from him. He pulls his hand away immediately, his fingers glistening in the lights of the night.

"You don't want everyone to see?" he asks, a smirk on his face.

"Not when the people paying for me to be here could see," you say. Your lips look swollen and wet from the kiss, and it makes him want to grab you again.

"You're the one who kissed me," he says, his voice low. And you know there's more he's implying, that you weren't just the one who kissed him but that you had rocked against his hand, had wanted his touch. That you'd kissed him desperately, making him unable to stop himself. The implication is inappropriate, the accusation he's laid on you not fair in the slightest. He has no way of knowing what you were trying to make him do, or what you wanted to happen. You hadn't said a word. And yet, he's totally right, making it hard for you to respond.

"That's-," you sigh, your pussy still throbbing from your proximity.

"My room is on the 7th floor," he says.

"Okay," you reply. It's all you can say. You stand completely still, stuck to the spot, waiting for him to move. Instead he puts his wet fingers in his mouth, sucking off your slick in one smooth motion, humming in satisfaction. Your mouth gapes at his lewdness, struck now by just how visible you both obviously are.

"Let's go," he says, motioning his head towards the door.

Your legs move automatically, your mind playing over and over the visual of him licking his fingers, the look of utter bliss on his face. As you walk the hallway he comes behind you, putting a hand on the small of your back, making your body melt into him slightly. It feels good but you gently remove his hand, not wanting anyone to see. You pray that neither Bea nor any of her family are in the lobby when you enter, and thankfully, your prayers are answered. Nor does anyone join you two on the elevator, which makes you willing to stand closer to Hongjoong than you would any other stranger. But still, you don't touch him. As you both exit you walk behind him, almost enough space between you that you could believably look like two total strangers, walking to separate rooms. Until he unlocks his door, holding it open as you slip inside, like you're really not supposed to be in here.

As soon as he closes the door he's pulled you to him, his back slamming into the wall as you nearly crash together, the air between you thick with lust.

"I'm almost twice as old as you, y/n," he whispers in your ear, feeling your pussy clench against his thigh that you're straddling, your mouth on his neck. "You like that," he states, not even asking you anymore. "You like that I'm way too old for you. Too old to be touching you like this."

It's wrong, so wrong and you know it, but the further he pushes it the more you're surrendering to what's happening, to what your body truly craves.

"You've never been fucked right by those stupid boys at your college, have you? You need me to fuck you right, to show you how good you can feel. That's why you were bratty with me, you wanted me to be riled up. Want me to fuck you hard, like I'm mad. Like I'm punishing you," he growls, his breathing heavy as you bite down on his neck, sending sparks of pain and pleasure through his head. "Fuck, you really want me mad, don't you?" he asks and you whine in response, your whole body tingly with anticipation.

"Get on your knees," he says, pulling you back from him, your hair already a mess from his hands, the straps of your dress falling down your shoulders and nearly making your tits spill out. "Open your mouth," he commands, and you follow immediately, your wide eyes looking up at him in desire, his thumb running over your bottom lip. "I like when you do what I say," he says, pinching your cheek and making you blush, the praise making your insides turn to jelly. He unzips his pants smoothly, undoing the button and swiftly pulling out his hard cock, the tip a slight shade of red and already leaking slightly.

"Look what you did to me," he says, palming himself, your tongue nearly falling out of your mouth as you salivate over his beautiful cock. "I thought for a moment I'd have to come up here and deal with this all on my own, after you eye-fucked me all dinner," he continues, slowly stroking his length, moving closer to your open and waiting lips. "I should have known you weren't wearing any panties from the way you were acting," he says, gently running his tip along your outstretched tongue, spreading your spit around your face with it and making a mess of you. "No bra, no panties. You wanted to be fucked tonight." Slowly he enters your mouth, gently holding your head as he pushes further in, gently tapping the back of your throat and making you gag. You moan, your pussy clenching around nothing, wanting him to fill all of your holes at once. "That feels good, doesn't it. Gagging on my cock," he smirks, your eyes fluttering closed as he pushes in again, this time a little harder. "Eyes on me baby, don't look away," he says, slowly beginning to fuck your throat, gently enough not to choke you but deep enough to make you repeatedly gag, your spit covering his cock and running down your chin, your face a complete mess. "Fuck, your mouth feels good," he groans, his face scrunching up in pleasure for a moment, before he looks down to meet your eyes again, which are now glued to him, glued to every change in his expression, every flick of his tongue across his bottom lip. "I'm gonna go harder baby, I know you can take it," he warns you before picking up his pace, his cock nearly bottoming out in your mouth as he holds your head in place, repeatedly fucking into your throat. You're automatically swallowing around him, your body's reflexive actions taking over. "Fuck, so good," Hongjoong sighs, your head feeling light from the lack of oxygen and your body swimming in pleasure. You could let him use your throat all night if he wanted to, especially if he keeps talking to you like that. Like you're dumb and you don't even know what you want. Like he has to tell you or you'll never figure it out.

Finally you choke hard, your body instinctively pulling you back, and he pulls out of your mouth letting you catch you breath, stroking a hand through your hair. You run a hand across your mouth, trying in vain to clean yourself up a bit, wiping the saliva on your dress and staring up at him open mouthed, your entire body covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Hey, don't ruin this," he says pulling at your dress, moving behind you to help take it off. He slowly undoes the zipper, gently pulling the straps down and off your arms before helping you stand to step out of it. Completely bare, you stand in front of him, his hand coming up to spank you, grabbing your ass hungrily in his hand. You yelp at the impact, like you weren't expecting it. Like you hadn't been sticking your ass out ever so slightly, arching your back to add to the affect. "Don't write checks you can't cash, doll," he says, making you giggle and turn your head to face him, a look of utter delight on your face. "It really makes you happy when I scold you, doesn't it," he says, staring you down.

"Why are you so clothed?" you ask, finding your words.

"You want to see me naked?" he teases.

"Just seems like you're hiding something. Maybe under all that nice clothing you're really not that built," you laugh, knowing it would strike a nerve. It wasn't hard to tell that he cared about his figure.

"Go sit on your hands on the bed," he retorts, his eyes narrowing, as he starts taking off his watch, undoing the clasp on his chain. He sets both down on the table gently, pulling his shirt over his head next, revealing that most of his abdomen is also covered in tattoos, his broad shoulders and broad chest. Slowly he sits on the side of the bed to untie his shoes, periodically looking up at you to make sure you haven't moved, moving almost comically slow. You wriggle in anticipation, watching him slowly reveal himself, his muscular thighs finally on display to you as he pulls down his pants and boxers, his cock hard and a deeper shade of red now, still glistening from your spit.

"Lay on your stomach," he says, moving over you when you oblige, raking the hair out of your face so he can see you. "This is what you get for sticking your ass out," he says, swiftly moving down to lick over your hole, making you gasp at the coldness of his tongue. Immediately the feeling runs to your clit, your entire crotch alive with pleasure, your back arching instinctively to meet his movements. He spreads your cheeks to get better access, moving his tongue in quick circles around your tight entrance, your body slowly relaxing from the pleasure he's providing.

And suddenly he's off of you, reaching into his bedside drawer and pulling out a bottle, swiftly lubing the fingers of his right hand and moving them to your waiting hole, gently pushing one in. You groan, the tight muscles stretching already, your body arching even further to give him the perfect angle as he gently starts pumping in and out of you.

"You like getting your ass eaten, I knew you would. So dirty," he says, making you whine in agreement, your brows scrunched together in pleasure. Soon he adds another finger, the stretch again making you groan, your body instinctively tightening up at the intrusion. "I know you can take it," he says, not even attempting to comfort you. "Don't brats like getting their asses fucked?" he asks, his words making your clit ache, your body finally releasing again as he works you open with two fingers, taking the opportunity to quickly add another. "I knew it," he says, satisfied with how quickly he's stretched you open, how pliant your body is in his hands, how he's getting exactly what he wants from you. Still fucking you with his fingers, he opens the lube bottle again with his other hand, generously dousing his achingly hard cock. Gently he pulls his fingers out of you, frozen for a moment staring at the way your hole has opened up, nearly drooling from the visual.

"Spread you legs," he says, pushing your knees apart himself, pulling you ass up towards him, just where he wants you. Lining himself up, he slowly pushes in, the stretch even more severe this time, making you whine in pain, your breaths short and stifled with your head now shoved into his pillows. "What, you can't take it? Is it too big?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "My little brat can't take my cock in her ass?"

Tears start forming in your eyes from how turned on you are, the pain a secondary feeling as it all starts to feel just right, as it starts morphing into only pleasure as your muscles finally relent. You feel like you're being split open, like you're opened up more than ever before, like he's gutting you from the inside. Finally he bottoms out, reaching into you further than you thought you could feel, your clit throbbing painfully with need.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans from above you, brushing a hand along your cheek in an almost sweet gesture, seeing the single tear stain on your cheek. He waits a moment, waiting to feel if your body is ready, and suddenly your hips are moving into his like your body is begging him to move. He slowly pulls out, almost all the way, then thrusts back in, making you gasp at the intense pleasure, your breath nearly getting caught in your throat. Grabbing your hips he starts forcefully thrusting, chasing his own pleasure as he's sucked into your ass, the tight muscles threatening to make him come in an instant. Desperate for some relief you move your hand to your clit, desperately trying to circle it as he rocks you hard with the force of his thrusts. His eyes are glued to your ass, glued to the way his cock looks buried inside you, and your face, the way your mouth hangs permanently open as you moan in earnest, clearly not controlling a single sound that is coming out. The raw sounds make him fuck into you even harder, the way you sound so pathetically fucked out, like you can't believe this feels so good. Eventually his eyes roam down again and spot your hand, swatting it away in an instant, his anger boiling up again.

"Is my cock not enough?" he scolds, his voice gravelly from breathing so raggedly, the air in the room stiflingly hot. In this position it's hard, but quickly he finds a good angle and lands a sharp smack on your clit, the pain lancing through your core like lightning, and suddenly your whole body is shaking, your nerves completely on fire. "Even with my cock buried in your ass you want to piss me off, don't you?" His voice is raised, nearly to the point of losing control, but still very calculated. He lands another sharp slap on your clit, this time not as hard, but in an instant your orgasm washes over you, your whole body shaking hard as you squeeze down around his cock making it hard for him to keep moving.

"Fuck, baby, shit," Hongjoong curses, his climax hitting him by surprise, his cock milked by your tight walls squeezing down on him, your body taught with just how hard you came. His orgasm crashes over him fast and hard, his body going limp just after yours does, as you both collapse in a pile on the bed, his cum coating the walls of your ass in silky wetness. Your legs are still shaking, tucked up underneath you, his cock still buried deep inside. The position is awkward but you don't even feel it, the pleasure still rippling through you as you breath hard into the soft pillow. Hongjoong crashes onto your back, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, his chest and stomach rapidly rising and falling from his heavy breathing. His skin feels sticky and hot against yours, his hot breath fanning over your cheek as he plants a kiss there, intently watching your face as you come down.

"I'm gonna pull out now, okay?" he asks, eliciting a hum of agreement from you. Slowly he pulls backwards, his cum spilling out of you the moment he's pulled out entirely, spilling down your ass cheek onto the bedsheets. Hongjoong makes his way to the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up before grabbing a washcloth for you, dousing it in luke warm water. Coming back to the bed he gently moves you onto your back, to the side of the pool of cum. He gently wipes you down, making you moan when he brushes over your clit, making himself chuckle.

Glancing over at the clock beside his bed you see it's nearly 11pm, your mind spinning. Quickly you move to the ground to rummage through your purse, glancing at your phone to see a text from Beatrice reading 'I'm back now, don't stay out too late miss.'

Be back soon, you write back.

"I should be going," you say, trying to stand up, your wobbly legs making it difficult. Hongjoong is at your side in a moment, stabilizing you, helping you to sit down on the bed while he grabs your dress off the floor. You hastily pull it over your head, running your fingers through your hair and feeling the knots that have formed. Quickly you zip the back of your dress, shove your phone in your purse and stand to slip on your sandals, not wanting to keep her waiting. The sudden quietness of Hongjoong also has you feeling slightly on edge, and really your head is just spinning, from every unexpected thing that happened.

"I'm not still mad, you know," he says gently, grabbing your hand as you move to breeze past him.

"Yeah?" you ask, looking at him with confusion.

"You don't need to still be acting like a kid who is in trouble," he says, kissing your hand. "That was just, that. You can talk to me like anyone else, now."

You eye him, swallowing thickly. What does one even say, now? Could he tell how inexperienced you were with hookups?

"I'm not sure what's going on in that pretty head of yours. I hope it's happy thoughts."

You nod, a smirk playing on your lips. You're speechless, unable to think a complete thought. It all just plays in your head, his tongue on your ass, his fingers stretching you out, his cock pounding into you so hard. And the smack on your clit, the way it made you come so fast, the ghost of the feeling still present in your core.

"Not those thoughts. You're gonna jump me again," he laughs, and finally you smack him, punching his arm soon afterwards. Pushing past him you walk fast, opening his door and spinning around, your eyes piercing as you meet his.

"What, you can't take my teasing?" he asks, but suddenly his door swings shut, your face gone in a flash.

As you saunter down the hall to the elevator you feel fucking amazing, swinging your purse over your shoulder and flipping your hair to the side, your sleepy eyes boring holes into the metal doors.

Well, she did tell you to have some fun. You just hoped Beatrice wouldn't be too mad you fucked her uncle.

[chiscaralight]

don't fuck your enemy!

synopsis: you just so happened to end up drunk with your enemy in the club bathroom. what would be more fuck than punching him in the face? fucking him!

includes: nsfw! scara x reader public sex ish. slight degradation. unprotected bathroom sex, p in v sex, mentions of oral sex, reader is under the influence but its all consensual. slight car sex, little bit of regret. this feels new to me, but I absolutely loved writing it! based off a request that I will link here

“scaraaa…”

“quit whining.”

you’re wiggling your hips to him, as he struggles to get his belt off.

“you’re obnoxious. is this how you treat everyone you say you hate? slut.”

“and you’re the one feeding into it. just shut up and-“

the moan you let out is drowned in the music. it’s not loud enough to draw attention, but if anyone else is in the bathroom, they’d definitely hear it. it’s not your fault you’re in this position, after a couple of rounds of shots, this stupid, sexy man wouldn’t stop staring at you in what he says is ‘disgust’. hard to believe when he wasted no time in following through with your advances, pressing you against the stall wall and crashing his lips onto yours.

but yes, you’re a slut for letting him push his cock past your lips, keeping your eyes trained on him as he groaned about how good that felt when you weren’t spewing bullshit, or you nuzzling your head into his hand as he tangles his fingers in your well-done hair.

but no, he’s not a fucking whore for dragging you off the ground and for bunching your short dress up at your hips. nor is he one for pressing his lips against your skin, marking up and down your neck as his fingers glide over your clothed hole before pulling your panties into the side.

you won’t let it get to you now though, because the mixture of the alcohol making your mind spin, with the way the heat from his fingers is dancing around your body, tracing obscure shapes into the fat of your hips before sliding up to cup your breasts is enough to keep any other words out of your mouth, save for his name.

it’s almost insane how good he is because he’s rocking just enough to hit you with enough force, but not enough to shake the plastic frame of the makeshift wall. your hands are finding his wrists, trying to ground yourself to something, anything while he fucks your senses away in the bathroom of some upscale nightclub, trying to ground himself from how good you feel. this has to be wrong on so many levels, fucking you, after everything you’ve said, he’s said, you’ve done, he’s done?

that seems to be the least of your worries now because he can see your eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out of your mouth as he slides a finger into the heat of your mouth. your reactions to his touch are quick, the way you jerk into his hand, or close your lips around his fingers like it was nothing. like it’s what you were made to do. his wet digits now slide back down towards your swollen clit, applying a certain pressure that has you crying out his name with that grating, gorgeous voice of yours. he doesn’t even have it in him to silence you, he’s twitching at the way it rolls off your tongue. fuck, if he knew you’d be this perfect, he would have cut the bullshit and bent you over long ago! but maybe it was more rewarding like this, fleeting memories of all the times he’s pumped his cock to the thought of your face moving through his mind, as your lewd expression brings him back to you.

he’s craning his head the slightest bit to catch your eye. when he does, you smile. and he could cum right then and there from the way your eyes crinkle at the corners through the flush of your cheeks. you mouth out a silent ‘kiss’, and he’s on you in an instant, tongue sliding against yours as the bitter taste of the alcohol finds its way toward him. but he doesn’t care about that. he’s more concerned about the way you’re starting to writhe and shake against him, becoming more and more unsettled with the lack of your own movement. so you do your best to stop him, pushing him off of you as you finally get to breathe. your words come out with a sweet giggle, finger pressing against his chest as your drunken state blurs your vision the slightest amount.

“wanna ride you, pretty boy.”

if anyone who didn’t know the two of you were to for some reason swing this door open now, they’d think the two of you were insatiable lovers who just couldn’t wait to make it home. to anyone that doesn’t know you, they’d probably have to wipe their eyes twice to pretend they weren’t seeing you bounce on scaramouche’s cock like this. he’s seated on the closed toilet lid, absolutely dazed as you ride him to bits. your nails are digging into his shoulders hard, giving you strong balance as you move with a determination even he can’t fathom. but you’ve been dreaming of this, finally getting him to shut up with that pussy or yours, it’s a shame you didn’t get to shove his face in it; but maybe it’s for the best. even in this mindset you know tomorrow is going to be full of headaches and a lot of unanswered questions, so why not enjoy the now? keep anything from getting too far. what exactly is too far you ask? you’re not sure either, because licking into each other's mouths while he fucks up into you would be seen as pretty far for some people.

and he breaks away first, lazy eyes searching yours as he mumbles about his coming orgasm. you’re smiling that stupid smile that makes his dick twitch again, and giving him a polite nod. his eyebrows furrow.

“inside? you sure?”

you’re rolling your eyes at the obscurity of it all. he can ‘discretely’ slide your expensive lace panties into his pocket, press you up against this gross wall, and even fuck you presumably drunk. but cumming inside you is weird.

“yes-yes! i’m sure. just-just hurry up,”

and he’s smacking his teeth at the tone of your voice, hand coming down strong on the swell of your ass while he starts to chase his orgasm. your breaths are shallow, deep with intent as you grind against him, brushing up close to him so you can release in tandem with him.

it works a little too well, because you’re spasming against him in a way that he’s never seen before. your orgasm, plus the feeling of his cum starting to paint your inside white hot with thick spurts is peeling away any reservations you had about this whole situation before, moans loud and cracking as you ride it out for the two of you. his head is hung back, adam’s apple bobbing only a slight bit as he comes to, the soft bite you give it making him snap his head back down before he pinches your thigh. you pout, but begin to get up nonetheless, because you’ve probably spent way too long in here already.

you're much more sober now, trying to ignore the daggers that scaramouche is glaring into your back as you adjust your outfit in the mirror.

"was the sex really that bad?"

the statement is supposed to sound snarky, but it comes out more desperate than anything. you clear your throat, focusing your attention on the paint on the floor instead, dreadfully anticipating how he will bite back this time. but he doesn't. instead, you're greeted with the plush of his lips against yours, hands finding a home on your hips omce again as you grip at his collar. you're moaning into his mouth once more, attempting to slide your tongue against his.

but he pulls away before you can, beelining for the exit door instead. your lips are in a hard pout. as you hear him mumble something about needing to go home. you also happen to catch the part where he more clearly states the exact parking space his car is in right now before letting the door swing shut.

you're alone with your thoughts now. your mind is much clearer, and you're visibly torn between doing the right thing, that is, going back to your friends and enjoying the party like you should've been, or going down and potentially making the same albeit lovely, very rewarding mistake twice. the way the 'fuck it' rolls off your tongue now is a secure answer to what you decide to do, quickly making your way towards where you hope your friends are before announcing that you'll be on your way.

it's been minutes, seven exactly, scaramouche is counting. he shouldn't be here, he should've left immediately he stuck the key in the ignition. but he's waiting rather impatiently, in hopes that you'd find your way down. he knows you're not stupid, he knows you would regret it, hell, he should be regretting it too. but that annoying little feeling in his heart won't let him pull out of the space just yet. and thank archons for that, because he can see the pattern of your dress outside his tinted window as you tap on the glass.

the silence once you get in is stupidly uncomfortable. the air is thick with tension, both of you avoiding each other's gazes as the impact of your previous actions weighs in the air. scaramouche takes the initiative to speak first.

"we should-"

"your windows are tinted. can you eat me out?"

he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"you're absolutely insufferable."

"l-less talking, please."

he'll roll his eyes, but dip his head back down between your legs all the same. you're sprawled out in his back seat, fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue assaults your folds. maybe the first kiss was a mistake, maybe him fucking you aginst the wall was a big mistake. but his fingers sliding into you now? curling just exactly where they should be? there's no mistake here.

[babyleostuff]

˚ ༘♡ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

― the moment in which the seventeen members find out their significant other hid their injury from them

s.coups

first of all - the chance of cheol not knowing you got hurt is this big 🤏🏻 mans somehow knows everything when it comes to you, even if he’s overseas he. still. knows. he would be… i don’t want to say disappointed in you not telling him, because you’re still your own person and he cannot tell you what to do, but… he just cares about you so much, truly. the thought of you hurt or in pain without him knowing is heartbreaking to cheol. he’s a caretaker through and through, especially for his significant other - there’s nothing seungcheol wouldn’t do for them. at the same time, though, he feels so proud to have a partner that is so strong.

jeonghan

the second he finds out you got hurt or injured jeonghan becomes quite passive aggressive. he’s not necessarily angry with you, it’s just that… what wouldn’t you tell him? he’s your boyfriend, he’s supposed to be next to you and care for you when you need it. you do the same for him, so why would you push him away? hannie understands that sometimes you just need your space, and everyone is different when it comes to being sick and in pain, but he’d still be a bit hurt by you not telling him. at the end of the day, he’d try to talk to you, though, and explain why it was so important to him to know.

joshua

it’s not that he’s angry, more like disappointed (all that disappointment, though, doesn’t come from pettiness or anger, but care and love). he gets that people react differently to getting injured, but still - he’s your boyfriend, and a boyfriend that cares a lot at that. shua always respects all of your decisions, no matter what, but when you get hurt and don’t tell him… you might not see it as important enough, but to him, your well-being and comfort is all that matters. he can’t imagine how you must’ve felt going through all of that alone, and yes, he gets that that was what you wanted, but still. 

jun

tries his best not to show how it affects him, when he finds out about your injury, but fails miserably. jun is a bit disappointed that you didn’t tell him first things first, because he’d be more than happy to take care of you (and he’d have the perfect opportunity to be extra clingy). would be unusually pouty and whiny after, waddling after you at any given moment and asking you “why? why didn’t you tell him?”. was it because you didn’t trust him and his caretaker abilities, did you think it wasn’t big enough of a deal to tell him about, or maybe you saw your injury as a burden? he needs to know or else he won’t be able to fall asleep. 

hoshi

you don’t want to keep something as serious as an injury from soonyoung, because the second he finds out you got hurt AND didn’t think about telling him, he gives you the silent treatment + becomes so hard to deal with. he can be petty when he’s in a good mood, so imagine how he’d be behaving after finding out. hoshi gets so frustrated because why wouldn’t you tell him? it’s a whole ass injury, not a scratch, there’s nothing that could excuse you from not telling him. he’s aware he’s not the best with taking care of injuries, but that doesn’t matter he wouldn't do his absolute best. just… tell him next time. 

wonwoo

he can feel his eye twitch when he finds out about your injury. it gets even worse when you tell him it wasn’t that big of a deal and he shouldn't worry. immediate game over for jeon wonwoo. you might think he wouldn’t get as annoyed by it as other members who are more outwardly affectionate… WRONG + he doesn’t consider himself the overprotective type, ALSO WRONG. wonwoo is a man who lives for you and your comfort even if he doesn’t see that himself, so the fact that you didn’t bother to tell him about something as big as an literal injury??? JAIL!!! will cross his arms and stump his feet to make a point. 

woozi

he understands that for you it might be a small thing, your injury, that you don't see it as something important enough to tell him about, but… it’d still kind of hurt jihoon if you didn’t tell him? like, on one hand he’s so enchanted by you because you're so independent and strong and willing to go through your pain alone, but on second he’s your boyfriend. he might not be the most obvious with how he shows his love and physical touch and outward words of affirmation, but he still cares. a lot. he wants to take care of you, he wants to keep you warm and as comfy as he can, so please don’t brush off matters like that. 

dk

at first he’s very confused when he finds out that you got injured, because that can’t be true, right? you’d immediately tell him if you got hurt, 100%. but when seokmin realises that your injury was not a cruel joke he nearly cries. why, why on earth wouldn’t you tell him? and it crushes him so much - you, in pain, without him by your side to hold your hand through it all. he’s quite a mess afterwards, trying to gather his emotions. because he has to get through to you and try to explain how much it hurt him that you didn’t tell him. even if you refuse his help, he just needs to know, that’s all.

mingyu

there’s a hit of annoyance in gyu when he finds out that you got hurt and didn’t tell him. like… you’re well aware of how big of a caretaker mingyu is, and how important acts of service are for him, and yet you decide to hide the injury from him. why? he understands that a part of you might think of yourself as a burden, but he has told you numerous times how happy it makes him when you ask him for help, even with the smallest things. but you’re still pushing him away? it’s just - it’s so gut wrenching when he finds out that you had to suffer on your own and he didn’t know.

the8

huh, so you don’t believe in his healing abilities? hao becomes extremely petty, because no one’s better at being a certified nurse than him (not even a real nurse), and with you not telling him he feels like you don’t trust him enough to take care of you properly. he genuinely likes to take care of his loved ones, he doesn’t mind being the housewife, and he definitely doesn't think you’re a burden because of your injury, so why would you hide it? after he finds out he sits you down and has a talk with you - hao tries to explain his point of view and how it made him feel when you didn’t tell him, and why you shouldn’t hide things like that from him. 

seungkwan

gets so so so petty, oh my god. huh, so you, his girlfriend, didn’t tell him, your boyfriend, you got hurt? you just didn’t? yeah, not on boo seungkwan’s watch. why on earth wouldn’t you call him first things first? he’s your literal boyfriend, it’s his duty and privilege to take care of you, keep you warm and loved, no matter what. and he doesn’t want to hear that “but i don’t want to be a burden” shit, because you. are. not. and you could never be one. so you’re trying to tell him you were hurt and alone while he was living his best life? he’d make sure to talk to you and make you swear you’d tell him next time a situation like that would occur. 

vernon

on one hand he understands that you might not see the injury as something big enough to tell him, like - he has gotten hurt in the past and didn’t tell you either, but… it’d be nice if you did. vernon is not sure why he’s bothered by you not telling him, usually he’s very okay with most of your decisions, but a part of him is scared that the reason you hid the injury is because of you thinking he won’t care. yes, he might not be the best at taking care of people and prefers being the one taken care of, but you’re his partner and vernon will do anything he can to take the best care of you.

dino

his heart drops when he finds out you got injured and didn’t tell him. chan thrives on helping and taking care of his loved ones, he doesn’t care if he has to pull another all nighter just to make someone else happy - he does it with great joy. so when his partner, the apple of his eye, hides their injury from him? it hurts. it hurts deeply. there’s a part of him that feels betrayed, and he cannot help but think if you don’t trust him enough to care for you when you’re in need. chan knows that those thoughts and his reaction are a bit dramatic, but it’s the caretaker in him that just cannot live it down. 

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[coldfanbou]

Showtime

In the end, I went with Giselle this week. Also, this is kinda what I meant in the author's notes of the last Eunha fic when I said making a little AU around this building. Anyway enjoy Giselle.

Giselle X Mreader

Length 4K

Aeri clutched at her knees, tears rolling down her face as the video continued playing inches from her, replaying whenever it finished. Her friend had sent her a video of her boyfriend with some woman, a health girl, they called them. She felt devasted at the betrayal, her heart aching because of the video, unable to comprehend how the person she loved could do this to her. 

Hearing the front doorknob jiggle, Aeri was on the verge of tears. She heard the door open and held herself tightly as the bedroom door opened, but it wasn’t her boyfriend there. It was her friend Jimin. The older woman rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Aeri. “It’s okay, Aeri.” Aeri slowly returned the hug, crying as she buried her face into Jimin’s shoulder. “I know, I know.” Jimin felt her friend's grip tighten around her waist. She held the younger woman close to her, letting Aeri pour her soul out to her.  “Do you want to grab some stuff and stay with me?” Jimin asks, patting her friend's head. She felt Aeri nod and slowly let her go. Aeri felt a wave of relief when Jimin offered her a place to stay. “Alright, let's pack some stuff up for you and go to my place.” The pair looked through Aeri’s drawers, packing some clothes and necessities before leaving the apartment.

The drive to Jimin’s home was quiet, and Aeri was in no mood to speak. Once they had arrived and were inside, the older woman spent her time pampering Aeri. She made Aeri a warm cup of tea and brought out her favorite blanket, all in an effort to make her feel better. The familiar warmth of Jimin's home enveloped Aeri. It wasn’t the first time Jimin had helped Aeri through heartbreak, but it was the first time that she had been cheated on. It hurt her more than any other; Aeri was motionless, holding the warm teacup in her hands and staring at the concoction.

“You know you can talk to me, Aeri,” Jimin said, finally sitting beside her friend.

“It hurts.” She whispered, her grip on the cup becoming tighter as she went through her relationship, trying to find where things went wrong. 

“I know, Aeri. I know.” Jimin glances at her phone as she pats Aeri’s back. She gets a message from Yizhuo and Minjeong saying they are on their way. The room is soon filled with her friends, who surround the heartbroken woman and comfort her. 

Yizhuo showed her support through anger, her protective instincts kicking in as she threatened to beat the man, while Minjeong tried to lighten the mood with jokes. The chaotic mix of energy from the two women trying to speak over one another was enough to make Aeri crack a smile. Seeing her smile calmed them down for the moment, allowing Aeri to gather the strength to explain what she saw. The women shook their heads, their protective anger simmering beneath the surface, annoyed that her boyfriend would do something like that to her. 

As they continued to comfort Aeri, Yizhuo's mind began to work. She wanted Aeri to get back at her boyfriend and show him up. When Aeri played the video for the others to see what he had done, she refocused on the surrounding details. She remembered all the details she could, from it being obviously on the ground floor, the neon lights that gave the video a pink glow, to a name written overhead. The friends stayed over for the night, and when everyone else had gone to sleep, Yizhuo pulled up her phone and began searching, finding the place, Tinker Bell. She snuck out of the house, heading over to the redlight district, heading directly for the building. Yizhuo was slightly shocked at its size, as it took up the entire block and was several stories tall. It was an exact match, though. Heading inside, Yizhuo walked down the long corridor, finding a lobby at the end. 

The staff working behind the counter was stunned as an angry Yizhuo turned to him. “C-can I help you?”

“Are you hiring?” She asked without hesitation.

“I, um, yes.” The man said, gulping. “We’re always hiring.” 

“Okay, good. Now, what would it take to be put in one of the rooms on the street?”

The staff was a little more than confused by the situation but tried his best to answer. “Most of the ladies in the front have submitted request forms. We would like to have more experienced workers there, but if you want a spot that badly, I’m sure we can work something out. We have a lot of ladies who want those spots to build up their customer base.”

“Oh, it’s not for me. A friend of mine wants to work here. Here,” Yizhuo how said, pulling out a picture of Aeri. “She’s a little nervous about asking, but she’d be able to get one of those street positions on her first night, right?”

“I, um, we’d need to talk to her. I’m afraid I can’t speak to people who aren’t the workers themselves about this.”

Yizhuo leaned on the desk, her eyes turning soft. “She’s just a real shy girl. It would be really hard for her to ask. That’s why I’m here. Look, you seem like a really good guy,” Yizhuo stood back, walking around the table. “You also look like someone who hasn’t gotten to have any action lately. I’m sure we can help each other out, right? I’ll get my friend to come here and apply in a few days; you give her a room on the street so she can build up a lot of clients and as thanks. I’ll use my mouth to take some stress off you.” Yizhuo pressed a hand on the staff’s chest, reaching into her purse to pull some lipstick out of her bag. “Wouldn’t you like to ruin my pretty face?” She asked, applying a deep shade of red. “I’ll even let you cum on me, or I’ll drink it, your call.” 

Reaching down, Yizhuo felt the man’s growing bulge, “Please?” She asked, batting her eyes and pouting.

“O-okay,” the man responded. 

“Thank you so much for this,” Yizhuo said, kneeling behind the table and pulling out the man’s cock, stroking it slowly. She raised his cock, planting slow kisses along the shaft, leaving a trail of red lip marks on it as she reached the tip. “Relax and enjoy,” Yizhuo spread her lips apart, swallowing the head and forming a seal around his cock as she bobbed her head. The man groaned, Yizhuo’s tongue lashing at his cock. He placed a hand on her head, pushing her head to take more. Yizhuo rolled her eyes, knowing the man was going to force himself to an early orgasm. Still, she let him have control; she was held against his crotch, his cock hitting the back of her throat. She could feel his cock throb and saw as his legs began to shake. 

“Please drink my cum,” He groaned, his cum spewing into Yizhuo's mouth. She filled her mouth with his cum. After he pulled out, she opened her mouth to show she had it all and then drank it, showing him a clean mouth afterward. Knowing it was something a guy like him would like. 

“So we have a deal?” Yizhuo asked, a drop of saliva running down from the corner of her mouth.

“Yes, I’ll make sure your friend gets a room in the front.” He said, out of breath. Yizhuo smiled at him and rose slowly, kissing him on the cheek before walking out of the building and returning to Jimin’s home. 

She hadn’t expected Aeri to be up and waiting in the living room. “Where were you?”

Yizhuo considered her options before deciding to come clean to Aeri and tell her the plan. “Aeri, that dirtbag of a boyfriend slept with some other woman while you were probably waiting for him at home. I think it’s only fair that you get to have your own fun at his cost. I went out to the place he was at in the video.” Yizhuo decided to come out strong, trying to rouse anger from the Japanese woman. “I asked if they were hiring. I think you should get back at him and show him you don’t need him.”

“Yizhuo…”

“I know, Aeri, but think about it. He deserves it for what he did. He probably thinks he can go out and fuck other girls and still come back to you. You can’t let that happen, and what better way than getting a job there so you can show him you don’t need him.”

Aeri considered Yizhuo’s words; a growing sense of frustration was inside her. It might’ve been her emotions blinding her, but Aeri felt that Yizhuo had a point. “You’re right.”

Yizhuo was shocked that Aeri would side with her so easily but didn’t show it. “Okay, let’s go down there tomorrow to get you all signed up. You said before how he had begun coming home late every night. He’s probably going to go back there again, so he’ll get to see you not needing him, and he can just fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Aeri said with a little more confidence. She wiped her eyes and smirked, “I’m going to show him I don’t need him.”

“That’s the spirit.” 

Without telling Jimin or Minjeong their plan, the pair headed together to Tinker Bell in the evening. Approaching the building, Aeri felt some nerves building up, but with Yizhuo by her side, she pushed onward, heading inside the building. They stopped at the front desk, “I’m back and with my friend this time.” Yizhuo announced.

“Very good,” the man said, pulling out some forms. “Please fill these out, and you can begin soon enough.” Together, they filled out their own set of forms. Yizhuo didn’t want to leave Aeri completely alone, so she applied with her. 

“Stage name?” Aeri said, looking at the form.

“Yeah, we don’t want people to know our information.” Aeri nodded and considered the name she would use. “I’m not going to put too much thought into it. I’m going to go with Ningning.”

“I think I’ll use the name Giselle. It sounds pretty.” Yizhuo chuckled and smiled at Aeri.

“Alright, Giselle,” Yizhuo said in a slightly mocking tone. Once the forms were finished, Yizhuo stood up and handed hers in. Aeri followed suit and handed hers in. “Okay, Giselle, let's get dressed and ready to start. Be safe out there.”

“You too, Ningning.”

“We have a process to go through, ladies. Please follow me.” The staff member walked from behind the desk and led them down a spiral staircase down one floor. “We’re heading to the dressing room; considering this is mid-shift, we’ll have to introduce you to the other girls later.” The dressing room was large, similar to a locker room, with each woman having their own space for storage. The three walked to the end of the room, where the man pointed out the lockers Ningning and Giselle would use. “You’ll have to try on some of the outfits we have on hand for your shift today, but you’re welcome to bring something of your own as well. The company will reimburse you the cost, but once you bring something here, it is for work only?”  The women nodded, “Good, I’ll wait for you two outside. Please choose your outfit for today.” With that, the man left, leaving Giselle and Ningning alone with a closet full of clothes at their disposal. 

They spent some time looking through the clothes, with Ningning deciding on a matching set of lacy pink underwear and high heels. “Giselle, I found just the thing for you.” Giselle turned to see Ningning holding a sheer white bra and panty in one hand and a garter belt and stocking of the same color in the other. “You’ll look so good in this; try it on.” Giselle hesitated but tried on the clothes Ningning recommended. The younger woman clapped and yelled her support, loving how the clothes clung to Giselle’s body, pushing her breasts together and showing off her wide hips. “They’re going to love you out there.” Ningning said, holding onto Giselle’s hands. “Come on, let's go.” The women headed outside, where they met with the staff member. 

“Wonderful; we’re running late, though, so let's take your picture, " he said, not giving them another second of attention. He led them to a room a few doors down, taking their headshots against a white background. “I’ll upload these and get them on the lobby board. Let’s get you to your rooms,” he said, rushing them back to the ground floor. They moved toward the front of the building, stopping at Ningning’s room for the night. “Ningning, this is going to be your room. Please make yourself comfortable.” He said before leaving the room. 

Ningning waved to her friend, “I’ll see you at the end!” She shouted to Giselle before closing the door to her room. The staff member led Giselle further to the front, turning around to face her and opening the door to her room. 

“Good luck tonight; I hope you get many customers. In these rooms, you can attract more attention to yourself by dancing, and don’t forget that if you want more privacy, there is a screen you can lower. Press the red button to drop it and the green to raise it. Most women keep it raised to attract more attention. What else was there…oh you’ll hear a chime when you have a customer on the way. Anyway, good look, I have to give your friend the run down.” With that, the man closed the door, leaving Giselle alone; she turned around and looked at the screen; it was the only thing keeping people on the streets from seeing her. Giselle took a deep breath and looked around the room. It was relatively small, with a twin-sized bed and nightstand on one side of the room and a desk with a chair on the other. She noted that there was still enough space to walk around the room comfortably and headed toward the buttons. She raised her hand to it, hesitating before finally pressing the button and watching the screen rise. 

Surprisingly enough for Giselle, a few people were waiting on the other side. She waved to them. She couldn’t help but blush as she saw all eyes on her. She looked to the ground, rubbing a foot into the floor before looking back up and waving to the group again. Giselle turned around, grabbed the desk chair, and placed it in front of the group, sitting with her legs crossed. She felt awkward and didn’t know what to do; she considered dancing but felt embarrassed. 

After a minute of sitting down, Giselle stood up, wracking her brain for things to attract a customer. She bent over, giving the crowd a look at her cleavage before standing up and adjusting her bra, giving the men outside a peek at her breasts before covering up.

You were outside watching her. You knew she was a new worker, and you had visited Tinker Bell a few times but didn’t recognize her. Something told you, though, that she just needed a slight push to get started. You head inside the building and head to the board, paying for an hour's session before looking for the woman. You spot her, Giselle. Pressing her button, you turn around, take the keycard from the staff member, and head to your room.

You tap the keycard and open the door. Giselle has her hands in balls but bows as you enter. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Giselle.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Giselle. Let’s have some fun tonight.”

She gives you a nod, “Yeah, let’s have some fun.”

You walk up to the young woman, sliding your hand down her smooth back until you reach her ass, giving it a light tap. You feel her shudder. Giselle stares up at you, wondering what your next move will be; she feels vulnerable. It’s the first time she’s going to have sex with another man, and she doesn’t know what to do in this situation. You can see as much; she was like a deer caught in headlights. She slowly wrapped her arms around your neck, breathing quickening as your hands shifted to her waist. “I’ll be in charge tonight.”

“Y-yes, sir.” You press your lips against Giselle’s, kissing her forcefully as your grip on her waist tightens and you dig into her flesh. Giselle stifles her moan, leaning back and keeping her hold on you. You lean back, breaking the kiss and staring at the young woman before letting go of her. “Sir?”

“Hold on, Giselle, there’s something here to help get us in the mood.” You tell her as you walk over to the desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle of oil. “Help me out of my clothes.” You command; Giselle rushes over to you, helping you out of your clothes in a rush. You keep on your underwear, letting Giselle stare at your bulge with intrigue. You turn Giselle around, letting her look at the growing crowd as you unlatch her bra. Giselle catches it, holding it to her chest, but once given the order to let it go, she does. Pursing her lips, Giselle looks to the ground, not daring to look at the crowd as they grow more excited. While she’s in her head, you grab open the oil bottle and pour some onto your hands, snaking them under Giselle’s arms before squeezing her bare breasts. She’s shocked back to reality, your hands teasing her nipple as you make her breasts slick. Giselle leans against you, her voice filling the room as she moans. 

She holds her hands over yours as you massage the oil into her skin. Giselle feels her body begin to heat up and bites her lip. The oil moves down her body, soaking her sheer panties and practically revealing her most private area to everyone. You grab the oil bottle and pour half onto Giselle, massaging it into every part of her body. Moving closer to the window, you snake your hands down under her panties and toy with her slit, running your fingers between her wet folds. Giselle’s moans grow louder as you move upward and pinch her clit, her legs tremble, and she presses her hands against the window, leaning on it for support. Giselle’s mind begins to grow hazy, lust overtaking her body.

You rub against Giselle’s ass, forcing her mind to your cock. “Sir…” She groans, returning the favor and grinding against you.

“Yes?”

“I-you can put it in whenever you’d like.” Giselle moans, submitting to you. You push a finger inside Giselle before adding another. Her walls squeeze your fingers as you pump them in and out of the young woman. 

“I’ll decide when. I want you to look out into the crowd and smile.” Giselle nods, staring out the window and making eye contact with all the men outside, smiling at them as you make her cum. Her walls clamp down on your fingers while you continue to move them, “You’re going to have to build up more endurance if you’re going to work here, Giselle.” 

You pull out your fingers slowly and reach around, pushing them into her mouth and hooking the corner. You feel her tongue move up and down your fingers and smile. Though you can’t see her face, you know she’s in heaven right now. 

You pull down your underwear with your other hand and grab your cock, placing it between her thighs and thrusting. “Ah, sir,” She groans, feeling the hot piece of flesh slide between her slick thighs. 

“I know you want it, Giselle.”

“Please,” She whimpers, moving her hips. “I want it inside now.” You smirk and adjust Giselle’s panties, pressing your cock against her entrance. “Yes, please! Take me, sir.”

You thrust, burying yourself inside Giselle with one swift movement; you press your body against Giselle’s, forcing her to the window, her tits gliding across the glass as you begin thrusting. Giselle’s moans flood the room again; it was music to your ears. You grab her arms and pull them back as you continue thrusting, but keep her upper body pressed against the glass. Her walls tighten around your cock, holding you snuggly as you make sure every inch goes inside. 

Giselle stared out the window, finding a growing sense of enjoyment from being watched by strangers. She smiled at them, showing them just how much she loved being fucked. She felt her hard nipples slide along the glass, bringing her more pleasure as she focused her body around your cock. Then she saw him, her boyfriend or ex, at this point was watching her get fucked by some man. She smiled at him, letting him know he meant nothing to her. 

“Kiss me, sir, kiss me.” She moaned. Her request surprised you, but you gave her what she wanted. You turned Giselle’s head and kissed her, slipping your tongue into her mouth. Giselle eyed her ex, watching his face drop as he watched you take Giselle. “Thank you, sir.”

You let pull back from the kiss and let go of Giselle’s arms moving one hand to her tit and the other to her clit. You play with both, pushing Giselle toward her second orgasm. You move your fingers in small circles around her clit as you thrust, making her cunt tighten around you. Her large breasts filled your hands as you gave them rough squeezes. Giselle gritted her teeth as she felt a tightness in her core; she warned you of her coming climax and screamed as you made her cum. You made Giselle squirt, her slick spraying onto the window as you played with her body. 

Pulling out of Giselle, you watched her drop to her knees. “I didn’t get to cum yet, Giselle. You’ll have to use your mouth.”

“Yes, sir.” She groaned, reaching for your cock and stroking it slowly. Giselle got closer to your cock, giving her boyfriend, who was still watching, a wink before wrapping her lips around your shaft and bobbing her head. You listened to her moan as she sucked your cock. Reveling in the feeling of her tired tongue moving around your shaft, you pat Giselle’s head. 

“You’re going to be a good girl here, Giselle. You’ll just need a little bit of training.”

“Can you be my master?” She asked innocently, popping you out of her mouth and rubbing your saliva-covered cock against her face. “I like this cock; I want you to train me,” Giselle whispered before bobbing her head again. 

The idea of being the only one to touch her body for a long time excited you, but you knew it was better for her to learn how to please different people, so you lied to her. “I'll be your master.” Giselle smiles at you as she bobs her head, pushing you toward your climax. You place your hand on her head and begin thrusting into her mouth, telling her to relax her throat. Giselle follows along with little trouble, taking your cock down her throat. As you neared your climax, you pulled out, jerking yourself off and cumming on Giselle painting her tits and face with your cum. Once you were done, Giselle licked her lips and smiled. “Show everyone how pretty you are, Giselle,” you say, motioning to the window.

She follows your order without a second thought, standing up and giving the crowd a peace sign as they take pictures. Giselle glances at her ex, not caring about him anymore, as she bends herself over and offers herself up to you again. You slap her ass, making her moan before taking her again. 

After you were done with your time, you returned to the lobby, handing in your key and watching as it was immediately handed to someone else. You went outside and watched as Giselle began fucking another man. 

For her entire shift, Giselle did not have a moment to rest. The show she had put on made people line up for her, leaving the young woman covered in cum and sore from the experience. Ningning was left to wash the young woman after, asking how it went. Giselle responded that it went great and that the plan had worked.

[brunchable]

Winter King, Part Two : I Wish You Would. . .

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 18K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, Arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, Eventual Smut. Summary: The Kingdom's court is treacherous, and enemies lurk in the shadows, waiting to exploit any sign of weakness. Althought Y/N is determined to be a worthy queen of the crown, she find out that The King is as elusive as he is captivating. A/N: Inspired by Queen Charlotte. Also, if you like Sharon Carter, I'm sorry, someone needs to be an antagonist lmao. I hope I tagged everyone.

Tags: @theendofthematerialgworl @httpb3a @spiidergirlsworld @sebastians-love @stevesbbgorl

@targaryenhues @almosttoopizza @scott-loki-barnes @brckenmemories @vicmc624

The clinking of delicate china sounded in the sunroom, but the undercurrent of hostility was unmistakable. Sharon and Leah exchanged a glance, their eyes gleaming with something far more sinister than polite conversation. The warmth of the sun couldn’t reach you through the tension coiling around the table.

Sharon’s voice sliced through the moment, sweet but sharp, as though testing the blade before delivering the cut. “You know, Princess, there’s a rather fascinating story about His Majesty. It surprises me that no one has mentioned it to you yet.”

Your grip tightened on the teacup, but you kept a calm facade. Their words were like needles, pricking at your composure, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you uneasy.

“Oh?” you replied, your tone light, “Do enlighten me.”

Leah leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as though sharing a secret meant only for your ears. “Well, it’s said that he was quite... entangled with Lady Maria for some time. You know how close they were? Practically inseparable.” She shot you a look that made your stomach tighten. “Of course, that was before you.”

The name Lady Maria was familiar to you, but the way they spoke it—like a weapon—made it clear they intended to lodge it in your heart, to make you doubt.

“Oh, I see,” you said, carefully placing the teacup down, though you could feel the prickle of unease beneath your skin. “Is this the same Lady Maris who now resides in the countryside?” You smiled, a sharp edge to your words. “Quite the distance from the palace, wouldn’t you say?”

Leah’s smile faltered ever so slightly, but Sharon’s eyes glittered with cruel amusement as she picked up the thread of the conversation. “Distance means little when it comes to passion. And His Majesty isn’t the type to forget such things... so easily.”

The insinuation in her words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. You could feel your composure slipping, the words sinking into your chest like stones. 

You met Sharon’s gaze squarely, keeping your tone even. “I find that real passion leaves no room for doubt,” you said smoothly, “nor for ghosts of the past.”

Sharon’s lips curved into a smile, “Of course, but the past has a way of... lingering, doesn’t it? Men like His Majesty—they tend to crave excitement. And I imagine keeping his interest will be... challenging.”

The implication hit its mark, a knot of jealousy tightening in your chest. They wanted you to believe you couldn’t hold Jame’s attention—that you were nothing more than a placeholder for someone more exciting, someone like Lady Maria.

Your breath caught, but you forced yourself to smile, lifting your teacup as if you hadn’t just been struck by their words. “I find that security comes from understanding,” you said, “And I’m more interested in the present than the past.”

Leah chuckled softly, leaning in closer. “Oh, but the present can be just as... tricky. After all, there are so many... distractions in the palace. You haven’t known him for very long, have you? So much is still hidden.”

Her words felt like poison, seeping into your mind, whispering the doubts you had been trying so hard to push away. Do you really know him? Can you trust him?

But you refused to let them see you falter. You couldn’t. Not when they were so clearly enjoying the game.

“Everyone has their secrets,” you replied calmly, though the weight of those secrets pressed down on you. “But I’ve learned not to rely on gossip to understand someone.”

Sharon’s eyes gleamed, her smile growing. “But don’t you wonder? All those nights he slipped away. Who knows where he went? Or who he was meeting under the moonlight?”

Your heart clenched, the insinuation sharp as a dagger. You could feel the cold tendrils of doubt creeping into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts. Was James still slipping away at night? Was there more he wasn’t telling you?

But you couldn’t let them see that doubt. You had come too far to let their words unravel you.

“I’m sure there are many stories about Prince James,” you said, your voice remained calm, though each word felt heavier now. “But I trust what I know, not what others choose to speculate about.”

Leah’s smile was thin, but her eyes sparkled with triumph, as though she sensed she had struck a nerve. “We’ll see soon enough, won’t we? After all, the wedding is tomorrow. Then we’ll all know whether you can... keep up.”

The words lingered, a challenge woven into every syllable. They were waiting for you to fail, to prove that you weren’t strong enough for this world, for him.

Your pulse raced, the pressure of their words settling like a weight on your chest, but you refused to let it break you. Slowly, you set your teacup down with a soft clink, meeting Sharon’s gaze one last time.

“I’ve faced many tests in my life,” you said, your voice low, but firm. “And I’m still here. I think that says enough.”

The tension hung thick in the air, you rose from your seat, the finality in your movement punctuating the moment. You had given them no ground, no cracks to exploit, and their smiles, once sharp and mocking, now seemed to falter, ever so slightly.

But just as you turned to leave, Sharon’s voice—smooth and saccharine—floated after you, stopping you in your tracks.

“It’s admirable, really, that someone from... Zienna is so resilient. I suppose growing up in such a small, modest country must have prepared you for all sorts of challenges.”

You froze, your hand pausing on the back of the chair. The underlying disdain in her tone wasn’t lost on you. Zienna, your home, was renowned for its beauty, but in the grander scheme of royal politics, it was often dismissed as insignificant. You could feel the mockery laced in her words, as if she were implying that your upbringing had made you desperate to prove yourself.

Leah’s laughter was light, airy. “Oh yes, Sharon. I imagine life there must have been... quaint. So very different from here, don’t you think, Princess?”

You turned slowly, meeting both of their gazes, your own smile never wavering. 

“You’re right. Zienna is different,” you said softly, letting the pride in your voice fill the room. “It’s a place where strength is measured by character, not status. Where beauty is in the resilience of the people, not the grandeur of a palace.”

Your words silenced them, the smile slipping from Sharon’s face. Leah’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though she hadn’t expected you to turn their words around so effortlessly.

“And if growing up there has prepared me for anything,” you continued, your voice steel beneath the sweetness, “it’s how to recognize empty words and empty hearts.” You paused, letting the weight of your gaze linger on them. “Qualities I can spot a mile away.”

The sunroom felt colder now, your retort hanging in the air like a cloud. Sharon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t respond. Leah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her earlier smugness evaporating.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you said, a polite smile on your lips that didn’t reach your eyes, “I have preparations to attend to.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, leaving them behind. Each step you took away from the sunroom felt like a small victory, but even as you walked, their words echoed in your mind. The whispers of Lady Maria, the insinuations about James’s loyalty, the insults directed at your homeland—they lingered, swirling together into a storm of doubt.

As soon as you were out of sight, the carefully composed expression you had worn in the sunroom dissolved. Your lips pressed into a thin line, and with a sudden surge of frustration, you stomped away, your footsteps heavier. The garden path crunched beneath your shoes as you strode forward, the crisp air doing little to cool the heated emotions roiling inside you.

Your maids hurried behind you, their footsteps quick and uncertain as they struggled to keep pace. The sun was bright but dipped lower, casting long shadows over the carefully manicured hedges, but none of it registered in your mind. 

You stormed past the familiar stone wall—the very one you had once tried to climb, desperate for an escape from this life. A fleeting memory of that morning flashed in your mind, but you quickly whipped your attention forward, determined not to linger on what felt like another lifetime ago.

The sting of Sharon and Leah's words echoed in your thoughts, the insinuations they had dropped like poison slowly seeping through your veins. The worst part wasn’t their cruelty—it was the lingering doubt they left in their wake, the nagging feeling of inadequacy they had sown in your heart.

As you rounded the corner of the garden, you nearly collided with Captain Rogers. You froze for a moment, caught off guard by his presence. His tall frame blocked your path, and you looked up to meet the eyes of the man you had only seen from a distance—a legend in his own right, but unfamiliar to you until now.

“Princess,” his deep voice said, the faintest hint of surprise in his eyes. He stepped back, his posture respectful, but his gaze lingered on you, as if trying to piece together the storm that was painted across your face.

You drew in a breath. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the space, the strength behind his calm gaze only adding to the silent authority he carried. This was the first time he had seen you up close—really seen you—and you could feel his curiosity. His gaze was far too perceptive, as though he could sense the frustration crackling beneath your surface.

He didn’t move, his eyes scanning your face, taking in every detail—the tightness around your lips, the tension in your posture.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he said, his tone gentler now, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Is everything... all right?”

You hesitated. There was something in his voice—genuine concern, but also a strength, as though he was someone who wasn’t easily swayed by the petty games of court. The temptation to unload your frustration rose, but you bit it back, unwilling to show any weakness in front of someone you barely knew.

Behind you, faint whispers and barely contained giggles from the maids floated through the air.

“He’s even more handsome up close.”

“I heard he’s unmatched with the sword.”

“I wonder if the princess is the one who’s caught his eye.”

Their words blended together, stoking the embers of your growing frustration. You shot them a glance, and the group immediately fell silent, though the sparkle in their eyes remained, a few of them nudging each other playfully.

“Captain Rogers,” you repeated, forcing your attention back to him. His eyes flickered past you, noticing the commotion, but he merely smiled, almost as if he was used to the admiration.

"Apologies," he added with a subtle nod toward the flustered maids. "It seems I've become quite the spectacle." His lips quirked in a brief, amused smile before his gaze settled back on you, serious once again. "But that doesn't matter. Is everything truly all right, Princess?"

Your chest tightened. For a moment, the warmth in his eyes threatened to melt the wall you'd built, but you steeled yourself, unwilling to let anyone—especially James’s dear friend—see the cracks.

“Just taking some air,” you replied, attempting to sound indifferent, but your words wavered, betraying a hint of the emotional storm that raged inside you.

Captain Rogers didn’t move, his gaze softening. “It doesn’t seem like the air is doing much to help,” he observed quietly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The subtle warmth in his tone took you by surprise, pulling you from the haze of your own thoughts. It was the first time someone had spoken to you without a layer of formality, without some hidden agenda woven into their words. You weren’t sure if it was refreshing or irritating.

“Well,” you said, lifting your chin slightly, “hence why I’m going inside.”

He stepped aside then, giving you room to pass, but not before his gaze lingered on you one last time, as though he were trying to understand what had unsettled you so deeply. There was no judgment in his eyes—only curiosity.

You nodded curtly in thanks and strode past him, determined not to let him see the cracks in your composure. But even as you walked away, you could feel his presence behind you, as if he were still watching, trying to figure out the puzzle you hadn’t realized you’d become.

Your rest of your maids caught up as you reached the palace doors, their hurried whispers behind you barely registering. You walked past the towering columns and through the grand foyer, a figure appeared ahead of you—a palace staff member—your valet—his uniform crisp and formal. He looked as though he'd been searching for you, his eyes lighting up with relief the moment they landed on you.

“Ah! Princess,” he said, his voice polite but hurried, his slight bow both respectful and urgent. “I’ve been looking for you. Please, follow me—your fitting for the wedding dress is ready.”

You blinked, your frustrations from the sunroom now mixing with a new surge of nerves. The wedding dress fitting. Another reminder of how close the ceremony was—how close you were to stepping into a role you weren’t sure you were ready for. But there was no time to dwell on that now.

You nodded, giving a small, composed smile, though inside, your thoughts still raced. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Scott straightened and gestured down the hall, his steps brisk as you fell in behind him.

× × × ×

The fabric of the gown rustled as the maids adjusted the delicate lace at your sleeves, each stitch tightening like the invisible binds that held you in place. It wasn’t the dress constricting you—it was everything. The ceremony, the expectations… him.

James had become more of a shadow in your life than a man. You hadn’t seen him properly since that morning in the garden, where the flicker of connection between you felt like something precious, something fragile. Since then, you’d only glimpsed him—his tall figure at the coronation, his back turned to you, always just out of reach. And yet, the memory of his touch, the sparkle in his eyes as he teased you, lingered in your thoughts, whispering promises that felt as intangible as smoke.

But promises were thin when matched against the reality of your situation.

Your fingers fidgeted with the silk of your gown as another seamstress knelt at your feet, adjusting the hem. The fabric was exquisite, shimmering beneath the light, but it felt like a gilded cage. 

Lady Monica Rambeau circled you, her sharp eyes missing nothing, her presence as unyielding as the steel boning of your corset. She had been assigned to you since the engagement had been announced, her demeanor polite but impenetrable. No matter how hard you tried, you could not pierce the veil of formalities that cloaked her every word.

As Lady Rambeau came around the front of the gown, you cleared your throat, trying to keep your tone light, though the questions weighed heavily on your mind. “Lady Rambeau, I’ve noticed something.”

Her fingers stilled as she pinched a piece of fabric at your waist. “Hm?”

You hesitated, watching her closely. “The King… he always wears a glove on his left hand.”

Lady Rambeau didn’t flinch, but there was the slightest pause in her movements, the briefest tightening of her lips. You had been trained to notice such things.

“Yes, Princess,” she said, her tone smooth, but you caught the subtle shift in her expression. “Many royals have their eccentricities.”

You narrowed your eyes, not satisfied with her evasive response. “It seems more than just an eccentricity, doesn’t it?”

For the first time, Lady Rambeau’s gaze met yours directly, a flicker of something—was it pity?—in her eyes. “The prince prefers not to discuss such matters. It is... a personal choice.”

You straightened your back, feeling the frustration coil tighter inside you. You were about to marry him, and yet everyone seemed to know more about your future husband than you did. 

“A personal choice that no one seems willing to explain,” you countered, your voice sharp. “I’m about to marry him. Don’t I deserve to know the truth?”

There was a beat of silence before Lady Rambeau averted her gaze, focusing on the gown again. “Some truths, Princess, are best left for the prince to share himself.”

Her words landed heavily in the room, closing the conversation with an air of finality. You clenched your fists, feeling the fabric of your gown bunch beneath your fingers, the weight of everything pressing down on you like the tight bodice of this perfect, suffocating dress.

“Perhaps,” you muttered under your breath, “but a queen who knows nothing of her king is little more than a pawn.”

Lady Rambeau’s lips tightened again, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she straightened, her expression smoothing back into its usual calm, controlled mask. 

“The gown is perfect,” she said, her voice cool. “You will be the vision of a queen.”

You stared at her, your frustration simmering. 

“A vision,” you repeated softly, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at you wore a gown fit for a queen, but there was something hollow in her eyes. The truth was, you felt like an imposter in that mirror. How could you marry a man who remained an enigma, hidden behind secrets no one would speak of?

Lady Rambeau cleared her throat, sensing your thoughts. “Before we conclude, Princess, we must review the schedule for the day.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. Not yet, anyway. “Of course.”

Lady Rambeau reached for the small ledger on the table, flipping through the neatly written notes. “This afternoon, after we’ve finalized the details of your gown, there will be a brief... educational session.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Educational session?”

Her voice was smooth, unflappable. “Yes, Princess. It is customary for brides of your station to receive instruction on matters... related to the marriage bed.”

Heat rushed to your face, and the room suddenly felt stifling. “I—what kind of instruction?”

Lady Rambeau, as always, didn’t blink. “There will be materials provided. Diagrams, illustrations. You’ll be prepared for what is expected of you.”

The air in the room seemed to thicken, and you fought the urge to pull at the bodice of your gown. This wasn’t just a wedding—it was the beginning of something far more daunting, far more real. And you were expected to step into it without hesitation, without question.

Lady Rambeau seemed to sense your discomfort but pressed forward. “Afterward, there will be time for rest before your private dinner with His Majesty.”

Your pulse quickened. The first private moment with James since that morning in the garden. You hadn’t been alone with him since. You hadn’t seen him up close, hadn’t had the chance to ask the questions that had been building inside you.

“A private dinner?” you repeated, trying to shake the thoughts of the diagrams, of everything that seemed to loom on the horizon.

“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice unwavering. “It will be your final opportunity to speak with His Majesty before the ceremony tomorrow.”

You swallowed hard. Final opportunity. The phrase echoed in your mind like a warning. This was your last chance to confront him, to ask about the glove, about the rumors, about everything you had been kept in the dark about.

You nodded slowly. “I see.”

Lady Rambeau closed her ledger with a faint snap, offering a thin smile. “Everything is in place for tomorrow, Princess. You need only focus on your duties as queen.”

Duties. Expectations. Those were the words that seemed to follow you everywhere. But what about your fears? What about the truth? What about the man you were about to spend your life with?

You swallowed the frustration rising in your throat and nodded. “Very well.”

Lady Rambeau’s expression softened ever so slightly, perhaps sensing your internal turmoil. “Is there anything else, Princess?”

For a moment, the bitterness from the morning tea bubbled back to the surface, and you found yourself saying, “Actually, yes. Are there... any other ladies I can spend time with? The morning tea with Lady Sharon and Lady Leah left a rather bitter taste in my mouth.” 

Lady Rambeau’s lips twitched, the barest hint of amusement crossing her face before she masked it once more. “I see. I can certainly arrange for you to meet with a more agreeable company.”

A small sigh of relief escaped you. “Thank you. That would be much appreciated.”

With a nod, Lady Rambeau offered a brief, genuine smile. “Consider it done, Princess.”

× × × ×

You sat in an ornate chair, stiff and uncomfortable, while across from you, the Governess stood like a sentinel, her stern expression and ramrod-straight posture making the space feel even more intimidating.

Your eyes flickered nervously to the stack of leather-bound books on the table between you, each one larger and more foreboding than the last. Then there was the parchment—rolled up, but ominous in its stillness. There was something about the entire scene that made your skin crawl, as though you were not here for a lesson but being led into battle.

“Princess,” the governess began, her tone clipped and authoritative, “this session is essential to your role as the future queen and wife. It is vital that you understand the... expectations that will be placed upon you in the marriage bed.”

You found yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Your hands gripped the armrests, trying to hold on to a semblance of composure. But there was nothing composed about this moment, nothing regal about what was happening.

The governess pulled one of the books from the pile and flipped it open, revealing a diagram that made your stomach turn. The lines, the shapes—they were clinical, and yet, utterly mortifying. You felt heat rising in your face, and it took everything in you not to roll your eyes. The absurdity of the situation made you want to laugh, but you bit down on the impulse, hard.

“This,” the governess continued, her voice as sharp as her gaze, “is crucial knowledge for fulfilling your wifely duties. You must be prepared to consummate the marriage.”

You swallowed hard, shifting again, the lesson settling over you like an iron cloak. “I think I understand the general concept,” you muttered, trying to keep your tone light despite the tight knot of discomfort twisting in your gut.

She ignored your attempt at levity, her movements precise as she unfurled the parchment on the table. It revealed even more intricate—and mortifying—illustrations. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you stared at the detailed depictions, each one meticulously labeled as though this were a scientific experiment and not the intimate realities of your future.

You blinked, your heart pounding faster, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. This can’t be happening.

“Pay attention, Princess,” the governess said sharply, noticing your wandering gaze. “This knowledge is essential. You must understand your role—how to fulfill your responsibilities as a wife.”

Your patience snapped. You could no longer hold back the bubbling frustration. 

“My role?” you echoed, gesturing toward the diagrams with a wave of your hand. “You mean my role as a willing participant in this?”

The governess’ eyes narrowed, her back straightening further, if that were even possible. “Princess, this is not a matter to be taken lightly. The consummation of your marriage is not only expected, but required. You must take your duty seriously.”

A snort escaped you before you could stop it. The absurdity of it all—the coldness, the diagrams, the formality of something so intimate—was overwhelming. You hadn’t seen James in days, hadn’t even spoken more than a few proper words to him, and here you were, being lectured on consummation because it was a royal decree.

“I haven’t even had a proper conversation with the man,” you blurted out, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “How am I supposed to take this seriously?”

The governess’ gaze turned icy, her lips thinning into a disapproving line. “Princess,” she began, sounding a bit disappointed, “you may find this situation amusing, but let me remind you—this is no laughing matter. As queen, it is your duty to provide heirs. That cannot happen if you do not fulfill your responsibilities to His Majesty.”

The levity you had clung to vanished, replaced by something far darker, far more suffocating.

Heirs.

This wasn’t just about duty anymore. It wasn’t about vague responsibilities or distant expectations. This was real. This was your future—your life.

“So,” She cleared her throat noticing the change in your demeanor, “If you don’t want His Majesty to find a consort willing to provide him an heir, I suggest you listen and learn carefully.”

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. You tried to even out your breathing, but the panic clawing at your chest made it difficult to think, difficult to even breathe. You were no longer the girl standing in the garden, teased by a prince about escaping. You were a woman facing the stark reality of a role that felt far too large for you.

Your heart pounded in your ears as the governess’s cold, unrelenting gaze bored into you. She wasn’t just speaking of abstract duties or obligations. This was real, and you had no escape.

“I... I understand,” you whispered, though the words felt hollow. 

“Do you?” the governess asked, her tone softer now, but still cold with authority. “This is your reality, Princess. You cannot run from it. The marriage will be consummated. You will need to provide heirs. There is no escaping that.”

Each word she spoke settled into your bones, cold and unyielding. You had spent so much time avoiding this truth, brushing it aside as something distant. But now, with the weight of her gaze and the reality staring back at you from those diagrams, there was no avoiding it.

The laughter that had once bubbled in your throat turned bitter. There was no humor here. No escape.

Your hands clenched in your lap, gripping the fabric of your gown so tightly your knuckles turned white. You wanted to protest, to fight back against this fate being thrust upon you, but the enormity of it left you speechless. For the first time in days, you felt utterly powerless.

The governess, sensing your resignation, continued in her cold, measured tone. “I suggest you take these lessons more seriously from now on, Princess. This is not just about your future. It is about the future of the kingdom.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. There was nothing left to say.

You nodded, barely, the movement small and mechanical, as though you had been drained of all energy, all fight. Her words had pressed down on you, threatening to snuff out the last bit of spirit you had left.

And the worst part?

She was right.

There was no escaping this.

× × × ×

Lady Romanoff

The sound of clashing steel filled the training yard, the sharp ring of swords slicing through the afternoon air. Lady Natasha moved with deadly precision, her every strike calculated, her every parry effortless. The soldiers she sparred with were drenched in sweat, struggling to keep up with her, but she showed no mercy. Her red hair was tied back, a single loose strand framing her sharp, focused features.

"Lady Natasha!" A voice called out, breaking the rhythm of the duel.

She spun around, lowering her sword as a servant approached, bowing deeply before handing her a letter sealed with the royal crest. Her sharp eyes lingered on the seal for a moment before she waved her sparring partner off, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

Natasha turned away from the yard, stepping into the shade of the estate’s stone walls as she broke the seal. Her fingers traced over the words, the formal language of the letter at odds with the simple, direct life she preferred.

“To Lady Natasha Romanoff,

By order of His Majesty and the future Queen of Montelune, you are hereby invited to join the Princess Y/N’s court as a trusted advisor and protector…”

Her lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. Protector. She could handle that.

The wind stirred around her as she folded the letter, her eyes flickering toward the horizon where the palace loomed in the distance. She had been summoned. And when the future queen called, Natasha Romanoff never refused.

- - - -

Lady Maximoff

In the quiet of her private study, Lady Wanda Maximoff sat by a large, arched window overlooking the rolling hills that stretched far beyond her family's estate. The air smelled of herbs and candle wax, and the only sound was the faint crackle of the fire behind her. She was deep in thought, her hands idly weaving through the delicate threads of red magic that swirled around her fingertips, when a soft knock broke her focus.

A servant entered, bowing as he held out a letter sealed with the royal crest. Wanda's brows knit together as she dismissed the magic with a flick of her hand, taking the letter and gently breaking the seal.

The letter unfolded in her hands, the parchment crisp and formal, though the weight of its words pressed heavily on her chest.

“To Lady Wanda Maximoff,

By order of His Majesty and the future Queen of Montelune, you are invited to join Princess Y/N’s court, where your wisdom and unique abilities will be invaluable…”

She blinked, her eyes lingering on the phrase unique abilities. They were calling her for more than just her title. A sense of unease stirred in her chest, but also a flicker of something else—purpose.

She closed the letter carefully, her eyes drifting out of the window again. Her future was no longer here in the quiet, secluded halls of her family home. It was with the future queen. It was time to leave the shadows behind.

- - - -

Lady Potts

Lady Virginia Potts stood in the grand parlor of her estate, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over the polished wood floors. Her hands were busy organizing the mountain of correspondence scattered across the table, responding to various requests from lords and ladies who sought her counsel. Her estate was immaculate, a reflection of her meticulous nature.

A servant entered quietly, holding a single letter with a royal seal, far more significant than the others. Pepper paused, her hands stilling as she reached for the letter, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

Breaking the seal, she scanned the words with a practiced eye, though the gravity of the message slowed her reading.

“To Lady Virginia Potts,

By the request of His Majesty and the future Queen of Montelune, you are invited to join Princess Y/N’s court, where your knowledge and expertise in matters of statecraft will be essential…”

Pepper set the letter down, her fingers resting lightly on the parchment. It had been some time since she had involved herself with court politics, preferring the stability of her own estate and businesses. But this... this was a request she could not turn down.

The future queen needed her, and where there was a need for clarity and order, Pepper Potts would always step in.

She smoothed the letter, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. The court had no idea what they were in for.

× × × × 

The heavy oak doors creaked open as you were led into the private dining room, the faint rustle of your gown the only sound as the maid quietly withdrew behind you, leaving you in the stillness of the grand chamber. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a golden light over the room, and your eyes fell on him immediately.

King James stood by the large window, one hand resting on the frame, the other gloved hand at his side. He looked out over the sprawling grounds, the fading light of the evening casting a halo of gold through his hair, painting him in a soft, almost ethereal glow. You simply stood there, unable to speak. Unable to move. You hadn't seen him like this before—unburdened by the weight of ceremony or titles—and it stirred something deep within you.

Sensing your presence, he turned slowly, and the moment his eyes met yours, the air shifted. His smile bloomed—soft, adoring, and it lit up the space between you, as though you were the only person in the world.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice warm and intimate, yet restrained. There was a note of something unspoken there, something deeper. The way he looked at you—his blue eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face—made your heart stutter in your chest.

You offered him a small curtsy, your stomach fluttering as you lifted your gaze. “Your Majesty.”

"Please, to you I’m just James." James gestured to the long, elegantly set dining table. “Join me.”

You approached the table with grace, your pulse quickening as you took in the grand spread before you. The chairs were separated by a stretch of three empty seats, and despite the intimate setting, the distance felt like you're oceans apart. You hesitated for a moment but obeyed, sitting across from him at the far end.

He watched you, his smile not faltering, but his eyes grew thoughtful as you settled into your seat. “You look lovely,” he said quietly, his voice rich but gentle.

Your heart gave a little flutter, and despite the formality, you couldn’t help but feel warmth creep up your neck at his words. 

“Thank you,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a steadying breath. “You seem… deeply in thought,” you added, noting the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his gloved hand rested stiffly against the table.

He let out a quiet breath, his eyes lingering on yours as though he was trying to gauge your thoughts. 

“Perhaps,” he admitted with a small, almost shy smile. “It’s hard not to be when my future is sitting across from me.”

You look down with a smile, a shy reaction. But before you could let them settle too deeply, you cleared your throat, turning the conversation to lighter things. Questions formed quickly in your mind—trivial, unimportant things, but questions that would keep your heart from racing too fast, your thoughts from spiraling.

You gathered your courage, determined to make this dinner less formal and distant. There was so much you didn’t know about hum—about the man you were about to marry. So, before the weight of more serious questions settled over the evening, you decided to ask him about the smaller things. Things that would make him feel more human, less like the elusive king you were supposed to wed.

“Do you have a nickname?” you asked, breaking the silence with a playful tilt to your voice, hoping to ease the tension that had been lingering since the moment you entered the room.

James blinked, surprised by the question, then let out a soft chuckle. “A nickname? I didn’t expect that to be your first question.”

You smiled, “I have to start somewhere, don’t I?”

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Well, my mother used to call me Bucky when I was younger,” he said, his voice softer now. “But that name’s reserved for a select few.”

“Bucky,” you repeated, the name feeling strangely intimate on your lips. “And who are these ‘select few’?”

Bucky’s smile widened, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “People I trust. Mostly my closest friends.”

Your curiosity grew, and you seized the opportunity to dig a little deeper. “Speaking of which, who are your best friends? I feel like I should know the people who are important to you.”

“Steve—Captain Rogers, as you might know him. He’s been my best friend since we were boys. There’s also Sam—he’s got a sharp sense of humor and enjoys keeping me humble.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good group around you.” You couldn’t help but smile at the affection in his tone. 

Bucky nodded, his gaze growing warmer as he spoke of his friends. “Yeah, I’m lucky to have them.”

“And your horse? What’s his name?” You shifted in your seat, feeling a bit more comfortable now that the conversation had softened.

“His name’s Alpine.” He glanced at you with a grin, clearly surprised at your curiosity.

“Alpine?” you repeated, arching a brow.

“It suits him,” Bucky said with a shrug, though there was a twinkle of fondness in his eyes. “He’s stubborn, strong-willed… reminds me of someone.”

You laughed softly at that, feeling the weight of the room lift slightly. “I’d like to officially meet him sometime.”

Bucky’s smile lingered. The conversation had been easy, light, but the distance—both physical and emotional—still felt too vast. You wanted to ask more, to dig beneath the surface. But the space between you felt like a barrier, one you suddenly couldn’t bear any longer.

Without overthinking it, you set down your cutlery, stood, and lifted your plate from its place. Bucky’s eyes widened slightly in surprise as you walked around the table and sat beside him, taking the chair at his right.

Bucky watched you, clearly taken aback, but there was no disapproval in his gaze. If anything, he was amazed at how you seem to give no mind with tradition.

Bucky looked up at you, his lips curving into an intrigued smile.

“Sitting across from you felt… wrong,” you admitted softly. “There’s too much distance.”

Bucky’s eyes softened at your words, and though his expression remained composed, the way his body angled toward you—subtly, almost instinctively—revealed more than he probably intended.

You swallowed, heart pounding as you prepared yourself for the question you’d been avoiding all night. “There’s something I need to ask you, Your Majes—”

“James.”

“James. . .” You repeated his name.

Sitting next to him, the air seemed intimate, and the flicker of the candles on the table cast shadows that danced between your gazes. He was watching you—intensely, yet not in a way that was uncomfortable. There was something magnetic about the way he studied you, as if he was trying to figure you out, but not in the calculating manner you’d come to expect from others.

You swallowed, composing yourself. The words slipped from your lips before you had time to second guess them. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you... about Lady Hill.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t falter, but you noticed the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched ever so subtly. He turned slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

You hadn’t meant to sound so blunt, but the name had hung between you like a shadow since the ladies made sure the name stuck to you. The jealousy bubbling up inside you—the ache you refused to admit even to yourself—made it impossible to keep the question locked away.

“Lady Hill,” you continued, your voice quieter now, though no less steady. “I’ve heard... stories. About you and her.”

Bucky sighed softly, his eyes drifting momentarily to the flickering flames in the hearth before returning to you. “You’ve heard a lot, I’m sure.”

You pressed your lips together, not trusting yourself to speak. It was foolish, really—this feeling of jealousy. You barely knew him, yet the thought of him being close to someone else, someone before you, unsettled you in ways you couldn’t quite understand. Or, maybe you did, but you didn’t want to admit it.

Bucky turned his full attention to you now, his eyes softening, though his gaze held something more serious, something weighted with regret. “There was a time when Lady Hill and I were... close. But that time has long since passed.”

You exhaled softly, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully loosen. “And now?”

His gaze softened even further, as if he could see straight through your carefully composed exterior. “Now?” he echoed, his voice quieter, more intimate. “Now, I’m here with you, not her. And that should tell you everything.”

The words sent a flutter through your chest, though you tried to ignore it. There was something undeniable between you—a pull, a connection that went beyond formalities. Yet, you couldn’t let yourself get lost in it. Not yet.

“Yes, yes it does.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he studied your expression, taking in the slight tremble in your voice and the way you seemed to press your lips together, fighting to keep your emotions in check. He didn’t need you to say anything more to know what was going on in your head. He could see it, the doubt creeping into your mind.

He sighed softly, setting down his glass, the clink against the table louder than the quiet room. His gaze never left yours, though.

“Something’s wrong,” he said quietly, his voice laced with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. “You’re not just asking about Lady Hill. There’s something else. What is it?”

You blinked, taken aback by how perceptive he was. You hadn’t meant for him to see through the carefully built walls you had erected. But there he was, watching you with concern, as though he could sense something brewing inside you. Your pulse quickened as you struggled to keep your composure, to bury the jealousy that had crept up, uninvited, after hearing all those stories.

You looked away for a moment, trying to find the right words, to shake off the feeling that you weren’t enough—that maybe you never would be for a man like him. But Bucky wasn’t the type to let something like that slide.

“Y/N,” he said softly, leaning in just a little, as though closing the gap between you might help ease the distance in your heart. “Talk to me. Whatever you’ve heard... Whatever they’ve said, you can ask me. I’ll tell you the truth.”

Your breath hitched, his words wrapping around you like a lifeline you hadn’t realized you needed. Slowly, you turned back to face him.

“They...” You hesitated, biting your lip as you struggled to say it. “They said, you always sneak out late at night to see her.” The admission came out more quietly than you intended.

“Do you believe that?”

You swallowed hard, looking down at your hands as your fingers twisted the fabric of your gown. 

“I don’t want to believe it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But... they’re so convincing. And I—” Your breath hitched as the words caught in your throat, and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence.

“Who is ‘they,’ Y/N?”

“People in court. They... they—”

“Be specific,” Bucky interrupted, his voice low, a command wrapped in concern. His blue eyes darkened with a mixture of frustration and protectiveness. He wasn’t angry—no, this was something else. He needed to know who had put these thoughts in your head, who had made you doubt him.

Your mouth hung open, caught off guard by the force of his words. He wasn’t going to let this go. He wouldn’t just sit there and let these rumors fester. And now, you couldn’t stop wondering—what would he do if you said their names? What would happen if you told him it was Sharon and Leah who had whispered those poisonous words into your ears?

For a brief moment, the idea of saying their names lingered on your lips. But you hesitated. Would telling him only make things worse? Would it lead to a confrontation you weren’t ready for? What if he confronted them, and everything in court shifted?

His gaze remained locked on yours, unwavering, waiting.

“Y/N,” he said again, his voice softer now, “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter who said it,” you murmured finally, shaking your head before looking back at him.

He blinked, surprised by your words, by the mercy you had just shown—choosing not to name those who had tried to plant doubt between the two of you. Most people in the court would have been eager to point fingers, to seek revenge or justice. But not you.

It doesn’t matter who said it. Your words echoed in his mind, and he realized just how different you were from the others. You weren’t driven by spite or the need for retribution. And that stunned him, amazed him in a way he hadn’t expected.

A slow breath escaped him as he continued to watch you, the vulnerability in your eyes clear, yet there was a strength there, too. A strength in choosing to let go of the pettiness of court gossip, in refusing to let others’ words dictate your path.

God, you're unlike anyone I've ever known.

But even as that admiration filled him, Bucky knew one thing for certain: he would find out who had whispered those lies to you. He wouldn’t let this slide. Not for the sake of revenge, but because those people—whoever they were—had tried to tarnish what was growing between you and him. And that was something he couldn’t forgive so easily.

Still, he wouldn’t push you now. He wouldn’t force you to tell him. You had shown mercy, and he respected that. But he would find out in another way. Quietly. Without involving you any further.

“You’re right,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “They don’t matter.”

You nodded with a fleeting faint smile. Your eyes flicked to his gloved hand, the leather dark and smooth, always present, never explained. 

“The glove. . .” you trailed off hesitantly, “Why do you always wear it?”

Bucky’s gaze followed yours, landing on the glove that covered his left hand. His face shifted, the softness hardening into what seemed like pain, and you thought he might not answer.

He flexed his fingers beneath the glove, his jaw tightening. “It’s... not something I speak about often,” he admitted quietly, his voice rougher now. “But since you’ve asked, and since we’re to be... married, I’ll tell you.”

You held your breath, your heart pounding as you waited for him to continue.

Bucky turned his head slightly, the tension in his posture growing. “I was injured. A long time ago,” He paused, his eyes flicking to you, gauging your reaction. “The glove hides the... reminder.”

He was holding back, guarding himself. You could feel it, sense it in every strained breath he took. Whatever lay beneath that glove—whatever part of him he hadn’t revealed—it was something that still haunted him, something he wasn’t ready to share to its full extent.

“I’m... sorry,” you said quietly, the words feeling inadequate. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Bucky offered a small, strained smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s no need to apologize. It’s just a part of who I am now.”

“I see. You are very brave.”

His fingers twitched, aching to close the small space between you. But instead of reaching out, he curled them into his lap, trying to keep control. Because if he touched you now—if he let himself give in even for a second—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

But the fear... the fear that you wouldn’t want this—wouldn’t want him—kept him silent. For now.

“You surprise me, you know,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

You blinked, “I do?”

He nodded, his lips curving into a small, almost tender smile. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. You ask questions no one else dares to ask.”

“I want to get to know you. .” You said without missing a beat, “You gave me a choice at the garden—whether to run or stay while knowing who I was—I chose to stay.”

The warmth in Bucky's gaze sent a flutter through your chest, making it hard to think clearly. You could feel the weight of his stare on you, the way his eyes traced every curve of your face, every movement you made.

"I feel the same way," Bucky said, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the space between you. His eyes lingering on your lips before slowly moving to look into your eyes.

You felt a pull, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air. You smiled and straightened yourself, “Good, I’m glad we both ag—”

Before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face and captured you into a kiss. His touch electrifies every fiber of you, and you froze, your heart hammering in your chest.

It wasn't a tentative kiss, nor was it hesitant. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, gently nibbling on your bottom lip. He kissed you like he'd been dying to do it, like he'd been holding back for far too long, and now he couldn't help himself.

Your breath hitched, your mind going blank as you melted into him, your hand instinctively gripping the sleeve of his coat. The taste of him, the feel of his body so close to yours, was intoxicating.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His eyes searched yours, filled with an adoration you had never seen before, and it took everything in you to catch your breath.

“I've wanted to kiss you since that day but I had to let you go," Bucky whispered, his voice rough with need. 

His gaze was heavy, half-lidded with desire, and just as he was about to lean in to taste you again, a knock at the door cut through the moment, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy.

You jolted away from him, creating a hasty distance between you, while Bucky remained unusually calm, though his eyes still burned with the heat of the moment.

“Enter,” Bucky called out, his voice steady despite the tension lingering in the room.

The door creaked open, and Steve entered, his gaze flickering between you and Bucky before settling on his friend.

“Your Majesty, Are you ready to leave?” Steve asked, his tone casual, though you didn’t miss the brief glance he gave you.

“Oh,” Bucky muttered, his posture relaxing as he slid his hands into his coat pockets. “Is it that time already?”

You busied yourself, trying to smooth down your gown and regulate your breathing as you stood up, your heart hadn’t quite slowed.

Bucky stood slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he straightened his coat, a small, teasing smile curling at the corners of his lips. He took a step toward you, the warmth of his gaze made your heart flutter all over again.

He reached for your hand, taking it gently on his own, and brought it to his lips, his touch soft and reverent. The kiss he pressed to the back of your hand was tender, but the heat of his breath sent a shiver racing up your spine. When he pulled away, his fingers lingered, tracing the delicate skin of your knuckles.

“I enjoyed my time with you tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, and you could feel the sincerity in his words. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

He leaned in ever so slightly, his voice dropping even lower, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. “And Princess, don’t think about climbing any more walls,” His lips tugged into a smirk, “I won’t help you, if I find you.”

A soft laugh escaped you despite the warmth in your cheeks, and before you could respond, he stepped back, releasing your hand with a lingering touch.

Turning toward Steve, Bucky’s expression shifted back to his usual composed self. “Steve, walk her to her chambers, I’ll meet you outside.”

Steve nodded, stepping forward as Bucky offered you one last look, his gaze softening again. “Rest well, Y/N. For tomorrow I shall be yours, and you mine.”

And with that, he left the room, his presence like a shadow lingering even after the door closed behind him. You stood there, still reeling from the touch of his lips on your hand, from the quiet promise in his words, as Steve approached, clearing his throat gently to pull you from your thoughts.

“Shall we?” Steve asked, his voice calm as always, though there was a knowing edge to his expression, as if he had sensed more than he let on.

You nodded, your heart still racing, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as Steve offered you his arm. As you walked together toward your chambers, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had changed everything. And no matter how much you tried to calm your racing heart, the warmth of Bucky’s kiss stayed with you, long after you had bid him goodnight.

× × × ×

The heavy velvet drapes lining the walls absorbed much of the noise, leaving the soft echo of your footsteps the only sound that filled the space.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, “You’re quiet,” he said, his voice gentle, as though he didn’t want to intrude on whatever was lingering in your mind.

You gave a soft, tight-lipped smile, your heart still not quite calmed down after what had transpired with Bucky. 

“I find myself with much to contemplate,” you murmured, your voice carrying the weight of the evening. You stole a glance at Steve, who seemed to nod, understanding more than you expected him to.

“Bucky often has that effect upon people,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips, though his gaze remained forward.

The comment caught you off guard, and despite yourself, a soft laugh escaped. “Does he?” you asked, your tone teasing, but there was something in Steve’s smile that hinted he knew exactly what had happened between you and Bucky.

Steve chuckled, his voice a low rumble. “You’ve noticed by now, haven’t you?” He gave you a sidelong glance. “He is not an easy man to understand, I grant you that. But when he chooses to care for someone…” Steve’s voice faltered slightly, as though choosing his words with care, “…he does not do so in half measures.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the implication, but you didn’t respond. Instead, you kept walking, the candle lit hallway stretching out ahead of you, each flickering light casting long shadows on the stone floor.

Steve’s words hung in the air, and as you walked in silence for a moment, you couldn’t help but replay Bucky’s kiss in your mind—the way his lips had lingered on yours, the way his eyes had softened when he looked at you, the teasing warmth of his final words.

“Bucky’s lucky to have someone like you,” Steve said after a while, breaking the silence again. His tone was sincere, almost protective, and when you looked at him, you could see the loyalty in his eyes—not just to his friend, but to you as well.

The comment took you by surprise, and you blinked, unsure of what to say. “I’m lucky to have met him,” you replied softly, your voice carrying more weight than you had expected. It wasn’t just a formal response; it was the truth. In the short time you’d known Bucky, he had drawn something out of you—something deeper than you were prepared to admit.

Steve’s gaze softened, and his lips curved into a small, approving smile. “I’m glad you think so.”

As the walk continued, the palace walls seemed to narrow slightly, the corridor leading toward your chambers now dimly lit by only a few flickering torches. You could feel the end of the evening approaching, and with it, a certain reluctance to leave the comfortable quiet that had settled between you and Steve.

“Tell me, Captain,” you began hesitantly, “do you believe that His Majesty ever... doubts himself? Given the weight of the responsibilities he bears?”

Steve’s expression grew thoughtful, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. “He bears more than most could comprehend,” he said slowly. “But one thing I know with certainty—once his mind is set, whether it be upon a matter or a person,” his gaze flickered toward you meaningfully, “he does not question his resolve.”

As you approached the door to your chambers, Steve slowed, and you could feel the shift in the air, the end of the conversation nearing. He let go of your arm and turned to face you fully, his expression serious but kind.

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” he said simply, as if promising something far greater than just his presence. “If you need anything.”

“Thank you,” you replied, meaning it more than you could express.

He gave you a small nod, stepping back slightly as you reached for the door handle. “Goodnight, Princess.”

You paused, the door half-open, and gave him a warm smile before slipping inside. “Goodnight, Captain.”

As the door closed behind you and you backed against the door, your heart still racing, you realized that tomorrow your life will be changed drastically.

× × × ×

Captain Rogers descended the grand staircase, he adjusted the hilt of his sword, his gaze scanning the courtyard for Bucky.

The king was waiting by the fountain, leaning against his white stallion, Alpine, his silhouette almost ethereal under the silvery moonlight. 

“Ready to head out?” Bucky asked, his voice low and casual, as if they were merely discussing a routine ride instead of what lay ahead.

Steve mounted his own horse, the leather creaking softly beneath him as he settled into the saddle. He glanced at Bucky, then asked, “You kissed her, didn’t you?”

A smirk tugged at Bucky’s lips, but he didn’t turn to face Steve. “Wouldn’t you?” he replied smoothly.

Steve let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not going to answer that.”

A soft laugh escaped Bucky, the sound surprisingly light given the tension that clung to the night. They nudged their horses forward, the steady clop of hooves the only sound as they made their way along the moonlit path.

“You know,” Steve began, his gaze drifting to the silhouette of the palace behind them, “I have to wonder… Why do you want to be in Annecy tonight? Your wedding is tomorrow, Buck.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed slightly, and he let out a low, rueful chuckle. He flexed his left hand, the movement barely perceptible but unmistakable to Steve’s watchful eyes. 

“You know why,” he said softly.

Steve nodded, understanding flashing across his features. He knew Bucky’s struggle—the ghosts that haunted him, the weight he carried that went far beyond a king’s responsibilities. There was always a part of Bucky that seemed to be at war with himself, the part that made even the simplest things—like sharing the same roof with his own future wife—feel like an insurmountable task.

They rode in silence for a few more minutes, the steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves lulling them into a semblance of calm. But then, Bucky shifted in his saddle, his gaze flickering to Steve.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Bucky said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm. “I need you to show a little interest in the princess.”

Steve’s head snapped around, his eyes widening. “What?” He blinked, incredulous. “Have you gone mad? Are you trying to get my head chopped off by the Queen Dowager?”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a smile, but his eyes were serious. “It’s important, Steve.”

“No,” Steve said flatly, shaking his head. “I’m not doing that. It’ll cause a scandal. It’ll make you look like a fool and make me look even worse.”

“Oh, come on,” Bucky urged, his tone almost playful.

“No,” Steve repeated firmly, his jaw set. “Why? Why would I do that?”

“Because I need some gossip,” Bucky said with a grin, though his eyes held a hint of something deeper. “Just enough to keep people talking.”

Steve let out a begrudging laugh, shaking his head again. “That’s worse, Bucky. Do you know how bad that would look? I’ll look like I’m trying to swoop in and steal the queen. The court would eat us alive. And besides—” he narrowed his eyes at Bucky, his expression hardening, “you really want to make me look like that?”

“Just trust me on this,” Bucky insisted, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “I’ll have your back, like I always do. You know that.”

Steve held his gaze for a long moment, suspicion mingling with concern. Bucky had that look in his eyes—the one that said he was up to something, something he wasn’t sharing.

“What are you really up to, Bucky?” Steve asked quietly, his brow furrowing. “What’s this really about?”

Bucky hesitated, the playful glint in his eyes dimming. He looked away, his gaze turning distant. “I need to find out who’s making up stories about me.”

“So, you want to use me to flush out whoever it is?”

Bucky’s lips twisted into a rueful smile. “Something like that.”

“Bucky…” Steve’s voice held a warning edge. “You’re risking a lot by playing these games.”

“It’s not a game,” Bucky shot back quietly, his voice tight. “They’re trying to undermine her, and I can’t stand by and watch.”

Steve stared at him, a mix of disbelief and reluctant understanding on his face. “And you think feigning interest in the princess will make them reveal themselves?”

Bucky shrugged, his smile strained. “Jealousy’s a powerful thing. If I act indifferent, it might embolden them. If I get you to show some interest in her, they might think they have more of an opportunity to turn her against me. The more they reveal, the more I can do.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Bucky’s expression softened, the steel in his eyes giving way to a gentler determination. “I know. But I can’t let them manipulate her. I can sense that Y/N is strong, but she’s alone here. She needs to see I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even if she doesn’t understand it yet.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, his gaze searching Bucky’s face. “And what if it backfires? What if she thinks you’re encouraging me because you don’t care?”

“Then I’ll have to fix it.” Bucky’s voice was resolute, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll make her see. But first, I need to know who’s been feeding her lies.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped, a sigh escaping him. “You’re asking me to throw myself into the lion’s den.”

“Just for a little while,” Bucky said softly, his voice almost pleading. “Just until I get to the bottom of this.”

Steve shook his head, but a small, resigned smile tugged at his lips. “You owe me a lot for this, you know that?”

Bucky let out a quiet laugh, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “I know. I always do.”

They continued riding in silence, the moon casting long shadows along the path. Steve’s mind raced, weighing the risks and consequences, but beneath it all was a steady resolve.

“Fine,” he murmured after a long pause. “But don’t blame me if this blows up in your face.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Steve.” Bucky smiled, his expression grateful and laced with relief.

Steve nodded once, the resolve in his eyes mirroring Bucky’s. “Let’s hope this works. For her sake.”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered, his gaze turning distant as his thoughts drifted back to you. “For her sake.”

× × × ×

The morning of your wedding dawned with a soft golden light filtering through the tall windows of your chamber, bathing the room in its warmth. You sat in front of the grand vanity, your reflection staring back at you, almost unrecognizable in its regal splendor. The maids had been working tirelessly to prepare you, their hands deftly weaving your hair into an intricate style, fastening the delicate tiara onto your head—a symbol of the new life you were about to enter.

Your gown, a masterpiece of lace and silk, shimmered in the soft light, its heavy skirts spreading around you like a cascade of moonlight. The bodice fits you like a second skin, the embroidery of gold thread intertwining with pearls, adding to the weight you already felt in your chest. You could hear the faint noises of activity from the palace below, the preparations for the ceremony well underway.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Lady Rambeau entered, her usual composed expression softening slightly as her gaze settled on you. 

“Princess,” she said, bowing her head, “the carriage is being prepared. It will be time soon.”

You nodded, your hands clenching and unclenching in your lap. Your heart was a storm, the events of the past days swirling together with the impending reality of the ceremony. This is it, you thought. There was no more time for questions, no more time for doubts.

Lady Rambeau approached, sensing the nervousness in you. “You look every bit the queen,” she said quietly, offering a rare, almost motherly smile. “His Majesty will be pleased.”

You swallowed, your heart stuttering at the mention of Bucky. Bucky. How strange it felt to think of him as both the man you had kissed, the man whose touch had ignited something deep within you, and the king you were about to marry. The man who was still so much of a mystery to you, though the connection you felt with him was undeniable.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft, your mind too tangled with emotion to say more.

The doors of your chamber opened again, and in walked Captain Rogers, looking as composed and stoic as always, but when his gaze landed on you, he froze, his eyes widening with something akin to awe.

For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, and then his expression softened, his voice coming out quieter than usual. “Princess…” He cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over you once more. “You look... radiant.”

His compliment caught you off guard, and you felt a faint blush creep up your cheeks. “Thank you, Captain,” you murmured, unable to suppress a small smile. There was something endearing about seeing the usually composed Captain Rogers momentarily taken aback.

He gave you a small, respectful nod before regaining his usual composure. “It is time,” he said, though his voice was still tinged with admiration.

Lady Rambeau stepped back, allowing you space, and Captain Rogers extended his arm toward you. “Shall I escort you?”

You hesitated only a moment before placing your hand in his. His arm was strong and steady, a rock amidst the storm that churned within you.

Captain Rogers led you down the grand staircase and out to the courtyard where the carriage awaited. Its intricate design was fit for a royal wedding, adorned with fresh flowers and draped in soft velvet. The horses were restless, sensing the energy of the day, and the servants moved with ease, making final adjustments.

As you reached the bottom step, Captain Rogers assisted you into the carriage, his hand still steady as he helped you settle into the seat. Lady Rambeau followed behind, ensuring everything was in place before stepping aside.

Captain Rogers gave you one final look before closing the door. “You will be magnificent, Princess,” he said, his tone filled with quiet confidence. “And His Majesty will be waiting.”

You smiled softly, trying to calm the flurry of nerves that danced in your chest. “Thank you, Captain.”

With a nod, he stepped back, and the driver clicked his reins, the carriage lurching forward toward the abbey where your future awaited.

The ride was quiet, the only sounds were the clatter of hooves against the cobblestone streets and the soft rustling of your gown as you shifted. Through the windows, you caught glimpses of the city—banners flying high, people lining the streets to catch a glimpse of the royal procession. Their cheers and waves were a blur, but their excitement was palpable, filling the air with a sense of anticipation.

As the carriage approached the abbey, your heart began to race. The towering spires of the grand stone building loomed ahead, casting long shadows across the cobbled courtyard. The doors of the abbey were open, revealing the grand aisle that stretched toward the altar where Bucky would be waiting.

The carriage came to a slow halt, and you took a deep breath, steadying yourself as the door opened. Captain Rogers appeared once again, offering his hand to help you down.

“Are you ready, Princess?” he asked, his tone as steady as his hand.

You nodded, though your heart felt as if it were about to burst from your chest. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Captain Rogers smiled softly, and as you stepped out of the carriage, he guided you toward the abbey’s entrance. The distance between you and the altar felt both infinite and fleeting. The weight of your gown, the gaze of the crowd—it was all overwhelming, yet the thought of Bucky waiting for you at the end of the aisle gave you strength.

The inner doors of the abbey slowly creaked open, revealing the breathtaking sight before you. The soft sound of music swelled through the vast stone hall, a hauntingly beautiful melody echoing off the towering pillars. As you took your first step inside, delicate flower petals, pale pinks and whites, drifted down from the ceiling, falling like a gentle rain around you, each petal kissing the floor at your feet.

The entire kingdom seemed to be watching, every gaze fixed on you as you stood framed by the grand doorway. Your heart raced, each beat thundering in your chest as you took in the magnitude of the moment. The aisle stretched out long before you, lined with noblemen and women from across the kingdom, their eyes wide with anticipation. But none of them mattered.

Because at the end of the aisle, waiting by the altar, stood James.

His regal form was clad in the finest ceremonial attire, gold embroidery gleaming against the dark velvet of his tunic. He looked every bit the king he was, tall and powerful, but his gaze—his gaze was solely on you. As the flower petals fluttered down, his expression softened, his lips curving into the smallest, most tender smile. His blue eyes, usually so guarded, were filled with warmth, a quiet awe that sent a rush of emotion surging through you.

You inhaled deeply, gathering your strength. You were walking alone, without an arm to hold, without anyone to guide you. This moment was yours to face. And with each step you took, you felt the weight of the gown, the tiara on your head, the delicate lace of your veil—all of it settling over you like a mantle of responsibility and power.

The crowd whispered in reverent awe, but their voices seemed like distant echoes as you walked forward, the petals beneath your feet crinkling softly with every step. The aisle felt both endless and too short, time stretching and compressing. But you kept your head high, your gaze locked on James, the silent thread between you pulling you closer with every heartbeat.

As you drew nearer, you could see the way his eyes shimmered, as if he, too, felt the enormity of the moment. His posture was regal, composed, but there was something in his expression—something that told you he was as affected by this as you were.

With each step, the world around you faded. The grandeur of the abbey, the watching crowd, the petals—they all became background to the electric pull between you and James.

Finally, you reached the end of the aisle. Your breath hitched, heart pounding, as you came to stand before him. For a moment, everything else fell away. It was just you and him.

James’s hand extended toward you, his touch warm, his smile soft and full of something deeper than words. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re captivating.”

A flush crept up your neck, you were about to become his queen. You were about to take your place at his side—not just as a bride, but as his equal, his partner.

You gazed deeply into the most bewitching blue eyes, in the way his hand held yours so carefully, you knew that whatever doubts you had carried—about the kingdom, about him—they had no place here. Today, there was only you and Bucky, standing together at the threshold of something far greater than either of you could have imagined.

Bucky’s eyes never left yours, as if he were searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or some unspoken promise. His fingers, warm and steady, curled gently around yours, grounding you in the midst of your racing thoughts.

The officiant’s voice cut through the air, ceremonious and strong, pulling you back to the present, though Bucky’s gaze still tethered you in place.

“Today, we bear witness to the union of our King, James Buchanan Barnes the third and his chosen bride, Princess Y/N of Zienna, a bond that not only joins two hearts but solidifies the foundation upon which this kingdom shall flourish.”

The words washed over you, powerful yet distant, as if they belonged to someone else’s story. And as you stood there, facing Bucky, you realized that while this was the culmination of the court’s expectations and the kingdom’s future, it was also more than that.

It was about him.

And you.

Bucky’s thumb brushed lightly against the back of your hand, a small, intimate gesture that sent warmth flooding through you. You met his gaze, and in that moment, something shifted. The doubt, the fear that had haunted you for weeks, seemed to dissolve under the intensity of his silent promise.

“Princess Y/N,” the officiant’s voice drew you back, “do you take King James as your husband, to honor and stand by him for the good of this kingdom and for all the days of your life?”

Your heart stilled for a fraction of a second, and then, with a steady breath, you nodded.

“I do,” you said softly. It wasn’t just a vow to the kingdom or its expectations; it was a vow to Bucky, the man beneath the crown, the man you were beginning to see more clearly with every passing moment.

The officiant turned to Bucky. “And do you, Your Majesty, take Princess Y/N as your wife, to cherish, protect, and honor her, for the good of this kingdom and for all the days of your life?”

Bucky’s gaze never wavered. His voice, low and steady, seemed to echo through the hall, even though he spoke just for you. “I do.”

As the officiant began the final blessings, you barely heard the words. All that mattered was Bucky’s hand in yours, the gentle press of his thumb against your skin, the warmth of his presence. And in his eyes, you saw it clearly—this was not just duty for him either. There was something deeper, something neither of you had fully acknowledged yet, but it was there, undeniable and magnetic.

“By the power vested in me,” the officiant declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The abbey seemed to hold its breath. The world, once again, shrank to just the two of you.

Bucky took a slow step closer, his hand still entwined with yours. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again, something flickering in his expression—anticipation. He leaned down, his movements careful, as though savoring the moment, and pressed a kiss to your lips.

It wasn’t a ceremonial kiss. It wasn’t for show.

It was the kiss of a man who had been waiting, yearning for this moment. His lips were warm, his touch tender yet filled with a quiet passion that left your heart racing all over again. The crowd faded away once more, the applause distant and faint, as you melted into him, your hand tightening around his.

When Bucky pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re mine now,” he whispered softly, just for you. There was no arrogance in his voice, only a raw honesty that sent shivers down your spine.

“I am,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, but the words hung between you, carrying a promise that went far beyond this day.

Bucky’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes alight with something warm, something real. And as you both turned to face the crowd, ready to walk back down the aisle as husband and wife, you knew—whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever doubts or fears still lingered, you would face them together.

× × × × 

The grand hall was alive with music and laughter, the sounds of celebration echoing off the high ceilings. Glittering chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow across the room, illuminating the hundreds of guests who had gathered to celebrate the royal union. The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers and fine wine, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.

You stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of champagne in hand, watching as couples twirled in elegant dances, their gowns and suits a blur of color and movement. The weight of the tiara on your head reminded you of your new role, but it felt strangely lighter now, after the vows had been spoken, after the kiss that still lingered on your lips.

Across the room, Bucky stood among a group of nobles, listening to their conversation with polite attentiveness. But his gaze kept drifting back to you, his watchful eyes never leaving your figure for too long. There was a tension in the way he stood, a quiet possessiveness in the way he observed you, as if even from this distance, he wanted to be sure you were safe, that you were comfortable.

You could feel his gaze burning on you, and it sent a flutter through your chest. He hadn’t been far from your side all night, his presence a constant reassurance, a steady anchor amidst the whirlwind of festivities. And though you hadn’t had much time to speak since the ceremony, every glance, every brief touch of his hand against yours, felt like a promise that this night was only the beginning.

A soft voice at your side drew your attention back to the present. “Your Majesty.”

Lady Rambeau appeared at your elbow, her expression as composed as ever, through her eyes held a hint of warmth. “There are a few ladies I’d like you to meet,” she said, her tone formal but respectful.

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Of course.”

She gestured toward a small group of women approaching from the other side of the room. As they drew nearer, you recognized them from their noble houses, each of them a prominent figure in the kingdom. But there was something more about them—an air of confidence, of grace and power—that set them apart from the other courtiers.

“These are some of the finest ladies in court,” Lady Rambeau continued, her voice lowering slightly as they approached. “They will be valuable allies to you, my Queen.”

The first woman stepped forward, her striking red hair catching the light as she offered you a small, respectful curtsy. “Lady Natasha Romanoff, Your Majesty,” she introduced herself, her voice smooth and controlled, though her sharp eyes seemed to take in everything at once. “It is an honor to serve the queen.”

You smiled, feeling the weight of her words and the strength behind them. “The honor is mine, Lady Natasha. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

Next, a woman with dark, piercing eyes and an aura of quiet intensity stepped forward, offering a graceful curtsy. “Lady Wanda Maximoff,” she said, her voice soft but filled with a certain gravity. “If ever you have the need for my skills, my Queen, they are at your disposal.”

You nodded, sensing something deeper in her words, though you couldn’t quite place it. “Thank you, Lady Wanda. I appreciate your support.”

Finally, a woman with an air of calm authority and intelligence stepped forward, her blonde hair elegantly styled. She smiled warmly at you, her eyes twinkling with a quiet humor. “Lady Virginia Potts, Your Majesty. I oversee many of the palace affairs, so if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You returned her smile, feeling instantly at ease with her. “I will certainly keep that in mind, Lady Virginia. Thank you.”

Lady Rambeau stepped back slightly, allowing you to take in the moment, surrounded by these powerful women who had now become your allies. There was a sense of reassurance in their presence, a reminder that while this role may be daunting, you were not alone.

As you exchanged a few more pleasantries, you felt Bucky’s gaze on you once again, a protective and possessive energy that seemed to radiate from him even across the crowded hall. You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eyes from across the room.

He gave you a small, knowing smile, his eyes flicking toward Lady Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper as if to acknowledge their presence before returning to you. There was a promise in his gaze—a promise that he would always be watching over you, no matter where you were or who you were with.

You turned toward Natasha, who was observing the room with sharp, calculating eyes. "It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?" you asked, your voice soft but holding a hint of amusement. The grandeur of the evening, the weight of the crown on your head, the people all watching—it was overwhelming, and yet, there was a certain thrill in it.

Natasha’s lips tugged into a small smile, her gaze flicking back to you. “It is. But I imagine you’re used to holding your own.” 

“I’m learning quickly, I suppose.” You smiled back, appreciating the compliment. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Natasha replied smoothly. “You’ll find the court can be... an interesting place. But if you play your cards right, you’ll have allies in all the right places.” There was a sharpness to her words, a subtle warning about the political nature of the people around you. But beneath it, you could sense her offering her support—her expertise.

Pepper leaned in slightly, her tone warm and filled with humor. “What Natasha means is that while the court can be a bit of a battlefield, there’s no need to navigate it alone. The three of us, well,” she gave a small shrug, “we’ve had our fair share of skirmishes.”

Wanda nodded, her dark eyes studying you with quiet intensity. “The court is full of whispers and schemes. People will say anything to sway your favor.” Her voice was soft, but there was a firm resolve behind it. “But when you surround yourself with people who have your back, the noise becomes just that—noise.”

You took a sip of your champagne, letting their words sink in. It was comforting, in a way, to know that these women had been through the same games you were just beginning to experience. You had already seen the sharp edges of the court with Sharon and Leah—how they used rumors and backhanded comments to try to shake you. 

Pepper glanced at you, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “I’m sure you’ve already had a taste of how competitive some of the women can be.” She raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Sharon and Leah, I imagine?”

A soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you nodded. “You could say that. They’ve been… welcoming in their own way.”

“Welcoming. . .That’s one way to put it.” Wanda exchanged a glance with Natasha, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Don’t worry about them. They’re just... testing the waters. Seeing if you’re as strong as you look.” She paused, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have a feeling they’ll be disappointed.”

 “I certainly hope so.” You couldn’t help but grin at Natasha’s confidence in you.

Pepper leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping slightly, though there was still a playful edge to it. “If you ever need a little extra... assistance in handling those types, just let us know. We’ve got plenty of experience dealing with difficult people.”

Wanda’s gaze softened, sensing your internal struggle. “Don’t let them intimidate you. You are the queen now, and that holds power. But more importantly, you have us.” She gestured to the women around you. “We’ve all been through our own trials. We know what it’s like to navigate these treacherous waters.”

Natasha nodded in agreement, her voice quieter now, more sincere. “And we’ve made it through to the other side. You will too.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at their words. It wasn’t just the alliance they were offering—it was genuine friendship, the kind of support that went beyond titles and formalities.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice laced with gratitude. “I didn’t expect to find this kind of... connection here.”

Pepper placed a gentle hand on your arm, her expression kind. “We look out for each other. That’s how we survive.”

They exchanged glances, their shared smiles filled with a mixture of amusement and affection, and you felt a deep sense of belonging in their presence. It wasn’t just about surviving court anymore—it was about thriving.

Pepper gave a mock sigh, shaking her head with a smile. “Honestly, I’m surprised there hasn’t been any drama tonight. Though, with Sharon and Leah, it’s only a matter of time.”

Wanda chuckled softly. “Perhaps they’re waiting for the right moment. You know they love an audience.”

Just as the laughter between you and the ladies began to fade, a warm presence approached from behind, sending a shiver of awareness down your spine. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The subtle shift in the air, the quiet command of the space—Bucky.

You glanced over your shoulder, your heart giving an unbidden flutter as his deep blue eyes met yours. He wore that easy smile, the one that made it seem like he was perfectly comfortable with the world, though you knew there was more to it than that.

"Ladies," Bucky greeted smoothly, giving a small but respectful nod to Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important." His gaze lingered on you, a playful glint in his eyes.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Nothing you couldn’t improve upon, Your Majesty.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes flicking to each of them before settling back on you. “In that case, I wonder if I might steal my wife away for a dance?”

You could feel the amusement radiating from the women beside you, but it was Pepper who spoke first, her tone light and teasing. “By all means, Your Majesty. Just don’t keep her too long. We were just getting to the fun part.”

Wanda smirked, adding, “We wouldn’t want her to forget where her real loyalties lie.”

“I’ll do my best to have her back before you can miss her.” Bucky chuckled again, his hand extended toward you, palm up, his gaze softening as it locked onto yours.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through you as you placed your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours, firm yet gentle, and the simple touch sent a wave of anticipation through you.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised the ladies, though your attention was already fully on Bucky.

Bucky gently led you away from the group, to the dance floor, you felt the world begin to fade away, leaving only the two of you.

The music swelled around you, the soft notes of the waltz filling the air like a gentle breeze, but it was Bucky’s presence that consumed you. His hand was warm and sure at your waist, the other cradling your hand as he guided you effortlessly across the floor. His touch, the closeness, made your heart race with an unfamiliar but welcomed thrill.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and the corners of his mouth lifted into that boyish smile that always made your pulse quicken.

“You seem deep in thought, Y/N,” he teased lightly, his voice a soft rumble, the glint in his eyes mischievous.

“I was thinking,” you replied, feigning seriousness, “how lucky I am that you haven’t stepped on my gown yet.”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm, and without warning, he spun you, pulling you back to him with a flourish that made you gasp in surprise. You stumbled slightly, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you against his chest.

“I’d never let that happen,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You’re far too precious for me to misstep.”

Your laughter bubbled up, light and carefree, filling the space between you. It was strange how easy it was to laugh with him, how quickly he could disarm your nerves, making the weight of the evening feel like nothing.

As the music slowed, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your temple, the tender gesture sending a wave of warmth through you. His hand, still at your waist, slipped slightly lower, pulling you closer as he whispered, “I think you owe me a dance every day for the rest of our lives, don’t you think?”

You grinned up at him, your heart soaring. “Every day? I thought kings were supposed to be busy ruling kingdoms.”

Bucky’s eyes gleamed with affection, his lips brushing your forehead this time. “For you, I’ll always find the time.”

Before you could respond, he spun you again, your skirts flaring out around you as you twirled. You giggled, completely caught up in the moment, in him. When you came back to him, he caught you easily, his grip firm and strong, and you couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped you.

“There’s that laugh. You should smile more often. It suits you.” He smiled down at you, his gaze tender, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

Your cheeks flushed under his gaze, the butterflies in your stomach refusing to settle. His eyes held something deeper, something that made you feel as though you were the only two people in the room.

Without another word, he leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. Then, as if unable to resist, he placed another kiss on your cheek, then one at your jaw, and finally one just below your ear.

“James!” you gasped, though your laughter betrayed you as you squirmed in his arms, the playful affection catching you off guard.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “I can’t help myself. You look too alluring tonight.”

You couldn’t stop the blush that crept up your neck, but you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest for just a moment, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of his embrace. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that matched the sway of your bodies as you danced.

As the music slowed to a gentle hum, Bucky’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the soft skin there. He tilted your chin up, his eyes soft but filled with that same playful affection.

“Have I told you tonight how lucky I am to have you by my side?” His voice was a low whisper, meant just for you.

You smiled, feeling your heart swell. “No, this is the first.”

“I’ll make it a hundred before the night is over.” He grinned, his thumb gently tracing your jawline. 

Before you could reply, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss slow, tender, and full of unspoken promises. It wasn’t the hurried, stolen kiss from before—it was on purpose as if he were reminding you that despite all the eyes watching, this moment was just yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “I’ve been waiting all night to be with you.”

“And now you are,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips.

His lips brushed yours again in response, a feather-light touch that left you breathless. And as the music faded and the evening stretched on, the two of you swayed together, the rest of the world melting away in the warmth of his touch and the quiet, intimate moments you shared.

For the first time all night, you weren’t just the queen and her king. You were simply Bucky and Y/N—two souls bound by something far deeper than titles or crowns.

× × × × 

From your position on the dance floor with Bucky, you caught glimpses of the other guests enjoying the festivities, but it was Captain Rogers who caught your attention. He stood near the edge of the room, his eyes drifting—not to the crowds or the dancing couples—but to Lady Natasha.

For most of the evening, you had noticed him, his gaze lingering on her with a quiet, almost tentative intensity. Steve Rogers was many things—brave, honorable, and steadfast—but when it came to matters of the heart, it seemed he was not as confident. Natasha, for her part, appeared entirely unaware, laughing and speaking with Wanda and Pepper, graceful as always.

But then there was Sharon, standing not far from Steve, her eyes on him, watching his every move. You could see it in her posture, the subtle tilt of her head, the way her fingers gripped her glass—she thought his attention was on her. It wasn’t difficult to guess where this was heading, and the tension of it made your heart race for reasons entirely different from the dance.

Beside you, Bucky must have sensed your distraction, because he leaned down and murmured, “What’s caught your eye, my Queen?”

You smiled, tilting your head slightly toward Steve. “I think Captain Rogers is about to make a move.”

Bucky followed your gaze, his lips quirking into a knowing grin. “About time. He’s been staring at her like a lost puppy all night.”

You chuckled softly, watching as Steve squared his shoulders, his resolve clearly building as he took a deep breath and started toward Natasha. The room seemed to slow, the moment stretched out as he approached her, his expression carefully composed but with a hint of nervousness beneath the surface.

But just as Steve was a few steps away from Natasha, Sharon stepped forward, a bright smile lighting up her face, clearly under the impression that he was coming for her. She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm in what she must have thought was a gentle, flirtatious gesture.

“Captain Rogers,” Sharon greeted warmly, her voice lilting. “I was just wondering if—”

Steve, clearly caught off guard, blinked at her in confusion, his eyes flickering quickly from Sharon to Natasha, who had just turned and was watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow.

Sharon’s smile faltered slightly, but she pressed on, her tone hopeful. “Would you like to dance?”

Steve's gaze flickered toward Natasha, who stood not far from him, her expression composed but with that ever-present sharpness in her eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then his eyes caught sight of Sharon’s father, Lord Carter, watching the scene unfold from the corner of the room. The older man’s gaze was piercing, his posture stern and authoritative.

Steve hesitated, his throat tightening. He was well aware of the power Lord Carter wielded within the court, the weight of his opinion, and how much sway he held over many matters—both spoken and unspoken. His glance darted back to Sharon’s expectant expression, her eyes wide with anticipation.

For a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath. Steve’s jaw clenched, his shoulders rigid as he fought with himself internally. And then, as if a decision was made for him, he forced a smile and nodded. 

“Yes, of course.” he said simply, offering his hand.

Sharon’s face lit up with a brilliant smile, and she slipped her hand into his, her gaze flickering triumphantly to Natasha for just a fraction of a second. Lord Carter nodded approvingly from his spot, his face easing into a look of satisfaction.

But as Steve led Sharon to the dance floor, his eyes found Natasha one last time. The disappointment in her gaze, so well hidden behind her cool demeanor, pierced him deeper than any wound ever had.

Bucky’s hand remained steady on your waist as you moved together, his gaze focused on you. But your attention wavered, drawn back to where Steve and Sharon now stood together on the dance floor. The way Sharon’s lips curved into a self-satisfied smile made something coil unpleasantly in your chest.

You kept your expression serene, eyes trained on them with the same polite interest expected of a queen surveying her court. The facade was perfect—no one would guess that beneath the surface, your feelings toward Lady Carter were far from friendly.

“Everything alright?” Bucky’s low murmur brought your focus back to him. He was watching you, his eyes filled with curiosity. He hadn’t noticed the brief flicker of disapproval in your gaze, hadn’t caught the way your fingers tightened slightly against his shoulder.

You smiled up at him, soft and unassuming. “Of course,” you replied lightly, matching his steps with effortless grace. “I was simply observing our Captain. It’s not often we see him… in such a position.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted briefly over your shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No, it’s not,” he agreed, amusement lacing his tone. “Poor Steve, stuck dancing with Lady Carter when it’s clear his mind is elsewhere.”

Your smile grew a touch tighter, but you nodded, letting out a soft, almost indifferent laugh. “Yes, quite the predicament,” you mused, keeping your voice light and even.

You knew Bucky wasn’t probing further—he was simply sharing an observation, unaware of the way Sharon’s presence grated against you like nails on silk. And you intended to keep it that way.

He spun you gently, your skirts sweeping elegantly around you, and you caught sight of Sharon’s face once more. She was speaking animatedly, leaning just a bit too close to Steve, clearly basking in whatever illusion she’d spun for herself.

You looked away before Bucky could follow your line of sight, turning your gaze to meet his instead. 

“Do you think they make a good match?” you asked the question casually and laced with just the right amount of interest.

Bucky shrugged slightly, his grip on you unwavering as he guided you through another smooth turn. 

“Steve can decide for himself,” he replied, a neutral smile on his lips. “But it’s obvious where his heart lies.”

You hummed softly, nodding as if merely considering his words. “I suppose so,” you murmured, then shifted the topic with ease, guiding the conversation away from Steve and Sharon.

As Bucky’s attention shifted fully to your words, your expression remained the picture of calm. Yet inwardly, your gaze flickered back to the dance floor, watching as Sharon leaned in, whispering something into Steve’s ear.

Your smile didn’t falter, not even for a second. But the disdain simmering beneath it was a quiet, insistent thing, buried beneath layers of grace and composure. Sharon could have her little victory tonight—it didn’t matter.

Because you knew exactly where Steve’s gaze would turn when the music ended, and it wouldn’t be on the lady currently in his arms.

× × × × 

The carriage wheels creaked softly beneath you as they rolled over the gravel path, the only sound filling the heavy silence between you and Bucky. You sat across from each other, the space that had once felt warm now stretched and distant. Bucky’s gaze was fixed out the window, his profile bathed in the soft moonlight, but his expression was unreadable. You had tried to break the silence once or twice, but each attempt had fallen flat, met with a polite nod or a quiet murmur. The joy and excitement from the wedding already felt like a distant memory, replaced by the weight of unspoken words and something heavier that lingered between you. The estate loomed ahead, but instead of excitement, a growing unease settled deep within your chest.

The estate stretched out before you, magnificent and imposing. The manicured gardens glistened in the fading light, and the grandeur of the manor seemed to stretch endlessly, its windows glowing like embers. As the carriage halted, Bucky disembarked first, extending a hand toward you. His touch, though familiar, carried an unusual stiffness that unsettled you.

As you stepped down, you glanced at him, uncertainty swirling in your chest. "Where exactly are we?"

Bucky’s lips curved slightly, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. His gaze drifted to the manor. "Well, what do you think?"

You took in the estate’s breathtaking beauty, momentarily distracted by its splendor. "It’s magnificent. Who resides here?"

Bucky’s gaze softened as he turned back to you. "I had it refurbished just for you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, a warm flutter of surprise catching you off guard. "This is our home?" you asked, hope threading through your voice. "James..."

But Bucky’s expression faltered, his tone more measured. "It’s your home."

Confusion washed over you, your brow furrowing. "My home? What does that mean?"

"This is where you will live." Bucky’s eyes flickered briefly, avoiding yours.

A chill ran through you as his words sank in. "I’m not sure I follow," you said slowly, your voice laced with uncertainty. "If this is my house, then surely it is ours as well?"

Bucky’s face remained impassive, though his tone was distant. "Technically, St. Vincent’s Palace is our residence. But here, this is where you will stay."

Your pulse quickened. "And where will you stay?" you asked, feeling the weight of his reply before he even spoke.

Bucky’s jaw tightened slightly. "I have an estate in Annecy."

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. "So, you intend to live in Annecy?"

"Yes."

"And I’m to live here?"

"Yes."

Your chest tightened as you stared at him, disbelief clouding your thoughts. "But it’s our wedding night."

"It’s late," Bucky said, calmly, almost too calm. "You’ve been traveling. You should go inside, meet the staff, rest. You’ll need your strength for the coming days."

You shook your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, James. It’s our wedding night. We’ve just been married." Your voice dropped, your cheeks flushing slightly. "Aren’t we supposed to spend the night together? Is that not what married couples do?"

Bucky’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you asking me to perform my marital duties to you?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "I’m not asking anything," you replied, your voice wavering. "I just thought... Isn’t this the night we’re meant to spend together? My governess always said that’s how it’s done. . . That it’s important."

He let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders palpable. "Very well," he muttered, turning abruptly toward the entrance. "I’ll stay then."

"James!" you called, quickening your pace to follow him.

"I said I’ll stay," he repeated curtly, his strides long and deliberate. "Are you coming or not?"

The staff clapped politely as you entered the grand foyer together, but your mind was elsewhere, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

"James, slow down," you pleaded, your voice rising as you hurried after him. "I can’t keep up with you."

He came to a sudden halt, turning to face you, frustration etched into every line of his face. "You wanted me in the bedroom. Isn’t that what you were asking for?"

You froze at his words, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. "No."

His brow furrowed. "No?"

"Not if you’re going to act like this," you said, your voice trembling. "You’re upset. What have I done? If I’ve offended you in any way, I’m sorry—"

Bucky’s expression softened, but there was still tension in his stance, his left hand flexing. "You haven’t done anything wrong," he said quietly, though his voice carried the weight of something unspoken. "It’s just... I’m comfortable in Annecy."

Your heart clenched. "Then let’s go to Annecy together."

Bucky shook his head. "No. You’re staying here."

"Why?" you asked, searching his face for answers. "You don’t want me to go with you?"

"This is your home," he said firmly, his tone final.

You felt the distance between you grow with every word. "My home. . ."

"Yes."

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. "I see."

Bucky exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he nodded. "Good. Then everything is settled."

But nothing felt settled. Not at all. "No. No, it is not settled." you said, your voice cracking in utter confusion. One moment he couldn’t get his hands off you, this sudden change was too difficult to let go. "James, is this what our marriage will be? Us living separately?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice steady but detached.

"Why?" you whispered, tears threatening to well in your eyes.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I thought it would be... easier this way."

"For whom?" you asked, the pain in your voice evident. "For you? Or for me?"

Bucky’s patience frayed, his tone sharpening. "I’m not having this discussion with you."

You stepped closer, your voice pleading. "I just want to understand. Please, tell me why—"

"I don’t need to explain anything!" Bucky’s voice thundered, his frustration boiling over. "I’m the one who decides, and I have decided. Are you forgetting that I am your KING?!"

His words hit you like a physical blow, your heart shattering. You stepped back, your voice trembling as you dropped into a low curtsy. 

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," you said quietly, your head bowed in deference. "I thought you were just James."

Bucky’s expression fell, regret flickering across his face. He reached out for you, his voice softer now. "Y/N, please—"

But you pulled back, avoiding his touch. The guard you thought you’d lowered, the tentative trust you were building—everything slammed back up, a fortress around your heart. You were foolish enough to think you were getting to know him better.

 It was clear now how wrong you were.

"May I take my leave, Your Majesty? Or do you have more to say?" Your voice was brittle.

Bucky’s hand dropped to his side, a look of defeat crossing his features. "Y/N... you don’t understand, this is for the best."

You swallowed hard, forcing a brittle smile as you nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever you wish. I shall rest now. I wish you a safe trip to Annecy."

With that, you turned and walked away, the echo of your footsteps haunting the grand hall as you left him standing there, the distance between you stretching wider than ever.

Love always blew up in your face, shattering whatever good you’d dared to believe in. You were a fool to believe that it wouldn’t go south in the worst way this quickly.

Each step you took, you buried the yearning, the desperation to reach out and demand more from him—from what you could be together.

Instead, you rebuilt the walls. You raised the drawbridge.

And you vowed to tread carefully with your emotions when it comes to him.

[lidiasloca]

headcanons for azriel with witch reader?

azriel with witch reader

azriel x reader

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

It always felt like a curse more than a gift – being a witch. You were neglected by everyone, everywhere.

But not quite anymore.

Now the High Lord had asked you to join his court, to work for him. He had seen the usefulness in your magic. But that was not what made you stop hating being who you were. No – Rhys, no matter how good of a male he was, he was using you for your powers.

But Azriel – that mysterious shadowsinger – he liked you. He didn’t want your powers or to gain something from you. He just wanted you.

And that had been enough for you to give him a chance the night he asked you to join the Valkyrie training.

“I – well – Cassian and I thought it may be good for you to know how to defend yourself,” he said nervously, and you knew it was a poor excuse for you to get closer. And you also knew you couldn’t say no. You had grown to like him from a distance.

He happened to be a great teacher, just as he had been a good friend to you among the Inner Circle dinners and parties. As you suspected, he started trying to get closer to you during the trainings.

“Just so you know. I’ve never seen him like this. With anyone. Ever,” Cassian had told you one night as you sipped wine from the glass Azriel had just offered you before storming away.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, curious.

“He sees something in you – something he had never seen in anyone before.” At your silent answer, Cassian continued, “Someone worth fighting for.”

“Fighting for?” you repeated in question.

“I think fighting, for Azriel, is very similar to loving.”  

You looked away then, the sound of Cassian’s words still rumbling in your head.

Fighting is very similar to loving for you too. They had always walked together in your life. Never had love come to you easily, without obstacles. You had always blamed your curse for that. Being a witch turned eyes away every time you walked, talked, or breathed.

Your mind went to the shadowsinger. Did he too feel neglected by love? Did he too feel the need to fight to have an inch of someone else’s love, even if it was a battle against oneself?

So now you found yourself walking to him. He was isolated from the middle of the party, where friends danced and laughed.

“Hi,” you said, but he had already seen you coming, or at least his shadows had.

“Are you alright?” he asked with restrained worry. Had you been so distant he was now surprised that you merely spoke to him?

Maybe the hate you had for yourself really had gotten the worst of you.

“I am. Better than ever – even.” And it’s true. Finding him and Cassian and your newfound friends had cured a broken piece of you. And it all had been thanks to him.

His smile was genuine. He truly was happy to hear that. He truly was happy for making you happy.

“Thank you, Azriel.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “For what?”

“For everything. For being my friend.”

A blush crept up his cheeks, and some of his shadows ran to your arm, as if trying to distract you. A soft chuckle escaped your lips at that. The shadowsinger, flushed so easily.

“You’re welcome,” he coughed, trying to act nonchalant. “I like being your friend.”

You beamed, fighting off a laugh for how easily your next words made him even redder. “Do you?”

He coughed again nervously as his shadows danced frantically from right to left. You did something you never though you would. You used your magic in front of Azriel – you created a copy of his shadows, yours appearing lighter, like clouds. You found yourself smiling as these danced with his.

He was lost in the scene as you were, but then, he looked down at you with incredulous eyes. You didn’t flinch – didn’t stop your magic as you would have with someone else.

“That’s amazing,” he breathed.

You smiled shyly at him; now you were the one flustered.

“What else can you do?” he asked, and the wonder in his voice, as if your magic was the best thing he had seen – it healed you wholly. 

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

a/n: more of a short fic, rather than headcanons. hope you like this nonetheless anon. and sorry for taking so long, i really didn't know how to write it.

[gojonanami]

honestly I knew gojo was going to die — narratively it makes perfect sense — gege knew from the moment he had gojo declare that he would win against sukuna at the very beginning.

my problem was the execution.

I have very little problems with nanami or choso’s deaths (except how they were addressed or lack there of, after). however with gojo the problem runs deeper — he was essential to the story from the start in jjk 0 and to see him treated like this after his death feels like a disservice.

the way he was off screened for shock value, the way he was spoken to in the airport scene by everyone (except geto), the way the other characters dealt with his death after the battle.

it just felt incomplete.

it felt right for nanami to die the way he did because of the effect it had on yuji long term in the story. with choso, it felt right because choso was satisfied to have saved his brother (though with exception, b/c his death feels like it undercuts the whole scene with him and yuki before), but I still was really satisfied and moved by that whole scene.

i did not feel that way for gojo. I felt as if he got the respect he deserved and the love he deserved from the other characters, I would have been happy. but I feel like the only two that gave him that was yuji and yuta. and we still didn’t get to see him laid to rest with geto.

I don’t mind characters I love dying (I rather they not obviously) but at least let it be satisfying.

[allaboutnayeli]

F.T.L | m.leon x reader / i.engen x reader

summary: you find out mapi is cheating, so you get revenge in the best way possible: getting a taste of her lover.

author notes: figure out what F.T.L stands for :)

contains: mapi leon x reader, ingrid engen x reader, mapi leon x ingrid engen, medical university student!reader, tattoo artist!ingrid engen, this is full of cheating & lying, cheating used as a form of revenge, everyone is sorta a piece of shit sorryyy, tons of angst, this is NOT smut so don't even, toxicity, a prime example of what NOT to do in a relationship, this is very long cause i'm not leaving yall on a cliffhanger, this is very insane so buckle in 🙂🩷

playing B.A.S by megan thee stallion 🎵

"are you sure she's cheating and you aren't just overthinking?" your bestfriend, daniela, says. the brunette is sitting right next to you on her couch. one arm resting on the back of the couch, her face resting in the palm of her hand and the other hand holding a glass of white wine.

"i wouldn't just accuse her of something this bad if i didn't have a reason to be suspicious," you respond. you take a sip of your own wine to shove down the anger and sadness that's bubbling in your conscience. not that daniela would ever judge you if you did let those emotions show themselves. the woman has been your pillar since you started having these suspicions about your girlfriend, maria.

my name is maria, but everyone calls me mapi. i would rather you call me yours, though, is what the spaniard said the first time you two met. you thought the pickup line was so cringe and dorky, but at the same time, so cute coming from the tattooed brunette.

and that one line led to nearly four years of a loving relationship. what can you say? mapi is one of the sweetest people you know. she remembers small details like how you prefer oat milk than any other kind, so she always makes sure to get it when she does the grocery shopping or the way you used to complain about how tight your hair ties were, so she bought you extra stretchy ones. she's the cutest cat mom with bagheera being absolutely spoiled. mapi was also protective, good with kids, and so many great qualities.

she is also a cheater.

sweet, caring, certified cat lover, super dorky maria is a cheater.

you sat on this suspicion for a short while before booking it to daniela's while mapi is at her favorite tattoo shop getting another inked beauty; that darned tattoo shop.

"after nearly every appointment, she goes out for drinks with her tattoo artist. at first, i thought she just made a new friend, but she always came back home looking messier than usual.. smelling like some perfume.. and when i ask her what they did at the bar, she barely tells me anything," you explain, "and you know how mapi is! she's the type of person who wouldn't be able to stop talking even if it was to save her life."

daniela nods in agreement. anyone who spends even a few minutes around mapi knows how much the spanish woman likes to talk. if there was a guinness world record for the "biggest yapper" mapi would be a record holder.

"okay, i would be suspicious too," daniela says. you let out an exactly that makes her playfully hit your arm. "anyways, back to what i was saying.. what are you going to do about it? even if she isn't cheating, something is going on."

you purse your lips as you take in her question. what are you going to do? confronting her right away feels wrong when you don't have concrete evidence. randomly accusing your girlfriend to her face wouldn't go over well; mapi is a sweetheart, but hates when people say she did something she's sure she didn't.

after some thinking about it, you come up with an idea.

"i need actual proof.." you start to say. daniela gestures for you to hurry up as you trail off.

"i have to get access to her phone."

it's around eight when mapi comes back to you guys apartment. you're feeding bagheera dinner when the spaniard walks through the door.

not wanting to seem suspicious and also just genuinely missing your girlfriend (even if you did suspect she was being disloyal) after a long day of basically not seeing her, you pet bagheera before standing up and going over to the front door. mapi has already slipped off her shoes when you walk over. she's smiles when you come close.

"hola mi preciosa," she giggles when you give her a welcome back home peck, "how was your day, hm?"

"good.. but better now that you're here," you say, pulling her into a hug. it's warm and makes your heart flutter like usual. those flutters go away as you smell that unfamiliar perfume on mapi, reminding you of what you talked about with daniela. you hide your frown in mapi's neck.

"aweee. you missed me that bad?" mapi says when you pull yourself out of the hug. still holding onto her as you two move to the kitchen.

you roll your eyes at her sudden cockiness. it's an annoying but charming trait of hers. now you wonder if that same charm is what made another woman fall for her hard enough that she didn't care that mapi was already taken; if the woman even knows.

you push those thoughts away. playfully teasing her as you say, "no, i just didn't want to wash the dishes after eating dinner. now you can do it."

mapi perks up at the sound of dinner and then groans at the talk of dishes. that was her least favorite chore by far.

"cmon, amor. you know you wash the dishes way better than i do," she pouts at you, leaning against the kitchen island. that pout makes you smile (something that you reprimand yourself for mentally) as you get the lasagna out of the oven.

you hear the meow of bagheera as she comes over to mapi. the brunette bends down and picks up the black cat right away. kissing the top of the cat's head like she always does.

"i swear you love that cat more than me," you joke.

mapi shrugs, "can you fault me if i did? just look at her, babe. she's adorable." she holds up bagheera so that the cat's face is facing you. of course, the black cat looks adorable per usual. you might not have been there from the beginning, but you love bagheera just as much as mapi does.

"yeahh.. the cutest one in the house," you say before turning your attention to the lasagna. you make two plates of lasagna and grab both when you finish.

"grab us some drinks, will ya?" you walk from the kitchen to the table in the 'dining room', which is really just open space between the kitchen and living room that needed something to be filled up with.

mapi says a quick okay before setting down bagheera back on the floor (she gives her a kiss before she does, of course) and goes over to the fridge. she grabs a pink lemonade for you and a pepsi for herself. she follows after you, setting the drinks down on the table, then sits down.

"gracias, mi amor," she says when you place her plate down in front of her. once you sit down across from her, you say, "de nada."

you two eat a bit before you bring up the tattoo shop. mapi is rambling on about the meetings she had to attend in the morning,

"-and all he does is go on and on about basically nothing. i don't get how someone can talk so much.." the spaniard says in between bites. you let out a giggle at the irony of mapi, of all people, complaining about someone talking too much. the nice atmosphere sours a little (at least for you) as you think back to what you need to ask; just to confirm, this suspicion of yours isn't something you made it due up to overthinking.

"he sounds annoying as shit," you chuckle, easily sliding into the topic you really want to know about, "beside all that, how was your tattoo appointment?"

mapi visibly gets less chipper than she was while rambling. the change is subtle, she bites her lip and starts to sorta push around the food on her plate as she looks down at it like she's thinking about what to bite next.

your eyes flicker down to her lips. why is she being hot at this moment? the spanish woman really has no right when she's acting like she doesn't wanna talk about something that should be her favorite topic. mapi loves tattoos. everyone knows she loves tattoos, so why wouldn't she yap about her appointments like she does everything else?

she takes a bite of her lasagna before shrugging, "it was alright. i didn't get anything done, but i talked with my tattoo artist about the design i wanted."

you nod, waiting for her to continue on like she usually would with any other topic, but no.

mapi just goes back to eating. obviously waiting for you to reply back to her.

"that sounds nice, baby. what design did you pick?" you ask.

"uh, just a design of bagheera."

"that's adorable."

mapi smiles at you, "i know. i already have a few of her, but i want more, you know. she's getting older."

"yeah, she's becoming a grandma." that makes mapi laugh loudly, going right into joking around about bagheera's age. you join in and don't even say anything when the topic strays away from the tattoo shop.

you two talk about practically nothing, finishing the rest of the lasagna. now both of you are washing dishes instead of it just being mapi's chore. what can you say? you aren't able to resist her puppy eyes even when all you think about when you see them now is if she ever used those on another woman romantically.

"are you ready for our date tomorrow?" you say, drying off a plate mapi handed you.

she smiles, "of course. i have been missing our date days. i'm so ready to spend the entire day with the prettiest woman i know." she turns towards you, puckering her lips for a kiss. you giggle and peck her lips a few times.

"you really think that?" you say. it comes out playful, but there is vulnerability lingering at its edges. in mapi's eyes is some concern, she knows you like the back of her hand. of course she would notice if you sound insecure.

mapi puts down the plate in the sink and dries her hands before pulling you close to her. she kisses the side of your face as her arms hold onto your waist, "why wouldn't i? just look at you. the love of my life."

usually, her words would reassure you right away, but not now. not when you are sure she's cheating on you. if you're so beautiful then why is she fucking around with someone else?

you don't let those thoughts influence your actions, though, as you hold onto her tighter. if you hold on a little longer, maybe you can pretend that mapi just really likes that tattoo shop and isn't doing anything strange. maybe you can pretend she's still all yours.

mapi lets you be the one to pull away, kissing you right away. then when that ends, she smiles, "i'm gonna finish up these plates, then shower. just go relax, okay?"

you nod, pecking her lips again before leaving the kitchen. you go to sit on the couch, bagheera coming over to sit on your lap. a cuddle session starts as bagheera snuggles up to you. the only sounds in the apartment is the tv playing, bagheera's purring, and mapi's humming as she washes the dishes as the woman can't even be silent when doing that.

soon enough, the sound of the water running stops. mapi says, "i'm going to go shower first. i'll be out in thirty. can you put my phone on the charger for me, amor?"

"mhm, sure!" this is finally your chance to check mapi's phone. you kiss the top of bagheera's head before letting her get off your lap, so you can go grab mapi's phone.

you reach the counter where she left the device on. your heart starts racing as you pick it up. just do a quick look, then put it on the charger you tell yourself as you start to type in mapi's password.

it doesn't work.

the password that mapi has been using since you two have been together isn't working.

"what the fuck..?" you murmur, trying the password one more time before just accepting that she changed it. you already have some evidence just from this because why would she change it? this also foils your plans. how can you get in her phone?

you decide you need to call daniela later and figure out a different plan.

right when you set down the phone back on the counter, a text pops up.

ingrid 💕

wish you could have stayed-

only the start of the message shows, and when you try to tap on it to see the rest, it says you have to unlock the phone. your heart feels like it's going to beat out of your chest as you tap on the message again, reading it over and over again. who the fuck is ingrid?

you have to get into her phone and soon.

you realize time is ticking. mapi won't be in the shower forever. quickly, you go and put her phone on the charger. your heart beat is not calming down even when you pick up bagheera from her cat tree and start to cuddle with her again. the contrast of bagheera being so calm and sleepy to your internal panic and hurt is laughable, but the black cat is grounding in a way. in the same way that mapi once was.

you sigh as you think about what this all could lead to. definitely a break-up, but you weren't gonna just leave and let mapi live in peace with.. ingrid. whoever the hell that is.

you are still deep into the mourning the lost of your relationship when mapi comes out of your bedroom. she's dressed in her usual oversized white t-shirt and shorts so short it looks like she isn't wearing any at all.

cute is what you would of thought if this was a week or two ago when you weren't sure that your girlfriend wasn't enjoying the company of someone else behind your back.

however, just because you figured mapi is cheating or doing something wrong doesn't mean all your feelings go away like a switch. you still find mapi very cute with that freshly washed, sleepy look on her face. you still want to get up and go kiss her on your way to the bathroom like you always do,

so you do. when you get off the couch, you make sure to stop and give mapi a long kiss. "you're adorable," you say when you pull away. enjoying the way her lips are slightly swollen. the spanish woman giggles, pecking your lips once more.

"you're even cuter," she says before leaving your side to go to the couch. immediately cuddling up to bagheera just like you were earlier.

you go into your bedroom, grab your pajamas, and then go into the bathroom. whether to shower with cold or hot water is a battle for you. the cold will make you have goosebumps. it'll shock you enough that for a quick second, you won't even think about this. but the hot water will burn your skin and warm up your heart that feel like it's already melting from the outside.

hot it is.

as the first few water droplets fall down onto your body, you let out a sigh. the warmth of the water feels so good but makes your mind feel so hazy, you hate it but you love it and damn you wish this wasn't happening right now.

maybe it wasn't.

maybe when you finish doing this and walk out of this bathroom, mapi wouldn't be a cheater. her password would be the same. ingrid, whoever she is, wouldn't even be in the equation. you would just go out there and cuddle with mapi like you always do, then go to sleep together like you always do then you two would go on a date and everything will be perfect like they always been.

has it always been perfect? how long has this cheating thing been going on? has mapi been cheating on the entire time? is mapi even trustworthy?

and what about ingrid? who is she? is she hotter than you? talks better than you? has a better job than you? is she some fucking bombshell who you can't even compare to?

why? when? how? who? why?

why the fuck would mapi do this to you?

"amor!" the voice of mapi shakes you out of your thoughts. she knocks on the bathroom door. when you don't reply right away, she says, "can i come in? i need to piss."

your mind moves slower than it should as you take in what she said. would it be wrong of you not to want her in here? not when you feel so vulnerable that it's like your skin was stripped off of you.

"uh.. i'll be out quick. can you wait? please?" you say. stumbling to start actually washing your body instead of just standing under the water.

mapi doesn't reply but moves away from the door. concern overtakes her mind as she goes back over to the couch. you two have been together for almost four years now. you have seen her in every way, and she has seen you every way, so what's so crazy about her using the bathroom while you shower? she thinks back to earlier when you asked her if she really thinks you're the prettiest woman she knows. the insecure tone you had didn't escape past her. is it because of that? if it is then why are you feeling insecure in the first place? mapi thinks over the last few months and nothing comes up for why you would feel that way.

unless you knew about ingrid, but you couldn't know about ingrid because mapi has been careful. she still has been the most loving girlfriend towards you, so nothing would be suspicious. of course, mapi hasn't been loving just because she wanted to make sure you didn't catch that she's sneaking behind your back, she genuinely still cares for you.

you definitely don't know about ingrid. this is just one of those times when you need extra reassurance which mapi is fine with giving.

she loves you.

she swears she does.

"you can go piss now," your voice pulls mapi out of the chaos that is currently her mind. in the time of her panicking and being concerned, you had finished showering and changed. now you're standing next to the couch. she smiles as her eyes land on you. "look at youu. all clean and cute," she says after standing up. you slightly flush at the compliment (even though you don't want to. it's a natural reaction, okay?)

"shut up and go piss." you giggle, moving past her to sit down on the couch. mapi playfully blows you a kiss before leaving out of the room. the interaction between you two should make your heart feel fond, but how can it when in the back of your mind is the reminder that mapi is probably acting this way with someone else when you aren't around. you wish you could blow away all of these feelings you have for her, but you can't so you just let bagheera come cuddle you.

and when mapi comes back into the living room, a large blanket in hand, you still cuddle up to her while you two watch cartoons. this is something you will definitely miss when you leave her. the thought of leaving mapi is not one you want to think about right now, so you push it to the side and snuggle up more to the spaniard.

it's easy to pretend everything is the same if you don't think about anything.

an hour later, you're laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling while mapi cuddles you. her head is on your chest, her arm around your waist. you can feel the gentle exhale and inhale of her body.

it should calm you. right now, you should be rubbing small circles on her back under her shirt. you should be kissing the top of her head at random until you let the clutches of sleep take you.

but you can't.

your body feels frozen as you lay there. how many times have mapi been like this with ingrid? the thought fills you up with dread, anger, sadness, disgust. jealousy.

what about her makes her so much better than you?

you haven't been giving mapi all the attention she deserves, but only because you're trying not to fail your classes in pre-med. staying on campus until late doesn't give you the same whimsy feeling as sitting around with mapi doing nothing or going out with mapi or just existing alongside her.

if only you could detach yourself right now.

if only this was one big misunderstanding.

if only this wasn't happening.

you wish you was stuck in a dream right now and all you had to do was shake yourself awake.

why?

maria, why?

you lay there for another hour, just letting your thoughts trample you, then you slip away. the sight of mapi cuddling up to the pillow that's supposed to be you makes you smile and want to cry.

you do cry.

as you step onto the balcony attached to the living room, phone in hand, the sound of ringing joining in the busy sounds of barcelona's nightlife.

"it's nearly one am and i have a eight am class tomorrow so this better be-"

"i saw a text," you interrupt her. you don't mean to, but you have been keeping this to yourself since you saw it.

daniela doesn't speak for a few minutes. you hear the shuffle of her covers and the click of a lamp being turned on. then she says, "from the chick she's cheating with?"

"her name is ingrid. mapi has a contact saved with a heart, a fucking heart. i couldn't see the entire text, right?" daniela says a small right. "so i tried to unlock her phone and she changed her password! mapi changed her password and i swear she has probably had the same password since like high-school because you know she can be forgetful and-"

"slow the fuck down. my brain can't keep up with all that, and you are working yourself up. calm down, y/n," daniela says. you stop talking, allowing yourself to just breathe for a minute, but that doesn't mean your blood stops boiling.

"i am trying to calm down but dani, my girlfriend is cheating on me for fucks sake!" you don't mean to shout at her, but you do. thankfully, you're outside, so mapi couldn't have heard you.

"okay! okay. alright, sorry," daniela sighs, "so you saw a text from some chick named ingrid, tried to see the full text, and couldn't get into mapi's phone because she changed her password?"

"yes.."

"okay, listen. this is what you're gonna do."

the next morning, you wake up to the smell of bacon and the sound of jazz music playing. you slide out of bed and walk out into the living room to the sight of mapi looking pretty in the kitchen as she cooks. she's already dressed, unlike you. instead of immediately saying good morning, you just enjoy the sight for the few minutes that you do. this is something you will miss, so what's wrong with indulging a little?

mapi doesn't notice your presence right away, too distracted with the music, cooking, and her own singing. it's only when she turns to the kitchen island to change the song playing on her phone that she sees you. a smile blooms on her lips right away. "buenos dias, amor. how long have you been there?" mapi moves from in the kitchen to where you are in the living room.

"long enough to hear your horrible vocals," you say as she pulls you into her arms.

"they aren't," she pecks your lips, "horrible."

"i think our neighbors would disagree."

"they should be lucky i'm giving them a free performance. i could be the next-" you shut her up by kissing her. it starts off lazy, but soon you are more forceful; not for the usual reason, though. it's not passion driving you to press against mapi, but anger.

your almost make-out session is interrupted by the slight smell of burning. "shit, the bacon," mapi lets go of you before speed-walking to the kitchen.

she's able to cut off the stove before any of the bacon truly burns. thankfully, the fire alarm doesn't go off. your neighbors would really hate that. you walk over to the kitchen, going to lean against the kitchen island. you watch mapi as she plates breakfast for the two of you. now that you are actually standing in the kitchen instead of looking from afar, you can see mapi has cooked more than just bacon. there are toast and scrambled eggs as well. the warmth that suddenly blooms in your heart irks you and, at the same time, saddens you. this is a domestic scene that mapi and you have been in many times. the spanish woman loves to cook for you, but what's to say she doesn't love cooking for her little secret?

"thank you for all this, babe," you say when she hands your plate to you. mapi laughs off your thanks, saying something along the lines of i'm your girlfriend it's my job inbetween bites of bacon. usually, you two would sit at the dining table and eat, but today, yall opt for sitting at the kitchen island.

your shoulders rub against each other as you eat. of course, mapi yaps in between bites. mostly about all the activities she has planned for you two the entire day, how she hopes you are impressed, and that yall should match since it is a date day today. you keep up with her good enough. she has been your girlfriend for nearly four years now, after all. just responding back from time to time keeps her happy. mapi doesn't really need a reply to continue talking anyway, just your attention.

you finish eating before mapi (to neither of yours surprise), so you go to wash the dishes and let mapi play with bagheera for a bit. that only takes ten minutes or so then you are off to the bathroom to get ready for the day, making sure to kiss both of your girls before you do. bagheera lets out a meow when you leave her eyesight, but soon her attention is redirected elsewhere as mapi starts to rile her up.

when you step into the shower, all the emotions you were putting behind a lovesick mask can show themselves. the bitter taste that feels your mouth, the betrayal that burns your throat, the guilt that grips onto your shoulders. you shouldn't even be feeling guilty right now. not when mapi is the one who betrayed your loyalty. still, the sting of guilt lingers around your skin, burning you. in a perfect world, you would be feeling like shit for even thinking that mapi, your sweet, perfect, mapi was cheating. your bestfriend would shake your shoulders and say, "are you stupid? that woman is inlove with you." instead, you were met with okay, i would be suspicious too. you try to lift that dread that pools in your stomach by thinking about how fun this day is going to be,

and how you should savor it since it's going to be one of the last.

author notes: this is an lesson on how you shouldn't trust anyone's words.. JK but fr sorry for the cliffhanger, this was just getting way too long. part two coming soon 🩷 (this is not grammar checked bare with me yall)

© ALLABOUTNAYELI

[mirisss]

SKZ reaction to their s/o being a loud introvert (ISTP)

SKZ x gn! ISTP reader

Thank you so much for the request 🐹! I hope you and everyone else enjoy it! 

I tried to write as best as I could and I hope I did it justice. 

I also apologize for switching POV/writing style in the middle of this but for some reason it felt better writing these two styles for the different reactions.

Warnings: None I think, maybe a slight mention of shyness, possibly a bit of anxiety if you squint. 

Wordcount ≈ 1k 

Bang Chan, Changbin, Felix, Han

These four would find it adorable that their s/o was comfortable enough around them to just act however they wanted to. When around strangers (Y/n) would be more quiet, keeping close to their boyfriend, and anxious about meeting new people. However, when it was just (Y/n) and Chan/Binnie/Felix/Han or maybe the other boys around, (Y/n) would be loud and outgoing, feeling safe and comfortable in their presence. Chan/Binnie/Felix/Han all felt their hearts swell with pride and love as they knew they were a safe space for their s/o, just as (Y/n) was for them. 

Han related so much to how (Y/n) acts as they are quite similar personality-wise, so he understands why they sometimes don’t talk as they usually would if someone new is around or if there’s a large group of people. Though he loves that both he and (Y/n) can be outgoing and loud with each other, while it might be harder once the two are out alone as both are introverted, usually Han finds some courage in himself to be the more extroverted one but sometimes (Y/n) is the one to do that. No matter who is the more extroverted one, they both need the other to stand close by, holding their hand, so they don’t have to do it all on their own. 

Changbin loves to talk and do things, he’s not afraid to make a fool of himself so he loves it when (Y/n) can act silly with him, whenever they are out and (Y/n) goes into quiet introvert mode, Changbin is their number 1 protector, always observing their body language and the second he sees them being uncomfortable, he’s picking up his jacket, ready to leave. 

Felix might be an extrovert but many times he’s quite calm, compared to some others in his group, but with (Y/n) he always matches their energy, ready to be whatever they need. If (Y/n) needs him to be super energetic and bouncing off the walls with them, he’ll do it, if (Y/n) needs some quiet time just cuddling and watching a movie, he’s on the couch with open arms ready for a movie marathon. He loves the moments when they’re being silly and loud together but as physical touch and quality time is a big thing for him as well, he truly cherishes their quiet time. 

Chan is a combination of all three boys above, he is a man who will do everything he can to make sure his s/o is safe, comfortable, and happy, so if that means (Y/n) distracting him from work sometimes with random conversations or sudden exclamations, or him being the one to make every phone call for (Y/n), he doesn’t mind it. As long as he gets to be with you, he’s happy to do anything. 

Minho, Seungmin, Hyunjin, Jeongin

These four are wildcards, sometimes you can’t keep them quiet, and other times they’ll just be sitting in the chaos observing the world around them. So having a s/o that is similar to them but also often quite loud when it’s just the two of them or when they are around friends they feel safe with, is shocking at times. It’s easy to forget that your s/o is an introvert when they have been screaming song into the mic at the karaoke for the last 2 hours without a care in the world, but then they are reminded of the introvert they love as they are too shy to order a drink on their own. 

Minho thinks it’s kind of cute and fits well with him, he’s often laid back, preferring to observe the chaos rather than participate in it, a man who loves doing acts of service so ordering a drink for you is just the perfect way for him to show his love for you. Seungmin is similar to Minho when it comes to the acts of service, of course, he’ll sing a song with you, oh you wanna sing it in a silly way, of course, he’ll do that, you want an iced tea and you’re too scared to order it on your own, he’s on it, he’ll even throw in an order for a dessert for you. 

Hyunjin doesn’t understand where you find the energy to run around chasing Han throughout the dorm as you both laugh loudly, he isn’t even sure how this chase started but he will sit on the couch, smiling to himself as he sees the wide smile and the sparkle in your eyes, he loves seeing you like this, just living your best life, and then once you’ve calmed down a little, you go over to him, sitting down in his lap as he wraps his arms around, putting his chin on your shoulder, “Hey love, having fun?” “Yeah, how about you?” “I’m having a wonderful time watching you laugh and smile like this, wish I could paint it, you look so beautiful,”

Jeongin loves running around with his members, acting like a child, what he loves even more than that is when you join in on the playing. Running around playing with water guns, spraying each other, laughing, screaming, other people around on the beach only sigh and shake their heads at the nine young adults acting like 5-year-olds. “Want to go buy some ice cream?” He asks to try and get some alone time with you, “Of course!” The two of you walk away to the ice cream truck, you excitedly look at all the flavors, deciding on (flavor), and Jeongin decided on his own favorite flavor, you stand in line, but once it is time to order, you shyly looked at Jeongin who instantly understood that you wished for him to order for you which he happily does all the time. 

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

listen I love stede a lot - I think he's the bravest character in the show. he changes everyone he meets for the better. he embodies what I think of as the thesis of the show. if he wasn't the way that he is, the show would not be very good, imo.

but in ep one he gives his pirate crew notes on the raid they just did as though they were a community theater troupe and his notes were 1) complimenting his own opening speech as "very inspiring" and 2) complaining that that the crew wasn't sufficiently enthusiastic about robbing two poor fisherman of a single plant.

during the raid his narration went "some men are born to be pirate captains, others learn on the job. me? well I'm a pretty solid mix of both" as though he has any idea what he's doing.

and AFTER the raid Olu has to gently point out to him that piracy isn't a game to the rest of the crew.

There's a reason that Rhys Darby was the only person capable of playing Stede without making him seem like a total dick. And I think that's bc Rhys was able to convey the idea that Stede's behavior in the first few eps is coming out of this deep sense of insecurity - he's doing some Stede-y things (flag making! paying the crew! bedtime stories!) that are great but he's also pretending to be this macho pirate captain who totally knows what he's doing. And it's the pretending that makes people cringe with second hand embarrassment. While also, often, seeing themselves in it and feeling a great deal of sympathy for Stede about it.

The reason Stede is like this is because HE thinks there's something deeply wrong with him, a belief that has been solidified by everyone around him his entire life, and therefore he needs to do everything he can to hide that deeply wrong thing about him. When he unpacks that and embraces the things about himself he originally thought were embarrassing (being weak, pathetic, soft, etc), he can stop pretending. And that's when other characters grow to love him! And so people will sometimes call him cringe because they aspire to be cringe like him, to embrace the parts of themselves that they were punished for and live more authentically.

because he changes! that's the point! he moves from cringe (pretending to be someone he's not) to cringe (being true to himself, always a deeply vulnerable thing to be) and it takes a lot of hard work. that's what makes me LIKE him as a character. that's what I think makes him the bravest character on the show. because he doesn't start out perfect. he's a puppet who grows into a real boy and that means that for a period of time he was a puppet, and that's okay.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Different is Better

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Javi invites your ex back with Storm Par amidst the flirtation between you and Tyler. 

Notes/Warnings: This was a combination of requests, so it's not exactly what everyone asked for, but I got it as close as I could, sp hopefully it satisfies in some ways. Allusion to smut. Cursing probably. Scott sucks (sorry to the Scott lovers), Javi sucks a little too (sorry to the Javi lovers).

Words: 2850

Tyler Owens Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

The second the Storm Par team finishes settling on the schedule for tomorrow, you remove yourself from the rest of the chasers in the parking lot, Wranglers included, and press your back into the outer wall of the motel. Perfectly out of sight and free to feel how you want without judgment.

You can’t breathe around him. You can’t think properly. And damn him for fucking loving it. Damn the smirk that slices into your skin. Damn fucking Javi for requesting his participation on the team after swearing up and down that he wouldn’t. Damn him for not warning you, forcing you to spend the last half-hour since his arrival in wild discomfort.

It had been so good without him. The best chasing you’d done in years. Relaxing, free from tension despite the chaos of rolling into the heart of unpredictable weather. In his absence, you chased with excitement; you chased with that tingly zingy feeling in your gut; you chased with a pounding heart, with hands shaky not from nerves but from raw, untainted energy shooting throughout your entire body. 

The last two months of chasing renewed your love of the craft and proved more than anything that Scott has been—and still is—a soul-sucking, life-draining leech….to you, anyway. 

But everyone already loves him, just short of instantly obsessed with him, especially the females of the group who neglect that ‘award-winning’ personality he’s managed to display in only thirty-two minutes. Shamefully, it almost makes you wish the team Javi assembled had fewer young college girls and a heck of a lot more mature, determined women. They would easily see past his looks and recognize that his intelligence does not surpass that of anyone else on the team. He is not some rare, fascinating, genius savior who has come to solve all of the data-collecting problems the team’s been having; he’s just an extra helping hand that, frankly, you firmly believe you don’t need. 

But no…as has been the case each time you’ve worked together since you ended your little college fling—or whatever the fuck it was—he gets to be Mr. Perfect, and you’re stuck as the angsty bitch who whines over him being here. 

“So…that’s the guy, huh?” Tyler asks as he rounds the corner and joins you under the cover of near-darkness. 

He practically shines under the damaged streetlamp’s thin, flickering light. You’re not looking at him, but you don’t have to be to see that much clearly. He glows in your peripherals, and with another step closer to you, your heartbeat stumbles within your ribcage. 

Tyler is the one thing you credit for reviving you. What started as a less-than-friendly rivalry changed when you accepted a challenge to chase with his crew one day, and though Javi was displeased, you were too curious about Tyler’s methods to turn him down. 

With one ride in his truck, the spark you thought had long died reignited. Now you have a respect for Tyler that the rest of your team does not. Respect…and a bit more. 

Though you would never abandon your team, you became increasingly hooked on the idea of chasing with Tyler again, and it was so stupidly obvious. And with that obviousness, an unspoken essence of sorts developed between you. A forbidden attraction you’re both aware of but have yet to fully act on, though not for lack of trying.

You take turns almost breaking that final barrier—heavy breathing, noses nearly brushing, lips a hairs-width away from connecting, but something always gets in the way: his team, yours, the weather. But not this time. Cock-block of the day? Scott Miller. 

Tyler’s eyes stay on your cheek as he stuffs his hands into his front jean’s pockets. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

When you look at Tyler, your brows knit at the disappointment on his face. He offers a smile, but it’s far less convincing than what he is capable of, like he didn’t even bother trying to give you one of his good ones. And you’ve seen a good smile from Tyler Owens. It can knock anyone off their feet. 

“It isn’t,” you tell him as you turn your attention back to the miles of grass in front of you. At night, under such little light, the eye gets tricked and the blades blend into a vast span of blackness, like a giant hole in the ground just a few feet away. One you might consider jumping into it if you could. 

“I mean, it was,” you continue, “but not anymore.”

He nods. “You have to work close with him?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Unfortunately.”

Tyler blows out a breath. His hand runs through his hair before his head falls back against the brick wall of the motel, eyes closed and chin tilted toward the night sky. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

“Yea.”

Cicadas fill the following silence. Lightning bugs sprinkle throughout the space around you, thriving in the intense humidity that adds a thin sheen to your skin. You can see him thinking. Questioning. His fingers tap against his clothed thigh and your stomach clenches with dread. The last thing you want—the thing that would crush you—is Tyler sizing up whether or not you are worth the trouble of an ex even cockier than he is and more arrogant than you once believed him to be. One thing Tyler and Scott have in common: the adoring attention from young women. You’ve heard the stories from Lilly and Boone, and at any point, Tyler could tip his hat in adieu and return to his many fans to seek the encounters you’ve been hoping to share with him.  

Tyler turns his head to you. “You still like him? At all?”

“No,” you answer, trying not to be offended by the question he has a right to ask. To you, it’s absurd, insulting. To him, it’s covering his bases and understanding what, if anything, he is getting in between by pursuing you, or considering pursuing you. “The way he approaches relationships mimics the way he approaches chasing,” you continue. “Controlling, nit-picky, demanding. I couldn't stand it.” He’s nothing like you, you want to say, but for some reason, don’t.

Your heart’s discomfort eases with the slow spread of a smile across his face. You step toward him. “Look, Tyler, I know we haven’t really talked about us, but I–”

“There you are. I was starting to think I ran you off.”

The intruding voice snatches your attention and Tyler immediately pushes off the wall, positioning himself closer to your side. “I'm not sure you're threatening enough for that,” he says. 

Scott smirks, one eyebrow arching. “And you are?”

“Tyler,” he says, reaching out his hand in a play-nice gesture. “Owens.”

Realization dawns on Scott. “Oh, of course,” he replies, a mocking grin forming as he accepts the handshake. When he takes his hand back, he crosses his arms and cocks his head to the side. “Your reputation precedes you. How many followers have you managed to stack up by playing around for entertainment?”

“Subscribers,” Tyler corrects. “A mil.”

“Must be validating after failing to make it professionally.”

Your gut twists, fists almost clenching, but you restrain yourself from showing his effect on you. “That’s not why he does what he does,” you scold your ex sternly. Tyler’s head whips to you. You can just barely detect the gentle smile on his face. 

Scott hums, nonchalantly advancing closer to hover over you. His eyes penetrate like lasers into yours. “You know, you should really think before you fraternize. You wouldn’t want to make us look bad,” he says, running a knuckle down your cheek. You flinch away from his touch and he grins. “That’s all,” he says. “Good night, you two” And then he turns on his heel and returns from where he came. 

“Charming,” Tyler sarcastically snips. “I see the appeal.”

—

He fucking left you behind. 

You were trying to finish up his job after he failed to properly secure Javi’s tech, but as you were doing so, the tornado’s size grew and its speed picked up and it was headed right for you. Scott screamed at you, panicked in a way you’ve never heard before, but when you weren’t quick enough for his liking, he slammed your door and drove off, leaving you to looming disaster. 

If not for Tyler, you’d be dead. He spotted you in his crew’s attempt to flee, and though it was an insane risk, he came for you, leaping out of his truck and grabbing you as he yelled for Boone to take the wheel. 

He practically threw you into the back seat before crawling in after you and wrapping your shivering body in his arms.

“Tyler, man, I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to outrun it!” Boone called back, eyes darting between the blurry road in front of him and the rearview mirror. 

“Then drill us into the fucking ground!”

And that’s where you stayed, huddled together, your face in his neck as the storm tried to tear you apart. 

—

Are you out of your fucking mind!” Tyler shouts, stomping through the parking lot of the motel refuge. 

To your relief, the small, aged structure was out of the tornado's path, if just barely, and in the aftermath, the owner offered free rooms to those in need. Except for Boone, who holds you steady as Tyler storms off, the Wranglers pass out whatever shirts and food they have available, providing what comfort they can.

Javi inserts himself between Tyler and Scott, his hands up to keep Tyler back. “Woah, woah, calm down.”

“He could’ve fucking killed her!”

Javi’s concerned brow settles from shock. “W-What?” he asks. “What are you talking about?”

Tyler’s as vicious as a lion, his teeth bared, claws out as he tries to side-step Javi to get to Scott, who has backed up a step. “He left her out there!”

You can see the Adam’s apple bob in your ex’s throat. His composure is on edge. He’s never been called out before, not even by you. “She was being stupid.”

“She was doing your job!”

Scott scoffs as Javi blinks, trying to adjust to the rapid-fire information being thrown at him. He’s never been good at an onslaught of facts, needing that adjustment period for things to properly sink in. He’s careful that way. It’s his methodical mind. He takes his time with his planning, and that extends past his inventions. “Look, everyone’s safe. Everyone’s tired. Let’s just get some rest and we can deal with this tomorrow.”

“You’re letting him stay? After what he did?”

“Right now, no one has anywhere to go,” Javi explains, and though true, it doesn’t mean Scott has to remain here now that the threat is gone. Javi’s eyes dart past Tyler’s shoulder to your shaken form. He sighs an exhale that deflates his entire chest, his eyes close, and he shakes his head. He brought this on. He knows it. Scott was a mistake, and while it wasn’t Javi who put you in danger, you don’t mind him absorbing some of the guilt of what happened. “Just…take care of her.”

Tyler huffs and says, “That’s more than you people do,” before turning around and coming for you. Boone passes you off with a nod. Tyler’s arm goes around your body, his hand rubbing up and down your bicep. You wonder where he stored the rage so quickly, but you appreciate that he didn’t set any of it aside for you. After all, you’re the reason he almost died. You’re the reason his friend almost died. Just because it was not a potential consequence of your choices, the stress of near death can keep anyone on edge. But not Tyler, apparently. He has other priorities.

“Come on,” Tyler says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” And he guides you to your room, the very same one you’ve been tempted to invite him to since your first chase together. You didn’t imagine this was how he would come to join you.

—

Tyler’s jaw slackens when you exit the bathroom in a small towel that barely covers your body, and he quickly rises from where he is sitting at the end of your mattress, wiping his palms on his jeans as if to remove the moisture collected there. His eyes go wide, but they can’t seem to meet yours, his green orbs trailing up and down your body. 

“They’re a bit short,” you tell him.

“Yea, I, uh,” His hand runs over his hair down to his neck. “I know,” he says, instantly conjuring the image of a bare Tyler, water droplets covering his skin, a measly towel wrapped around his waist held together by one hand; a hand that, if removed, would cause the towel to drop to the ratty carpeting. “Do you, um…you need anything? I can try to get you–”

“No,” you stop him. “I’m alright.” A beat passes, and then he nods and blows out a breath. “Thank you, for saving me. You didn’t have to risk yourself like that.”

His eyes find yours then. “You can’t possibly think that I wouldn’t.”

“I know you’re kinder than most. Braver than most. But you’re not stupid, and saving me was a bit–”

“Don’t say that. I’d do it again,” he says. When he steps toward you, the towel suddenly feels much smaller. You feel exposed under his gaze, but to your surprise, not embarrassed. Scott had a way of making you feel less than in what seemed like a thousand different ways, but not Tyler. His eyes marvel. “And again.”

You take a deep breath, releasing it slowly out your nose. 

“Are you still shaken up?” Tyler asks you. 

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He stops directly in front of you. “Can I finally kiss you then?”

Your lips part. The towel falls, not necessarily with intention, but you can’t hold the thing up and wrap your arms around his neck at the same time. And, right now, one is more important than the other. 

Tyler tastes like the cola from your fridge that he must’ve had while he waited for you in the shower. His teeth nibble at your bottom lip, and you open for him. His hands settle on your bare waist for what seems like all of two seconds before they’re sliding lower, squeezing flesh, and pulling you in closer. Your fingers pick at the buttons of his shirt, the first few coming free. 

“You sure about this?” is muffled out between kisses.

You pull apart just long enough to say yes before you’re kissing him again, helping him out of his clothes, and falling into bed together. 

—

A knock wakes you. You turn over under Tyler’s arm and, careful not to wake him, rise from the bed. You grab his shirt off the nearby chair and pull it over your head, then slip on some sleep shorts before heading for the door. 

Javi smiles when he sees you, a sense of relief allowing the muscles to release their tension in his body. “Hey,” he says before his eyes fall down to your—Tyler’s—shirt. He raises a brow. 

You shrug. “I like him.”

Javi clicks his tongue. A modest sign of disapproval. “Right, well…I just came by to apologize and let you know that I kicked Scott off the team. He left about an hour ago.”

You hum in acknowledgment. At least you’ll avoid the drama of your ex figuring out you ‘fraternized’ with the leader of the other team. Being storm chasers, dramatics runs through your blood, and it’s not as if Tyler would shy away from any remarks Scott may throw at him or you, but this just happens to be one issue you’d rather not waste the energy on. It’s not his business, anyway.

“Thanks, Javi.”

“I really am sorry,” he says. “I never would’ve imagined he’d–”

“I know. Me either.”

Javi sighs in the silence that follows, then he says, “You sure about Owens?”

You nod. “I’m sure about Owens.”

“I guess we can’t be on opposite sides then, can we?”

“That would be nice,” you say. Javi gives you another smile. “They’re not so bad. I mean, I know they do stuff…differently, but they don’t leave anyone behind.” When a twinge of guilt flashes across his face, you say, “It wasn’t your fault.”

You can’t tell if he believes that’s how you truly feel, but as you nod in reassurance of that statement, he nods with you. 

“Ok,” he says. 

“Ok,” you repeat, and then with one final grin, Javi disappears down the hall. 

You close the door and strip yourself of the clothes you’d thrown on to get back into bed. Tyler’s still asleep. His breathing is soft, even, comforting, and luckily, your spot beside him has maintained its warmth from where you’d been laying all night. 

“I’m sure about you, too,” he suddenly says, voice groggy and eyes remaining closed. He lifts his arm, and you tuck yourself back into his embrace. 

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare Part. 9

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Description: Aemond arrives too late to the Red Keep to prevent the events of Blood and Cheese. His wife, who witnessed the brutal killing is left traumatised and Aemond must set aside his feelings of guilt to comfort her.

Previous part

Writer's note: I'm incapable of being concise so I've split this into 2 parts. This part picks up right after Blood and Cheese and the next part will follow the aftermath and how seeing such a traumatic event impacts on Aemond's wife. Thank you to everyone whose sent such lovely messages about the most recent part. Genuinely makes me so happy :)

Warnings: mentions of blood but nothing graphic. Depictions of PTSD. Pretty angsty but mostly hurt/comfort.

Aemond felt the blood pounding in his ears as he pushed himself to run faster to the upper levels of the keep, shoving past guards and servants alike and taking the steps three at a time. Each step he took filled him with increasing trepidation at what he would find once he reached his mother's quarters. Panicked shouts met his ears as he turned the next corridor, and his heart dropped into his stomach as he recognised the voice of Y/N, laced with hysteria among the din. He picked up his pace as he heard her shout his name, as if she already knew he was coming. He practically growled at the King's guard occupying the hall.

"Step aside." The guards immediately scattered, allowing Aemond to push past them into his mother's chambers. He had no doubt that his rage and desperation was plain to see on his face. All this seemed to fall away in the instant he saw his wife holding her knees to her chest on the floor as she frantically pushed two maesters and his mother away from her. Nothing mattered now except her, not vengeance, not the painful mixture of grief and guilt that wracked his own body.

He crossed the room in several large strides, angered by the way the maesters crowded around his wife when she was so clearly in a state of shock and pushing them forcibly away.

"What is the meaning of this? Get away from her. Can you not see she is distressed?" At his demanding tone the maesters dispersed, clearly unwilling to face the wrath of the Prince.

Alicent's looked up at the sound of his voice, a look of relief washing over her expression he couldn't understand as she rose from her crouched position by Y/N and hurried towards him.

"Thank the Seven Aemond. She'll allow no one near her and she needs the attentions of a healer." Aemond's eye never left Y/N as his mother spoke, she had not even seemed to notice him enter, her eyes seemingly glazed over as if staring at something he could not see. "Aemond she keeps asking for you."

Aemond did look at his mother then. He would have thought that he would be the last person Y/N would want near her right now....this was his fault. Nevertheless, he had heard Y/N call out for him, he was sure her desperate cry would haunt him forever. He passed by his mother, lowering himself into a crouch next to his wife before reaching out to brush her shoulder. Her glassy expression was immediately replaced by full blown terror as she flinched away from him and shrieked. Aemond quickly retracted his hand, but rushed to offer her assurances. "It me Y/N, it's Aemond. I'm here now. You're safe, I won't let anyone touch you." Y/N looked briefly confused. Though as he held his arms out towards her recognition dawned on her face. Only a moment later she had flung herself into his waiting arms, clutching at him as though for dear life as she sobbed into his shoulder. Aemond held her to him tightly, stroking her hair and whispering soothingly to her. "Sh, my love. No one will touch you again. I'm here now." Aemond felt his mother hovering next to him as Y/N seemed less likely to lash out in his arms.

She whispered into his ear, words that made his blood turn to ice. "She tried to fend off the attackers, grabbed the blade of a dagger with her bare hands to protect Helaena. Aemond, she needs to allow the maester to look at her."

Y/N had heard his mother despite her attempt at being discreet, immediately wriggling closer towards Aemond until she was half in his lap and digging her nails into his shoulders. "No" She gasped out. That decided it for Aemond.

"She said no mother. I won't have them touch her if it distresses her so. I will see to her care myself." With that he rose to stand, lifting his wife up with him as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his torso. "My sister?" Alicent closed her eyes, though tears still ran down his mother's cheek in rivulets. "Aegon is with her now. Physically she is unharmed." Aemond nodded and with one hand wrapped under Y/N's legs to support her, and the other cradling her head to his chest protectively, he strode from the room in the direction of his quarters. Y/N's sniffles, as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck to muffle her sobs, wrenched at his heart strings as they passed along the halls of the Red Keep.

He stroked her hair soothingly and tilted his head down to whisper softly.

"I know, little one. I'm taking you somewhere safe now."

All Y/N could see was red. Dark and sticky blood dripping from a dagger that glinted in the soft glow of candle light, inimical to the horrific sight before her. A gut wrenching scream pierced the quiet of the night, the rest of the inhabitants of the Red Keep still abed. She winced at the shrill sound, full of pain and anguish, before realising belatedly that it was her screaming.

Everything seemed to pass in a blur after the King's guard burst in, managing to capture one of the assailants whilst the other disappeared into the night. She was vaguely aware of someone gripping her by her arm, pulling her along hall after hall until they deposited her in another room entirely. She did not care to look around her to determine where she was or who had unceremoniously dragged her there. As soon as her arm was released her knees buckled and she fell in a heap on the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and rocking herself, her teeth chattering and limbs trembling in her state of shock.

She felt numb and it was difficult to understand what was being said to her as all the voices around her merged together as one. When she felt hands reaching for her, tugging at her own arm, it was the hands of the assailants she felt, looking down at her own hands she felt even more alarmed to see them covered in red splodges and she could not tell if it was her own blood that drenched her skin or that of the child she had come to love, brutally murdered before her. She screamed, forcefully pushing the hands from her though they kept grabbing for her. Almost without thinking Y/N found herself shouting for Aemond. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she had a vague recollection that she shouldn't be calling for him, but she couldn't seem to remember why, so muddled and panicked was she.

"Get off me. I want Aemond. Where is he?"

She looked up briefly to see Queen Alicent's large doe eyes staring at her sadly, but the faces of several men had her heart picking up in fright as she thrashed against their hold. What did they want from her? Try as she might she couldn't make out their words through her fear.

The only thought she could hold onto for long was that if Aemond were here they wouldn't dare to touch her against her will. He would help her, protect her as he always had. And his name came from her lips unbidden again.

Only a few moments later a cacophony of sounds outside the room made her wince. First pounding footsteps followed by a voice that boomed and echoed across the hall outside, then the clanging of metal signalling the movement of the guards. Y/N was breathing heavily, exhausted from her efforts to prise the insistent hands from her person, and she felt herself becoming limp. The colours in the room, of the golden flames before her and the deep russet rug beneath her converging until once again all she saw was red. Red so dark it must be blood and she could not determine whether it was real or not. She remained frozen in her horror until she felt a light touch against her shoulder, gentler than the others had been but nonetheless terrifying. Jerking backwards with a shriek, she was relieved when the owner of the hand only retracted it, speaking softly to her in words she couldn't pick out at first.

"It's Aemond."

Y/N looked up quickly at the sound of his name, her senses coming back to her as she recognised both her husband's baritone and elegant features. He'd come for her just as she knew he would, as if she had summoned him with her appellation of his name.

As soon as Aemond opened his arms to her she was falling into them, clutching at him fiercely, somehow knowing through the fog still misted over her mind that he would keep her safe. That nothing would happen to her when she was in his arms.

Tears sprung from her eyes as Aemond began to stroke her hair, assuring her that no one would touch her if she didn't want them to, that he wouldn't let them. She'd started to relax the tension in her body only for it to spring up once again as in a startled animal as she heard Alicent whispering of maesters.

She dug her nails into Aemond's shoulders, clinging to him so they would have to claw her from him if they wanted her. She barely recognised her own panicked cry "No" and worried they simply couldn't understand her. That she had lost her mind and was simply speaking gibberish, and that was why they kept ignoring her pleas for them not to touch her. Perhaps Aemond wouldn't listen to her either.

She needn't have worried. Aemond's voice was a steady anchor as he resolutely ordered the maesters away from her again, suddenly rising to stand and lifting her up with him. She quickly wrapped her arms and legs around him, not caring who saw or if they judged her for her behaviour, only pressing her face into Aemond's perpetually warm shoulder and trying to stifle her cries. She felt sick from crying, her stomach aching and she just wished for the tears to stop flowing so she could make sense of what was happening.

"I know little one, I'm taking you somewhere safe now."

Hearing his pet name for her spoken so tenderly she only cried harder, warmth and a brief sensation of security washing over her despite how scared and confused she felt.

By the time Aemond reached their chambers, Y/N's sobs had dwindled and she'd fallen silent. If it were not for the tension he could feel in her frame and her tight grip on his shoulders he'd almost think she had fallen asleep. In some ways her silence was more disturbing to him, for he could not tell what horrors plagued her mind that left her unable to voice them.

Kicking open the door and closing it behind them, trying not to jostle Y/N too much, he crossed the room and tried to place Y/N down into his armchair so he might collect some supplies he would need to treat her hands. She only clung to him tighter and he had to gently but firmly tug her arms from around his neck. "Just for a moment, my love. I won't leave you."

She let him place her down at his assurance but he could feel the heat of her stare on his back as her eyes followed his every movement as he fumbled around various drawers for what he needed. Placing the bandages, a bowl of water, and ointment he used for any cuts and scrapes he gained from training on a table, he lifted Y/N back into his arms before settling her on his lap,  wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

"I am sorry to ask it of you. But will you allow me to treat your hand, my love? It may sting a little but it is necessary."

Y/N looked inquisitively down at her own hands as if surprised to see the gash that ran across her palm, turning her head away quickly with a sharp intake of breath.

"The blood, Aemond. I can't look at it. I don't know if it's mine or the child's."

Aemond felt his heart falter. He could only imagine what his sweet and gentle wife had borne witness too, pain tearing through him for her, for his sister and for his nephew who he'd loved. He tried to focus on the fact that Y/N needed him and that this was the most she had managed to speak to him, and the most she had sounded like herself.

"You do not need to look, love."

Nodding minutely with a grimace, Y/N pressed her face into his chest, going limp in his arms as she allowed him to take her smaller hands in his own so he could assess the damage. The gash was large and had bled a lot already, but he let out a sigh of relief to see that it was not deep and had already stopped bleeding, though it looked alarming. He took a cloth and wet it with water before starting to clean the blood from Y/N's hands, routinely pressing soft kisses to the top of her head and whispered apologies as she squirmed slightly under his ministrations. He tried to be as gentle as possible, wishing more than anything not to hurt her, but knowing he had to clean the wound before any infection could take hold.

Her voice sounded so soft and quiet and vacant to his ears, like that of a ghost.

"You'll get blood on your hands." Aemond already felt there was blood on his hands borne from his actions but did not voice that fear to Y/N. He only replied "It does not matter" before taking the ointment next and methodically rubbed it over the gash, finally wrapping it with the bandages. Once he was satisfied, he brought her hand to his lips to press a tender kiss upon it.

"You did so well, my love. There is no more blood, you can look know."

Y/N withdrew from his chest to look down upon her hands, and Aemond noted that where before her eyes had seemed misted over and unseeing, likely due to shock, they were now focused and he thought she had started to come back to herself.

"I'm sorry." Her soft whisper shook him from his observations. He couldn't understand what Y/N would have to be sorry for.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Y/N shook her head frantically.

"I couldn't stop it. I tried...but they killed the babe anyway."

"Y/N No..."

She interrupted him, her words spilling from her mouth fast and filled with despair.

"I grabbed the knife from the tall one, clawed at him, I'm sure I left scratches on his face, but he just threw me aside like it made no difference at all. And now the little boy is dead. A son for a son they said."

Aemond fought to keep his own breathing steady, to maintain a facade of composure he didn't feel but knew Y/N needed to believe to stay calm herself. He felt anger pulsing within him in the knowledge that someone had hurt his wife and he'd not been there to defend her. Her words resounded in his mind. 'A son for a son.' He knew then what he'd feared from the moment the guard had told him of the attack. This was his fault. Not just because he'd foolishly and selfishly left his wife unprotected. But because he'd let his temper rule him on the day he'd flown to Storm's End, the day he'd killed Lucerys Velaryon. This act of violence was sown by his hands, the vengeance of The Blacks. His eyes flitted to his own hands, half expecting them to be drenched in blood. Luke's blood. Jahaerys' blood.

"Y/N look at me."

Her beautiful eyes bore into his own at his firm command and he kissed her forehead, wrapping both his arms around her now they were no longer preoccupied with bandaging her wound.

"Ñuha nedenka rina. You acted admirably. I will not have you blame yourself. This is my fault. Mine and mine alone."

Y/N ignored his attempts to reclaim the blame, seeming unable to stay on one line of thought for very long. He thought this must be her mind's way of coping.

"What does that mean?"

He assumed she meant the Valyrian. She'd told him once that she found the sound of it soothing and had hoped it would do so now.

"It means 'my brave girl.'"

Y/N slowly lowered herself to rest her head against his chest again her delicate fingers tracing the intricate designs of his brocade.

"You came when I called." Aemond was once again surprised by he turn of their conversation, his eye widening as he gazed down at her.

"Of course, I always will."

"Even though I shouted at you, and told you I wanted separate chambers, and said horrible things to you."

Aemond was surprised by Y/N's directness as she seemed to have fully come back to the present, remembering their disagreement. He quickly interrupted her ramblings.

"Always. Besides, you had every right to be angry with me. This is all my fault" Aemond dropped his gaze, unable to look Y/N in the eyes through his guilt.

"I don't blame you."

He met her gaze oncemore. Unable to believe that he'd heard her correctly.

"What?"

"I said that I don't blame you."

"But I caused all of this with my actions, and then left you unprotected..."

Y/N interrupted him then, pressing her hands to his face.

"You would never have done this. Not if it had been the other way around. I am right about that, aren't I?"

Y/N's expression was full of desperation and silent pleading.

Aemond pressed his hands against hers, holding them in place.

"You are right. It is an act of depravity I had never thought Rhaenyra capable of. It is something I could never do."

Y/N sagged against him, dropping her hands from his face to rest them against his chest as she let her head fall onto his shoulder.

"I know it."

His heart clenched as he felt wet droplets against his neck, and Y/N's body shake with the renewal of her tears. His own voice cracked with emotion. He wished he could take all of the pain and misery she felt from her.

"What can I do?"

"Just hold me." And so he did. Wrapping his arms around her, Aemond held her until her breathing evened out and she fell into a restless sleep. She woke regularly throughout the night, always with him there to reassure her of where she was, that he was there, and that he would not allow anyone to harm her.

Something about being in Aemond's chambers again calmed the frantic beating of Y/N's heart as she focused on it's familiarity, along with the steady rhythm of Aemond's own heart as she laid against his chest. Realising that the red covering her hands was in fact real and not a figment of her imagination almost sent her over the edge again, and it was only Aemond's reassurance that she didn't need to look as he tenderly attended to her wound himself that she was able to get a grip on herself. As he cleaned and bandaged the gash on her hand, the fog that had befuddled her senses and left her feeling confused as to what was happening around her began to diminish. She remembered how she'd injured her hand in the first place, trying to forcibly wrench the assailant's knife away from Helaena, though it did no good at all and the memories that suddenly came flooding like a dam bursting in her mind had her burying herself further into Aemond's tunic in an attempt to smother them.

Aemond. Now she remembered why she had a strange sense that she shouldn't be calling for him to rescue her. She remembered how they'd fought over Luke, how she'd asked him to stay away from her, pushed him away time and time again, and just stopped short of calling him a monster.

And yet he'd still come running when she'd called. Y/N realised she couldn't feel angry with Aemond for Luke's death any longer. It had been an accident and in truth she knew she would have forgiven Aemond eventually for she loved him, more than she thought it possible to love someone. She also could not pretend she had not observed a certain lust for vengeance within him, one that she felt she could now at last understand. She had loved Jahaerys almost as if he were her own child, and for the first time in her life she wished to inflict pain, on whoever had ordered the atrocity.  She wanted justice for Helaena, though she knew there was no vengeance that could erase the trauma they would both now share, of losing a beloved child. Y/N didn't know how to deal with the pressing grief she now felt since her mind had cleared enough for her to regain her grip on reality and she almost wished she had gone mad, just so she wouldn't have to feel as if her heart had been replaced by a gaping wound that continued to bleed out.

"What can I do?" Y/n hated to hear how pained Aemond's voice was, like that of a wounded animal.

"Just hold me"

Feeling Aemond's arms around her somehow made the pain lessen and Y/N had the sense that in a way he was holding her together.

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[seungkwanniee]

pairings : boyfriend!seventeen x gn!reader

warnings : mention of food , being lefted out , some cursing

genre : fluff , angsty (w/ happy ending)

synopsis : when they get jealous because you have a close bond with another member

an : last post went so well, im so happy yall liked it 😭

〔masterlist〕

SCOUPS 』

he is the typs to get sooo jealous

so, when you go visit them at the dance pratice room and the frist one that you hug it's not him but Dino, he is already sulking

he looks at you quickly messing with Dino hair while he waits you to notice his presence too with arm folded

"yah~, what are you doing"

he needs to speak for himself when you're taking your sweet time with the maknae you seem to love more than him

you don't even need to turn around to know that his lips are pouted because of how his words are sounding

(I have in mind that one video of Scoups sulking bc the members didn't wished him hb at midnight lol)

but deep down he is smiling because he loves the way you are so close with is friends

JEONGHAN 』

on the spot, he doesn't say anything

he would just sit on the couch with arm folded while he side eye you and Seungkwan cooking something in the kitchen

but don't ever think you will get away with that

he start to ignores your calls from the kitchen when you finally decided to give him attention too but, oh right now it's too late

he will not eat the food you prepared

or to tease you, he will eat it just to compliments Seungkwan skills

he would be a tease and ignores you until you are on your knees asking for forgiveness

this is the Jeonghan effect

he isn't even that jealous, he just wanted to tease you because you made him bored

JOSHUA 』

boi is so jealous be he will not show it

he looks at you and Jeonghan having an animated conversation about an anime he doesn't even know the existence

he feels a litte left out :(

he eat his meal in silence with a long face but when you turn to see what he is doing he will just go with his ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ face

but under the table he's clenching his fists

when Jeonghan is gone, he would be still upset and from his mouth wasn't escaping a single word

and even when you ask him what's wronf, he would come up with some excuses that you, ofcurse, don't take

he is hugging you after he found the courage to say he didn't liked your behavior

JUN 』

he looks around confused with his mouth slightly open

why his s.o. is sitting beside Minghao and not him, their boyfriend?

jun is absent the whole hangout because his mind is flying too far and thousand scenarios are going through it

he looks at your direction maybe too much, you two aren't even interacting but still

you feel his eyes on you and notice his frown expression

when you sit beside him, he feels like a kid that just got the toy of his dream

his eyes are sparkling

and when you say you got his jealousy, he will not admit it in words but his blushed cheeks will

HOSHI 』

don't mess with him when he is jealous/angry

yk that one video of him being angry with the members? yeah, well he is exactly like this

he is going insane the moment he see how you and woozi are sharing the same meal

you ofcurse asked him frist, but when he rejected you didn't thought there was something bad on asking him instead

when hoshi stands up and slams on the floor his seat, everyone turn and look at him shocked

you rarely see him angry, thats why you didn't though about your action twice. You really thought he wouldn't mind

after he forgived you and letted you promise you wouldn't do it again, like kids do, he would still pouts a little for the whole week

WONWOO 』

he is also so silent about it, but his expression every now and then shows perfectly how he is feeling

his golden retriver bsf is always so happy and close with you, but today he was doing a little too much

or maybe he was being more sensitive today

but in anycase, it was Mingyu fault

he is sorry for you that you have to listen all his yapping about everything (he is just mad jealous)

but you enjoy all his yapping too, you two are basically gossipping togheter

and that is tesing his patience because today you two were supposted to read that one book he wanted to read with you for so long

"how much this is going to last?"

he tries to ask with a soft tone, but he is so annoyed that he can't hide it

at the end, you ends Mingyu never ending yap and lay on your boyfriend lap reading that unfamous book

WOOZI 』

for once he is feeling a little more clingy today but his plans are all ruined guess because of who?

Hoshi was in his studio right when you arrived to visit him

you didn't done that much to greet Woozi as you know he doesn't like kissing or stuff like that in front of people

but what you don't know is that he would kiss you right in front of Hoshi because today he is so needy

he tries to give the third wheel boy some suggesting, but he is not leaving as he is too immersed in the silly compositions on Woozi's computer

just to add fuel you sit beside him watching how he is messing on the computer being so invested in this project

you two were laughing uncontrollably at the shit he was making

but when woozi calls you aside and tells you to find a way to get hoshi out of the studio, you get the clingy mood he is in today and practically kick him out

you are excused tho, when you'll find Woozi in a clingy mood again

DOKYEOM 』

he is OFFENDED and ofcurse his iconic pout is here

why his scoups hyung was wrapping your shoulder with his arms?

he knows you two have a close bond since you are childhood friends, but still...

leave him, he is jealous anyway for some reasons

what he didn't know is that you two were intentionally teasing him, but he doesn't notice the looks you were give him as he is now too busy at acting upset

you just wanted to see his cute pout and his nochalant act he builds everytime

"dokyeom-ah, you okay?" Jeonghan love to tease, so he jumps in

"yeah, why I wouldn't" said with a pout still on his lips

liar

MINGYU 』

a pouted and clingy dog, he isn't even mad he would be just sad

he watches how Wonwoo touches your fingers while he is trying to teach you how to play

at frist, he didn't even notice it as he was too invested on what was playing on his phone

but when he raises his head once again and finally realize how Wonwoo's hands were touching yours, he is pouting for sure

he puts away his phone and now his eyes are glued to you two

he decided to mark his territory and clinges by your side, his arm wrappped around your waist and his head layed on your shoulder

"i'll teach her" Mingyu says with his upset voice

"you don't even know how to hold a controller, Mingyu" roasted as always

MINGHAO 』

why the fuck another man is messing with his beloved

he is going crazy when he noticed how Jun is trying to make you laugh so hard, and it makes him even more angry how you laugh at every single joke

c'mon, he is way more funnier you don't need another man doing his job

he never walked to your side faster

he is acting all nochalant with his annoyed smirk writted on his face

his arm wrapped around your waist while Jun is just too involved into the story to notice the annoyance in Hao's face

"Jun, don't you think you are yapping nonstop?" he is sassy bitch

Minghao laughs a little when Jun make a shocked face, just now getting that he was being jealous

now all your attention is his

SEUNGKWAN 』

he is jealous as fuck and he isn't afraid to show it

because what do you mean Vernon growned the habit to touch ears like him and now he was doing it on you

only him, your boyfriend, can do it to you

since Vernon it's a pretty cold person, that means you two have a really really close bond like siblings, but he is still jealous

he was side eyeing Vernon that at frist didn't even noticed

but when Seungkwan come behind him and grab his hand he goes like "oh"

Vernon would be so embarassed and Seungkwan just laughs at him

now he is messing with you ears, leave them alone please

VERNON 』

he is disconnected but even when he notice something a little strage, he is nonchalant

he sees how dokyeom acts around you, but he is a sun everytime and everywhere so he doesn't mind at all

but today was a bit different, he wasn't nonchalant like the other times because you two had an argoument right before coming to dk's house

so you are basically ignoring him all the time, not giving him a look

at this point he got that you are teasing him, clinging more than the usual to dokeyeom

and when he was sick and tired of that stupid act, he suddently grabs your wrist and brought you to the other room

refuses to let you go, not until you promise him to stop with that act

DINO 』

his confused and frowned face goes hard

why his hyung was acting like that all of the sudden?

it was usual hanging out around the boys too and he is aware that you are pretty close with Joshua but not that much

but by looking at your face, he is guessing that you are confused too

he is like "hyung, what are you doing?"

at this point, the evil twins can't hold in anymore and they brust into laughter

seeing their youngest one standing up for theirself it seems too hilarious

and since you are their maknae s.o., they are bulling you too

[froggiewrites]

saw you had requests open! would you be willing to do Ace + a reader with back pain that can keep them from doing things they usually enjoy? totally cool if not! love ur stuff ^-^

Thank you for the request!! I hope you enjoy this one anon, I tried to make it sweet and comforting for you. 💙

Pain Relief

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your pain stops you from enjoying today's festivities, and Ace tries to comfort you. Warnings: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain Word Count: 1.2k

You’re having one of your bad days.

Sometimes you can push through just fine, the pain nothing more than a minor hindrance eating away at your edges while you work. Other days it’s a bit harder, holding you back from more difficult tasks, forcing you to stop and leave some things halfway done. And some days are like today, where you spend most of it laying face first on your bed, holding back tears. At this point you can’t tell if they’re from the pain or the disappointment of missing out on yet another feast, yet another party, yet another thing you cannot do.

It almost hurts more how kind everyone is about it. You’ve never asked for any kind of accommodation, but you still find your crewmates trying to help where they can. Yesterday Marco assured you he has a stash of painkillers just for you the moment you need them. You thanked him, even though they don’t seem to help much on days like this. Today, you’re greeted by thundering footsteps and the delicious smell of the feast from above growing closer and closer; Thatch has personally come to bring you a plate.

“Doing any better?” His voice is soft, hesitant to break the silence that surrounds you.

You left out a groan of pain when you attempt to sit up to face him.

“I see.” You can hear the sympathy pouring from him, as well as the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder urging you not to move. The plate appears on the nightstand right next to your head, filled to the brim with all of your favorites. Some spicy, some sweet, some savory, all of it combining into a smell so mouthwatering you’re able to bring yourself to move, if only to shift closer to your feast. “I tried to make sure I got all of your favorites. If you want anything else, I can bring it down later.” He sets a glass of water down as well.

“Thanks, Thatch. I really appreciate it.” Your voice is a little wobbly, strained from the pain, and while you can’t see him wince you can almost feel it.

“No problem. I’ll…leave you to it, if you don’t need anything else.”

You would kill for some company right now, some distraction from the pain. But you hate the idea of being a bother, of tearing anyone else away from the action you so desperately wish to be a part of, so instead of voicing your needs you simply give a pained smile. “I’m alright. Thanks, though.”

He hesitates a moment, and you wonder if he’ll stay, but he sighs quietly. “Alright. Someone else’ll be down soon to check on you.”

He makes his way back upstairs, and you manage to reach out for your plate to grab a small piece of bread, which you immediately shove in your mouth. Normally you would try to savor it, but your stomach is grumbling, and your pain is demanding your attention, and there’s tears stinging your eyes. At least with this you can pretend just for a moment that you’re on deck, feeling fine, surrounded by your friends and their warmth.

“Enjoying that?” Ace’s voice is familiar and jovial, and a shiver runs up your spine the moment you hear him. The door closes softly behind him, and in an instant you can feel his weight on the bed. His hand rests lightly on your leg, bringing you more peace than you’ve felt all day.

“Yeah.” The word struggles to get out around the bread, but you manage, and he quietly laughs at the sound and sight of your cheeks stuffed full.

“Good. You deserve it.” He picks up another piece of bread, holding it in front of your face, pushing it close to your mouth. “Come on, enjoy another.”

You swallow, then open your mouth. He delicately places the piece on your tongue, fingers brushing your lips, before he pulls back. “Do you mind some company for a while?”

“Wha?” Your mouth is still stuffed full, and he chuckles again, laying down next to you.

“Do you mind if I stay down here with you? I’ve missed you.” He’s looking at you not with the pity you expected, or any sort of sympathy. His eyes are filled with nothing but pure and honest affection as he regards you.

You nod.

“Perfect!” He leans in, snuggling closer to you. One of his hands brushes against your back, and you wince, before he presses more firmly, making you cry out and squirm. “No, just one moment. I promise it’ll help.”

You don’t understand what he means, too lost in your own discomfort, before you feel a warmth spreading from his palm and into your skin. It doesn’t make the pain disappear, but for a moment, when you close your eyes, you can pretend it isn’t there. You can focus instead on the feeling of Ace laying beside you, his large hands on your back, his quiet pleased humming as he realizes he’s been successful in helping you.

You expect him to say something about how you can’t go upstairs, how he’s sorry you’re stuck down here while everyone else has fun. Instead, he whispers, “Thank you for letting me stay.” Like you’re doing him a favor. Like his presence here is just because he wants to be.

“Thank you for staying.” Your voice wobbles with emotion, though you try to hold it back. You grab the hand that isn’t on your back, holding it close, clinging to him like a lifeline.

He chuckles. “You don’t have to thank me for that, sunshine. I’d give anything to be here with you. No one else on this ship compares. No one else in the world.” He presses closer, his nose pressing into your neck. “You’re worth a thousand of these feasts.”

You hold his hand tighter. “I still wish I could go. I was really looking forward to this one.”

“There will be other parties.”

You can’t keep the sorrow from your voice. “But they won’t be this one.”

He doesn’t deny that. “But there will be parties. And for this one?” His hand gets a little warmer, relaxing your muscles and making your eyes droop. “For this one I’ll be right here with you. And we won’t have to worry about anything anyone else is doing. You’ll be too busy enjoying my company.” He almost giggles at that last one, and you can feel his nose crinkle as he says it, smile wide and uninhibited as it presses against your skin.

"So true,” you murmur, fighting a smile. “How could I ever want anything else?” It’s almost embarrassing how much you mean it, but he can’t see the blush on your face, so you don’t bother holding back your dorky, toothy grin. You’re melting into his touch, starting to forget the loneliness, the grief at what you’ve lost tonight, however small in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that matters right now is Ace, his warmth, his touch, his voice as he happily tells you whatever silly story he thinks will catch your attention at the time. By the end of the night, curled into his side, his warm hand rubbing soothing circles onto your lower back, you almost forget about the party above deck, or any of the world outside of this room.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[idrawstuffidk]

Oh ace, oh sweetheart I am so so sorry

Ace reminds me so much of myself from middle school and high school, the anger, the feeling of isolation, the paranoia that everyone is out to get you

It hurts so so badly to feel that way. It’s why Ace was so so important to me. It’s why I loved him so much, because I saw him for who he was, someone who was deeply hurting and lonely and afraid, and he was.

Everyone pushed him to do what he did. Everyone. The only person who didn’t was Levi. Everyone hated him, but the people I blame the most for what Ace did are Veronika, Nico, and Hu.

Hu was so antagonistic towards Ace, so defensive of Nico and so delusional and I hate her so much

Veronika served to scare him further and further and say that he would be the next to die

And Nico, of course, proved her right. They tried to murder him.

What happened to Ace here, no wonder Teruko broke down a bit. It’s exactly what happened to her in the first trial, save for the fact she didn’t kill anyone. They were both almost murdered. They were both traumatized by it, they were both distrusted and hated by everyone during the trial. It’s why she must have wanted him to fight back so much. I hope she comments on that, I hope she thinks about it, I hope she feels something when Ace dies and I hope she is honest about it. I hope he reminds alive in the narrative like Xander and Min, I hope he and Arei both do.

I love Ace, now even more than ever. I cried so hard, I love him. He didn’t deserve this. That being said, I wonder what Teruko’s plan was. She said that the person to kill next would’ve the one who should carry out her plan, since it’s so high risk. I wonder what she will ask Ace to do, I wonder if he will do it.

I want a mini episode for him, I love the artwork of ace, though I do not like the closing argument ending artwork of him, not a fan, he could have looked so much better than that. I love his new sprites too. I love everything about him, really. I think he is one of my all time favourite characters, and he’s going on my “closest to kinning iv’e ever been list” right next to Nikei.

And with all that being said, thank you for reading my ranting and feelings about Ace and why I love him so so so much. And to give an update on how my OC Elenora would be doing: she’s sobbing hysterically. I’ll need to post more about her to make you understand why she is so heart broken

And on that note, I’m going to be writing a fanfiction where Elenora saved Ace because I think she could, it just takes some clever timing. It’s ok, Ace is alive and well with my lovely OC in my happy little universe.