#neither the present nor the future | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkstaria · 5 months ago

Text

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 5:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Sorry for the long weight everyone! I had to binge allll of Stranger Things for a friend's future birthday event and ohhh wow I thought the episodes were gonna be 20 minutes not 40-1hr

Also I suffered a bit of writers block, it happens

But regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

(also the taglist has migrated to the bottom of the fic because it's a bit too long now)

----

The office was large, sprawling walls contained by an even bigger ceiling. The faint humming of Tim’s computer provided no reassurance, nor did the soft leather of your seat. It felt as if you could sink right into it, and try to fade away. There was a faint aroma of coffee that lingered around the office, but it gave you no solace. It just reminded you of the mistakes you made, to end up here. The elephant in the room.

Tim’s smile was bright, a warm sun. You were burning.

“It’s.. nice to see you again.” You attempted, words stumbling about on your tongue. You couldn't help it, the mere presence of your soulmate sending anxiety skyrocketing down your spine. Why couldn't he just get to the point?

“I didn't really expect my company and Wayne Enterprises to be working together.” You continued, a fake smile plastered onto your face. “What a nice coincidence!”

“I hope for us to have a successful collaboration.” Tim replies, still smiling. “But enough about the companies, it's been so long since I've seen you, and I didn't have your number to text.”

You laugh in response, a pale imitation of a real laugh. You had hoped to focus on discussing the work you both had to do first, and then escape before any catch up talks were attempted. Unfortunately, it appears that Tim won't let you do any actual work before engaging with him.

Your nails dug into your knees, an attempt to stay calm. Your reply was measured.

“Oh are you sure? Surely it would be better to get work on the collaboration done first, then we’ll have all the time left to chat freely.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, really. We’ve got plenty of time together, and I wouldn't be able to work without knowing how you're doing lately. Since you didn't have the time to text, I presume you've been busy?”

“Ah, right! Yes! Yes I have been, busy that is, you know how it is with work. Endless and all that.” You were frustrated at being pushed into a lie already. Tim was in charge here and he knew it.

“Why don't you give me your number then?” His smile was perfect, as flawless as his manipulation. “That way, when you're too busy to remember to message, I can remind you.”

You frowned. Like he didn't know your number already.

Quickly remembering you had to smile, you gave him your number, watching as he slowly typed it in, then texted. Only when you showed you received his text did he relent.

The ‘meeting’ continued on from there, Tim asking about all your hobbies and passions. Time ticked on, daylight turning to evening. Any attempt from you to redirect the conversation to either himself or work was swiftly dismissed. A small part of you admired his skill, he was playing you like a doll. You knew it, but you had no option but to play along. It was like an older sibling playing pretend with the young sibling. You hated the comparison.

The attention was unnerving. Your only solace was that neither of you had soul animals present currently, which was an absolute miracle.

Actually… what if that isn't a coincidence at all? Could this too have been engineered? Was that even possible?

“So then what’s your opinion on..” The sound of Tim’s voice slammed you back to reality. You quickly focused back in, fearing losing any advantage due to a lack of attention.

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, the noise blazing a path through your eardrums. You jolted in surprise. Tim however, was barely rattled. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced at his phone.

“That was the Arkham Asylum breakout alarm. It's no longer safe to go outside.” With these words Tim got up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“What…?” You mumbled, horrified.

“Stay here.” He commanded, a firm tone in his voice. This was Red Robin. “I’m going to check on the building, don't leave, it isn't safe.”

“Wait! But.. the collaboration.. we didn't..” The words rushed out of your mouth, leaving you feeling like a fool as Tim paused for a moment, to look at you.

“Don't worry.” He smiled, the weight of it bearing down upon you. You felt small. “You can just come in tomorrow, I'm sure your company won't mind.” With the final word said, Tim closed the door, presumably rushing off to become Red Robin. The click of the door felt like a dismissal, a scolding. A reminder to stay in your place.

Once again, you were trapped.

You clenched your fists. He wanted you to stay here, in his territory. You didn't doubt that Wayne Enterprises had amazing security, probably some of the best considering the identities of the owners. This was likely the third most safe place in Gotham, with the first and second places going to Batman’s base and Wayne Manor.

But… you haven't learned anything yet. All that time spent with him and somehow he hadn't brought up that singular, obvious fact. There was no way he didn't know, not with the way he was acting. And yet, he hadn't brought it up. Why?

What was he getting out of this?

Was he hoping that if you assumed he didn't know then you could easily be monitored? Was he just gathering information before acting? Where was the rest of the vigilantes in this?

Your head was spinning, going in circles. You couldn't understand him, you couldn't understand any of them. Why choose to be vigilantes, knowing the costs that life endures? Why were you tied to them, when you were so against a fundamental part of their existence?

You couldn't understand this at all. How could this be the basis of a soulmate bond?

You were… opposites.

You felt the telltale beat of an oncoming headache. For your own sanity, you decided to fold the incoming soulmate crisis into a small cavity of your brain to panic about later.

Fact One: There was an ongoing Arkham Asylum breakout, everyone is either being attacked, hiding away or escaping the city.

Fact Two: Batman and all his partners are going to be occupied for at least several hours if not a day.

Fact Three: You were going to take advantage of this.

It was the perfect time. All your soulmates were occupied, so none of them would be able to pay any attention to you. Red Robin might know your identity, and so the other vigilantes may know as well.

That didn't need to matter. They may have the information, but information itself is useless, if they are unable to act.

Right now, any Gothamite that isn't involved with rogues is either hiding or escaping. You could join the escapes, and get out of Gotham in the rush.

You didn't have to stay here, to play the role of a caged bird. You could escape, before they even got a chance.

You had to try.

You suppressed a shaky sigh, getting up and walking to the door. You tried the door handle.

Locked.

Uh oh. You tried it again, and then a few more times after that, shaking the door eventually in your desperation. Oh come on! You desperately thought to yourself. The one time you finally got the perfect chance and it's being ruined by a locked door.

Wait. You glanced at the small window in the door, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in your head. You glance over at Tim’s desk, noticing a small paper weight. You smile.

Lifting the paperweight, you judge the weight to be enough. Holding it up, you get into position to throw.

Wait.. the door has a keyhole, not a sliding chain, you realize, almost too late.

Ah.

Well that would have been embarrassing.

Sadly, you place the paperweight back down. There goes that idea.

But that wasn't the only door in the office, there was another one, the one that the shouting voice left out of. You approach the door, trying the doorknob.

Click!

It opens! Giving a small laugh, you advance through the door and out into the halls of Wayne Enterprises, a jubilant smile on your face. Whoever was shouting at Tim earlier, you almost wanted to thank them.

You avoid the elevators, instead picking stairs, as you presumed they may also be in lockdown. It didn't take you too long to get down to the ground floor, since the main walking areas were now barren of people.

The ground floor had some unfortunate news to offer you though. The once wildly open doors had now been locked down and barred, an iron wall between you and freedom.

Although, maybe there was some other way, you thought, eyeing the anxious security guards patrolling the front entrance.

Pulling out of your hiding spot, you approach the guards, making to time your steps, making noise to not scare them. You really didn't want to get shot before you had even left the safety of the building.

“P-please help me!” You stuttered, trembling with tears in your eyes. The guards jolted in surprise, turning to face you. They were expecting threats from the outside, not the inside.

“I need to get home, I can't stay here.” You sobbed, the guards pausing in confusion. They didn't know what to do with you.

“What’s wrong?” A sympathetic guard asked, patting you gently on the back. You almost felt bad.

“I need to go home!” You repeated, tone frantic.

A disgruntled guard stepped up to you. ��Look, no one can leave right now. Company policy. It isn't safe, there's been an Arkham breakout. Just sit tight, and whatever’s waiting for you at home will be there when you get back.”

“N-no…” You mumbled. “You don't understand.. I have.. I have a cat, waiting for me.” You glance up, watching the expressions on their faces. They seem unmoved. “A-and my child!” You cry out, realizing you needed a better lie.

“A child?” The disgruntled guard repeated, sounding a little more sympathetic, but clearly not convinced. He eyed you up and down, evidentially thinking you looked a little too young.

“They're so little, but my cat likes to take care of them and I needed the money so, so I left them at home alone today. But recently they're been figuring out how to open doors and if anything happened to them I don't know what I’d d-” Your frantic lie is cut off, the disgruntled guard laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright listen. None of us can escort you, we're here on the job.”

You nodded, feeling exuberation rush through you.

“But if anything happened, run right back here, alright?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile on your face. The guards unlocked the doors, watching you dash out with frowns on their tired faces.

They were obvious to the beaming smirk on yours.

Nights in Gotham are by nature a little terrifying, but they're nothing compared to an Arkham breakout night. Shadows crawled up alleyways, the smell of booze and smoke lingering in a way it never could on normal nights. The terror was so pungent in the air, you could almost taste it. It was on the tip of your tongue.

Every so often you'd hear a scream, and you'd walk a little faster. Ideally you would have committed to the stealth route, but you had wasted enough time already.

Your house was on the way to the bus station, so you could easily pop in, grab essentials, and get out. You wouldn't lie, you were nervous. Every so often you’d feel your knees lose strength, and you'd have to fight with your body to regain the strength to stand.

But at this point it was either the horror of whatever your soulmates had in store for you, or the horrors of Arkham night. You'd already picked your poison, now it was time to swallow.

You took a breath in, then out, and continued walking. You were almost there.

The streets of Gotham stretched on endlessly, a cacophony of fear.

Just a bit longer.

A gunshot sounded nearby, the noise blasting through your eardrum.

Almost there.

The hum of a van's engine rushed through the night, haunting laughter echoing through the road.

You could see your house!

You beamed, a smile lighting up your face, as you practically skipped up to the entrance. You reached into your bag to withdraw your keys.

You had just retrieved them when a crowbar smashed into your head.

----

Wow umh, please pray for reader guys, this is NOT going well for them. Who do you think that was?

Me writing shenanigans for this chapter:

I just really feel like reader should smash open this window, let's do it. Wait. They wouldn't have doors that work like that. so reader sadly puts the heavy object down :(

Also me: yeah so reader lies here and it's an absolute mess

Also also me: rip reader that's a lotta head trauma omg

Sorry for the lack of soul animals this chapter :(( there's a reason I swear

The next chapter is definitely gonna be a bit insane, for sure! The soul animals return then anddd in droves!

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger @sociallyakwardpanda

@imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu

If I missed anyone out im super sorry! I generally check the replies for the current chapter and messages for people that want to be tagged, so it's possible for people to slip by

Just remind me again and I'll be sure to add you! (This also goes for if I misspell you accidentally, which also happens cuz I type them all manually)

For some reason I couldnt tag anymore people until I put a random space in-between the tags, so that's apparently a thing. If anyone has any ideas why, I'm listening

1K notes · View notes

jiminrings · 4 months ago

Text

if-then

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively.

alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.

[ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

notes: after being asked for literal years to write an alien au, it's finally here!!!! mwah thank u for patiently waiting :D

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s fond of appraising things.

He’s fond of assigning values to things that may or may not hold some bit of importance to his life, whether its value proves itself in the present or the future. Jungkook likes setting his literal ducks in a row, and the little inanimate yellow tokens that his brother brought back from Earth serve as a discreet (not really, though) reminder that he may have some hoarder tendencies.

Jungkook’s not really a hoarder-hoarder; it just happens that he likes keeping things, sometimes for no apparent reason at all.

He likes swiping the flashlights that the night guards use to stash in his own personal “emergency” (not that there’s ever been one, nor will there ever be) cabinet, just because he wants to be prepared for a natural catastrophe that won’t probably ever happen in his area. He’s already seen a couple of films that humans have made, and if ever comes a time that Planet Twell has a dinosaurian monster battle it out with a gigantic prehistoric ape, Jungkook’s proud to say that he has a couple flashlights for him and his brothers to use.

In addition, Jungkook likes picking flowers just before they go out of season. His eldest brother’s already cussed him out for it, but he’ll still do what he does best (?), if best means “preserving” the flowers by drowning them in water every ten minutes so they wouldn’t wilt and he’d still get to see them during off-peak days.

Prince Jungkook likes appraising things in his own definition and pace. They’re never categorized in his head for what they actually do, but for what kind of unexplainable fulfillment fills his chest whenever he thinks about the item.

The youngest prince of Twell didn’t like it when there was a commotion at the lily field and the citizens ran out to see what it was about, instead of eating their slices of cake with the fondant that he made out of scratch. Jungkook didn’t like the fondant either because there must be something insanely wrong with itself (or it’s just that he made it just as bad), but he didn’t like being alone either when finding out about the taste.

He didn’t like seeing the tiger lilies he planted himself squished underneath an unknown figure, who may or may not have fallen from the sky, judging by the way you’re wincing alone with no aircraft, no parachute, nor any other person with you.

Jungkook didn’t like seeing you, an alien, who’s just as confused with the entire ordeal. You can’t remember anything about how or why you’ve gotten here — all you know is your name and who you are, and unexpectedly so, the first prince who’s gotten to where you are isn’t so thrilled about the fact.

He’s fond of appraising things, and although he’s not extremely excited about you just as he had been when Yoongi brought home trinkets from him during his trip to Earth (including the very seeds for the tiger lilies you’ve destroyed), he’ll make do.

Jungkook will try and make you mean something, if not everything, to him.

Prince Jungkook has come to learn that you’re part human.

You’re neither fully his kind nor his type (or atleast that’s what he thinks so) and he doesn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to feel about only the slight panic that filled you knowing that it’s still unexplained of how or why you’re in Twell; even more, he doesn’t know what to feel that you’re neither scared nor intimidated by him.

You don’t know what to feel either when Jungkook, who’s only mildly shocked about your existence in general, delivers his first question to you and it’s not of the sort that you expected. He looks soft and round, unlike the hearsay about his kind that only amounts to half of you. He doesn’t look aloof and unaccepting at all — if anything, he looks at you like you’re the one who’s cruel instead of him.

Jungkook almost completely does not care about who you are or where you’re from, but what he cares about is if you have any trinkets with you that he could possibly have. Out of anything he could possibly solicit from you, he only asks for so little, no matter how odd.

“T-trinkets?” you squeak, brows raising in surprise. “I’m sorry, Prince Jungkook — y-you’re asking if I have trinkets so you could have them?”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pursed and cheeks puffed out as he confirms your confusion. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have a trinket.”

“Oh,” you blink once, twice, a small smile playing on your lips to replace the fact that you’ve been confused for the entire half hour since you came back to consciousness. “Happy birthday, prince.”

“I see.”

“It’s thank you,” you mutter automatically, coughing lightly when he only knits his brows at you. He’s cute this way — innocent, even. “I-I mean you’re supposed to say thank you when someone greets you, or when someone does something nice for you in general.”

“Okay. My brother forgot to teach me that,” Jungkook hums in recognition, eyes briefly glowing with a bluish hue before he regains his composure. “Thank you.”

You wonder if staring is also frowned upon in this planet.

You wonder if it would get you a mean glare or a sarcastic snicker if you were to stare at Prince Jungkook a little longer without any thoughts floating in your brain, except for the fact that you are completely unaware that you’re already zoning out on him.

You wonder if it would be wrong for your eyes to take in every single detail of him from his short hair that softly falls onto his forehead, to his supposed birthday attire that only consists of a white button-up, to his gleaming royal jewelry that rightfully so, only looks like it would belong to him and him only.

“Trinket?” he reminds you, head tilting and eyes widening as he cranes his neck to look at you beyond the table that separates the both of you.

“Oh! U-uhm,” you scour your pockets immediately just to present something, and bluntly put, you haven’t even checked your well-being, much less the possessions you have on yourself. You feel more than relieved to know that it isn’t empty, because oddly enough, you’d feel a little upset— a little down if you were to disappoint a prince you just met not more than an hour ago. “I have this handkerchief, I guess.”

“Perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, leaning to grab the baby blue square from you that’s embroidered with your initials that are unfamiliar to him. He clutches it into his hand tightly with a smile on his face, the happiness later dwindling when he realizes he has no clue of what he’s holding. “What is it supposed to do?”

You blank at that, meekly scratching your temple. “Nothing, I think. It’s just there for most people, but I’ve never had to use it.”

“You’ve never had to use it, but you still take it with you?” he attempts to clarify, a slight frown embedded into his lips as he looks down on your averagely prized possession.

“I don’t mean never as in never ever, and I’ve used it a couple of times like everyone else does, but it’s just-…” you trail off, shrugging helplessly because you can’t describe the concept of nothing to him easily. “It’s just there.”

You’re more than fatigued and a lot more confused (albeit less worried) about the semantics of your presence here in Twell, specifically in Prince Jungkook’s office, but the latter doesn’t seem to take mind as he takes you with an open mind.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have it,” he announces, shifting his eyes between you and your (his now) handkerchief that he’s slowly and hesitantly unraveling, only to put back into its original square form after every move.

“You will?” you almost snort, a tiny bit amused that a prince is clenching your handkerchief like its the most interesting thing in the galaxy.

“Yes,” he hums distractedly, looking up at you as he lightly scratches the embroidered teddy bear at the corner of the fold. “I will have you too.”

“You will?! You’re not going to dispose me or anything?” you straighten immediately, eyes more frantic and disbelieving to hear that you’re being taken care of (or something of the sort) than just awhile ago when you were unsure of your fate. “Why?”

“Don’t know,” Jungkook shrugs just as easily as you do. “I just want to.”

( ♡ )

Prince Jungkook isn’t so bad, and neither is Twell.

The planet isn’t so bad in the sense that although you don’t feel the most welcome you have ever been in your entire life, there’s a recognition that seeps into your bones that some of them, if not most, would set out a plate for you if ever Jungkook came into their homes. He’s the social butterfly of his family; the baby lamb that’s set out into the field to check up on everyone else and act as a mannequin of sorts that’s a little less superficial, and a little more warm.

Jungkook isn’t so bad either in the sense that although it’s the bare minimum to do so, he doesn’t throw his kindness back to your face even in the most critical situations, with now being the sole exception.

With the exception of now, Prince Jungkook has not ever acted rashly towards you. He wasn’t annoyed with you when you kept asking him questions of what it would mean to act as his security detail, and he wasn’t irked either when your questions about your heritage (and his by extension) toed personal lines that no one else would dare cross.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never acted rude towards you. He wasn’t as guarded with your existence like his older brothers were; as a matter of fact, he even came to your defense when some of them theorized that you were only here in their planet to act as a precursor for their downfall.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never been this cruel; with the ultimatum of his pride over your heart, he’s never made you feel this different and alienated from him — with, of course, the exception of now.

Heartbreak is a human emotion.

The weakness of the concept is disturbingly human and vulnerable. There’s no escape from it, even if the said percentage of human in your blood is barely half and could light a candle to your more evolved, far more powerful Twellian genes. It’s a sickening emotion to feel, much more have it get you carried away from what you have to do at hand.

The grip that said heartbreakhas on you is unimaginable, far more different than what your people, not humans, tell you how it’d feel like. There had already been an uproar when it was announced that you were appointed as Prince Jungkook’s guard, the news of an impure Twellian bearing the coveted position receiving every reaction possible — from fear, to distaste, and even to genuine amazement.

All of the kingdom’s advisers had theorized that despite you of being impure heritage, youwere superior in terms of physical capabilities. With everything else you’ve been theorized to lack at, you bite at the possibility that the ache in your chest is attributed to your stunted emotions.

You feel painfully human. You feel what heartbreak is, and compared to what others have made it out to be, it’s an emotion that you can’t put into words.

“You can’t, Jungkook,” you firmly say once more with your ears ringing, not because the volume of the club makes you want to get down on your knees, but because you’ve perhaps heard something far worse; far more grating, and far more overwhelming than what your heart could even bear. "All of your brothers specifically insisted for me to bring you back before midnight."

They say that your hearing’s supposed to be better. They say that you could see far more colors than what your alien counterpart could ever do. They say that for everything else you lacked, you made up for with the way you’re more physically advanced and therefore adept to protecting the planet’s youngest prince.

No one’s ever said that you’ll be safe from Jungkook himself.

"Jungkook, let's go home. Please," you plead through your teeth, the word you’ve last spoken being the latest term you’ve taught him. Jungkook, along with everyone else, is not familiar with begging; they’re not familiar with desperation so wrung out, there’s actually a word made just for it.

Jungkook only scowls at you, eyes turning a bright red as opposed to his usual pink allotted for you. "Butt out," he murmurs, tightly crossing his arms as his nostrils flare involuntarily. ”You promised me I could be out tonight."

You’re starting to get over the heartbreak little by little, the tantrum thrown by the young prince making you indifferent.

Maybe you just misheard a few minutes ago — maybe, it was only a fluke and you didn’t hear it correctly the first time. Maybe it’s only your faulty impureness that made you susceptible to just hearing your nickname out of nowhere. Maybe, it’s not heartbreak that you were feeling, but rather only a subdued version of it by seeing Jungkook disappointed at you doing your job.

It’s your fault, you guess. Perhaps it’s the fault of the bustle of the club and the hundreds of dialects you could hear all at once finally got to you, overwhelming you to the point that you heard Jungkook calling for your name, despite not looking at you all.

You’re about to plead even more for the both of you to go back already; to save him from a lecture from all of his brothers and for you to be spared an even harsher scolding because they think you’ve gone too soft for him — but then you hear it. Again.

Jungkook clenches his jaw tightly, eyes glowing a bright magenta before he opens his mouth.

"Come on, princess," he calls you by his term of endearment for you, yet his hand is outstretched for the female Twellian on his side.

He’s not calling you — he’s not even paying attention to you. Jungkook isn’t giving you a shred of his focus but he wants you to hear him call someone else the endearment he had playfully made up for you, to which you grew accustomed to without fail. He wants you to see how he gives it to someone else easily, the syllables falling from his tongue easily getting into the girl’s head.

Jungkook wants you to know how angry he is over you doing your job, he hits you where it hurts. He has no idea what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but he doubts that you’d even feel that emotion over what he’s done — and if you actually do over something seemingly simple (for him atleast), he could only think that everyone else is exaggerating what it felt like.

Your heart, whatever is human of it, skips. It tightens and it loosens alarmingly so, almost as if you have no control for the liquid hurt that compromises you.

“I’ll show you a good time tonight, princess,” Jungkook whispers to her ear loudly for good measure, eyes darting up at you, only for him to see that you’ve been watching the whole time.

You almost can’t tear your eyes away until Jungkook crashes his lips into hers, your nickname easily falling out of his lips as if the endearment is free for everyone; as if it’s never been yours in the first place and you only borrowed it out of desperation.

Your whole flight home is quiet.

Jungkook makes it back home before midnight, but you don’t.

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s been looking for you the whole day.

He’s been looking for you since he woke up, and that was fifteen ungodly hours ago when he had risen in a cold sweat. Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, and despite his insistence that something must be severely wrong with him for him to feel that way, the palace doctor (along with every other physician, healer, and reader he knew of) confirmed that nothing was out of place.

Jungkook’s supposedly okay, yet it feels like every part of him is being wrung dry. There’s an ache to his chest that renders him stupid because he feels like he’s forgotten every word, every lesson, and every vaguest bit of semblance that would detail about what he felt.

All of a sudden, Jungkook feels like he’s forgotten what the palace looks like. It’s as if he’s forgotten how tiles are supposed to feel cold on bare feet and how bleak his days are when he doesn’t have you by his side, even if the palace is also occupied by his brothers and the grounds are teeming with staff.

The young prince suddenly feels that he’s forgotten the very layout of his home because his mouth is agape at each room he walks in, simply because you’re not there. He’s practically turned the palace upside down just to grab a whiff of you somehow, and yet you’re nowhere to be found.

Nothing from his or his brothers’ belongings are missing. There’s not a single piece of furniture that’s tilted askew. Nothing has been taken from Jungkook except his peace of mind and the capacity to just stay still because your sudden disappearance unsettles him like no other.

You’re back home, except you’re no longer dressed in the same outfit you left him in.

Your uniform’s been ditched for something more casual — something more worn and lived in to the point that it looks like a shirt that’s never been yours in the first place. The sight of you, dressed in clothes that’s not yours, puts a bitter taste to Jungkook’s mouth.

He’s never been that selfish before. He’s generous and lenient as far as a prince could go, and yet he’s never felt this territorial over something seemingly as trivial as a shared garment.

The concern feels too vulnerable to the point that only a silly human, something Jungkook’s not, would consider it as a burden.

“Where were you?” he asks with the gentleness he didn’t think he’d possess after being worried shitless about you, the panic he had harbored for the longest time immediately dissipating at you.

Jungkook wants to be mad at you so, so, so badly. He wants to be angry at the way it was irresponsible for you to be alone because after all, your strength wouldn’t compensate for the gleaming fact that you’re not from here in the first place.

“I was on my leave,” you answer simply, keeping your hands behind your back as if this was any other outing with Prince Jungkook and not just Jungkook, the same man who’d call you princess for fun and hold your hand just for the sake of it.

“I didn’t say you could be on leave,” he lowers his voice, jaw tightening at the sight of you being indifferent towards him.

“I asked your brothers.”

Jungkook feels that sickness again. He feels that tinge of metal that lingers in the roof of his mouth and he wants to spit it out in front of you just to see if he’d find something else that’s not the sensations he’s been experiencing since you came around; if he’d find something else that’s not your doing yet affects him just as much.

“What if I needed protecting, hm? What if something happened to me while you were gone?” Jungkook half-taunts, shrinking on himself despite doing his hardest to appear big by crossing his arms.

“I knew you were in good hands, prince,” you tense, the tide that comes with your tone washing over Jungkook until he drowns in the realization that you were there while she was in his quarters. “I made to sure to hear that you were in very good company before I left.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s on a self-imposed break from his duties.

The prince’s duties almost exclusively involved chatting and being charismatic in general, along with the occasional goodwill event wherein he had to be all over the place just to take care of things, and not once did he ever take this long of a radio silent break — or atleast that’s what one of his brothers said.

He’s been cooped up in his room since you came back two weeks ago. Despite your absence (if you could even call it that) that barely lasted for an entire day, along with your confrontation just spanning within minutes, it’s been theorized by one of Jungkook’s brothers, again, that it’s because of your doing.

The youngest prince is theorized to be sulking over you and you simply cannot believe it.

You refuse to believe that Jungkook is bedridden with sadness because to begin with, his kind isn’t even supposed to feel such type of intense emotion. He shouldn’t be swayed by you — he shouldn’t be preoccupied with such pathetic, human emotion that you thought only you could feel because of him.

You rebuff the idea that he’s paralyzed with guilt, not only because you feel that it’s physically impossible for him to be, but because it’s him. Someone of Jungkook’s power and influence wouldn’t be so ridden with guilt that he refuses to show his face to you because he’s ashamed of hurting you.

You reject with your whole heart each and every idea that his brothers pitch you. You stay stationary with Jungkook and yet you will yourself to amount to something, even if it isn’t for him, just so the sickening feeling of being replaced won’t ever creep up to you.

You’re in love with him and it’s terrifying.

What’s even more terrifying is that you’re not the only one who knows so.

“I suggest not falling in love with Jungkook.”

You look up so sharply, your neck aches at the speed. Yoongi stands above you with a perfunctory smile, and with just the tiny bit of effort for him to come near you almost makes you forget that he’s Jungkook’s brother who had been particularly vocal about being wary of you.

“I’m sorry?” you murmur in disbelief, eyes wide and unblinking as you take into account his perfect tone.

“It’s obvious, you know?” he smiles tightly, pulling a chair to sit himself down across from you. Yoongi looks relaxed as he takes you in, almost as if he hasn’t spent half a year avoiding you. “I’ve seen the way you look at my brother. I’ve seen it over and over again when I was sent for a mission on your planet.”

You want to ask him why he’s telling you this. You want to ask badly why he’s saying this now when you’ve been certain for the longest time that your adoration for Jungkook wasn’t apparent in a land of creatures that don’t know what love, in your own terms, is supposed to look like.

You want to ask Yoongi why it shouldn’t be Jungkook, but you can’t bring yourself to — not because you know the answer deep down in your subconscious, but because you’re afraid that he would only make sense—

That he’d only solidify why Jungkook should never be in your orbit.

“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you like my planet then?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m sorry, my prince,” you immediately apologize, looking down on your lap as you wait for the impeding lecture; maybe even the impending punishment (you’re not sure what it is, but you know it would hurt someway and somehow) that comes with loving the prince, even by the sidelines.

“Jungkook is a wildcard at best,” he trails off, exhaling heavily as he listens for the heartbeat in the room behind you that houses his brother. “He’s brash and stubborn. He’s driven by emotions we are not even supposed to have.”

If Yoongi stands up now and jiggles the knob to Jungkook’s room with just the slightest bit of force, he can guarantee that the latter would be falling face-down to the floor, just because of the way he has his ears pressed to the door.

Jungkook is moping and sulking and to this day, he does remain miserable — the aforementioned factors don’t stop him from being desperate and nosy.

“What I’m saying is that he’s weak, Y/N,” Yoongi sighs. “The strong isn’t for the weak. That’s always been the case.”

“I know I’m weak, prince, but I-…”

“What?” the prince laughs out loud, the smile on his face wide and cheery. He’s so amused with you that his eyes glow into pink, throwing his head back as he regains his composure. “Jungkook’s the weak one. Not you, obviously,” he snorts. “He’s basically a loser with a crown on his head. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve you and not the other way around.”

You’re not the one who’s being insulted, and yet it feels like it. Your throat tingles and your ribs burn at the sudden urge for you to protect Jungkook, even if he’s in no real threat; even if it feels like all the baser parts of you are coming together just to make sense of the way you grow simultaneously weak and strong for him.

Jungkook, the actual subject who’s being insulted and is proving his brother right by being weak because he’s wallowing in his room out of self-deprecation, sadly hums to himself in agreement.

“I’m not-…”

“Don’t refute it — that’s an order.”

“Prince Yoongi,” you relent, trying to find the right words. “May I ask why you’re telling me this?”

“Because Jungkook’s weak,” Yoongi answers simply. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be weak with him and for him.”

( ♡ )

You’re eating dinner by yourself in the staff room when Jungkook walks in.

It’s the first you’ve seen of him in three weeks. He’s evidently moving on from what seems to have been a rough period for him, right when you’re at your lowest that you’ve ever been.

Prince Jungkook decides that after three weeks, he should take you by surprise and meet you in the staff room wherein you’re alone, pushing your dinner around your plate instead of doing any other menial task you’ve assigned yourself just so it would feel like you’re in use.

You’re just there. You just happen to be there and no one, even you, could do anything about it. You just happen to be there with no exact purpose and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out.

It feels all over again that your family is the runt of the entire extended bloodline. It feels that you’re not remarkable enough for your relatives to surround you and that you don’t amount to anything enough, in whatever aspect it is, to get a shred of attention that isn’t pity,

It feels like the sinking sensation in your chest wherein you have to see that all your mom could contribute to the table is her trusted homemade recipe during holidays, lost amongst a sea full of pre-ordered meals that only your relatives could afford. Like it’s how your dad’s side of the family is borderline batshit crazy and he’s the only one that turned out to be good, and you can’t do anything but watch strangers your have for blood relatives belittle you. Familiarly so, it’s like you’re a kid again with your siblings sitting on the carpet and cleaning up wrapping paper from gifts, not because the gifts are for you, but because you just happen to be there.

You feel like the alien that you are wherein you don’t belong; wherein your family has to sit on the spare chairs dug up from the basement, situated on a portable table outside of the actual, solid dining table where everyone’s sat.

Jungkook sits with you at that dusty, old portable table. He sits himself on the flimsy chair that’s only used for stepping and for laundry.

Jungkook sits with you, not because he just happens to be there, but because he’s there for you.

“I’m… sorry for calling someone else princess.”

“It’s no problem,” you murmur, putting your fork down as you keep your hands glued to your knees underneath the table.

“But there is a problem,” Jungkook counters, lowering his head to get you to look at him yet you don’t budge. “I’m not okay with calling anyone else princess other than you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Then suit yourself,” you quip, even with your voice shaky and your vision blurry.

“I’m-…” Jungkook starts again, racking his brain for the limited vocabulary he has that surely isn’t enough to make up for his grave msitake. “I’m very sorry for making you feel bad. It must have hurt.”

“It’s no problem.”

“There’s a problem,” he insists. “I’m saying sorry because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did,” he frowns, beyond confused to why you keep denying the fact that he’s hurt you in ways he can’t even imagine.

“You really didn’t.”

“Why do you not want me to say sorry?” Jungkook questions, voice raising yet he still looks confused— innocent, even. “Did I… hurt you that much?”

It’s the last straw for you. The pure innocence in Jungkook’s words is and should be the last straw for you because it only makes you realize that he’d never understand you. It resonates in your head, more than ever, that you’ll never be able to understand him fully either because you’ll never be the same.

The only option the universe provides you is for you to love Jungkook halfway.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Prince Jungkook. I shall go back to-…”

“Can I not say sorry to you?” Jungkook bursts, darting his hand out blindly to get a hold on you before you leave.

“You can’t say sorry to me because all of this would feel real,” you ramble, shaking your head vehemently. “You should not say sorry to me because that would mean that I’m hurt because I love you.”

Jungkook looks at you innocently with his eyes wide and lips parted, blissfully unaware of the name to the sensation that keeps tugging at his chest to the point that it feels like it would burst open, yet above all else, he still dives in head-first.

“Can you not love me, princess?” he tilts his head. “Is it not allowed?”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s words lie heavily on both you and Jungkook.

The prince’s sentiment stays on your chest like a paperweight that only grows heavier the more that you try to push it off. You know Yoongi means well, no matter how his words come across otherwise, but the longer that you think about his own suggestion regarding his brother, the more you feel unsure.

Jungkook’s made complete sense of his brother’s words on the other hand, and instead of being filled with a type of rage that only bubbles up when being looked down on, oddly enough, he comes to the truth quite easily.

He knows the truth that he’s weak despite painting himself the opposite, and he feels it the most now that you’re the one who’s distancing yourself from him. Jungkook feels like swallowing the sun and chasing it down with water when you respond to princess, even if it’s jokingly uttered by his brothers and not said sincerely by him alone.

He knows the truth that he’s the weak one in the family, if not the weakest, whenever he stands next to them. Jungkook may be the poster prince for the citizens but he knows the most out of everyone that he’s not as vital to the kingdom as the others are. He may get an assigned seat at the actual, solid dining table, but he knows that he’s not at the head of it.

He knows he’s weak, with and for you, and that’s never bothered him until it actually did.

Jungkook’s eyesight isn’t as good as yours.

Unlike you, he’s restrained by the entirety of his Twellian blood from immediately focusing his gaze on anything. There’s a lag that registers whenever he fixes his sight on anything, just like everyone else but you, and that hadn’t been a bother to Jungkook the whole time.

He had falsely assumed that since you’re the only one who’s different here, the only exception in the planet by being impure and partially human, you’d be the one who’ll have a hard time adjusting your daily life to his — not the other way around.

Jungkook, who had not once ever felt insecurity before, suddenly feels inferior. He feels like dirt and yet he’s angry, not because of the fact that he comes second to your abilities, but because he can’t do shit when it comes to you.

The prince’s eyesight isn’t good enough to notice the tiny little expressions that litter your face whenever something remotely intriguing happens to you. His hearing isn’t on par with yours because he can’t register the laugh in your voice as quickly as you could recognize his. He’s not on the same level as you and it’s only now that it bothers him—

The realization creeps into Jungkook, slowly yet unsettlingly, when he sees the cut on your cheek; the liquor of inferiority, chased down by Jungkook’s own rage, only hits him the moment he sees that a nasty bruise is blossoming by the corner of your eye.

Jungkook grips your jaw lightly out of nowhere, making you look up at him unexpectedly when you had been only preoccupied with fixing him his drink. The prince, no matter the unmistakeable rage that’s brewing in red, is the softest he’s ever been when it comes to addressing you.

“Who hurt you?”

He has all his attention on you and it’s almost sickening with the way he doesn’t want to break off. Jungkook’s hand is still on your jaw and his eyes are still fixed on yours and yet his mind, whatever remains rational of it and not just vengeful, is going a million miles per hour.

“Get your hands off me,” you spit, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the vitriol that spills out of him so clearly, the air around both of you shifts.

“I asked you a question,”Jungkook repeats, putting is hand on your wrist firmly instead. He makes the grave mistake of looking down, though, because as soon as he realizes that there’s blood caked underneath your nails and that your knuckles are stained with your own blood, Jungkook can no longer hold himself back. “Who. Hurt. You.”

Jungkook’s reflexes are slow, but the moment your bottom lip trembles in vulnerability and pure bitterness, he feels as if time has caught on to the point that it’s only your anguish that sharpens his senses.

His feelings, even.

“If I tell you, would it make a difference? If I’m considered weak, Jungkook, then that means you’re even weaker,” you scoff, eyes trained on the ground with your head low so you could muffle the tremble in your voice; not that it would make your prince any less attuned to you.

Jungkook’s eyes remain narrowed at you, breathing heavily as you only state the facts not to insult him, but to remind the both of you of your place — or whatever is left clear of it because Jungkook can’t even think straight the longer that he looks at you hurting.

“What, prince? What are you gonna do about it?” you spit as the last resort, standing up abruptly to storm off and make an escape for it just once so you’ll be free of the burden of being yourself in Jungkook’s existence, yet he doesn’t let you.

The grip that the prince has on your arm is unstable yet unyielding at the same time, as if it’s taking everything in Jungkook to remain standing despite wanting to hunch over by the unexplainable tremor that roots from his chest.

(It is taking everything in him.)

“Burn,” he utters. “I’ll burn everything.”

“You’re-…”

“Weaker than you? I know that,” Jungkook interrupts, his lips set in a straight line as he lets himself be swept by the current that is you. “All the more reason to do everything for you then.”

The young prince doesn’t even break his gaze from you once, even if his pupils are trembling and his teeth are chattering out of the sheer trepidation that comes with being scared for someone else who carries your heart with them.

He doesn’t break his gaze from you, even for the briefest second, as he fishes out his (your) handkerchief from his pocket that’s there, not because it just happens to be, but because it’s allotted for you.

To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides, and Jungkook no longer wants the star to swallow him whole because he doesn’t want you to be burned.

Jungkook wants to love you all the way.

#heh :D #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #alien jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader

803 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 11 months ago

Text

Stuck: Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

A/N: seriously, I almost titled this chapter "idiot" , XD (and that's also the spoiler alert XD)

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

***

One year ago

„When will you get those irrational thoughts out of your head Y/N?”

“What irrational thoughts?”

“About marriage out of love. No such thing exist in the world, my dear and if you do not start living in reality you shall become a spinster!”

“Mother!” Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the harsh and unjust words. She was still so young and to almost be called an old maid—

“Do not raise your voice young lady. You shall marry this season otherwise you would be putting our noble house in a very compromising position.”

“But-“

“Ah! Do not object your mother Y/N. You’ll do as I say. I know what’s best for you and you shall follow the lead. And that is precisely why you’ll accept when Lord Bridgerton proposes to you.”

“Lord Bridgerton!? Which one!?”

“The viscount, dear.” Her mother fluttered her fan imperiously. “Lord Anthony Bridgerton.”

“There is no possibility that I-“

“Hush!”

“Mother I –“

“You’ll say yes.” The tone of voice became much more commanding, leaving no space for discussion. It was like Y/N’s fate has already been decided.

“And why shall I? Because the viscount has decided he has enough pleasantries exchanged with modistes and actresses and other ladies free of the burden of the title. Because mighty Lord Bridgerton decided it is time to tie bounds with a young noble lady, who will be naïve and foolish enough to look at his antics without as much as a blink of an eye. Who will – dear lord – bear him an heir to the title and be the perfect little wife he would order around.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” her mother raised from the chaise longue with cheeks flushed due to her daughter impertinence. “You will accept the proposal!”

“I will not!”

“Your father has already made the appropriate commitments!”

“Commitments!?”

“You shall be courted like a young lady should and get married in the fall.”

“Mother!”

“It has been decided. Now, you go and make yourself presentable. Lord Bridgerton has announced his visit in the afternoon.”

***

The visit was a disaster, to use the light words.

It was clear as day that neither Anthony nor Y/N were fully content with this arrangement and subconsciously tried to discourage the other. That way, when one of them would actually break it off, said one would be to blame for the disgrace, that would undeniably fall on both families.

However-

Despite some many character discrepancies they were both pertinacious and individualistic, ready to go the greatest length to have one’s own way. Neither of them was even thinking of surrendering easily.

Therefore, during his first appointment as a suitor Anthony was met with cold stares, minimum exchange of words and very noticeable distance on his future bride’s part.

Immediately matching the atmosphere and repaying in kind, only doubled in intensity.

Getting burned with the tea in response.

Causing a lot of havoc, many fake words of apologies and even more words of assurance that is must have been an unfortunate accident and he holds no grudge.

For obvious reason the time spend in L/N;s household was cut extremely short and Y/N was send to bed without supper to think about her erratic behavior.

Next few visits were no better.

Especially not the one when Anthony and Y/N were to reveal to a wide audience the nature of their acquaintance by strolling on the promenade, beaming with happiness due to their soon-to-be marriage.

“Dear lord, you are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony hissed in Y/N’s ear grabbing her arm with a bit more force than needed “Smile.”

She put on a fake grin when they were passing by some familiar face, but as soon as the woman was gone she turned to Anthony throwing daggers at him.

“Giving me orders already, Lord Bridgerton?”

“Hopefully you can be tempered if we start getting you used to it this early.”

“Oh! Perhaps it should be you to change the perspective my lord. See the real face of a lady you decided to meet at the altar?”

“And here I though your wonderful mother raised you better.”

“Do not dare speak of my mother the ill way!” she almost yelled, almost yanking her hand free from his grip, stopping the walk and challenging him to do something reckless.

“Forgive me.” He became serious in an instant and the words of apologies actually seemed honest. “You are right, I overstepped.”

“Thank you.” She responded with a deep sigh. God knows how much it took for her to stay calm. Regardless of the on-going conflict and differences in views between Y/N and her mother, the young woman would never let anyone offend her family. Not even Lord Bridgerton. And he should know that straight away.

“Perhaps we have started off the wrong foot, Lady Y/L/N.”

“I believe so. Seemingly we have a way to bring out the worst in each other, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Is that a way to tell me I have already seen you on your lowest behavior?”

“Compliments, Lord Bridgerton, you have endured my greatest efforts to cause you dispiritedness.” Despite herself she let out a chuckle.

“I am known for my endurance even in the least favorable circumstances.”

“I shall keep on my efforts, nonetheless.”

“I am deeply convinced that this will be the case”

***

Dearest gentle reader,

It has come to this writer’s attention that the affection between Viscount Bridgerton and young lady Y/L/N is in full bloom.

Despite the initial misunderstandings and noble behavior, that hasn't deceived any member of the ton, even if have been well played, recent news and observation has shown that maybe there's less pretending and more truth to it.

Much to the ton’s discombobulation, young pair has been seen laughing together while the viscount resorted to courting in the way that resemble his late father and Lady Violet Bridgerton manner.

This writer daresay that no elite member would have ever do as much as dream of Lord Anthony Bridgerton picking meadow flowers for his chosen one while walking in the fields, away from prying eyes. Neither anyone would ever think about the forever dreamer lady Y/l/n actually so close to fulfilling her dream of marrying out of love. Irrational thoughts, as someone may put.

It is yet to be decided whether the on-going courtship between lord Bridgerton and lady Y/L/N will be a source of impending scandal in the society or whether those two will actually succeed in keeping this lovable atmosphere for following years.

After all – real love is not easily found and even less easily kept once the obstacles arise.

***

Now.

“You are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony murmured taking Y/N;s arm and bowing to the passing nobles “Smile.”

Those words brought back some memories and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the history that was in fact repeating itself.

“What is so funny?”

“Your memory does seem so be failing my lord. Won’t you remember the last situation when you told me to express my happiness and contentment to the ton?”

“I—” Anthony cut off, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“Seem like you do after all.”

“Y/N…”

“Been a while since I had to pretend I was content though, given the fact that I truly was, of late.” The hint of sadness and melancholy was not to miss and did not make it easier for Anthony to pursue on the apologies he was tirelessly pursuing.

“Y/N…”

“Good job on choosing the right name since the person, whose hand you are now holding for display seem to be too much for you, my lord. To say the full truth I am fairly surprised you chased me here instead of focusing on spending time with one of your-“

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”

“Oh, I shall not, god forbid. I shall keep the pretenses as any lady married into a good family will.” She send the brightest smile to some kids that were running around, preached by their parents, holding her walls up.

At this point, mockery and distancing herself from the entire unfortunate events, if not fight, was the only way to prevent the emotional and mental breakdown and falling into tears. She was hurt. She was deeply hurt on a level she never thought existed. Anthony’s behavior hit precisely in all the sensitive spots, leaving her overthinking and wailing inside. Reminding her of all the years in her family’s household, being forced to act according to the standards, which she constantly broke, defying all the rules of ossified society and paying a heavy price for being herself despite the odds.

Being called too much, constantly.

Until she met Eloise, which was freeing. Y/N could finally feel like herself, spending a lot of time with Bridgertons.

And then meeting Anthony.

And actually creating a happy story with him, believing she would once and for all be free of the typecasting and tag putting.

But he started behaving in the same way to which she was exposed her entire life.

Too much.

Not enough.

And it made her angry.

“Please do forgive me for not easily being shaped in the wife you want me to be.”

“Shaped? I never wanted you any different!”

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow teasingly and it got her furious glance of her husband’s and the tightening bruising grip on her wrist. “you’re hurting me. Again.” The emphasis put on the last word actually made Anthony realize that he was not made of stone, but the words he wished to say were not coming easily.

“Y/N…” he clenched his jaw. She was mocking and challenging him even now, when he was trying to admit he was wrong and trying to apologize for the wrongdoings.

“Yes, my lord?” she took a step back, smiling in that light way that made him even more furious.

“I believe you wanted to spend time on an intellectual conversation with my sister. Forgive me-“ he bowed in a distant manner reserved for strangers rather than spouses “-for being as impertinent to interrupt ladies’ time. I shall withdraw and leave you to continue on your – surely important- exchange”

And with those words, much to the shock of not only Y/N, but also Benedict and Eloise, who were still following them, Anthony bowed again and started walking away, raising clouds of dust due to the speed with which he rushed off from the place where he left his beloved wife.

Feeling the weight of failure and heartbreak on his shoulders, without a single way to make up for his mistake and keeping the face of a viscount at the same time.

Convinced that she hated him and there was no way to regain her favor and affection.

next part (finale!) : Just right

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4 @gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm @bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @christinabae @pandoraneverland @bevstofu @topguncultleader @jana-jaeynneee @myaa21212121 @ziarah @cat-lockwood @leaf-rose-thorn @elissanatok @lily3450 @nervousmumbling @budugu @frickin-bats @sillyfreakfanparty @amberpanda99 @nycthophiliaa @myaa21212121 @bananaadeleigate @everybodystaycalm @fmhcatt @sankareatheundead @cat-lockwood @1potato2rulethemall

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton angst

2K notes · View notes

opencommunion · 6 months ago

Text

"The settler such as one finds in Algeria, in Angola, in Kenya, in Rhodesia and in the Union of South Africa is obstinately hostile to any attack on his supremacy. We do not say to the settler: ‘You are a stranger, go away.’ We do not say to him: ‘We will take over the leadership of the country and make you pay for your crimes and those of your ancestors.’ We do not tell him that ‘to the past hatred of the Black we will oppose the present and future hatred of the white man’. We say to him: ‘We are Algerians, banish all racism from our land, all forms of oppression and let us work for man, for the flourishing of man and for the enrichment of humanity.’ The settler replies, and the French government supports him: ‘Algeria is French.’ In Angola: Angola is Portuguese. In the Union of South Africa: The Union of South Africa is a white state.

... No, the violence of the Algerian people is neither a hatred of peace nor a rejection of human relations, nor a conviction that only war can put an end to the colonial regime in Algeria. The Algerian people have chosen the unique solution that was left to them and this choice will hold firm for us. General de Gaulle said: ‘We must break the Algerian people.’ We reply: ‘Let us negotiate, find a solution that is commensurate with contemporary history. But know that if you want to break the Algerian people, you will have to accept seeing your armies break themselves against the rampart of the glorious Algerian soldiers.’"

Frantz Fanon, "Why We Use Violence," Address to the Accra Positive Action Conference, April 1960, trans. Robert JC Young in Alienation and Freedom, 2018

#colonialism #resistance #algeria #library

996 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 10 months ago

Text

The long-awaited part 2 for ragdoll!reader.

I’ll be honest, I never intended for there to be another part, so I hope this is alright! I might add more in the future if the worms demand it, but for now let’s consider this the last part. Sorry!

If Price had any optimism that Ragdoll’s reaction to Konig was just a fluke - or perhaps some sort of initial, fleeting interest - he’s quickly proven wrong.

She’s utterly infatuated with him.

Constantly pressing herself close, rubbing her cheek against him and his clothes, bumping her head against his. She chirps and chitters and purrs at him, pupils blown out. Never seems bothered that he has trouble verbally responding; or seems to, though Johnny mentions they might be communicating at a frequency only cat-hybrids can hear.

Price has the briefest notion of keeping them separated. After all, Konig is a big combat placement that doesn’t seem much indulgent of his non-violent instincts. More human than cat - a complete opposite to their sweet companion kitty. It seems inevitable that something goes wrong and someone - likely the 141’s precious girl - gets injured. So naturally they try to keep the hybrids apart.

Try to coordinate schedules to keep her and Konig from passing each other, ending up in the same rooms or at the mess hall together.

It’s futile.

For one, she may be the sweetest little thing around, but she’s still a cat (or cat-hybrid anyway). There’s really no stopping her from going somewhere, especially on a base she’s had free run of for over a year already. Closed doors are blasphemy, and locks are a personal attack against her.

For two, her only job is to be a companion. She is not beholden to most military protocols like rank, SOPs, schedules, or duty. Meaning that, while she usually keeps to the 141’s routines out of desire to be with them, there’s nothing forcing her to follow along. Even as an emotional support placement, she isn’t required to be around them at any time; she always just wants to be. It’s why she’s so good at it.

And finally, mostly importantly here, there’s really just no telling her “no.”

Not with those big eyes that get so watery so fast. That sad curve to her mouth. The fucking mournful cries when she’s been denied and she doesn’t understand why - nor does anyone really have a good reason.

(“He’s twice your size” is apparently not a good reason. Neither is “he could crush your skull in one hand.”)

Worse still, it’s not even that she’s misbehaving as a reason to keep them separated.

While she does present more cat than human in a lot of ways, she understands English perfectly. She can read and even write if needed. Vocalizing human speech is beyond rare, but she has once or twice.

So she knows the hard and fast rules. Understands that she can’t interrupt drills or exercises. That there are regulations for the range should she ever venture out there. That she has to be quiet during briefings. And she does all of this - just while also being as close to Konig as possible.

She sits in the grass or on a perch watching the boys run and call to each other. And as soon as they’re done, she’s up and flitting to his side, head tilting this way and that. She shifts into her full-cat form during briefing to sit on his lap. Even follows him out to the range, lying in the grass next to him with tail swishing and headphones on, while he fires the rifle.

Never mind any free time.

Members of both their teams keep finding them cuddled up together all over the place. In the rec room on a couch, in patches of sun beneath windows, in the grass by the running tracks, even in Konig’s room on base. Most often with Ragdoll lying on him, plumed tail curled around his arm or leg while he rubs her back or ears.

Sometimes they hear him talking to her, low and quiet. She meows back on occasion, but he doesn’t seem to mind the lack of verbal response while he rambles.

And the first time anyone sees them wrestle is nerve-wracking. They hardly make a sound the entire time, rolling around on the floor in a tangle of limbs and fluffy tails. Konig always lets her win - even laughs when she gets her sharp little teeth in his arm. (It’s the first anyone on his team has heard him laugh like that and they’re a bit startled.) The entire 141 pretends not to be on high alert - except Johnny, who watches with ears perked, eyes darting between the two cats.

Price doesn’t know what to make of it. Of course he’s not upset that she’s connected with another hybrid. Johnny is usually the only one on base, and while they’re close, Price knows it probably isn’t the same as her own species.

That she’s so… preoccupied with Konig is, well.

“Is she… ya know…?” Gaz asks at one point.

When Price arches an eyebrow, he makes a vague, nonsensical gesture.

“In heat,” Gaz mumbles awkwardly.

“Shouldn’t be,” Price answers. “She has an implant.”

A hormone implant keeps a hybrid from going into mating cycles or getting pregnant - but it doesn’t stop them from bonding.

Kate is the one to bring up the possibility after speaking to her sister in law. Ragdoll spent time around other cat-hybrids before she was placed with the 141, but never reacted to them like she does to Konig.

It’s confirmed when TF-141 and the KorTac squad deploy for their mission. Ragdoll is near inconsolable. Not actively crying (most of the time) but lethargic and sad, with low appetite and lots of big, long sighs. Her ears never perk more than half-mast for the month they’re gone. Even taking her off-base back to Kate’s sister-in-law for a little while doesn’t seem to help.

The day they come back, she’s the most lively anyone’s seen in a month. Bounces between her four team members incessantly, checking that they’re okay, making little noises in the back of her throat. They happily drop kisses on her head, let her nuzzle up beneath their chins, hug her close. Rub at her ears and squish up her cheeks. Price even picks her up, rubbing his bristly cheek against her temple.

Then Konig steps out.

She wiggles, making a nervous, upset noise. Price sets her down and she bolts into Konig’s arms, crying loudly and pawing at his hood. And to everyone’s shock, he lifts it enough for her to wriggle under with him.

If there was any question that he felt the same way - it’s answered.

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #ragdoll!reader #siberian mix!konig

2K notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 1 year ago

Text

Do I Wanna Know - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #05

Summary: Taking advantage of the fact that the Avengers are going through a divorce, you decide to visit your (not-so-secret) girlfriend in the compound. While they fight, you entertain Wanda and present her with a third option besides staying in the tower or fighting Steve Rogers: to run away with you.

Warnings: (+18), shapeshifting reader, some talking of gender identity, implied gender neutral but use of female pronouns, established and secret (ish) relationship, canon-divergence, bottom!Wanda, making out, unprotected sex, creampie, intimate teasing, praising, general fluff. | Words: 4.131k

This work was turned into a series. Check the masterlist here.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It got more dangerous every time it happened. But getting caught, and all the consequences that would come with it, were distant ideas, possibilities that didn't cross Wanda's mind, especially when she was at your place.

She didn't think about the team, the country, what anyone else might think and judge about the relationship - if she could call it that - between the two of you.

All Wanda could focus on when she was around you was undeniably you.

It became a secret routine, a hidden part of her life that she looked forward to almost all the time. Between tiring and dangerous missions, a new excitement among the gray corners of the private life of what many would call the most powerful Avenger.

Nobody knew about you, not the way she did anyway. What the others saw was the smuggler with no loyalty - the thief who stole and would steal from anyone in her path, for the best price. And could also take anything she was paid to take. From a diamond necklace to an infinity stone, from the most exclusive party of the world's elite to the secret country in the middle of the African continent.

Sometimes, Wanda would trace Wakanda's scar on your skin while you slept, and wonder if the person you were at that moment was the same person that King T'Challa wanted behind bars for a few pieces of metal.

The moral part didn't bother her much - if she was honest, Wanda understood impressions and what really mattered very well. Coming from a country exploited by the United States, which praised a man in blue who was very reminiscent of the captains who marched to the corners of the world to massacre cities, to one who wore iron armor and produced the same bombs that took the lives not only of her parents, but of the vast majority of the children she grew up with, Wanda understood hypocrisy like no one else. Despite everything that had happened to her, she shared a roof with the man indirectly responsible for her parents' deaths. No one could judge her so easily, but Wanda was sure that if your relationship went public, it would happen in the blink of an eye.

So when she was fleeing, for hours between one mission and another, one meeting and another, she tried to enjoy you as much as possible.

And sometimes, when you were apart for too long, and she worried that she was beginning to forget the features of your face, Wanda could prepare a surprise.

She could lie, taking advantage of her magic or not, to prolong everything from your time together to the sensations you shared in bed. She could haunt you - and you would use that term because, without her around, the feeling of lack was very similar to that of loss. - Wanda would invade your dreams, like a sigh in the night never to leave your mind.

But more often than not, she would simply mark you with hickeys and scratches on everything hidden beneath your uniform, and you might leave a path of purple through the valley of her breasts that would be the only proof of the hours she had spent enjoying your company.

The Avengers were on a thin line now - Accords, fights, and old friends, and neither you nor Wanda knew it, but soon, the world would see you two the same way.

Criminals on the run.

But the future hasn't arrived yet - And Wanda, unbeknownst to you, was locked away in a tower like an ancient princess, and you, against the advice of your own safety, went to visit a damsel who wasn't so much defenseless but would definitely be distress to see you there.

"You can't be here." The warning came against your lips, pressed into hers half a second after your arrival into the room - you could only kiss back, smiling at the tug on your leather jacket that fell to the floor behind your feet.

"I missed you too princess." That's what you said back, your hand wrapped around her waist as your tongue slid into hers.

Wanda sighed, her body yearning for your touch and presence just as much as her heart for the last few weeks without seeing you. Despite pushing you around the room, until you were sitting on the bed, Wanda interrupted the motions, her frown of concern and her out-of-rhythm breathing escaping through her swollen, ajar lips.

"I'm serious." She begins a hand on your shoulder to keep you in place. "They can't see you here-"

"The Avengers aren't home, I was told." You justify quickly, your gaze wandering to look her up and down. Wanda always looked so beautiful, it was almost unfair. "United Nations meeting, everyone's talking about it."

One of your hands plays with the folds of her skirt, pulling it up, but Wanda pushes them away.

"Most of them, yes, but I'm not alone." She murmurs, looking around and undeniably using magic to check the floor. "Vision is keeping me company."

"Which one is Vision anyway?" You retort casually, not caring about the last gesture, moving your hands under her clothes and biting back a smile at the way her thigh muscles quiver with your touch.

Wanda rests her other hand on your shoulder, her gaze serious. "The one with the damn magical stone you once stole from Hydra." She retorts, sighing softly as she feels your fingers playing with the laces of her panties. "Please, detka. Vision... would kill you if he found you here."

You click your tongue. “I could disguise myself…” But Wanda shakes her head.

“The stone can see beyond.” She retorts with a certainty that makes you assume this information came directly from her team's study of the Stone. But instead of answering right away, you pull her by the thighs onto your lap, smiling mischievously at the surprised yelp that you muffle on your lips. Wanda tries to listen to reason, but it's too faint compared to the pounding of her own heart.

"Don't make a sound and he'll never know." You whisper your last request before kissing her intently, your bold hands teasing inside her blouse. It doesn't take long for Wanda to be restless in your lap, panting against your tongue exploring her mouth so hungrily, sweating with the precise stimulation of her nipples as your hands pull down her dark bra. But despite a mind almost completely clouded with arousal, she bites at your lower lip and breaks the kiss.

"I missed you." Wanda likes you to know these things because sometimes, you have less than an hour together and it feels like one of those times. She hasn't seen you for weeks, and God knows when she'll get another chance now that the team seems on the verge of collapse.

You give her a teasing smile, your hands wrapped around her. "You're so sweet, Wanda. My beautiful, darling, princess." Your compliments were accompanied by chaste kisses against her jaw, and it always works to leave her a mess, melting into you and at your beck and call.

In the safety of your embrace, Wanda risked being vulnerable:

"Did you miss me too?"

You're not so good at these things - It comes from your past, so different from her happy childhood although later overshadowed by the height of a civil war as a teenager, but definitely different from growing up in Tony Stark's mansions and summer houses, or surrounded by family lunches like Bruce Banner or Thor. If anything, your childhood was closer to that of a Black Widow, with training and punishments whenever the expectations were not achieved.

Still, Wanda warmed her way into your heart, and you tried to give back as best you could.

"I don't really think about you when I'm away." Her expression drops immediately, but before she can conclude anything, you move one of your hands to grab hers, and bring it back inside your blouse. Your intense gaze is the only thing stopping her from pulling away. And when Wanda can feel a new scar near your abdomen, she swallows dryly. "Or rather, I just have to force myself not to do anymore. What you're feeling happened in Berlin. An MK2 hidden in the belt of an arms dealer who asked me... how much I was enjoying America." You narrate, and Wanda frowns, being able to visualize the memory fresh in your mind. You swallowed and looked down at your lap. "I don't know how much he knew, but he said your name, and I just... flinched. I was blinded by rage and he took advantage of it. So, no, Wanda. I can't afford to let you cross my mind when I'm away, because you become a weakness. And I wasn't trained to have weaknesses."

Despite the way her body warms to the confession, Wanda gives you a playful look.

"Should I apologize, you know, for making a romantic out of the grumpy assassin?" she teases, and you chuckle, spinning her around in a tug to drop her on her back on the bed, you on top.

With your body pressed into hers, one hand on her waist and the other adjusting her hair away from her eyes, you nuzzle your noses together. "Don't ever apologize for making me feel this way." You whisper, and Wanda closes her eyes in anticipation, her cheeks burning. "You have me in a way that no one ever could, Wanda Maximoff."

The next kiss is intense and charged with meaning. It makes Wanda shudder and gasp into your mouth. You smile, secretly proud of the effect you have on her, while your hands move down to pull her thighs up and make her wrap herself around you, ankles locked behind your knees.

The position elicits a deep moan from the girl beneath you, and when you adjust yourself to press your pelvis against her, Wanda chokes in surprise, opening her eyes.

"Is that...?"

Without losing your relaxed posture, you offer her a little smile full of the worst intentions. "I thought I'd play differently today." You reply, grinding gently against her and making Wanda bite her lips. The movement leaves you equally affected, but you let her know: "I can always change back..."

Wanda tightens the grip of her legs around you, shaking her head. Her cheeks turn pink. "N-no! I like... I like you either way." She manages to whisper, and you smile warmly, kissing her softly.

One of your hands comes down to invade her blouse, starting an intense making-out session between you, enough to mess up your hair and the bed sheets and leave you hard against her thigh.

When Wanda stops to breathe again, there's a wet spot on the thigh she's spent the last few minutes grinding against - and you take the opportunity to plant kisses on her collarbone. Your hands go down to unbutton your pants.

Between kisses, you warn her: "I have to be careful... I think it works like a real one. Speaking of biological functions, you know. "

She uses magic to force your pants down to your ankles, aroused enough that the delay was driving her to the brink of insanity. Still, she manages to gasp between kisses: "You think?"

You hum, distracted by the sensation of your cock rubbing against her covered intimacy - body shuddering with arousal. "Y-yes... I've never... used it for sex before... Just for the job, you know? While in disguise."

The information made Wanda need to ignore the liquid arousal and press trembling hands onto your shoulders, gently pushing you away and attracting your attention.

After a sigh, she asked: "Are you comfortable, darling? With this of course... I don't know the exact feel of your powers, but I don't want you to think you need to change a single thing about yourself for me. Who you are is incredible and enough."

You break into a loving sigh and attack her face with kisses that make Wanda giggle shyly. "You're too sweet on me, Maximoff." You tease, and wrap your arms around her on the bed, hugging her tightly. Wanda bites her lips, still well aware of your lust brushing her, but trying to ignore the sensation in case you change your mind. After all, just your presence after so many weeks away was what she really wanted. Sex was just a bonus.

Somehow, she ends up on top again, your foreheads touching.

"It's different because of my powers, everything they do for me, changing my body as needed, you know? But still, I feel that even without these abilities, these details wouldn't make any difference to me." You confess with a sigh, one of your hands stroking behind her back. "Whether my body resembles of a boy or a girl, I say. In my head, I'm always in the middle, or outside of it. I can't explain it very well, and I’m still trying to understand it better but… I know for a certain that I want to make you feel good. In any of the ways I’m able to."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment, her heart pounding and her chest warm with tenderness. She doesn't know exactly when she fell for you - whether it was from the first second your eyes met, or whether it was over time, between flirtations and arguments, until finally, she had the courage to act on those feelings and was lucky that you held on to them as much as she did.

Instead of answering with words, she kisses your skin. Your cheeks, your jaw, and your lips, while her hands touch wherever they can. It takes you by surprise, the familiar sensation of her magic on your clothes until you're both skin to skin on the mattress. Wanda sighs deeply, still with her eyes closed, as she adjusts herself on your lap, but looks up at you again before shifting to fit into you.

"Are you ready, love?" You whisper against her lips, one hand on her waist, the other lining up at her warm entrance. Wanda welcomes you with breathtaking heat - you slide in easily, yet she gasps until she gets used to the sensation of being filled, her hands firmly on your shoulders. You sigh too, trying not to get lost in the sensation as you ask: "Can I move?"

"Y-yes, please." She practically meows impatiently, her forehead falling against your shoulder as your hips move upwards, gently thrusting inside her. But Wanda clenches inside, hot and eager, and you grunt, trying to hold in your own pleasure. She grinds down against your hips, the sound of her wet arousal echoing between you. Your hands tighten on her hips, and you gradually increase the speed, making Wanda gasp between moans against your ear. "Dorogoy... that feels so good..."

You manage to gasp back, nodding softly in agreement: "You have no idea how amazing you feel, baby... so fucking wonderful... God..." It takes you by surprise, the first reach of your climax. You try to hold back, but Wanda bites your skin hard as she feels the warm shot on her walls, and your grunt turns into a heavy moan as you spill inside her. Wanda wraps her arms around your shoulders, grinding gently as you throb out the last drops, which soon run down her thighs. A moment later, your voice hoarse, you whisper: "I'm sorry, babe. I didn’t... know it would be so hard to hold it..."

She giggles shyly, kissing your skin before looking at you again. A mischievous gaze. "Do you need a break, or perhaps that was the highlight of the night...?" She teases, but you snort in fake indignation, fixing your grip on her waist to flip her onto the bed. The gasp of surprise turns into a muffled whimper as you thrust inside her powerfully, hard again as if you hadn't just come. Her hands move to your waist, and her nails dig into your hips with each thrust.

"You were saying?" You challenge softly, panting against her lips. Wanda chuckles under her breath, one of her legs tucking behind yours, increasing your reach deep inside her. With each thrust in, she shuddered and gasped on the bed, closer and closer to the edge. You lowered yourself completely, pinning her to the mattress and burying yourself inside her as you felt her become impossibly tight. Wanda came in a high-pitched whimper, her nails digging into your lower back just enough to make a mark. You kissed her jaw, rocking gently as she still rode the waves of her own climax.

When you suddenly pulled out, cumming against her soaked and abused pussy, she mewed in protest, her leg trying to pull down and back inside of her. You chuckled hoarsely.

"Baby, I shouldn't have come inside the first time." You whispered, kissing her cheek. "I have to be careful, it's not replication, I transform truly. Let's get you a pill after this, all right? And we'll need some condoms for next-."

"Problems for later." Wanda cuts in good-naturedly, pulling your face back to hers and kissing you intently, effectively silencing any rational thought in your head.

It's honestly the best you've felt in a long time - as it usually is when you're around Wanda Maximoff.

It shouldn't surprise you that much when a few hours of rolling around in bed together, the moment is interrupted by knocks on the door.

Wanda, naked and panting, is sitting on your hips, and you're inside her still, ready to come again when she practically jumps away, and you have to muffle the grumble of frustration against her pillow.

"Y-yeah?" she manages to ask the visitor, sitting on shaky knees on the bed, one hand pulling the covers over her body.

It takes a moment, but the male voice answers: "Sorry to disturb you, Wanda, but I made dinner. Won't you join me?"

She pushes the fingers you threaten to drag between her legs away, a smile playing on her lips.

"I'm not hungry, Vision, thank you."

There's another pause, in which Wanda throws you warning glances to stop trying to touch her before the robot speaks again, more seriously than before.

"Wanda, can we talk? Please."

She frowns, and exchanges a look with you, who sigh, rolling your eyes and looking away, your chest burning with a strange sensation. Using magic to bring one of the robes to her after muttering "One second", Wanda stumbles to the bedroom door, which she leaves with only a small gap to the corridor.

"Vis, it's not a good time-

"She shouldn't be here, Wanda." Vis cuts in, and you tense up on the bed. But he makes no mention of entering the room, and Wanda comes out wrapped in her robe, covering the ajar door with her body as a dry laugh escapes her.

"That's none of your business."

The man shakes his head in disbelief, and his tone of voice, although restrained, can be heard by you inside the room.

"Wanda, please be rational." He insists seriously. "At such a delicate moment for the Avengers, to bring... a criminal into the tower..."

"Vision, go away."

He sighs, hesitantly. "I should report this." He mutters, and although you can't see Wanda's face, you can see the way her shoulders tense and you can imagine the hardness of her expression.

"Do as you wish, but know, I will never speak to you again if anything happens to her."

Vision shakes his head. "And where do you think their choices will lead? If it's not the Avengers, it'll be the police who capture her. Interpol, or whichever organization finds her first. What they're doing, Wanda, has no future and you know it." He says, sighing in disapproval. "Send her away now, or I'll warn the others." Vision announces at last.

"Maybe I'll just go with her." Wanda retorts, but Vision chuckles dryly.

"You have no idea what's happening outside those walls, Wanda." He retorts seriously. "The fine line we're on. Mr. Stark is trying to keep everyone out of danger, and after everything we caused in Lagos, wandering around without signing the Accords is out of the question."

Wanda chokes in surprise. "What... Am I not allowed to leave the tower?"

Vision clears his throat, nodding. "It's for the safety of the civilians." He retorts coldly. "Although I believe your intentions are good now, your record as a Hydra terrorist and recent events are not in your favor. It's best, for everyone, that you stay here until things settle down and all the signatures are counted."

Wanda is speechless at the absurdity, but in the meantime, you're already dressed and she jumps softly when your hand opens the rest of the door. Vision's eyes go wide, but you just give him a forced smile.

"Hey, microwave, long time no see." You greet sarcastically, and the man adjusts himself.

"Unfortunately not long enough." He retorts coldly.

"Jeez, someone's rusty." You grumble, but he looks at you seriously.

"Don't abuse my patience, Miss. You have fifteen minutes to leave this tower, or I'll call National Security with your location."

You rest your arm on Wanda's shoulder, a smile playing on your lips. "Wow, am I that important?"

Vision takes a hard step forward, but Wanda's magic pushes him back with a jolt. You laugh at his indignant expression.

"That's enough, Vision. She's leaving soon, and you're leaving now." Wanda warns, at last, her irises bright red. The synthesizer begrudgingly gives you one last threatening look and leaves the corridor.

You wrap your arms around Wanda again to kiss her hard as you close the door with your foot, but she doesn't match the intensity, and soon, her hands are on your shoulders, gently pushing you away and stopping the kiss.

At your confused expression, she swallows dryly. "You should go." She whispers, fear in her eyes. "I know he meant it. And I don't want to ruin this night with you getting shot by some federal agent."

You hesitate, but end up nodding, kissing her on the cheek before walking away to get your shoes.

But as you put them on, and Wanda hugs her own body, you take a chance:

"You know you don't have to stay here, right?" You begin a little upset. "You could do like that archer guy and ask for a retirement. Or have your friends forgotten that you've already saved the world once and therefore, you don’t owe any of them shit?"

Despite the childish stubbornness in your tone, Wanda smiles sadly before retorting. "I don't think they've forgotten, but things are more complicated than before. And I'm not like Clint Barton, darling." She retorts, swallowing dryly. "I don't have a family to go back to."

You frown, absorbing the words in silence as you finish tying your sneakers. And then, as if it wasn't the sweetest thoughtful thing you've ever said to her, you declare:

"I could be family, Wanda."

She looks away for a moment because she doesn't want to cry in front of you. She has the impression that you won't leave - and she needs you to go so that you can be safe - if you notice the tears.

Sniffling softly, and wiping her face before you notice, Wanda asks. "Do you really mean that?"

You stand up, moving closer to her to hold her cheeks. "Every word." You assure her with a smile. "We could travel the world, and have lunch and dinner in different places every day. We would buy all the most expensive and tacky things just because we can..."

Wanda giggles shyly at the fantasy, allowing herself to believe it for just half a second. She holds your hands cupped around her face afterward and sighs.

"It's a beautiful dream, darling."

You swallow dryly, staring at her. "Just a dream, isn't it?" You sigh sadly, and she nods just as upset.

Her tone is very low, like a secret. "They'll find you eventually. And I... God knows how much my power will grow. I can't trust myself outside of here, without the help of training. Stark's containment plans. And I know it's horrible, but I don't want to hurt anyone. Ever again. And if I went with you, with this life you lead, eventually, I would."

You swallow dry, sighing in understanding. This time, it's you who sniffles.

“I’m always one call away, Wanda Maximoff. Whenever you need me, just pick up the phone.” Wanda feels her chest warm at your words, but all she does is smile tenderly against the kiss you place on her lips.

Unknown to both of you, it won’t take long for her to call. With really unexpected big news.

Two of them precisely.

-&-

This work was turned into a series. Check the masterlist here.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #kinktober 2023

2K notes · View notes

cherie-doll · 1 month ago

Text

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They're Your Bodyguards (Royalty x Knight AU Part #2)

𖠁 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

❦ Based off this hc I had written a while back

Price

He upholds his noble promises, he wouldn't ever dare to wander too close into your life

With every string tugging at his heart, he restrains the overwhelming feelings, he remembers the oaths he's made

To keep in this way was dancing death's waltz

Oh, but your soft silhouette blending in the foliage with the aura of golden sun was refreshing like morning dew, how is it possible for the human heart to long for something it has never had? We dream of a haven, but is there hardly one on this earth?

He longs to have what is restricted, maybe what has been out of reach has always appealed to us, since children we want what is above us, as young people we crave what makes us feel alive, and in our limited existence we continue to search for it

It was all forsaken; what was left unsaid, the silent sentiment, the shared glances that were neither given nor taken, for nothing was accidental nor hidden between the both of you... only guarded

Ghost

Here is another fool, one who thinks love is a controlled emotion, have pity on him!

The only salvation he can be found guilty of on base of selfishness is imagining you imagining him, secretly he loses himself in fantasies of a future that can never be

He hath nothing but muted passion for you

And from the silence, is it possible to determine the outcome? It does nothing more but to hurt one's feelings, does the bearer more hurt than partaking in improper fantasies, for it is all in vain and a reaching for and grasping at the wind

In the end the happiest fool is miserable, the most disciplined king conquers nothing, and the bravest knight afraid of battle

What pain for nothing!

Soap

Not a word from your lips heard, not a touch felt nor a sensation given, but those eyes speak for the entire soul

This story doesn't have to be a tragedy, because no matter what it will never end the way everybody wants it to, "vivamus, moriendum est", but you'll let yourselves live blissfully

Nothing can stifle his silent joy, his merry face goes about all day desirous of crushing you with a million acts of affection

The mindless dialogue he recites, staring off into nothing as he finds your capricious eyes shining like a glow the lake flashes at the evening sun

He'll find beauty in your entire being and relate it to things because if one day, you find each other a long way off, the sentiment will remain and the earth will remember you and remind him

Gaz

What's forbidden only makes the temptation greater, hm?

With such yearning and softening of his eyes does he gaze at you, it's a feeling that's so heavy and present in the air it's impossible to ignore, an energy only igniting between you both

He's engulfed in dreams of what could be, but surely it's not all just a figment of his imagination, to a certain point you mirror his thoughts

The emotions that won't stop growing rise to the surface and threaten to breakthrough, ruining his discipline, yet are always present and showing through every act and small interaction with you

The brushing against one another, the whispers that want to turn into screams, the heart begging to be let out

Roach

It had been dawning on him, a premonition of sorts in the air since he started serving your family, as if it was destined to happen

Now as he gazes up at you from his head lying on your lap, your bodies hidden from view by the tall hedges and vines in the garden, he almost melts at the sight of you

Even if the weather isn't favorable, you walk hand in hand, free of worries for an evening or night, it feels as if the sky could be never-changing and the circumstance always right

And as he reflects back on this years later, he remembers it fondly, though now gone and far away from one another, he gathers these memories and wonders if there was no ending to it, would you two have kept laughing innocently?

He would let your name slip from his lips one last time as if calling you softly into the fading sunlight

Alejandro

Every time you cross paths after meeting and loving in secret it is like the morning after a heavy torrent of rain, you cannot hide the smiles breaking out onto your faces, nor the fidgeting of hands wanting to embrace each other

An impulse so strong that it can barely be contained when he gazes deep within your cherub eyes, your lashes fluttering as the shimmering sunlight reflects on water, this scene all too perfect

Curiously, he will gaze at you and construct the most beautiful verses he seriously believes he would have made a great poet

You're everything he's held dear, not only does he love tenderly but deeply, you hit every feeling spot within him unveiling a new world

Rudy

Oh, but he's so respectful, so contained, so true to his word, until he finds himself alone in your chambers, faced with an order he has the right to deny or be a little selfish

For once he is given choice and it is difficult to remember his priorities

How could he deny? When you're murmuring so softly, and you're welcoming him so well, making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter even if it's a false feeling only for a little while

He'll cherish that moment for a lifetime, because for once he's known what heaven feels like, smiling easier and more often

His mind drifting back to you, you're unforgettable, not just a fleeting moment but an experience

Phillip Graves

He looks curiously at what is before him; the kingdom's precious flower, and as he gazes he becomes entranced in a thread that with time will become too hard to be undone by a single pull

It starts out as a foolish act but soon grows into much more, but was he ready for what came with it? The yearning, the sensitivity and vulnerability he was exposing himself to?

With every look that gained new meaning and lost their playfulness, you became all too attached and duty no longer was first

Perhaps this was the beginning of your descent, your spiraling into doom and recklessness, crumbling and giving in to your heart who beats so wildly only once in this ephemeral sentiment

Makarov

The repetitive phrase that leaves your lips every time, "we can't do this" or "we shouldn't", always the regret setting in after saying you've let go

And frankly, he doesn't care nor does he care whether you completely let go of it or not, it'll be your stone to carry, not his

Just feel the pull between you, focus on the fact that you're in his arms right now, your royal attire loosely around your shoulders and your worries and responsibilities should be a mile off by now

Concentrate on what you feel, he's trying to remind you, there is nothing selfish in enjoying the sensations for a little while

Or is he trying to put his conscience at ease with these words he tells you? What a reflection of his soul they are, and what truth do they carry

Keegan

You find him deeply captivating and intriguing, you feel bad for having so much curiosity for him

In a room full of people and yet you always wonder if he's there among the crowd, and with so much noise in the world does he stop and listen for your voice?

So dreamlike were these short moments of delight it must've been a dream, you met only at midnight behind heavy velvet curtains that obscured all light

You could only feel with your fingertips and hear soft murmurs that you tried to memorize, you would later pray in your tucked corner of the room, whispering softly into your blankets that it was real

Someone felt for you and the memories had really happened

König

The brooding figure that wishes he had the privilege of learning about you without repercussions, without that nagging thought of it coming back to bite at him

To color in the blank spaces of unknown, wishing to reside in the intimacy of your heart and mind, to navigate what is familiar

The blossoming interest in you reflecting in his eyes, making you feel a strange sense of safety when with him, a calming feeling that you welcome too well when in his presence you find rare to recreate when alone

Not even castle walls could grant as much security as he could, they were old and empty, standing many years and guarding many families before you, it was only a false sense of security that had been handed down to you

But he, he was your own, your own to cherish and love for now and even if his love wasn't a family heirloom to pass down maybe that was fine, let yourself hold this selfishness close to your chest

Horangi

A gambling game he is playing, it's as if he has a thing for chasing after what is not secure nor certain, but that's what makes it appealing

He doesn't stick much to rules, if he does it's only for a short time until he finds his own way of doing things, he was never concerned with playing the game fair

So he's not hesitant nor does he shy from trying risky things with you, it's all a game to him

The momentum only increasing as the stakes rise and he finds himself almost tying his fate to you, wanting for once in his life a secure future he can be sure to have, to reach out for and receive

Nikto

The craving for something different and rattling came to you when you discovered his tarnished past

It was so different to what you knew, and maybe it was in that darkness and chaos that you found comfort, a world you wanted him to share with you, more intimate than any touch

More erotic and through-provoking were his shards of soul revealed to you than an affair, and his growing confusion at how easily he shared parts of him with you

A hidden memory arising from the depths of his mind, trying to show him how comforting it felt to be perceived for what you were, he wanted to indulge in it a little longer each time

He knew his desires and dreams wouldn't change a thing in his life, but this peace freed him from the chains that had been weighing heavy, he felt lighter and allowed himself to long for someone

207 notes · View notes

ladythornofrivia · 25 days ago

Text

Mr. Targaryen Will See You Now

Modern!Aemond x Reader (three parts)

warnings (for the future chapters): sex, oral sex, loss of virginity, squirting, stalking, obsession, manipulation, reader being clueless, but not totally innocent, blackmail, p in v sex, blood kink, knife kink, gun kink, handcuff kink, bdsm, masturbation, fingering

a/n: I’ve been doing okay, but things have been complicated. There are times I wish someone would love and protect me like in the romance book—longing for a romantic life and longing for connection and consistency. I’m still clinging on. Oh, and I started to drive, I’ve gotten better at driving, but still need to learn. And my family has been cruel to me that even made me believe that no one will love me. But art is my passion, one thing that keeps me alive until now. And thank you guys, for supporting me. I love you guys very much.

The morning hair wasn’t cooperating; you took a nice long, hot shower the night before the interview—which you knew nothing about, and planned on spending time to read books and drink merlot and binge on snacks, or watching korean soap operas, being a usual daydreamer you are— and you were getting ready for the interview, groggy, and sobbing on the inside.

The iron curl is broken. And nothing to repair except for your roommate’s curler, tried to make the curls tighter, hence why you brushed your hair back for a softer effect.

Long story short, your friend has called in sick, and asked you to fill in the details for her. Nevertheless, a shy and innocent girl such as yourself. Under a bad weather, you have to fill in, that’s what a good friend does.

Any shenanigans and canceled during the day of interview meant blacklist.

The appointment must be that important.

Clad in knit white jacket with black lines, white top and silky pleated skirt, with your sideswept longish strands tucked in, you were sure you’re going to vomit. Vomit from misery, vomit from stomach pain, or vomit from an awful weather, you made sure your clean, it-girl makeup is on plastered to your sleepy expression, hoping no one would take you as a joke. Presenting as possible also means the downside of being insecure or inferior is low. But with amount of makeup you set up, you made sure you’re neither too plain nor extravagant.

Everything has to be balanced accordingly. But appearance willing to stand out, if the destiny allows it to be.

“You got that tape recorder, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And the interview sheet?”

“Got it right here in my purse.”

“How about the gift for him?”

Your brows knitted. “I have it all set. I don’t think he’s going to accept this. There’s no way in hell.”

“Not if it comes from gorgeous lady like you. You look prim and proper today! Ready to go at the Met Gala, Miss Victoria’s Secret Model?”

“Ha, as if! Besides, I can’t go in looking like a wet rag. They’ll kick me out.” Sprayed a fee spritz of the sweet, vanilla, cotton-candy smelling perfume on your neck and neckline over your interview getup.

“Funny.” Your friend howled a wet, sloppy and stuffy sneeze. “Don’t mind me, just get your round ass going before someone decides to come behind you and give it a good smack, and it’s not going to be me.”

She spilled a good part of the soup as your friend accidentally swallowed and slurped the noodle and coughed. Oops.

“Careful, that’s a $50 white carpet I just got,” you said with a tiny smile.

“I’m being careful,” your friend said, inspecting the bowl if the spicy soup spilled. And there’s none.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go ahead. Stay still.”

“And you stay naughty with your ass poking out,” your friend shouted behind you as you walked off.

You must achieve perfectionism at all costs. That’s what beauty is for.

~~~

As you entered the high floor of the building, the receptionists, looking flawless and elegant, greeted you, as if you’re another member of the company. Beautiful women with beautiful problems with beautiful men, you’d assume.

“Miss Stark?”

“Yes?” you replied, the receptionist insisted to take your coat off, but you politely refused with a sweet grin, but you gave your umbrella instead. Nonetheless, the secretary lead you to the high double doors—grey and glossy.

Immaculate.

“Mr. Targaryen will see you now.”

And opened the door. By your mistake, you didn’t realize one of your items dropped, causing you to lunge forward and knees bruised, following by your personal items and paper for the interview flopped on the ground.

Your ankle received a sharp pain, pressuring.

By the glass window, a long-haired man in a steel grey suit pivoted his head around from the noise and approached. “Are you alright, miss?”

His voice tuned in your ears. You have never heard a voice with profound deepness and…seduction.

A realization pang when you found yourself agitating like a shy teenage girl in high school, a shy, awkward girl talking to a handsome guy. You bet he’s the type of guy who’s popular, but doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of him, or that he doesn’t occur to him as a benefit of being popular.

You’ve never seen him on papers and articles on the internet. No picture has come to a close when you glimpsed at him in person. Too long, in fact. You thought it would be an old man wanting more attention from the source of dangerous media.

He’s that gorgeous.

Immaculate. Neat.

And strictly punctual.

Is he taking his father’s place for the interview?

“I’m doing okay, sir. I apologize for the inconvenience,” you replied with modesty, nearly breaking the sweat on your brow.

Instead, he huffed, returning back to his desk and leaned himself over the table, awaiting. Watching. A faint scar outlined from the thin brow to cheekbone.

You’d assume he’s associated with dangerous people underground. Though you never knew him personally. Only an assumption.

“Sit,” he commanded, ever so still.

Gulping your parched throat, after drinking water and caffeine—you purchased on your way—in the car, heading for the massive building, you wondered drinking coffee has an effect on the stability in the nervous system. Sat on one of the empty green chairs, you had your utensil pen you bought online from a Japanese website and an aesthetic mini notebook, readying the questions. Flipping over the rippled pages, you studied over the questions, and as it turns out your friend has more of an aspect on the side of…inappropriate philosophy.

Nearly face palming yourself, you wanted to strangle your friend for setting you up for failure.

What the hell are you thinking, dude?

“Are you just going to sit there and act like a mousy librarian or are you going to interview me for the benefit of my time and success?”

Shoulder blades flinched at the sound of his tone. “Pardon me, sir,” you stated, nearly shitting your skirt and thong on his green velvet chair. And cleared your throat. “My first question is…” Your friend’s questions doesn’t give that much benefit for his time and success, so you tweaked your friend’s intentions to more of a productive approach. “How do you stabilize the company despite on the near downfall from the predecessor’s influential endeavors?”

Aemond’s violet eye gleamed. “You did your research on my father.”

In silence, your head inclined as acknowledgment.

“My father’s attempts on reclaim to the company was rather a long difficult process. His real endeavor was to lure people for…unsavory tasks and planned on passing his inheritance to his oldest daughter, my half-sister, Rhaenyra.”

Something in his statement was trying to say he wishes to air the dirty laundry. But you knew that he’s not an idiot.

“And how do you approach it compared to his “past” attempts?”

“Business travels had more suitable to catering and stabilizing the company in years, by speaking to several CEOs and their predecessors who are much more responsible to financial and stocks, how they be able to keep the staff members and their company intact in excellent condition and how business traveling has more benefits on success than staying in one place in one country. Their predecessors are much more controlling than how much stocks they hold—eventually they lost their staff and shares due to certain disadvantages. I learned both sides of the same coin, and I learned to take advantage of both.”

“By being fair and firm,” you assumed, pen scribbling. “You want to be superior and be well-respected, but you also try to be fair in all sides to keep a steady balance, hence why you travel to different countries to learn about different cultures and their ways of work culture, how they handle their staff and clients. And you looked at the bad effects to make sure no mistake is taken place.”

“Precisely.” Aemond smirked as you wrote along his statement.

Scribbling further down on the page until you flipped to a next one, you tweaked another question that your friend’s opposing curiosity has.

“With comes along the inheritance, and with the hefty influence of social media, how do you manage to steady the balance as well? With your father’s…whereabouts and the company, and with today’s social influence and societal aspects on differences, how else do you keep manage from falling?”

Aemond clicked his tongue. “It was a difficult process, and like any ordinary day, we strive for sanity to survive. Not everyone handles scandals correctly. While those who handle with promiscuity, I handled myself, the staff and the company with grace.”

“I assumed that some of the members who are in connections with you, have no ability to face the outcome with grace like you?” you said without thinking.

Aemond frowned at that. “Not everyone.”

“My apologies, sir.” You flipped the blank page over. “And with that said, how do you envision your company in the next 30 years?”

“The questions you asked are vitally intimidating. Are you trying to challenge me in a way?”

“For your benefit of time and success, yes.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a soft grin. “Clever girl.”

Gulped again, you found your legs coiled to a tighter position. Hand nearly shook and released the pen, but caught on it.

Focus, (Y/N). No time to be naughty.

Stop being naughty. Don’t leave yourself along with naughty thoughts. You don’t want to jump on him.

Aemond sat down near you to another set of green velvet chair.

“Continue,” he said, almost sounded like a purr.

“I, uh,” you looked over your friend’s silly questions and alternate it with another. Meanwhile Aemond amused himself with your fluster. “With you as a CEO of the Targaryen Company, where do you find yourself in the next 20 years? Are you planning to be the CEO, or are you planning to inherit the company and stocks to someone new, someone who’s not related to you, even?”

Aemond’s head tilted to the side, his white-blond hair spilled over his right shoulder.

“I would like to know more about yourself, Miss Stark. For a woman who belongs to a prestigious family, your wit and tongue are sharp. Are you always this curious?”

“You’ve met them?”

His brow flicked up. “I met your father during the meeting sometime last week. He has a well-deserved reputation.”

Your hands clutched tighter.

Aemond squinted his hues. “There’s more than meets the eye. What is your name?”

Correcting your postured, you answered in delicate voice. “My name is (Y/N), sir. (Y/N) (L/N).”

Aemond hummed. “(Y/N). I never thought you took your friend’s place to interview me.”

“She’s sick.”

“Figures.”

Your brows scrunched. “How do you know?”

“I can see the way you’re fidgeting to your pen.”

“How do you know her?”

“I know she’s not the brightest girl, nor a brightest student. I overheard her spoke once over a party on how she wanted to have a wonderful marriage with a wealthy man to make her ex-boyfriend jealous.”

“Okay, I don’t need to know that sort of detail, but—”

Aemond took the folded paper from your hand. “Are you single? Are you interested in marriage besides marrying to your own company? Does your family know that I’m single?” He looked at you in disbelief and said, “I’m surprised you have thought of particular questions you asked on the spot despite the opposing questions your friend makes.”

“It’s a job interview. It’s meant to be taken seriously.”

“And you did well, Miss (Y/N). Therefore, I wished to know more about you.” His back leaned in on a large chair frame, as he tossed the folded paper on a small coffee table. “What are you studying right now?”

“I major in history and art.”

“What are your favorite things to do on your spare time?”

“I like to go to the gym. Go to Starbucks and drink coffee. Sometimes I make coffee at home, and then…I sometimes read and watch a lot of shows…”

“What kind of shows?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“So it’s romance?”

“Yes, but a different kind of romance…” you stated, awkward.

Aemond titled his head again.

You shifted in your seat.

“It’s a…um….”

He chuckled. “I never meant to put you on a spot, Miss (L/N), I apologize. So what are your plans regarding to work?”

“I’m studying at the moment for my finals.”

Aemond uncrossed his legs, his back leaned forward, gazing to your eyes. “I would like for you to be as my secretary.”

Your lips parted.

“There’s an internship that I’m offering at the current moment. More benefits for my staff and PTO.”

You leaned back and thought of the offer, but Aemond stopped you.

“What sort of books are you into, Miss (Y/N)? If I were to guess, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy, which author do you prefer?”

“I prefer Leo Tolstoy and Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

Aemond folded his hands together. “Sad and poetic?”

“It’s the closest thing to reality. I don’t mind Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte or Tom Hardy. Although Tom Hardy’s stories are also considered as tragic. But..reading modern romance novels isn’t so bad. But I found myself more addictive to coffee, fashionable clothes and beauty products more now.”

You found yourself smiling at that. The sharp gasp filled in your throat when Aemond’s hand reached you, and tugged the band wrapped around your hair, loosening it, and combed the silk, lustrous strands through his fingertips, staring at you.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

You nearly pinched yourself before the secretary entered. “There’s a meeting in the conference room. Another company has requested for your presence.”

Aemond retrieved his hand on time. “I’ll be there soon.”

The door closed as you said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” And a heavy thud clashed onto the ground. It was a gift. For him.

“For you,” you said, handing the gift over.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate.”

Aemond chuckled shortly. “I don’t eat sweets, Miss (L/N).”

As you got up from the seat, Aemond’s hand grasp for your wrist, making your head turn to meet his beautiful eyes. “Think about my offer,” he said, along that, he handed you his card by tucking the card in on one of your back pocket of your skirt, lingering on feeling your round ass than how someone touched you.

With that, you bowed and left his spacious offer, leaving him with wonder and amazement.

He ripped out the ribbon and wrap, revealing it to be compliments for him. Chocolates—as you claimed—and framed translucent glass with a green ink dragon inside.

He ripped one of the pieces from the chocolate box and ate one. Sweet, like yours. He wondered what you would feel and taste like.

Aemond found himself a new toy to play with. Another bite of the caramelized chocolate, with finding himself in an entrance with you, he has his sights on you. And thus dialing the phone number on his smartphone.

“Sir?” a voice said on the other side of the phone call.

“Hello. I have a task for you. You won’t fail me.”

One taste of you, and he won’t ever plan on letting you go.

~~~

Heavy door slammed shut and met up with your friend again.

“Sooo…how’s your meeting with him? What’s he like?”

“He’s…nice?”

“Nice? Saying the word ‘nice’ is automatically a code for friend zone.”

“No, I mean, he, he’s intimidating, and yet he’s able to answer my questions.”

“You mean my questions?”

You handed over your notebook to your friend on your original questions. “Wow, even I can’t ask a question like that.”

“Aemond found out that I stepped in for the interview instead of you.”

“How can you tell?”

“He met your father last week. And he already knows what you look like.”

“I never even knew him personally.”

“And he overheard you on how you wanted to marry a rich to make your ex jealous. That’s not something to easily slip by. Aemond has sharp ears and tongue.”

“Ugh, he caught me.”

“And yet those questions you wanted to ask him is simply more than an interview because why?”

“Because no one knows about him personally.”

“Yeah, but on a matter of a serious spectrum, not a flirtation. Do you even find him attractive, or do you want to set up with his siblings?”

“Ew, no, I don’t find Aemond handsome, but his other brothers do. Or his uncle.” Your friend looked over your interview questions. “Looks like he’s impressed by you.”

“He is.”

“So is he asking you out on a date?”

“No he asked me to be as his secretary.”

Your friend gasped. “No!”

“Yes, he is. He mentioned about the internship, and..”

“Are you going to take it?”

“I haven’t thought about it that much. I’m still studying for the finals.”

Your friend made a casual dismissive wave. “You’ll do great in the company and you get to see his gorgeous face everyday.”

“I thought you said he’s not your type.”

“He’s not. I like his uncle more. Older guys are my thing.”

“Right. Because older men knows how to take care because of their experience.”

“Exactly! I think you and Aemond are going to get along so well! Who knows you’ll get benefits. Even from him.” She winked and took the rest of the coffee.

“Hey!”

“Thanks for the coffee!” And the bedroom door slammed shut, leaving you happy about today’s outcome.

Clapped your hands together, you said aloud to yourself, “Alright! Time for me to take a shower, get dressed and watch some drama on Netflix.” And cheered your way into the bathroom. “By the way,” you called your friend out, shouting, “I didn’t get to tape-record him!”

“WHHHAAAAAATTTTT?!” is what your frantic friend responded.

~~~

Unbeknownst to you, while you’re undressed and soaked in the shower, Aemond’s pants unzipped, his hand caressed his large cock, pressed it harder as you scrubbed your legs and backside.

Delicious.

The bulge in his pants was ready to spring during the interview with you.

Thanks to the card he handed over by tucking it into your back pocket, he felt how good your ass looks. How your ponytail given him an impression that you’re a good girl on the outside but a bad girl was somewhere hiding, dying to get out.

Stroking his hard cock faster, moaning aloud—strained—as he watched you rinsed the soap from your body and stepped out of the shower with your tits bounced, remembering the perfume scent as Aemond went close to you. How he’ll perform his fantasies with you. Envisioned you, right next to a knife, he’ll play with blood trickling down on your skin alongside of bruises on your wrists on handcuffs.

It was beautiful.

Divine.

Cum spritz out, flying and plopping over his thighs, leaving him with a heavy huff and lustful gaze glueing to your naked body, drying up from a steamed shower.

She’ll be mine.

Taglist: @kittendoll05 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @heavenly1927 @snh96 @httpsmenace @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @liannafae @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @jolixtreesunn @screaming-potato @dixie-elocin @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @blackgaladriel @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @fun-loving-peach @jmliebert @ilikechocolatemilkh @20thcentwriter @sepherinaspoppies @venmondiese @snowprincesa1 @witchy-v1xen @1800-fight-me @fan-goddess @persephonerinyes @anukulee @galactict3a @maxshortformaxine @lcolumbia1988 @ilikemintpeassss-blog @arcielee @hippiedippiekitty @bellaisasleep @lokiofasgard12 @barnes70stark @vipervixxen @f1girlieee @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9

241 notes · View notes

servantofthefates · 1 month ago

Text

Why Blood Magic Is Powerful

Because it proves your devotion.

Many witches perform spells with a mindset of, “Well, it’s just a few cheap candles and herbs. If it doesn’t work, no loss.” But when someone is willing to hurt themselves in the name of a ritual, that proves their faith in what they are doing. And as I have said before, such faith is what truly makes a spell powerful.

Because your blood stays alive.

Your blood is your conscious agent. When sealing a pact between you and another by mixing your blood with theirs, your contract becomes binding. Even if, in the future, you no longer feel like honoring your vow, that part of you which you spilled always will, keeping you loyal to your pledge. And thus, giving your blood is a testament to your lasting commitment.

Because blood serves as your identification.

Bloodline is not everything in witchcraft. But it does matter, because we can inherit the powers of our ancestors. And because there may be entities connected to your family who might be willing to work with you. Using your blood helps activate any suppressed abilities that may have been passed down to you, and becomes an invitation to entities who are attached to your lineage.

Because a person’s blood connects you to them.

If you are performing transcending magic (i.e. binding/unbinding and manipulation/control spells), then having a drop of your target’s blood strengthens your dominance over them. Much like a Voodoo doll would. Except having someone’s blood extends your influence beyond their body to their thoughts and emotions.

Because blood is life.

As discussed above, a drop of human blood, when willingly given, is a dose of commitment. When presented, it is a method of identification. And when secretly taken, it is a means of control. Which is why, just as water nurtures plants, and food nourishes humans, blood feeds occult forces. It connects us to supernatural sources who enjoy witnessing our pure essence.

Contrary to what we see in fiction, blood magic has always been performed with the best health precautions available to practitioners in their era. No real witch ever just took out a knife and slashed their palm casually. Blood magic has always been treated with the utmost respect. It will not work for those who neither understand nor revere it.

#Blood magic #Witchcraft #Witch tips #Witchblr #servantofthefates #All About Spells #All About Witchcraft

211 notes · View notes

eamour · 10 months ago

Text

dwelling on the past.

manifestation, or in other words entering a new state by leaving the old one, requires for you to accept a new story for yourself. it asks us to let go of the undesirable conceptions of ourselves we once believed to be true. how is it that we can still find it hard to do so? why is it so challenging to choose new, favourable concepts?

inner resistance.

the answer is simple: it’s called resistance. resistance, or to feel resistant towards something, means to refuse to accept or comply with something. it’s the ability not to be affected by a something specific.

usually, this inner resistance comes from a place of fear. feeling uncertain and being unable to conceptualise a different life that we are not familiar with yet makes us feel uncomfortable. we also might start to assume that it’s too much that we are asking for, that we might me undeserving of it or need to do something physically first in order to earn it. remaining in a place we are already in, a place we already know — no matter how desirable or unwanted it may be — gives us a safety net and provides us with comfort.

being conscious.

the law of assumption, in other words, is a law of consciousness. time doesn’t exist linearly and we can only ever experience consciousness. what this means is that neither the past nor the future exist, only the present moment does, and so only our present conceptions of self.

"thoughts of the past do not recede but precede in our future." — edward art.

dwelling on the past and what once was means to become reaware of being that version of yourself in the NOW. by remembering something unpleasant, you are reliving that experience and push out that exact concept of yourself.

letting go.

let a phase of life come to and end. finish it. cut all ties with the old story and who you have been and what you used to have or not have. i promise, you don’t need to be the same person you were 5 minutes ago. you don’t have to be them, feel what they felt, assume what they assumed, know what they knew, believe what they believed, think what they thought, …

moving forward.

it’s time to change your path and to redirect yourself. you can create a new beginning and freshly start over. you can do it WHENEVER and WHEREVER you want. you can assume a new story for yourself and not ask anyone for permission or allowance. you don’t need to beg anyone for forgiveness and you definitely don’t need anyone to accept it. you don’t need anyone to validate your new story, BUT you. embody it in the mind first and see its expression unfold right in front of your eyes.

with love, ella.

518 notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

Text

Writing Notes: Emotions

Definitions in Psychology (Anger; Anticipation; Anxiety; Contempt; Desire; Disgust; Distress; Fear; Guilt; Happiness; Interest; Joy; Pain; Pleasure; Rage; Sadness; Shame; Sorrow; Surprise; Terror; Wonder)

Anger

An emotion characterized by tension and hostility arising from frustration, real or imagined injury by another, or perceived injustice.

Can manifest itself in behaviors designed to remove the object of the anger (e.g., determined action) or behaviors designed merely to express the emotion (e.g., swearing).

Distinct from, but a significant activator of, aggression, which is behavior intended to harm someone or something. Despite their mutually influential relationship, anger is neither necessary nor sufficient for aggression to occur.

Anticipation

Looking forward to a future event or state.

Sometimes with an affective component (e.g., pleasure, anxiety).

Anxiety

An emotion characterized by apprehension and somatic symptoms of tension in which an individual anticipates impending danger, catastrophe, or misfortune.

The body often mobilizes itself to meet the perceived threat:

Muscles become tense, breathing is faster, and the heart beats more rapidly.

May be distinguished from fear both conceptually and physiologically, although the two terms are often used interchangeably.

Considered a future-oriented, long-acting response broadly focused on a diffuse threat, whereas fear is an appropriate, present-oriented, and short-lived response to a clearly identifiable and specific threat.

Contempt

An emotion characterized by negative regard for anything or anybody considered to be inferior, vile, or worthless.

Desire

A strong feeling of wanting or needing something.

Can be a motivating force that drives behavior and influences decision-making.

Can be related to a wide range of things, such as material possessions, experiences, relationships, or personal goals.

Often considered to be an emotion, and it can be accompanied by physical sensations such as an increased heart rate or butterflies in the stomach.

However, it can also be more cognitive in nature, driven by thoughts and beliefs rather than just emotional reactions.

Disgust

A strong aversion.

For example, to the taste, smell, or touch of something deemed revolting, or toward a person or behavior deemed morally repugnant.

Distress

A negative emotional state in which the specific quality of the emotion is unspecified or unidentifiable.

For example, stranger anxiety in infants is more properly designated stranger distress because the infant’s negative behavior, typically crying, allows no more specific identification of the emotion.

Fear

A basic, intense emotion aroused by the detection of imminent threat, involving an immediate alarm reaction that mobilizes the organism by triggering a set of physiological changes.

These include rapid heartbeat, redirection of blood flow away from the periphery toward the gut, tensing of the muscles, and a general mobilization of the organism to take action.

Fear differs from anxiety in that the former is considered an appropriate short-term response to a present, clearly identifiable threat, whereas the latter is a future-oriented, long-term response focused on a diffuse threat.

Some theorists characterize this distinction more particularly, proposing that fear is experienced when avoiding or escaping an aversive stimuli and that anxiety is experienced when entering a potentially dangerous situation (e.g., an animal foraging in a field where there might be a predator).

Whatever their precise differences in meaning, however, the terms are often used interchangeably in common parlance.

Guilt

A self-conscious emotion characterized by a painful appraisal of having done (or thought) something that is wrong and often by a readiness to take action designed to undo or mitigate this wrong.

It is distinct from shame, in which there is the additional strong fear of one’s deeds being publicly exposed to judgment or ridicule.

Happiness

An emotion of joy, gladness, satisfaction, and well-being.

Interest

An attitude characterized by a need or desire to give selective attention to something that is significant to the individual:

Such as an activity, goal, or research area.

Joy

A feeling of extreme gladness, delight, or exultation of the spirit arising from a sense of well-being or satisfaction.

The feeling of joy may take two forms: passive and active.

Passive joy involves tranquility and contentment with things as they are.

Active joy involves a desire to share one’s feelings with others. It is associated with more engagement of the environment than is passive joy.

The distinction between passive and active joy may be related to the intensity of the emotion, with active joy representing the more intense form.

Both forms of joy are associated with an increase in energy and feelings of confidence and self-esteem.

Pain

An unpleasant sensation resulting from damage to nerve tissue, stimulation of free nerve endings, or excessive stimulation (e.g., extremely loud sounds).

Physical pain is elicited by stimulation of pain receptors, which occur in groups of myelinated or unmyelinated fibers throughout the body but particularly in surface tissues.

Pain that is initiated in surface receptors generally is perceived as sharp, sudden, and localized; pain experienced in internal organs tends to be dull, longer lasting, and less localized.

Although pain is generally considered a physical phenomenon, it involves various cognitive, affective, and behavioral factors: It is an unpleasant emotional as well as sensory experience. It may also be a feeling of severe distress and suffering resulting from acute anxiety, loss of a loved one, or other psychological factors (see psychic pain).

Because of these various factors, as well as previous experience in pain response, individual reactions vary widely.

Psychologists have made important contributions to understanding pain by demonstrating the psychosocial and behavioral factors in the etiology, severity, exacerbation, maintenance, and treatment of both physical and psychic pain.

Pleasure

The emotion or sensation induced by the enjoyment or anticipation of what is felt or viewed as good or desirable.

Rage

Intense, typically uncontrolled anger.

Usually differentiated from hostility in that it is not necessarily accompanied by destructive actions but rather by excessive expressions.

In nonhuman animals, rage appears to be a late stage of aggression when normal deterrents to physical attack, such as submissive signals, are no longer effective.

Generally includes rapid respiration; thrusting and jerking of limbs; and clawing, biting, and snarling.

Sadness

An emotional state of unhappiness.

Ranges in intensity from mild to extreme.

Usually aroused by the loss of something that is highly valued (e.g., by the rupture of a relationship).

Shame

A highly unpleasant self-conscious emotion.

Arising from the sense of there being something dishonorable, immodest, or indecorous in one’s own conduct or circumstances.

Typically characterized by withdrawal from social intercourse:

For example, by hiding or distracting the attention of another from one’s shameful action—which can have a profound effect on psychological adjustment and interpersonal relationships.

May motivate not only avoidant behavior but also defensive, retaliative anger.

Psychological research consistently reports a relationship between proneness to shame and a host of psychological symptoms, including depression, anxiety, eating disorders, subclinical sociopathy, and low self-esteem.

Theorized to play a more positive adaptive function by regulating experiences of excessive and inappropriate interest and excitement and by diffusing potentially threatening social behavior.

Sorrow

A more "intense" emotion than sadness.

Can be caused by a past event (somebody's death, some other great loss).

Implies a long term state, possibly resulting from a past event, or from a past discovery of a long-term condition (e.g. childlessness or an incurable disease of one's child or spouse).

May have its roots in the past, but the stress is an ongoing, long-term state.

Surprise

An emotion typically resulting from the violation of an expectation or the detection of novelty in the environment.

Considered by some theorists to be one of the emotions that have a universal pattern of facial expression.

The physiological response includes raising or arching the eyebrows, opening the eyes wide, opening the mouth wide in an oval shape, and gasping.

Terror

Intense and overwhelming fear.

Wonder

An emotional state that arises when individuals encounter something surprising, unexpected, or profoundly beautiful.

This experience can lead to a heightened state of awareness and a desire to understand or explore the phenomena further.

Wonder is considered a positive emotion that can enhance cognitive functioning, creativity, and overall well-being.

Components of Wonder

Awe: A feeling of reverence and amazement, often in response to something grand or sublime.

Curiosity: A strong desire to learn or know more about the object of wonder.

Admiration: A sense of appreciation for the beauty, complexity, or uniqueness of the experience.

Surprise: An unexpected element that challenges preexisting knowledge or assumptions.

Transcendence: A feeling of being connected to something larger than oneself, often evoking a sense of humility and perspective.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ On Emotions

162 notes · View notes