#precisely 0 regrets though

[mysticstarlightduck]

Unorthodox Ship Dynamic Tag!

Rules: Come up with five unorthodox, overly specific, or niche dynamics for one of your ships. You can do all of them based on the same ship, or pick a different one for each, or somewhere in between.

I'll go with the main ships from Supernova Initiative!

SUPERNOVA INITIATIVE

Jack & Lyorna

His basic diet consists of the space equivalent of choccy milk and dino nuggets at 25 years old X Essentially the galaxy's health and wellness guru- thinks trail mix and granola bars are a valid dessert

Talks the most concerning, confusing gibberish in his sleep X Practically kickboxes while sleeping, moves far too much to be cuddled

Street urchin that hasn't met a Responsible Adult in the past fifteen years X Her Parents' Little Princess

Legitmatelly thinks fruit loops have color-coded tastes and for some reason likes soggy cereal X Has an uncanny resistance to caffeine - will fall asleep after chugging a whole mug of coffee

Deimos & Vesper

Chugs 3 bottles of energy drinks while pulling an all-nighter to play old videogames X Has surgical precision when it comes to going to sleep and waking up

Will implode at the mere thought of being imperfect at anything X Gives exactly 0 fucks what others think of her

'Self Love?' I never heard of it X Will stab a bitch if someone talks crap about her

Cassiopeia & Artemis

Hyperactive, genius teenager that cannot be left unsupervised without Chaos ensuing X Depressed Hot Topic wannabe

Will listen to Punk Rock or Pop Punk at 2AM on full blast X Has the music taste of a 90-year-old man

"Someone Will Die" X "- OF FUN!"

Refuses to buy new clothes unless forcibly dragged to the store X Impeccable style (indie/grunge, but make it outer space) + large collection of black nail polish and eyeliners

Gabi & Elysia

Deals with frustration just as well as a pressure cooker left on the stove for too long X Has never been anything other than the embodiment of chill

Essentially raised by the Space-Version of Joel from TLOU... or John Wick. X Has the most fucked up family but refuses to acknowledge it for her sanity

"I HAVE THE POWER OF MY FISTS AND ANIME ON MY SIDE" X Too done with life to give a damn, is amused though

Noctus & Aleks

Pragmatic rule-follower who just wanted one chill mission - X Is a Menace to Society who is effortlessly sassy and occasionally petty

Has not a single clue what a Sense of Humor is X Makes "deez nuts" level jokes and loves shitty puns

Regrets everything that led him to this situation X Regrets NOTHING and will do it all again if prompted

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @the-golden-comet, @urnumber1star and OPEN TAG

[thealmightyemprex]

How I would end an adaptation of Macbeth

This is for my Shakespear buddies out there.Now its been a while since I ve read Macbeth(!0 years to be precise) but while its a play I love....The ending is a bit weak and leaves open dangling threads,as such filmmakers have taken liberties a few of which I will use in this ending

*Macbeth and Mcduff engage in the final duel in the rain

Macbeth:I will not yield  To kiss the ground before young Malcolm’s feet  And to be baited with the rabble’s curse. 35 Though Birnam Wood be come to Dunsinane  And thou opposed, being of no woman born,  Yet I will try the last. Before my body  I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,  And damned be him that first cries “Hold! Enough!”

Macbeth is thenslain by Mcduff .Camera lingers on the body of Macbeth.....As the music kicks in.....Have You Ever Seen the Rain by Clerance Clearwater Revival

It then becomes a montage

Mcduff finss Malcolm and tosses him the crown

There is much rejoicing at the rightful king being crowned

Malcom is shown sitting alone in his thownroom,a wicked smile coming to his face

A cloacked figure is shown riding to the hut of the three witches ,to reveal himself to be Donalbain

Mcduff is shown riding through the woods where he glimpses the spirits of Duncan and Banquo ,seemingly leading him somewhere ,he nearly breaks down seeing the spirits of his family which leads him to Fleance,he welcomes the orphan to ride on his horse and they ride off together

Looking on as the ride is the spirits of Lord and Lady Macbeth .Their faces are full of rage and regret .The hold eatchothers hands,both smeared in blood and walk off into oblivion

So what do you think

@ariel-seagull-wings @themousefromfantasyland @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @princesssarisa @the-blue-fairie @piterelizabethdevries @amalthea9

[thesolemnhour]

i'm curious, what variation and ballerina would you give to agria

Ama, I am SO glad you asked! I mentioned it here, but I have decided to use my executive power as blog owner to answer this question in so much more detail than you could have ever wanted.

The tl;dr answer is Natalia Osipova. The answer is so strongly Natalia Osipova that I couldn't bring myself to assign her to anyone else, even to characters where it would have made sense like Ariadne, Mino, or Hilde (though I think I found more fitting answers). The emotional freedom of her performances and her dogged stubbornness to stick to her own vision scream Agria.

As for a variation, I am weak, and I can't pick just one, so I have three! Look out below, everyone. Ballet takes be upon ye.

Kitri's Entrance

Natalia Osipova debuted her first principal role as Kitri when she was actually still just a member of the corps de ballet at the Bolshoi in Moscow. Osipova's Kitri is so, so special. The music starts up, and immediately, Natalia just absolutely bowls you over with her force of personality. You never ever ask yourself, "Who is this Kitri character, and why is everyone so obsessed with her?" You're right there clapping along like the rest of the ensemble!

There are so many wonderful details to the way she plays the character. How she tips her head to the side with a big smile at 0:24 to the music just delights me. Wherever she goes, the stage is too small to hold her.

Osipova describes this debut like a Cinderella story. She said something to the extent of, "I performed as Kitri, and the next day, I woke up famous."

2. Giselle Act II (0:00-0:18 and 1:08-2:13 for Agria but by god you should watch all of it)

This is the Osipova role that truly means everything to me.

I want to give a little context about where Osipova was in her career at this point: in 2011, she left the Bolshoi because she found their way of doing things to be creatively restrictive. When someone at the Bolshoi tells you to do these steps in this order, it's not usually up for debate. She didn't sign another contract until 2013 when she joined the Royal Opera House. This performance isn't too long after.

Giselle is sometimes referred to as ballet's Hamlet; the range it demands is tremendous. I discussed it in greater detail here, but I really like to read Giselle as a coming-of-age story where Giselle becomes an adult through the act of dying. Act II Giselle is all regret and wasted potential. Emma Byrne put it best when she said Osipova's Giselle rose from her grave "hollowed-eyed and sunken-cheeked, ready to go into battle for love."

It must have been so difficult for Osipova to follow up such an incredible performance as Kitri at the Bolshoi, and though she'd had a million incredible performances since she'd left, I think putting such a profound stamp on the character of Giselle in this performance proved that Osipova had been right to leave. It allowed her to grow.

Everything about this, from Osipova's place in life to the eeriness she manages to convey to Giselle's theme of regret, fit Agria outrageously well.

3. Raymonda Act III

Osipova in absolute command of her craft! I picked this variation for Lenarius/Leonosa to demonstrate Svetlana Zakhrova's control and precision, but here, I want to point out the way that Osipova throws herself into every role with all of the blood and breath in her body. She couldn't possibly be giving more at any moment. It's thrilling, and it feels like watching a force of nature. This is exactly how Agria would dance.

[onyxisnotuniqueenough]

About Karen Page

so. i know this weird little argument should've ended long ago. but i'm in the process of rewatching the defenders saga and i'm actually in the middle of s2 of Daredevil....AND YES I WANNA WRITE A WHOLE TUMBLR POST ABOUT KAREN OK

but first, i wanted to give a little extra info or context or whatever i'm supposed to call it

here are the links to the posts relevant here

0 (me)

1 (me)

2 (me)

3 (nyxxhecate)

4 (nyxxhecate)

5 (nyxxhecate)

also the comments count too. look at whatever nyxxhecate commented on these posts

I unblocked nyxxhecate since i first blocked them, out of honest curiosity. right before i'm writing this actually.

I just wanted to see if they've commented anything else since then or if they made posts on their own about their opinions on Daredevil. Three of the links above are their posts, and idk if tumblr notifies for that but I still don't want to @ them.

I'm not interested in debating with them or starting another argument, and couldn't care less of they see this or not. I am not writing to this person like i was in my other posts, nor am i answering to their comments or whatever points they brought up in their reblogs.

there is ONE thing they said that rang with me though :

"knock your fucking self off that pedestal you're trying to put yourself in. Imagine the level of delusion one must have to think they're intelligent because, *checks notes* they typed in word salad to defend why they like two atrocious TV characters LMAO. You're on Tumblr not the fucking Congress, get a grip IJBOL"

I'm gonna be honest here - I DO enjoy typing word salad. I enjoy writing. I enjoy writing essays. I enjoy trying to use exact words to say what i want to say.

English is my second language, technically, yes, but I have been speaking it for more then ten years, and i'm doing my best to improve because i'm hoping that i'll get to work in english some day. My accent isn't perfect but I'm confident in my spelling and writing and everything.

I've been raised in french, I've done primary, middle and high school in french, and my uni is also french-speaking. I write everything in french all of the time. But since i've taught myself to think in english first sometimes, and none of my irl friends or family like Daredevil or Breaking Bad or anything i like in general - I don't get many chances to argue irl.

So yes, I use Tumblr as an outlet to type as much as I want, even if that means talking to a wall, but at least i get to talk about (IN LENGTH) things i love - and open some kind of discussion (although i'm not blind, i know that rarely anyone replies or anything, but that will hopefully come in time)

---

Now that that's said - let's get to the actual main course :

Karen Page !

As I've said in the beginning i am in the middle of s2 of DD, just finished EP6 : Regrets Only to be precise. I've already got a few things to say.

but first : I'll only talk about her in S1 and S2 and Defenders - because believe it or not, as much as I love Daredevil I AM SORRY but I HAVE NOT YET WATCHED SEASON 3. i miraculously haven't been spoiled about much, all I know is that Matt wakes up in church after his "death", boxes there, there's some kind of detective that seems important and he fights with Fisk again in his black outfit. THAT'S ALL I KNOW AND LET'S KEEP IT THAT WAY.

So.

what do i, Onyx LastName, think of Karen's character.

On my first watch, I didn't like her at all.

Not because she was a "hypocrite"or whatever everyone else is spewing but because I had this huge crush on Matt and was jealous of her.

I'll admit, that's all that my judgement was based on. I thought I didn't like her chemistry with Matt, the way that it made the Nelson-Murdock-Page trio awkward, and how it left Foggy on the sidelines. I like him. I related to him. He was suffering of Sidekick syndrome, with Matt getting powers, getting to be the hero, getting all the ladies, etc etc. I spent my whole life and I'm still actually spending it feeling like I have Sidekick Syndrome myself. If you also feel like you got that you'll know what I mean.

"So Foggy has a special place in your heart. Boohoo. what does that have to do with anything?" You've read this far and you're JUST NOW running out of patience??

Since that initial watch, and after watching countless videos, reading countless fanfics, and honestly my taste just having changed - my perspective of Matt shifted, and so has my opinion on Karen.

I don't think i'm blinded by my attration to Matt anymore, even if he still holds a special place in my heart.

But unfortunately, I still have some issues with Karen's character.

I don't think I've ever really talked about it on here, except maybe with a friend or two in dms, but it's true that I don't really like her. Or how was she was written. This post is not structured or outlined, it's a stream of consciousness...so let's hope i get the answer to that by the end of it.

Now i'm nowhere near agreeing with ANY of what nyxxhecate said, but knowing I wanted to have a definitive opinion of her and make a post about it maybe, I've been looking at her closely during my rewatch - and there are some things I've missed.

So, first, to correct my previous post,

Why is Karen attracted to Matt in the first place?

I made my post about the Foggy and Karen thing before rewatching and refreshing my memory of the ACTUAL EVENTS. I just wrote that in passing after seeing a reaction of that "date" at Mrs. Cardenas.

Here is an updated take :

I think Karen fell for Matt when she first lied to him about keeping the Union Allied file.

You just lived through an intense traumatic experience. You find yourself with a bloody knife in your hand next to the lifeless body of someone you knew and found really nice. Someone tries to hang you in your prison cell at night to make it look like you killed yourself, and no one believes you.

until Nelson and Murdock come in. You're not sure about their intentions at first but they seem kind and most importantly they believe you and are willing to defend you. They're giving you a chance. Not good samaritans but literal guardian angels.

While Foggy is hesitant at first, Matt "I believe you Miss Page"s you right off the bat. (everything's a verb if you squint hard enough)

Matt invites you to his place and assures he'll protect you.

Matt opens up about his blindness and is willing to be vulnerable in front of you.

Matt gives up his silk-sheeted bed to make sure you're comfortable.

All of that when you're vulnerable and Matt is tall and handsome and has this charming smile and ugh. How not to fall for him ? I mean you're wearing his shirt and the beautiful pink lighting in his living room is making everything all romantic. Also if you've noticed the billboard outside his window is for "Xining Airways", company that uses CHERRY BLOSSOM imagery in their advertisement. COME ON.

But then you get to talking about the case again - I mean the reason you're here in the first place - and he asks you an important question.

Did you keep the file?

You lie and say you didn't, feeling your heart beating faster. You're not even sure that sounded convincing at all. And you see the cogs turning in his head, and even if he let you off the hook, you know deep down he didn't really believe it. May seem like me extrapolating here but it IS obvious that he doesn't believe her. But as long as he's not pushing further, that doesn't change much for Karen anyway.

I think that his expression reads that he's seeing right through her.

He believed her when no one else would the first time - but seemingly for no reason.

Matt just KNEW you didn't do it. He saw right through you. You almost feel like he knows what you're thinking.

And again, that kind of connection that you're feeling, in an especially emotionally vulnerable state - plants the seed for love. EASILY.

Any of their awkward flirting before they started dating i am willing to close an eye on.

AFTER THAT? that's just cruel to Foggy and unprofessional and weird in general. Why the HELL are you holding hands in front of whatever DA or cop you just talked to to walk in Frank's hospital room?

Why are you kissing in front of Foggy???

I can understand the thing at Josie's but when you're in the middle of dealing with an extremely important case and Elektra's driver shows up out of nowhere and you're abandoning your partner in a situation that you created and ugh. ew. It's all so weird.

I don't like Karen and Matt dating any more than I did on the first watch but I don't see it through jealousy-tinted glasses and more for what it actually is. misplaced.

Season 2 is the least favorite Daredevil season of anyone I've ever met or talked to and I completely agree that the structure is strange, even if I get what they wanted to do with juxtaposing

Daredevil/Elektra/Hand stuff

and

Matt/Karen/Punisher stuff.

This juxtaposition, while I kinda get the vision, just isn't working. The Hand is the worst plot I have ever seen in my life, and that applies to Defenders too, so that's one reason, but the fact that they tried to mix everything together at once just felt weird pacing wise - and they lost characterization on Matt, Foggy and Elektra's part. All three and their relationships with each other were written weird.

...

Let's get back on track.

Season 2, Karen spends her time investigating and defending Frank.

And that is what she's most criticized for : "protecting and defending frank's actions" and "condemning Matt's lying when she's lying herself."

Frank Castle is a difficult subject.

He is the subject of many debates, wether in the fandom or in the actual show. Is he a hero? Are his murders justifiable? Are Matt and Frank two sides of the same coin? What message is he sending to the audience? How should he be interpreted by his audience? Is Frank redeemable? Is he a glorification or a fetishization of everything that's wrong with the USA? and so on so forth bla bla bla

What matters HERE is what KAREN thinks of him.

Karen is a very determined and ambitious journalist, to say the least. She'd do anything to get to the truth. These qualities that seem very noble at first are also her main flaws. By putting the story first, she throws caution the wind and that very recklessness of hers is what kills Ben Urich, and what compels her to defend Frank so adamantly.

But there's a facet of her personality that I haven't seen being delved into or explained anywhere - her sometimes misplaced but very much there Savior complex, or White Knight syndrome.

She empathized and honestly liked Mrs. Cardenas (a cute old little guatemalan christian lady, who had no one). She wanted to help her. She felt that she was treated unfairly, that all the tenants were treated unfairly, and that was what prompted her to want to take down Fisk. Fisk was using, manipulating and stealing blind people who were already unfortunate. Fisk is lying to the public and hiding his true criminal activities. Savior Complex is activated, now Karen has to find a way to bring him down, even if that means putting her nose where it doesn't belong and provoking the death of Ben Urich.

Now let's look at the situation in S2.

She empathizes with Frank Castle (a man who's entire family got killed and now has no one). He has some kind of moral code that seems noble to her. She feels that he's being treated unfairly, that no one is taking his dead family into account, or what he's already done as a soldier. Frank is unapologetically admitting and sticking by his actions and his code. He doesn't want to hurt anyone that doesn't deserve, in his eyes, to die. Reyes is not upholding her side of the wit-pro deal (She used Grotto as bait, someone Karen already empathized with). Reyes was purposefully trying to get Frank the death penalty for her own gain (she had her eye on the mayor's office) and is hiding a shady past. Savior Complex is activated, now Karen has to find a way to prove that Frank's not all bad and to expose Reyes, even if that means putting her nose where it doesn't belong and overstepping boundaries when she's not a lawyer, and frankly doesn't deserve to get Ben's desk or his job.

When you finally pin down her behavioral pattern and why she acts how she acts, it's easier to understand.

So yes, I understand Karen. (In my opinion at least.)

What makes her who she is is that savior complex of hers, that MORAL code of her own. How she sees herself and what she thinks is her PURPOSE is how she justifies her mistakes, or the risks she takes, to herself. As means to an end.

She doesn't seem to doubt herself or question herself enough to see that her behavior, even if her goal is noble, is not always right.

Her believing that she acts as a savior to others is precisely what makes her a little self-centered.

And, because Matt has this problem too sometimes, she is an interesting character to compare to him.

But now, see, as i've spend a lot of time writing this, my own cogs are turning. I think I've identified what my problem is with Karen.

It's how she's framed. by the writers. by the show.

We see Matt's guilt but don't see hers.

We see his internal turmoil but not hers.

We see him doubt himself all the time and seek for answers in his faith or in people but not her.

If we got to see Karen doubt herself more, show more of her guilt over her killing Wesley, her causing the death of Urich, that would make for a much more likeable and relateable character.

When she argues with Matt or something, what she says makes it seems "hypocritical" of her not to hold herself to the same moral standards than she does others.

But I don't think seeing the flaws in others means you don't see your own. Again, if we had seen Karen questioning and doubting herself, and feeling guilty for what she's done (and not just crying or having ONE nightmare about it. Her trauma should have been more explored in general. from the beginning.) then we'd see that she is self-aware and recognizes her own mistakes and her continuing to feed into her savior complex is her way of finding closure. or trying to save herself from being completely consumed by her own guilt.

So yes. I don't like Karen, not because I don't like her, but be..cause...I wish... we'd seen more of her? or at least framed her differently?

I didn't think I'd reach that conclusion. I thought I'd actually find a real reason not to like HER.

But that's maïeutique for you i guess. or to put it differently, rubber-ducking, right? Isn't that programming lingo?

Also maybe i'm not completely over how Matt and Karen third-wheeled Foggy. or how Matt doesn't really fit with any of his on-screen love interests and how I wish they hadn't dated. but that's a story for another day.

Thank you for reading this far, if you're still here! Tell me your thoughts and opinions on Karen or my own way of explaining it :)

[i-mybrunettelady]

asks for you from the latest ask game--major arcana 0 and I & two and four of wands for sanne? :) @kerra-and-company

my sunshine daughter... <3

0. The Fool - when you first created your character, what did you originally envision for them?

In all honesty, I don't remember. I was playing around with CC, I'd made a few (blonde, funnily enough) rangers but deleted them all, until I ventured into nornlands with Sanne and never looked back. As such, there's not any OG concept I can precisely pinpoint to, though I will say that her personality is based on canon norn PC characterisation!

I. The Magician - have you followed through on your original vision for your character? Are they as they were when you first began?

As I said, there wasn't an OG vision. But what I can say here is that over time, Sanne gained a lot more edge; once I started getting into ranger more, she became a relaxing character for me to play -> me thinking her vibes were sunshine, chill and zen, but nah. She is still my sunshine baby, but a prideful, powerful, radiant sun.

II. The High Priestess - has your character ever ignored their conscience?

Not really? Sanne's always stayed true to herself. One of the key differences between her and Nyra, for example, is that Nyra will do what she needs to do, and then have regrets later, as she is a highly moral person and holds herself to a high standard; Sanne won't have regrets because she will refuse to do the things that will tarnish her reputation in the eyes of others and herself. That way, there is no chance of regret. I bring Nyra up because if somehow Nyra wasn't in the picture, Sanne would be my Comm! Except that AU will never happen because Nyra yells so damn loud all the time. This also excludes Kosara, who is a straight up alt AU Commander in a verse me and @uselessidiotsquad have!

ー☆* Four of Wands - what was the most recent celebration your character took part in?

Taking the Oni down! My big four + Liv are all in Cantha for those eps between SotO and EoD and lord knows she was celebrating with the Gyala Delve miners and the gang. Bonus points for various moots after the end of Icebrood, because Jormag dying was a personal thing too.

[papulaan]

The end is nigh, she can sense it. Though she had hardly a chance to say or get a good look at the shadowy figure that represents her Elibean acquaintance before they had been pulled from their horse.

The regret does not linger for long, she held little desire for attacking them anyhow. Her eyes land on a different target instead. 

With the precision of a hunter, her eyes lock onto her target and she commands her large flying bird to move with her as she readys her bow. 

“There,” she murmurs before releasing her arrow then another while she has the chance. 

Selkiesheen does not activate! [Roll: 2] Darting Blow activates! Sue 10/10HP hits Fitness Fighter 10/10 with Brave Bow [Roll: 4 + 2 = 6; -2.5HP, Fitness Fighter 7.5/10] Sue 10/10HP hits Fitness Fighter 7.5/10 with Brave Bow [Roll: 15 + 2 = 17; -2.5HP, Fitness Fighter 5/10] Fitness Fighter is unable to counterattack!

The enemy looks for the hit or a way to defend perhaps, but there is no chance of being hit so high up and without a weapon to touch where Father Sky’s hands linger. Sue takes advantage of this and lets loose another couple of arrows until the enemy falls. 

Follow up attack! Sue 10/10HP hits Fitness Fighter 5/10 with Brave Bow [Roll: 13 + 2 = 15; -2.5HP, Fitness Fighter 2.5/10] Sue 10/10HP hits Fitness Fighter 2.5/10 with Brave Bow [Roll: 18 + 2 = 20; -2.5HP, Fitness Fighter 0/10] Fitness Fighter has been defeated! The Future is no longer protected by Chain Guard!

“She’s down!” Sue calls out to the others and draws her bird closer, but as she does the shadowy figure comes into clearer view. That girl from the ball? With the toned back muscles? It’s not real, she reassures herself, and all it is is training. Besides, they still had two more enemies to fell so she couldn’t lose focus now. 

“That’s one less enemy we have to worry about, but we should still take caution of the other taller one…” He’s been absorbing most of their hits with so much as a chink in the armor or… shadow. 

Her professor steps in with his sights set on one of the remaining targets who is now open without the muscle girl swooping in. Sue nods and waits for his cue before she releases her arrow to pierce their shared target for a minor, but solid hit. 

Sue’s Backup activates! -1HP The Future 9/10HP

Next to her, she hears punches and huffs, the sound of fists clashing with metal or some hard surface as joints and bones crunch. When the dust clears, the truth of what is going on is evident as one of her teammates sustains an injury, yet their enemies are still untouched. 

“...” She is speechless as she looks on at the injury he, one of the academy knights she thinks, has caused to himself. That is… one way to build up endurance and durability, she supposes. 

@partnerindestiny

without the blazing, it's just bullshit - team 11

summer arena 2024, gold round

[itsnotzka]

First Date Data // Duskwood one shot

One-shot // Jake's POV // Fluff(ish).

How could that first date go? And how much could Jake overthink it?

No warnings // 4,3k words.

. . .

Standing alone in front of a large red neon sign, alone, in the shadows, with my eyes locked on the parking lot, I wonder how I got myself into such a preposterous situation.

This is a false statement.

I know precisely well how I got myself into this preposterous situation.

Another false statement.

Is the situation, in fact, preposterous? How can one even assess the preposterousness of a situation? Where is the line that makes something preposterous or not? Can something like this even be done? Of course it can, everything can be done with enough time, data and willpower.

And coffee.

This is something I know almost too well from my own experience. I wish I didn't know that, it would make things much easier. That way I would be convince most of the things I did were impossible, therefore I wouldn't do them.

But every little thing I've done has brought me here. To this place. Right here where I stand. Alone. Alone for now.

Do I regret any of it?

It depends.

What a convenient answer. I can do better than that. This is the worst answer anybody can give. Of course it depends. Everything depends on everything else, there is no denying it. Nothing is simple black and white, things are rarely either 1 or 0.

Rarely, but not never. I do know all about that. So I'm asking myself again, do I regret anything?

Negative.

Because, as ridiculous as it sounds, am about to have a date with a girl. A woman. And this is what makes the situation preposterous.

It's been only a second or two since I looked at that red neon sign. I think fast, I always think fast, but now my mind is working as fast as greased lightning.

This statement is neither false or true. It's nonsensical.

But it doesn't change the fact, that the thoughts in my head are scattered. I never allow that. I simply cannot allow that. It's inefficient. How can you act productively when your mind is wandering?

You cannot. It's a simple answer. That's why you don't do it. Yet here I am.

I am standing in the shadows, just at the edge of the light from a nearby lamp. Red neon makes everything shrouded in a red glow of horror.

There is no such thing.

This is what happens when your mind wanders. Ridiculous thoughts. Inaccurate observations. No logic. True nightmare.

This is when I decide that's the end of that thread of thought.

I did a couple of things before I came here. First one: reconnaissance.

Reconnaissance is the first step of Hacking. It's also the first step of absolutely everything else. Everybody should know this. Sadly, not enough people do.

I came early. I know this restaurant. I suggested it myself. Being on familiar terrain, you are less likely to step on a mine. Knowing the area, you know what to expect. What to avoid and where to run, if necessary.

She doesn't know it. She's never been here. I have the advantage. Except, we're not enemies. It would be a little easier if we were. I know how to throw my enemy off guard. How to confuse them. I know how to beat them.

It won't work here.

We're not enemies, yet it seems we're not entirely on the same side. Things can go wrong. For me. For her. 'For me' option is much more probable.

The second thing I though about: introductions.

Should I bring her something? Should I wait inside or outside? Should I eat something before, or should I go there actually hungry?

This was the first time when I thought: Google it.

I am not a man with great experience when it comes to real dates. I don't do dates. I don't just simply go to places like this one. I am, however, a man with a great ambition.

I tried to solve this conundrum logically. I weighed the pros and cons of every single eventuality.

I ended up not Googling it. My answer: bring nothing, wait outside, don't be hungry. Did it make me feel better?

Not enough data to answer this question.

It's five past zero hour.

A thought runs through my head. Another preposterous thought runs through my head. She is not coming, she was never coming. It was all a sham.

I can simply check where she is. Should I do that? The answer to that one is simple, I shouldn't do that. I should never do that. It's unethical. It's wrong. I should never do that. Period.

I sometimes do that.

A car approaches. It's a cab. For a minute or two nothing happens. I'm on standby.

Then I see her. She gets out of the car, smiles at the driver, waves goodbye.

He's a lucky guy - I think - he's already done it all. Met her. Talked with her. Made her smile.

This man is irrelevant, he shouldn't bother me. I'm trying to erase him from my memory.

I think about her again. Her hair gleams in the yellow lamplight as she looks around. Her black dress flutters slightly in the evening breeze. Her dark jacket is too light for today's weather, but she doesn't seem to care.

I'm taking a step forward. I'm coming out of the shadows. Now the same lamp illuminates me as it illuminates her.

She turns once more and then sees me. Her eyes rest on me and for a moment the expression on her face is absolutely blank.

It's blank. What's the meaning of this?

It doesn't mean anything.

Am I not looking good? Of course I'm not looking good – she's wearing an elegant dress and I'm wearing a hoodie. I didn't sleep last night. My hair is never right.

Is she disappointed? Am not what she expected?

It doesn't mean anything!

Her rosy lips twists slowly in a tender smile, her eyes seems to sparkle with something I'm simply unable to decode.

I'm not moving. I should move, but I'm not.

She is the one who comes closer, her heels clicking steadily against the hard ground, each click like a countdown.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

C o n t a c t .

She is not saying anything, she just looks at me, that gentle smile never leaves her face.

"Hello," I say my well-rehearsed line, "It's nice to see you."

The corners of her mouth turn up even more, a quiet laugh leaves her throat. I'm not sure if I'm under or overanalyzing this.

"It is more than nice to finally see you, Jake," she says, her voice like this crispy, evening breeze, "How are you?"

How am I?

How-am-I?

There could be many answers to this very, very simple question. Suddenly it's not even a matter of 'how', but 'if am I even here'.

It's surreal and I feel out of place. It started like an innocent dream and now it's slowly turning into a nightmare. I can see the red glow of horror on her face, the neon sign is still there, it's still taunting me.

She tilts her head when I don't give her an answer for a few seconds.

"I'm good" At this point I have no idea if this statement is true or false. "I hope you are as well."

The neon sign blinks as she laughs, this sound surrounds me like a cocoon, her hair are glistening again, goosebumps disappear from her skin, her cheeks are flushed. So are mine.

"You're just as I've imagined you would be!" she says, she shakes her head, she giggles, she bites her rosy bottom lip.

She holds out her hand to me, she presses her lips together, trying not to smile. I don't mind her smiling.

I shake her hand. She squeezes it tightly. Her touch is warm, it's spine-tingling. I'm suddenly very grateful she decided a simple handshake would be enough.

This is not my first encounter with a woman. I try to remind myself.

This is my first encounter with this woman.

I'd be lying if I said I don't know much about her. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't trying to find out even more. Too much. I'd be lying if I said that since she met me, some of her preferences have changed. I'd be lying if I said it didn't work somewhat in my favor.

She's known for a long time I could always find out more.

Ding, ding, ding! I figured it out. It was her plan all along. She wrapped me around her finger. I mindlessly fell into her well-designed trap. I like it as much as I hate it. I never fall for any kind of traps.

"Will you accompany me inside?" I ask. I rehearsed it as well.

She doesn't answer.

Correction.

She doesn't say anything, but nods eagerly. Her hair falls over her shoulders and her face like a waterfall. Golden waterfall of shining waters.

Fine.

The next thing I Googled. I admit it.

All the old-fashioned male-female customs seem to annoy everyone, especially nowadays. And yet, during a date, everyone expects you to know all of that. It's almost a paradox.

Pay for her. Don't pay for her. Open the door. Don't do it. Help her sit. Don't even go near her.

Which rules are acceptable and which should be rejected altogether? It was absolutely beyond my cognitive abilities.

The Internet is full of information, and if you put your mind to it, you can find whatever answer you want.

I was able to find the right one. I am ready to open the door. I am ready to go inside first. I am ready to hold the door open for her and let her inside. I am ready to talk to the waiter.

When we start walking, she does something unexpected. My whole elaborate plan goes to hell. She takes my hand, she rushes to the door, I am forced to follow her blindly. She opens the door and runs inside, then she lets go of my hand.

My mind froze as soon as her hand touched mine. I went unresponsive. My body moved on its own.

With her help.

Laughing, she looks around the restaurant. It's not too fancy. It's not too lousy. It is perfectly balanced, as all the things should be.

Then it hits me. I'm no gentleman. She's no lady. Not in that way, anyway. I'm simply a man with his eyes locked on a woman of his dreams.

We don't need to follow those rules. She doesn't want us to follow those rules and she's just showed me that. We are far beyond that phase. It is our first date and we're far beyond that phase.

I recover when the waiter asks her if we have a reservation. Then he looks at me questioningly. There is still a gentle smile hiding at the corners of her mouth. It never leaves her face.

I take it from here. We have a reservation. I made sure we had a reservation. I was checking as often as possible if our reservation wasn't, in fact, cancelled or changed at any point.

It goes smoothly from here. As far as I understand the meaning of the word 'smoothly', that is.

We follow the waiter. She looks at the table. It's near the window, at the far corner of the room. Secluded, but in a good way. It's the best table in the whole restaurant. I know that. She notices that. She glances at me as her brows raise a little.

Is she impressed?

Again, not enough data to answer this question.

We sit opposite each other. The table is small, our knees are almost touching. She looks at me when the waiter hands us the menus. She still looks at me when she opens hers. I look at her when I place mine on the table, still closed.

An unbroken silence falls between us. Somehow it's not uncomfortable at all.

How is that possible?

He puts the menu down for a moment. She starts taking off her jacket.

Is it warm in here? Should I rush to help her? Is it an invitation to touch her?

This wasn't planned. Why exactly haven't I planned that?

Before I can do anything, the jacket is off, she hangs it on the chair. The lacy sleeves of her dress end in the middle of her forearm. Her scalloped neckline is not too low, it's not too high.

It's enough for my imagination.

A quiet, small, uncontrolled, almost unnoticeable sigh is leaving my throat.

She notices it. Damn it, she notices it. She is perceptive. She's more perceptive than she wants me to know.

I know.

"I like your dress." I say, there is no point denying it "It looks good on you."

She's not embarrassed. She knows how she looks in it. Still, she lowers her head, she gives me a lopsided smile as she tosses her hair back.

She likes the compliment.

"Thank you. I was hoping you would."

How could I not?

Silence.

She nibbles on her bottom lip, as she looks at the menu again. I don't look at the menu. I don't have to look at the menu. I'm looking at her.

I've seen her many times before. I saw her pictures. She's sitting so close to me now and I can't help but wonder how beautiful she is. It's like I'm seeing her for the very first time.

I am seeing her for the very first time.

"What do you recommend? I assume you know this place." she says, she smiles, she glances at the menu, then back at me.

A spark. There is a spark in her eye. This is not a simple question. She doesn't want recommendation. She wants me to amuse her. I want to see how much I've planned this. She knows I planned this.

Yes, I planned every single second of this date. Yes, the decision tree for that evening is almost infinite. Almost, yet I know it all. And yes, the food is the least important part of our meeting.

"I like number four, number fifteen, sometimes eleven. For you, however, I recommend number seventeen. Number twenty-two to drink. You're going to like it."

Curious, she looks at the menu. She finds the numbers. One after another. She nods. She hums. Her whole face lit up.

"Not bad! Let's make it interesting though. I'll order it if you let me pick your meal."

A counteroffer. I expected nothing less from someone like her.

It's a game. We're playing another game and I'm not sure if I know all the rules.Then again, I've already established she doesn't want us to follow rules. So how can I play this game?

I'm resting my elbows on the table, I can't stop looking at her, but she's not bothered by it. It's like she wants me to look. This is the first time when I smile.

"I accept your offer," I answer briefly.

She giggles. She sets her menu aside. She rests her elbows on the table, she leans closer to me, her arms folded together. I notice a little mischief deep in her eyes.

She's mimicking me. It's yet another game.

I raise my head. She raises her head. I chuckle. She chuckles. She places her open hand in the middle of the table. Before I am able to touch her, the waiter comes back to us.

I order for her. She orders for me. I don't even register what he says to the waiter. It's a tunnel vision. I see her, nothing else.

We're alone again. As alone as we can be in a restaurant.

"Care for some small talk?" she asks.

"Always. Although I'm not good with topics." I admit, but she knows it well "I'd appreciate it if you'd start."

She likes the idea. This is what she wanted. She thinks for a moment or two. She puts her index finger to her chin as she looks up. Then she smirks. She puts her palms on the table and stares at me intensely.

"How long would you last in a zombie apocalypse?" her question throws me off. Her questions always throw me off.

I laugh. I laugh out loud.

She's wearing an elegant dress, I'm quite sure her make-up is thoughtfully matched to her outfit. She is a truly graceful woman and she's sitting across me, asking me about a zombie apocalypse.

Can it get more perfect than that? There's a part of me that wants to say 'yes', but I know it's not true. I don't think anyone could be more perfect than her right now. Than her in general.

It's a hypothetical question. There is no way to test this, yet I'm somehow certain of my answer.

"I'd survive. Long. To the very end, I'd say."

She nods her head slowly, she seems impressed by my answer, but I'm not sure if she believes me.

"How about you?"

"I am pretty sure I'd be dead on the day one." she giggles "I'd be good at being a zombie, though! You'd have to be careful, I would gladly eat your brain out!"

She makes me laugh again. I laugh louder. She laughs with me. I casually put my hand across the table, very near hers.

"If that really was the case, I'd definitely let you bite me." I say before thinking.

It's a purely theoretical scenario, yet I am sure this statement would be true.

She hums surprised, her eyes are wide. Her fingers touch my arm. It's a gentle lazy stroke, but I can feel them intensely through the sleeve of my hoodie. A shiver runs through my whole body to stop low on my back. She fixes her hair, she shifts a little. That small, innocent movement makes her knee touch mine.

Interesting fact:

If something touches your knee, you always feel it. You can't touch something with your knee and not realize it. This is how human body works.

It was intentional. Or maybe it wasn't intentional, but she likes the outcome. I try to follow every single game we're playing, but it's getting harder. It's getting out of control. I don't have that kind of attention span. Not while she's touching me.

Focus.

"Your turn." She says, an innocent look in her eyes, as if she didn't disturb my personal space at all.

I'm trying thinking straight. It's almost impossible while she's touching me. I am totally lost, my decision tree is long forgotten. I frown.

"I'm not sure I can top your question." I finally say.

"You don't have to. I like your questions."

Her hand moved, now she's stroking my hand with her fingertips.

"What's your strategy whilst playing hide-and-seek?"

I think fast. This question pops up in my mind. It wasn't planned. It was based on her question, it's not as good, though.

Her eyes widen even more, she bursts out laughing, her fingers tighten on my hand and now she's practically holding it. My heart's racing, my mouth's all dry.

Focus!

"Oh? I didn't know there is more than one strategy!"

I take a risk. It's not really a risk. I do realize that. After all, we are here together. She wanted to come here. She touched me first.

All in all, I take a risk. I wrap my other hand around her hand. She's trapped now. She's trapped between my hands.

Her touch is like an inductive charger. It's just a touch, but I feel it with every inch of my body. Our hands together. Our knees together. We, together.

Preposterous. Horrifying. There is no escape now. For me as well as for her.

"There's always more than one strategy for everything. You should always have more than one strategy in mind, whatever you do." I answer.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot who I am talking to!" she chuckles, her head tilted, she looks at our intertwined hands with a soft smile "Tell me about those hide-and-seek strategies, so I can tell you which one is mine."

Well. There are many, many hide-and-seek strategies. This is, after all, my favorite game of all. As long as I'm the one who's hiding.

She looks at me curiously as I spread her hand on the table.

"The basic one. You choose a place and you hide. You don't leave until someone finds you."

I touch the middle of her hand, I draw a small circle with my thumb. Then with my other hand I close her fingers on mine.

She laughs softly. She likes my way of explaining.

"And there is my strategy of choice." I continue as I spread her hand again "You keep your eye on the seeker, you move as they move. That way they can look for you forever. As long as you're careful, of course."

I gently run my fingers up and down her arm, I draw lines, I draw patters. I brush the hem of the sleeve of her dress. I'm not sure if my analogy is clear.

It doesn't matter.

There is this strange satisfaction in my chest as I see her face studying my every single move, her eyes curious as the goosebumps appear on her arm, she bites her rosy bottom lip again.

I got myself back together. I'm in control. My mind works properly again. My logical thinking ability is back. All I needed was a proper stimulation. My decision tree is useless now, I'm improvising.

"I'm afraid I'm the basic one, then." She says, disappointment mixed with amusement in her voice.

There is nothing basic about her.

"There's nothing basic about you."

She blinks as she glances at me.

Is it a good thing I speak before thinking now? Of course not, it's never good. One should never speak without carefully thinking about every single word.

Yet here I am. Again.

We are forced to take our hands off the tabletop. The waiter brings our order, we wait patiently for him to leave. I take a sip of my beer. She smells her jasmine tea. She tries her jasmine tea. She's delighted with her jasmine tea. I am delighted with her delight in her jasmine tea.

I chose it.

We eat. We try to eat. We mostly talk. I listen to her carefully. She listens to me carefully. There are some more stimulating questions. Some stories.

Our knees don't disconnect even for a moment. I laugh at her jokes. She laughs at the things I say. I have a feeling not all of them are funny enough to be the cause of her laughter, but she does that anyway.

The waiter wants us to order desserts, and we haven't even finished our dinner. We don't have time to finish our dinner. As I said before, the food is the least important part of our meeting.

Time passes quickly. We don't even notice it.

It passes too quickly.

The evening is gone in the twinkling of an eye. How is that possible?

Not egough data, although I have a theory.

When she goes to the bathroom, I take care of the bill. We are the last to leave the restaurant. The staff turns off the light behind us.

Now we're standing in this small parking lot, almost like before.

Much closer.

The neon sigh blinks. It's taunting me again. She puts her hand on my chest for a second and a half. My heart stops.

"Thank you for inviting me here. It was a very pleasant evening." she says, she looks down, I'm not sure what it means.

"It truly was." I admit.

This statement is so-damn-true.

"Should I order a cab for you?" I ask.

She raises her head, her eyes are saying something, but she remains silent. She takes a small step towards me, she doesn't take her eyes of mine. Her cheeks flushed from the crispy night air. I can't move.

"No." she answers me, her voice quiet, yet it's all I can hear "You should order a cab for us."

The meaning of those words hits me like an wrecking ball. My mind splatters all over the parking lot.

My hand moves on its own. I sink my fingers into her golden waterfall of shining waters. She hums quietly. She tilts her head as my hand go through her hair, to the back of her head.

I hesitate.

One second passes.

Two seconds.

I close the distance. I touch her lips with mine. I can taste a hint of her jasmine tea still on them. This gentle touch makes me shiver.

I want to pull her closer.

I don't have to pull her closer.

She clings to me like a second skin as I put my other hand low on her back. For three more seconds her soft lips are just stroking mine. We're both investigating. It's a reconnaissance. It's a first step. Everything about her is soft. Her hair is soft. Her skin is soft. Her lips are soft. Even her breath is soft.

How can it all be so soft?

Not enough data.

I can feel her smile as her fingers slowly pulls the string of my hoodie.

Then it explodes. I thought my mind was already splattered, but when I she kisses me deep, my mind is entirely gone. It is like it was never even here. There is no logic in this. There is no truth, no false. There is no strategy. There's absolutely nothing in my mind, except one single thought.

False statement.

This is not a single thought. It's a cluster of thoughts, images and feelings. Zombies. Hide-and-seek. Jasmine tea.

No logic.

How can her lips feel so good on mine? Her softness surrounds me. Consumes me. Her whole body curves into mine when we lose ourselves in this moment. She sighs softly when we finally break apart. Her rosy lips are almost red now. Her eyes wide like oceans.

She's not letting me go. I'm not letting her go.

"Am I correct in assuming you like coffee?" she asks. She smiles again.

"Yes. That's a very correct assumption." I manage to answer.

"I make a truly delicious mocha. Maybe you'd like to try it?"

Affirmative. Affirmative. Affirmative.

I nod.

"So get that damn cab for us." She laughs. She brushes my lips with hers again .

I pull away just enough to take my phone out of my pocket and order that damn cab for us.

We're getting into that damn cab.

There's no logic in this preposterous situation. I've never been so pleased with the lack of logic in something.

She's making me mocha in the morning the next day.

[bangtanfancamp]

Champagne Silk | KNJ

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⋅summary: Almost year ago, you became the arranged bride of the most powerful man in the city, Kim Namjoon, but this morning, with you, he’s just a man who’s head over heels for you who can’t help getting lost thinking about his future with you.

Alternatively: no matter how powerful a man Namjoon is, he is still a klutz in the kitchen. A sexy klutz though.

⋅ author’s masterlist

⋅part two of the Silk series ( read part 1 here)

⋅also the second installment of breakfast with bangtan series (masterlist here)

⋅pairing: mafia!namjoon x reader

⋅genre: mafia! au, arranged marriage! Au, smut, fluff, angst, established relationship

⋅word count: 15.5k words

⋅rating: mature

⋅warnings: a generous amount of consensual sexual activities 🙃, brief scene of oral sex, impregnation kink, a shared bath tub, multiple instances of christiana being uncomfortable with using proper technical names for genitalia and being intentionally ambiguous instead. (honestly it’s more tame and wholesome than you think but god, if these two aren’t hot for each other )

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“Damn it.” 

The sound comes rumpled from the other side of the kitchen, like someone’s trying to keep it hidden. It’s so subdued and muttered that around anyone else, it might have been successfully hidden. But not right now. And certainly not with you. Because you know the distinct, adorable huff of your husband’s regret in an instant.

“You all right over there, darling?” There’s an innocence in your voice to hide your humor.

“Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” 

“Oh, unfortunately I can do no such thing, my love. You’ll just have to brave the odds and tell me.” 

Your smile is benevolent, but unyielding. You politely, pleasantly even, refuse to give him another option, and he knows it. It’s that simple. Even with his back to you, he knows the jig is up. As he hunches with heavy shoulders, he sighs and mutters something too low for you to pick up at first.

“Once more for the people in the back, yeah?” You tease.

“I said, I spilled wine on everything,” he exhales. 

His voice is tinged in shades of caramel, rich with resignation, as he confesses, stepping aside so you can see the mess he’s made. 

“Oh, Joon.” 

A terribly bright fondness pulls your lips into a smile as your clumsy giant sheepishly ducks his head across the room. His once pristine white shirt, his linen pants and your white antique tablecloth are all freshly dip dyed in swirls of Pinot Grigio and rosé.

“I know. I know. You don’t have to say it.” His eyes flit down to the stack of too many wine glasses slotted between his large fingers that have spilled their bounty across every available fabric surface.

“You have no idea what I’m about to say,” you point out graciously.

Crossing the room, you tip up on your toes to press a tender kiss to the spots where his jolly dimples would show if he weren’t so flustered. 

“MmmHmm. Sure I don’t.” He squints at you while you slip one glass at a time out of his grip and reach for a cloth.

“Precisely. You shouldn’t assume, Namjoon. You know what they say.” You smirk, wetting the cloth with water you know will be too frigid for him to stand in this half asleep state he’s in, but the stains have got to go.

“And what exactly do they say?” His large palms dip to rest on his hips as he braces for your commentary.

“Simply that assumptions only make an ass out of you and me so…”

His nose scrunches in distaste, even as he starts to laugh. “What a beastly phrase. I forget how much delicacy Americans have.” 

“Oh heaps of it. More than they know what to do with, really.” You shrug as you wring out the cloth. “Positively genteel. Is that not why you chose to marry one?” You add with a wry smile.

Glancing down at the bands on your finger, you warm at the way they glisten in the bits of lazy Sunday light filtering through the window. Namjoon’s glints golden across the room as he waits for your rescue. Both still new enough to feel like a novelty. Enough to make a small light inside you beam with pride whenever you catch sight of it.

“I chose to marry the only one I could find who was quick enough to get the stains I make out before they set and sweet enough not to give me grief for it.” He arches an eyebrow down at you in challenge as you slip one hand past the deeply undone row of buttons on his shirt to pull the fabric up and away from his skin as you begin to gently blot at the wine.

“Oh no. Well, I hate to inform you of this, but unfortunately, I’m actually 0 for 2 in those qualifications. But I will sincerely try my best since you’ve placed so much trust in me.” You chuckle as you set to work. “Would it be helpful if I mention what a smart wife you have to have ixnayed buying that cabernet sauvignon you wanted so badly, especially given your current predicament?”

Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dipping to press his nose against your own while shaking his head. 

“No. Not in the slightest.”

“See? That’s good to know. Would have been awful if I mentioned the Merlot I put back too then. Can you imagine? Could have been so unseamly.”

He laughs, smiling against your hairline. “Well, what would have been the point of whisking my bride all the way out to a little villa in wine country and inviting guests only to not serve them red wine?”

“The point would have been you not turning into the kool-aid man whenever said wine inevitably spilled all over you. Case in point.” You look up at him through wide, fluttered lashes as you press the icy cold cloth against a particularly bold splatter on his chest. The frigid water grazes his nipple through his thin shirt and your giant of a man winces like he was wounded on the playground.

“Hey, that’s freezing.” He moves to swat your hand away. 

“Would you rather just take this off then? So I can work properly,” You smirk.

“No,” he sighs. “That would just be colder.” 

He looks so adorable right now. The lavender locks you’d once loved so well have been replaced, faded into a dusty blonde instead. His thick hair, usually coiffed so neatly, so perfectly, is currently disheveled entirely. Bits that had been gently curated to frame his face the night before are now plastered to his forehead, others shooting off at odd angles, all from falling asleep on the couch beside you once your dinner guests finally left late last night. 

He’s still in last night's now stained and rumpled clothes, still looking absolutely divine with the sleeves cuffed against his elegant forearms and his now wide open neckline thanks to the buttons undone all the way down past his rib cage.

His body is every bit a grown man, but his sleepy features- those wide eyes and pouted lips- make him look every bit the little boy you saw once in his mothers photo albums the week of the wedding. Big Namjoon still makes the same faces when he makes a mess as little Namjoon, and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Don’t be such a weenie,” you tease. 

“Careful who you tease, woman. You’re the only one in this city who forgets how many people are afraid of me.”

“This city is half a day’s drive away. There’s no one to fear you here,Joonie. Besides, your enemies have clearly never seen how quickly you’d fall in a battle against the cold or else you would have been displaced ages ago,” you tease with a twinkle in your eyes as he narrows his at you.

“I don’t think you’d like ice water on your breasts first thing in the morning either.” He huffs under his breath.

“You never know til you try,” you wink.

“Would you like to try?” His eyes rake over you salaciously despite the tenderness in his smile. 

“No, I can’t say that I do,” you chuckle, pushing a palm against his chest. “Besides, it’s hardly first thing in the morning, Joon. It’s almost noon.” You nod toward the clock.

There’s still sleep in his voice when he laughs, the sounds rich and resonant where it blooms from his chest. “Well, it’s still morning for me when we didn’t fall asleep til well after 3 because our guests don’t know when to leave.”

You smile to yourself at the memory of time spent with your friends. Well, more accurately Namjoon’s friends, i.e. the members of his crew who have become like family to both of you. Namjoon’s been on the move so much with work lately that there’s been no time to simply sit and enjoy their company. You were in raptures when he suggested they join you for dinner last night.

“It was so good to see Hoseok and Jungkookie though. Their new girlfriends seem so sweet.” 

Namjoon’s gaze seems far off somewhere as he listens to you.“They do, don’t they? JK’s seemed spunky too. She’s good for him.” 

“I think so too. He spent half the night blushing- he was so happy. It was good to see him so over the moon for once, that little romantic.”

Namjoon smiles, a soft thing nestled in the pocket of his cheek, full of fondness for the youngest of his friends. “Yeah, I’m glad he finally found someone so good for him.” 

Pulling you in, he kisses you gently, once, twice before pressing his lips to the top of your forehead, an unspoken “as good as you are for me” hidden his warm brown eyes.

“Big softie,” you whisper, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb brushing over his cheeks. He tips his face toward your palm to plant a kiss there too, his lips just brushing the inside of your wedding band as you smile.

“For you? Always.”

“For me? It was the food last night. God, That charcuterie board Jin brought was positively masterful.” The memory alone has your mouth watering. “Such a shame it was all gone so soon though.”

“Ooo, speaking of,” Namjoon slips out of your grip to rustle around in the kitchen behind you. “Not quite.” 

“What did you do?” You narrow your eyes at him as you settle into a wooden chair to start tending to the swirling stains on the tablecloth.

“Oh, the best thing. Husband of the year level best thing.”

“Husband of the year? Can't wait to see this then. Very moderate expectations, indeed.”

With his back to you, you can’t see what he’s up to, but you can certainly hear it. Especially the low grunt when his hip snags on the new island counter. This poor man was clearly made for a different life than this old world kitchen provides. You wonder which will go first, your husband or the architectural detail. You chuckle to yourself until you realize exactly what it is he’s carrying.

“Kim Namjoon, is that-?”

“A mini stolen charcuterie board? You bet it is,” he winks your way, and a storm of winged things flutter in your stomach.

“How did you even-“

“When you had everyone gathered in the backyard, and Jimin tripped over the cord for the string lights.”

“I’ll never know how such a graceful man can cause such disasters. Or how you managed to befriend the only other man on earth as poised and clumsy as you all at once,” you chuckle, stealing a fig from the corner of the board as he peels back the plastic film covering it. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”

“Mmm Hmm. I knew you thought so,” he taps you on the nose lovingly. “You always ask Jin to make these for you, and then you’re always so sad when all twelve people you invite make it vanish in half an hour.”

“I know. I know. It would go farther if there were fewer people to share it with, but Joon, the boys are like family. I haven’t seen them all together in so long. I couldn’t bear to leave anyone out.”

There’s a twinkle glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. He’s glad to see how soft your heart somehow remains despite the life you both lead. 

“Which is precisely why I took the liberty of stashing some of this bounty away while the guests were busy and saving it for you.” 

When he smiles at you like that, all softened edges and warm brown eyes, it’s impossible not to fall in love with him all over again. It’s not like you’ve forgotten how kind he is or how striking he can be when he smiles. It’s simply that the more you see it, the more in love you become.

Rising up in your chair, you reach across the table to tenderly cradle his cheek.

“I hate to say this, because then you’ll know you were right, but this is really is an excellent submission for husband of the year. I would like to point out, though, that you are welcome to make as many entries as you’d like before the panel comes to a consensus, you know.” 

He smiles so wide that his eyes get lost in their beautifully crinkled edges. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, they do say that you should play toward the judge’s preferences. Would you happen to know any? To help me get that inside edge.”

“Now, now. I can’t help you cheat. You’ll have to conduct your own research.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. We have a strict moral code. They’d ruin me if I let that sort of intel slip.” You tilt your chin up in defiance despite your smirk and laughing eyes.

“Hmm. We can’t have that, can we? Shame. I really thought this was going to be my year.”

“Do you really think the only way you’d win is to cheat? Come now...it can still be your year if you play your cards right.”

Your hand drifts up to his carelessly perfect hair, fingers gliding through it and tugging a bit near his scalp. One of his favorite ways to receive affection you’ve found out this past year. His lids fall heavy before he can catch them, a small hiss catching behind his teeth that means you’ve done it right.

“Careful. You don’t know what you might be starting.” His eyes wander the edges of your lips, trace the frame of your collarbone.

“I’d never take the risk if I wasn’t ready to face the consequences.” The twist of your lips is subtle, as gentle as the seduction you’ve learned is your forte. 

Namjoon licks his lips, the lower one snagging in his teeth as his eyes drift over you. Without breaking his gaze, he takes a champagne grape from the board and lifts it to your lips. You can feel your pulse flutter and quicken beneath your skin. It always does when he eyes you like that.

The man might as well be a snake charmer for all the control you feel like you have over yourself right now as your mouth parts of its own accord for him. But just before the fruit can graze your lips, his grin widens- wicked with delight- as he decides to pop it in his own mouth instead.

His dimples are so deep as he laughs at your flustered state that you wish you could crawl inside them and hide.

“Ha Ha. Very funny, Joon. Tease the woman you claim to love. Excellent way to keep a happy wife.” 

Rolling your eyes, you push off from the table, fully intent on doing... you have no idea what, exactly. All you know is that you need to get away from this table as fast as you can before you knock the carefully preserved remnants of this charcuterie board to the floor and take him on the table.

 The blush that was rushing to your cheeks is now crashing in your ears and all you can think to do is “go,” but before you can get even half a step too far, Namjoon’s warm, impossibly large hand is already wrapping itself around your wrist and grounding you to your spot.

“All I want is a happy wife,” he laughs. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I thought I made that pretty clear from the first day.”

Slowly, he stands as his hand trails its way down to dance across your palm before lacing your fingers with his. 

“Certainly doesn’t feel like it right now,” you pout, despite the excitement thrumming in your veins. You know that look on his face now. The one that’s evil and beautiful, sincere and serpentine. The one that wants to devour you playfully. To love you even as he ruins you.

“Oh no,” he tsks. “That won’t do.” 

Suddenly, he snaps you to him, his hands fastening themselves to the dip in your waist. You gasp, the force making you brace against his smooth, exposed chest to catch yourself.

“It won’t?” Your voice comes out airy, too thin, as the morning breeze billows through the open windows. 

“No. Not at all. So I wanna know: how can I fix this, baby?” His eyes are possessed by something wicked as one hand leaves your waist to trace a thumb over your parted mouth.

“I- I”

“Shh, I made this mistake. I’ll make it right.” He arches a single brow as his tongue wets his lips, and your brain loses any grip on rational thinking.

“And h-how do you plan to do that?” It’s a whisper- too breathy, too barely coherent. His hands are so warm. His touch is like lightning and suddenly even breathing requires too much energy with the way you feel like you’ve shorted out.

“I don’t know. You tell me, baby.” His knuckle tips it’s way under your chin, tilting your face up to his as you follow in obedience.

“But… I thought… I told you. The judge can’t help.” You swallow, lashes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your lips.

“Then she can’t get what she wants,” he challenges.

“Fair enough. That’s fair.” Your head bobbles in assent. 

“So I’ll try this again,” his face dips down until his mouth rests just below your ear. “What do you want, baby?”

You feel lightheaded as you melt in hands, rushing out the words, “Counter. Now. Please.”

 Your expression folds in on itself in satisfaction when Namjoon grips you around the waist and plants you on the kitchen island without a moment's hesitation. You gasp, airy and quick, before his palm is fitted against the curve of your throat with just the amount of pressure he’s learned that you like.

“Good girl. Open your legs for me, baby.”

A muffled inhale later, your knees have parted where you’re sat on the island and Namjoon is fitted between them, his hips to the counter as he kisses you in earnest. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp as his tongue and open mouth work their way down your throat, painting wide open blossoms of scarlet and blush along the way. Your hands are in his hair, at his scalp, tugging and grabbing to bring him back to your kiss. His taste is tinged salty and sweet from your skin and the grapes, and your thighs wrap themselves tight around the narrow slope of him.

He’s gotten so broad since the wedding day. If you had trouble composing yourself around him then god only knows how you’ve survived the past year. His shoulders seem wider, his arms more substantial, his chest impossibly inviting as you claw at the last remaining buttons of his dress shirt. 

“Off. Off. Take this off.” You push at the sleeves that bunch around the arcs of his newly swollen biceps, taking a moment to drink in how beautiful they are as you clutch at his golden skin. 

“So eager now. What happened to my shy girl?” His voice is teasing, light, but his eyes look proud of you.

“You did things like this to her, and now she can’t get enough.” Your mouth fits itself to the beautiful stretch of bare skin beneath his ear, suckling the indescribable taste of him before traveling down his throat and across his jaw.

He laughs, something deep and melodic, before his fingers begin to glide over your collarbone and dance over your arms, featherlight, like he always does when he’s trying to rile you up.

“Should I get this out of our way then?” His fingers tug at the slim straps of your champagne blush dress. You’d worn it especially for him at last night’s party. You’d never forgotten his affinity for your skin draped in silk.

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do, baby. It’s perfect.”

“Then why do you want me to take it off?”

 Your voice is sticky sweet with innocence, but Namjoon knows better. He doesn’t know where you got the wherewithal to tease him right now as he holds you pressed against his growing warmth, but when your eyes flick to his, he knows you’ve made the right choice. He likes it when you challenge him. It makes it more fun when he wins.

“So I can do this,” he grins with a flash of his teeth.

Without missing a beat, he’s slipped both straps clean off your shoulders, leaving the dress to pool around your hips, and scoops one of your soft breasts gently into his mouth. Your breath comes sharp, a stuttered, inhaled moan that tastes as sweet to him as the ripened figs on the tray. Deliciously priceless. 

He still can’t get over you. He doesn’t think he ever could. He’s never reached a point where the sounds you make fail to set his world ablaze. He’d like nothing more than to make drawing them out of you every morning just like this his sole profession.

Reverently, his other hand brushes up your side to cradle your other breast beside it. God, they’re so soft. Namjoon is almost ashamed to admit how infatuated he is with your breasts.  It would be embarrassing if you weren’t equally in love with receiving all the attention he gives them.

What can he say? He’s a simple man. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to him and for him? They’re perfect. Even with all the exploration the two of you have shared this past year, he knows this part of your body has got to be his favorite- your skin there is so velvet smooth and supple, so delicately sensitive, so perfectly sized for him to devour to his heart's content.

As his tongue warms the tender skin of your nipple with affection, and his thumb steadily plays with the other, he feels the muscled grip of your thighs tighten against him. The sounds you make for him as you clutch at the edge of the granite might as well be a symphony. He loves you like this. Wild and coming undone at his touch and attention. No one in the world but you and him.

“J-joon, baby.. I-“

Looking up at you through heavy eyes, entirely impressed with himself, he smiles and flicks his tongue against you again. When the jolt makes you jump, he stands to his full height above you, and sets his hands back on your sides.

“What is it, baby? You have to tell me.”

Your brows crumple in softly as you look up at him through your lashes. If you could speak, you would, but the way he plays you like an instrument with no effort at all always seems to dispose of your grace.

“But Namjoon…”  you’re trying and failing to catch your breath as both his thumbs come to lazily torment the soft swells of your chest. 

“You know what you like. You know what you want. Just tell me.”

You’ve barely got enough breath to function as it is, let alone to form a sentence. “But baby, I can’t…”

“Then I’m afraid you can’t have it.” He tuts. “Not if you can’t ask.” 

His grin is wicked, and as much you want to drown in it, something in you wants to wipe it off his pretty face.

“Not… fair…”

He runs his tongue over his teeth as he smiles.

“Really? Because to me, what’s not fair,” he grips your hips, snatching you forward that last little inch to sit snug against his hips, “is me giving you a prize you haven’t earned.”

His hands dip to cup the curve of your backside,

his fingers digging deep into the silk and softness he finds there as he continues.

“ What’s not fair is the way you teased me in this little dress last night when you knew there would be too many people around for me to enjoy it properly…”

Dipping down, his sumptuous lips brush your ear as he whispers, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What seeing you in this dress all night did to me?”  

As yet another lightheaded gasp leaves your lips, a dark, satisfied chuckle leaves his. 

“H-how would I know?” your air comes in shaky as he has his way with you

“You know, baby girl. You always know.”

 As his fingers dip firmly into the globes of your backside, he begins gently, just barely, rocking against you. No hurry. No fuss. Just maddening, slow pressure as he grazes you. When an airy moan comes whimpering from your lips, his strong hands tense, keeping your hips too fixed to succumb to moving with him.

“But you didn’t... say anything.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his face lowers toward yours. You can feel the brush of his lips ghosting over the edges of your cheek, his nose tracing against your skin.

“Don’t act like you couldn’t tell. You know silk always does me in.”

His fingers slip across your stomach where your dress has pooled to rest. They ghost like a whisper over your hips and down your legs until they reach the hem of your skirt. He fits his hands against your skin and drags them up achingly slowly, willing his touch to memorize the feel of your skin along the way as he pushes the fabric up inch by merciless inch- all while never stopping the insatiable way his lips move warm against yours.

His touch and his kiss are languid, unhurried, as he sets you on fire. When he reaches your thighs, his palms splay across them, his thumbs dragging along the inner swell of your legs as your vision begins to blur. 

He’s taking his time. He’s teasing you and enjoying it. It’s evident in the way he slows down the higher he gets. The way his mouth begins to travel down your throat in kisses so soft, so divinely sweet, that you swear you’re growing lightheaded from the swelling rush of pleasure.

His thumbs have made their way to the folds of your hips, his hands hidden beneath the fabric as your body lights up electric at his touch. Like if it shines bright enough for him, he might bless it with all that you know he is capable of. But even though he knows you’re more than willing, your tease doesnt satiate your body or her cravings for him just yet.

Instead, he slows down further. He fits his hands on the outer edges of your hip while his kisses turn gentle, calming, resolving, as if he has no intention of following through further after riling you up like this.

“What are you— why are you stopping?” Your eyes flit between his, a subtle , whining irritation building up beside your impatience when he doesn’t move. He’s quiet at first, in no rush to answer. As his beautiful face hovers over you, he's so smug you almost want to slap him for toying with you like this. 

But that won’t get you what you want. What you need. So Instead, you take one of his hands and press it to your breast as you guide the other toward the center of you.

He plays along at first, until his fingers are about to brush the part of you that’s positively tingling for his touch, and he abruptly pulls back, resting both of his hands on the countertop on either side of you.

“Ah, ah. That’s for when you use your words, my sweet.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, and suddenly, you’ve never been more greedy or more furious. 

Snatching at his waistband, you pull his hips forward and slip your hand over the linen to hold him. His breath catches at the back of his throat, and his eyes go wide, dumbfounded at the shift in power.

“And I said, the judge can’t tell you the answers.”

You level him with a look of quiet confidence as your fingers slip between his skin and the linen to hold him where he wants you most. His brows tip into softened u’s as the coolness of your touch brushes against him.

“Husband of the year should know what I want by now. I shouldn't have to tell him.”

You grasp him, fingers running delicately up the underside of him at the same time that you lick into his mouth. You feel him dip a bit as his knees buckle, making his hands on the counter the only thing holding him up.

“Mother of god,” he mumbles, even as his hips move in compliance with your touch. “Where did you learn that?”

“From the best,” you beam. Your smile is genuine, sweet and blindingly bright. It makes him want to take a bite out of the apples of your cheek, so he does. A playful nip that has you giggling and him pressing his lips together in fondness. 

The moment is sweet, until you catch his eyes with that same saccharine smile on your face, and take your hand away. His mouth opens, about to protest, until he watches you run your tongue in a long, slow stripe up your fingers before reaching back down behind his waistband to run the wet digits over his heated skin as you grasp him.

“Oh my… fuuuuck,” he exhales, his weight dropping to press into the counter. His face dips to lean against yours as he struggles to stay lucid. This feels so good, so out of nowhere, that his body is bursting to life more rapidly that he can keep up with. 

With every movement you make, he moves with you, gasping through his open mouth with every touch as he tries to keep his composure. Leaning into your forehead, he feels his nose bumping against yours as he searches for air. He feels nearly lightheaded but god, you’re incredible. Your touch feels so good- he never wants you to stop. 

Still, he wants control back though. To make you as much of a mewling mess as you’re currently making of him. He was enjoying the game you were both playing before, but he likes the feeling of winning more. However, just when he thinks he’s got a way to get the upper hand back, you ever so lightly twist your grip as you pump him, and suddenly, he can’t tell if he’s dying, ascending or blacking out. 

It feels so good so fast that he can barely remember his own name, let alone stage a coup. Your fingertips gently play with the tip of him at the top of each swell in your fluid flourish, and suddenly he can’t think of anything else to do with all this bursting excess inside of him but to kiss you. So he does. Open mouthed. Sloppy. Full of want. It feels so incredible that you can’t help but laugh brightly into his mouth, ethereally elegant, even as you wreck him. 

As you work, he can feel the way he’s growing harder with your attention, the way his blood feels like it’s singing the longer you touch him. His hips are obeying you like they belong to you, and at this point, he’s pretty sure they do. His mouth is painting your throat, adding swathes of crimson to the blooms he made before until your neck is colored with an entire bouquet of his affection. 

When he closes his eyes, the light behind them sparkles with effervescence as he listens to the quickness of your breath as you work. The sounds, the moans, the gasps you make as you touch him mingle with sounds of early morning nature and Namjoon wonders if this was what the poets meant when they described paradise. 

Pleasure is cresting over him in warm, molten waves now, and as it builds, he realizes he was wrong.

That as much as he loves your luminous eyes, your serene smile, the softness of your breasts, that those aren’t truly his favorite part of you if he’s honest. At least not right now. Not in moments like these. Because right now, with your hand wrapped around him, wrecking him with craving, that title is held by the treasure between your thighs; and as the blood rushes away from the rest of his body and swells where your hand lies, all he can think of, all he wants, is to bury himself in the wet, velvet warmth of you and never leave.

If he doesn’t get you naked with him inside you within the next three seconds, he thinks he might die.

So he does something about it.

“Open, baby. Open your legs for me,” he demands. It’s firm, commanding, but his eyes are so full of needy want that it’s hard to say who’s really in charge right now. 

Pushing your hand away and placing it on his chest, Namjoon kicks down his linen trousers and slides up your dress as you obey. He springs out, the length of him pressing into the meat of your thigh. It has you whimpering before you can catch yourself.

“God, I knew you were a smart boy. You’d figure it out eventually,” your voice is teasing, but your face is so dizzy, so desperate for him, that he could give you the whole world if you asked.

“You ready for me, baby?” His eyes are half blown with lust, his lashes hanging heavy as he runs his fingers over your opening, before collapsing against your shoulder. “ Oh my god.”

“What is it, Joon?”

“Nothing. I just,” he chuckles once, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how wet you get for me.”

With no hesitation, he slips two fingers inside you as your belly contracts. Gasping his name, you can’t help but cling to him as light shoots through your body at the incredibly welcome feeling of his hands there.

“Nam- Namjoon, ah!” Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you can feel your nails dig into his sturdy flesh as he begins rocking you with a motion so good, so fluid you fear you may simply float away and never touch the ground again.

“Yes, baby? What is it?” 

“You. I want you. Please.”

“You have me, baby.” His teeth are gritted in focus as he works you, his brow dipped low as he watches how easily you come undone with his attention. Warmth gushes over his fingers as he feels your walls contract in tandem with the tug of your hands in his hair. The sting is sharp and sublime as you grasp him tight with every part of you.

“Inside. Come inside. Need you. Now,” you plead. Your other hand trickles down his torso to the soft hair above his member before holding him firmly with a twist of your hand. He moans, hips canting into your delicate palm.

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice. Slipping his fingers out of the way, he scoops you safely to the edge of the island, one large hand stroking himself and guiding him to line up with your eager entrance.

The essence of you coats the tip of him without any effort, your body unfolding, so relaxed for him, as he easily begins to slip inside you. It’s so abundant that the slide is effortless, helping him bottom out almost immediately within you. Your head falls back in wonder as he does, your hands quickly planting against the cold counter to catch you. 

Wow. God, Namjoon’s body always has a tendency to overwhelm you, no matter how many times you get caught up in each other like this. You still can’t get over that. Honestly, it would be impossible to when he’s built like he is. 

He’s broad everywhere- that’s obvious to anyone. But here, he’s long and thick, with thighs like tree trunks powering each movement as he glides inside you. Any other time, you might have needed his help to adjust, for him to take his time to warm you up, but this morning? Your body is ready for him, and he knows it. 

It’s unfolding itself for him like a bloom to the sun, and he’s reverent enough to return its worship. You’re so wet that he can feel it trickling down his hip as he pistons into you, and he regrets not dipping down to sample a taste of it before coming inside. But now that he’s here, there’s absolutely no way he’s leaving the warmth of your walls until you're both falling over and spent.

Your ankles are crossed behind him, pulling him as close as you can get him, and his face is pressed against your neck and collarbone as both your hips work in dizzy tandem. The sensation of it sends his consciousness swirling as the pressure in his abdomen builds.

He’s convinced now that you’re a real, actual goddess. There’s no way you could make him feel this divine if you weren’t. Your ambrosia coats his thickness, spilling over him as he thrusts harder, deeper, tilting his hips to curve against that spot inside you that—

“Oh! God! Joon,” you yelp. “Yes, don’t stop.”

His grin is infectious. You can feel it against your skin as you pull him tighter, rocking in time with him as your euphoria builds. Your laugh is bright, sparkling as he licks his fingers and slips them swirling over the sensitive burst between your legs. Your breath catches, his name and profanity tumbling from your lips in equal measure.

You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Your senses are on overload, your vision darkening around the edges as the pleasure he paints across your body escalates rapidly. Somewhere far off, you can hear his voice. His mouth is near your ear, his breath cooling your skin that’s become sticky with sweat, but you can’t understand, can’t wrap your brain around what he’s saying…

Until you realize that even fully coherent, you’d still be lost because your forever intoxicating husband has slipped back into his native tongue. You love it when this happens. With his senses so thoroughly drowning in you,  translating language just becomes too hard a thing to manage, so the harder and deeper he goes, the lower the bass in his voice becomes as he mumbles in korean against your ear.

You’ve learned enough to catch words like “beautiful” “perfect” and “God, I love you,” but the rest remain a mystery as he captures the innermost parts of your body for himself with swift, perfect strokes of his hips. The depth he’s reaching right now has you in raptures. It has your breath coming in short gasps as your breasts bounce buoyantly with each...incredible… thrust he delivers.

You won’t last much longer. You know it. And All you can think right now is how badly you want to look in his eyes when you come- which you know will happen any second now.

  Between his touch, his voice, the indescribable way he moves his hips when he’s inside you, and the crescendo you feel from the spot he’s internally caressing right now, you know you’re only moments away from dissolving into the atmosphere, yet all you want is more of him.

“Joon, baby, I’m so close. Look at me. Please,” you move one of the hands supporting you to hold his face and bring it to yours.

God, that please of yours. It flows so naturally from your lips when he has his way with you. He doesn’t know how to describe what it unleashes in him, but he knows it never fails to wreck him. “Shh, let go, baby girl. I’m right here. I got you.” 

Before he can think, he’s kissing you deeply, his tongue insatiable as he tastes you. He alternates between kissing you and pulling back to catch your eyes. The depth of affection in his gaze warms you brilliantly from the inside even as you swear you can practically feel his thrust against the underside of your lungs. 

His once seamless rhythm has become all feel and nuance. All order is long lost as he makes his last powerful dives into the depths of you. You can feel it- the tightness in his body, the firm set in his jaw, the profound depth of his voice as he praises your body in Korean. If you were to die like this, caught up in Namjoon’s impeccably loving, gracious body, you wouldn’t have a single regret.

There’s nothing more you could ask for. 

The glittering sensation pulsing through your body let’s you know it’s almost time to surrender, and you’re ready to come undone. Surely, there could be nothing more blissful than this— until Namjoon takes the hand he’s kept gripped around your waist and slips it up to your throat.

Your eyes go wide. 

He really was paying attention. Husband of the year, indeed. 

And just like that, the express trip to ecstasy nearly slams into your body. His eyes are locked on yours. He’s muttering a soft “good girl” and “that’s it, baby” as he works his powerful hips into you. He has one hand clamped firm and perfect below your jaw along your throat, and the other dancing elegantly along the bundle of nerves between your legs. He takes those fingers into his mouth to wet them, his face crumpling in a satisfied moan at the taste of you on his skin, before slipping them back where they belong. 

It’s altogether too much and you are lit up sparkling as the combined sensation of it all builds with the warmth of his body against you, within you. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says it clear and firm, his touch generous to help ease you over the edge. 

“Only if you come with me,” you breathe. Your eyes meet his as you try to find something to hold on to as the tension in you crests. 

He smiles then. All dimples and sweet eyes and perfect lips. He places a sweet kiss on your cheek beside your lips, and that’s all it takes to ruin you.

You feel your body contract around him in bliss as his name spills from your mouth. Making love to Namjoon has never felt commonplace, but there’s something about today. About him. About the sweetness of this morning in the middle of your perfect hidden home with him that makes you burst not only with pleasure, but with love. 

As your orgasm washes over you, you feel illuminated from within like the sun is glowing out of your skin as your body melts against him.

“I love you,” you whisper. “You’re so perfect.”

As your body floats back down from wherever you just astral projected from bliss, you can feel that his body is just a breath away from tipping over the edge itself. He’s pulling back, pulling out, intending to spill himself elsewhere, but in that instant, you realize you don’t want that.

Your memory flashes back to your wedding day. To the moment those hideous people decided to squawk about your child-rearing, heir-producing duty just hours after your vows, and Namjoon had cut them off immediately at the jump and whispered,” don’t pay them any mind. That happens when you’re ready. Not a second before,” soft against your ear. 

It was one of the first instances that made you realize what a good man he was. How willing he was to put your readiness, your comfort, before anyone or anything else. And now, as you take him in, as you remember how truly and deeply you love him, you realize you’re ready for there to be more.

You’ve had countless discussions with him about starting a family, and everytime, without missing a beat, his answer has always been, “whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.” 

You've come to learn over this past year that he’s wanted nothing more than to become a dad since he was a small boy.

You’ve gotten to witness how fun, gentle and gracious he is with his nephews. With Jimin’s daughter, his sweet godchild. For a year, you’ve watched him be good and kind to any child he meets, patient with you, subdued as he hides the depth of his desire to be a father behind his dimpled smiles and suave redirection when you bring it up. 

He’s been willing to wait for you. He never pushes. He never demands. And in this moment, as you study the face of the incredible man who’s welcomed you into his heart and his home, all you want is to begin the journey to give him what you know he will never ask for, even though it’s what the secret parts of his heart want the most. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper,” don’t. It’s okay. You can finish inside me.” You caress his face lovingly as his eyes go wide. 

“Really? But baby… I… what…” Your eternally eloquent man has gone slack jawed in his loss for words as his hips begin to still.

“It’s okay,” you nod. “I want you to. I want to feel you.” You kiss the dip of his dimple.

“Are you sure? i-“ he stumbles before you lovingly cut him off.

“I think it’s about time we start trying for our family, don’t you?” You whisper. Your fingers thread through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes as his face beams with light. His shoulders and chest are shaking with laughter as his eyes flit between yours and he smiles.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” His hands slip up to cradle your face, the most beautiful mixture of excitement and relief and the purest joy making his misty eyes look brilliant in the early light.

“Absolutely,” your voice is soft as you tip your nose against his. Your smile is all pearls and laughter as you reach to grab the full apples of his ass and push him into you.

He’s laughing and smiling and gasping when you do, before happily resuming the final few thrusts he would need to send himself over the edge.

“Use me, baby,” you whisper, eyes alight with the gentle seduction that always ruins him. “I want to feel you when you finish.”

Biting his lip, he swallows and nods, almost too eager, but you’re beautiful and warm and you’ve gotten so tight around him and he can’t help himself. He’s close. He’s already soo close. He’s spent nearly this whole morning trying to contain himself inside you despite the absolutely mind numbing feel of you, and here you are telling him to let go? It’s impossible that you’re real.

Pulling his face to you, he realizes you’re kissing him. Your honey sweet tongue has made a home in his mouth. Your soft breasts brush his chest with every thrust. Your hands are clutching his back and in his hair. Your heels pressed into the back of his legs to pull him close, and now he knows you want to carry his baby.

To allow your body to grow and change just to hold his seed, start his family and realize his dream of not only being a husband to you but a dad to your babies. He’s so in love with you. So maddeningly, ridiculously, stupidly, over the moon in love with you, and all at once, it’s happening.

His release is coming, strong and quick, and he can finally drown in the feeling of it happening while you surround him. His body is reeling at the burst of perfection he feels from losing himself in you like this. The cloud like swells of your thighs pressing around him might very well be the only thing holding him up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I love you.” His face is buried in your neck, your chest, your hair, your cheeks- everything all at once- his full lips dropping kisses on your skin like stars falling from heaven. 

When he pulls back to look at you, he can’t even put what he’s feeling into words. But it’s okay. Because you know. He can see it in your eyes.

Cradling his face, you smile up at him, eyes glossy and happy. “You ready?” 

“To have a baby with you?” His voice falters as his smile grows so wide his eyes nearly disappear. “There isn’t anything I want more.”

Pressing his forehead to yours as he hugs your waist, you both press your noses together and laugh. Overcome with something almost too sweet to simply be called happiness. The word seems too small to encompass it all.

“Maybe I’m not husband of the year yet, cause I definitely didn’t see that coming.” He chuckles.

“Oh shut up. I know you felt how you made me finish. You’re just showing off at this point.”

“I can’t have my baby girl leave anyway but satisfied with me.” He winks, and you smack his chest lightly.

“I’d be mad at you for being so smug if you weren’t actually as great as you think you are,” you scrunch your nose at him as he laughs.

“Well, if there are any areas of improvement I can work on, let me know. I hear I'm about to have a lot of time to workshop your suggestions.” Namjoon lovingly nips at your collarbone, and you tingle in bliss at the thought of how many more moments like this lie in your near future.

“Duly noted. On that note then, I feel compelled to point out that what you just did counted as an excellent submission for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” He licks his lips slowly as you nod.

“Remember- you can make as many entries as you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Limitless,” you assent. 

“Good to know. I’ll keep it mind,” he smirks, dipping down to lift the fullness of one of your breasts into his hand as he gently kisses the top of the swell of flesh. You sigh into his kiss. This is going to be a spectacular journey— you can already tell.

“Namjoon.”

“Hmm?” His eyes perk up, though his mouth never leaves its preoccupation with your bare chest.

“Is this… is this okay? I hope I didn’t spring this on you too soon or… I don’t know...too out of the blue? Because your comfort is important too, and I—“

You’re swiftly cut off by the sweet press of Namjoon’s delicious lips against yours. “Shh. Yes, I want this. More than anything.”

“So my timing wasn’t—“

“No. It was perfect. You’re perfect,” he kisses the tip of your nose as your lips bloom into a smile. “And if we are going to try to fill that cute belly of yours with a baby, then maybe… maybe this shouldn’t just be a weekend visit.”

Tipping your head to look at him, you feel your brows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this has always been our getaway spot. A place to stay safe and lie low when things get jumpy in the city. A place to take you when we want to be alone. Truly be alone. But if…” he hesitates, lacing your hand with his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If you’re going to be carrying my baby, I want to keep you safe. I promised you that the day I met you- I’d never let anything happen to you. It’s been risky enough to have you in the city all this time as it is.”

“So...what exactly are you suggesting, love?” You run your thumb lovingly over his knuckles.

“I’m proposing if you do get pregnant, we move you out here. Permanently. Or at least somewhat long term.”

“Wait…” you pull away, eyes clouding as you do. “Alone? Without you?”

“No. No. I didn’t word that right. I’d be here as much as i can, and I’d send the security detail to stay out here whenever I have to leave so—“

“Namjoon, I don’t want to be all the way out here by myself. Surely, that’s not necessary.”

He frowns as he tries to gather his thoughts. “This is coming out wrong...You wouldn’t be fully by yourself. I’d be here as much as I can. I just... want you protected. Safe. And out of the city while you're carrying something so precious.” The backs of his knuckles graze your stomach. 

“But I don’t understand. Why—“

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” His voice has turned solemn, his eyes an odd shade of vulnerability when they meet yours. 

“Joon, nobody’s gonna do anything. You’ve made that city so secure-nobody could hurt me even if they tried.”

Something stormy and troubled clouds his eyes.It makes you wonder if there are things he hasn’t told you. Things he’s kept to himself to ensure that your life is as peaceful as possible. You wonder what kind of darkness he’s had to swallow for your sake. 

“But they have tried.”

It's news to you. 

“What do you mean… when?” 

“It’s happened a few times. Nothing ever got far enough to warrant bringing it up.”

“What on earth? Joon, why in the world wouldn’t you tell me that?” 

He sighs once, from some deep place in his bones. ���Because i never wanted to have to see the look in your eyes that I do right now.”

Suddenly, any anger you held vanishes all at once. 

“Baby, why are you carrying something like that all by yourself?”

“So you don’t have to. I promised I’d keep you safe, and I meant it. That includes taking care of your peace of mind. Something you won’t have if you knew how many times someone’s shot off at the mouth about coming for you because they’re irate at me or how many times someone has done more than just talked and actually tried.”

It’s a sobering thought.

“Is that… is that the real reason why you never pushed for an heir?” For reasons you can’t explain, the idea makes you want to cry. Namjoon sees the shift immediately, his fingers ready to brush your tears before they even fall.

“Shhh, hey. No. I mean, it’s part of it. You know all I’ve ever wanted was to be a parent. When I married you, please know the idea of you being the mother of my children sent me over the moon, but I know this world. How people take what they want. Do what they want. I wanted better for you.” He runs his fingers soft over your cheek like you’re some spun glass artifact he needs to protect. 

“I wanted to be better for you than the men in this world were going to give you. I promised myself that I was never going to demand anything from you. That’s why I didn’t push for an heir. I meant it when I said we go at your pace. Always.”

Sniffling, you look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Joon, protecting me doesn’t mean you hide the truth from me.”

“Not even if it would hurt you? Scare you?”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to marry you. It’s so kind of you to try to take these burdens so I don’t have to, but then who carries them for you? That’s my job. You have to let me do it.”

Closing his eyes, he exhales long and slow through his nose. 

“You really mean it, don’t you? You really want to know.”

“Yes,” you nod, caressing his face. He looks troubled. You’d give anything to help take some of his cares away.

“Then you should know why we came to the villa this weekend.”

“So it wasn’t just for a getaway?” You brace yourself for whatever it is you’re about to hear.

“It is, and it isn’t. I guess I have to go back a bit for this to make any sense, but my family isn’t from here. You know that. Our roots don’t go back as many generations as yours do, so when the new kid on the block started gaining power in this city faster than anyone had seen before, there were a lot of families that weren’t happy about it.

Especially not when the daughter of one of the oldest families in the city became my bride. There had already been a lot of grumbling against me before I made such a powerful ally, and there were certainly plenty after. Anything we’d stumbled on over the last few months had been mostly hearsay, but…”

“What is it, Joon?” You're worried now. You can hear the way his voice sounds choked.

“There was a deal that went wrong a few weeks back. Just a skirmish with some lower level captains that got out of control, but I thought I’d put a pin in it. Turns out the other family involved hadn’t let it go like I thought …” he stops, eyes going cold as color drains from his face.

“Baby, it’s okay. You can tell me,” you reassure. 

Closing his eyes, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, his voice lower, raspier when he continues. “There was a hit put out on you this past week.

You’re shocked. “There— what?”

”It’s okay now. Jungkook caught intel on it soon enough that he crushed it before the people responsible could hurt you, but I've never seen anyone get this close. Y/n, I couldn't breathe when he told me. When I found out, I nearly lost my mind. I called you immediately to make sure you were safe— I couldn’t breathe til I heard your voice.”

You had no idea he’d been through that. You can’t imagine what you would have done if the roles were reversed, if you’d been seconds away from losing him. It would’ve shattered you. You’re not sure how he’s still standing.

“Once I knew you were okay, the first thing I could think was that I needed to get you out of town as fast as I possibly could. Something’s building in that city, y/n. The lower families are tired of their rank. They’re itching to get back any sort of power they can- it’s making them reckless. There’s rumors of a war building…I’d dismissed it so far. Didn’t think they were a real threat until they had the nerve to try something like this. We squashed it, but this was too close, and I’m not willing to risk you.”

Realization dawns across your face. “That’s why we left with less than an hour's notice. I’d thought you were just being romantic about a weekend getaway but ...That’s why we came to this safe house and not the one on the edge of town, isn’t it?”

His eyes fall away as he nods, “That’s why our security detail was thicker than usual.”

“But I've hardly seen anyone.”

“That’s on purpose. I didn’t want to scare you.  Didn't want to draw attention to a whole parade leaving town so I had them follow us at a distance. They’re stationed all around the property and schooled to stay out of sight.”

“What about the boys? Was it safe to have them here this weekend with their wives? Their girlfriends? Didn’t we put them in danger?” Your rounded eyes betray the sudden guilt you feel for what you thought had been such a beautiful night.

“Shh, no. Hey, they’re fine. I had them all moved out to safe houses not too far from here with a security detail on them too. They’re just a few miles from here. That’s why I didn’t feel bad about them driving out last night- they didn’t have to go all the way back to the city, just to our guest houses and then their safe houses in the morning….I’m having them all lie low for a little while. Figured they’d want their girlfriends and wives as close to their side as I want mine. Thought having them over was a good distraction for a night.”

You had no idea. Something cold runs up your spine at the thought that this weekend, this beautifully perfect day could’ve been so different. Or perhaps not even happened at all. 

Slipping your dress back into place, you cover yourself. It feels wrong to have this conversation half naked. Namjoon seems to sense it too as he pulls his pants back on. He offers to help ease you down from the counter, picking you up and placing you gently on the whitewashed floorboards, making sure you’re steady before he lets you go. 

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh at how he has to make you sure you’re stable enough not to keel over where you stand after blessing you with an orgasm so bright it makes your soul radiate around your body. Now though, you find your hand cradling your lower belly, feeling entirely naive for thinking now was the time to bless the world with Namjoon’s child. You should say something, but the words get stuck in your throat…. you feel like a fool.

“I’m gonna make us some coffee, yeah? You want a cup?” Namjoon offers softly. When you look up, he looks so worn out all of a sudden. Like he’s somehow aged years during the course of this conversation. Like he really does need a cup of coffee, if not something stronger.

“Sure, baby. I’ll take one.”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to your forehead before he plugs in the black gooseneck kettle you’d gotten him for his birthday. The gift had been simple, thoughtful, and if he was honest, it was the best present anyone had ever given him.

He practically survives on black coffee most days. At the beginning of your marriage, he was always long gone before you rose most mornings, so in an attempt to slow him down and have more time with him, you’d gotten him a pour over set and a gooseneck kettle to replace his old instant apparatus.

He wondered if you were aware of all the additional gifts it had given him along the way....It required time to steep and brew. Time he’d never given himself before he met you. The methodology of it soothed him, provided his mornings with a small structure and routine he’d never had in a lifestyle marked by so much chaos. 

Taking the time to make his absolutely necessary coffee this way helped wake him up gently, slowed him down enough for you to have the time to slip out of bed and catch him before he was gone, to hold him while he prepared it. To remind him of the precious reason he needed to be careful while he was out that day. 

As the water boils, he turns his back to you. He feels himself melt when your arms wind around him. Softly, you press a kiss between his shoulder blades before your touch slips away as quietly as it appeared. The subtle sounds of your footsteps fading as you walk away and the gentle buzzing of the kettle are all that fill the room in the silence between you.

Namjoon sighs as he turns, his arms crossed as he leans against the counter to watch you.  Without a word, you silently procure a hearty loaf of fresh,crusty bread from the pantry and begin to slice it for breakfast. As your head tips down in concentration, he watches your untamed hair fall in your eyes. It’s beautiful the way it frames your face. It makes something squeeze in the center of his chest.

Crossing the room, he comes to stand beside you, lightly brushing your hair back into place for you with his hand. You still in your task, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, baby?” 

“If it’s this dangerous…” your voice is barely above a whisper, “this unsafe… does that mean we shouldn’t have a baby?” When you look up at him, your eyes are starlit with tears. Your hands are trembling, and he hates to see you so sad.

“No. You’re ready, and I want a family,”’he soothes.

“But… but if there’s this much risk, how can our child ever have a normal life? Won’t we always be afraid for them all the time? Is that selfish? To make a life that has to live in this world just because we want them to?”

He brushes his fingers over the cascade of teardrops starting to fall from your eyes. “All parents have to worry about that, y/n. This world is still a scary place even outside my line of work.”

“I know. But they don’t have to worry about a hit on their child’s life or a ransom or generation’s old grudges putting their child at risk....They just have to worry about whether or not a child in their daughter’s class has a peanut allergy because little ashley will only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches right now and nothing else.”

You’re talking with your hands as Namjoon gives you a smile that’s equally warm and sad. “That’s a really specific scenario.”

“I went through a phase in first grade, okay?”

He finds your eyes until you laugh before pulling you in tight against his chest. “First of all, that’s adorable. We’ll address that again later because little y/n sounds incredibly cute. And secondly,” he sighs,” you grew up in this world- the same as me- and we both survived. Having a child is expected of us, yes, but if that’s not what you want... it doesn’t have to happen. But, if we both want one… if being a mom will make you happy, then I’m going to find a way to give you that.” There’s a heaviness about him right now. An authority resigned to accept whatever fate weighs on your heart the most as he watches your eyes fill with questions.

“But won’t we be afraid for them all the time? I feel so naive for only thinking of how much I’d like to meet them, how much I’d love them just because they’re a part of you, when I should have known better.”

“That’s not naive. That’s beautiful. No matter what they’re like, we’ll love them. Because they’re ours.”

“What if they don’t want any part of this world? They should have a choice… but can I even give them one or will their only option be serving as the new head of the Kim family one day?” Your face looks stricken. “Did you get to choose?” Your watery eyes flit up to his. 

He swallows, face stony as you survey him. “I did what I had to do so our life can look however we want it to,” he’s sighing again, worn out out by memories you may never see. “Look, you’re my wife, and I’m your husband. As far as I’m concerned, we’re the ones get to decide what’s right for us, y/n. I’ve told you that, and I meant it- that extends to our children too. Their lives don’t have to look like what anyone else wants but them. I don’t care if they want to be painters or accountants or captains in the family. They get to shape the life they want. That’s what I’ve worked so hard for.”

You feel your eyes flutter shut in relief on their own accord. Of course he’s already thought this through to this degree. When has your Namjoon ever done anything less? It soothes your mind to know he’s taken the time to lay the groundwork so you don’t have to. Still though, questions you’re ashamed didn't occur to you sooner rattle through your head and spill from your mouth.

“Do they have to spend their life in boarding school like I did? Are our only options to send them away or be scared for them every day?

“Y/n, no. We’ll find what works for our family. I want that with you- figuring that out and watching them grow. I’ll keep you both safe. However I have to. I promise you.” His thumb brushes over your ring as he holds your hand against his chest. “I promised you.”

And just like that, it hits you all over again- how much you love this man. How deeply you trust him with every fiber of your being. How you couldn’t have found a better man to love you if you’d tried. You two are it for each other- you’ve known it since the day you met him on the steps.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles,”... but, y/n?”

Your eyes flit up to meet his. “Yes, love ?���

“I meant what I said. If this is all too much, if this scares you, we can wait.” His brown eyes are so deep and sincere. You know every part of him means it, and it’s precisely because of that, that you say the words you do.

“No. I want this. All of this. With you. We’ll figure this out,” you nod, gently pulling the back of his neck down so your foreheads are touching. “I want to have a baby with you. I’m all in, if you are.”

You can feel the rush of tension that leaves his body. He wraps you in his arms, so close and secure, and something innocent comes from him that you don’t think you’ve ever heard.

“God, you know I am. Thank you.”

His voice is as robust and full as always, but his eyes… there’s something so young and soft and terrified in them. Like the weight of all he’s been carrying alone has crashed down on him all at once. “I’m so excited to have a baby with you if it happens. And it’s okay if it doesn’t. But I can’t wait to try.”

You’re nodding and crying, and you realize something that perhaps has never dawned on you before. This is the first time you’ve seen him truly this vulnerable. He’s always so strong, so composed. Too busy holding up an entire empire and caring for you to let his walls fully fall. 

But as he buries his face in your neck, you suddenly feel dampness pooling against your skin and realize he’s crying. You wonder how you got here on a morning that had been so serene and full of bliss. Bliss you now realize has come at a price.

“I was so scared I'd lost you the day we came here.” Slipping your hand into his hair, the other soothes his back as he clings to you tighter. “I'm so glad you’re okay. You’re so smart. I know you are. You don’t make reckless mistakes when you’re out— you take good care of yourself— but I was so afraid. My heart dropped when Jungkook told me what he’d heard. He couldn’t calm me down until I heard your voice on the phone.”

Stroking his hair, you recall the phone call just a few days ago. How strangled and out of breath he’d sounded. How you’d asked if he was okay, and he’d simply said he was now.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay.” 

He takes a moment to collect himself, pressing you so close you may fuse together. It’s unguarded, and precious. Something you know both of you treasure as he nuzzles into your skin in that space along your neck where his face perfectly fits.

It’s as simple as that. You both stay like this for as long as you can, secure in his embrace, your breathing settling until it’s nearly in sync. It’s peaceful for you, cathartic for him. It’s a moment framed by a different kind of intimacy than the one you both shared in this very room less than an hour ago. 

He shows no sign of letting you go until the kettle begins to howl for him from across the room. When he does, his fingers trace the silk fabric along your waist as his lips kiss your forehead. He takes one more heavy breath before he squeezes you in release to tend to the coffee.

“Cream and sugar?” He asks, his voice thicker than usual.

“Always,” you answer.

And so the morning resets itself. 

The day shifts into afternoon. The sun drifting higher, brighter, casting the shadows and ridges of Namjoon’s sculpted body in almost Grecian relief as he carefully pours the water for both of you over the coffee grounds. You finish slicing the crackling bread loaf and bring it to the table to place it beside the remnants of Seokjin’s charcuterie board. 

It’s only when you catch sight of your lacy table cloth that you remember the accident that started the whole morning to begin with. You’d both gotten so preoccupied with each other that you never made it any further than cleaning his shirt and not the rest of the disaster.

Smiling to yourself, you gently slide the cloth off the table and fill the sink with cold water to soak it. Looking over at your husband, you realize wine stains still swirl over the front of Namjoon’s linen pants. There’s a very good chance those are fully set now, but just in case, you might as well try to fix them. 

So, gently, you hook a finger into his waistband and tug. “Let me have these.”

“Round two all ready? Greedy girl.” He winks, his voice soft as follows the drip of his Colombian roast.

“No, smart girl. We did a terrible job of getting you cleaned up.” You pop the p at the end of the word as you snap the elastic on his pants.

Looking a bit lost, Namjoon glances down to see the lovely pastel splashes of rosé running clean down the front of his pants. He’d been too busy to notice once you’d gotten him out of them. Blushing for no reason other than the embarrassment of you having to clean up his foibles, Namjoon dips down to remove the trousers, leaving himself looking statuesque and unreasonably gorgeous in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs in the afternoon light as he tends to the coffee.

You feel terribly immature over how quickly affected you are by the sight of him in his current predicament and carefully take the pants from him, only to turn abruptly in search of some fresh air and relief. Namjoon catches your equally flustered state, smiling to himself, but doesn’t acknowledge it out loud. This spell of quiet that’s settled over the room is too peaceful to break.

Once the coffee’s done, he brings both your cups to the broad heirloom table, and you enjoy breakfast… or, he supposes, brunch at this point...together in the stillness. Every bite you take is piled high with prosciutto and fig while Namjoon drizzles honey on his slices of bread. 

It’s peaceful, idyllic. Tranquil enough to forget the world that awaits him back in the city.

It’s funny, the duality of his life. How easy it becomes in moments like these to lean into the simplicity of breakfast with his lover and ignore the undulating danger and uncertainty awaiting him in the rest of his world. It makes him realize how much he’s come to covet exchanges like this when he gets to feel like you’re just two people in love and nothing else. 

As his eyes trace over you, he promises himself to do everything in his power to make sure your life with him is hallmarked by sweet pockets like these. As many of them as he can give you. 

At some point Namjoon pushes up to get the carafe of orange juice from the fridge, and after assigning your more capable hands the job of opening the champagne, you both polish off your brunch with the tinkling clink of your toasting mimosa glasses. 

Once your bellies are full and satiated, Namjoon looks up at you. His elbows are propped up on the table, chin contentedly resting in his hands. There’s a question hidden in the corner of his lips as his eyes glisten with mischief.

“So… what else do you have in mind for your agenda today, my bride?” He reaches across the table to grab your hand, kissing the back of your palm as you giggle and roll your eyes.

“Well if you must know... I'm thinking I might give my sister a call. See if she’d be willing to come pay me visit.” You offer, pushing one of the last grapes around the corner of the board, avoiding the way Namjoon’s eyes shine. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe she could come stay in one of the guest houses. Potentially. Once I move out here. Whenever that may be.” 

“So my baby won’t be alone when I’m gone?” His dimples are popping in his cheeks as his smile spreads wide. It’s a brilliant idea to bring her out here with you until Namjoon can finesse a way to be by your side 24/7. He wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner. Probably because you’re as smart as you are beautiful. 

“Neither of your babies.” You crinkle your nose as you smile back at him. 

“I like the sound of that,” he’s beaming back at you, happy and light. His eyes are misty with emotion he can’t hide, and it only makes you love him more.

“Me too.”

“So, how would you feel about getting to work as soon as possible then?” His eyebrows bounce salaciously your way, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Is that what you want?” 

“If it’s what you want. Always.” Namjoon licks his lips and a crackle of electricity shoots up your spine. The parallels to how this morning started are not lost on you. It makes something in you thrill with excitement.

“Well, I would love to take a bath. Our activity this morning was excellent, but I must say you left a bit of a sticky mess in your wake.” 

“Sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head bashfully.

“So I’m going to break in that beautiful clawfoot tub and fill it to the brim with matcha bubble bath.”

“Mmm. With the orange blossom bath salts too?”

“Always,” you wink as Namjoon bites his lip.

“God, you always smell so good when you use that. It makes your skin so soft.” The thought of your skin fragrant and bare has his blood stirring again as his eyes rake over you.

“Well you are welcome to keep me company and read to me while I soak,” you offer nonchalantly as you walk away. You can feel his eyes on your hips as you round the corner, quickly followed by the sound of his bare feet against the floorboards.

“Or I could join you in the water.”

When he responds, his voice is closer than you expected it to be. He’s caught up to you so quickly with those long legs of his.

“Or you could finish the chapter of the book you were reading to me on the way up. You left me on such a cliffhanger when your hands got distracted on the drive. I’m dying to know what happens next.”

Biting his lip, that wicked gleam is back in his eyes at the memory of the drive up and the things the two of you got up to in the privacy of the tinted, shielded back seat.

“Fair enough, but I get to join after.” His hand is forceful where it slips across your waist. You tumble into him, wanting nothing more than to let him win and start this game all over again, but you had a feeling you were winning this round, and you like to win.

“I can promise you no such thing. We’ll just have to see how the day goes,” you shrug, dismissing him completely to climb the stairs.

As much as he enjoys the view, Namjoon loves the play for dominance more: it’s cute on you. Too bad he’s still got the upper hand. He catches you on the stairwell, turning you around to face him. His hand ghosts down the front of your silk draped stomach directly to the dip between your legs.

 He places enough pressure to catch your sensitivity there, smiling something wicked at the sound of your sharp inhale. He already knows how delicate you are after you’ve already finished once until he warms your body up again. The prospect of starting this dance all over again has him stiffening with delight against your leg when he feels the familiar slip of your essence help the fabric glide beneath his touch.

“Oh baby girl, you have no idea how well this day is gonna go.” His voice has dipped to an octave reserved only for the devil as he smiles at you and lifts you off the stairs and into his arms.

You squeal at the suddenness of it, wrapping your arms securely around his neck so you don’t fall. He just chuckles, something throaty and dark, as he carries you up the stairs and down the hall to the sunlit bathroom. 

Setting you on the counter, he turns to start the bath- scooping in bath salts, pouring your bubbles, raising the blinds so the room is flooded with light. He doesn’t want to miss a single look on your beautiful face when he has his way with you for a second time today.

Not once has it occurred to you to move from the spot where he put you. Instead, you sit perfectly still on the bathroom counter, feeling your nails dig into your palms, your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch him. Your pulse is already thrumming with anticipation all over again. 

When he turns back to you, you can see clear evidence of his arousal reshaping itself beneath his black briefs, and suddenly, despite your meal, there’s something else entirely that you want in your mouth. He catches the hungry way your eyes follow him as he walks back to you.

“Can I help you, baby?” His laugh is warm, even if his eyes are sinister. It’s all you can do just to nod your head and slip your fingers forward to tug at his waistband. When it begins to fall, you slip down to the floor, catching him off guard entirely. Not in a million years did Namjoon didn't plan on this course of events, but he certainly isn't unhappy about it. 

Namjoon leans back against the counter in the spot you’d just been sitting in as your hands grasp onto the muscular ridges of his toned legs. You set to work kissing his golden skin on his thighs slowly, indulgently, enjoying yourself as you go. 

You’ve always been weak in the knees for his absurdly gorgeous legs. They’ve only gotten more toned in the last year just like the rest of him, and between his dimples, his arms, his chest, and his legs, it’s hard to know where to begin. Or it would be if there wasn’t something hard and beautiful staring you in the face.

Namjoon is in heaven watching this unfold from above. When you slip him into your mouth, he feels all his rational thought go dark. He’s helpless to do anything but cave in. God, the two of you are like rabbits, but honestly, how can you not be when you make him feel like this? He begins to lose himself in the soft rhythm you create, something lazy and hypnotic, that makes him feel weightless.

He can barely hold himself, but every second is worth it. All he can do is luxuriate in the way you take your time as you bless him. At least, that’s how he always thinks of it because it’s truly nothing short of divine. 

He can’t tell if it’s been a few minutes or an eternity when all of a sudden, you’re abruptly letting him slip from your mouth with a pop and a sultry smile. The cool air rushing against him nearly startles him in the wake of the warmth he’d been cocooned in while your tongue did its incredible work. Because just as quickly as you started, you’re gone. 

He realizes then that the floor is wet. Apparently, You’d both gotten so lost in each other that the water in the tub had spilled over its edges and he hadn’t even noticed. Also, at some point during all this, you must have slipped out of your dress, because you’re lowering yourself into the water now as bare as you were on your wedding night.

Namjoon swallows. His body is ramping with endorphins, and he’s so worked up it nearly hurts. As he makes his way to the tub, you stop him with a dainty hand against his lower stomach.

“Ah, ah. I asked you to read to me.” 

Your eyes are coquettishly round as you bat them up at him. He’s tempted to scoff.

“Are you serious right now? Aren’t we in the middle of something?” His face is serious, focused as he eyes your breasts floating in the water amidst the matcha- scented bubbles.

You push back against his stomach again. “Yes, we were… in the middle of that last chapter. Book. Please.”

There it is again. The “please” he’s always been so enamored by. The “please” that’s usually the product of your need for him. The one he’s so infatuated with that he’d do anything to satisfy it. The one that, up until now, he’d thought you were unaware of, yet here you are using it against him.

That’s when he knows he’s trained you too well. There’s pride sparkling in your eyes as you look up at him, and he can’t believe it. Running a hand down his face, he shakes his head at you. What has he gotten himself into with you?

“ If that’s the way you want to play it, fine,” he squints at you with playful derision. “But I’m reading to you in the tub with you when I come back.”

“Oh please do,” you coo, batting your lashes at him.

Oh, you’re good. 

Namjoon can’t help but laugh at himself as he walks to the bedroom to collect the book. When he met you a year ago- the blushing, soft spoken girl who was too nervous to meet his eyes- he definitely never would have thought that a year later you’d be sending him down the hallway fully naked and half hard to fetch your literature for you while you float in a bath. He wonders when he got so wrapped around your finger like this, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t mind.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

 Being with you is the best his life has ever been. He’ll forever be grateful, that against all odds, you agreed to marry a man who was nearly a perfect stranger and create a life with him.

As he walks back to the bathroom, Namjoon catches a glimpse of your rosy smile flashing his way, peeking at him beyond the wall of bubbles. It fills his chest with something buoyant and light as he makes his way back to you.

There’s absolutely nowhere he’d rather be.

As he sinks down in the water behind you, more displaces, splashing out across the white wood beams and dousing your hair in the process. He apologizes profusely but instead of getting mad, you simply slip the rest of the way under the water to finish the job. When you resurface, you’re laughing so happily that your smile is the brightest thing in the room, putting even the afternoon sunlight to shame.

He pulls you to him, affection for you glowing warmly in his chest as you settle between his legs and look up at him. He kisses your forehead, his heart filled with contentment, before reaching forward to dry his hands on the closest available towel and thumbing through the book until he finds the page he marked.

The two of you stay that way until the chapter is finished and the book is closed. Until the bubbles all dissolve and the water’s gone cold. Even then, once the water is drained, you still stay wrapped in a tangle of Namjoon’s long limbs as you twist to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

Eventually he straightens out his legs to allow you to climb into his lap so he can find his way home again and slip inside you. Your bodies are swathed in the golden light illuminating the room as the two of you go effortlessly slow and unhurried, taking your time . 

Namjoon sinks into you, lost in the beauty of you and your connection. 

This time, your session together is marked in emotion and security. 

He knows how much you want to start a family with him, and you know how special it was for him to let his walls down, to let you know how scared he was to lose you. Both of you are in awe of not only how attracted you are to each other, but also of the caliber of human you’re currently sharing your bodies with, of how transcendent love making can feel when your hearts and hopes are as interwoven in the act as they now are with all your cards on the table.

When Namjoon finishes this time, it’s in sync with you. It’s the first time that happened for the two of you in tandem. As your eyes search his, you're both aware that this shared state of bliss is nothing short of miraculous. As story-worthy as this act has always been between the two of, this time feels different. Markedly so.

Perhaps, it’s because you’ve both dropped your guards enough to fully let the other in, in a way you hadn’t uncovered before. If the crashing of his heartbeat has anything to say about it, Namjoon would probably guess that you've both sunken so deep into each other that it was impossible for the crescendo of your orgasms  not  to crest all at once for the both of you.

Once you’ve gathered yourself enough to speak, you watch Namjoon with dazed eyes, in awe that someone as incredible as him even exists, let alone that you get to call him yours. As he slips out of you, the warmth of his seed flows out between your thighs, and some ridiculous part of you can’t help but smile.

Namjoon catches it too, and leans forward to kiss you. 

“You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?”

Your eyes flash to meet his. Your body is spent, your emotions are big and at this point, your heart feels so filled to the brim with affection for him that you fear it won’t fit in your body anymore.

“They’re gonna be the luckiest kids in the world to have you for a dad,” you whisper with shining eyes as you touch his chest.

He dips his head, smiling so exorbitantly wide that it consumes his whole face, and all you can think is that you can’t wait to see that dimpled grin shining back at you from the face of a little boy or little girl down the road.

“By the way,” you begin as his gaze perks back up to meet yours. “You should know that we’ve tallied the votes for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” His brows lift attentively. “Should I pack it up? Is it time to let the dream go? Surely it’s not going to a rookie this year.”

“You’d be surprised,” you tip your head. Taking his hands you place them so they’re cradling your chest. “On behalf of the board and the esteemed academy, it is my honor to present the award of husband of the year to you, Kim Namjoon.”

As he throws his head back, he bursts into a bright fit of laughter and mock cheering like you’re both surrounded by a make believe crowd. 

“Oh my goodness,” he squeezes your breasts in his palm like the globes are irreplaceable awards. “I would just like to thank all the people around the world who supported me and believed me, who shined the light of their support on me even on days when this seemed bleak. We couldn’t have made it here without you guys. This award belongs to all of you.”

He waves to the imaginary audience he’s created before pressing your breasts together and happily burying his smiling face between them. He mumbles something you can’t understand that gets lost in the downy softness of your chest as you laugh at him.

“What are you even saying down there?”

“I’m thanking the people who got me here.” He eyes you soberly like that should be obvious before breaking character and cackling at how ridiculous this is. “I can’t believe we really kept this joke going all day.”

“I can’t believe I got in the tub to clean up the mess you left earlier only to now, once again, be sticky with dried up mess.” You look ruefully between your legs.

“Hey, hey, that mess may very well become your child.” He tuts as you grin and narrow your eyes at him. 

“I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“Semantics,” he shrugs, kissing your nose. You can’t help your eye roll that follows. “Hey,” he breathes, eyes suddenly serious.

“Yes, love?” 

“Please know, whatever happens, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always take care of you. Both of you, if we’re so lucky.” The tips of his fingers rest against your lower belly, and yep. You were right. Your heart bursts clean out of your chest. You can feel the way your eyes glisten, happiness spilling from them as you get lost in Namjoon’s smile.

“I know you will, Joon. I know you will.”

-fin.

[lookbluesoup]

2. How did they get together?

12. Who has the most nightmares and how do they deal with them?

--for the ship of your choice!

Thank you for the ask! :D I'll answer for Nahte and G'raha (don't think I've answered any for these two yet :0), and a bit of A'mahl too, since he's important in how G'raha came to be with them!

2. How did they get together?

A'mahl, Nahte, and G'raha really hit things off during the Crystal Tower arc. But while there was a fair amount of flirting, it never progressed past a fond 'almost.'

During their journey to the First, Nahte and Mahl were extremely suspicious of the Exarch initially (Mahl actually punched him when they met. Sorry G'raha...) And when the truth came out about who he was, there were a lot of other slightly more dire concerns to worry about.

After saving the shard and the Source, Nahte needed time to reacquaint himself with G'raha. A few years for one had been centuries for the other. Both had changed since the excavation of the Tower. And the lengthy deception, attempted self-sacrifice, and his obvious very strong feelings for Mahl and Nahte were... a lot to absorb. On top of having no certainty G'raha could even return to the Source with them. Nahte was hesitant to commit to a romance that might be doomed to only the briefest of moments together.

A'mahl disagreed. As things settled between the three, and time was allowed for affection to blossom, Mahl argued that if they wanted this, they ought to pursue it. Tomorrow was never promised. At his urging, Nahte agreed to confide their reciprocated feelings to G'raha, and, of course, has not regret that a moment since.

12. Who has the most nightmares and how do they deal with them?

Nahte is extremely prone to nightmares, and while these tend to be reduced with the comfort of loved ones close at hand, none of his partners go very long without finding out about them.

By the time he and Graha get together, Nahte's pretty good at opening up about negative feelings (he was very bad at this in ARR and most of Heavensward, but yay, character growth!) And as the Exarch, 'sleep' isn't something G'raha has any excessive need of, so there's no reason to fear keeping him up to deal with the aftermath of a particularly vicious terror.

Strong though Nahte is... some things aren't meant to be faced alone. G'raha might still be learning to open up about his own struggles, but he will drop everything in an instant at the first sign Nahte is hurting, and needs help. It is comfort offered without judgement or shame, precisely because underneath the hood, G'raha understands what it's like, all too well.

Nightmares slept through are never remembered come morning. So, if Nahte's fitfulness in bed wakes G'raha first, he will also often cast Deep Sleep to soothe it away and give his lover peaceful rest.

(This is actually a WIP but I realized it fit and I'm working on it SO slow this progress piece can be the featured Doodle for this ask xD Based on the historic Korean War photo by Al Chung)

OTP Questions

[sweetcathedral]

A Deserving Torment

Note: Publishing this here, since I miss writing for this platform and realize how close I feel towards the fandom. This is more centred around emotional manipulation than smut, even though there are some erotic lines in here. Also, your cursed technique in this one is my OC’s technique, which I had drafted for a continuation of another plot in my docs; I needed to flesh out its functions properly, hence why I wrote this fic. Hope you like being in control, but without being selfish (if that makes sense)!

Pairing: Gojo x Fem! Reader

⚠️: mention of eating out, mention of cockwarming, emotional manipulation, minor vol.0 spoilers

Word Count: 1.9K

“You know, you’re not like any woman I’ve ever met before—

“Pause.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t start a conversation like that with me.”

“Why, because it’s not your first time hearing it?”

True, but also, “because I don’t plan on being treated special. At least not like that.”

Gojo gently chuckles, a small grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “How do you plan on being treated, if these words aren’t to your liking?”

“Like Nanami.”

Gojo glances at you from his phone, bursting with flirty notifications, eyes narrowing at the suggestive thought of Nanami.

Both of you were still in bed from last night. You were laying on top of Gojo, hearing the steady beat of his heart from his chest. The anticipating exhilaration of wanting to gently disrupt that slight calm in his chest, and mold him to your comfort, sends a shiver of excitement through your veins.

He drops his phone to the ground. “Whatever he could do—”

“No,” you push yourself off from his chest to straddle your hips on top of his. “The way Nanami treats me is much more than special, do you want to know how I know that—actually, no.” You retrace your thoughts, correcting your choice of words. “To show you how I know that? Make you feel what it’s like to be touched by Nanami?”

Loved by Nanami.

He exhales a scoff, placing his firm hands on your thighs, sliding them up to your waist and brushing his thumbs over your hips. “Enlighten me.”

It was a love that Gojo thought he knew, experienced, but didn’t. A love that died the moment he killed it—killed him. One he never got to fully experience in its whole raw form of an emotion.

Eloquently, like always, touch is the first sense you activate in Gojo; the feeling of your gentle fingers caressing underneath his jaw, satiating his touch deprivation—a specific type of touch deprivation. Not the ones that fill the void to curb the feeling of emptiness, but the one that makes him remember, reliving the shadows of his youth and what he took for granted; not that you could ever replace that feeling, his place, but you can feed it from time to time.

You didn’t even need to press your palm to the corner of Gojo’s jaw because the moment your touch connected with his nerves, he had been reawakened with desire—the need for a longing he misses and regrets. Gojo nudged his head into your palm, conforming to the shape of him; exhaling a release of tension that made him furrow his brows in a hurt expression as he’s reminded of the only person he loved the most.

Little did he know that your specialty was rooted in emotions, not just from everyone, but from anything capable of harbouring it—curses included, whether they know it or not because that is what they were birthed from: excess emotions of humans, excluding sorcerers (of course), but that didn’t mean sorcerers were incapable of withholding such complexities. To control one’s cursed energy is to control their emotions that drive it.

Only Nanami was able to fully control it on command and with fine precision, but that’s only when he’s not on overtime mode. When he wasn’t working, you could feel waves of his emotions boldly and more refined than anyone else's. His came in singular, upfront, formation making it known, rather than scattered and mixed—emotions hidden by other emotions—which was common in the majority of everything. Even in bed, watching him sleep soundlessly by your side, his emotions came in calm clear waves, whispering at you; a gentleness that surprisingly made you crave more.

But Gojo?

Gojo was nothing, yet everything. He was a vast void of emptiness, which scared you at first because he didn’t feel human, until you found out that in order to fill that emptiness, he had to feel something from someone. He was a pure recipient. There wasn’t an organism alive, or discovered, on this planet that was capable of being a pure recipient to your technique. You’ve trained yourself to only take, unable to test the possibility of giving, since you were the first of your kind.

Luckily, with Gojo, you were able to take a step into the discovery of giving with your technique: in order for it to be received safely, the recipient had to consent to it. The first emotion you tested with him was happiness, a safe option to start with. After testing out the main emotions, you’ve moved to the complex ones and have found out that you were an amplifier and a controller to sorcerers. You were an unlimited amount of cursed energy that can take and give when needed and when wanted. When in tune with a sorcerer, you were able to control the input and output of their energies, but every technique came with a consequence.

You begin to mimic Nanami’s emotional rhythm to Gojo, flooding his core of the absence with small doses of each emotion, absorbing everything you’re giving. Forcefully and violently, Gojo’s starvation tugs at you, consciousness and all, but you refuse to lose focus.

“This is what it’s like to be more than special.”

Gojo quivers at the feeling of you. You pull away, testing his neediness, but he firmly grabs you by the wrist bringing your palm back to where you placed it.

“Don’t,” he exhales.

The heat of his breath against your wrist as he kisses it, starving for more.

You slow down the flow of emotions, testing (again) how much he’s willing to take. Starvation is viewed as an easy fix, but dangerous when triggered, because once a body is aware that it’s starving and has been given a taste of what it’s like to be satisfied it will want more—uncontrollably more.

Gojo side glances at you, glaring at you through narrowed eyes, aware that you stopped the input of what he longed for, but you keep your composure waiting for his next action.

Startling you, he flips you onto the bed and hovers over you, not knowing what to do next—where to take from you. You have already established auto-consent of your technique between you and him, much like how his limitless technique runs automatically when it’s on, so he’s able to take it whenever. Whatever much satisfies him.

Gojo leans into you, pressing his lips against yours, parting them with his tongue. With every kiss he places on you, he takes it greedily and with a loathed expression, hating how much he knew he needed it—needed you.

You gasp at the rush of adrenaline arching your back, curling your toes, as you bite your lip to stifle a laugh. “How does it feel?” You probed.

He was heavily breathing against your skin. “Not enough.”

This is what it was like to be loved by Nanami: feeling wanted from your past to your future, desired every fibre of your being, attention, longing. He was capable of anything immeasurable because he was the balance to everything. If you were chaos, he’d be your calm, and if you were calm, he’d be your chaos; the epitome of Yin and Yang. To Gojo, Nanami would be his calm.

“Then do it. You know it feels best that way.”

Gojo’s fingers twitched, hesitatingly tightening his grip around your waist, trying so hard to fight the addiction of your technique, but—as always—he gives in.

“You know I hate you for what you are,” his kisses trail further down your stomach.

“Yet you desire me, whether you like it or not you gravitate towards me. You didn’t need to treat me special because I already know I am.” You gasp, feeling his tongue pressing against your clit.

“Then why mention Nanami?”

“Because he is your trigger.” Your fingers run through his hair, chest steadily heaving from Gojo’s pleasure. “He is the closest shape to what you lost—Geto—you miss him too much to function properly that you refuse to move on from your past.” Gojo lifts his head from your cunt, jerking his cock in his hand, preparing to press it into you and focus on only taking.

Gojo guides your legs, folding your knees to your chest. He rubs the length of him against your slicked cunt, appetizing you for what’s to come next. He didn’t have to look at you to show you that he acknowledged the truth behind your words, he didn’t have to admit, because you can already feel the sharp waves of his remorse as you tone it down. They were adamant waves, pleading for you to take it away, erase it—please, I’m begging you. Make it anything, but mine. It hurts so much, so please—but your technique doesn’t allow one to feel numb.

You dialed down the influx of sadness, remorse, regret and guilt, replacing them with love, lust, gratitude whatever it is; driving him to continue past the influences of your words. “You are not the strongest. You are the weakest with a strong technique.” He glares at you with the sliver of anger you gave him. The tip of his cock slowly enters, pressing all of his length against your walls, stretching you with his girth.

“You’re wrong,” his voice gruff with torment, thrusting into you with hate.

A ripple of ecstasy shoots through your body, almost making you lose your concentration. “No, you needed to know why you felt so empty all this time. Once you got a taste of what I was capable of, you finally found your answer. Except—fuck.” You stifle a moan as your walls hug around his cock. His hands tighten around the back of your thighs. “Except, you didn’t crave me to fill that void for you. You crave me because you love the feeling of absence. Not my absence, but the absence of the emotions you didn’t relish enough in your youth.”

He spreads your legs wider apart, shoving his cock to the brim of you, but stops.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” You cooed, pulling Gojo into your arms as you cockwarm him, making him trust the feeling of your comfort.

Gojo shuts his eyes.

The weight of him and his feelings coiling in on you and wrapping his arms around your head, slightly peeking from the curve of his neck.

You tune up the lust, overflow him with it so that it reciprocates back to you; hints of his wants purposefully scattered in the river of emotions, pleading for you to take it.

In order to keep Gojo under control, the higher ups have hired you to keep him in check. Obviously, you don’t trust them, so you only allowed them the basic knowledge of your technique.

Little do they know that the consequence of your technique would turn you into a curse itself—the first curse to be created by sorcerers, drained of your humanity.

You would be the first curse created by Gojo, and he wouldn’t even realize it until it’s too late.

“Stay like this,” Gojo wraps his arms around you tightly, still keeping the flow of emotions consistent.

You run a finger down his spine as you increase the one feeling that would break him—the cherry on top.

Betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” you softly replied with laughter in your eyes. “But we’re just getting started.”

You press your lips to his forehead, initiating his addiction.

An addiction Nanami was void of, annulled to, meaning another discovery you have yet to experience.

[yukina-otome]

Ikevamp pregnancy and family headcanon pt.1

So I don’t usually write headcanons. English is only my 3rd language so I make a lot of mistakes. But these days I work at the Maternity hospital and I got those baby vibes so I decided to write this. Please be nice to me. I’m a noob at writing lol. I will illustrate what I think the children would look like with pictures of characters that are NOT MINE. Pls be understanding. If you want a part 2 tell me what other boys you would like in the comments and live me a little encouragement because I have 0 confidence lol.

Part 2��| Part 3

1-Napoleon : 2 sons and 1 daughter 

-Napoleon always dreamed of a normal peaceful life -That peaceful life of course included you, and kids that would look like you running around. -And so when you first got pregnant Napoleon was beyond happy. -He wanted a little girl that would look exactly like you. -9 months later you gave him the cutest little boy with his dark hair and Turquoise eyes. -The second he laid his eyes on him he adored him. -5 years later napoleon asked if you were ready to have another one. A little girl this time hopefully. -And BOOM 10 months later a little boy was born again with dark slightly blue hair and blue eyes. -Still Napoleon loved him to death and was happy. -The third time you got pregnant was not planned. -You 2nd son was still 2 years old. -But you guys were still very happy. -9 months passed and napoleon was almost sure he'll get a little boy again. -But this time a beautiful baby girl was born with your brown hair and blue almost gray eyes. -Napoleon couldn't have been any happier. -He loved and cherished all his children equally. -His first born was calm and cool but very sensitive. He loved reading and studying. He spent a lot of time with uncle Isaac who taught him everything from math to physics to Latin. -The second born was more like Napoleon. He trained with his father and uncle jean as soon as he could walk. He loved his mother a lot and vowed to protect her from bad guys ("like uncle Arthur who always flirts with mama"). -The third born looked a lot like you but her personality was just like napoleon. She had charisma and everyone was in awe in front of her. she usually went on horse rides with her father. -The family would usually cook crepes together on Sunday and all of napoleon children still had to learn how to defend themselves. -He's very open minded and forging but very strict when it comes to their safety.

2-Mozart :  2 daughters (Twins)

-Mozart never thought about having children. -But being with you opened many new horizons in his life and he started thinking about what it would be like having a family with you. -So when one day you told him you were pregnant, he froze for 1 min before scooping you in his arms. -You've never seen Mozart smile wider. -When you were in your fifth month Arthur told you that you seemed bigger than most pregnant woman at that stage. -You wondered if he was right and visited your doctor the next day. -After some examination your doctor told you you were most likely pregnant with twins. She started explaining about the risks that could have. -When you told Wolf about it he was horrified. The thought of loosing you was unbearable. -But you told him you wanted this and that you would fight for your life and the life of your babies no matter what. You also made him promise to treasure and take care of your babies no matter what happens. -Your labor started early. In the 7th month to be precise and after few hours of fear and anxiety the doctor told Mozart that you gave birth to two beautiful girls and that both the babies and you were okay. -Of course the twins were very small and needed extra care but thankfully everything went well. -When you finally brought them to the mansion all the guys went crazy over them. -The first twin was the spitting image of Mozart with white hair and purple eyes. She was calm and cold looking but inside she was a big softie. Of course you guys named her Violet. -The second twin had your brown hair and her father violet eyes and she reminded you of a sunflower. She was cheerful and a bit clumsy. Theo loved her a lot because she reminded him of Vincent. Her name was Sonnen (solar in German) and Mozart always called her my Sonnenblume (means my sunflower). -Both the twins would learn piano from their father but Violet liked it more. Sonnen preferred to go out and play with king and uncle Theo -You would spend hours cooking with Sonnen who always had crazy ideas like marmalade butter beef cookies. (thankfully you would stop her). When you guys finished you went in the piano room where violet and Mozart were playing piano and invite them to eat. -You would all eat in the dinning room though because of the "No food in our piano room" rule.

3-Leonardo : 1 daughter (warning mention of character death)

-Leonardo didn't want kids at first. -He always thought about how you would feel if you saw yourself growing old while your child would stop growing out. -He also didn't want to see his child suffer the same way he did and would again eventually. -And so when one day you told him nervously you were pregnant he grew silent. You knew he needed some time to think it over so you gave him some space.  -Few days passed and Leo still kept silent. He was in his thought most of the time and le compte felt something was wrong with his friend. -When Leo told le compte, le compte frowned and told him that both of you need to have a conversation and that he cant stay silent for the rest of his life. -That night Leo knocked at your door and told you about his fears. You smiled at him and told him that you would never regret giving birth to his child. -"I know a day would come when i will have to leave you, that makes me very sad but what sadden me even more is imagining you alone after i leave. I want to leave you someone who can share your pain and happiness for eternity. Someone to remind you of me, of us." -After that Leo relaxed and as months pass the fear is replaced by excitement. He starts reading tons of books about pregnancies and child raising and his room becomes even more of a mess. -But one day after you tripped on a pile of books and almost fell leo decided that he would keep his room clean of all time. The next day when you entered his room and saw how tidy it is you got into shock. -Anyways few months later you give birth to a beautiful baby girl. Of course as Leo expected the baby was a true blood. -She had light brown hair and yellow eyes identical to his. -She was cute and sweet and at the same time had a fierce aura. She shared her father interests and always sat to read with him books that were way beyond her age. -She loved swords, fighting and sports. -She loved her uncle le compte the most and he always bought her all kind of dresses. -But one day she told him she didn't want any more dress cause she was going to wear pants from now on. -She was a tomboy and loved going to the pub with her uncle Arthur and Theo and start fights (once she was old enough of course) -She became her father best companion and even hundreds of years later he never felt alone ever again because she was always by his side even after you left them both.

4-Arthur: 2 daughters and 1 son

-Arthur knew you were pregnant way before you even noticed that you were late on your period. -He was not surprised because you two would go at it like bunnies every night so it was bound to happen. -He always dreamed and what it was to have a family with you but at the same time he was terrified. His past and trauma coming to haunt him again. -Outside he seemed fine but you knew better. You spent long nights reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. -He was feeling better but still needed your reassurance from time to time. -As the 9th month got closer he became incredibly overprotective. He stuck to your side at all time and got his old medical books out to study again Obstetrics and pediatrics. -He was ready. Or so he thought. -But when the time came he was an absolute mess of panic. It took Theo to give him a good punch on the face for him to get his s**t together. -DOCTOR MODE ACTIVATED. -Thankfully everything went smoothly and a baby girl with black hair and huge blue eyes was born. -He knew that moment he would never be the same ever again. -OVERPROTECTIVE PAPA MODE ACTIVATED. -He never let any man approach her (even the 2 year old who wanted to play with her in the park) -"All men are wolves my darling" he would say as his 1 year old daughter looked at him with he big blue eyes. -Eventually you got pregnant again (Again Arthur was not surprised). -But this time Arthur was a lot more calm. -A beautiful baby girl was born again with smaller blue eyes and brown hair. -She looked like a mini you but with Arthur's eyes. -Arthur wanted to name her Victoria but dropped the idea because he thought it would be confusing (because of Vic). -The two girls loved spending time with uncle Vincent and Theo -The first born favorite hobby was teasing her uncle Isaac as soon as she was old enough to talk. -"As expected of my daughter" Arthur would say as he rolls on the floor laughing. -She shared her father sharp instincts and would help him solve the cases in the city. -The second daughter was much more calm and gentle. Just like her mother. She loved her father stories but not Sherlock Holmes. Her favorite book was "The Coming  of the Fairies" -She had an almost obsession with fairies and supernatural beings. - When your daughter were both 10 and 12 years old you accidentally got pregnant again (If You think two daughters would stop Arthur you are very wrong). -This time it was the cutest baby boy with curly black hair and big blue eyes. -Your baby boy was a huge crybaby and was always stuck to his mother. He was delicate and sensitive. He cared about others well being more than anything and he dreamed of being a doctor. -When he told Arthur he was absolutely against it. He didn't want his son to go through the pain he had to endure. But as your son grew up he became less of a crybaby while still being sensitive and delicate. He showed great talent in the medical field. -"Arthur, you were alone but our son is not alone. He got us and his sisters to hug him and wipe his tears when he'll need a break. Let's support him together." you told Arthur one night and eventually his father accepted to let him live his dream.

I only did the 4 first suitors but if u want any of the others pls do tell me in the comments. I’ll make a part 2. Also since this is my very first headcanon pls tell me what u think. Don’t be too mean pls.

[hannie-dul-set]

who in svt would agree to back you up in a fight

we're talking about fist fights here, folks. blood, bruises, bones cracking, men crying. the works. if this was an argument things would go different. remember that some of our boys are himbos and would start malfunctioning during a verbal face off. please be considerate.

seungcheol: the first thing he would would do is ask why the FUCK are you getting into a fight?? are you crazy?? you could get HURT jesus christ kids these days (that's the point, cheol) even though he reprimanded you, he'd still show up to pummel your opponents with one arm only. how DARE they try to fight you what kind of savages. super cheol to the rescue <3 | rating: 9/10 because your ears will fall off from his scolding afterwards.

jeonghan: with how sly and sneaky this bastard is, you might think it would be a good idea to get him as your backup. an instant win, you won't even lift a finger. but no. he'd say sure let's go punch some dick or whatever but oh god your blood runs cold because fuck. he didn't show up. will only help if you agree to become his lifelong slave but uh, is it worth it? | rating: 4/10 because making deals with the devil is only a good idea if you're stupid and/ or a lunatic.

joshua: will show up, no doubts about that. shua is a man of his words. but then when you actually start fighting you immediately regret your decisions because apparently his muscles are only for show, not for use. these babies are for flexing not hurting smh. you end up losing because the only thing pretty boy knows how to do is stand there like a fucking dumbass joshua we had our hopes up, dammit | rating: 3/10 cause hey, at least he's nice to look at.

junhui: lmao did you think he'd answer you if you call him for help? did you really think he knows how to answer his phone? you'd be in the middle of fighting, desperately calling him for him because you're about to die, but oops junhui's busy playing kartrider, try again later. dude will ghost you until the day after the fight and he sees your broken nose, black eye and he'd ask "damn, had a rough night?" and you weren't able to stop yourself from jumping at him | rating: 0/10 the only thing you're getting from him is anger.

soonyoung: oh man he is DOWN for a fucking fight. he doesn't need a reason why. the moment you say "hey soon, i'm abt to get into a fight and—" "FIGHT?? COUNT ME IN" he has a taekwondo blackbelt, and you're SURE you're gonna win oh man. but when he shows up you're like yes baby but then you squint a little. hearing the shouts from behind him and you're like fuck. he brought a fucking mob. | rating: not sure how to rate this because the small 2v2 fight you planned turned into an underground fighting ring. oops.

wonwoo: all it takes for wonwoo to swoop in to the rescue is if you mention that you're in danger. he'd arrive mid battle, realizing that you had planned this entire thing and he's mad. he'd still beat them up for you, obviously. breadstick wonwoo is no more. the only downside is that after he's done with your opponents, he'd also bet you up because you're a fucking dumbass | rating: 7/10 because yes you won, but you also won a trip to the hospital (you deserve it, says wonwoo).

jihoon: one of your best bets. but only if he's not busy. i mean, do i even have to elaborate??? to explain?? one look at his tiny, compressed body building baby frame you'd be running. fuck that shit, i ain't signing up for an early acces to death— your opponents. "fight them, hoonie" "but they're already running away" "fight them" he sighs and he's like did you just arrange this to watch me fight someone and you're like yes precisely | rating: 10/10 plus bonus points for entertainment value.

minghao: first of all, why would you even ask him? minghao is a busy man, do you think he has time for childish fights? pathetic. he may be a martial arts king but these alley fights are horrid. you could have at least made an effort to actually sign up to an illegal fighting club. he'd ignore all your calls, leave all your messaged on read, and let you get beat up. he'd ask you the next day "so how was the fight?" and you're like fuck off | rating: 1/10 one point because minghao.

mingyu: well. uh. this one is a complicated case. he has the physical capabilities to win a fist fight. this is mingyu we're talking about. but he's nervous. he's scared. he only agreed because he can't just leave you to fend off for yourself alone awh. the fight starts, the other guy attempts a right hook to his face and mingyu PANICS and OH MY GOD he's fallen to the floor— dragging you with him. he's trying his best he really is and somehow you win the fight, but you end up just as battered, or even worse than your opponents | rating: -7/10 he did more harm than good rip.

seokmin: the fuck he can't hurt an ant why the fuck would you want him involved in a fight what is wrong with you. but this is sweet seokmin, he'd still show up if you ask. NOT to participate, of course. he'll be your own cute cheerleader and maybe nurse later on if you end up getting destroyed. "NOOO Y/N GET BACK UP YOU CAN DO IT" "YES TO THE RIGHT THAT'S IT!!" he'd cry whenever you got hit, and the end results looks he was the one who got in the fight instead of you | rating: 5/10 because he gave you a hello kitty band aid afterwards.

seungkwan: he would FREAK OUT because jesus christ you're getting into a fight?? UNPREPARED??? wow you're unbelievable. he'd agree to help you, of course with equal compensation. the day of the fight comes and you're face to face with your opponent. kwan was taking a while to show up and you were starting to get worried but then he pulls up with am entire fucking posse of big scary men and you're like oh my fucking god. insant win. rating: 8/10 because the emotional trauma wasn't worth the victory.

vernon: nonie is a pacifist. no fighting!! no violence!! why would you want to fight, that's not good :( he doesn't want you to fight and holy fuck, sudden turn of events, he manages to CONVINCE you not to. and so you don't show up to the place, and your opponents got angry and stormed to find you but oh?? he managed to convince them to stop as well??? wow you go vernon show them to the path of righteousness | rating: 100/10 vernon is the peace fairy we all need.

chan: "fight??? did you say fight??? oh my god PLEASE tell me there's a fight let me fucking FIGHT" chan has been waiting for this moment oh my god. the day that he'd be able to release his pent up frustrations from because of his hyungs. he's unhinged. unstoppable. oh my god what have you done you've just caused an irreversible awakening. please tell me you have the money for a bail and for a funeral because those guys aren't coming out alive | rating: 10/10 you won. yeah you did. congrats. the next problem is how to hide a dead body.

[45paperplates]

More about Olivia Rodrigo: On her Voice

It’s been almost a month since Olivia Rodrigo’s album came out and since my obsession shows no sign of fading soon I might as well put it to good use. From the beginning I’ve been captivated by her uncanny ability to express emotion through her voice but now I’m starting to realize how fully strange her voice actually is, that emotional dexterity requires originality which is necessarily weird. The strangeness is subtle because it is centralized, and so the songs can have an uncanny core with a very familiar pop ballad shell.  

In the final chorus of “traitor” she holds the last syllable of that word through three ascending notes, starting with the “er” sound of the word’s typical American pronunciation and through the next two beats progressively opening the sound to an eventual hard “ah,” effectively leaving the word behind altogether and never fully pronouncing it. She often seems to insist, against conventional wisdom, on incorporating speech sounds into her singing, talking when she should be singing, and here, screaming when she should be enunciating.

I must assume that this is because of an intuitive need for specificity in expression, a particularly tricky and treacherously precise specificity here. This song is about her dissatisfaction with what is truly a very normal occurrence, an ex-partner moving on to another relationship faster than would be expected: a common human behavior and always ripe to be explained away by whomever might find comfort in doing so. The perpetrator never feels they have done wrong and so she risks attacking her listeners themselves if she missteps. It’s as if her despairing, elemental sense of unfairness is being squeezed through the tiniest of openings, between petulance on one side and self-doubt on the other. The word “traitor” itself isn’t specific enough to get through this hole, and therefore must be refined further. The same goes for her pronunciation of “paranoid” earlier in the song.

She plays around a lot at the low end of her voice, often touching the unsingable, and if not quite doing so affecting a strained raspiness and phlegmy chest tone that I can only describe as something like a groan of mourning (the descending “said it first to meee” on “happier”), an utterly inappropriate, almost perverse inclusion in a teenage heartbreak ballad, enough to upset the dignity of less empathetic and more socially-experienced listeners.  

She begins “deja vu” with another kind of breathy low voice that slides around over the vocal cords and at times ceases to vibrate them entirely, a sort of wide-open piecemeal mixture of air and depth I personally associate with (in a much more pronounced form of course) Louis Armstrong singing “What a Wonderful World,” another perverse reference juxtaposed sound-collage style against the eye-wideningly unprompted falsetto that follows it, an acrobatically angelic sort of performance that would be sweet in a more expected setting but is here I think almost sickeningly pitiful in its objectively unjustified strain. Taken altogether this jump-cut from repose to borderline cringe must be diabolically calculated to exist at all, expressing the long-ruminated-upon pain of a supervillain, the kind of supervillain that people are always identifying with. The pregnant “huh?” just before the drums kick in isn’t really a question at all, although it is written into the song that way, because it is so overwhelmingly automatic, trance-like, involuntary. Olivia sings this whole first verse and chorus as if she has no other choice but to be wrong, as if she knows there is something fundamentally false about her accusation, as if she really doesn’t want to know at all the answer to the song’s question, but she is broadly compelled by her nature to ask against her will, by fate, by the self. It’s cosmic tragedy, not necessarily lyrically, but definitely vocally.

In case I sound like a nutjob I can provide proof of her interest in performing on just such a cosmic stage. “Rebel Without a Clue,” apparently written and performed when she was fifteen years old, apes a certain kind of singer-songwriter yearning so well that it took me a while to realize its lyrics are so vague as to border on meaninglessness. That is not bad at fifteen of course, but I think it is also proof of a voice-before-words tendency in her songcraft that will only benefit from further simplicity of lyrics and complexity of expression as she matures.

The song centers around “will I ever shake hands with time?” a line too louded and conceptually labyrinthine to carry the weight here that it could, but appropriate completely to the elevated intensity of the performance. She begins the song around a single held high note that she bends every which way, rather stubbornly refusing to turn it into a substantial melody, as if that would be crass. When she says “drink up my friend, my potion of emotion” or “I’m a rebel without a clue,” I don’t really know what these have to do with shaking hands with time necessarily, but they are related purely by the sustained tone in which they are sung.  

If anything though, the song’s vagaries can only suggest together an existential subject, about the pain of participation and the struggle for an alternative:

Let’s sit, watch the trains all derail They want me to learn Well they can sit and watch me fail

Here is an almost joyous refusal to accept the parameters of one’s existence, and the palpable pain of the song comes from the reality that this voyeuristic pleasure at the expense of the world cannot be maintained statically but has to be achieved by an act of renunciation that is sometimes impossible or cruel. She feels, in other words, guilt. Pleasure and rage come from the temporary success and inevitable failure of any attempt to avoid fate, and sadness swallowing both comes from the regret of having attempted to do so in the first place. “I don’t really know who I am / And now you want me to change.” She sounds guilty for having even asked the simple question, “sitting in my room, what’s it all about?” as though questioning one's surroundings weren't one of the most basic human behaviors.

It is the mixture of this search for pure identity and regret for its failure in all of her best vocal performances--focused so far mostly but by no means necessarily around an attempt to find identity in another person--that makes her sing in the subtle but erratic way that she does, because to regret the past and yet simultaneously repeat it in real time is both fundamentally absurd and extremely normal. Just as I described her initially, the stranger she sounds, the more she sounds like herself. Thusly she can make this obtuse metaphysical quest sound as it should, like the most obvious and deeply relatable thing to hear in the world; like an image of basic, unstoppable, irrational desire; like pop music.

[obeydontstray]

I Want More (A Maxwell Lord X OFC rp)

0(A Maxwell Lord (Pedro Pascal - Patty Jenkins universe) rp between myself and my girlfriend @historianwithaheart ) Can be found under the same name on AO3)

Maxwell sat at his desk, getting his first breather of the day. He looked around for his son. Being the first month of summer, Alistair was spending time at the office with him, but the kid was not in his office where he left him. Max hit the button on his desk and spoke. "Hey Britney, did Alistair leave me any messages of where he was going? Did you see him?"

“No sir I thought he was with you.” In Melony’s office she sat typing away. The little black haired boy munched on his carrots and drank the soda she had gotten for him. She didn’t know who this little boy belonged to but he had stolen her heart. “Like the new Mario Alister?” She asked him. He smiled.

“My daddy is so busy most of the time so it’s nice to come hang out.”

It wasn't uncommon for Alistair to take walks around the offices. Max always made sure he had a piece of money so he could buy anything he wanted from the cafeteria, vending machines, or gift shop downstairs. But he wasn't usually gone this long. It had been....an hour? Maxwell began to get nervous.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you McDonald’s this time but I figure that you shouldn’t be eating junk every time we visit.” She felt her heart ache when he smiled at her. “I get bored so it’s nice to come sit with you.” Alistair smiled. “Well I think I’m gonna have my Lunch break soon if you want a player two?” He nodded.

Maxwell walked through the office hurriedly, asking random people if they had seen the small boy with black hair and dark eyes.

“Did you tell your daddy where you were going?” She asked typing on her desk top. Ali stair nodded. “Left a note.” She smiled at him. “Good boy.”

Someone stopped Max. "I saw a kid go that way, down the hall." He thanked the person and began opening doors.

“Hey kid, have some water okay? Only one soda!” She handed him a water bottle. She sighed. One week late for the meeting. Wonderful.

The door flung open and a head appeared. One with dark blonde hair, handsome features, and dark eyes. "Alistair!" He said, stepping in the door and reaching out his arms.

“Hey daddy!” Melony nearly choked on her drink. “Well Mr. Lord you’re only a week and three hours late to our meeting.” She stood.

He hugged Alistair and quickly stood, straightening out his clothes with his hands and suddenly turning on the biggest smile. "I'm sorry, you are?" God she was beautiful! She had shoulder length blonde hair and the biggest, bluest eyes he had ever seen. Her ruby red lips were perfectly shaped.

“You new head of financials Mr. Lord.” Ali stair smiled. “She’s my friend!” Alistair said. “Look she brought me stuff to play with.”

Maxwell scanned the room. A few scattered toys, food wrappers still out, and a a Nintendo. "So this is where you have been disappearing to."

“She’s nice, and she bought me a Nintendo and she was gonna play with me on her lunch break.” Alistair said. “ if your daddy says you can we can still do that.” Melony smiled. “Melony Morningstar, Head of your financial division. We were supposed to have a meeting one week and three hours ago.”

Maxwell sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Shit, yeah you're right. Sorry, things have been so busy."

Alistair went and hugged around Melony’s thigh. She pet his hair. “Well unfortunately for you my schedule is full up until next Wednesday at two. We’re diversifying your portfolio Mr. Lord.”

"My, you are a busy busy woman. Could we meet now?"

“Well I have a very important meeting coming up, with a top partner.” She winked at Alistair and he smiled. “Can I have another soda?” He asked drinking the Mountain Dew.

"How many have you had?" Maxwell asked. "Your mom's gonna kill me for letting you drink too many."

“He’s only had one! I let him have one when he visits.” Melony said. Alistair leaned against her shoulder. “Mommy doesn’t let me have anything, she’s too busy with her new boyfriend.”

Maxwell frowned. "That's okay, you'll always get attention from me." He promised. "If it's okay with Mrs. Morningstar, you can have another."

“Miss.” Melony corrected. “I’m a Miss and I think you’ve had enough. Don't want to send you home to Daddy and have you bouncing off the walls.”

"How considerate." Max smiled warmly. "Miss Morningstar is right. How about some water, or juice?"

“I gave him water a few minutes ago.” She blushed. “Well I guess you better go little buddy. I think the jig is up.” She ruffled his hair. “If you want you can take the NES system home. That’s up to your daddy. I..I can’t make that decision.”

He nodded. "If she doesn't mind your visits, that's fine. You can keep it here and I'll get you one for your room at home too."

“Alright little man you should probably head to lunch with your pops.” She smiled at the boy. “As for you Mr. Lord, seems you're as irresponsible with your child as you are your money. I’d like to know why you just couldn’t make our meeting a week ago.”

"I'm not irresponsible!" He said, a little flash defiance in his voice before he ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. "He usually makes quick trips to the gift shop or cafeteria and back up. I didn't expect him to start touring people's offices. And I apologize, my only free time lately has been in the late afternoon. No business like show business, ya know."

“Mmm. No worries, little man and I keep each other company!” She smiled. “Oh yes far too busy. Then I guess it will have to be a business dinner then. Tonight at 6 your choice though perhaps a nice place to sit outside. The office is stifling.”

His eyebrow raised and a lopsided smile shown on his face. "Really? Tonight huh? How does Thai sound?"

“Fantastic. It’s my favorite. I’ll see you at six.” She penciled in her planner. “You best be there Mr. Lord, I am your new head of finances you hired me for a reason. And it wasn’t because I’m pretty, because you weren’t even there to look at me.”

"And I regret that deeply." He said, giving her a very obvious look over. "I'll meet you there." He said, laying his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Come on baby, let's go."

She waved at Alistair. She sat down and smiled to herself. She had just strong armed the most powerful man in this company. Not taking his his excuses. Alistair walks with Max. “You’re not mad at me daddy, she’s really nice and she plays video games with me sometimes. She says that if you were smart you’d start investing in Nintendo.”

He grinned. "Well I'll have to think on that. No buddy, I'm not mad at you. She's a very nice lady."

“Are you gonna date her?” Alistair asked. “She’s pretty, really pretty almost prettier than Momma.”

"No no, this is just a business meeting." He assured him, even if he had different things in mind. "She is really pretty, isn't she?"

“She looks like that Disney princess, Aurora.” Alistair said. “She sings pretty too.” He said. “Can I still hang out with her?”

"Sure thing buddy." He said, ruffling the boy's dark hair. "When did you hear her sing?"

“Well one day when you were super busy, and I got bored I went exploring and I got really lost, and she found me. I was crying a lot because I was scared. She picked me up and she sang a song to me to help me stop crying because I was scared.” Alistair told him.

He lay his hand on his son's shoulder and bent down to his level before pulling him in for a hug. "I'm so sorry you were lost and scared. I'll thank her tonight for caring for you."

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it to happen.” Alistair hugged him. “Just be nice to her okay?” Soon five o'clock came and Melony went home to change into a sweet little blue floral patterned summer dress. Cuban stockings, blue pumps. She did up her hair and spritzed her perfume. She picked up the phone as she put on her pink lipstick.

Maxwell looked himself over in the mirror. He wore a sunset yellow blazer with white slacks and a pastel orange shirt. His white loafers were shined and he pushed up his sleeves to his elbows. His hair was perfectly coiffed and he was cleanly shaven. He picked up his Polo cologne and sprayed it on. "Daddy, if it's not a date then why are you dressing up?" Alistair asked. "Dress for success, buddy. When you're a business man, you have to always look your best. This is a meeting, it's just outside the office so I'm dressing different." The phone rung and caught his attention. He lifted a finger at Alistair. "Hold that thought."

“Good evening Mr. Lord, Raquel said this was your home number. I’m honored.” Melony laughed.

"And who said you could call me at home?" He said in a flirty tone. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

“Well Mr. Lord by proxy of not specifying which Thai restaurant in DC you have hence forth invited me to call you at home.” She spoke. She heard the flirtatious tone in his voice. She felt a zap of desire run down her spine. Oh Melony, don’t you know any better. She thought to herself.

“Precisely. I’ll see you there soon.” She smiled over the receiver. “Oh and come prepared to work Mr. Lord. I’m not one of your office floosies.”

He smiled broadly and chuckled. "Work for what?"

“Honestly you think you’re so charming. Work work. Like portfolios and the future of your company, I’m sure you enjoy being able to spoil your little conquests. In order to keep doing that my darling Mr. Lord you need to be wise about the market.”

He grinned even harder. "I could have you fired for speaking to me like that, you know." He tested.

“Then I guess you wouldn't have a company much longer Mr. Lord. I will see you in a bit. Tell my little buddy that next time he wants to come play he brings me a snack okay?” She smiled.

"Okay I will. See you soon." He hung up and Alistair looked up at him with a worried look. "You would fire her?" "No! No!" He assured his son. How could he explain himself without telling him he was flirting? "I was testing her! It's hard to explain, you'll understand when you're older. But she passed. And she said when you go see her again you can bring the snacks."

Alistair smiled. “Okay!” He happily went to to go get ready for the babysitter. Melony was sitting at a table overlooking the river into a forest. She checked her watch, her legs crossed as she skimmed through a book and sipped a beer.

"Daddy, can I dress up next time I go see her?" Alistair asked. "Sure buddy." Soon Max had dropped off his son and strolled into the restaurant looking for her.

She sat there. Looking much different from before, more soft and feminine. She checked her watch again, when she heard whispers. Ah he's here. She thought to herself.

Women stared at him as he walked past, a handsome grin on his face and he shot random women flirty winks. His bright gold watch and rings flashed in the low light of the restaurant. "Miss Morningstar, nice to see you again." He greeted before took off his jacket and draped it on the back of his chair before he sat down.

“It nice to finally capture your attention for a moment or two.” She smiled at him. It was a flirtatious smile. She couldn’t help it.

"I'm a man in demand." He said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. “Indeed.” She grabbed her brief case. “Okay so you started in oil but how long before that goes dry, you need to diversify.”

"Alistair said you told him I should invest in Nintendo." He chuckled. "What about that little computer company? Apple is it?"

“I think that’s a solid bet, personal gaming systems, personal computers, making it individual is going to be big.” She continued. “Your oil company is a great start, it really is, and your other investments are doing well but we need to be able to have more than one leg to stand on, what are the big draws? Entertainment, technology and of course oil and trade.” She handed him a large book. See.”

He flipped through the books pages quickly. "Hmmmm, I see." His lips were pressed together in a goofy shape, making him look as if he was only half considering the things he was looking at.

She looked at him, she knew that look. He's only half considering it. She bit her lip and let her anger simmer. “Sir, I’m trying to be diplomatic but do you think I’m a joke? I’ve spent hours doing the job you’ve hired me to do, and then you can’t be bothered to see me at our planned meeting and then you come here and half ass your considerations.”

"What? I'm thinking!" He said, his warm brown eyes flicking upwards and locking with hers.

“If you say so.” She sipped her beer. “I apologize, this is important to me.”

He nodded and looked her in the eyes again. "And it shows, I apologize if I'm not demonstrating my interest. I'm just a little distracted, but here, let me take another look."

She sighed. “It is kind of late and if I’m being honest Mr. Lord. I’m tired.” She spoke. “At least I have you thinking.”

He nodded. "Yes it is late. I'm sorry we got off to a rocky start, but I really enjoyed your company tonight." He said with an earnest face.

“Well I guess at the very least you can continue to enjoy my company. I wouldn’t protest.” She said to him sipping a beer. I mean our first meeting was supposed to be just a get to know your employee type deal, but your company took a big chance on me and I..I just don’t want to fail.”

"I'm really glad whoever made the decision did. I uh-I'm not as involved in the hiring process as I should be. But I would like to get to know you more. And if it's okay, can I borrow this book? I'll review it in the morning with fresh eyes and a clear mind."

“Don’t you eat breakfast with your son?” She asked him. “And what we’re you distracted by.” She handed him the book.

"I do. I'll look it over again after I get to work." He looked up at her again. "Who wouldn't be distracted by someone like you."

She scoffed. “Honestly, Mr. Lord, I hate to sound pretentious but, again, I’m not one of your office floosies.” She looked at him. God, his eyes were so sincere. “But I have a feeling you know that.” She handed him his beer.

He nodded and took his beer before taking a sip. "I know you're not like them. I don't pay attention to them. But you..."

“But what about me Mr. Lord?” She smiled at him. She moved a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're authoritative and commanding and just...beautiful. You fill up the whole room with your presence."

She felt her face betray her emotions flushing pink. Clearly not the rouge one her cheeks. “Mr. Lord, I..”

"And my son told me what you did for him when he was lost and alone. And that, I'll forever be grateful to you for."

She was really blushing now. “Oh it’s nothing, anyone would have done that. I honestly thought maybe he was like a receptionists son, or something I didn’t know he was yours, but I...I can’t stand to hear a child cry. Especially...a sweet little boy like that.”

Maxwell's eyes moved to his empty plate. "I never thought of him getting lost like that and getting scared. I trusted him to just go to one of two places and back. I never thought of him getting lost. It broke my heart when he told me what that was like. But, he told me he thinks you are like Princess Aurora."

“Mr. Lord, if I could be so bold.” She said to him and took his hand. “He never blamed you, and he loves you dearly.” She said to him. “I just heard him cry and I just wanted to help. But you’re a good father.”

He nodded. "I try. I only get him on weekends right now and I try to set aside time to be with him, just one on one, but it's so hard to make time in the business."

“He sees you try. I’m sure.” She realized that she was holding his hand and blushed. “I..I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand away and chugged her beer.

“This is inappropriate and I’m sorry. I should go.” She went to stand.

He reached out and lay his hand on hers. "No, no please. Don't leave. We're just getting to know each other."

She felt her heart leap up into her throat. The story playing out in her bright blue eyes. The felt it, the attention, but her mind raced. What would he do with her when he was done. He could see it, she was sure. She sat back down. “I guess then maybe I should tell you more.” She didn’t take her hand away.

"Yes, tell me everything." He said, curling his fingers so that his hand wrapped around hers.

She felt her breath hitch. Her mind racing. “I...I..” she stammered. This seemed like a hazy dream. This man, the man who ran the most successful company right now, and her. Little old her. She wasn’t worth his time. “My name is Melony, I’m twenty eight, I have masters degree in finances and law. I...I like nature, and art and archaeology. I..I’m single. Have been for a while. Because being woman, having feelings gets you no where in this big business world. I’m witty and intelligent. Some men call me frigid or a bitch but I call it getting by.”

"You don't not seem those bad things to me. And I'm Maxwell Lord as you know. I'm divorced. You know Alistair. I'm 35. We have similar tastes."

“And I’m being incredibly stupid right now. Letting you know these things about me. Letting my guard down.” She confessed. “I should have Just kept it business.” She felt the room grow hotter. “This is how a woman gets a reputation.”

"How? Just by talking to me?" He asked, confusion sparking on his face.

“By letting my guard down around you.” She said to him. “Maxwell Lord, the infamous business man, being seen with his head of finances, a young woman.” She searched his face. “I guess one of my poor traits is I’m obsessed with my image.”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "We can keep our meetings strictly business and in office, Miss Morningstar."

“I suppose, but you’re still holding my hand Mr. Lord.” She breathed out.

He drew back his hand slowly. "Well, I guess I should let you go. I'll see you at work Monday afternoon to give you a decision." He said as he stood and grabbed the book.

“Mr. Lord.” She reached out for him. “Don’t.” She looked at him. “I, am just scared. I haven’t, I haven’t let myself be vulnerable in a while. You astound me. Have since I first saw you on tv, have since I applied to work for you. Your company gave me the opportunity to do more than fall into the darkness that was waiting to take me. You’ve set the annals of my heart alive with flames once again. Forgive me if I am a guarded woman.”

He looked down at her with the softest expression before he sat down again. "Really? You'd use such beautiful words for me?"

“Perhaps you need a little beauty and honesty in your life.” She replied.

He reached out and took her hand once again and his thumb smoothed across her knuckles. "Maybe you could be the sunlight in my life, then."

“Mr. Lord, I...I don’t know about all of that, but I think perhaps maybe for a little while we could make each other realize that the sun still shines.” She paused. Not knowing what to do next.

"Call me Max, please." He looked at his watch. "It's getting late, I shouldn't keep you. The babysitter will be ready to go home soon, it's after Alistair's bedtime."

“What if...I want to be kept. Max.” She looked up at him and stood. “Maybe it’s the beer or maybe it’s just your touch, and maybe it’s just my personality but I feel brave.”

"I'd love to stay but I have to be home by midnight. Unless..."

She stood and moved closer to him she took his hand and placed her lips on his in a slow sensual kiss. But her shaking body betrayed her confidence.

He moved to hold her cheeks gently in both hands and kissed her again. "Then come home with me."

“You don’t have to ask twice.” She replied. Thank god they were at a secluded table.

"Come with me, let's take a taxi."

[bangtan-madi]

All Of Our Lifetimes — Intro: Crimson Fountain

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 2.8k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories? 

Part — 0 / 10

Warnings — murder, death, lots of blood, the intro is pretty much the darkest of the entire series so if you make it through this you should be good

A/N — So I know my WIP List says this series wouldn’t start going up until late April, but I had a spark of inspo way earlier than I thought. I wrote it and loved it, so the intro is going up before the outline is even done! Just to get you a ‘lil taste of what’s to come ;)

— Next

With a grip of steel, Taehyung drags you through the darkened spaces of the museum. Footsteps echo through the adjacent hallways, and your heart pounds irregularly to the beat. Like war-drums announcing the start of a battle, your ears pulse with hot and heavy blood. You should be petrified, you should be a terrified mess, but all your mind focuses on is the carnage lying at the feet of Winged Victory.

She’s dead, you think to yourself. Your breath burns inside your lungs, like thick steam, as you both tear past the dimly lit corridors on your desperate way towards the exit. You talked to the woman ten minutes ago, and now she’s dead.

Taehyung glances over his shoulder, dark brown eyes showing surprising calm and control. The way he pulls you close to him, the way he shelters you as you run for your lives, it’s not out of fear. Or, at least, not entirely. His movements are calculated, precise, and methodical. Even in the chaos, he is in control.

And then it hits you: this isn’t the first time either of you has run for your lives. Pieces of your lifetimes come back, trickling in like raindrops down a window. It's taken you this long to find each other, to win each other over, to get back what time has taken. The last thing you want to do is lose it all over again. 

Taehyung pulls you with him, taking cover behind a wide column. Before you have a chance to ask why you've stopped, Taehyung puts a slender finger to his lips. His mocha eyes shift to you in a warning manner. 

Don’t make a sound. Not one. 

You can see the words both in his gesture and glance. Shutting your mouth, you nod once. 

Your hand tightens around his as another set of footsteps thunders down the hall, breaking into the open space. Though moving quickly, they move with purpose and passion. The man—no, the murderer—you saw standing over the artist's body still searches for you both. 

“I know you’re here, Kim!” A gruff voice with a foreign lilt fills the void. “You aren’t doing yourself any favors by running. I think you know that.”

Your eyes shut tightly as your breath catches in your throat. The murderer’s voice reverberates across the marble floors and granite pillars, hitting your ears like a shockwave. The terrifying truth is that this man’s identity is a mystery, as is why he killed the artist or why he wants to hurt Taehyung. 

You remember the woman's name clearly: Emilia Popescu. She was a friend of Taehyung's. Whatever the reason for her brutal demise, you can’t fathom it. A day that started with the love of your life in a city you now call home has ended with the grisly image of a corpse, one that will forever be burned in your mind.

He killed Emilia. And now he’s coming for you.

Taehyung brings your attention back to him as he peers around the room. His eyes move from one exit to the next. From where you're crouched behind the pillar, there aren’t many options for escape. The rear is the best option, the museum's Van Gogh Hall from where you came; however, running in that direction would put your backs to the murderer, giving him a perfect target. The only other way out is a large doorway to the right. It leads to a long hallway, which connects to the building's emergency exit. Again, going that way might as well be suicide; you’d have to run right in front of the mad-man.

The room is quiet now. Only the hefty footsteps beyond your hiding spot remain. Not even the museum's usual occupants remain; in the wee hours of a Sunday evening, the patrons and employees have long since left. It’s the day before the Vernal Equinox, 1995. The only people supposed to be inside at this hour were Emilia, Taehyung, and you.

Taehyung taps a finger on the back of your hand. When you turn his way, he gestures with a jerk of his chin to the wall behind you. At first, you don’t see what he wants to show you. It’s only when you look closer that you see it. Along the walls are portraits, but it’s not the pictures that your lover is interested in: it’s the glassy surface covering them. If you focus, the glass acts as a reflection, and from here, you can easily make out the man stalking you. 

The murderer moves from one side of the room to the other, avoiding the ferns that line the spherical fountain’s edge. Though his movements are cautious, you doubt that they’re that way because of you and Taehyung. This murderer isn’t someone that fears anything. He did not hesitate to kill Emilia, and he won’t hesitate in doing the same to you. You doubt he’s even a man at all, only a beast playing with his prey, feeding on your terror.

He is a wolf enjoying the hunt.

Your brunet companion leans down to your level, his hand gripping your shoulder. His resolute expression gives you a smidge of hope that you might just survive this night. However, that calm lasts only a second. You whimper softly at the sound of a collision behind. The murderer crashes something into a nearby column. While you're grateful that it wasn’t yours, every noise he makes, even his footsteps, brings you closer to panic. Every sound is like a punch in the stomach. He wants you to know how close he is to killing you both. 

The column takes another hit, and the ceiling overhead trembles. While most of the museum is made of concrete and brick, with some expensive granite and marble thrown in, this particular ceiling is entirely made of glass. It reveals a beautiful night sky, one that might make you stop in wonder on another night. The panels shimmer, coming all to close to shattering. Whatever this man is doing to the column, he’s breaking the structural integrity of the room. Anything more than another hit or two could send you all into a thunderstorm of glass shards.

“I will bury us all, Kim!” the murderer shouts. Another hit, and then another. The glass starts to scream and crack. “You know I will!”

Taehyung's grip on your shoulder tightens, and his lips close in on your ear. His next words, though a whisper, are sure and strong. “When I tell you to run, go for the exit behind us. Don’t look back, sweetheart. Don’t stop until you get to the street. Wait for me there, but stay out of sight.”

“What are you going to do?”

Taehyung's hand moves towards his hip, gripping something metallic and sleek under his coat. His wedding bang glints in the dim light, and you realize he's armed.

“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t follow us,” he replies with a growl. “I’ll lead him away. Do as I say, and we’ll be just fine. I’ll find you.”

Before he leaves, you grip his hand and make him turn back towards you. “And what if you don’t?”

His features stiffen, almost as if his face is made of stone. He pulls the weapon from his pants and holds it skillfully. “Then go to the police. Tell them what happened.” To break the intensity, he flashes a quick, boxy smile. “But don’t worry. I’ll be there."

Your grip on his wrist tightens, and your voice quivers. "I just got you back, Tae. I just found you, after all these years. I—Please, don't make me lose you again."

Taehyung's brown eyes soften, and he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. His dark curls hang in front of his eyes, but you know they're locked only on you. The connection you feel with him goes far beyond words or looks or touches. 

What you have together crosses lifetimes.

"We prepared for this," he murmurs, hot breath dusting your teary cheeks. "We knew this was coming. I don't regret a single moment I spent with you, [Y/n], and I'm sorry I fought you all these months. I should have believed you when you told me what we were. You found me. You saved me. Now let me save you."

"I don't want you to save me," you cry over the sound of the glass shaking above your heads. "I just want you safe—!"

Taehyung shuts you up with a fiery kiss, forcing his mouth against yours with a near brutal intensity. Your hands move through his hair, the force of his lips forcing your back against the column. A tug on your lower lip, a slide of a tongue across the same, a whisper of, "I love you more every lifetime."

It ends far faster than it should, nearly as swiftly as it begins. Taehyung pulls away and shoves you in the direction of the escape while jumping out to shield you. He turns to look over his shoulder, ensuring that your shaky legs are in fact moving.

"Go!”

Before you can protest the terrible idea again, Taehyung turns back towards the murderer and fires multiple rounds. In the reflection of the portraits, you see his attention shift immediately to your husband. Taehyung moves speedily, eyes locked on his target. He continues to fire, forcing the mad-man to take shelter behind the fountain. As he ducks for cover, Taehyung changes out the used cartridge for a full one.

The murderer fires again, and Taehyung dodges the blasts with relative ease. As he rolls out of the line of fire, he lets another set of shots rain towards him. One of them grazes the mad-man's shoulder, but he doesn’t make a sound or expression of pain. He twists out of the way, throwing himself onto the ground to dodge. When he stands again, bullets erupt from his gun. 

Taehyung attempts to run, but as he ducks out of the way, one of the bullets punctures his left shoulder. With an agonizing shriek, his right hand cradles his wound.

With a sudden burst of bravery, you start to move from your hiding place, wanting desperately to help him. When your husband sees you, he thrusts his hand up to stop you. 

“Go!” he mouths. The murderer fires several rounds up into the sky. The glass ceiling shatters, and thousands of tiny shards start to rain. 

When you don’t move immediately, Taehyung screams the word as forcefully as he can: “Run!”

The next ten seconds are a blur, stretched out into what feels like several minutes. Taehyung turns his weapon back to the murderer, but he dodges the first two rounds your husband lets off. His swift feet take him out of the line of fire. As he moves, he charges Taehyung, swinging a handful of glass shards in the Korean's direction. They make an impact, creating several gashes across the exposed skin on Taehyung's face, arms, and hands. 

Flinching in pain, Taehyung fires another pair of rounds as he stumbles back into the fountain. He lands on his hands and knees, crimson blood trickling into the water. 

In the split second between the two shots, the murderer takes aim. One of the bullets lands on the murderer's shoulder, while the other cuts straight into his neck. Blood pours profusely from his wounds, causing him to falter and his armed hand to lower.

You take that opportunity and make a mad dash for your lover. He's injured and vulnerable. If you were to do as he said, to leave him alone to fight off this intruder, he will die. There's not a doubt in your mind. 

As you grab Taehyung's arm and begin pulling him to his feet, your lover's terrified eyes flicker up to yours.

You see the brown irises darken before you hear the shot. Taehyung's gun falls to the ground with a clank, hitting the edge of the fountain before scuttling away. His breath catches, and blood pours from the wound in his chest. 

He tumbles over. You break from your stunned stupor and lunge to catch him. Both of you collapse into the fountain, water soaking your clothing. You cradle him close, arms around his shoulders. He stares up at you, those same brown eyes both wide and terrified. His chest spasms erratically as breath and blood fight to fill his lungs.

Tears burn your eyes as you clutch him closer, pressing your hands over the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. 

“No! No, hold on, Tae!” You start speaking to him in his native tongue, hoping that, somehow, this will be the magic spell that heals him.

Another shot rings through the halls, this one coming mere seconds after the last. The metal tears through your abdomen, causing you to fall on your side beside Taehyung. Your head crashes against the rim of the fountain.

"[Y—Y/n]!" Taehyung chokes, blood pouring from his torso and mouth.

The murderer hesitantly lifts himself off the floor, cradling his injuries with care. Crimson covers his entire body, and from his swaying movements, you can tell he's lost a lot of it. The mask he's worn the entire time is partially falling apart, revealing the heavyset eyes of a hunter. 

He's barely able to stumble forward and point his weapon at the two of you, intending to finish you off.

"Time to die, you unnatural things."

Though fuzzy and confused, you reach for the weapon Taehyung dropped in the scuffle. You aim and pull the trigger with ease, praying to god that at least one of your last three bullets hits a vital region.

One misses. One hits his ribcage. One tears through his hand, blasting the gun to pieces and tearing several of his fingers off. 

The murderer lets out an ear-piercing scream and falls back, trembling legs taking him towards the exit. Sirens blare in the distance. The police are closing in. The last thought you spare him is one of vengeance, of a hopeful capture, of justice served.

The gun falls from your fingers, returning to the water where you retrieved it. You fight against the urge to close your eyes, still dazed from the knock to the head. Turning to the side, you see Taehyung scooting over towards you. His uninjured arm is dragging his body the meter's distance between you.

Reaching out, your hand grasps his. You bring each other closer to the other as blood pours from your wounds and further infuses the water with a garnet hue. Taehyung's fingers are cold and shaky, just as yours are pale. All you can do is loop your fingers around his, making one small connection as the whole world falls apart around you.

Taehyung moves his hand to your head. With a small smile, he brushes your messy, damp hair from your eyes. They close on their own accord, and you lean into his hand. You feel the ghost of death sneaking up on you once again, and from the way Taehyung's breath is slowing and the amount of blood filling the water, you know it won't be long now. It seems like you'd just found each other again, after all these years of him not remembering. It was your curse to find him and make him remember, and now you're going to lose him all over again.

Whatever happens after this, you've found each other again. If that's the only good thing that survives today, you're okay with that.

You bring your forehead against his, the last breaths of this lifetime slipping into your lungs. Forcing your eyes to open once more, you offer a semblance of a smile to the childlike fear you see on your husband's face.

"Come—Come find me," you sputter, voice barely above a whisper. "It’s your turn. In the next one: meet me there."

Taehyung nods once, barely moving his head. The miracle that you prayed for, the one you begged for, never happens. Taehyung chokes on his own blood for another few seconds, and his hands clasp yours tightly. In that moment, there is no way to tell who is more petrified: him or you.

Taehyung opens his mouth slightly, as if trying to say something, but he can’t find the words. A heart-wrenching, soul-crushing moment passes. His chocolate eyes fog over. His chest stops heaving. His slender hand falls from yours.

If you had enough life left in you, you would have whimpered and cried and screamed. Instead, you allow your eyes to close on this life, your final breath escaping with those same words.

A request. An order. A promise.

"Find me." 

[harrowscore]

Mikasa Ackermann, Levi Ackermann, Amane Misa, Aeron Greyjoy for the charactet ask :3

SOMEONE HEARD MY PRAYERS AND NOW MY TIME HAS COME, tysm!!!!! <3

okay, let's start with levi (my beloved):

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life (THEE little feral anime man after my heart)

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang (Dark, Tall and Snarky + piercing grey-blue eyes and chronic insomnia? clearly my type ❤)

hogwarts house: gryffindor (maybe....?) | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

ugh, the hp sorting house system is way too reductive. he has qualities of gryffindor, slytherin, and hufflepuff - brave, astute, loyal to a fault, etc. so it's a hard choice. but if i really have to choose, i'd go for gryffindor. i know that his Bad Boy facade shouts slytherin, but while he has larger goals (killing all the titans, then saving the world etc.), he's got no actual ambition for himself. hufflepuff would also be a good option.

daemon (from the his dark materials series): (because i've just decided that's just way more accurate than the hp method) some kind of big feline. maybe a panther - a black panther would be the ideal - aloof, predatory, dangerous, fiercely independent.

best quality: besides his obvious strenghts as a leader and warrior, the way he cares for his comrades-in-arms. it's very hard to gain his trust and respect, but once you have it, it's forever. he's pragmatic and ruthless, yes, but he also has a huge capacity for compassion and friendship. not that he would be effusive about his affections, of course.

worst quality: none, he's absolutely perfect ❤ jklsdfhjk jokes aside, he really struggles to open up (a serious understatement), idt he ever talked about his traumatic past with anyone. i mean, maybe he mentioned it to hange and erwin (erwin knew him when he was still an undergound thug, so...), but... he's not great with feelings. despite his apathetic, intimidating mask, he feels and cares deeply, but he has a long history with losing the people he loves, so he tries to not personally care about his squadmates, which can be both a strenght and a weakness. of course, he spectacularly fails at this.

ship them with: well, it's not a secret that i'm a huge rivamika fan, this ship is almost literally consuming my waking thoughts lmao. imo they're perfectly compatible: very similar personalities (stoic, the strongest warriors, absolutely terrifying on the battlefield but with a soft underbelly), very similar pasts/experiences, so many parallels that it's actually ridiculous, etc. i love how they're both each other's equals and likeness (yes, i took it from jane eyre. no, i don't regret anything lmao). a lot of tropes i love, too: Terrible First Impression (the Pride and Prejudice vibes are so strong with these two, you have no idea), Kindred Spirits/Mirror Images, Veteran/Young Prodigy, The Last of Their Kind, even Height Difference lmao. i could write a whole rivamika manifesto, but this is already too long. (maybe for some other time 👀) i would've loved for their dynamic to be more explored in canon but alas, isayama clearly didn't give a shit about the ackerman legacy, he just used it as a plot shortcut to give them conveniently unique powers, since they never really talked about it 🙄 (and before some troll comes into my askbox shouting "you iNcEsT fReAk!!!!1!!", they're only very distantly related. we know shit about the ackermans but we know for sure that they've got at least several generations between them. biologically their shared DNA is 0%, obviously they don't see each other as family, all the eldians have a dead ass common ancestor from 2000 years ago so they're all basically ⁓related anyway. if you really wanna scream about i.ncest, go watch got/dark/the borgias and shut the fuck up please. or alternatively go outside and touch some grass) sorry for the rant, uh. anyway, i can also see levi/erwin. idk if i'd ever care enough to read a fic about them (i'm usually a huge multishipper, but for some weird reason not when it comes to rivamika? same with braime and kastle tbh), but still, i can see it.

brotp them with: hange and erwin, obv. veteran trio >>> ema trio, sorry not sorry (at least h. and e. died before yams had the chance to ruin their character arcs)

needs to stay away from: ...uh, filth, i guess? lmao

misc. thoughts: besides the stupid teenage fangirl crush i have on him, i'm genuinely fascinated by the man himself. he's a huge mess of a contradictions, and yet somehow it works: he's violent and brash and kind of an asshole, but also has a strong moral code and integrity; he's obv very skilled at all the killing/torturing stuff and yet he has a huge respect for life; he's got a potty mouth to say the least, and yet some very aristocratic manners/tastes (the way he sits, his preference for tea and usually refined clothes); he comes from what's supposed to be an illustrous bloodline, he's methodical and very precise, and yet he was born and raised in the underground, he's been used to filth and blood and poverty since he was a child, kenny of all people was his father figure, and probably has known no other life than a perennial survival mode existence. he's "humanity's strongest soldier", but while well-built he's also small, the david to the titans' goliah, and probably not what people would assume a born warrior looks like. he's also one of the few characters who stayed true to himself and his original characterization until the end, bless you smol king ❤

(okay, this is getting long!)

mikasa:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them (so much. she deserved better ❤️) | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! (stunning lady ❤) | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

this is actually easy: mikasa belongs to hufflepuff and no, i won't take criticism (just joking lol). enough with this "hufflepuffs are fluffy puppies/Cinnamon Rolls <3" thing: mikasa values loyalty and duty more than anything else. she's also hardworking... and fierce, strong, lethal. yes, hufflepuff and lethal are not mutually exclusive concepts.

daemon: (finally the better option) a she-wolf, fiercely protective of her pack.

best quality: loyal, brave, incredibly strong (alongside her more fragile qualities). practical and level-headed on the battlefield, at least when eren is not included in the picture.

worst quality: struggles to let go of the past (understandable, considering her trauma). tunnel-vision when it comes to eren, obv. extreme levels of delusions ("if only i spoke openly about my romantic feelings for him - as if i didn't made them abundantly clear in ⁓6 years - he wouldn't kill 80% of humanity :(((" lmao okay. just. okay), but that's more on the writing. she's sadly more static than any other main character throughtout the whole series.

ship them with: see above :) but recently i've also started to be intrigued by mikasa/annie and mikasa/sasha. also, i'm sympathetic to jeankasa fans, though i don't actually care for the ship.

brotp them with: EMA trio, especially armin+mikasa. their friendship is so beautiful and special. also sasha.

needs to stay away from: ...... eren, at least romantically. again, that's more on the writing than anything else, but e.remika unfortunately encompasses many tropes i loathe with all the strength of my old shriveled heart: childhood friends-to lovers where the (male) childhood friend doesn't acknolewdge/is completely indifferent to the other (female) friend's romantic feelings, she hopelessly pines for him for years without anything more than a cold shoulder... until in the last chapter it's revealed that he loved her all along and doesn't "want other men to have her!!! :((" (then why did you have no reaction whatsoever to jean's years-long crush on her while she was jealous of any vaguely female-shaped human being you were friendly to, including hange? are you that dumb, man?); the female character's development and entire arc 100% revolves around the male protagonist - she has no goals, no dreams of her own except staying with him forever and ever; the romance is based on an idealized childhood dream, therefore reaffirming those childish illusions would make the character regress, not actually grow up (and nope, epilogue!jk doesn’t count; that also lacks build-up - i would’ve said the same about rm as well, so it’s not about shipping, guys, it really isn’t - and mikasa needed an inner change; getting married to another man but still praying to eren’s shrine is not substitute to actual development lol). post-time skip she's never really frustrated/angry with him, they never get a confrontation about him becoming a, y'know, mass-murderer of gigantic (pun intended) proportions; she puts him on a pedestal, and never stops idealizing him/never sees him for what he actually is (the narrative framing him as some kind of tragic martyr/saint eren from paradis with zero agency and basically... no clear motivation for the abovementioned mass murder, and not the actual complex tragic anti-hero/villain motivated by revenge and righteous fury he deserved to be, does not help). it lacks a good or even decent build-up - it's basically all tell and not show. now, if they'd actually been childhood friends to enemies to lovers/mutually co-dependent... it could have been interesting. sadly, it's not my cup of tea. of course this is just my personal preference, no hard feelings to the shippers.

misc. thoughts: enormous potential. she's been my fav female character since s1 - and ah, i miss s1!mikasa, when she had actually other stuff to do besides mothering eren. i love that she's the strongest warrior (second only to levi, obv), that her skills are never called into questions despite her gender, i love how she stands up for herself and the people she loves, that she may seem cold and stoic and yet has a such a huge heart, that she's not perfect but also sometimes awe-inspiring. sadly, she never really gets out of eren's shadow; what she lacks is an arc focused on herself. that's why imo getting deeper into the ackerman lore would've helped (also, you cannot make the main female character and the most popular male character descend from the same Unique Bloodline or whatever, and never really make them acknowledge it out loud; as a writer, you just can't lol). my spite is so strong that i'm currently writing a ridiculously pretentious fic that's 70% development for her character, to give her a voice, and 30% ackerthirsting. (yes, that's the fic i'm always vagueblogging about lmao, rip @ my brain). if any other rivamika fan is interested… mind you, it’s in italian tho, and idt i have the skills to translate into english.

misa:

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

daemon: mmh, maybe some kind of butterfly? beautiful, colorful, and short-lived.

best quality: glorious fashion sense, more inventive and ingenious than fans actually give her credit for.

worst quality: shallow, impulsive, and obv her dependence on/obsession with light (which stems from trauma btw, but still… the very opposite of a relationship between equals).

ship them with: rem, kinda (monster/human ftw!). also weirdly enough mogi, a little bit? she deserves someone who actually respects her… though she’s far from being a perfect angel. she may actually be crazier than light on some aspects. but in this house we stan evil ladies anyway, so i have no problem with that <3

brotp them with: uh, idk, maybe matsuda?

needs to stay away from: obv light. also takada.

misc. thoughts: a tragic victim of sexist writing. she may be… unhinged to say the least, but she didn’t deserve the abuse she got from light (and from the fans). the female characters’ writing in dn is so bad that idk if it’s on purpose, to kinda mirror the reality of women in a patriarchal society (dependent on men, housewives whose life entirely revolves around their husband/boyfriend etc.), or just casual misogyny lol. it’s even more baffling since we don’t know the author’s gender (they may be a man, a woman, nb, anything really). i tend for the latter option tho.

aegon greyjoy (now, i wasn’t expecting him lol):

general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

i’m so sorry, i haven’t the slightest idea lmao. maybe gryffindor? mind you, it’s been a long time since i’ve re-read the books, so i don’t have many thoughts about him.

daemon: maybe it’s cliché, but some kind of fish/squid lmao

best quality: ugh, i really can’t remember much from his chapters :(( he’s not a coward, i guess? (lame answer, sorry!)

worst quality: definitely his religious fanaticism.

ship them with: no one.

brotp them with: uh… his family, ig? except euron.

needs to stay away from: obv euron. brr ://

misc. thoughts: i genuinely like the greyjoys chapters, though i vastly prefer the martells (with the exception of theon and asha, bcs i love them). yes, they’re deranged. yes, victarion is… well, victarion lol. but the drowned god religion is actually interesting, grrm knows how to write trauma - every time aeron mentions euron and that freaking door i’m like… :// - and the tragedy of it all… just great writing all around.

okay, that’s the end lmao. thank you so much, love!!! ❤❤