#imagine getting so deeply offended that you make a fool out of yourself in people's asks about it

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Tw: mentions of pedophilia. Nothing graphic or detailed.

Writer: *Asserts boundaries and explains why something makes them uncomfortable*

Some of you: I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY CALLED ME A PEDOPHILE AND KINK SHAMED ME

[stargazer-balladeer]

[i] - i’ll make you fall in love with me

Word Count: 2.6k

[series masterlist] [next]

“You’re staring again, [Y/N]~” Surprised at the sudden intrusion in your fantasies, you turn your head to the side to look at your friend, Hu tao. Smiling gleefully at you with a sinister mischief dancing in her eyes. “From how often you stare at him, it’s still a wonder that he hasn’t caught on your feelings for him~” She teased while snickering. Her comment made you huff in response and glare at her half-heartedly. “Shut up.” You groaned as you returned to the subject of your affection.

He always seems so busy. The kind that rarely has time for themselves. His blue crystallized eyes scanned the words of the book at his hands, so immersed in the contents of the book. His hair falling in front of his face, which he puts them back in their place. Chuckling to yourself when he had to straighten his hair for the 7th time in the past few minutes, his annoyance growing more and more. Makes you wonder what he looks like with his hair tied back. He’s so perfect. How could someone as handsome as him exist in your world? And to add to your delight, he was your classmate. 

Hu tao sighed when she realized she lost you again, staring dreamily at the dreamboat of the school. Albedo was his name. Who was also known as the “Kreideprinz”. Good at Alchemy (Chemistry) and science. Aloof, quiet, and albeit of a loner. Has a little sister named Klee. And a female friend, who was a year younger than them, Sucrose. He was practically the definition of perfection. Almost too perfect to be exact...

“You know you can talk to him right~? He’s just a foot away from you~” Hu tao said with her usual teasing tone, taking her seat next to you, placing her hat gently on her desk. Shifting your attention away from the blonde, you leaned on your chair and sigh, a slight pout on your face. “If I talk to him, I might end up embarrassing myself. I can already hardly think properly when I’m around him..” You said, mumbling the last part. Just the thought of talking to him made your heart speed up. But the bigger problem is what would you talk to him about? Albedo is known for his boredom and uninterested personality whenever a subject is being brought up that doesn’t catch his interest. 

Hu tao hums, eyes looking at the ceiling before looking at you, as she gave you a close-eyed smile. “Well, that’s your problem now, not mine~!” “Wow. You’re such a great help, Hu tao.” Rolling your eyes playfully with sarcastic leaking in your voice while Hu tao gleefully laughs. “I only specialize in the dead apartment, not the love apartment silly~” 

“Why did you leave me, Hu tao..?” You whined under your breath as you continued to sweep the fallen leaves on the ground. Your beloved friend and seatmate decided to ditch you at the last minute saying that she has to host a funeral for her parent’s work. Sighing at your own foolishness in believing her obvious lie, you continued sweeping the leaves. The wind outside was howling loudly, making the leaves you’ve gathered dance around the air. Groaning while you watch helplessly while your hard work gets destroyed by the playful winds. But your irritation soon faded when you take in the scenery before you. The autumn-colored leaves fly through the sky, contrasting with the sky.

You continued to stare at the sky, mesmerized at the scenery, not noticing a figure going towards you. Their boots making the leaves crunch beneath them as they made their way towards your figure. Stopping behind you, taking in your figure. You continued to stare at the sky, unaware of the third party until… 

“[Y/N].” The familiarity of the voice made it obvious who it is, especially if you’ve heard it countless times before. You tightly hold the broom with your hand, trying to squeeze out the sudden nervousness you had. Voice silky and quiet yet holds power in them. Taking a deep breath, you turn your head around to meet his striking blue eyes that shine under the glowing sky. Feeling warmth spreading to your cheeks, you looked away while coughing. If you were being honest to yourself, you were slightly intimidated by his sudden appearance. 

“D-Do you need anything, Albedo?” You asked, your voice coming off as more of a mumble. Slightly embarrassed at the volume of your voice, you scolded yourself mentally. You just made a fool out of yourself. Luckily Albedo heard you, probably used to soft voice because of his shy so-called ‘apprentice’. “You see, Miss Lisa decided to make me clean outside since most people skipped out of their cleaning duties again. I was about to skip as well but Miss Lisa pulled the ‘if you don’t do what you’re told, you’re getting punished’ and we all know how she punishes people.” He paused while sighing, placing his hand on his forehead. “So, with no other choice, unless I want to suffer the wrath of a librarian, I made my way to the supply closet but found no broom there. Then I saw you with a broom. So, may I ask to borrow the broom? All I have to do is sweep a bit so that I can tell Miss Lisa that I cleaned.” He finishes his explanation. You can tell he was frustrated that the Head Librarian, Miss Lisa, made him clean instead of doing some weird experiments. 

“Ah. I see.” You mumbled while nodding your head slowly. Deciding quickly that you could use a break from sweeping so you gave him your broom. You noticed that his fingers sightly graze against yours, slightly feeling the warmth in them. Feeling this, you quickly pulled back your hand. You swear your heart started to speed up even more. What you didn’t know is that Albedo was quietly observing you. “Thank you.” He said. Wordlessly, you nodded your head in response. Albedo starts walking towards you and picking up where you left off. You awkwardly stand at the side, deciding to lean on a tree’s trunk, watching him intently. The howling wind is now quiet and gentle, enough force to make yours and Albedo’s hair fly. You watch as his blonde hair flies with the wind, making him look more ethereal. His posture refined and his actions gentle. He really seems like a prince from a fairytale.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” His voice snapped you out of your mind’s imaginations. His comment made you dread for the worst as you realized that he was staring back at you with a blank expression on his face. You stared back with eyes wide and flushed cheeks, embarrassed at being caught red-handed. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to stare.” You stammered, feeling your cheeks become hot, your heart beating erratically in your chest. Why did you have to embarrass yourself in front of him of all people? 

Tilting his head slightly, his eyes speaking volumes of his nonexistent interest in the current topic. “I can feel your stare, you know. I’m not stupid or naive.” His sharp tone made you flinch. “You’ve been staring at me so much lately. It’s starting to become annoying honestly.” Feeling your eyes sting from the rather harshness of his words, your eyes shifted to the ground as you tightly gripped your sweater. “If you have no business with me, please don’t disturb me with any of your stares from now on. Unless…” 

Walking closer to you, he placed his finger under your chin, making you look up at him. Gazing deeply at the eyes of the ocean-color, his eyes held nothing but a storm of mixed feelings. Why? “You have something to tell me?” He finished, staring deeply in your [E/C] eyes. Feeling your lips dry, you lick them as nervousness surge through your veins. Was now such a good time? 

Hearing no response from you after a couple of minutes, he sighed as he lets go of your chin. Turning around to pick up the fallen broom and giving it to you, not meeting your eyes. “I believe I’ve done my part now. You can continue the work. I’ve got to go to the laboratory now. See you tomorrow.” He said in a monotone voice, with a tint of disappointment if you listen to it carefully. As he started to walk away from you, his hair flying behind him, his hands in his pockets. This was your chance. No need to waste it. Say it now. 

“I like you Albedo.” You said with utmost confidence that you can manage to get after taking a deep breath, staring at his figure with certainty in your eyes. Gripping the broom’s handle tightly as you started to explain yourself, not at all noticing how Albedo stopped walking. “I really like how smart you are! You’ve helped me multiple times already and I’ve always wanted to repay you but I don’t know how. I like how thoughtful you are with those closest to you. Even though you’re aloof and always uninterested, I still like that part about you! You’re always honest about your feelings and—!”

“Stop.” Eyes widening at his sudden interruption, you immediately went silent. Did you say something wrong? Maybe you’ve offended him accidentally without knowing. “A-Ah.. I said something wrong, didn’t I? I’m so sor—“ “No. It’s not that.” He said, interrupting you once more. You continued to stare at him, unsure what to do. Not noticing how he took a deep breath before turning his head around to look at you with such coldness and hatred in his eyes, making you flinch. You’ve never seen him this angry or cold before. Did you really make him mad?

“I don’t like you. There. Now stop annoying me.” He said sharply, venom clearly dripping from his voice, as he turned his head around and continued to walk, leaving you dumbfounded and heartbroken. You stood there frozen, staring at where he was previously. Zhongli, who was passing by casually, noticed you standing still. Approaching you with his hands behind him, he coughed slightly, trying to gain your attention. But seeing no response from his student, he grew worried. “Are you okay, miss [Y/N]?” He asked in a soft voice. When he didn’t receive a response again, he decided to peek at your face and was surprised at the tear-filled face you have. Sniffling quietly as tears continuously flow from your eyes. He immediately went in front of you as he stares at you with sadness and pity in his eyes. “Why are you crying? Was someone bullying you? Do I have to suspend someone-?” “N-No..” you sniffled, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. “I-I’m fine. Something just caught in my eyes.” 

Zhongli knew you were crying but didn’t press it. “I see. I suppose I can accept that kind of reasoning for now. Come, let’s go to my office. I’ll brew you some tea to calm you down and then, if you want to, you can talk to me whatever troubles your mind.”

“Hey.. what happened to you~? You look as lifeless as a corpse~!” Even though she tried to act cheerful, you can hear the tint of worry behind her voice. The worry in her eyes as she stares at your rather lifeless body. You smiled at her, trying to cease her worry, but it resulted in her getting more worried for you. “I’m fine, Hu tao. I just… had a hard time sleeping yesterday. That’s all.” You said while taking a seat next to her. She narrowed her eyes at you before nodding her head. “K~ if you say so…” 

As you made yourself comfortable at your desk, you didn’t notice a pair of eyes staring at you…

“... you know you can always skip gym if you don’t feel like it. No need to push yourself so hard. Or else you might end up being one of my clients hehe~” Hu tao giggled, how she managed to cover up her concern with a death joke, you can never understand. You sighed before shaking your head. “I’m fine. I can manage myself perfectly.” Hu tao sighs, her smile dropping to a disapproving frown. “If you push yourself too hard, I’ll personally drag you to the infirmary to rest.” “Yes ma’am.”

After the teacher gave out the assigned tasks for the period, everyone dispersed to do the tasks. You decided to run first with Hu tao, but it seems like you’re slowing her down as evidence of her stopping a few times for you to catch up to her. “You can go ahead. I’ll be fine on my own.” She stared at you before sighing. “Fine. See you at the end~!” After she sped up and went ahead of you, you continued to run at your pace. But your head started to throb painfully making you stop running, holding your forehead as you wait for the pain to stop. It doesn’t help that the sun decided to give out its harsh hot rays today. Deciding to sit down to make the throbbing stop, you sat under the shade of a tree as you try to stop the pain. 

“Here.” Looking up immediately when a familiar voice reaches your ears, your eyes meet a pair of blue eyes, the same pair that held coldness and hatred within them yesterday. Your eyes trail to the outstretch bottle of water in his hand. “Take it.” He said, nudging it closer to you, urging you to take it. Hesitantly, you took it and drank it. What made you even more surprised is that he sat down next to you, letting his legs stretch on the ground with his hand on the ground as well. Feeling albeit uncomfortable at how close he is next to you, you scooted away from him a bit. Noticing your actions in the corner of his eyes, he sighed. 

“Look. I’m sorry for the harsh words I said yesterday. I didn’t mean any of them. I guess I was just frustrated that nothing was going right yesterday, I’m sorry for taking it out on you.” Albedo apologized, his eyes gazing at the scenery before you. You stayed silent, still feeling hurt at his actions. He sighed once more. “I guess I gotta go. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable or hurt than you are now.” He mumbled, standing up while dusting himself off. You stared at him at the corner of your eyes. Sensing your stare, he gave you a small smile in return. “See you later I suppose.”

Watching him go the same way he did yesterday made your stomach churn uncomfortably, the pain and sadness you felt yesterday was unforgettable. But you knew he was being sincere now. You saw how sorry he was in his eyes, and the fact he made time to apologize to you properly made your heart pound once more. I guess this is what they call love huh?

“Albedo!” Jumping at the sudden call of his name, he turned around to look at you. You were standing and smiling brightly, so bright like the sun, making his eyes widened a bit. “I like you! I know you don’t like me yet but, I promise that I’ll make you fall for me!” You exclaimed, adrenaline surging in your veins as you made your proclaim. He stared at you, dumbfounded before looking away, letting out a laugh, his hand covering his mouth. When his head turns to you once more, a glimmer of excitement and hope shines in his eyes, and a smirk settled in his usually stoic face.

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

[charliedawn]

Imagine having ran away from the Elven kingdom while being betrothed to Thranduil and returning

" Where is lady Thranduil ?! I must speak with her this instant !"

You shout while making your way to the throne room where you were sure to find Thranduil.

" Oh no..She's back.."

Thranduil pales perceptibly and even shivers at the loud voice, knowing only one fool daring to address him this way.

" Who is it, sir ?!"

One of the counsellors asks while Thranduil closes his eyes and takes a big breath of air before responding with visible disdain.

" The most annoying arrogant little vermin to ever walk this earth.."

Suddenly, the door of the throne room is kicked open and you walk in with a big bright smile.

" Hello, your majesty ! Remember me ?! How is that scar of yours ?! Still healing ?!"

He sighs loudly before ordering the other people present to leave with a slight nod of his head. When everyone is gone, he turns towards you with a fake smile.

" Lady Y/N.. What an unpleasant surprise..!How could I ever forget you ? If I remember correctly, I swore to kill you myself if you ever dared to show your face again ?"

You ignore his barely hidden threat with a dismissive wave of your hand.

" Bah ! Still mad ?! Me who thought you elves were all about forgiveness ?! And, if I remember correctly, I told you that I wouldn't come back to your lovely spooky forest unless death was upon me !"

He nods and smirks before crossing his arms over his chest.

" Well..At least you don't have a problem of memory. You look well enough..How about you see yourself out ?"

You bite your lower lip hesitantly, when he walks past you in order to leave, before turning around and shouting.

" Thranduil ! I'm dying !"

He stops dead in his tracks and turns towards you slowly with a frown.

" What did you say ?"

You sigh before looking up at him with begging eyes.

" I'm..I'm dying, Thranduil..I have been cursed by a very powerful mage. I only have a short time left and I wanted to make amends before I leave..So, please, hear me out.."

He doesn't answer and you take that as an invitation to keep talking.

" I wanted to apologize. All those years ago, I wounded you. But, you have to understand why ?! We were betrothed, while you had just lost your wife..I knew that it was unfair of my family to force an alliance so soon. I wanted to get away, and I knew that they wouldn't let me leave unless I escaped. I didn't think that you would be the one trying to stop me..I didn't know because it was dark and I thought it was a soldier that would get me back if I didn't fight back ! I couldn't have known that it was you ! I wouldn't have fought you."

He sighs before asking you.

" How long ?"

You frown before replying, visibly annoyed.

" Did you hear a word of what I just said ?! Can't you just forgive me so I can finally have peace ?!"

He turns around and walks towards you at lightning speed before yelling.

" No ! I can't ! Now, tell me, how long ?!"

You are startled by his sudden outburst and quickly answer.

" 5 days ! I've got 5 days.."

He visibly clenches his jaw and asks surprisingly calmly.

" Where ? Where did he curse you ?"

When you don't answer, he grabs your wrist and you cry out in pain. He frowns before tearing your sleeve in half and looking at the rotten skin there. He softly touches it with the tip of his fingers and you whimper. He looks up at you with a worried glance before leading you to his throne. He gets out a big book that seems to be as old as the forest itself from underneath the throne and starts flicking through the pages in search for something that could help you.

" Who was that great mage of yours ?"

You hesitate before finally admitting.

" Saruman. I tried to steal something from him.."

Thranduil suddenly looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, urging you to continue with his eyes.

" I..This is why I am here, Thranduil.."

You get out some kind of little blue fial and he rises up from his throne to look at it more closely, tilting his head slightly to observe it with more attention.

" What is it ?"

He finally asks while continuing observing it with attention, tilting his head slightly to the other side. You sigh before admitting.

" A potion of resurrection. He had it in his tour and wanted to use it to resurrect someone..I don't know who. But, when I heard that he had this kind of potion, I sneaked inside his home and stole it. But, before I could get out of there safely, he woke up and cursed me.."

Thranduil growls in annoyance at the lack of results from his search inside the book and also, at your foolishness.

" You fool ! He could have killed you ! Why would you go do something so stupid and reckless ?!"

He asks, visibly upset, and you can only shrug with a sad smile.

" Maybe because I wanted to give you a chance to be happy again ?"

He frowns in incomprehension until you explain.

" It was for your wife. It was for Evranï."

His eyes widen in shock at her name and his eyes keep going back and forth from the small vial to your face, trying to see if you were telling the truth.

" Y/N..Why ? Why do this for me ? Why risk your life for someone that you don't even know..?"

You smile pitifully at him before replying with tears forming at the corner of your eyes.

" Because that's what you do when you're in love, right ? You do everything in your power to make them happy..You may have not known until today but, I fell in love with you, Thranduil..I fell in love with you the moment I first set eyes on you during my first visit to your castle. You may not share my feelings, but it doesn't mean I have to forget about them, right ?"

He was about to answer when you start coughing loudly and cover your mouth with your hand. You then notice the blood and Thranduil seems to notice too since he is standing next to you in a matter of seconds. You fall to your knees and Thranduil is there to catch you.

" Y/N ! You told me 5 days, Y/N ! What's going on ?!"

You smile sadly before confessing.

" I may have lied a little..Saruman told me that I had 5 days to return his vial..four days ago.."

You had never seen the king cry before, it was so hard to imagine his perfect face stained by such vain things as tears..and yet, here he was, crying his eyes out over you. You stroke his cheek lovingly before forcing yourself to smile reassuringly at him.

" Don't cry, my king..This is a happy moment. I finally got the chance to help you and you will soon be able to see your beloved wife again..So, smile for me, okay ?"

You feel the intense pain gaining your heart and tighten your grip on the king's arm unconsciously. He notices and puts his own hand on yours.

" You silly woman..I won't let you die. You still have so much to do, and much more to make amends for, before I can forgive you.."

He softly says and you shake your head, the words feeling like fire every time you utter them.

" Please..Forgive me, my king..I know that I've disappointed you greatly, but please, forgive me so I can leave this world in peace..You can see it as a final act of mercy for a repentent soul ? I give you my life for your wife's..A soul for a soul..I only ask for forgiveness in return.."

You implore him and he looks at the vial that you place in his hand. He then glances back at you with a sad smile, cradling your face and kissing your forehead lovingly.

" I can't forgive you, because there is nothing to forgive..You were afraid and needed someone to believe in you. I’ve let fear and sorrow blind me from my duties towards you. Letting you think that your life had any less value than the one of my deceased wife was my mistake. I should be the one begging for forgiveness, not you. This is why, I can't accept your gift.."

He approaches the vial to your lips and you open your eyes wide at his intent. You close your lips tightly, knowing that if you were to drink it, the queen would never be reborn. He grits his teeths before grabbing your face and pressing his fingers against your cheeks, trying to make you open your mouth, unsuccessfully.

“ I refuse to let you die, Y/N ! Now, drink, you stubborn woman !”

He shouts, but you shake your head and wiggle too much for him to be able to force you to drink the potion with the vial. He finally sighs in, what you thought was, defeat before looking up at the ceiling and whispering.

“ I’m sorry my beloved, but I can't let an innocent girl be the price of my selfishness.”

You frown in incomprehension until you see him drink the potion before pouring it down your throat. You try to push him away, but his lips are sealed to yours and he doesn’t step back until you’ve swallowed every last drop of the potion. Then, and only then, does he step back to look at your arm, making sure that the healing process had begun. He smiles satisfactorily at the skin taking back its original condition.

“ You see ? In a couple of days you’ll be on your feet again.”

He says, but you don't answer and she he looks back at you, he sees that you've blacked out. He smiles before kissing your forehead again.

" Sleep well, my little spitfire."

A couple of days later :

As soon as you are awake, you storm inside the throne room with only one person in mind : Thranduil. When he sees you arrive, he smiles, but unlike his previous thoughts on your reaction when you would eventually wake up, he finds you angry and with tears in your eyes. Before anyone could stop you, you walk towards the king with determination and slap him across the face so hard that the sound resonates around the throne room. His surprise turns into anger and he was about to yell at you for your behavior when he sees that you are crying.

" Why did you do that ?! You kingdom needs a queen !”

He suddenly understands what you are so upset about and before he could answer, you crumble at his feet. You grip the bottom part of his robe and starts sobbing, hiding your face in the piece of cloth. He sighs before forcing you to look at him, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger to look deeply into your teary eyes.

“ You made a mistake.”

You suddenly stand up and yell, obviously offended.

“ Who said it was a mistake ?! I gave you what you always wanted !”

He frowns before standing up as well and glaring back at you.

“ I do say it is a mistake because you made a reckless decision that could have led you to your death ! Your life belongs to me! Don't you dare forget again ! You'll die when I see fit ! You really thought that coming in here and dying on my floor would make me happy ?!"

You open your eyes wide and hold back the tears that were threatening to come back. He regrets his sudden outburst nearly instantly and straightens up to add.

" But, as a queen, you are to learn from your mistakes and make good use of them.."

You grit your teeths before replying confidently.

" I am no queen ! I am a warrior ! I have spilt blood and done things..things that would only bring you down with me. Why want me as a queen ?”

He sighs before turning towards you with a sad smile.

" What makes a queen ? A queen learns to survive, and even if her hands are red with the blood of her enemies, her heart will always be pure, for it beats for her people. A queen can have moments of weaknesses, as any other creature on earth, but she learns from her mistakes. As I have learned from mine. Don't you think I already thought about running away ? Leaving my duties, my son and my kingdom behind ?"

You frown before asking.

" Then why didn't you ?"

His eyes turn grey for a moment and he looks at his thrown before answering truthfully.

" I admit that I was upset at first when my advisors urged me to find a new wife, casting aside the memory of my sweet Evranï. But, having no choice, I had to make a decision. I traveled to every land in order to find that being that would be able to take my love's place on the throne by my side..When I thought that all hope was lost and that I would never find such a person, I found you. I saw you near the weeping willow, as still as a statue and listening to the wind with your eyes closed. I found myself wondering what you were waiting for and sat on the ground until the sun disappeared behind the hills, only then did you move and, to my astonishment, you started dancing with a sword in your hand. Your gestures were so precise and calculated, as if you could slash the wind itself in two. Only a few days later did I finally get an explanation to your particularly odd behavior from one of the villagers, you were training to slay a monster that was killing villagers in your land that nobody had ever seen, but that those who had survived described as fast as the wind. I wanted to laugh at the ridiculous theory, but couldn't bring myself to and decided to wait to see if you would succeed, certain that nobody could slay such a beast. But then, one day, you came in the inn where I was staying with a large victorious smile, covered in blood and carrying the body of the beast on your back that had a wide range of pointy teeths and a very distinctive fur color, one that I had never seen before..Blue with yellow stripes. I remember feeling a sudden wave of pride and respect towards you. Such dedication, patience and strength are what I always thought made a queen. That day, I knew that you would be the only one I would ever accept to rule side by side with.."

You open your eyes wide at the revelation before remembering that there was no weeping willow near the castle and this is when you recall your childhood weeping willow, the one that you used to come to think and imagine what the world would be like outside of your little town. You look up at Thranduil with wide eyes full of admiration, realizing that he had always been one step ahead of you, already knowing you before you even set foot into his kingdom. Thranduil only chuckles at your startled expression.

“ You didn't think I would let some random stranger choose the woman I would be spending the rest of my life with, did you ? Who do you think invited you to the castle in the first place ? You may have chosen me, but I chose you first, my queen..”

He suddenly kneels on one knee in front of you and you blush vividly before hitting his shoulder.

" Get up ! You could have told me ! I thought that you didn't even know my name until I escaped !"

He chuckles again before getting up and leaning in so close that you could stare deep into his beautiful blue eyes. He then proceeds to whisper in the shell of your ear.

" Do not misunderstand. Try to escape again ? And I'll break your legs. Understood, my dear ?"

You shiver at his threat and nod vividly, gulping loudly at his sudden change of demeanor. He smirks at you, satisfied with your answer, before walking towards the exit with the same usual elegance that all elves seem to possess. It takes you a while to react and when you do, you turn around to yell.

" Hey ! Come back here, you tall drama queen wannabe ! I'm not finished with you yet !"

He only laughs before replying with a sing-song voice.

" Welcome home, my queen !"

You huff in annoyance, but can't help smiling at the end. King Thranduil wasn't an easy elf..But, you wouldn't have him any other way. He made you keep going and even if he was harsh in his lessons, you knew that the harsh truth was always better than sugar-coated lies. During your many travels, you had met many different people in many different lands, but none ever compared to the elf king who could be as cold as ice, but also as hot as the sun that shined high in the sky. He always was one step ahead from everyone and even if you were to rule by his side until the end of your life, you would surely never succeed in understanding him.

He suddenly stops in the corridor and turns towards you with a knowing smile.

" Well ? Aren't you coming ?"

You smile and nod before running towards him.

" Thranduil ?"

You would later ask.

" Yes, my queen ?"

He answers before looking down at you while you smile devilishly at him.

" Since I am to become queen, does that mean that I can call you lady Thranduil all I want now ?"

He sighs exasperatedly before rolling his eyes playfully.

" I would rather not, especially in front of my advisors or subjects..but when have you ever taken my opinion into account ?"

You laugh happily before closing your fingers on his hand.

" Who knows ? Maybe I was following your plans from the beginning ?"

He chuckles before smiling mysteriously at you.

" And how did you come to this fascinating conclusion ?"

You look back up at him before replying.

" I just remembered that I was wearing the fur of the beast the night that I escaped..As you said it yourself, of a very "distinctive color", one that nobody could have mistaken.."

He understands and grins at you.

" Looks like I've been exposed..Well played."

You smile widely before winking cheekily at him.

" A queen knows how to learn from her mistakes.."

[writingsweetroll]

**Summary: Louis has worries for his one year old, and Clementine soothes them by opening up about her own issues.**

Louis tried his best to not toss and turn, he really hated these beds. They were so springy, you do anything on it, so much as lay a hand on the mattress and it would make a springy noise. The noise wouldn’t annoy him as much if Clementine wasn’t laying beside him, he quickly found out she was a very light sleeper. It broke his heart that she wasn’t born a light sleeper, she just adapted to being one due to all of the trauma she faced. He wanted to make sure she got as much sleep as she could- so tossing and turning would definitely awaken her and that was the last thing he wanted.

So, he lay stiff as a board. Looking above to the mattress above him. He anxiously counted the number of bars holding the bed above him, distracting his mind to the best of his abilities. Because every time he couldn’t sleep at night, his mind went to dark places. *You have no idea what you’re doing.* He would think. That main thought spiraled out of control to other thoughts. But, that one main thought started from the time he was child, to now. It adapted to whatever situation he was in. As a child, ‘You have no idea what you’re doing’ related to the spelling bee, now, it is related to parenting his one year old daughter.

He grabbed the chair next to the desk, and placed it near the bed. He sat on it and watched her sleep soundly. A warm feeling was felt in his chest, unknowingly smiling ear to ear. He examined her features, and the midnight moon shone upon her face. She mainly had Louis’ features, his freckles, skin color, and eye shape. But, her lashes were full and her eyes were as golden as Clementines, her hair was also kinky just like Clementines. She was a perfect mix between the two.

*You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?*

Louis furrowed his brows as the thought entered his mind. No matter how many baby books he read, or conversations with Clementine he had about how to raise a baby into childhood, his mind was never satisfied with himself.

*To put your girlfriend through so much pain during her pregnancy, so selfish to bring a kid into this world, you’re a monster.*

That wasn’t true. Louis knew it. It wasn’t a mindless decision or an accident, it was multiple conversations and respectful debates about when or if they should start a family. After weeks, they decided together that they wanted a family, and they had enough resources to do so. And the pregnancy went better than expected, minor pain here and there, and the delivery had no scares. Thankfully, whenever Louis would remember this, it seemed as if thoughts grew quieter, and instead he imagined a world where the apocalypse wasn’t here. He wondered what her parents would think of him, or Lee, even Kenny. He didn’t know much about them, but he knew enough to know she cared deeply for them.

Suddenly, his daughter sniffled, causing him to go into panic mode. He calmed himself down once she went back to her normal state. It was spring, and it was just allergies but he was still terrified of her getting sick. Louis sighed, slouching against the chair now.

Although Louis truly thought he didn’t know what he was doing, he knew one thing. He’ll never be like his parents. His father, manipulative and a gas-lighter. His mother ignored it and was just focused on her public image instead.

*“Chin up, baby.” His mother whispered down to him. “Play your little piano and smile.”*

*His mother’s tone was sweet, and caring. But Louis wasn’t stupid. He knew his family milked his skills during fancy business parties like these ones. But, he played the piano nonetheless, because this was the only time he could truly feel like he had an audience that enjoyed his talent, his dream.*

*“My son! Ladies and gentlemen!” Louis’ father widened his arms towards Louis playing the piano. Families of prestigious wealth clapped for him. In this moment it was bitter sweet, should he feel happy that people enjoyed his music, or should he feel angry that his parents only supported him if it benefited them? Louis brushed off the confusing feelings and instead put his emotions into his music, making it authentic and oddly charming.*

*“Beautiful, Mandisa.” A woman patted his mothers shoulder. “You’ve raised a wonderful son.”*

Louis slightly groaned in irritation. ‘*They raised a horrible kid.’* Louis thought to himself. Now that he was older, he realized that he shouldn’t have beat himself up as much as he did when he was 17. Guilt had always occupied his mind when he thought about what he did, how he broke up his parents. But in reality, they raised him like that. They raised him to think of yourself first, not others. Survival of the fittest.

*“Please, I have a family William!”*

*Louis sat on the couch with his mother, they were just chatting when they heard the commotion coming from the office room. His father opened the door and held his hand out. “You’re not needed anymore, Mark.”*

*“I-I’m not needed?! Are you serious!? I helped you start this business, what the fuck man?!”*

*“But- Mark. You seem to forget. People like me. People like my beautiful ‘exotic’ wife, people love my son. What do you have Mark? A regular housewife, who’s pregnant and unattractive? A son who doesn’t excel in school? He doesn’t even have a talent to show off. You’re dragging me down. You understand, don’t you?”*

*“Excuse me?! The fuck did you-” Mark gulped as a security guard walked up behind him. “Fine.” Mark muttered.*

*The guard escorted the man out. Louis’ father looked at Louis with a smile, as if he didn’t just ruin someone’s life. “See son,” he started. “-sometimes, we have to make the hard decisions to get what we desire. It’s just business. Nothing personal.”*

Business came first, passion and feelings came last. That way of life ruined his childhood. He believed from a young age hurting others to get what he wanted was ok.

He gently stroked Willows head, *‘I’ll never teach you that.’* He thought to himself. No matter what, he’ll always make sure she knew it was ok to express herself, to talk about her feelings. He wanted her to know that no matter the situation, she was loved and *accepted.*

“I promise.” He whispered. “I promise I’ll give you a better life than mine.”

Suddenly, he felt slender arms wrap around his neck, a semi-heavy weight on his shoulders. He smiled, hearing Clementine mumble something out of exhaustion.

“What was that, darling?” Louis asked, holding her forearm.

“You’re doing great.” She yawned. “You don’t have to keep worrying Louis. You love her and that’s—“

“The bare minimum, Clem.” Louis cut her off.

“-not really. Not anymore.” Clementine said sadly. “Even back then, dads used to run out on their kids, unable to either provide a stable life or love. You could’ve ran out so many times, so many opportunities and you didn’t.”

“Why would I ever do that?” Louis replied, almost offended.

“I’ve seen it happen before. Of course I knew you wouldn’t but…there’s always that lingering exit you can take, and the urge is probably there for you-“

“Clementine.” Louis said sternly, waking her up a little. “I would *never* do that. Do you really think that?”

Clementine stayed quiet. In reality, no. Of course she knew Louis would never leave. It was just her inner insecurities popping out, she’d hidden it for years but it came out eventually. The *constant* fear that she would be alone again lingered in her mind. Louis noticed her silence and sighed. He got off his chair, and then hugged her tightly.

“Isn’t it crazy?” Louis chuckled.

“What?”

“How we only started dating a month into knowing each other.” Louis started, caressing her arm a bit. “Now, we’re in a family together. Clementine, I didn’t fight a war with you, fell for you in the middle of it, wrote songs about you, spent literally almost every second with you for the past 4 years to just leave.” Louis reassured.

“But now we have a kid.”

“Even more of a reason to stay. I mean *who* can actually say they have a kid with the most beautiful, bad-ass woman of the apocalypse world? Only me! I’d be a fool to run from that.” Louis joked.

She shook her head, a big smile on her face. Louis kissed the top of her head, pushing her slightly towards the bed, there he dropped her on it. She got into a comfortable position, and Louis lay next to her.

“I was serious.” Clementine broke the silence. “When I said you’re doing great. It’s not only the love you have for her Louis. You don’t even go to sleep before she does. Even though I tell you I got it. You care deeply for her and that *is* enough.”

Louis sighed, twiddling his fingers with one another, only staring at the bars above him. “I know. Thanks. Sometimes it just feels like I’m not enough, even before Willow.”

“Louis…” Clementine muttered sadly. The thought of him degrading himself saddened her. She sat up, grabbing his curious glance. Clementine took off her oversized sweater, a tank-top underneath. There was enough moon-light to see the faint, pink branded mark on her arm. She slid her fingers over it slightly, a grimace appearing on her face.

“You finally gonna reveal the meaning behind that?” Louis chuckled, over the years, she’d always refuse. ‘*The past doesn’t matter.’* She’d say.

Although he was joking, she wasn’t.

“I got this when I was 13.” Clementine started.

Louis shifted himself upwards, a frown shown on his face as he eyed the scar.

“I only did it to make sure AJ was safe. But, then he got ripped apart from me in the same group. After that, I had nothing more to lose. And when you have nothing to lose…you do scary, stupid things. I was horrible, Louis. I wasn’t the same person you know today.”

Louis nodded, taking in her words to the best of his ability. Trying not to react negatively in anyway.

“After I got AJ back—I only had *him.* If anyone ever—and I mean, *anyone* tried anything to hurt or kill him, I wouldn’t hold back. Yes I love AJ. I really do, but that feeling of hopelessness for your own self is so damaging.” Clementine opened up. After a brief moment of silence she continued. “I didn’t have hope for my own life, only for his. I didn’t mind if I got bit, as long as he was safe, I didn’t care. Not because I was sad or anything but because I just felt like this world wasn't for me. When I was a kid, I loved to be social, playful even. I've changed so much, I was forced to. I used to be innocent. Now, I'm finally getting some sort of my old self back."

Clementine grabbed Louis’ hand and squeezed it slightly. “You saved me.” She said, her tone hoarse. Louis squeezed back on her hand.

"I'm glad to be of service." He smiled at her. “I love you.”

She smiled, and kissed his cheek. “I love you too, Louis.”

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Only Growing | Five Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Five Hargreeves x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.6k

✦ summary — Five and you get a second chance. Like everything with The Hargreeves, it’s more complicated than it sounds.

✦ warnings — angst, spoilers for season 2 (the story doesn’t follow canon, though), mentions of violence, mentions of food, language, fluff.

✦ a/n — the brief text in italics is a flashback.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You were used to silence. Diego had never been one for staying home doing nothing. Sometimes he would leave you a note that said not to wait up for him if you were lucky, but you never had the pleasure to get home from work and have your boyfriend there.

Ex-boyfriend now. He had found himself someone else. Years had passed for him when a mere day went by for you.

You had been a fool, thinking things would finally go your way. Ever since Five disappeared, life proved you time after time how unlucky you were.

Nonetheless, you understood. No one had understood Diego better than you had, it was the reason why your relationship had lasted.

Diego hadn’t been a dick about it. He offered to give you time, reminded you to get closer to your best friend, and apologized for something that hadn’t been his fault.

He had said, “Talk to Five.” If only it was that easy. Five hadn’t visited you yet — according to Luther, who had driven Diego to your place so he could pack his things and introduce you to his new girlfriend, Five needed to take care of something first.

It was no secret that you would do anything for Five. Certainly not to Diego who many times had reproached you for missing his brother so intensely to the point of neglecting him.

You loved Diego, how couldn’t you? But you had never been capable of hiding how much you missed Five. Just like you weren’t capable of hiding how much seeing him with someone else hurt.

He had promised he would never leave and days later you had watched him carry his belongings to the doorstep with another woman by his side.

Now you were forced to fall asleep in a silent bedroom at a house too big for one person.

Woken up by incessant knocking on the front door, you grumpily walked down the stairs. Every single one of your acquaintances knew your schedule was hectic so you weren’t expecting any of them.

Swinging the door open, you were greeted by a tall man. His green eyes shined as he buried his hands in his pockets.

You didn’t understand why he was expecting you to speak first, or how a man could have such soft-looking hair.

Shaking the latter thought off, you asked, “Can I help you?”

“It’s me.”

“That... doesn’t answer my question.”

He sighed loudly. “I’m Five, you idiot.”

You crossed your arms. “Oh, yeah? And I’m a Nobel Laureate.”

“Ask me something only Five Hargreeves would know.”

You glanced past his shoulder, making sure there was no one nearby. “What’s the last thing I told you before you left back when we were kids?”

He lowered his head. “That you needed me.”

”You can’t attempt traveling through time! What if something goes wrong?”

Five shook his head. “I’m not stupid. Everything will go smoothly.”

You weren’t stupid either. Many things could go wrong. He could get lost, he could ruin the timeline, he could exhaust himself to the point of death...

“Five, please. I need you here with me,” your voice broke.

You couldn’t decipher the look he gave you. A blue flash of light blurred with your tears.

You dropped your arms and stepped to the side to let him in. “Why didn’t you use your powers?”

“I didn’t want to startle you,” he yelled from the kitchen.

You followed the sound of his voice. Some things never changed, it seemed. He was hovering over the coffee machine, tapping his thumbs against the counter.

“Since when do you care about scaring me?”

“Since my stupid brother taught you self-defense.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging the fridge door open. “You’re a trained assassin.”

“We both know I would never hurt you.”

Well, thank God. You would’ve been dead decades ago if he was willing to hurt you more than he had already.

Changing the subject, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice. “How come you look like that now?”

“Should I be offended?”

“You looked like a teen a few days ago,” you defended yourself.

Five’s semblance softened. “I guess one of the things we did to mess the timeline worked in my favor.”

“You ruined the timeline?”

“A little bit.”

Sensing he didn’t want to talk about it, you dropped bread into the toaster.

He offered you some coffee, but you declined. The last thing you needed was getting more anxious than you were already.

Five tilted his head. With a sigh, he put the cup down and opened his arms. “Come here.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. His willingness to give affection didn’t come easy, and your eagerness for his attention had always been constant.

Arms around him, you rested your head on his shoulder. Five rubbed your tense back with one hand, pulling you closer with his other arm.

You squeezed him tight, trying your best to keep your tears in.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Five had always persuaded you to do anything he wanted. Never something that would put you in danger although on some occasions you had gotten hurt by accident, but always things you wouldn’t do if it weren’t for him.

Attending one of his family reunions was one of those things. But he had asked nicely.

He had said it would be something casual, you wouldn’t have to stay for too long. He just needed someone beside him to ground him in case a fight broke out.

Once you were ready, he dropped the book he had been reading onto your coffee table and offered his hand.

You took it without even thinking about it, giving him a squeeze to assure him you were ready to teleport.

Your stomach flipped at first. An underlying tickling appeared in the lower area of your abdomen. His powers had always had that effect on you, and you had missed the sensation deeply.

Not having visited The Academy since Five disappeared, you found yourself in awe of how little it had changed.

“How are you not throwing up right now?”Allison asked, pulling you into a hug.

“She had enough training as a kid,” Five answered for you, carefully dropping your hand.

Klaus giggled. “I forgot you two sneaked everywhere together.”

As you parted from Allison, you shared a look with Five. You had always thought it was a well-kept secret that every time you felt sad or Five had a nightmare he would sneak into your room or sneak you into his.

You hugged Klaus next, then Vanya. Luther was in the kitchen, Diego and Lila in the living room.

Greeting your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend as warmly as you were capable of, you took a seat next to Five.

Seeing Diego with Lila didn’t hurt. Not like you imagined it would. His demeanor had changed from what you could tell, he looked calmer, happier. You were glad, the people you loved and their happiness were important for your own wellbeing.

In fact, you were more than glad. The Hargreeves siblings seemed to have gotten closer, their bickering was only that now — Luther was more open, warmer; Vanya participated in conversations, finally smiling around her family.

Five looked comfortable, too. Laughing loudly at Klaus’ antics. His eyes shined as he turned to look at you, laughter still intact. You couldn’t help but join him.

“Five,” Allison called for her brother, “my car broke. Can you take me home?”

He searched for your acknowledgment and held your gaze, twisting his mouth upward. You blinked slowly, assuring him you could handle it. Five gave you a sharp nod, standing up in a quick motion.

Diego refilled your glass. “You’ve got a shot with Five now...”

You let out a shaky breath. “Don’t tell him anything, please.”

“He deserves to know.”

You knew he did. His shock when he found out you were daring Diego had kept you up for days.

Five’s arrival saved you from saying anything else. He fixed his hair as he sat back down next to you, glaring at Diego who had still been staring at you, waiting for a good explanation.

You didn’t have one.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

The TV in the living room was on when you got home from work. Laying on the couch, hands tucked under his cheek, you found Five fast asleep.

He hadn’t told you he would visit. He must’ve dropped by impromptu.

Covering him with the blanket he had tossed to the side, you muted the TV. He would probably need the light when he woke up to go to the bathroom.

He grabbed your hand before you could leave. Wincing, you whispered, “Go back to sleep.”

“How was work?” He sleepily asked.

“We can talk in the morning. Get some rest.”

“Did you have a good day?”

Desperate for Five to get a few more hours of sleep, you nodded.

He didn’t let go of your hand, curling up on the couch. Whispering his name, you shook your wrist so he’d loosen his grip.

He mumbled something, but you didn’t understand what it was. His face was red, eyes glued to the ceiling.

“Mmmh?” you prompted him to say it again.

“I needed you with me too.”

You kneeled on the rug, resting your chin on the arm of the couch. “You could’ve taken me with you.”

Scoffing, Five shifted on the couch to sit up. He let go of your hand, burying his fingers in his hair, tossing the dark locks to one side as he gripped them.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You weren’t there. You didn’t watch everyone you love lying dead at your feet.”

“I had to lose you,” you reminded him, “and my parents in the span of two years.”

He whistled by mistake as he inhaled.

You didn’t let him speak. “I lived through hell staying with my uncle, you know how much he hated me. And I hated college but it was better than staying with people who blamed me for my mother’s death.”

“And then you chose Diego.”

“What does Diego have to do with anything?!”

“The last thing you said to me was that you needed me, but you still moved on.”

Calling it moving on was an insult. You had been willing to put your life on hold in case he came back, to be alone until he miraculously appeared one day and filled the void.

That was what lead you to Diego. Both of you were aware of the reason why you attracted the other — it hurt at times, not having your partner all for yourself, but you couldn’t complain when you weren’t completely his.

“You think I didn’t wait for you?” You chuckled bitterly. “Five, I swore we would get married and have a perfect life. But everything is easier at thirteen.”

He mocked you, “Oh, and you thought Diego would give you the perfect life you wanted?”

“No!” you yelled. “I just... I woke up, I guess.”

Five turned to his side to look at you. “Fall asleep again.”

“Five...”

“Do it. I’ll make it right this time.”

Your voice betrayed you by breaking. “What if you have to disappear again?”

He squeezed his eyes closed. For once, Five didn’t have an answer to your inquires, not even a sarcastic one.

You sniffed.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, placing his hands on top of yours. “Don’t cry, please. I hate seeing you like this.

You twisted your hands so your palms would be against his, fingers finding their way between his nimble ones. “I don’t want to go through all of that again.”

“I’ll take you with me if I have to,” he promised, dropping his head on top of yours.

He just wanted to stay there, inhaling the scent of your perfume. Five felt safe with your hands in his, actually safe — he could close his eyes and not worry about horrendous flashbacks,

You were there with him, not dead on the ground next to his siblings. He caressed the back of your hand with his thumb, drawing circles on your soft skin.

“My knees hurt.”

Laughing softly, he moved away from you so you could stand up.

Five followed you with his eyes, twisting his body as you sat down beside him, rubbing your palms against your knees.

You gazed at him with watery eyes, bringing your hand to his face, tracing his jaw. God, you used to annoy him when you were kids, telling him he looked ugly every time he clenched it.

Smiling at the memory, you felt the movement of his muscles as he mirrored your smile.

“You still have dimples,” you told him, removing your hand so you could look at him properly.

He hurried to take your hand again, palm against the back of yours as he gripped it.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“You’re avoiding giving me an answer,” he observed, grip tightening around your hand.

You shook your head effusively. “It’s no secret I would follow you to the end of the world. Literally.”

“But this...” Five breathed out, “this is more than that, (Name).”

“You can’t even say it,” you mused, “and here I am, willing to give you everything I have and more.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek. “Don’t be stupid. It’s mutual, and I have no problem with expressing the way I feel.”

“What did you mean by ‘more than that’, then? Do you fear for my safety?”

“No.” He quickly rectified, “I do worry about your safety, but I’m capable of keeping both of us safe. I meant... things beyond being in danger and getting worried. That’s easy for us.”

You nodded against his warm palm, sensing he had more to say.

”I want normal things for us, good things. I don’t know how well I will do. I need you to know that, to be okay with me.”

It was like seeing that thirteen-year-old again, desperate to have the approval of his authority figure.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was ten,” you confessed through a breathy laugh. “You were insufferable, but I didn’t care. I’ve always been okay with you, even when you were an asshole to me.”

“I was trying to get your attention.”

“I know that now.”

His eyes, full of emotion, focused on yours. You didn’t care if he wanted to make sure you weren’t lying, taking offense would’ve been dismissing everything he had gone through.

His eyes fell onto your lips. “Should I...”

“If you want.”

Bumping your nose as he dove in, he caught your lips between his in a clumsy kiss. You held the back of his head with your free hand, pulling him closer.

He let you guide him, getting more confident as he went on. You tilted your head to the other side, sliding your hand off his to place it on his shoulder.

Before pulling away, you gave him short kisses. Feeling him smile against your lips had to be the best thing in the world.

Suddenly, he remembered, “Hey, did you eat anything for dinner?”

“No...” Before he could chastise you or complain, you asked, “Do you want a sandwich?”

“Sure.”

You gave him a final short kiss. “Pick a movie, yeah? Whichever you want.”

“God, I love you.”

Five’s love for you had only grown throughout all those years. Thinking about the time you had spent together as kids kept him going; it had been a bittersweet coping mechanism.

Nothing compared to his love for you growing with you there.

He didn’t know how he had survived without the swelling in his chest upon watching you make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from across the room while he waited for you to press play on the first movie he found.

He only knew he would never let go of it.

[holylulusworld]

Strange Love

Request: Would you write for Dr. Strange & Reader? If yes, reader is his wife & before the accident he never respected her, even though she is a Dr like him, he belittles her, doesn't talk to her, feels ashamed. Later becoming the master, he sees her through portal that how dedicated she is & how dearly she loves him. All fluffy & maybe a passionate love making?

Pairing: Dr. Strange x Reader

Characters: Christine Palmer, Ofc

Warnings: angst, abandonment, Stephen being a douche, accidents, arranged marriage, smut, unprotected sex, comforting, fluff, remorse

A/N: Okay, this is my first-time writing smut for Dr. Strange.

“Why weren’t you at the gala with Stephen?” Christine, your best friend asks. “We were all wondering why you did not attend.” Blinking a few times, you must process what your friend just said.

“Gala, oh-yes. I had a terrible migraine and told Stephen to go alone, you know  I didn’t want to ruin his night with my stupid problems,” you lie, not meeting your friend’s eyes.

“Sorry to hear,” Christine stiffens a smile, knowing you lied again to hide Stephen did not tell you about the gala last night. “How about we have a girl’s night next weekend?”

“I don’t think you should waste your precious time, Christine. Don’t you want to become the second-best?” Your husband smirks, not sparing you a glance. Anytime you talk to one of his colleagues he acts as if you do not exist.

Stephen always gives you the feeling that he belittles you, not taking your career seriously as you are only a pediatrist to him. You love working with children, saving their life’s but to Stephen, it is not the job his wife should have chosen. 

Even though you are a doctor, had the best grades he acts as if you are not smart enough to talk to one of the neurosurgeons.

“I am better than you one day,” Christine smirks, not caring Stephen glares at her. “Even Y/N could beat you, but she chose the best job ever, saving the lives of our future.”

Stephen sneers, shaking his head he shrugs your talent off like it is a burden to hear someone talk about you and your work. 

“Do you know how I became the best, Christine,” your friend groans and you give her a weak smile knowing Stephen will not give up.

“Enlighten me, Dr. Strange, tell me your secrets,” while you mouth a goodbye to Christine she gives you as sad smile, not liking your husband ignored you again.

“Study and practice. Years of it.” Stephen muses, not recognizing you left the table minutes ago. “You should follow my example.”

“No thanks,” huffing Christine gets up to point toward the empty chair. “I don’t want to become like you, heartless and oblivious to the only person loving you, Dr. Strange. Stop treating her like she’s a liability.”

“Listen, not that this is any of your business but I'm using trans-sectioned spinal cords to stimulate neurogenesis in the central nervous system, and she puts broken legs into a cast or cures a cold,” Stephen replies coldly.

“Why did you marry her if there is no respect or love on your side, Stephen? This is ridiculous, even for you. Everyone was missing your wife last night, everyone but you.” Christine storms off.

Arranged marriage. Stephen never thought he would end up chained to the foreign woman in his bed. He never found the time or energy to get to know you better.

When his mentor, the man at his alma mater offered him the position at the hospital if he marries you, Stephen took the chance. Now years later he still got no clue who you are, and honestly, he’s not interested in finding out.

“Do you have to go to work? Do you want me to make you breakfast?” sleepily you turn around to find Stephen half-way out of the room, not answering your question. “I get it…”

Days passed without Stephen sparing you a glance. You wanted to tell him about the new position your boss offered to you.

Knowing it’s useless to even mention anything according to you or your job you keep the good news to yourself.

Usually, you would have offered to make dinner but knowing Stephen will refuse to join, you left the house to aimless walk around town.

Panicked you run through the hallway, try to find anyone who can tell you what happened to your husband. 

“Christine,” panting you run toward your friend. “What happened?”

“Stephen had an accident, it looks, bad,” she whispers, not meeting your eyes. She can hear desperate sobs leave your lips believing your husband will die. 

“No, god no, Y/N. He’s not going to die, but his hands got damaged and no one is as good as your husband.”

“He will live, anything else doesn’t matter to me,” you sniffle. Christine bites her tongue, not saying what’s on her mind.

Months spend with research; expensive experimental treatment and no results took a toll on Stephen and you. He is moody, always offended when you try to help him.

When you suggested taking the job as a professor your father offered to him Stephen threw things at you calling you things which never left his lips before. Now you barely talk to him, only make sure he eats.

Before you believed Stephen will turn toward you one day, that he will need time to get to know you better. You even believed his accident could be the chance for you to prove you will stand by his side no matter what.

Stephen had other plans…

He’s gone for months now. Stephen said something about a healer and left without looking back. You took the new job to pay the debts Stephen left before running off to find a non-existent healer.

“Y/N, Sweetheart you should think about my words. Divorce Stephen,” your father tries. “He’s nothing but a burden. Not the brilliant neurosurgeon you married.”

“I don’t care if he’s a neurosurgeon or not,” your fist slams onto the table causing your father to flinch. “I love Stephen, even if he doesn’t love me back.”

Unbeknownst by you, Stephen found the person he was looking for and so much more. He found a world and powers beyond his imagination and now, as a master he inherits the powers to open portals to see how the world has changed since he disappeared.

“Don’t be a fool, daughter,” your father sighs deeply, opening a folder to show you the number of debts you will have to pay back. “I can help you if you agree to part ways with Stephen.”

A bitter taste on your tongue you get up, toss the napkin onto the table before you turn to leave your father’s dining room. 

“Love means to not give up on a person only as he’s in a bad place, father. I will not leave Stephen even if he will never come back. I meant what I said,” taking your coat you do not turn around to not show your father your tears. “I loved him, always will, even if it’s unrequited.”

Stephen takes a deep breath watching you through one of the portals he learned to create.

He never took the time to get to know you, never saw the love burning in your heart but now, his mind and heart are wide open when he recalls all the nights you waited for him, eyes red-rimmed as you cried yourself to sleep.

“No, I haven’t heard of Stephen in months, Christine. Can we just not,” sniffling you wipe your eyes, “talk about him now? Dad wanted me to divorce my husband. I drown in debts and I can barely concentrate at work. I am close to losing my job too.”

“Y/N,” a deep voice calls your name and you drop your phone taking a step backward. “It’s me, Stephen.”

“Were you at a costume party? Is it Halloween, no…it’s too early,” blinking a few times you drink your husband's outfit in. He is wearing an odd necklace which looks like an eye. A red cape frames his body and you wonder since when Stephen wears such ‘eccentric’ clothes.

“I found the place I was looking for, Y/N,” his voice softer than you remember Stephen steps closer and you take another step backward. “All the wonders I have seen, felt, and experienced, my love.”

“Okay, Stephen,” stammering you look for your phone, fearing your husband lost his mind. “I get you were at a strange place with odd people but running around like a,” not finding a word for the costume he wears you point toward the cape.

“Magician, a master to be correct,” Stephen smiles, he really smiles, and your stomach drops, believing he got drugged. “Look,” the cape leaves his body and you suddenly feel dizzy when the fabric wraps around your body to push you into your husband’s arms. 

“I am dreaming,” falling against Stephen’s chest you lose consciousness. “You’re not here.”

“My love, how do you feel?” Stephen whispers while his cape drapes around your body. 

“Stephen, what is that thing?” scared you press your body to Stephen’s chest, shaking like a leaf. “Where were you and what’s going on?”

“It’s a long story, but don’t be afraid my love, he’ll not hurt you,” his hands gently cup your face and you wonder what Stephen is up to when his lips silence your mind. His tongue sweeps over the roof of your mouth and you whimper silently.

“Where have you been?” He is picking you up, ignoring your question. Heart racing, mind clouded you let him carefully place you onto your shared bed.

Just now your eyes land on his hands, his healed hands. “Your hands,” gasping you watch Stephen run his hands over your arms, caressing the skin with his fingertips.

“So beautiful and warm, soft and pure,” his voice lulls you into a cloud of warmth and you close your eyes, just feeling his lips touch your neck. “Can you forgive me for not seeing. For being blind for too long?���

His hands carefully open your dressing gown and you gasp, feeling his erection prominent against your thigh. Lips travel down your collarbone and you cry out when Stephen suckles one nipple into his mouth.

Sex was always like a duty to Stephen. Clean, fast, and without any passion but the man working his way down your body to press a chaste kiss to your mound could be a stranger.

“Let me take this off,” voice thick with lust now he slides your panties down your legs, groaning as your heat is at full display. “Did I ever tell you that your aura is overwhelming?”

“Aura,” gasping you watch him strip his clothes off in a hurry. Your eyes roam his body and you wonder how his hands can grip your thighs. 

Months ago, he could barely hold a fork and now he spreads your legs, holds you open to settle between your thighs.

“It’s like looking at a rainbow or something indescribable to watch you open up for me,” shuddering under Stephen’s gaze you reach out to touch him. His breathing quickens when you wrap your hand around his length to stroke him slowly. 

There is something in your husband’s eyes you never saw before – adoration, love even. He is pressing his lips to yours, as you let go of his length to slide your fingers through his hair.

“Stephen,” a broken moan leaves your lips feeling the tip slip in. Your hands grasp for anything to hold on tight when he slowly sinks into your heat. “I’ve missed you.”

“How could you miss me, the cold-hearted man ignoring you too long,” whimpering you wrap your legs around Stephen’s waist, not answering his question as the first thrust takes your breath away. “I wish that I was a better man.”

Between kisses, soft touches, and whispered words Stephen takes his time. His hips roll deliberate against yours, letting you feel his twitching length with every thrust. “Cum for be beautiful.”

“I…I can’t,” crying out you grip his shoulders, not liking the cape floats close to the bed. “He’s looking at us.”

“OUT!” Stephen yells and the cape leaves the room. “Now back to you, Y/N.”

Lips nibbling along your neck your husband hums against you with every long stroke. “Now cum for me.”

A tiny whimper leaves your lips, followed by a scream of his name when you fall, hard. Your blunt nails bite into his back feeling his warmth fill you. Another new development. Usually, Stephen used a condom, but not this time.

“You know, now I gotta pee thanks to you,” laughing at your words Stephen looks down at you, a smirk on his lips. “Doctors advice, baby.”

“You mean magic exists, just like different realities. That cape is magical and,” humming you close your eyes to process everything Stephen told you. “Now you are the protector of New York?”

“Something like that, Y/N. Do you want to meet Wong?” Humming you rest your head onto Stephen’s chest, wondering if the new man by your side will change again.

“I am not only thankful that being a master opened my mind and healed my body. It also made me see I was an awful husband and human being,” Stephen kisses your hair, smiling as you sleep peacefully. “It’s strange, the feeling of loving you but I kinda like it…”

All works Tags

@yolobloggers​

@shikshinkwon​

@miraclesoflove​

@mogaruke​

@shatteredabby​

@soryuwifeyxx​

@letsdisneythings​

@i-love-superhero​

@psychicforest​

@thevelvetseries​

@deanmonandnegansbitch​

@sabascio​

@goodgodimaweirdperson​

@that-place-called-middle-earth​

@trumpettay​

@zxph-yr​

@belovedcherry​

@matsumama​

@rynabarnesrogers-reading​

@emoryhemsworth​

@buckybarnesplumwhore​

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

Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore​

@notyourtypicalrose​

@voltage-my2dlove​

@officialmarvelwhore​

@randomgirlkensy​

@juniorhuntersam​

@lumar014​

@doctorswife221b​

@sister-winchesters99​

@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​

@the-soulofdevil​

@chonisberonica​

@redroomproperty​

@natura1phenomenon​

@chaoticfiretaconerd​

@heartislubbingdubbing​

@hhiggs​

@sea040561​

@midnightsilver16830​

@rvgrsbrns​

@fandom-princess-forevermore​

@amandamdiehl​

@grincheveryday​

@thelostallycat​

@lunaticgurly​

@xxlikeheavenxx​

@supernaturalwintersoldier​

[spookysmujer]

Cherry pt.2, O. Diaz

Summary: Y/N is in her feelings and Oscar’s guilt doesn’t allow him to let her in. 

warnings: angst, f e e l s, cliche love shet 🤩

word count: 3.6k

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has been so patient! The writers block was soooo major. The love that Cherry got sent me so naturally I had to do a part 2 and I hope y’all like it. I’m lowkey feeling a part 3...🤪 I have a few drafts of Spooky/Sad Eyes fics that I am slowly but surely working on. Hopefully I’ll have a few up sometime this week/weekend. ❤️ Please: Heart! Reblog! Follow! Turn on those notifications! Love ya!

(gif belongs to @merakiaes 🦋)

-

“Boo, you whore.”

Another piece of popcorn hits the tv screen joining the pile that has accumulated on the floor below since the beginning of the movie you started almost 2 hours ago. The guy confessing his love below the girls window, the sappy confession, the cliche smile and laugh. Yuck, it makes you pretend gag as you fly a handful of popcorn this time.

If someone told you that you would be all bent up about turning down a guy, you’d tell them that they’re tripping but here you are. The typical ‘in your feelings’ watching sappy shit and in the same clothes as yesterday morning. Yes, yesterday morning. How the hell did you get here?

For the 3rd time in that hour you pick up your phone to check for any notifications. Almost unlocking it to open the contacts app and.. No! You mentally condemn yourself for thinking of calling him. It would be pointless considering he hasn’t made any form of contact since that night at the beach. Since Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz told you, his weekend booty call, he might think he feels something more between the two of you. It’s not the first time a guy has confessed that he has a crush on you, it’s just never been done like this. It’s usually, hey I like you, then comes the banging and then ghosted. Now it’s completely opposite.

You can’t help but be confused and laugh about the whole thing because since Oscar became the leader of of the Santos he had been a cold looking, tough talking, macho man that no one would dare question. Even with you when the whole FWB started then he got comfortable. You definitely weren’t prepared for it.

With all this ghosting and being a sad little girl, it has given you time to think about it all. About pursuing a relationship with Spooky. But with how things went down, you question it even more than you did before. His immediate reaction to rejection is anger and pettiness. Instead of looking at the situation and thinking on how to handle it. If this is how he handles his relationships you can only imagine how he handles his gang business but the teardrop tattoo tells you enough.

Without even thinking of the two you of being the two of you, being with him... it was something. When you’d have sex and just lay next to him, it did feel like something. But you never acknowledged it as anything because it was just sex and was explicitly labeled by him as just so.

“This is just sad.” Your sister says as she stands in the door way, to which you completely ignore.

You point the remote to the tv and turn up the volume, “Your life is sad.”

“Yeah, but not as sad as yours.”

She strides over and grabs the remote from besides you to turn off the movie. You roll your eyes and grab your phone as another means of distraction, which she grabs from you too.

“What?!”

She gives you a look of ‘oh really?’ and crosses her arms. If there is one thing to get you to lose your marbles it’s when people stare at you. Waiting for you to crack and you always do.

“What do you want me to do? He clearly got his feelings hurt and doesn’t want anything to do with me. And for what it’s worth, I’m not even entirely sure I can see anything happening between us.” You admit, finally looking at the younger verison of yourself.

She sighs and ushers you to move over to let her lay beside you, “Y/N, you really don’t get it, huh? Oscar likes you! It scared you when he admitted it because like I always say, he’s a dangerous guy. But sweetheart, you may not see it entirely but you still see it. You are curious. You want to know what’s there besides sex no matter how much you say that you can’t see it. Hello! We can all see that y’all weren’t just sleeping with each other. Something is there and you need to just take that leap of faith. You keep telling yourself that it’s pointless to try and talk with him. Then I see you like this and it’s obvious you’re in your feelings. So do something about it.”

She smacks your leg and gets up to leave. You can only huff and puff at her opinion. What more could you do though? You’ve given him space both after the night at the beach and when you left him the voicemail. Perhaps his pride is too big and he didn’t want to make the first move. But so is yours. If you didn’t make the move, your sister would drag you there. So fuck it, you sigh and roll out of bed to make yourself presentable to go talk to Oscar.

After sitting in your driveway for 10 minutes trying to talk yourself out of it, you twist the key into the ignition and take a deep, semi-confident breath, “Okay, just go over there and talk to him. Ask him what’s up, why he been ghosting you. Just be cool. Com’n Y/N, shake your damn nerves. You’re that bitch, been that bitch and will foreva be the bitch!”

You pep talk yourself while driving to Oscars and it makes you feel a little better and it distracts you long enough that you’re now driving on the familiar street. You park behind a few cars on the curb that’s a house down from his.

As you approach it, music can be heard as well as guys talking. It’s mid afternoon which meant the Santos were probably scattered on the front lawn. Sure enough as you step in front of the house there is a few on the porch, a few on the run down couches and others standing around. Oscar leant besides the stairs and his eyes find yours for a brief second.

You look at the Cholos as you walk up the pathway leading to the stairs of the house. A few hushed conversations and tsks from the rucas.

“Hey,” You make your way in front of Oscar who just takes a swig of his redbull, eyes avert and looking down at his feet.

“Sup.”

You look at Joker who sports an amused face, staring at you like you were raspado on a hot day, you inhale deeply and look back to Oscar, shifting your weight and crossing your arms.

“I tried calling, even left you a message. Did you get it?” Oscar still didn’t look at you, only at the can in his hand, sniffing and shrugging his shoulders.

It isn’t that Oscar is upset that you turned him down or even that you trash talked him, but that he feels like shit when he listened to your voicemail. As he had just spent that Friday night doing fine ass Leti in a hotel room on Fremont street, in Sin City. Because yes, it was fucked up on what you said. But Oscar did feel like he wanted more with you, not from you. It scared him to admit it, he wasn’t one to have time for serious relationship shit but hell he wanted it. So when you went off, he did too.

“Been busy, I’m a busy man.” He finally looks to you, taking a long gulp then crushing the empty can in hand and tossing it aside. Your eyes follow it and you scoff.

The Santos laugh as a side smirk forms on his face, “Real busy, homes!”

It’s obvious he is playing the part of being the leader, looking tough and shit. His machismo running hard.

“Since when you that kinda hyna, Y/N? Y’all just fucking why you so pressed on why he ain’t on your ass?” Joker calls out, getting a chuckle from Oscar and everyone else.

You deadpan look at him and then look to Oscar, waiting for him to talk to you. To ask the guys to bounce or even signal you to take a walk but he just stares at you like you were some annoying Girl Scout at the front door.

“You lucky you fine because you real dumb.” Another Santo you recognize as Oso says and you feel real ganged up on now. You lick your lips and purse them into a thin line, looking at him to ask what the hell he means by that. “Nena, he was busy banging fine ass Leti that’s why he ain’t call you back. Looks like he wanted something spicer.”

Your brows furrow at Oso’s words. Busy banging fine ass Leti. Everyone begins to laugh and look at you like you’re the high school laughing stock. Oscar’s facial expression says yup, that’s right. But you weren’t about to succumb to Oso’s words and react the way they probably hope you will.

“Sin City, huh? Nice.”

That’s all you say as you start to walk away from the house. You honestly could have said more, more trash talk about Oscar fucking Leti or worse. You could have gone off about how Spooky got his little heart broken but you weren’t about to make a fool of him in front of the Santos, you weren’t a prick like that. Let him have his power trip, you thought.

You could feel the tears forming as you make your way back to the car. The hot liquid threatening to spill over but quickly blinking them away. After getting in the car, you grip the steering wheel and take a deep, sharp breath before starting it and driving off.

Oscar continues to laugh with his homies about what just happened but he briefly lets his face fall as he replays the look you gave him and how cold your voice became. But this is how he hoped it’d go. He secretly hoped you’d be offended and leave because the guilt he felt when listening to your voicemail told him that he didn’t deserve a woman like you. So pushing you away works better.

“Hynas be fuckin’ trippin’.” He says pulling the cigarette pack from his pocket.

-

The look you give your sister when you get back to your loft is all she needed to understand how things went. She gave you an apologetic look as you shrugged your shoulders. Nothing a bathe couldn’t fix.

In all your years of dating, this has to be the most fucked up thing. It’s one thing for a guy to sleep with you and then ghost you, but to admit feelings then fuck other chick and ghost you? That hits different.

The speaker plays music as the candles burn sweet aromas while you sit in a hot, bubbly bath. You have your head tipped back and eyes closed. It’s when you get comfortable that your mind starts replaying the moments that connected to Oscar’s confession that night.

The smiles Oscar had when you’d walk through his front door, the lingering stares when you’d talk, the skin to skin even after the sex was long over. The guy has liked you from the start.

Then you start to think your reactions. The burning feeling in your cheeks, the comfort in the touches, the tink your heart had when his name popped up on your phone.

“Fuck.”

How did you not see how you were falling for him as he was for you? How could you deny it was just sex when you thought of him before, during and after the hook ups? Did that “Spooky” image of him really cloud your judgement that much? Sweetheart, the guy admitted he bounced to go fuck Leti in Las Vegas!

But you know the only reason he did so is because of his go-to reaction to things. Oscar always gets his way with things and people.

You sigh as you finally push the denial and fear aside to see things more clearly. The water splashes around as you sit up from the tub, turning on the shower to rinse off. You get out, clean up and dry off while thinking what your next is move is going to be. From the looks of it you were right about Oscar’s pride. Either he isn’t making the first move or actually has decided that he is over you. Yet, here you are. On a mission to get him to talk to you.

There isn’t any hesitation this time. You don’t wait in your driveway before driving off nor do you pep talk yourself on your way there. It’s one of those moments that your ambition is so strong that you are diving head first.

And thank the heavens there are no Santos crowding the house. The red impala in the driveway and the dimly lit kitchen shows that he is home. Unless he had fine ass Leti pick him up. You shake the thought as you pull up the curb directly in front of the Diaz residence.

You step out and walk onto the sidewalk when your feet plants itself there. It’s then that you begin to think. What will you say to him? Why haven’t you been talking to me? What’s with you dipping to Vegas? Or ‘hey, in my 20 minute bathe I had before coming here I suddenly understood what you meant about thinking of other shit besides sex. And I also realize I let everyone’s image of you cloud my judgement before giving you a chance!’

You turn back and open the passenger side door, turning the ignition so that the car system is on. The glow of your phone hitting your face as you reach for the aux cord and connecting it.

“This is so stupid, this so fucking dumb. All or nothing, Y/N.”

As the music starts, you turn it up and stand up back on the sidewalk.

The instrumental starts playing to “The Story” by Sara Ramirez that was featured on one of your favorite shows, Grey’s Anatomy. The moon casting a glow onto the yard, the chilly air surrounding. It’s like out of the damn movies you swear are so cliche. The same ones you would gag at and promise yourself you wouldn’t let a guy ever do. And look at you now.

All of these lines across my face

Tell you the story of who I am

So many stories of where I been

And how I got to where I am

But these stories don’t mean anything

When you’ve got no one to tell them to

It’s true, I was made for you

“I know you’re home. I can see the lights on and your car is here... and I’ll stand out here until you come out and talk to me. All night if I have to. I know you wanna talk.”

You call out loud, leaning against your car and reaching through the open window to up turn the volume.

Oscar mutes the tv to make sure he’s hearing right. As you spoke, he stands from the couch and in place when he confirms it’s your voice he’s hearing. That’s when the soft music under your voice gets louder.

I climbed across the mountains tops

Swam all across the ocean blue

I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules

But baby I broke them all for you

The music blares from outside. He rolls his eyes and stands by the front door for a moment as he listens. Fighting the urge to walk out, shut off the music and tell you to bounce. He is also fighting a grin that his face is forcing, hearing that sappy music. But the first urge wins.

You see the front door open and a visibly irritated Oscar descend down the small staircase. He strides over quickly, pulling you off from against the door and reaching in to hit the knob, turning off the stereo system.

Oscar stands and faces you. He doesn’t say anything looking at you with annoyance.

“I knew you were home.” You joke, a little smile peeking. He wipes his chin and huffs.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

He only shakes his head, “I said all I needed to when you were here earlier.”

The sounds you make makes him quirk an eyebrow and you untangle your arms that were across your chest, “You’re acting like your compas are around. Afraid someone is listening? Don’t want anyone to hear you talk about your feelings? Come, let’s go inside.”

You walk towards his house and welcome yourself in without him so much as a step behind you. He stands there as you did so, shaking his head and releasing a held in breath. Things are definitely not going how he imagined.

When he steps over the threhold, you’re sat on the couch and staring of towards the kitchen. The many times you were here and it for the first time feels like you’re out of place. Oscar clears his throat and sits on the chair across from you.

“Let’s talk.”

You lick your lips and look down at your hands then to him, “You’re mad I turned you down. That’s why you’re acting like this. And that’s fine. You acted out with the whole Vegas shit and that’s fine. I get it.”

“You get it?” Oscar leans forward to rest his arms on his knees, “I went to fuck another hyna barely a day after we talked and that’s fine to you?”

You swallow and shrug your shoulders, “Yeah. I’m not your ruca, like Joker said we’ve just been fucking, we didn’t make a rule that we can’t see others.”

Oscar laughs at himself, reading you before looking away and standing. He walks to the dining area grabbing the ashtray, lighting a joint before settling back in his seat.

“It didn’t tick you off one bit that I spent the weekend in Las Vegas with someone, not just someone but fine ass Leti? Ha, bullshit it’s fine.” He scoffs.

“I-it didnt. It doesn’t.”

Oscar’s face contorts to anger, brows furrowing and lips pressed together tightly before shouting out, “It should! It should bother you. Why would you come running back to the guy who treats you like that? That’s fucked up. You shouldn’t let no one treat you like that. Not me, not anyone.”

You inhale sharply, “Well I’m here! I’m here because you got me thinking now. You got me in my damn feelings. Because any other guy to pull what you did, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t come running back, like you say. I didn’t plan to. After your little machismo stunt with the guys I thought, fuck um. Fuck all that. Then... all those stupid times when I could feel you smiling at me, when you claimed we were just fucking? How when I craved, when we craved each other when we weren’t fucking?”

You’re out of breath. Your chest heaving, as the tears has formed, your anger always summoned tears, it’s a weakness of yours.

“I started thinking and seeing all the things that you claimed you wanted with me. And then I finally broke the vision of you that everyone sees and I saw you, Oscar not Spooky. And then my little stupid heart told me to come tell you all this.”

Oscar has only felt like this with his little brother, Cesar. The feeling of pushing and fighting for something. And when he built the courage to tell you he wanted more, he felt it then too. But then everything else that happened afterwards broke that feeling. Until now, he feels it again. It feels like a warm feeling, in the pit of his stomach that spreading throughout his chest now. And you feel it too.

You two only stare at one another. The only thing between you is the coffee table. He leans back in his chair, when his cheeks lift in a small smile. Oscar keeps his eyes off you for a bit. He really thought you’d get more upset and storm off after he dragged the whole sleeping with someone else thing. But here you are, pushing and fighting.

“So what now? Hm, tell me what you want to happen now.”

Just as he did, you look away and feel your cheeks burn. The warm feeling assaulting your chest.

“I want to figure this out. I want to know why my gut is telling me to find out what’s here. And you’re right, I don’t deserve to be treated this way but... I want to be treated someone kind of way with you.”

Oscar nods, blinking slowly and peering at you as you stand. You walk over and swing your leg across his lap to sit. His hands automatically reaching your waist, sliding up your back and down.

“Tell me you want that too.”

Oscar nods as your faces are mere inches apart. The space growing smaller and the warm feeling intensifying.

When your lips connect and it’s that moment you hear in those stories, the ones when the guys come home from the war to their gals, it’s bliss. The kiss isn’t needy, it isn’t I want you so bad but I want you. You two aren’t fighting for dominance. You aren’t trying to rip each other’s clothes off like you usually would in this situation.

After a few moments of kissing, you pull back and rest your forehead against his. Shallows breaths while keeping your eyes closed.

“So where do we start?” You ask him. He chuckles as you lean back, hands interlocked at the back of his neck.

“Dinner tomorrow. I’m gonna cook for you, get to know each other. Let’s start there.”

Tags:

@clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @firebenderwolf @spookysnena @princesstiffxoxo

[starkidpotty]

The Good Side [DLM]

You and Draco lament on what could’ve been and what would’ve been fun had things been different. 

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader 

Words: ~2.1k

A/N: I took a lot of liberties writing Draco out, so I’m sorry if the characterization is a little whack. (any draco writers out there...advice is welcome pls message huhu) i hope u guys enjoy it nonetheless <3 

The sun beat down on the northern part of Diagon Alley that day. It was the transitional period between summer and spring, where the weather hit just the right spot and everyone was out to enjoy their time. It was quite the contrast to what you and Draco had come to discuss at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Shop.

Draco was sat across from you, people-watching while scooping up his raspberry ice cream. You decided against ice cream that day, with your hands folded gracefully on your lap. You and he would occasionally steal glances at each other, trying to urge each other to start the conversation. Whether it was pride or shyness that hindered you two from talking, you were not sure. The heat was starting to get to you, as you were now starting to get annoyed with the silence you two didn’t need to share. 

“How’s the MACUSA and Ministry effort?” Draco starts, as though he were aware of the irritation building inside you. He was always one step ahead of you, a skill he still proved to have been proficient at even though it had been years after you two parted ways. 

“Same old, same old–only I spearhead it now.” You answer him quite proudly. He stops picking at his ice cream to flash a smile your way. 

“I always told you’d  get it, didn’t I? The Ministry would be fools to let such talent go to waste.” 

A heavy pause blankets you both. The air between you two was a tripe mixture of nostalgia and despondency. As uncomfortable as it was, neither of you made moves to fuel the conversation further. Draco picks at his cup again, and you fixate on a wizard carrying a stack of books making his way out of Flourish and Blott’s. 

You take a deep breath in, “Alright, I think it’s time to save us the awkwardness, yeah?” 

Draco puts down his ice cream cup, turning his body and chair to face you. He perches his folded hands on the table and looks at you intently. Your body is still facing the street the ice cream shop overlooks, but your head is turned to look back at him. 

“I need the ring back.” He states his purpose simply. 

“Then, you’ll get it back. Need not worry, Draco.” You grab your purse and shuffle through its contents until you finally palm the velvet ring box. You gently place the box on the table. 

“Perfect.” Draco says to you, as he opens the ring box, examining the emerald ring inside. 

“When are you planning on asking Astoria?” You ask Draco, trying to make your tone as neutral as possible. 

“All I can say is soon. I just know I’m going to marry her.” 

You won’t lie to yourself and say that there isn’t a small part of you that finds this deeply saddening. Draco and your’s relationship was good, to say the least–as good as it gets as childhood acquaintances to Slytherin housemates to lovers. All firsts were shared with each other: first kiss, first time, first I love you’s. You watched him as he received the Dark mark, held his hand through Lucius’ trial after the war, and watched each other in the early stages of your respective careers. It wasn’t the beginning and middle that was terrible so much as the end. There was never any big event that had caused either of you to fall out of love. There was no third party, no betrayal, no selfishness, no greed. It was quiet–that was the best way you could describe it–the ending crept up on the both of you, sleeping on your chests until the weight became too heavy to shudder away. You looked at each other and no longer sought each other out in the future. The breakup itself was amicable and neutral, with the both of you accepting that you had merely outgrown each other, despite having grown together. On some nights, imagining what could’ve been sent you down two paths, where you either resented each other or fell back in together. It bothers you sometimes to think of the latter, but you know well enough it was going to be the former. 

You smile sweetly at Draco in response, looking back down at your hands as you were at a loss for words. 

“I’m glad you found someone, I really am.” You say as you finally unknot the tie your tongue was in.

Draco looks around, as though making sure no one would be able to hear the next sentence to fall out of his mouth.  “D’you ever think we could’ve made it to that point?” 

“You did propose to me, hence why we’re here.” You chuckle lightly and continue, “but, I think we would’ve grown to hate each other, if I’m being honest, Draco.” 

Draco squints to look up at the sun, trying to muster a response. 

You look back at him with your mouth twisted into a half-smile, brows furrowed, mildly amused that he asked. He finally turns to you and catches your expression, making him smile slightly. 

“Why do you think that?” Draco asks you intently. 

“Well, I think we just became different people. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” 

One of the things Draco had to learn was choosing his words carefully before speaking them. He was never keen on being heedful with what he’d say, as evidenced by his formative years at Hogwarts, even when he was talking to you. However, his early years in litigation forced him to catch his tongue before it made any unfavorable comment on stakeholders during a trial. His eyes were shut in deep concentration, trying to map out what to say next to you. 

“What happened between us?” Draco asks you. “I still ask myself that a lot sometimes. Not for anything, but it’s just hard for me to understand. It just happened upon us, quickly too might I add.” 

You take a few moments to ponder, to craft out your dialogue, “It wasn’t that anything happened, Draco. It was moreso that nothing happened at all.”

“Did we grow to hate each other, is that it?” Draco tries hard to hide his classic schoolboy sneer, but fails. 

“Draco, I could never hate you. You of all people should know that.” You huff out, suddenly frustrated at his tone. 

“Sorry, [Y/N], that didn’t come out quite right.” 

“S’alright, I understand.” 

Draco curses himself for the drastic change in mood, he didn’t mean for it to happen. 

“It’s just strange to think, I suppose.” He asks again, more careful now with his tone.

“What is?” You turn your head to face him. Suddenly, the years you spent apart are splayed on his face in developing forehead wrinkles and tired eyes. You are studying the new features on his face intently, making sure that this is the Draco you had spent more than two decades with. 

“Weren’t we always sure of what was to come to both of us? As though we had so much control over the next few years of our lives?” 

You breathe in and close your eyes before you answer. In a flash, you are taken back to nights spent in the Slytherin common room, talking hypothetical situations with Draco–what you’d do if in the event the hospital made a mistake and you were having twins instead of one child, what if you became a quidditch star and he your number #1 fan instead of working for the Ministry, what if you both ran off to an island off the coast of Greece and raised sheep and never came back? 

You reply to him solemnly, “I think the universe is funny that way, don’t you think?” 

“Merlin, you sound like you belong with the quacks in the Department of Mysteries.” 

“Shut up, it’s a saying muggles like to parrot, thought it would go nicely with the tone of conversation.” 

Draco pauses and continues, “Didn’t we always have our own sense of time? That extended into our plans, who our hypothetical kids would be. It’s insane to me how that changed so fast,” 

“I agree.” You tell him, “We were supposed to marry each other, for Merlin’s sake!” 

Draco sighs, looking off to the side. 

You never held any ill-intent with how you and Draco ended, but now you realize that was just you. Not once had you considered that he was hurting more than you due to the peaceful nature of the breakup. It was criminally naive of you to have thought Draco was just as at peace as you after ending a decade-long relationship. 

“Well, do you hate me, Draco?” You ask him at your realization. 

“More than 10 years together and, what? Four years apart, you think I could hate you?” Draco asks you, almost offended at your question. “You know the answer to that, [Y/N].”

“Were you ever angry at me? For how,” You pause trying to look for the term to best describe, “calm I was when I told you I wanted to leave?”

Draco’s practiced this conversation so many times in his head, but he still takes a moment to process the words he wants to use to convey his emotions. “For a time, yes. I was angry with you. But not the kind of angry I usually am. It was an anger that made me question so many things.”

“I had just always thought time was an excellent indicator of a strong relationship, I mean, 10 years? Would you question it then? A decade? So, to put it simply, I was angry–angry that time wasn’t enough to salvage what we had. But, I think that was naivety talking. This is in no offense to you at all, I cherish our time together so much so. But, Astoria? It’s as right as anything, and not even time could tell me how to feel about her.” 

You look at Draco in awe, wondering when he had crossed the line from boy to man in the four years you spent apart. Draco was always smart, no doubt. But, this Draco sat in front of you–carefully choosing his words and explaining his emotions–it was entirely new. You reached over to hold Draco’s hand, but not in the way you and he would hold hands years ago. It was in an I’m proud of how far you’ve grown, type of way. Draco was taken aback, but understood quickly, always privy to your emotions, whether they were tacit or overt. He squeezed your hand back. 

“[Y/N], I need you to know that you are such a huge part of who I am today, I can never discount that. Ever.” Draco says to you, your hand still in his. “We’ve done so much good for each other, we really have.” 

“We really have, Draco. Astoria’s so lucky, she has to know that.” 

Draco’s famous smirk makes an appearance on his mouth, “I’m damn well sure she knows.” 

You throw your head back in laughter, letting go of his hand, “Merlin, there you are again–cocky boy from Slytherin.” 

“Cocky boy from the litigation department, I’d rather hear that.” 

You both laugh at each other like no time has passed. Like both of you were back in the Slytherin common room after bedtime talking about all the dumb things two teenagers thought were important at the time. You two catch up a little bit more, further detailing your efforts in dating and at the ministry (with the former being quite futile), and he diving into how he and Astoria came to be. You and Draco filled in the blanks from the last few years until the conversation boils down to a halt. You say your goodbyes, hugging each other, wishing each other well and walking toward opposite ends of Diagon Alley. 

As much as you thought this a heavy task to fulfill, you left the conversation with a light heart and even lighter shoulders. There is relief you haven’t felt since you left Draco. The relationship, as good as it was, was best left how it ended. No mourning, no lamenting could rewrite the ending or the years succeeding it in the same way no regret or guilt could change the years prior to it. All you knew was the good that you and Draco left in the spaces between you two. 

--

masterlist here | requests open

[allthatglittersisnotgoldrush]

Author Interview: Victoryindeath2 (by Mythopoeia

Thank you @abadpoetwithdreams! I hope you don't regret the last question you asked :D

1. You are responsible for creating the characters of Frog and Sticks! What canon Silm event are you most excited to see from their child perspectives?

Soooo many things—but I am interested to see how they will feel when Mae is back on his feet, a warrior more deadly with his left than he even was with his right, the sort of man who can in canon create the Union of Maedhros. The children have seen Maedhros at his lowest, seen him tormented and crushed into the earth in the cruelest of ways. They also saw how he could be his best even when there was no hope or light for him—he protected them and was kind to them and loved them. I am just interested to see how other men’s and women’s opinions might change as Maedhros moves into the next phase of his life, and how the children will, in some ways, always see Maedhros as their Russandol.

Sticks: yeah I knew he was cool before you all realized it

Frog: *drops a rock in Mae’s left hand and curls up in his lap* tell me and my pet rock a story Mae

Mae: I actually have leadership things to do....

Sticks: you owe us for all the stories you didn’t tell us back in the Bad Place

Mae: *tells them a story and Fingon finds the kids sleeping under Mae’s arms twenty minutes later*

(There is also a non-canon event sometime in the future that I want so VERY badly but guess I can’t say because of spoilers *sighs*)

2. We often joke about how this AU is basically our own crazy version of a Silm tv series. What are some of favourite moments in the series so far that stand out to you as particularly cinematic?

There are so many moments, some of the wondrous and stunning variety, and some of the quiet and beautiful....but here are a few that leapt right to my mind:

a. Maedhros and Fingon parting the last time before Feanor divided the families almost forever! Maedhros with his hair in the sunlight on his horse and the line, “see you on the other side, cano!”

b. Gosh DARN it Mae on the cliff, with Morgoth offering him the chance to leap to his death, and he doesn’t take it *cries*

c. FINGON’S CHILD OF THE WOLF MOMENT WHERE HE TAKES MAIRON OUT (ALSO RIGHT BEFORE WHEN MAE GRABS AT HIS ANKLE AND TRIES TO GET FINGON TO SAVE HIMSELF)

d. Maedhros riding into the thrall camp and basically falling into Gwindor and SLINGING AN ARM AROUND HIS NECK YES HUGS ALL AROUND YESSSS

e. Look Ceili fic I know we talk about it all the time but I am here to talk about it again, especially the moment where Mae pulls Caranthir out on the dance floor and then they all dance together and everyone ends up in a pile on the floor except for Mae who just stands over them all laughing I think doubled over and there is so much good energy in that scene I NEED IT ON SCREEN

f. Personally I like to think that Celegorm stalking his way into a club in New York City and beating the living daylights out of Eol was cinematic

g. Maedhros having successfully argued Huan’s way into the journey west, stumbling all tired like up to the stairs, and meeting Nerdanel there, and resting his head on his mom’s neck. The darling tol bby

h. MAE ATTACKING ULFANG FOR THE SAKE OF HIS BROS, GOING FROM DEPRESSED BROKEN BABY WHO HAS LOST ALL HOPE TO DEPRESSED BROKEN BABY WHO HAS LOST ALL HOPE BUT STILL WILL FIGHT FOR HIS BROS

i. Bby Mae lying on Feanor’s chest ;;;;;;;;;;; before Feanor became the worst

j. Can’t even remember what fic it was at this point but there is a dream? Mae has? Of like....the sea and red sun or something? It was a lot

k. There are many many more moments and I am mad that I can’t remember the one that stood out to me recently

l. ..........the whole fic Seven Card Stud

m. MOONLIGHT GUNSLINGER MAE AND HOW HE TOTALLY OUTCLASSED MAIRON

n. Every hug and brotp and found family moment ever. I have addictions and there is never enough of what I want on screen

o. THERE ARE MORE SPECIFIC ONES BUT I HAVE TO STOP AT SOME POINT DON’T I

3. Walk me through what an ideal day would look like for Caranthir?

The MOST ideal day would be Caranthir waking up in his little closet bedroom in Formenos and realizing he just had a horrible nightmare, and also realizing that he still has his mom and ALL of his brothers. And then at the breakfast table Feanor says something like “wow I’ve been stupid in a good many ways, and a rotten dad because of that, good thing I have recognized my flaws and shall now be a better person, also Mae you can stop going to live in the city if you want, just stay here with your brothers. Also you know, Caranthir, even though you’re still my least favorite child, I’m proud of you. And not just because these are the best pancakes I have ever tasted.”

Then Caranthir probably helps his mom in the garden, gets some quality one on one time with Mae when Mae helps him make a pie, Mae reminds him how special and good he thinks Caranthir is, and Celegorm and Curufin ask Caranthir to join them for fishing. Not that Caranthir necessarily wants to do that, but he does want to be asked. Then Amras and Amrod ask him to help them with sums, so that he feels like a helpful big brother, and without being asked, Maglor takes out his fiddle and plays the slow-moving, peaceful song that Caranthir loves and Maglor despises because it is not challenging enough

4. What is a character POV you have not written yet about but would like to?

I would like to write something from Maeglin’s POV—I feel a powerful urge to protect that lost boy. He’s had an odd and often terrifying life and he needs a break. Good grief imagine having a mom like his mom, imagine Morgoth commanding you to call him uncle. Ew. Anyway, he’s exactly the sort of character I usually adopt as my son. An angsty sad boy without much future, who needs LOVE

5. If you could recommend only one fic from each author (including yourself, of course) what would they be?

HOW TO PICK?!

TolkienGirl: wayyyyy too many to really choose from but I have to go back to the beginning and say “news, breaking” because of the way it introduces my Feanorian boys, and also because of Mae wearing a flowered apron one minute and then a half open leather vest the next, with his glorious hair tied back!

Mythopoeia: I feel like I have to say “those gathered beneath” because it was so DEFINITIVE of our favorite Irish family, and also Turgon is a great narrator (but since I always talk about this fic I shall also add another, lesser known perhaps: “save ourselves unaided” because it introduces Haleth and more people need to appreciate Haleth and Mythopoeia’s Haleth is SO GOOD)

Victoryindeath2: “a certain slant of light (where the meanings are)” because it was my first Caranthir fic, and so it holds a special place in my heart

Bonus Q: The Feanorians are now a KPop group. What are their hair colors and roles?

THE WAY I CHOKED ON MY LAUGHTER WHEN I FIRST READ THIS QUESTION

I ALSO GOT WAY TOO CAUGHT UP IN THIS SO IF YOU ARE AN AU READER WHO DOESN’T CARE ABOUT KPOP IN ANY WAY YOU CAN STOP HERE, I WON’T BE MAD. On the other hand I think I have really good answers so maybe you should continue lol

Maedhros: He has to be a coppery red-head, doesn’t he? Maybe something of the red color that you once told me you wanted Heeseung to try. He would make a great leader, but ALSO. Also I think that he has had enough stress in canon in and in our AU, so I really just want to give him the opportunity to be merely the eldest hyung, who everyone goes to for comfort, for hugs and advice, and who supports the leader quietly. He is a good vocalist and can maybe rap in a pinch? but we put so much emphasis on him as a dancer that he HAS to be the dance leader. Obviously. Is widely acknowledged as the visual of the group

Maglor: Longish black hair, maybe midnight blue or deep purple. Has tried several different hairstyles and regretted half of them. He claims a specific aesthetic in hair and dress is necessary for him to compose the group’s songs, and while he gets teased by everyone for this he also writes amazing music so? It works? Is definitely a vocalist. His vlives consist of him playing every instrument known to man, and half the time Mae is sitting in the background listening with an awed expression on his face—till he falls asleep. Maglor can’t decide if he is pleased by this or insulted

Celegorm: Usually rocks blond or silver hair, but one time some fool insulted Amrod’s pink hair and the next thing you know Celegorm had pink hair for three months. Probably disparaged Maglor’s mullet phase but tried it once himself as a penalty for a game in a Run Feanorian episode and kinda thought it wasn’t half bad.

Celegorm is the “I don’t follow what the company says” member, “screw the rules if they aren’t good for my fam.” He is also a sick rapper and his diss tracks and mixtapes are things of beauty. He also clearly frequents the gym and will toss an annoyed member—most likely Maglor, but sometimes Curufin—over his shoulder any chance he can get. Has definitely done pushups with Amrod or Amras on his back. He and Mae swept the ISAC games

Caranthir: Typically goes with brown/black hair, which only throws the fandom into more of an uproar when the rare occasion arises in which he actually dyes it some other color. Probably went mint for a music video and Curufin started calling him mint choco boy, which offends him deeply as he is (sadly) on the side of “mint chocolate ice cream tastes like toothpaste.” He’s a vocalist with a rougher voice that is surprisingly pleasing to listen too.

Speaking of surprises, Caranthir never quite understands his own popularity. He didn’t like to do vlives by himself for ages, until Mae encouraged him to do cooking and baking vlives, and now he does one once a month on a schedule. Fans are putting together a book of his recipes

Curufin: He does intense and striking hairstyles and colors, and is probably the most likely to do black hair streaked through with red, teal, green, gold, white, etc. He claims to be the visual of the group and Mae is the one member who always agrees with him. I’d say he is also a dancer, one almost as good as Mae but with a different style, and he has a quick and sharp rap. He is heavily involved in the production of their songs over time.

Here is the thing though—I think, in this better non-canon non-Gold Rush AU universe, that Curufin could be the leader. See, Feanor is not gonna be the company CEO loll. Fingolfin is. And Fingolfin mentors better than Feanor EVER could. And Curufin is a sharp lad, very smart and crafty, and if he could just be convinced to care about all his brothers/group members like he does about himself and Celegorm in the AU, and if he just has proper guidance, allowing Mae to assist him in struggles, going to him for support, I think he would be an excellent leader

Ambarussa: Amras and Amrod have tried every color and color combination under the SUN, and they often coordinate with each other either to match or complement. Amras sometimes gets tired of this, preferring to stick to the general group color scheme, and when that happens Amrod just says fine be like that and goes off and does his own thing. Sooner or later though, Amras always gives in and joins him once again.

The twins obviously have all their hyungs wrapped around their little fingers, even Maglor who is driven insane by them crashing into his room shrieking and giggling when he is trying to write music or run a very serious vlive. As far as their musical talents go, I love when maknaes are ridiculously well-rounded, and these are Feanorian maknaes, so I’m gonna say they can both dance, sing, and rap. People have placed bets on whether they will grow as tall as Mae (spoilers, they won’t, no one ever will, he’s the tallest in Kpop world)

Huan: is the team mascot, and lives in their large dorm with them because Celegorm said so

Anddd that’s all folks

[impala-dreamer]

All Our Sins

SPN FanFic

~It has been a long time since your last confession, but you were pretty sure it wasn't supposed to go like this...~

Priest!Dean x Reader, Sam

1,700 Words

Warnings; NSFW. EXTREME BLASPHEMY. Priest!Kink. Dirty Talk. Spanking. Hardcore fuckin'. In a confessional booth.

A/N: For my darling @assbuttaf​, who asked for this like a year ago... Hope you all enjoy...

 My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

The candlelight died away instantly as you closed the tiny door of the confessional booth. It had been years since you'd even stepped foot in a church, let alone attempted confession, but there you were, about to sink to your knees.

Afraid to look through the screen, you bowed your head and knelt down, ready to try this whole praying thing.

"In nomine Patris et Filii, Spiritus Sancti. Amen." The priest spoke slowly, his voice like caramel through the grate; deep and rich.

Your lip shook. "Bless me, Father for I have sinned."

"Go on…"

It was hard to speak; your voice shaking, chin steadied by clasped hands. "It's been...well, hell, I can't remember how long since I did this last.

"That's fine, my dear, go on. What do you need to confess?"

"I guess… a lot," you admitted with a sarcastic laugh. "I mean, I curse constantly. I've been in fights, I've killed. Not- humans, but…things."

The priest nodded, his crisp profile distorted by the mesh. "That's...not great."  A slick chuckle made your heart skip.

"I've saved people too, Father," you went on, explaining away the sin of murder. "Lots of people."

"I'm sure you have."

There was a pause, a long moment of silence inside the booth. You could hear his breathing, slow and steady; he was waiting for you to speak, to tell him everything. You lifted your eyes to the screen and caught a glimpse of tanned skin and plump, pink lips. Quickly, you dragged your eyes away. He was a priest, not something to be ogled.

“Is that all?” he asked, breaking the silence and halting the sinful throbbing betwixt your thighs.

Startled, you sucked in a short breath. “What?”

“Is that all you wish to confess?” He spoke slowly, deliberately drawing out each letter; the F pulling his bottom lip tight between his teeth. You couldn’t help but watch through the grate; tiny crosses giving you a stunted view of his tongue as it pressed against perfect teeth. “If we are to be forgiven, we must confess all of our sins…”

“N-no,” you stammered, feeling yourself weaken with each word he spoke. “There’s...more.”

“So… go on.”

You took a breath and closed your eyes, gathering the strength you needed to continue. “Well, Father, I...I’ve had impure thoughts.” The words were stuck on your tongue, your mouth drying as your pussy dripped, arousal taking over. “About my friend,” you went on. “My...partner- work, partner. My friend. He’s...so, so beautiful.” The padded bench beneath your knees was doing little to keep you up; the thought of him making your blood sing. “I’ve been very... lustful, Father.”

The priest sat forward, leaning closer to the screen. “How so?”

“I touch myself thinking about him. I can’t help it. I dream about his hands on me; about his big cock inside of me.” The confession sprang free and you went with it, telling your deepest secret to the shadow in the booth next to you. “I cum all the time thinking about sucking his cock; him fucking my face so hard that I can’t think straight. I- I need him.”  

“Is that so?” His voice was darker, his breath heavier. “Go on.”

“Sometimes during the day, I sneak away to go to the bathroom and fuck my slutty pussy while I think about him.” It was so easy now that the seal had been broken, and your lips refused to yield. “I stole his undershirt a while ago and I keep it under my pillow back home and stick my face in it while I ride my dildo, smelling him while I squirt all over the place. God, he’s so sexy, I need him so fucking bad. Need him to wreck my drippy cunt and fill me up. Need his cock so bad. So bad.”

He swallowed hard. “You have been sinful, girl.” His tone was rough, condemning. “I don’t know that this kind of behavior can be forgiven. Are you penitent?”

You could feel hot wet you were; the thin panties beneath your pencil shirt were soaked. “What?”

“Do you regret your actions?”

A smile pulled at your mouth. “No, Father. I do not.”

The priest sucked his teeth in disappointment. “You will be punished for this,” he said firmly.

Your heart was racing. “Yes, Father, I know.”

Without another word, he reached over and slammed the partition shut, blocking him from your view. The room grew dark and you held your breath, listening as he moved in the compartment next to you. His door opened and slammed shut.

You hissed as bright light flooded your sight and you squinted to see a tall, dark silhouette framed by holy light.

The priest stepped into your side of the booth and shut the door behind him.  

You turned, confused. “Father?”

The priest opened his belt in the dark. “It’s time for your penance, girl.”

A big hand reached out and took hold of your hair, pulling you roughly to your feet. You gasped and bit your tongue, trying not to scream in the House of the Lord. He lifted you up and pressed himself against you, pushing you back into the hard wooden wall. He dropped his lips towards yours but did not leave a kiss, forcing you to imagine what he would taste like, what his mouth would feel like. His lips hovered over your mouth and across your jaw, dropping down to linger by your ear, breathing you in.

“You’re just full of sin, aren’t you?” The hand in your hair tightened and he licked at your throat.

“Yes, Father,” you grit, riding another wave of arousal. It dripped from your cunt; your musk filling the small space.  

“We’ll have to fuck it out of you,” he whispered, rocking his hips against you.

“W-what?” Your heart stopped as he spun you around; the fingers in your hair falling to grab your upper arm and shove. You tipped over, hands catching on the seat at the back of the booth; wood slamming hard against your palms. “Fuck!”

Hot hands ripped your skirt up and tore your panties down, letting them fall, pointless around your calves. He slid a thick finger between your thighs, reaching down to feel your leaking pussy.

“All this...sin,” he growled, shoving his finger deep inside of you. “So shameful.”

“Shameful, yes,” you whimpered, rocking back onto his hand, trying to get him to move.

He pulled his hand away and you cried pathetically, arching your back to press your ass against him. You were stopped by his hand as it cracked against your plump cheek.

“Needy,” he condemned, slapping again. “Filthy…” Another slap, fingers splayed. “Lustful…”

Your body was throbbing, inside and out, from the deepest reaches to the surface of your skin. “Please.”

The final slap was delivered and you clenched your teeth as the hand moved away. You could hear the rustle of fabric as he dropped his pants, pulling the clerics away to deliver your true punishment.  

“Please, Father,” you begged, aching to be filled.

His hands returned, gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you back; the tip of his cock nudging against your heat.

“Please!”

“Slut.” He drove his cock hard into you, burning your flesh with his heat and the quick stretch of his hefty size.

“Fuck!”

His thrusts drove you wild, setting the pace for your heart as he tried to fuck the sin from your bones. You could barely stand, legs shaking as he slammed into you again and again. He was quiet, moaning through a clenched jaw as he worked; hands bruising your flesh, thighs leaving red marks where they struck your legs.

As his breathing quickened, his rhythm changed, picking up tempo as he neared the end. He reached forward with one hand and pressed his fingers to your clit, rubbing hard, forcing you to cum on his throbbing cock, helping him to let go. You milked him dry, cunt pulsing around him, and he stilled against your ass, breathing deeply, satisfied, tired.

He backed away and you could feel his cum drip from your pussy, leaking hot and steady down your inner thigh. He ripped at your panties, tearing the delicate sides apart, and wiped at your used cunt, cleaning up his mess. You turned then and sat, back aching, muscles quaking. He tossed the panties into your lap and laughed.

“Go forth, my child,” he said, voice dark and cracked, “and sin no more.”

He left you there in the dark, slamming the door closed behind him as he stepped out into the candlelight, black suit and shining shoes all you could see of him.

It took a moment for you to catch your breath, but when you did, you shoved the ruined panties into your purse and followed him, leaving the humid booth behind.

Dean was standing outside the door, frozen like a deer in headlights. You peeked around him to see Sam not far away, his face masked with annoyance and disbelief.

“Did you two actually just fuck in there?” he asked, flashlight beam hitting the confessional booth behind you.

Dean smirked and gave him a little shrug. “May-maybe?”

You slapped his arm. “Dude.”

Sam’s eyes rolled mightily. “For fuck’s sake, guys. We’re on a case. This place is haunted and you’re...you’re… what the hell are you even doing?”

Dean was at a loss, so you stepped in. “Role playing?” you offered, but it did little more than trigger Sam’s gag reflex.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Hey!” Dean snapped, wagging a finger at him. “Watch your mouth, son. We’re in God’s House. Show some respect.”

Sam gasped, offended. “Me? You just-”

“Eh!” Dean held up a hand, halting Sam’s argument. “We’re on a case, Sam. For fuck’s sake, let’s stop this fooling around and get to work.”

With a wink your way, Father Dean headed off into the sacristy, on the hunt for a murderous spirit’s tether.

“You two are going to hell,” Sam muttered as he sighed and moved to follow.

You smiled and watched Dean’s pretty ass as he disappeared into the next room. “Yeah,” you agreed. “But worth it.”

2020 Forever Tags:

@67-chevy-baby @akhuna01 @amanda-teaches @autumnmoon @because-imma-lady-assface @blushingjared @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @classic-rock-angel @coopercharlie16 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansgirl215 @deans-baby-momma @deangirl7695 @deanwinchesterswitch @desiree---1986  @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @edge-oftonight @emoryhemsworth @eternal-elir @fandom-princess-forevermore @fangirlxwritesx67 @feelmyroarrrr @flamencodiva @focusonspn @herbologystudent252 @heycasbutt @hornyandsmol @ilovefanfic86 @i-love-superhero @ilsawasanacrobat @imjustadrummer @ivvitm1109 @joseyrw @justagirlinafandomworld @justcallmeasmodeus @katymacsupernatural @kittenofdoomage​ @laxe-from-outer-space @leatherandfrackles @lessons-of-red @letsby @letsdisneythings @lonewolf471 @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @meganwinchester1999 @melbelle45 @missjenniferb @mrswhozeewhatsis @mummybear  @onethirstyunicorn @our-jensen-ackles-love @screechingartisancashbailiff @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @starboycas @stephaniecanfield96us @stoneyggirl @squirrelnotsam @thebookisbtr @the-chocolate-moose @thehardcoveraddict @thevelvetseries @veevm @winchestersister55 @wendibird @winecatsandpizza @winterpoohbear

[chubbyreaderwriter]

Double Trouble

Arthur Curry x Plus Size/Chubby Reader x Mera 

Imagine: You agree to go out with Mera and Arthur but they can’t seem to keep their hands off you. 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, heavy touching, implied smut

- requested -

Masterlist

It had been the hardest moment of you life when Arthur and Mera had announced their relationship to you but it was the best day ever when they told you that they wanted you to be an equal part of it. You’d grown up with Arthur pretty much all your life and you had been inseparable. Even into adulthood, you two could be found together wherever you went and you had probably loved him the entire time. But when Arthur went to Atlantis and came back with Mera, you had been confused and jealous. You’d been jealous of her beauty and the way Arthur was completely taken with her after knowing her less than a week. But you were confused because you had found yourself as attracted to her as you were with Arthur. 

They literally looked like the ultimate power couple and you had backed off from them, avoiding their efforts to talk to you. When you finally got cornered by the both of them, that's when they hit you with their big news. You could remember it like it was yesterday. 

You grunted a little as you carried a heavy box of vegetables from the back of your truck into the back entrance into the kitchen of your small restaurant. Yeah, your job wasn't quite as glamorous as you'd hoped it to be. You turned around to get another box when you jumped back from the sight of Mera and Arthur standing in front of you, “Jesus Christ! Don’t sneak up on people like that, god damn.” Arthur outright laughed at your reaction while Mera only held a small smile of amusement on her face.

You sighed and looked at them, “Well spit it out then, what do you want?” “Don’t be like that, you’re the one that has been avoiding us.” You rolled your eyes at Arthur before walking between them to pick up the next box of stock. Arthur moved to the side to be out of your way and crossed him arms over his chest. “Mera and I are together and-” “You came all the way here just to tell me that, don’t you have better things to do than to boast about your relationship status?” 

Arthur groaned out of frustration, “If you’d just let me finish, then maybe I can get to the point.” This time, Mera stepped forward and placed her hand onto your shoulder to get you to turn to her. You wanted to hate her, but you couldn’t. She didn’t do anything wrong, none of them did. Trying not to let your emotions get the best of you, you stood and crossed your arms over your chest, the position being a little uncomfortable due to the puffy coat you were wearing. Your eyes flickered between the two before looking down at the ground. 

“We know how you feel about us and we want you to know that we both feel the same way. So, if you’ll have us, we’d like you to join us.” You furrowed your eyebrows, an angry expression on your face, were they playing some kind of prank on you? Instead of making a big scene, you scoffed, pushing past them both to get to your truck, “Yeah right, nice one guys but you’ll have to try harder than that to fool me.” 

Arthur wrapped his arm around your shoulders, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You were turned to face him and Mera was quick to step close to your other side. Almost ironically, you’d never felt as small as you did right now. Arthur leaned down and kissed you gently, while you felt a delicate hand running fingers through your hair. You panted softly when Arthur pulled away, “You’re crazy.” Arthur chuckled, “Yeah, ain’t we all?” 

That was three months ago and you’ve been slowly warming up to the idea that maybe it was going to work out just like they said it would. Because of your work and the fact that Arthur was an actual king now, there wasn't much time to spend with Mera and Arthur. Until now, you’d never been on a proper date with them. But now Arthur and Mera were spending a couple weeks on land and they wanted to spoil you as much as possible before they had to return back to Atlantis for their royal duties. 

Arthur told you that he was going to pick you up with Mera at about seven and told you that you should dress comfortable. For the past hour or so, you’ve just been sat on your bed in your towel, staring at your closet as if the perfect outfit was just going to fly out of it. You finally got up and started raiding through your closet. The weather was a little warm so you didn't have to worry about covering up too much. It was so difficult to pick an outfit that looked like you hadn't spent hours thinking if it was too much, except that was exactly what you were doing. You sighed before giving up and going with your trust jeans and a low cut, long sleeved grey shirt. It was one of your favourite shirts, because even though it was kind of plain, it showed off just the right amount of cleavage for you. You put on your black, heeled ankle boots and put on your black leather jacket. 

When it came to make up, you had never been very adventurous with it so you just put on some eyeshadow, mascara and a little bit of lipgloss. You styled your hair just how you liked it and went downstairs to wait for the knock on your door. You didn't have to wait very long before you heard a couple sets of footprints on your porch and a familiar heavy knock on your door. You got up and walked to the door, opening it to see how they looked although you knew that they would look good. They always did, you found it the tiniest bit unfair at times.

Arthur let out a low whistle at the sight of you, “ Damn, mami, I’ve missed that ass.” Mera nudged Arthur aside so she could step forward and wrap her arms around your waist and place a soft kiss on your lips, “I missed you as well, though not just your ass.” You laughed and let them lead you out of your house and into Arthur’s car. You and Mera sat in the back, Mera didn't like having one of you in the back so she sat with you in the back, having no problem with leaving Arthur by himself in the front. 

Mera held your hand on her lap while Arthur was driving and she traced patterns into the back of your hand, “I’m glad we have you all to ourselves for these next two weeks, my love.” You smiled, “Well, it’s not like you have any competition to be worried about.” Mera smirked, “Of course not, because everyone knows you’re ours.” She leaned over and cupped your cheek with her other hand, pulling you close for a passionate kiss. Arthur glanced up at the driver’s mirror and grinned, “You girls starting without me? That’s not very fair.” Mera pulled away and licked her bottom lip that had your lipgloss on it, “I just couldn't help myself.” 

When the car stopped, you got out of the car and recognised the place as a bar you and Arthur used to visit frequently but you hadn't really had the time to visit lately. You’d missed the place. Arthur wrapped his arm around your waist and Mera intertwined your fingers with the hand on your other side, the three of you walking inside. The owner knew you and Arthur pretty well so he didn't really ask any questions about the three of you, just glad to see you both happy. You told Mera to go get a table for you three while you and Arthur got the drinks. 

Arthur stood with his arm around your waist still but you could feel his arm dropping lower and lower until his hand was openly groping your ass. You nudged him with your shoulder but he only smirked, “Hey, you cant expect me to keep my hands to myself when you wear those jeans.” Rolling your eyes, you pulled away from him to take yours and Mera’s drinks to your table, sitting next to Mera on one side and Arthur sat on the other side of Mera. That was, until Mera needed to go to the bathroom so you shifted and moved to sit next to Arthur and Mera sat on the other side of you when she came back. 

The three of you talked about random things, but mostly Mera wanted to know what each of you were like when you were younger. “Arthur was a little shit in all honesty. I don't know how I put up with you.” Arthur pretended to be offended but you felt his hand on your thigh, “Maybe that’s true, but if I wasn't a little shit, then I wouldn't be very good at scaring your boyfriends away.” You swatted at his hand but the smirk on his face told you that he had very little intentions of letting go. 

Mera smiled at the two of you and moved her chair closer to you, her hand going onto your other thigh. You bit your lip and looked down under the table where your saw both their hands slowly moving back and forth on your thighs, inching their way higher each time. “I really don't think this is the place to do this, you guys.” Arthur grinned, “That mean you have another place in mind?” Mera moved closer to press her chest against your arm, her other hand twirling a strand of your hair around her finger, “Forgive us for being a tad too excited, it’s been too long since we've seen you.” “It was only a few weeks,” Mera smiled, “Exactly.” 

You kept your attention on Mera, watching her bite her lip as she looked you up and down and you cleared your throat. You held both of their wrists before they could move their hands any higher, “Lets go then, my place.” You don't think you’ve seen Arthur willingly leave a place that serves alcohol so quickly but in this situation, you weren't complaining. The three of you go into Arthur’s car and as soon as the engine started, Mera was on you. She leaned in close to you and kissed you deeply until you broke away for air and she trailed kisses all over your neck. Your head was tilted back and you bit your bottom lip as you made eye contact with Arthur through the mirror, “That’s hot. Never thought I’d live this fantasy so soon.” Mera rolled her eyes, “Shut up Arthur. Drive quicker and you’ll get your turn.” 

You closed your eyes as you felt Mera’s hand slide under your shirt and cup your breast over your bra. Arthur cleared his throat, “Don't touch her ass, I get first dibs on that.” Mera mumbled against your neck, “No promises, she looks too irresistible right now.” You had just started to feel another hand tugging at the waistband of your jeans when you felt the car stop. You realised that you were outside your house so you were quick to get out and you were eagerly followed by Arthur and Mera. 

As soon as you closed the door behind you, you felt two strong hands at your waist and you were turned around and picked up. Arthur wrapped your legs around his hips as his hands went to grab your ass through your jeans, “Mm, you have no idea how long I've waited to get my hands on this ass.” “I got a pretty good idea, we going to the bedroom or what?” Arthur grinned as he carried you upstairs, Mera close behind, taking her clothes off on the way, “I thought you’d never ask.”

A/N: Comment if you want a part two with smut

[ofcastora]

@lavolumnia replied to your post: i wanna read more from this AU

In which I continue the DiVerona Regency AU // Part 2 of me transforming Castora and Vivianne’s baking class into a Regency women’s archery club, inspired by this historical club and these outfits ft. Bridgerton-level historical accuracy. Also in which Castora becomes deeply invested in her mother-figure’s happiness and bears witness to a bodice ripper romance, but does not care for it at all. 

MENTIONED/APPEAR: Vivianne Sloane // @lavolumnia, Everett Craven // @evcravens, Priam Taravella // @priam-taravella, Cosimo Capulet (NPC), Silviana (NPC), the du Pont family, the Daly family

It was a truth universally acknowledged by all who had the misfortune of taking a stroll in Hyde Park in the morning hours in the month leading up to the Hyde Park Amazon’s Liston Hall showcase and ball that Lady Vivianne Sloane and Miss Castora Aguilar were very awful at archery. Nothing, sans for hanging at the Old Bailey for accidental homicide, would prevent them in their endeavors, however. 

Both ladies were quite indomitable and all members of the ton who sought a stroll and all squirrels seeking whatever squirrels sought quickly learned it was best to steer clear of them all together. On the bright side, while they made poor exhibition archers, perhaps in another life they would have made fine huntresses; neither of them had gotten anywhere near a bullseye, but they have gotten significantly closer to skewering a squirrel.

“It appears, Lady Vivianne, that we are actually getting worse.” 

“Nonsense.” Such a thing cannot be possible was the unspoken truth. 

Castora loosed another arrow. It did not land on the target, soaring high overhead and landing squarely in the tree behind it. “Perhaps you are, but I think my form is improving.” 

It was Vivianne’s turn to try; the arrow skimmed past the edge of the target, nestling itself in the dirt by the unfortunate tree that caught Castora’s arrow. 

“I can see that.” 

If the pair still had any arrows in the quiver, Castora was quite certain that Vivianne would have stabbed her with one. She gently placed her bow on the ground, fighting the impulse to break in two. It looked like Vivianne had the same thought as her. “Shall we?” she asked

This was, perhaps, the most depressing part of their practice sessions – collecting the evidence of their failures. 

“I suppose we have no choice –– unless you could hire a lady’s maid for this purpose?” 

“A lady’s maid for the sole purpose of fetching our arrows?” 

“I dare say she would have her work cut out for her.”

Castora pulled a stubborn arrow from the dirt, ignoring how it stained the hem of her dress. She took a look at their de facto practice field, something akin to distress on her face. “At least we did not lose any arrows in the Serpentine today,” she muttered. “Do you think it is too late to ‘come down with something’?” 

“Mrs. Silviana will have your head.” 

“Good. She can take it. She’s so often taken leave of her senses, maybe she’ll find use for my head,” Castora remarked. 

Vivianne raised an eyebrow, “You are quite bold to assume she has the sense to take advantage of such an opportunity.” 

They had reached the tree where Castora’s last arrow had lodged itself. Oh, damn it, she thought, seeing that it had landed about a foot taller than Castora herself. She jumped, trying to grab hold of it, but could not reach. 

Vivianne, who Castora was quite certain could reach it, stood by watching the younger woman take out all her energy on an arrow, the corners of her lips threatening to curve into a smile. 

A few more attempts occurred, each more feeble than the last. Castora leaned against the tree to catch her breath. “I simply have no wish to embarrass myself in front of the ton, Lady Vivianne – yes, I am keenly aware of the irony.”

"Surely you cannot be afraid of them?” Vivianne asked. Castora wished she could read her expressions better – was the woman surprised by this? Disappointed? 

“I am aware of the reality of my circumstances,” she said grimly. “And I feel like I have exhausted my quiver of accidents for this season.” Castora was a wit, a court jester the ton tolerated despite her father conning half of their father’s out of a not-insignificant sum of money because of powerful friends, a beautiful cousin they would all like to wed (or bed), and because someone had to provide some amusement, but their tolerance was ever-wavering tightrope. She could walk it, but she would always teeter. 

The fall was inevitable. 

Vivianne looked seriously at Castora, then smirked. “Yes, that game of Pall-Mall was certainly something.”

Castora’s cheeks burned. “It was an accident and Priam Taravella knows it.”

“If your aim with a bow and arrow is any indication of your aim in general, I believe you.” It was not. They both knew that – and Castora had surmised that Vivianne realized that she had been aiming for her future-stepson-in-law’s head, but that was to be expected when the beast knocked her own ball out of the way on purpose. “If it is any consolation, Miss Castora, I promise that I will be there with you to suffer Silviana and that exhibition together.” 

“Thank you.” She understood the hidden meaning – no one would insult her at the Exhibition with a future duchess by her side. 

Vivianne stepped forward, easily reaching the arrow. 

Snap. In her efforts, the arrow had split – the tip and a quarter of the shaft remained lodged in a tree. Vivianne glowered at the remnants of the arrow in her hand. 

“If I have to look at another arrow today, I think I might die.” 

“I quite agree, Miss Castora.” She was quiet for a long moment.  Then, she asked, “How about tea?”

--

A maid poured their tea and quietly left. Castora looked around at Vivianne’s apartments in wonder – surely, this was the most beautiful place she had ever been in. If I ever have the funds to decorate my own lodgings, I should like to make it look like this, Castora thought. 

“Who do you picture when you fire an arrow?” she asked. Vivianne sipped her tea, thinking over the question carefully. 

“Silviana,” she answered. “And a few others, but lately mostly Silviana. And yourself?”

“Silviana, too.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was not the whole truth. “I take turns picturing all the people who have made me cross.”

“And somehow you rarely hit your target.”

“Perhaps I would have more luck if the person I wished to strike was in the vicinity. There is only so much the imagination can do.”

A lull fell over the conversation. “I suppose you must quit this place when you and the Duke marry.” An odd expression crossed over her face at the word marry.

“Nonsense – this is mine.”

“Yours? How?”

“My late father bequeathed to his cousin, Philip Allard, in his will -–”

“–– The Duke of Beaufort?” 

“Yes. His only daughter, Lady Daphne, is married.” Castora detected a hint of a grimace in Vivianne’s voice. “Since the family hates London, he saw no use for the property, so he gave it to me.” 

Ah. This was as close to Vivianne’s as it could be, and yet it did not truly belong to her. It was charity. It was alms for a less fortunate relative. Castora understood. At least Vivianne owned something, bittersweet though it may be. 

“My distant cousin who inherited Uppercross after my Andrés’s passing pays for my lodgings in London for the Season.”

“Do you reside at Uppercross the rest of the year?”

“No,” Castora scoffed. Uppercross wasn’t the home she had as a child, the one she lost twice over. It did not belong to her anymore. It never did. “I usually take invitations from friends in the countryside. I toured the Lakes with Lady Pandora the last year.” 

“Your mother does not miss you?” It did not surprise her that Vivianne knew that her father was gone, but did not know what happened to her mother. No one really cared what befell Isabella Aguilar in the wake of her husband’s scandal. 

“My mother is dead,” Castora replied flatly.

“Mine is too.”

“I suppose that makes us both orphans.”

“It’s quite an ugly word, do you not agree?” Vivianne sipped her tea. “It comes from the Greek word orphanos, which means ‘bereaved.’”

“Orphanos.” Castora tested the word on her tongue. “You are right. It’s ugly. What is the best way to shed the label, orphan, do you think?” 

“Why, marriage, of course.”

Castora hesitated before asking, “Is that why you are marrying Duke Capulet?” It was odd, their match – after all, before all this Vivianne Sloane had been a spinster. 

Another one of Vivianne’s inscrutable expressions crossed her face. “No. Not the whole of it.”

“Is it a love match, then?”

“What constitutes a love match in your opinion?”

“The fool’s errand known as love, of course,” Castora replied. “But I suppose it can be a love match if you love his house, his title – I would hardly begrudge anyone a desire to become a duchess – although I would characterize that as a love arrangement, not a love match.” 

“I did not take you for a romantic – is that why you are still unmarried? Holding out for love, Miss Castora?” Such blunt questioning from anyone else would have offended her, but from Vivianne, Castora did not mind. 

“I do not wish to marry.” Only the greatest love could persuade me...or an offer from a Duke, a Marquess, an Earl, or a Viscount. Barons and men with gambling debts need not apply. Both options struck her as improbable, if not outright impossible. “It seems to me that every marriage I’ve witnessed has only brought misery...particularly for the women in the match.” Sure, her Uncle Aguilar’s marriage was quite happy by all accounts – surely, it helped that Ramona’s mother died young before the marriage had time to sour. 

Vivianne seemed curious. “What do you intend to do then?”

“My cousin, Ramona, is adored by the ton. She shall marry well.”

“And what if you received an offer from someone suitable?” 

“I would...consider it, as long as he is not a drunkard or a gambler. Actually, I believe I could deal with a drunkard. No gamblers,” she said. “Anything is better than ending up as a....governess.”

“I could not picture you spending your days tutoring children.” 

“My mother was one, actually, before she married. She worked for a good family, too. One that Vivianne was likely acquainted with. That was the other thing about Isabella Aguilar – she was intelligent. She was unfortunate, but bright. Love robbed her off her senses and killed her in the poorhouse. “She was unable to get back into the line of work with a child, however.” 

“Children complicate matters,” Vivianne said solemnly. The rumors of Vivianne Sloane’s first Season being delayed by a year floated back to the top of Castora’s head; there were whispers of a bastard child, but Castora had know interest in Vivianne’s secrets unless she chose to share them with her. 

“We do,” Castora said. “Lady Vivianne – I hope this goes without saying, but could you –– could you not repeat that my mother was a governess?” 

She nodded. “You have my word. Drink your tea, Castora. Before it gets cold.”

--

Liston Hall was a lovely country estate of middling size; it was pretty, spacious, and very green, everything a country estate ought to be, but it paled in comparison to the surrounding homes such as Campden Court. The true glory of Liston Hall was its apple orchard, where the archery exhibition would be held. 

Castora had not been to Gloucestershire since she was a child, accompanying her mother and forced to bear witness to her demise. During her year here, she had never been to Linton. The families of the other Gloucestershire estates – the Craven’s of Campden Court, the Daly’s of Aubrey Park, and the du Pont’s of Kellnych Hall – were not the type to deign to visit Linton Hall.

At least, that’s how Castora remembered them. She prayed that some things never changed. 

Whether or not the neighboring aristocrats visited seemed irrespective today – more than half the ton was here, but no one in the ton that Castora actually liked –-- except for Vivianne.

Who she could not find. 

Good God – she had one friend, or one person who was close to a friend, here and she could not find her. There was only so much small talk a girl coud do with a glass of lemonade, as anything stronger would not be served until dinner.

Leaving the hall to look for Vivianne, Castora collided into the chest of a gentleman, almost spilling her lemonade all over him.  Well, perhaps there was a splash or too on his shoes....and slight more than a splash on his white cravat. Said gentlemen did not seem angry so much as annoyed, however. Still, Castora wished she could melt into the floor.

“I apologize, sir, I am sorry,” she started, her cheeks aflame. 

“It is quite alright.” Oh no, this was worse – he was trying hard to be genteel about this. Something about his voice – and face, and countenance – looked familiar, but she could not place him. 

“Let me fetch a servant, perhaps they can....wash it?” 

He looked at her curiously, as though he was trying to place her, too. “I live at Campden Court – I shall send for a change of clothes direct.” 

Realization hit Castora like a ton of bricks. “You are Everett Craven, Marquess of Montrose.” She dropped into a courtesy and cursed every God for not answering her prayers. “I apologize again, my Lord.” 

He had come into the title several years ago with the death of his father and was one of the most desired bachelor’s in England –– and one of the most skilled at fending off ambitious mamas. He was almost more desired because he was, by all accounts, a proper gentleman who left rakish activities to the rest of his peers; it truly was a miracle he left London alive and unmarried.

She had heard more fearsome stories about him, however. The Season before her and Ramona’s debut, he accompanied Catherine Daly to London, as Lord Daly was unwell at the time, and practically bit off the head of every man who came near her.

“I am. Pardon me – have we met before, my lady?” 

Yes. See, while Isabella Aguilar was unable to find work as a governess, her former employer, the damned du Pont’s of Kellnych Hall, had found employment for Isabella at a lady’s maid to Lady Daly of Aubrey Park. She told them she was a widow, and with Bastian du Pont’s introduction, they accepted a lady’s maid with a child of the right age to be a playmate to their three daughters. 

Melting into the floor suddenly seemed insufficient. Perhaps she could suddenly collapse and die, like a lady in a novel, and be reincarnated as a bee. Yes, that seemed good. 

“No, I do not believe we have had the occasion, my lord.” She shook her head again, “Just Miss. Miss Castora Aguilar of Uppercross.”

“Castora? That is quite an––” 

"–– You can say unusual, my Lord. I cannot take offense since I have ruined your cravat.” At least it didn’t spill on his pants. 

He looked at her again. “Are you sure we have not met before?”

“Perhaps in London?” Castora lied. “London is full of faces and names, it’s hard to keep them all straight. Especially during the Season.”

Just as he was about to say something again, Vivianne rounded the corner. “Miss Castora, there you are ---” Whatever words were on her lips died when she saw the Marquess. It was quite a spectacular (and quite unsettling thing) to see Vivianne Sloane rendered speechless. 

She looked at the Marquess. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Is it too late to melt into the floor? Castora wondered, thinking about how to best extricate herself from the situation. 

Suddenly the lemonade-stained cravat seemed like the least of everyone’s problems. “Lady Vivianne,” the Marquess greeted. 

“Lord Montrose,” she said, similarly stiff. Neither pair seemed to notice Castora. They only had eyes for one another. God, now would be a lovely time to answer my call for death. 

She took a step backwards in the hopes of sneaking out and leaving them to...whatever was going to happen, but unfortunately, Fate had other plans for them as a person – namely, Duke Capulet – had rounded the corner in search of his wife-to-be. 

Duke Capulet was tall and distinguished with greyed hair; age suited him. He walked like someone who never doubted his importance and was unused to being denied. Castora had a difficult time thinking of him as anyone’s husband, or father, or guardian. 

“Montrose,” he said in greeting, falling back to Vivianne’s side. The man appeared jovial and pleasant, but there was an air of darkness about him – and he appeared to be in quite a fowl mood.

“Capulet,” the Marquess replied. Castora searched Vivianne’s eyes for a single clue as to what was happening. The future Duchess gave no indication that anything odd was going on. 

“What on earth happened to you, Montrose?” the Duke asked, gesturing to his clothes. 

“I was not watching where I was going and collided into the young lady whilst she carried some...water?”

“Lemonade,” Castora quietly corrected.  “The Marquess is too kind. This is my fault.”

“Regardless of whose fault it is, I hope you shall excuse me to get this matter sorted with.”

“Of course. Shall I see you at the exhibition, Montrose?” 

The Marquess nodded, made his courtesies, and left. 

The Duke’s attention fell to her, “And who are you?”

Vivianne answered for her, “Miss Castora of Uppercross, dear. She is in the Hyde Park Amazons with me.” The Marquess of Montrose seemed surprised at the revelation that Vivianne was in an archery club.

“Right, of course. You and Lady Vivianne have been hard at work these past few weeks, I have gathered.” He looked at her. “You are Aguilar’s girl, are you not?”

“His niece,” Castora said quickly, pretending not to know his meaning. “He passed away several years ago.”

The Duke did not stop. “Your father was an interesting character, more than what one would expect from one of Montague’s whelps. I think he tried to swindle me during a game of vingt-et-un.”

“My family is very lucky to consider the Montague’s our friends, my Lord,” she replied diplomatically, keenly aware that she could not afford to offend one of the most powerful men in the country.

“For your sake, Miss Castora, I pray the apple falls far from the tree. My dear, see that you never play cards with her,” he said with a snake oil smile. Castora supposed it was a charming smile, if one could ignore the malice hiding in his words. Still, she laughed at his joke.

And I pray the same for your daughter, you wretched man.

“If you will pardon me, my Lord, I think I am going to replace my lemonade.”

“Let me accompany you, Miss Castora,” Vivianne said. “We have much to discuss before the exhibition.”

They returned to the main hall, arm in arm. Castora squeezed Vivianne’s hand, and the woman squeezed back in silent apology. What reason is there to marry this man? Surely a duchy is not worth it? 

“I apologize for the Duke. He is not himself after travelling.”

There was something odd about resorting to pleasantries with Vivianne – they had so often bypassed them in their conversations in Hyde Park. A cold sensation settled into Castora’s bones.

“No apologies necessary, Lady Vivianne….how do you know the Marquess of Montrose?”

“Hmm?”

“It looked to be like you two knew each other.” 

“A lifetime ago. I did not think he would come.” Castora quietly wondered if Vivianne had been making the same prayers she had made on the journey over.

--

Castora was lined up with the other ladies of the Hyde Park Amazons...in the very back of the group, where no one could see her miss the target. Vivianne was not there. 

“Mrs. Silviana, have you seen Lady Vivianne?”

Silviana startled at Castora’s voice. “Oh, you are here.” 

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” She remarked before asking again, “Where is Lady Vivianne?”

Silviana’s eyes narrowed. “She has a headache and she is unable to join us. I am quite surprised, Miss Castora, that you do not have one as well.” 

Damn her, Castora cursed, Damn her for leaving me to fend for myself. Damn her for breaking her promise. 

“Are you alright, Miss Castora?” Silviana asked. 

No. I feel rather foolish, you useless twit, she thought bitterly. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Right, dear. And – do remember to aim, please?” She nodded and glared at Silviana’s retreating figure. Aim. She could do that. 

--

At last came time for the Exhibition. Gentlemen and ladies of the ton and other appropriate social circles gathered around the Hyde Park Amazons at a respectable distance, mostly on the sidelines by the tree. For this exhibit, the ladies were to fire five arrows and hit their targets. The more advanced archers would perform in a play about Artemis and her huntresses later in the day.

Five. You only have to get through five. 

On the first arrow, she thought of Vivianne and aimed. Predictably, she missed – not as poorly as usually, however. On the second arrow, she thought of Vivianne and aimed. She missed again.

On the third, Castora vowed to clear her mind. Do not aim for anything but the target. When the last thought melted away, Castora closed her eyes and fired the arrow. The audience gasped. 

Did I hit a bullseye? She opened her eyes to find that no, she had not hit the target. Her arrow was nowhere near the target. In fact, she could not see it all. Why is everyone staring at me?

The Hyde Park Amazon next to her, sensing Castora’s confusion, helpfully pointed at an apple tree towards the edge of their circle. Pinned to the tree by Castora’s arrow was a gentleman’s hat. One of the lower hanging apples helpfully fell to the ground. 

And not just any gentleman’s hat. No, it was Duke Capulet’s hat. The man was positively glowering at her. 

“Oops.” She swore quietly under her breath using a word she learned from Marcelo that no lady was supposed to know. I almost killed a duke. I almost killed a duke. Fuck, I almost killed a duke.

But she did not feel so bad for Cosimo Capulet after all. It wasn’t like she had stabbed him. It was only a hat, after all. It could be worse, Castora thought to herself. I could have swindled him during a game of vingt-et-un. 

Suffice to say, while the play continued without incident later in the evening, the ladies of the first exhibit did not fire their fourth and fifth arrows. 

--

After profusely apologizing to the Duke several times over, each time more insincere than the last, Castora excused herself from the luncheon with, appropriately, a headache. There

There was a knock at her door. Castora cautiously opened it to find Vivianne, standing in front of her right as rain. “Did you or did you not try to kill the Duke?” 

Castora ignored the question. “How is your headache, Lady Vivianne? I do hope you will be able to attend the ball.”

“Castora – did you try to kill the Duke?”

“No, of course not! Not intentionally at least! The only thing I ended up killing was his hat, and a trip to a good haberdashery could fix it right up!” She insisted.

Vivianne closed the door to Castora’s guest chamber behind her. “You deeply offended him, Castora,” she said seriously. 

“I was aiming for the target. I missed. That is not out of the ordinary for me, Lady Vivianne. Nor is it for you, and if you had shown up, you may have done worse!” 

“Perhaps, but as it stands, you are the one who accidentally attacked a duke. You also accidentally hit his future son-in-law in the face with a pall-mall ball several months ago – an incident of which the Duke is very much aware of. You can see why this...why this is problematic.” 

“It was an accident. I have offered to pay to replace the hat, an offer which the Duke said he is considering.”

“Castora, the Duke has strongly suggested to me that I find another hobby outside of the Amazons.”

Her face fell. But you’re my friend, the girl wanted to protest.  “He is not your husband, yet. He cannot make you do anything...unless you wish to leave.” 

“In some matters of life, what you want does not matter.” 

“Surely it does in this one?” 

Vivianne smiled bitterly, “Dear Castora, I forget how young you are sometimes.” 

With that, she left, closing the door behind her. Castora did not know why, but she had the sudden desire to cry for the first time since her mother’s death. 

--

There is absolutely no way this evening can get worse, Castora thought to herself as she prepared to enter the ballroom for the evening festivities. No chance in hell. 

Still, halfway to the ballroom she turned on her heel and thought best not to risk it. On the way back to her room, Castora decided that she did not want to sit in her room all evening and decided to visit the Liston Hall library. 

Scouring through the library, Castora settled on The Mysteries of Udolpho, a novel she had greedily consumed several years ago because Ramona suggested it. She had not liked it much, as Castora was not one for Gothic romances, but she was in no mood to explore. Take me away, Mrs. Radcliffe, to a world far less complicated than ours.

Settled by her desk, she was halfway through the second chapter when she heard two voices, one belonging to a man and the other to a woman, deep in the throes of an argument. The man dragged the woman into the library.

Castora froze – it was Lady Vivianne and Lord Everett. They did not see her from her position, and so they kept on spitting venom Castora did not comprehend at one another. Wishing to avoid another awkward encounter with the both of them, she simply sunk behind the desk before they could see her and waited for them to leave. 

About ten minutes later, they were still arguing and Castora still had no idea what in the hell was going on because she was trying not to eavesdrop, but sometimes she could not help it. 

But what she did hear was the Marquess of Montrose, voice laced with pain, asking Vivianne why she was marrying him. It did seem to be the question of the day. 

“Someone knows about Cyrus.” There was an eerie silence across the hall; Castora resisted the urge to emerge from her hiding place to ask Who is Cyrus? “They are trying to exhort me for money, but no one would dare come for me, or Cyrus, if I am Lady Capulet.” 

“How much? Who is blackmailing you?” Reasonable questions.  

“It matters not, Everett.” I fail to see how that is true.

“Vivianne, how can you say that?” Castora quietly noted the use of their Christian names, and quietly prayed to God for the upteenth time to day, that they would finish their argument somewhere else. 

“Because what is done is done. I cannot break this engagement.” Fair enough.

“You did not seem to have much of an issue with that before.” Ah, okay. There is that mystery solved.

“Don’t you dare. This is not remotely the same situation. If I do not marry Cosimo, then I will be ruined. Cyrus will be ruined. By association with me, Juliana will be ruined. I cannot have that.” A love arrangement, Castora realized. 

“I loved you,” the Marquess said. To Castora’s ears, it did not sound like his affections were in the past tense. Vivianne did not respond to Everett with words, but with actions. 

Oh no. Oh no. Dear God. From her hiding position under the desk, Castora saw the Marquess’s – clean – cravat flying off. Their….noises grew closer, and she heard someone place the other on the desk, knocking the copy of Udolpho off the table, but too far out of reach from Castora. 

How generous, Castora thought dryly, realizing that there would be no escape for her now. 

Castora covered her ears and cursing God, she laid back, and tried to think of England.

--

Much to Castora’s surprise, Silviana welcomed her back the following Thursday to the Hyde Park Amazons, remarking something along the lines of “At least we know you can hit something now, Mis Castora.” 

To everyone’s greater surprise, and Mrs. Silviana’s palpable disappointment, Vivianne showed up for practice. “I hope you are feeling better, Lady Vivianne. You can go and practice with Miss Castora in the back,” the instructor commanded. 

“I know the place,” the future Duchess replied, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of her voice, before  walking over to her and Castora’s usual spot. 

Castora could not look her in the eye. She refused to do so, for if she did, she would admit to all she saw and heard. Around 15 minutes went by of excruciating silence, before Lady Vivianne chose to break it. 

“How are you, Miss Castora?” 

“I am well.” I want to die. “How are you, Lady Vivianne? How is Lord Capulet’s hat?” 

“We are both fine,” she responded wryly. “Once the Duke calmed down, he did not object to me continuing on with the Hyde Park Amazon’s...you can look at me, Miss Castora, I will not bite your head off.”

Do not say anything, she commanded herself. Do not –– “Lady Vivianne, I was in the library during the Liston House ball.”

Vivianne, who was preparing to fire an arrow, loosened it without bothering to see where it landed. The blood drained from her face. “I do not know your meaning, Miss Castora.” 

“I wish I did not know my own meaning either.”

She lowered her voice, “How much did you hear?”

Too bloody much. “All of it, unfortunately. I did not intend to. I truly, truly did not intend to. I decided against going to the ball, and was trying to read when you and the Marquess entered. I thought it best to hide until you two were finished ––” Everything seemed like a poor choice of words, but Castora persisted. “–– And I did not intend to hear….so much.” 

Vivianne was silent for a long time. The girl in front of her was so distressed that she could not help but believe her, and then, “The Mysteries of Udolpho, really, Miss Castora?”

“I am not proud of it either. Listen, Lady Vivianne, I want to assure you that I...I will say nothing of...of, well, anything, to nobody. I do not know, or care, who Cyrus is. Or that you were once engaged to the Marquess, or that you two appear to still love each other very much.” 

“I appreciate your discretion, Miss Castora, but I must correct you on the last point. Whatever we had was in the past.”

“From where I stood, what was past seemed present.” 

“I would prefer if you did not discuss myself and the Marquess anymore.” 

“As you wish, Lady Vivianne –– however, there is one point, I do have an inquiry on. Who is blackmailing you and is there any way I can help?”

“No, dear girl, there is not.” 

The pair were quiet for a long moment. “I think you would be a better Marchioness than a Duchess. Marchioness Vivianne sounds better than Duchess Vivianne, does it not?”

“That is your opinion.”

“And what is yours?”

“Miss Castora, I thought we agreed not to speak about the Marquess anymore.”

“Yes, but in all honesty, I like him more than the Duke and I think you do, too. He is titled, wealthy, and is capable of weathering scandals. The Craven family is powerful. No one would dare come for a Marchioness of Montrose, either. If Duke Capulet was ever unwise enough to gamble with my father, I do not know how wise he will be in the future. And Juliana Capulet is set to be married in a month to a powerful, wealthy man. She could weather her father’s broken engagement if done with grace.”

“There are more forces at play here than you understand, Castora.” 

“Yes, but I understand enough to know that you do not deserve the misery that is to come with a life chained to Lord Capulet.” Yes, but after everything I was forced to witness in that library, this the least you could do for me. 

“And you are convinced the Marquess is a good man from the five minutes you saw of him?” 

“He is always kind to those lower than himself.” 

Vivianne laughed, “You are a romantic, after all.”

“No, I simply believe that the only reasons to marry are for great, true, unshakeable love, or comfort and protection. The Marquess appears ready to provide you with both,” Castora said.

“I did not realize you cared so much.”

I saw my mother collapse in on herself from misery; I will not see it happen again. “I--I like my friends to be happy, Lady Vivianne.” 

“Happiness requires miracles. You and I both know too well to believe in them.”

Castora could not argue with Vivianne on that point.

Mrs. Silviana screamed and ran up to the region her two least favorite students were exiled to. “Oh my God, you did it! Which one of you did this?” 

The pair followed her gaze to the target where the last arrow Lady Vivianne fired had landed in the center of the target. A bullseye. 

For a moment, Vivianne Sloane and Castora Aguilar both believed in miracles. 

[gingerwritess]

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" / "Isn't it time you died?" pRE-DATING IDIOTS AKHKSHDKAJSJ

uh ohhh did i completely ignore the quote you gave me and decide to focus on only the “pre-dating idiots” part ???

Y E P

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

You can count all the times you’ve encountered Loki Laufeyson on one hand.

It only takes two fingers. You’re not exactly friends.

The first time ended so well, with his torso punctured by bullets and Loki frowning across your office at you pulling the trigger with your eyes squeezed shut—the second accidental encounter in the showers was no better.

After swearing off communal showers altogether and deciding to completely avoid the psychiatric floor of the tower, you expected your days running into a god with slightly greasy hair might be over.

But he’s in your office again.

Already lounging comfortably in your chair, ankles crossed up on your desk.

He sits up when you slip in the door, trying not to bring any attention to the fact that you’re exactly seventeen minutes late, and for half a second Loki looks just as surprised as you are.

Although, Loki doesn’t whip out a taser with a quick shriek of fright and jolt his body with a good 50,000 volts of pure electricity.

Nope, you’ve got that part covered.

You weren’t expecting him to actually pass out, but he crumples onto your desk before you’ve caught your breath, eyes rolling back in his head.

Twitching.

His mouth is still half open with the almost “not you agai—” he was trying to get out.

Note to self: tasing a god works much better than shooting him.

“What the hell are you doing in here??” You hiss, tossing the taser on your desk and shoving him hard in the arm.

Loki just…jiggles.

Okay, you weren’t expecting him to be that deeply unconscious.

“Loki?”

No response. You poke him a couple times with the end of a pencil—he just twitches a couple more times, body jolting with a few leftover sparks.

Oh god.

People come in here. Appointments, meetings, memos, your coworkers and supervisors come in here constantly, and now you have the highest secured prisoner in the tower unconscious on your desk.

You give him a good shove and hiss his name, only for him to flop onto the floor with a loud thud.

Oop.

Cringing and praying nobody heard that, you hurry to the door and shut it, just in case.

He’s out cold.

You tug a lock of his hair, flick him on the forehead, pinch his arm, and he still doesn’t move.

His skin is strangely cold, now that you’re actually touching him. Feels normal otherwise, though you didn’t really know what else to expect—I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever touched a god before.

But he seems pretty…human, up close.

Having his cheek squished into the hardwood floors is certainly helping, and oh—yep, okay, now he’s drooling.

This guy threatened you?

Power feels good, let’s just get that out there now. It’s a thrilling rush, a little fizz in your soul that you never want to lose, knowing that you just took down a god.

What you’ll actually do with him until he wakes up…yeah, that’s a good question.

After a pointless ten-minute struggle of trying to drag his body behind a filing cabinet, his legs still stick out a mile in plain sight, so you have to haul his limp ass back to your desk—under it seems to be the only option.

Common sense seems to be telling you to please, please just call security, but your idiot side of the brain is curious.

It’s just weird, why he keeps showing up in your way, out of all the other employees here; you just want to ask him. Just want to…try your hand at a little interrogating.

Knowing you have the power to knock him out might already be getting to your head.

Well, that, and Loki looks like an idiot.

That whole terrifying image you’d had of him, the one where his blue eyes were rimmed with red and flashing across tv screens with warnings, that image of him sneering at you in the showers, him unaffectedly covered in bullet holes, put there by you—gone.

All you can see—and will ever see—now is Loki, god of mischief, quite literally shoved under your desk.

Butt in the air, face smushed against the floor, arms flopping by his sides.

Almost an hour later, Maria Hill stops by, knocking on your door and peeking her head inside.

“Did you get the transmission from Hungary?”

“Working on it now,” you smile, tapping your computer. “Need anything?”

“Nope, just checking, keep it up.” She looks a little distracted, reaching up to press a button on her earpiece. “Oh! I should tell you, Loki’s being pretty cooperative today.

You blink.

“I-is he really?”

At that exact moment, of all the moments in the world, a cold hand wraps around your ankle and gives your leg a very telling, very rough tug.

You have to bite your tongue not to squeak.

“His therapist told us the session they just ended went better than ever,” Hill continues, over a paper on her clipboard as she does, “we upped his visits to three times a day, seems to be helping. Thought you might want to know since you’ve had a couple run-ins with him.”

“Nah,” you croak out when Loki squeezes your ankle harder, “don’t care!”

“Oh.” She shoots you a strange look. “Okay…well, still stay away from him if you can. He’s still extremely unstable.”

You nod vigorously, the possibilities of everything that could go wrong with having Loki hidden under your desk ricocheting around your mind.

Particularly the one scenario where his fingers crawl any higher up your leg.

Or the one where Maria Hill, who holds your fate at this company in her bare hands, finds Loki under your desk—and not at therapy—and you get fired to hell.

“You okay? Don’t look so good.”

“Just peachy!” You laugh, waving her away and going back to your computer despite the grip on your ankle tightening. “I’ll get this back to you as soon as I can.”

Thankfully she flashes you a smile and a nod and shuts the door behind her.

You immediately fumble for your taser as Loki shoves your rolling chair away from the desk, spilling out from under it with a groan.

“Don’t move,” you hiss, jumping to your feet and pointing the taser in his face. “Get up, sit in the chair. Quick.”

“Do you have to put me there? Couldn’t have possibly lain me out somewhere, given me a pillow?” He rubs his aching cheek with a scowl, fingers finding the trail of drool down to his jaw and quickly wiping it away.

You might’ve imagined it, but it sure did look like his cheeks reddened upon feeling it there.

He’s back to a dreadfully annoyed scowl, glaring daggers at you as you hold the taser all the way out in front of you, eyes wide and clearly, laughably terrified.

“You almost fooled me, mortal,” he chuckles, slowly raising empty palms to you as he sinks into your desk chair. “I thought you quit. But you haven’t scurried off quite yet, have you, hm?”

“I’m not going to let you ruin my future,” you snarl back, and by some miracle, your voice doesn’t shake. “A couple creepy guys aren’t going to force a decision like that on me.”

Loki nods, eyebrows twitching suspiciously as he looks at you sitting on the edge of your desk, your taser still at the ready.

“I’ll use it again.” You shake it, just for emphasis.

“I don’t doubt it.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the little room.

He just stares at you.

Loki does a lot of staring, you’ve noticed. From the showers incident to passing in the halls, he’s always staring.

“To be fair, I thought the office was empty.”

You blink, dropped back into reality by his strange accent.

“Why the fuck would you just assume it was up for grabs??”

“Oh, she has a mouth on her,” Loki laughs, leaning forward in the chair.

“Fuck you.”

He spreads his arms with a smug little smile. “Have it your way. You were, might I just add…” he glances at his bare wrist. “Exactly seventeen minutes late. Little rebel.”

“And why do you know my schedule?”

Loki sighs, evidently bored with all this and annoyed that you decided to come into work today. Like a normal person.

“I observe, you only watch. I reckon I know every employee’s schedule on this floor, I have to find some way to entertain myself…” he sighs again, dramatic and it just makes you want to slap him across the face. “Don’t flatter yourself, darling. It’s not just you.”

“Don’t call me darling.” Eyebrow raised, you slide off the desk with a slight boost of confidence at the fact that he’s not just stalking you. “What about the showers, then? Or the first time you were in here?”

“Ah, the time you used me as your personal shooting range?”

“…yeah.”

Okay, maybe you’re starting to feel a little bit bad about shooting him.

“Strange workings of the universe,” he hums, looking a little too relaxed in your chair now. “Our paths keep crossing. Believe me, if I had it my way, I’d keep well away from the likes of you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re offended?” He actually looks surprised, cocking his head a tiny bit to the side. “Do you want me to like you?”

Your eyes widen—crap. “No, no, I just—that was a little mean. I mean, I, um, don’t want people to hate me, obviously, but, uh…we’re getting off-topic.”

Very smooth, self, very smooth.

Loki seems to be mildly amused.

“Hill said you were in therapy,” you quickly snap, frustrated at yourself for slipping. “But you’ve been under my desk for the past hour and a half. What’s that about?”

“See, if you hadn’t been so eager to electrocute me, I could’ve explained myself.”

“Well, what else was I supposed to—”

“Anyways,” he butts in, shaking his head, like you are the problem here, the little—

“I’m avoiding it, I thought that would be obvious.”

“Why avoid it?” You ask, and a tiny part of you is actually genuinely curious; “Therapy’s good for you.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy talking about my feelings.”

You gasp. “No…you??”

Halfway through your first snort of laughter and a chunk of snow hits you across the face.

“What the hell,” you sputter, swiping the wet slosh off your cheek. “It’s fucking August, Loki, why—”

“Beyond your comprehension,” he hums, clearly pleased with himself. “I already told you. I don’t like talking about my emotions.”

“That’s really unhealthy. Someday you’ll just explode and you’ll be miserable.”

He points at his chest with a small smile. “I’ll keep all my emotions right here, thank you. Then one day, I’ll just…die.”

“Great plan.”

“It seems to be doing just fine, given that they truly believe that I am in there, pouring out my darkest secrets to a stranger—”

“Who is in there then?”

You blinked—you blinked—and poof, there’s two Lokis.

Two.

Exactly the same, perfect clones of each other, both slightly spreading their arms in a silent what do you think?

You don’t know what to think.

“You drugged me,” you decide, blinking again in confusion and backing away. “Yeah, you drugged me, and I’m hallucinating.”

The two gods shake their heads. “Beyond your comprehension,” they repeat, a strange echo to their voices as they meld.

“So…” you rub your eyes, trying to figure out just what the hell is going on. “They’re talking to a clone of you?”

“A rather emotional one,” Loki laughs, waving a hand and the other clone fizzles into nothing. “I’m giving them the story they want, telling them all about my deranged pleas for attention, how my complete isolation led me to become starved for power and resort to seeking out drastic measures to obtain it…”

“That just makes you seem worse. You get that, right?”

He nods with a small shrug. “They have their ideas of who I am. Nothing at this point could change that, so I might as well speed along the process.”

“So that’s not the truth, then?”

“What?”

“You…being the villain.” None of this makes sense. I mean, it went downhill after you tased him, but then one snowball and two Loki’s later, it’s actually gotten worse. “The stereotypical villain, I mean.”

Loki pauses, gaze drifting away from you to the floor. “What makes you think that, mortal?”

“Just the way you said it,” you explain, “made me think that your clone is in there lying. I dunno, you just made it sound like a lie.”

The god laughs, a small, halfhearted chuckle that might even be able to be called nervous, and he pulls himself to his feet.

You catch him shoot a quick glance at your taser resting beside you, just in case.

“God of lies, da—”

The door swings open.

“I CAN EXPLAIN,” you nearly yell, bolting to the door and nearly running into agent Hill.

“What?” Papers fluttering to the ground around her, she gives you a look of pure bewilderment.

Then you turn around and understand why.

“Explain what, darling?”

Waitwaitwait.

That’s not Loki’s voice—oh god, you can recognise his voice now??

The man laughs and this time it’s you who’s doing the staring: that’s not Loki.

This man is blond.

Wearing a normal business suit.

Sitting on the edge of your desk.

“Forgive her,” he chuckles, pushing off your desk and coming to help pick up Hill’s paperwork, hand coming to rest on your back when he stands. “She’s a bit of a klutz, isn’t she?”

You gape.

Yes, get that dying fish look in your head, because at this point your head is as good as chopped off and stuck on ice.

“I’m sorry,” Hill slowly says to you, a smile starting to appear on her lips. “I didn’t know you had a meeting right now.”

Still staring.

“Oh, no, no,” Loki—or whoever this is—chuckles politely, “I stopped by unannounced, blame me if anyone.”

“And you are…”

“Laing.” Loki flashes a smile. You gape some more. “Doctor Robert Laing.”

Hill shakes his—Loki’s—hand. “Were you a new hire?”

“Ah, no…” Loki’s hand slips to your waist and you would scream, were it not for the inability for you to even lift your tongue. “I’m just here for her, just stopping by. I’m her, ah, well…you know. I’m her’s, she’s mine, that sort of thing.”

Wait. 

WHAT—

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

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud

[ephemeral-writings]

Everything I Need // 05

oh sehun x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 4.4k

Everything I Need // oh sehun teaches you a thing or two about life. but falling for the boy who lived across from you was not what you had anticipated.  

A/N– Hope you guys are doing well, staying safe and healthy. Please feel free to talk to me if you need a place to displace any anxiety you might have. Also, thank you to anyone that’s still reading this otl i’m sorry for the turtle--snail pace updates, but truly, thank you if you’re still showing interest in this story💓 Please leave me your thoughts!!! Enjoy reading!! 

Also, happy birthday to the love of my life, oh sehun; you’ve been my muse since day one and you’ll be my muse until the end. 

Part 01 / Part 02 / Part 03 / Part 04 / Part 05

//////

Somehow the dinners with Sehun became a common part of your routine. You would come home from your shift some nights, and Sehun, as if he had memorized your schedule, would knock on your door just minutes after you had returned, asking you if you had eaten yet. Before you knew it, a month had flown by, and then another half. 

A friendship, dare you say, was beginning to bloom between you and Sehun; however, whatever feelings you had reserved for the man was left unexplored. 

Sehun proved to be a man full of surprises, a new layer of his personality unveiling itself with every time you met up. One minute he’d be a gentleman, grilling meats and plating them on your plate before his own, or swapping dishes with you if you expressed even a mild dislike to the food you decidedly ordered. But next, he’d be teasing you nonstop about your small quirks like your tendency to neatly clean up after a meal-- you called it server tendency-- or how you might have a more serious case of RBF than he does. That argument was still up for debate.

Sehun, from the moments you’re allowed to ponder the man, was nothing you’d expected. His quiet nature that you once thought was from a place of cockiness and judgment turned out to be him being quite the shy and soft-spoken man. His actions, however, were what struck you the most surprised. Like when he’d randomly press his palm to your lower back whenever he ushers you back into your apartment at the end of the night, as if his body had naturally adapted to being close to you; or when he’d stare so intently into your eyes while you’re talking, towering over you easily with his stature, that you feel like he’s looking right into the depths of your soul-- the theatrics of it all was disconcerting. For the most part, despite all the chords he struck somewhat unconsciously, you were set in favor of his presence. 

The end of November was creeping in, and so was the cold weather. You realized that once you began layering a long-sleeve underneath your work shirt, and Chanyeol’s music was becoming a new definition of cozy. 

“So,” Chanyeol started. “My friend hooked me up with a gig this weekend. I’m thinking about inviting my partner. Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions?” He listed off as you’re both closing for the night. You’re closing out the register while Chanyeol stacked the chairs and swept the floor. 

“Give me a sec. You know better than to talk to me while I’m counting, Yeol,” you grumbled, finishing off your till five minutes later. “Okay, what’s up?” 

“I’m looking at this opportunity to show off my music a little, ya know? Plus, she’s also been more responsive, less edgy. Do you think she’ll agree to go?” 

“It doesn’t hurt to ask.” You offered. “Where’s this again?” 

“A pretty popular club among the kids at uni actually, called Love Shot,” he said. “You heard of it?” 

You racked through your head at the familiar name, and you finally realize that it was the club that Sehun worked at. 

“Yeah,” you said, nonchalantly before adding, “Went there for a party once.” 

Chanyeol stopped sweeping all together and looked at you as if you had five heads growing out of your neck. “Wait, you went to a party? At a club?” He half asked, half accused, and you almost got offended by his tone of voice, when he added, “And I wasn’t invited?” 

You reddened at the realization at how pathetic you must look to other people when you’ve quite successfully hermit yourself from social events, to the point that even Chanyeol finds it unbelievable. “Whatever, Yeol, that isn’t important right now. We’re talking about you.” 

“Nu-uh, this changes things. I wasn’t gonna pressure you to come because I know how you are,” you frown deeply at that, to which Chanyeol only points a knowing brow at you. “But, now you have to come, Y/N. You could wing-man me!” He exclaimed as if it was the most ingenious idea he had ever manifested. 

“First of all, I don’t know the first thing about wingmanning, you don’t want me to wingman-- or is it wingwoman? you, dude.” You quickly objected to the idea flat out. You could just see it now, you trying to hype Chanyeol and inadvertently making him look stupid instead(not that he doesn’t play part in that himself alone), and by the end of it, you’ll probably make a fool of yourself by trying to rectify what was never there to begin with. 

“Please, Y/N,” he begged. “I want you there when I perform some of my new stuff.”

Chanyeol tried persuading you to go watch him perform at Love Shot for the remainder of the night until you finally relented. You don’t really even know why you’re so hesitant on going, but thinking about the night of Jongdae’s birthday makes your stomach churn anxiously. 

“Shit, it’s raining,” Chanyeol said when you’ve both clocked out. He nudged you with an elbow, saying, “Let’s go, I’ll drive you home.” 

Chanyeol drove a Jeep, one that you find very difficult to get in and out of, but you suppose a free ride home was better than getting caught in the rain. 

“You wanna come up? I could make something for us to eat?” You offered when nearing your apartment. 

“Sure,” Chanyeol shrugged, claiming anything was better than cereal for dinner. He parked his Jeep in the allotted spot for your unit and cut the engine while you’re pulling your hood over your head for the oncoming rain. “Wanna race?” 

“You could run, but you’ll slip and end up hurting yourself.” You chortled, imagining his lumber worth of limbs flailing in the air. Chanyeol ends up half walking, half jogging, heeding your warning as an afterthought than anything else. 

While you’re searching for your keys in your purse, footsteps coming up the stairs and voices belonging to young men echoes through the hall. It was Sehun, and he had friends with him--one of which you’ve met before in passing when he had dropped by Sehun’s place while you were also over(for only 5 minutes as you had to use his printer because yours had jammed). 

“Oh, it’s you again,” the guy aforementioned spoke, greeting you brightly afterwards. You returned the greeting, ever as awkward, shooting a less stiff one to Sehun as well while he returned a thoughtful look that had your cheeks warming. 

“Hi, I’m Baekhyun,” he said, thrusting a hand forward for Chanyeol to take.

“Park Chanyeol,” he replied, voice booming loudly, though not unkindly. 

The other man seemed familiar, and you realized after a closer look, it was the other bartender you saw the night of Jongdae’s birthday; he introduces himself as Kim Jongin. 

“Did you just get off?” It was Sehun who asked the question that was directed towards you. You nodded, characteristically shy from the attention of both Sehun and his friends. 

Something suddenly clicked in Chanyeol’s head then-- you distinctly recognize the spark that flashes across his pupils-- and you think absolutely nothing good could come from whatever he has working in his head. 

“We just got off; we work together. And you are?” Chanyeol questioned, tone nosy and maybe a tad bit menacing, but maybe it was because you knew him better. Sehun, having gone quieter than usual, simply tells him his name with no further insertion that would’ve qualmed Chanyeol’s brewing curiosity. 

“What a coincidence, these two work together, too,” Baekhyun said, gesturing towards Sehun and Jongin, and because Chanyeol felt like conjuring his inner Holmes, he inquired the said place in which the two--

“Awe fuck,” you thought, brain finally catching up with Chanyeol’s, and with the help of Baekhyun, Chanyeol’s formless scheme began taking shape. 

“No shit,” Chanyeol said, stretching out the first word as he turns to you with a sadistic almost-grin. You glared at him, attempting not to wear the anxiety on your face that could possibly, wordlessly confirm his suspicions that might or might not have already gone too far into his head. Chanyeol doesn’t mind your silent pleas to shut up. 

As the silent(and painful, for you) interaction between you and Chanyeol transpired, the three male stared, perplexed by the whole ordeal; one man in particular being more bothered by it than the rest. 

Sehun hadn’t expected you to talk about him to your friends or anything(even though he does to his’), but he’d be lying if the revelation didn’t strike him as surprising, or made him a tad bit upset. 

“Is something wrong?” Baekhyun eventually asked with a wry smile, breaking the tension between you and Chanyeol . 

Chanyeol promptly turned to them, slapping on his wide and creepy smile as he explained, “Y/N gets moody when she’s hungry, and she’s supposed to be making us food right about now.” They laughed hesitantly, not quite sure what to make of Chanyeol’s statement, until Sehun spoke up. 

“Don’t let us keep you, then.” Sehun nodded curtly, and without further ado, marched into his apartment with Baekhyun and Jongin following. Once they were out of sight, Chanyeol steered you into your own unit, muttering, “Guess I’m staying a little later than planned.” 

-

The week goes by bizarrely quick, what with Chanyeol’s constant tormenting through work and text. After that night, according to him, Sehun was your secret boyfriend whom you’ve been hiding, which was absolutely ridiculous, and you never failed to reject the notion every single time it was brought up. 

Thu 15:21 delivered 

‘Stop. Tagging. Me. In’

15:22 delivered

‘Relationship memes.’

Yeol Thu 15:24 received 

‘im being supportive’

‘its ur first relationship after all’

Chanyeol sent with the stupid face emoji blowing in a tissue attached to his message.

Thu 15:25 delivered

‘im blocking u’

In a blink of an eye, the weekend was at your doorstep. You spent over half an hour agonizing over what to wear, fumbled with your scant collection of makeup only to end up with a few strokes here and there to brighten your dull complexion and to open up your eyes from the evident lack of sleep, and in the end, you looked...decent. 

Suddenly, your phone dinged from across the room where it was charging. Chanyeol was reminding you that he was going on at 9pm, and also telling you how nervous he was because he just saw Eun walk in. 

20:24 delivered 

‘go say hi to her!!’

Yeol 20:25 received

‘GOING’

‘pray i don’t choke’

You grinned, sending him all the luck in the universe so that he doesn’t make a fool of himself. He’s worried about nothing, you thought, for Chanyeol was a kind, thoughtful, and humble guy, not that you’d ever tell him that yourself. Likewise, you’d like to think that he saw the good in you, despite it being so difficult for those qualities to reflect in your eyes, and it was why your friendship was so easy. 

As you’re walking out, your phone dinged again. It wasn’t from Chanyeol, but Sehun instead. 

Sehun 20:34 received

‘Hey, did I just see your friend at loveshot?’

‘Chanyeol? I think’

20:34 delivered

‘yeah, he said he’s performing there tonight’

You debated adding the fact that you were heading there right then, when suddenly, you contemplated your state of emotions, whether you were excited or anxious to see Sehun again, at Loveshot no less. It was certainly out of your comfort zone, hence the anxiety that bubbled away in your stomach, but Sehun was familiar now and Chanyeol’s a close friend, so it shouldn’t be that terrible. Right? 

Sehun didn’t reply immediately, to which you assumed was due to the fact that he was presently on duty. You arrived shortly after, seeing a decent sized queue outside of the club. You were about to shoot a text to Chanyeol to let him know you’d arrived when two messages came in at the same time. 

Yeol 20:52 received

‘U here yet?’

Sehun 20:52 received

‘does that mean i’ll see you tonight?’

Ignoring the latter message that short circuited your mind for a second, you responded to Chanyeol’s, and not two minutes later, he emerged from the club’s entrance, peeking around the crowd for your small stature. 

“Y/N!” He beckoned you over, whispered something to the bouncer’s ear, and you’re both walking back into the lively albeit dim space before you knew it. Chanyeol’s looking the best you had ever seen him; dressed to the nines in his dark denim over white graphic hoodie, paired with ripped, black jeans and chains draped along his right thigh, you think that this Eun girl would be a fool if she couldn’t see his efforts to impress her when Chanyeol lives in essentially five different hoodies. 

“I’m actually shocked that you made it, was sort of expecting you to flake last minute,” Chanyeol said, giving your outfit a subtle once-over and grinning when you rolled your eyes at him. You’re wearing a tight-fitting tank top, one that has lace edging the bust and cropped to your midriff, and to cover up from the cold, you wore a cropped black puffer jacket. Your bottom’s a pair of black high waisted jeans, the slightly flared at the ankles making you look longer than you really are especially with your ankle boots. 

“But then again, your secret boyfriend is working tonight, so maybe you’re really here for him, who knows,” he smirked with mirth swimming in his eyes. At that, you remembered Sehun’s message, its implications bringing warmth to your cheeks.

You shoved the tall idiot with an elbow, though it does little to affect him. He’s cackling to himself stupidly all the way until you both reach the bar, a destination you hadn’t noticed you were even heading towards, not with how Chanyeol’s dumb teasing had distracted you, making your cheeks flushed and heart race for nothing. Subtly, you scanned the vicinity for Sehun but spotted him nowhere in sight.

It was Jongin instead that took notice of you first. “Hey, it’s you again,” he said, voice throaty and silvery at the same time. The tone could easily be menacing had it not been for the kindness floating in his orbs or the disarming half-smile he gives you, as if he knew something that you didn’t. 

You managed a polite smile in response before Chanyeol abruptly pushed on your shoulders, forcefully planting you on one of the chairs, directly in front of the bar.

“I’m gonna head up now,” he tells you. “Get yourself comfortable before I introduce you to Eun later, cool?” 

Letting go of your petty bickering for a moment, you gave his forearms a placatory squeeze while wishing him good luck and off he went. 

“Can I grab you something to drink?” Jongin asked when Chanyeol was out of sight. You told him the same thing you told Sehun last time, giving him the freedom to choose for you. 

“Sehun’s slacking off somewhere,” Jongin said suddenly, distracting you from watching Chanyeol as he introduced himself. You clapped along with the crowd, though your brain had separated itself and you could only respond to Jongin with a questioning look. What made him think you were looking for Sehun? 

“Oh,” he exclaimed, staring over your right shoulder. “Speaking of the devil.” 

Sehun ignored the other boy all together, only looking at you as he spoke. “Hey, you never answered my text.” You turned to face him, his expression at first hard then gradually dissolving into something softer the longer he stared at you; he was in his uniform again, minus the velvet bow tie and plaid vest that you assume was specially worn for Jongdae’s birthday event. Even with just the striped button down, a few buttons undone from the top, he managed to garner more looks than you could’ve imagine. His arm goes to prop himself on the countertop as he leaned closer to you since his height was towering over you and glaringly so. You caught a whiff of his scent as you breathed in, attempting to calm your nerves, but laced with the familiar seaside breeze came the all too familiar acrid smell of cigarettes. It was nowhere near the stench that clung to your father’s breath, clothes, and skin, but the effect was there nonetheless.

“Y/N?” Sehun had repeated your name twice before you realized where you were, who he was, and how far you were from the past. His hand had barely grazed your arm when you snapped out of it, unknowingly with a recoil under his touch, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by both Sehun and Jongin. The former leaned in even closer, and asked in a hushed tone, “You okay?” 

Not trusting your voice, you only nodded while giving him a weak smile. “I - need to use the restroom, excuse me.” You tried to ignore Sehun’s imploring gaze on you as you got up and walked towards the direction of where the restrooms were.

“Get it together, Y/N,” you muttered under your breath as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. You willed your mind to focus on something-- anything-- that was presently in front of you, needed to get a grip on reality. It felt like your brain was being dissected, that your eyes were so distanced and while out of one window you saw your reflection, pale and panic stricken, you also saw your childhood home. You saw your father sitting in his chair with a lit cigarette between his fingers, and his face looking so far gone that he doesn’t even notice you standing right in front of him.  

“Well, well,” a voice started, echoing so suddenly on the tiles of the restroom that the image of your father dissipates all together at once. “It looks like my night just got a whole lot more interesting.” 

You turned your head, finally grasping onto something real, however unfortunate it was to be no one other than Liah. You groaned internally, from the dull pain in your head or from the prospect of the upcoming headache that the girl will cause? Take a wild guess. 

“Wow, didn’t know my existence had such an influence on you. I’m flattered,” you said, face blank as ever. 

Liah clucked her tongue, looking annoyed which was no surprise to you. “Don’t be a smartass, Y/N, no one likes a smart,” she drawled. This time you outwardly rolled your eyes, turning to the mirror again as you prepare to tie up your hair. It was getting uncomfortable with how heated your skin got after your little episode. 

“But I suppose it’s an upgrade from being a coward, hmm?” She mocked sympathy as if you keeping quiet to her belittling all those years ago wasn’t a result of how miserable she made your life. 

You’re trying hard not to lose your cool because the last thing you wanted was to stir something up that frankly shouldn’t be touched. But the word coward pulsates in your ears, clinging adamantly to your memory as it digs and digs for all the names your father has called you, worser than coward. Liah doesn’t mean shit to you, not anymore, you told yourself. 

You’ve washed your hand after successfully tying up your hair; it’s messy and unruly but you tell yourself it’s a damn look, especially as you turned, once again, to stare at Liah directly in the eye, and said, “Smartass or coward, I’d rather be those than someone who feeds off of other’s weaknesses.” 

If you’d bothered to stay and watch Liah’s reaction, you would’ve seen the utter hatred within her eyes as she tried to stare you into the submission she once did. 

You headed back to the bar, thankfully unscathed, but the unwelcome trip down memory lane mired your thoughts as you tried to recomposed yourself. 

Jongin was the one who caught your approaching figure first. He nudged Sehun who was polishing a glass by his side before taking a few steps away to tend to some patrons, leaving you and Sehun alone. Well, alone as alone could be when you’re standing in the middle of a packed club. 

You plopped back on the same chair from earlier, making as little eye contact as possible with the man. 

“You’re flushed,” Sehun bluntly noted. He stopped what he was doing to really look at you. With your hair up, there’s no hiding the rosy hue painting your cheeks and ears. You’d feel too hot with it down, so you bear Sehun’s scrutiny for the moment. 

“Because it’s getting hot in here,” you said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Are you making my drink again?” 

Sehun squinted at you before deciding to drop questioning your suspicious behavior. “Do you want sex-” 

“You don’t have to say the name, y’know,” you tell him quickly, a little panicked and fully blushing. Sehun outrightly smirked and somewhere between the music playing, you imagined Jongin’s laughter. 

“Your friend’s growing a fanclub up there,” he said, starting on the drink. 

You spun in your seat to see that Chanyeol indeed has some girls fawning over him. A few more tenacious ones slid, not-so-discreetly, crumpled up napkins with what you assume to have scribbled phone numbers on them. You gave credit that Chanyeol politely declined all advances on the spot; with a boyish grin and shake of his head, no one could get mad at that. It made him appear professional, but you also didn’t miss the way he would glance at a certain someone every time it happened. 

You snort while muttering, “Way to be subtle.” 

“What was that?” Sehun voiced. 

Turning your body back around to face him again, you said, “Nothing. Just that there’s gonna be some hearts broken, is all.” 

You don’t notice the way Sehun’s grip on the tumbler becomes tighter from your words. 

Sehun, for the most part, kept you company for the night. Jongin jumped in every once in a while, and you found him to be quite the clumsy yet the most suavest guy you’d ever met. He reminded you of another tall ogre and that in itself was something that allowed you to release your inhibitions for the night. 

“Alright, alright,” you slurred, “What do you call a bear with no teeth?” 

Jongin squinted at you, seemingly deep in thought, and opened his mouth to answer but someone else had beaten him to it.  

“A gummy bear! Why’re you going around telling my jokes?” Chanyeol blurted. He took advantage of the slouched over position you were in to give you a noogie. 

“Ugh, get your crummy hands off of me,” you groaned in protest, not bothering to lift your head to glare at the man. Instead your eyes settled the girl standing next to Chanyeol. “Oh? You must be Eun.”

“And you must be Y/N,” the girl smiled, and you could’ve sworn you heard Chanyeol’s heart beat right out of his chest. She offered you her hand, and before grabbing it, you suppressed the tickle in your bloodstream. You looked more sober in that split second than you probably felt.  

“Jeez, how much did she have to drink?” Yeol asked the two tenders. 

“Not too much,” Jongin supplied. “We cut her off after she started reciting psych theories to us,” he continued, to which you sing-songed replied with, “The more you know.” 

It made Eun giggle so that’s all that mattered. She easily slid into the seat next to you, and left Chanyeol towering over behind you two. Seeing as you were getting acquainted, he excused himself to go talk “business” with the owner. 

“Don’t go trying to make yourself sound cooler than you really are, Yeol,” you reprimanded, earning a half-smirk-half-shy-grin from Eun. Jongin offered to show Chanyeol the way to the owner’s office, leaving Sehun to tend once more. You whined for another cocktail, but the man remained steady in his stance to cut you off for the night. Eun doesn’t drink, so he offers her, and yourself, some club soda instead.

Eun was surprisingly easy to talk to; her voice seemed to lull you in like a siren and you think-- it’s no wonder Chanyeol was so taken by her. You have half a mind to straightforwardly tell her, “you know--  Chanyeol’s like-- ready to bust the fattest uwu for you, right?” but then that didn’t seem quite the way to go. You snort like an idiot, stopping Eun mid-sentence. Sehun and Eun exchanged looks. 

“You okay there, darling?” It was Eun who asked you while Sehun simultaneously mumbled, “Maybe we should’ve stopped at the first drink.” 

You repeatedly tell them “no, no no it’s not that,” but “I was just thinking about how good you and Chanyeol would be - together.” 

There was a pregnant silence after that, and you realized that wow, that was a big Not-a-Good-Wingwoman thing to say. Eun looked thoroughly blindsided, and if you could see clearly enough, you would’ve seen the quirk in her lips by your honest words. You let out an indignant sound from your throat, ready to apologize for your stupidity, when Eun suddenly let out an awkward but hearty laughter. Sehun had appeared amused whereas you looked like a fish out of its bowl. 

“Thank you, for saying that,” she smiled, making you beam in relief. You knew then that there was more to Eun than you realized. Her eyes glimmered with hope, or maybe it was apprehension, at the prospect of Chanyeol’s affection. 

Right then, Chanyeol’s voice boomed, “Alright, ladies,” startling both you and Eun. “Deal’s been sealed. You’re looking at a regular DJ of Loveshot,” he boasted, and as if you had planned it, you both rolled your eyes followed by the mandatory kudos, even by Sehun himself. 

“You girls ready to go?” Chanyeol asked. 

At the same time that Eun replied yes, you chimed, “I’m gonna stick around for a bit.” Chanyeol sent you a doubtful look, to which you fail-winked back at him while Eun wasn’t looking; he smiled, grateful at first, but then it morphed into something mischievous when he detected the man behind the bar watchful gaze on you. 

“Right then,” he echoed, then stared at Sehun when he asked, “Do you mind taking her home?”

Sehun, who had really only glanced at Chanyeol when he spoke to him, returned his eyes on you, and asked, “Do you mind waiting a bit?” 

How he manages to sound so soft and gentle yet all the same impassive in his speech unnerved you. You found yourself shaking your head, agreeing with him and whatever was to come. 

[mochikeiji]

Don't Own Me. [Tanaka/Kiyoko]

Pairing: Tanaka Ryuunosuke x Kiyoko Shimizu

Warnings: Mafia AU! Fem!Dom (yas queen) teeny weeny abuse, married.

a/n: I love Kiyoko's fem power ＼(;´□｀)/ I can only imagine what she'd be like a Mafia and is married with Tanaka— whom we all know is very very protective of her.

GIF is not mine!

Parenthesis is the song lyrics! You Don't Own Me by SAYGRACE

(You don't own me

I'm not just one of your many toys

You don't own me

Don't say I can't go with other boys)

"How many times have I told you to stay out of this meeting, Shimizu."

Tanaka can feel his insides boil as he stood from the dark office Kiyoko owns. Running the mafia group, and organizing meet ups was harder than it looks. The stack of papers on her desk that were once neatly placed, now scattered on the floor when Tanaka took his rage out from them.

"I am only doing my job, Tanaka. And I was summoned by Sugawara, I had my orders. It can't be help."

"And have other men with weapons on the same room as you, and can possibly shoot you at any time?"

He barks, a vain popping from his forehead. The more words Kiyoko was saying, the more he finds himself get angry.

"Tanaka, I am not a maiden in need. I know what their next moves would be, and I know for sure, this argument we are having will not get us anywhere."

Taking a sip from her wine glass, her own dark eyes meeting his possessive, and dangerous ones.

"And it's, Kiyoko san to you, Tanaka."

(And don't tell me what to do

Don't tell me what to say

And please, when I go out with you

Don't put me on display)

Going out with the big ones was always Kiyoko's way of fun. But after meeting Tanaka, he was the fifth party along with them.

Daichi was good at fitting in with the crowd. He was the one mostly in charge of following the targets until they lead them to a less crowded place for a, "intervention".

Sugawara would be hidden in the shadows at night, eliminating people that seemed like threats, as Asahi would be the deadliest, having to have a wickedly innocent smile, fooling many.

And there was Kiyoko, since having experience, she often lures men in with the art of seduction. Strong woman, she didn't need the other three or Tanaka to deal with the mess she's caused. She can easily cut off one's throat, and get away with it without having any suspicion placed on her.

And Tanaka? He wasn't on board of the idea of her seducing men. Bigger men.

"As if in goddamn hell will I allow this."

Sugawara sighs in frustration through his earpiece. This was getting no where again.

"Tanaka, stop."

Kiyoko places a hand on her fuming husband's shoulder, only to be pushed away.

"You better fucking not do this, Shimizu. I'm warning you."

They were inside a warehouse. Sugawara was on guard outside with Asahi. Tanaka being persistent, followed his wife inside. Which led to another lovers quarrel.

"It's my job, Tanaka. And your concern will not be entertained."

She clicks her gun— not even bothering to look behind her, she shoots a man out before he even had the chance.

With his mouth open, Tanaka flinches when he feels the hot tip of the gun underneath his chin. Kiyoko glaring menacingly at her husband.

"And I will not be put in display by my own husband."

(You don't own me

Don't try to change me in any way

You don't own me

Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay)

When you're part of a Mafia, don't expect you'll have a normal, loving relationship. Expect that it'll be fill with the smell of blood, and sex mixed together. A sadist, and a masochists coming out from your bodies, and the art of mastering a murderous look.

"Shimizu, when I married you, I swore that I would protect you with my entire being."

The two couple sat across eachother. Kiyoko on her own personal chair from her office, and Tanaka inform of her.

"And I can't fucking stand it when you go out there recklessly trying to get yourself killed."

Kiyoko would be lying if she said she was getting tired of having someone worry about her. She loves Tanaka. She really does, but this part she was starting to hate.

"Can't you just stay here in your office, and do whatever it is in here. Where it's safe."

Her chair screeching on the floor making Tanaka cringe. Her glass of wine shattering beside her foot as she walks around the table, pushing Tanaka by the chair down.

"You may be my husband."

She traces her fingers down on his chin, his forehead visible with a layer of sweat, the dominating aura of his wife making him submit.

"But I will never be tied down in this room, and I will never change from who I am today."

She quickly pulls back the chair with Tanaka up, the air suddenly punching his chest as he pants, watching Kiyoko open the door before walking out.

"You may be my husband, but I will never be owned by you or anyone."

(I don't tell you what to say

I don't tell you what to do

So just let me be myself

That's all I ask of you)

Kiyoko finds herself being pushed on bed by her husband almost forcefully. Her face was unfazed as Tanaka's glowed in frustration.

"That was a dirty stunt you did out there."

After having another meeting with an opposing gang. Kiyoko was at front row seat during the scene.

As always, men were pigs.

So she had her arms placed on the table, her chest on display as she worked her own seductive matters to get into the other side of the gang.

Everyone was lucky Nishinoya held Tanaka back from shooting the boss of the group from shamelessly staring at her breast like a piece of meat she was.

In the end, Kiyoko manages to hold off her own— when the boss was nearing to her face for a caress, she instantly takes him down on the table, the boys behind her pointing guns as hers pointed on the head.

"Lower your weapons, and I won't shoot him."

Long story short, everyone was freed to go when they gave the sack of cash they promised before.

Now here they were again.

"Did you have any idea what he might've done to you? What I might've done to him? I would've fucking shot him until my bullets run out. Why would would even do that?!"

His voice boomed in their room. Kiyoko was used to him being rowdy, and always having a loud voice, this wasn't bothering her at all. Only his personality.

"It was my job, Tan—"

"A job to be what!? Some kind of whore?!"

Offended, and hurt, she kneed his stomach hard, causing him to fumble in hid position, allowing her to be the one pushing him down on bed, a knee on his chest as she looks down.

"You don't see me do something when you're doing your part. You don't hear me mock you for doing your part, and you certainly don't see me use force force on you."

Each sentence was laced in venom. Kiyoko hated it when she was being called out for something she isn't. She hates how being a woman would always mean she has to have limits and not prove what she was capable of.

She was starting to hate how men like her husband could act this way.

"I never asked you anything, Tanaka."

Cupping cheek with a warm hand, sighing out the built up irritation to avoid getting angry.

"So please, as your wife. Just let me be, as I let you be free."

(I'm young and I love to be young

I'm free and I love to be free

To live my life the way I want

To say and do whatever I please)

Many of the men in their group wonder if their marriage was still stable. If they're relationship was still healthy since almost every after meeting, mission— they'd hear Tanaka's yelling, and some stuff being thrown on the ground. Or sometimes, him being thrown on the ground.

If you ever came across them, you'd would say, "Does Kiyoko really love Tanaka?", "Do you think Tanaka still loves her?"

You could count their marriage as partially abusive. Partially because they don't hurt each other on purpose. And because Tanaka has huge respect for Kiyoko, he will never lay a hand on her the wrong way.

"Kiyoko san, what are we?"

Kiyoko hums as she places her book down in her lap. Tanaka just staring out the window blinds deeply.

"I know we're married, but, do you really love me? Despite everything I do to you."

She stands up, and walks over him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind.

"I think I should be asking you that, Tanaka."

Placing her chin down on his head, lightly massaging his tensed shoulders, giving him a moment of relaxation.

"I should be saying that because I never really listen to you."

"But you're right about you and owning your life. And I shouldn't be meddling in it."

"Doesn't mean that I don't love you then."

She twists his head to her aide using her fingers, giving him a hot, short kiss— smiling through it before pulling away and looking him seriously in the eyes.

"I love you, Ryuu. But that doesn't mean that you'll ever own me."

[targaryenimagines]

I Have Nothing

Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,656

Summary: You had nothing without her, and the pain was becoming too much to handle.

Warnings: Suicidal Thoughts and Attempt

Prompt: "I Have Nothing" by Whitney Houston

A/N: I'm sorry if I offend anyone that wasn't my intention while making this story.

Share my life

Take me for what I am

'Cause I'll never change

All my colors for you

You didn't know when you fell in love with her. You didn't know the exact moment that your heart had chosen her. That your soul cried out for her.

You only know the unwavering love you now feel. The type of love that causes your heart to lurch when you see her. The type of love that makes everything around you brighter. The type of love that could be eternal if it was given the chance.

However, you know that she would never give you the time of day. She was your Khaleesi, the future ruler of Westeros. What would she want with you?

She could have anyone at the snap of her finger. Men and women fall over themselves trying to please her and to make their way into her bed. Even though she deserves so much more than that. You know that you would never be able to be the one that gave her more.

No matter how much you wanted to.

Take my love

I'll never ask for too much

Just all that you are

And everything that you do

You wanted nothing more than to hold her in your arms. To make her feel as safe and protected as she made you feel.

You wanted nothing more than for her to look at you and actually see you. Not some nameless face that would automatically get lost within the crowd.

You had been with Daenerys since Essos. You had watched her grow into the shining star she was now. The unwavering force that refused to be bent to anyone's whim.

However, sadly, you had been there to see people try. Wanting to conquer the unconquerable. Wanting Daenerys but not wanting everything that she had to offer. Wanting her to bend to their will and ideals.

You remember feeling your anger ignite each time someone tried. Not understanding why they wouldn't want someone as perfect as Daenerys the way she was.

You remember all the times she dismissed them from her presence. Remember the way hurt was so cleverly hidden within her gaze. You remember wanting nothing more than to erase that look from her eyes. Wanting to hold her close and show her that you would love her as she was.

Always.

I don't really need to look

Very much further

I don't want to have to go

Where you don't follow

As the years went by, however, you could never bring yourself to tell her. To say those three words that your entire being wanted to scream.

You were her ever loyal servant and that would never change. At least in this way you could always be there for her. Even if it was in such a small way.

I will hold it back again

This passion inside

Can't run from myself

There's nowhere to hide

When you made it to Westeros you couldn't help but the notice the growing distance between you and Daenerys. What already seemed as unreachable became something you could barely even see. However, you stayed her ever loyal servant. Watching as she set her plans into motion to conquer Westeros.

A land you weren't even sure was worth saving.

You watched, with pain in your heart, as Jon became closer with her. Tearing through her defenses like you never could. Being allowed to enjoy her company in a way you would never be able.

Afterall you were just a servant. Why would she ever want you?

So you simply stand back and watch as your heart shatters. You watch as her diplomatic smiles fall and become real ones. You watch as her mask starts to slip when in his presence.

You watch as the love of your life falls in love with someone else.

Don't make me close one more door

I don't want to hurt anymore

Stay in my arms if you dare

Or must I imagine you there

Everything happened in quick succession after that. Jon created a fool hardy plan to head beyond the wall, which everyone agreed with. Despite the idiocy of the plan, but you kept your mouth shut.

You weren't allowed to question those of a higher stature than you.

The days following Jon's departure were filled with a tense silence that seemed to ring out across the halls of Dragonstone. Daenerys becoming more and more irritable as time wore on. Only becoming worse as each day dragged from beginning to end.

Until, finally, Daenerys had enough and she decided she would be heading north. To rescue men that could possibly be dead already.

Men that had welcomed death into their embrace without thinking about the consequences.

Don't walk away from me

I have nothing, nothing, nothing

If I don't have you, you, you, you, you

You had pleaded with her not to go. Finally breaking free of your silent servant facade. Your need to protect her winning over anything else. Even if your body was telling you to back down you refused to. You couldn't let her go somewhere that she could very well never come back from.

You didn't think you would be able to take it if she were to be taken from you.

However with all your desperate words she simply stared at you with sadness in her gaze. A soft smile pulling at her lips as she continues to stare. Her words coming out even softer than the smile that had been threatening to slip onto her face. Telling you that she had to do this. That as queen she needed to protect her subjects, and that meant endangering her life to do so.

You tried to open your mouth that she was no use to anyone dead, but she was already gone. Drogon taking flight with his brothers and dissapearing into the clouds.

Your heart going with the shrinking figures in the sky.

You see through

Right to the heart of me

You break down my walls

With the strength of your love

When Daenerys had returned her light seemed to have been extinguished. Her body seemed to be caving in on itself. Her grief never showing but giving itself away in the slight movements that she made. In the movements that she tried so hard to hide, but you were able to see.

You could see that she was crumbling in on herself, and there was absolutely nothing you could do. You could only stay silently by her as she continued moving forward. Continued trying to take back Westeros, not only for herself now but for Viserion too.

You've never interacted with the dragons all the much, but you know how much Daenerys cares for them. You know that they are her children and seeing two, not three, in the sky rips your heart in half.

You couldn't even imagine what the sight must do to her.

So you stand diligently by her, waiting for the time when she would call upon you. Taking care to lower your gaze when her eyes start to mist. Or smiling brightly at her when her shoulders slacken, not enough for anyone but you to notice. Your smile trying to convey that she wasn't alone.

Your smile only growing larger when she would offer a half smile in return. Your heart thudding loudly against your chest.

Then you arrived at Winterfell, and everything changed once more.

I never knew

Love like I've known it with you

Will a memory survive

One I can hold on to?

Which brings you to where you are now. Standing in the highest tower of the castle. Looking over the vast land that surrounded it. The whiteness of the snow a stark contrast from the shimmering deserts of Essos.

Bringing your gaze towards the battlements you can see guards shifting restlessly. All nervously waiting for the Long Night to finally arrive. For the Night King to finally make his appearance with his army of the undead.

Moving your gaze towards the sky you couldn't help but think about how beautiful the world was around you, and how much more beautiful it would be with you gone.

Feeling your eyes starting to tear up you snap your gaze to the cool grey stone of the tower. Trying to shake the growing sense of trepidation away. You had to do this there was no other way to stop the pain.

The constant pain you were always in when seeing Daenerys and Jon together. Their happy faces imprinted onto your mind, and on constant repeat. A neverending taunt that tears you up inside. It rips your heart out with each moment it appears, and you couldn't take the pain anymore.

You thought that you had been making progress with Daenerys, but it was just a foolish fantasy in your mind. You were nothing compared to Jon Snow.

You are nothing compared to anyone.

You are just a lowly servant that's in love with her master. You are nothing and you will never be anything. At least not anymore.

You were foolish to think that she would ever actually see you. You were just another nameless face in the crowd.

How could you think you were anything more than that?

Assume you were special, when in reality you were barely worthy to even be in her presence. You are more worthless than the dirt on the bottom of a horse's hoof.

Moving towards the edge of the tower you look down. Seeing the long drop down causes your stomach to twist, but it would only be a moment of weightlessness and then all the pain would be gone. The world would be better off and you would not longer be a bother to Daenerys. A pest that doesn't know how let her love go.

Closing your eyes you breath in deeply. Taking in the cool, crisp air that the North offered for the last time. Your mind already set on what you had to do, and coming to peace with it.

However, before you could even step forward, slim arms wrap tightly around your waist and yank you back. Causing you topple over onto the floor.

Stunned you open your eyes and are met with the furious violet orbs of Daenerys.

I don't really need to look

Very much further

I don't want to have to go

Where you don't follow

I will hold it back again

This passion inside

I can't run from myself

There's nowhere to hide

Your love I'll remember forever

"What were you doing?" she hisses, her words coming out harsh against the silence of the night. You could see the anger clearly shining in her violet eyes. The anger causing her jaw to clench and her eyes to harden even more. However, you could see every emotion that she was feeling. A rare sight to see so openly being shown. You could see the worry and fear glowing in her gaze.

Opening your mouth you try to find the words to speak, but you can't. Turning your head so that you cheek is pressed against the cool stone of the floor you simply sigh. Your entire being wilting into yourself for being caught.

Not only being caught but being caught by the love your life. The woman that would, and could, never love you back. Oh how fate had a twisted sense of humor.

"Answer me, please," a soft voice pleads and your eyes snap back to your Khaleesi's. Seeing the tears that were starting to brim her usually impassive gaze causes you to jolt upright.

You speak before you're even aware of what you're about to say. "Your grace are you alright?"

A throaty chuckle escapes her lips and a gentle smile tugs at her lips. Feeling her warm hand cupping your cheek you couldn't help but lean into the warmth. The warmth that she always seemed to exude in excessive amounts.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question? After all it wasn't me that was about to plunge from this tower to certain death," she says, her voice coming out soft but her words seem to resonate in the space between the both of you.

Lowering your gaze you sigh and curse yourself for your weakness. You couldn't even do one simple thing right, and not only that but Daenerys of all people caught you.

Feeling her hand grip your chin and bring your gaze to meet yours causes a flush to spread across your cheeks. You had never been this close to your Khaleesi before, and for such a large quantity of time. You had no idea what to do or how to act.

Remembering her previous statement causes your flush to darken even more. "It was a momentary lapse in judgement, but I assure you it will never happen again."

A soft hum is your only response for a moment. Daenerys simply staring into your eyes before she finally responds. "I trust you, but I refuse to let any harm come to you. So you will be staying near me at all times so I can keep an eye on you. Do you understand?"

Stunned you simply nod in acceptance, which causes a slight smile to appear on her lips.

"Good, because I have no idea what I would have done if I was a second late."

"Wha-what?" you stutter out not believe what you're hearing.

Another soft smile flits across her face before she speaks. "I would probably berate myself for not telling you how much I love you, and how sorry I am for not showing it," she says, her words coming out harsh but you know the harshness wasn't directed at you. "I should have told you the moment I fell for you oh so long ago, but I've never been able to and because of that I could have lost you."

"I thought you didn't see me. That I was just another faceless servant to you," you say, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, but you know that you would never forget.

"I have always seen you but I've never had to courage to pursue you, and for that I will always be regretful. You have never been a nobody to me and you never will be. You will always be the woman that has stood by me through thick and thin since the beginning. The only person that can brighten my day, and make me feel better. The only person that wants me for me," she says, bringing her forehead to rest against yours.

A soft chuckle falls from your lips and tears of joy brim your eyes. You couldn't believe that after all this time Daenerys returned your feelings, but you still couldn't help but feel inadequate when it comes to Jon.

As if sensing your thoughts Daenerys smiles warmly at you. Her beautiful violet eyes shining with mirth and love. A look that you've never seen before. "Jon means nothing to me. He's a good friend, yes, but he will never complete me like you do. You are the flame that keeps me going."

Not being able to hold back anymore you bring your arms to wrap around her. Bringing your body as close to her as you possibly could. Feeling complete as she wraps her arms around you just as tightly. Her nose nuzzling into the top of your head.

With a warm smile you couldn't help but speak. Your words coming out in a whisper that resonate through the peaceful silence. "And you're the flame that has guided me home."

Feeling her arms tighten around you in response causes a content sigh to fall from your lips. Burrowing further into her warm embrace.

For there was no place you would rather be than in your Khaleesi's arms.

Your home.

Your everything.