#this makes someone clearly unattractive in my eyes

[ruhlare]

i don't like it when someone is easy to reach. when someone is open to everyone, when literally anyone can get their attention. it is a question of values ​​and principles not to be open to everyone and not to have the need for everyone's attention. people who are easily available won't value soulful connections.

[stonerfromlesbos]

You asked for it. | b.e

warnings: angst kinda?, smut, strap usage (r! receiving), angry sex, orgasm denial, pet names (baby, honey, darling, babydoll), spanking, degrading, hair pulling, !dom billie, !sub reader, toxic and mean billie, reader is desperate and dumb, they basically fuck the problem away, and lastly… THE BELT.

summary: you knew just what u were doing, walking like that, talking like that, looking like that to someone who wasn’t her… but you know, she will make you pay for it.

— 11pm, grammy’s after party. —

You felt her eyes burning on you, at each move you made, smirk you gave, and she clearly wasn’t happy about it.

You thought it would be an great revenge, you were mad at her, she wasn’t being herself lately. The work, the pressure, everything made her forget about you. And it only got worse, you felt invisible, unattractive, worthless.

So you decided to make her pay, but at what cost? well, that didn’t matter anymore. You would do anything to make her look at you, even if she’s burning in jealosy.

“i could take you to my house today… what do you think about that?… hey?..” you just was too focused on looking at billie, desperate for her attention. But suddenly, she gets up, and start walking towards you and… maybe julie? jade? jane? you couldn’t care less about what was the girls name.

“shes with me, come on, we have things to do.” billie spoke, with an cold raspy voice. She couldn’t even look at your eyes, she didn’t even grab your arm, her look on you made you feel gross… but you still knew, she had asked for it.

— 11:45pm, a lot of places actually —

You two entered her dodge challenger, she didn’t open the door for you, it looked almost like she was avoiding to be close to you. You kept your head down the whole drive, and she was quiet, deadly quiet. You couldn’t take anymore.

“don’t act like im the only asshole here.” you said finally looking at her, as she entered the garage. Her gaze was finally on you, her look was angry, sharp, possessive. You didn’t know how to feel about it, you’re glad that she was finally looking at you, but.. you’re still afraid of what she was going to say.

“well, you’re the only whore.” her voice was harsh, you took a deep breath and replied.

“don’t blame me for your incompetence.” you said in the same tone as her, even angrier. She was getting really pissed by this.

“excuse me?! what the fuck you just said?!” she wasn’t believing what she heard.

“its not my fault you didn’t even try to make me cum lately.” you stared deep at her eyes, as you saw the look of confusion? angriness? you couldn’t tell anymore.

“you fucking asked for it.” she got off the drivers seat, opening your door and dragging you inside by the arm. She was pissed, but still being careful to not to hurt you in anyway.

You couldn’t tell when you had took all of your clothes off, you just remember being pressed against the kitchen counter with billie tearing apart your fancy dress that she bought you. She made you turn your back to her, as you felt the pressure of her strap on your ass.

“why did you had to be so bratty today, baby? i know you can feel it… i was going to give you what you want, even more…” she spoke on your ear, as she continues to tear apart your dress.

“please.” that whine just escaped out of your dirty mind.. as you felt her hands grabbing your hips harshly, making you arch your back with the light pain.

“now you are begging huh? aren’t you the little slut who was flirting with some weirdo in front of me?” she spoke as you kept quiet, her grip on your hips was getting really harsh.

“bend over.” she said making you bend over the kitchen counter, as she took off her new belt from her hit me hard and soft merch… you could see her adjusting the belt on her hand, as you were with your full body exposed to her. You felt one, two, three smacks on your ass… still holding back every single moan.

“do you think that she could fuck you like me? huh? do you really thing she could treat you like the dirty slut you are?” you just shut your eyes and tried to make your mouth as closed as possible, and she didn’t liked that. She grabbed a fist of your hair, smacking your ass with the belt even harder as she pulled your head back.

“answer me.” she said with an low and raspy voice that made you shiver, since you were in this position, you couldn’t hold back anymore… you just let out an moan when she smacked your ass.

“mhm… n-no, no one can… please bills.” you said as she put your head down again, as she continues to smack your ass, harder and harder until she was done spaking you. It hurt, but it hurt so fucking good. She carried you in her arms to your room, placing you carefully on the bed.

“im gonna give you what you want now, darling.. face down, ass up.” she spoke in a demanding way, you did what she asked you to, she just pushed your underwear to the side to reveal that sticky wetness.

“i think you like being spanked a little…” she spoke, pausing to press her thumb against your clit as she smirked “…too much.”

“y-you’re fucking mean bill-..” you were harshly interruped with another slap on your alrealy bruised area, making you moan again.

“i don’t remember allowing you to speak, honey.” she said as her pace on your clit got faster, but she suddenly stopped.. as she unzipped her jeans.

She placed the strap on your entrance lubricating itself with your own liquids. She got in slowly to make you get used to it, but it was too big to be that easy. You grabbed the bed sheets almost as if your life depends on it.

“its only half way in, babydoll.. sure you can take all of it?” she said getting worried with you.

“yes.. i can.. please fill me up.” that was the only thing she wanted to hear, when you realized, she was already fucking your brains out.

She was pounding you harshly, you could swear that the whole fucking world could hear how loud you were moaning, but you couldn’t help it. Billie was pulling your hair as she hit your g spot, again, and again, and again… She had skilled fingers, and you knew that better than anyone. Without a warning, she begin to play with your clit like it was a fucking toy while she was making a mess out of your poor cunt.

“im c-close.” you said as you holded into the bed sheets once again, feeling your orgarsm coming… but she stopped touching you, she pulled out her strap as you whimpered.

“do you think you really deserve to come after all you did? come on.” she smirked, as you were compleatly at her mercy

“you asked for it.”

— GUYSS, thats my first oneshot here… english its not my mother language and im sorry if theres some grammar or spelling mistakes in this, hope you guys liked itt… horny freaks.

[darknight3904]

Better Than Revenge

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɪꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ʙᴏᴏʙ ᴍᴀɴ, ᴏʟᴅ ʜᴀʙɪᴛꜱ ᴅɪᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅ ɪ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ. ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀꜱʟɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴀᴛᴇᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ᴏᴋᴀʏ ɪ'ʟʟ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ʙᴏꜱꜱ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ ʙʏ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴀᴄᴋ! ʙʏ ᴏʟɪᴠɪᴀ ʀᴏᴅʀɪɢᴏ

Coriolanus was sure he was dreaming. There was no way you had actually shown up to this. But sure enough, there you were shaking hands and accepting hugs from stuffy old Capitol residents like you were their long-lost daughter. He had been trying to get in contact with you for so long now and it had been nothing but silence and being turned away from your family home. The only current information he had on you was that you were skipping university entirely and taking over your mother's position as head of technical operations for the games. Initially, he had thought that meant he might see you during his work with Gaul but you never showed, clearly, you had been stationed elsewhere.

His time in District 12 and whatever had happened between him and Lucy had cleared his head. He had come back with his goals set in his mind and was determined not to fall victim to another girl's spell just because she had a pretty voice. And yet, as he stood across the room from you, he knew that you were going to be trouble for him. What was it you had broken up with him about? He could scarcely remember, that dress you donned tonight was so distracting with its plunging neckline and shimmering fabric, it should be illegal to look that good.

He felt his throat dry up when you began walking towards him. Why were you coming to greet him? Oh right, this was a party about him and his success with his new ideas that would be used in the games in just a matter of weeks.

"Coryo! It's been a while." You beam reaching out to shake his hand

"Yes, it has. I didn't know you would be attending tonight." He said stiffly, feeling your eyes roam across his chosen suit for the evening. Suddenly, he found himself hoping you liked what you saw.

"Well, I'm sure you know I've taken over my mother's company so of course someone would have to come to represent it." You smile

Oh right. That. The soft clicks of cameras went off from somewhere, these photos between Gaul's prodigy and the girl, no woman, who was working to make sure the games would be seen from every angle would surely be published by a news outlet before the evening was over

"Your dress is exquisite." He compliments, trying to ignore the way your chest was taunting him.

"Thank you. I see you're still wearing roses on your lapel, some things don't change do they?" You say, following his stare to your chest.

Busted. You knew he was ogling you.

Coriolanus wanted to move this conversation and brush past the fact that he wanted to tear that damn dress off but he wasn't entirely sure how to reply to a statement like that. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to figure it out since an unwanted interruption cut in.

"I got you that drink you wanted, hon." A man cut in wrapping a meaty arm around your waist

Okay, who the hell was this?

"Oh thank you, I'm so thirsty." You smile and accept the dainty glass.

"Oh Coryo, this is Aesop." You introduce them, "Aesop, this is Cor-"

"Wow, Mr. Snow, I never thought I'd get to meet you! Your work with Dr. Gaul is rumored to be historic." Aesop gushes, cutting you off like he's some desperate fanboy.

Coriolanus finds himself nodding and pretending like Aesop's words mean a lot to him. Instead, Coriolanus lets him vomit his praises while he takes in the newest man who you deem worthy of your affections. He wasn't necessarily bad-looking, with a strong-looking build accompanied by sharp features and dark curly hair, Coriolanus wouldn't dare call him unattractive, in the face at least. Aesop's choice of outfit for tonight though told a different story. It was rather plain, just a simple black suit and a dark blue pocket square to try to add some color while attempting to match your dress which was simply hypnotic compared to that monstrosity of a suit.

"So what's next?"

Aesop was still talking to him? Someone needs to tell him when to stop talking.

"I'm sorry could you repeat your question I wasn't listening." He says honestly

"I was just asking what you had planned for your future. Surely the great Mr. Snow I hear about from my mother isn't just going to stop at being a game maker." Aesop says, clearly curious about those rumors about his possible presidential campaign.

Coriolanus doesn't miss the way his arm, which was once wrapped around your waist, drop so it rested on your hips and his hand was dangerously close to your ass. What a pig. He wishes he could be the one doing that, not the Capitol's worst-dressed man who didn't seem to even be worthy of being here let alone have you on his arm.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see. After all, Snow lands on top." He smirks and Aesop nods.

Aesop doesn't have much to say after that and Coriolanus makes no move to continue the conversation so an awkward silence falls over the conversation. The soft notes of the piano interrupt Coriolanus' judging of Aesop's outfit and he finds himself asking before he can discern whether or not this is a good idea.

"Would you like to dance? For old time's sake."

He doesn't expect you to say yes but you surprise him by placing your drink in Aesop's hands and pressing a kiss to the poorly dressed man's cheek. He doesn't miss the way you whisper something in Aesop's ear before taking his hand so he can lead you to the dance floor.

"I like your new hair. The curls were very nice but this new style makes you look very sophisticated." You say as he leads the dance

"What the hell are you doing?" He asks, genuinely curious as to what game you're playing

"Um, what are you talking about?" You ask a genuine look of surprise on your pretty face.

"You come in here dressed like this, with that....thing hanging off your arm, and you act like nothing is wrong between us and compliment me." He spits, upset that he seems to have been replaced so easily.

"What are you going on about now? You can't mean the breakup you caused, right?" You ask, a smug grin on your face

"I didn't break up with anyone." He defended, his face twisting with anger.

"Did Lucy Gray hit you in the head when you were with her? You seem a bit confused as to who ended our relationship." You say

Did you know what happened in the forest between them? Did you know that he nearly ran off with her and how she disappeared into the trees before he could get her? No, you couldn't possibly, there were no other witnesses other than him and Lucy. Unless that damn Covey of her was spreading rumors. He'd have to look into them soon.

"No, she has nothing to do with this. Where we are now is all on you." He says, stopping the dance, upset that you'd even think of mentioning her. Honestly, why would you even think that he was entangled with her, he was sure you heard the rumors of how they fell out.

"You're joking right. I still have that video evidence of you two kissing if you want to come back to mine and rewatch it, you clearly are not remembering correctly. I don't have any issues reminding you how you hurt me. " You say dropping his hand

"I remember just fine, thank you. I remember perfectly that you're the one who caused our end after you went crazy over something that wasn't even real." He said, upset that you weren't accepting what he was saying.

His eyes widen when you step towards him. You're so close he can smell that fruit-smelling perfume you love so much. From across the room, it might look like two old friends whispering funny secrets to each other.

"If it wasn't real then why did you chase her? I know about your little bribe that got you sent to twelve instead of eight. You can't manipulate me the way you do everyone else, Coryo."

And then you're walking away from him and back into the arms of that Aesop and his ugly fashion decisions. He could barely believe what had just transpired. He hadn't ever had a girl that walked away from him like that, he had thought he had become irresistible to so many, and yet here you were leaving him on the dance floor after insulting him.

Coriolanus certainly had a lot of nerve, you'd give him that. Not only was he completely deluded about what had happened between the two of you but he clearly couldn't accept you moving on from him. Of course, you knew he'd be like this. It had been only a week or so after Dr. Gaul had brought him back from District 12 that he started showing up at your family home, asking your mother, father, and even the maids if you would see him. You had instructed them all to turn him away and yet every time he showed up you'd wait and watch as he walked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

You had been right, your Coryo would come running back. You knew that Songbird of his would turn on him eventually. Rumors swirled around the inner circles of the Capitol that she had disappeared or perhaps she was dead. Despite the rumors that came in hushed whispers, you had a gut feeling Coriolanus had something to do with it. Did he scare the poor bird off? Or maybe harm her so she'd never return to Panem? Either way, no one had a clear story on her, but all you knew was that her dulcet voice would never charm Coriolanus again. With Lucy Gray gone, you knew exactly what you wanted, you were going to get Coriolanus Snow back.

Getting him back meaning revenge, of course. Why would any sane person want to get him back romantically?

You started with small things, things you knew would deepen his interest in you again. Some days you deliberately made sure you were in Dr. Gaul's lab talking to the crazy woman when he showed up after his university had ended for the day.

"When did you start working here?" He asks when he sees you in the lab for the first time

"Oh, Dr. Gaul and I are busy coordinating the camera angles and such. It's easier just to work here with her rather than send assistants from my office with information. More direct, you know."

He nods and takes his place at his own desk but you don't miss how he smiles to himself, undoubtedly happy you're here with him.

What a fool he's turned out to be.

Other times you'd make sure to wear red, the same shade as the coat he seemed to love so dearly, and then bump into him as he walked through the Department of War.

"You ought to look where you're walking." He says, after practically body slamming into him.

The force hadn't been enough to move him but you had ended up on the cold ground on your ass. What the hell did they feed him in District 12? A brick wall? No man should be that sturdy.

"Right, sorry about that." You smile taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet

You feel Coriolanus' eyes roam your outfit choice. A white button down paired with a deep red pencil skirt and tall heels, you must've looked good because he didn't say much and let you do the talking as you walked to Gaul's lab together, not letting go of his hand.

The cherry on top though, had to be the day you wore a low-cut shirt to a meeting about this year's games. You knew what made that boy tick and sure enough, his eyes were locked on your chest for the entire presentation on the new audio systems you were planning to get installed in the arena. He really hasn't changed much, has he?

"What are you doing after this?" He whispered next to you as Gaul displayed photos of whatever new terrors she had planned for this year's Tributes.

"Nothing interesting. I was planning on eating dinner and then perhaps taking a long bath." You say honestly

"Want to eat dinner with me?" He asked, a grin spread across his face

There was that boyish charm that had convinced you to enter a relationship in the first place.

"Sure. As long as you aren't the one cooking." You smile, knowing he was the worst chef in all of Panem.

Coriolanus stifles a laugh, which he tries to disguise as a cough when Dr. Gaul looks at him mid-sentence about the reproductive organs of whatever mutt she had drummed up.

"Oh trust me, I won't be. There's a nice place a couple of blocks away." He says

"It's a date." You smile

Coriolanus wasn't lying when he said the restaurant was nice. Pretty white tablecloths adorned the tables along with candles and delicate-looking roses atop each of them. A huge crystal chandelier was the real eye-catcher though, you loved the way it glimmered in the light.

"You know I was joking when I said this was a date, Coryo." You say as you wait for the hostess to help the man in front of you.

"Why? I'd love to go on another date with you." He smiles, bumping his shoulder with yours

"Right because our last stab at a relationship went so well." You roll your eyes

"I personally think we worked well together." He said confidently

"You're joking, right? You literally called me insane." You remind him

"Look, I don't want to fight. Let's just have a nice meal, okay?" He says, not denying his actions for once

"Yeah, okay." You agree, not missing the way his eyes roll.

The hostess is a bit overly eager to seat you both, she gushes over Coriolanus' coat and how sharp it makes him look, taking special care to not even spare a glance at you. Despite your annoyance, you don't miss how Coriolanus eats the attention up and flirts right back despite just proclaiming how he wants to go on another date with you. Honestly, where does this man even get the nerve?

"So what's good here?" You ask when she finally leaves but not until after she complimented his eyes and hair.

"You haven't been here? I come here often, the chicken dish they serve is particularly wonderful." He says, pretending like he wasn't interested in her.

"No, I haven't been here. Some of us work instead of spending their money on fancy chicken." You roll your eyes at his posh tone.

"Alright, sorry. Don't get all crazy on me again." He huffs, hiding his face behind his menu, pretending to stare at it when it only had 3 options on it.

Silence settles over the table as you pretend to weigh your options like you aren't going to take his recommendation and get the chicken. As you sit there and pretend to look at your menu, you glance at him and his perfect hair. His face is just as you remember it although it was a tad bit more stern than it was before he was sent to District 12. Whatever Lucy Gray did to him had sent him spiraling that was certain. A portly-looking man comes up to your table and pours you both glasses of wine before opening his mouth to speak.

"Mr. Snow, I am the manager of this restaurant and I'd like to personally extend a warm welcome to you and your guest tonight. If there's anything you need, please ask. You as well, ma'am."

You smile politely and nod as Coriolanus thanks the man and shakes his hand.

"You know this could be your life all the time if you wanted to give the two of us a try again." He says after dismissing the manager.

"What do you mean?" You ask confused, he already knew you had money of your own, definitely enough to attend a restaurant like this, it just wasn't your personal style.

"You'd never have to work again with me at your side. I'm sure you've heard that I'm planning to run for the presidency soon. I'm the favored candidate as well." He says confidently, reaching out so that your hands are linked across the table

"What makes you think that I would want to never work again. I enjoy running my company. It's my mother's blood sweat and tears that went into it." You defend, watching how his thumbs run over the backs of your hands. To anyone else, this might look like a romantic conversation between lovers

"I'm just saying you could be the First Lady of Panem one day with me and you'd never want for anything else. All you'd ever have to do is sit by my side." He smiles, almost kindly at you

"So you want to lock me up in some big house somewhere, just for yourself." You say, seeing through his honey-coated words

"If you're not interested then why the hell did you even accept my invitation to come here? Why have you been popping into Gaul's lab when I'm there, and don't think I haven't noticed that low-cut shirt of yours. Are you into parading yourself around like a common whore for everyone else to see? What would Aesop think?" He suddenly snaps, harshly grabbing onto your hands and squeezing.

There he was, the man of the hour. This is who Coriolanus Snow truly was, not whatever charming front he liked to wear around so many, including you. You smiled, that front, the wall he had built oh so perfectly, brick by brick had crumbled and the snake had finally come out to play.

"You think I'm a whore? How sweet of you, Coryo. You should know I love pet names in a relationship, that's why Aesop calls me hon." You say not blinking an eye as his nails dig into your skin.

You can tell your reaction isn't what he had planned because he recoils slightly and the pressure in your hands drops just a bit.

"If you weren't interested in me then why have you been acting like...some love-struck teen the past few weeks? Why the... eye-catching shirt today for a business meeting? You knew I was still interested in you so why are you rejecting me now?" He asks, clearly genuinely upset and curious

"Oh come on, Coryo I thought it would be obvious." You smirk

"Well, it isn't. And, you should know I hate lies now , so how about we agree to not lie to each other." He says, in desperate need of your answer.

You nod, and he releases your hands, satisfied with your submission

"Coryo, the reason I did all those things is quite obvious in fact, I'm sure that even little Lucy Gray would've been able to tell the reasons behind my actions."

You want to laugh at the way he squirms in his fancy chair when her name falls from your lips. While you once viewed her as some little homewrecker, you now saw her as an ally. The perfect ally to shatter this man's fragile ego. Whatever she had done to him, she got him good. Now, all you had to do was finish the job.

"You see, Coriolanus, I'm honestly surprised you didn't realize sooner, given you're so good at it yourself, by the way, don't think I don't know what really happened to Dean Highbottom or Sejanus Plinth. I know what you are, Coryo. Your sweet seductive words and pretty face can only get you so far." You let a smile stretch across your face, you were truly enjoying the climax of this game, "The reason behind my actions and my pretty shirt that you've been staring down all day and enjoying is simple really, it's just a little revenge. Revenge for how you made me feel when you went running off with Lucy Gray. It's revenge for whatever you may or may not have done to her in the forest of District 12. It's as plain and as simple as just a girl getting revenge on a past lover."

You stand from your seat and watch Coriolanus' eyes widen he finally realizes that you had been stringing him on for weeks ever since that party. You want to laugh at the way his hands had balled up into fists and his face reddened. Perhaps he'd start crying. Now that would be funny.

"Why?" He asks, unwilling to meet your eyes

"Why? Because it was fun of course. I've got my sweet revenge on a man who thought he was oh-so untouchable and you're feeling what I felt when you ran off with your Songbird. .I hope you have a wonderful evening, Coriolanus, " You explain smoothly, leaning down so your lips brush his ear, "See you in the lab tomorrow. I'll make sure to wear a shirt you'll like. "

You turn and gather your own belongings, a wide smile stretched across your face as you left him at that table. That shaken look that adorned Coriolanus' pretty face made one thing clear: you had got him back for every inch of pain he had ever caused you and Lucy Gray Baird. As you walked out of the door of that fancy restaurant he loved so much, one thought rang clear in your head, there truly was nothing better than revenge.

Part 3

Guys imagine being Coryo in this fic. First, you get dumped by your gf bc of your situationship. Then your situationship falls apart and you think you might be able to get back with your ex. So, you return home and think your ex wants you again since they're sending out signals, only to find out they've been leading you on for funsies. He's going through it.

Read the teaser for it here

If you want more Coryo content check out my masterlist. I plan to possibly release It Burns For You Part 3 on either December 3rd or 4th so stay tuned!

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[adoregojo]

⋆｡𖦹°‧ late night talk ➝ nagi seishiro ✶

can't believe i never wrote for nagi.. content ➠ fluff, fluff and more fluff. kinda short.. :'3

"am i sloppy looking?"

nagi light voice called, you weren't sure if it was a dream because it was around 3am and a half and your vision was blurry from heavy sleep. you opened your eyes a little to be met with your boyfriend facing the ceiling instead of you looking down and in deep thoughts.

"sei..it's too late to have a night talk." your voice was raspy and clearly still drowsy.

"but i wanna know, am i unattractive looking?" your boyfriend asked with his usual plant voice. even when nagi wasn't that good with showing emotions yet you always told him his eyes were an open window and tells enough, he was a little frown that you almost didn't notice.

"and since when did the nagi seishiro care about looks?" you stated, at least trying to lighten up the mode.

"I don't, i care what you think." he explained.

you were taken off by his words that causes the sleep to flow away. you never thought that the day will come and nagi ask you a question like that, you didn't remember saying anything about his looks specifically about him being dreary looking, his eyes remained dry and drained, like something was eating him alive that it didn't allow him to close his eyes. you were never hesitant to tell him he looked handsome showering him with compliments. so whats that about?

he still refuses to meet you eyes, was he afraid to see the look at your face? or hear the words that will come out next? even someone that lacked emotions like nagi could be sorrowful sometimes.

"well, if you asked me." you moved your body closer to him until you felt your shoulder touching his, you cupped his ear and whispered gently. "i think you're the only one ever."

nagi finally turned to lock his eyes with yours, his resting eyes were now slightly wider and his mouth as well, "really?" he blurted when his ears felt heart hot.the sudden change almost made you laugh, he looked so elated like a puppy that just got his treat.

you two were close, almost nose touching each other's. the closeness never bothered you neither will it now, you nodded with smile that made his heart flutter. he felt warm again.

"even if a if i wore that ugly sweater you hate with passion?" he asked playfully.

"I'd still think you're the only guy ever." you admitted.

"even with that hideous cowboy hat?"

"yes sei, even with that hideous cowboy hat."

"wow, you must reallly love me." he said mischievously and you roll your eyes playfully. "shut up, and i also love you for what you have in here." you patted him on his left chest, pointing to his heart.

"....my chest?"

"your heart, dumbass!"

"ooohh." he shook his understandment. you couldn't help but chuckle a bit, seriously how is this guy considered a genius?

your laughter made his black and white world into something colourful, melting his iced heart and colouring his unoccupied soul. he never thought having someone to think of him more than a genius soccer player would make him feel this alive.

damn, he was absolute smitten wasn't he?

"did that satisfy you? can we go back to sleep now?" he turned to you now sluggish figure, barely able to keeo one eye opened.

"i wanna hold you." he said as you turned around giving him you back, he took your silence as an approval to warp his arms around stomach holding you as close as possible, his massive body taking over yours. it didn't hurt to give you a couple of kisses before sleeping, right?

"quite the kisses..i wanna sleep sei." you mumbled while his lips kept smashing against every inch of your face.

"just one more."

he didn't stop at one, or two, or three..

"i only have eyes for you too.." he doubted you heard that.

love nagi..have a great day everyone └(^o^)┘

[f10werfae]

Barefoot and Pregnant

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Shy!Pregnant!Wife!reader

summary: Henry and his cockdrunk wife go through an emotional love-making experience, after being pressured by her friends to give her husband a ‘hall pass’ because of her growing body (DILF!Henry) (Dom!Henry)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated🫶 Disclaimer 18+

Lumberjack Masterlist, Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Baby bun? Why are you cryin’? Is there somethin’ wrong with our miracle?” Henry rushed placing both of his hands onto his precious wife’s four month bump: he had come home to see her sobbing her eyes out into her pregnancy pillow. “I-I have your b-birthday present, h-here” She cried handing him a crumpled piece of paper, “A fuckin hall pass? The fahk do I need this for?”

- A few hours ago -

“So Y/n, I know your man’s birthday is coming up soon, what are ya getting him?” Chloe smirked putting down her beer, she wasn’t really someone Y/n would hangout with, but considering she was friends with Stephanie it was kind of obligatory. Y/n shuffled uncomfortably as all eyes panned to her, this brunch with her girls had taken a weird turn, with them questioning her sex life and very clearly overstepping private boundaries. Y/n on the other hand was adamant that she would spill nothing, ultimately leading to the other women becoming increasingly annoyed.

“U-Uh I was t-thinkin’ of givin’ him the s-sweater I made him, a-and cookin’ him a m-meal” She whispered, pouting when she heard the others giggling and scoffing at her gift idea, her hand falling to her baby bump for comfort. Her little gemstone always had her back. Henry always loved her knitted goods, in fact most of his jumpers were ones she had made, and he never left home without a packed lunch from his woman.

“Girl, just cause you’re preggers doesn’t mean you can’t spoil him! Get him somethin’ better than some lousy knitted shit” Jenny giggled nudging Chloe playfully; Y/n’s hands now started to tremble, she had finally gotten used to nothing but praise thanks to Henry, but now that she was back in this toxic environment she could feel her anxiety start to swirl at the pit of her stomach. She wanted her Henry, and she wanted him now.

“B-but he usually likes m-my meals and h-he asked for a j-jumper” She whispered pursing her lips and clasping her hands together over her stomach, the lemonade she ordered now tasting like absolute poison on her tongue. “Why don’t you get him like a subscription to beer or somethin-“

“OR A HALL PASS? Omg a hall pass would be so good, because you’re obviously pregnant you should give him one, poor guy will need it” Chloe snickered interrupting Stephanie, “A-a hall pass? Whats t-that?” Y/n questioned tilting her head to the side like an adorable puppy, her hand softly rubbing over her stomach, her little miracle’s kicks following her hands every move.

“Basically girl, now that you’re pregnant, every man finds it harder to fuck his wife; let’s be honest it’s a very natural thing. A hall pass is like giving him a ‘get out of jail card’ like letting him fuck someone else for a night or something” She explained placing another chip into her mouth, as if she wasn’t just excusing cheating on Y/n. “B-But I don’t want him t-to” The smaller woman sniffled feeling tears already start to collect in her eyes, did Henry really find her unattractive now that her body was changing?

“I mean come on, are you really going to give him a lousy sweater? Here if it makes you uncomfortable for him to fuck someone else, I’m single!” Chloe joked motioning her hands to pretend she was sucking someone off, the rest of the girls giggling along with her, except for Stephanie who was disgusted by the whole exchange. If anything she was the only friend Y/n really enjoyed hanging out with, and the only friend Henry trusted her with.

“You guys need to knock it off and stop being disgusting shits, come on Y/n Henry texted me to get your somethin’ from the pharmacy” Stephanie grunted pulling Y/n up from her seat, scowling when Chloe tucked in a napkin into Y/n’s purse that said “Hall pass” followed by her own phone number. A poor sniffling Y/n, felt her own emotions starting to shuffle all over the place, her hormones truly had her. With her hand tightly clasped in Stephanie’s the both of them got into her car, when she finally let out a massive sob, wrecking through her smaller body; Stephanie reaching over giving her hugs and whispers to calm her down.

“I-I D-Do you t-think h-he should get a H-hall pass?” Y/n questioned wiping her eyes and nose onto a hankie, her hands smoothing over her stomach, her baby must have realised she was upset; the little thing was wriggling around like crazy almost as if it was trying to provide its momma comfort. “I mean I was gonna suggest beer or a razor, Chloe is just a bitch and insanely jealous because you two are an absolute power couple. Plus it’s not exactly a secret how much Henry is in love with ya” Stephanie smiled booping her on the nose, sighing in relief at the sight of a smile on Y/n’s face.

“B-but maybe he does find me u-ugly now, h-he even offered to shave me down there” She pouted looking down, “Girl he did it because he wanted you to feel more comfortable, you’ve always been the trim typa woman”

“I guess so, s-so what do we need at the pharmacy?”

“Nothin’ I jus’ wanted outta there, Ya sure you’ll be alright girl?”

“Y-yeah H-hen gets home soon a-anyway” After seeing Stephanie go off, Y/n bolted for the bedroom, even after all the comforting words from her friend; she still couldn’t help but feel unwanted and ugly. Would Henry find her pretty again if she let him fuck Chloe? Fuck, just the thought of it haunted Y/n’s thoughts, her man had always told her that he was only for her, and that she was only for him. There is no Chloe in the equation.

- Back To Present -

“A fuckin hall pass? The fahk do I need this for?”

Henry growled holding the napkin and seeing some random number beside it. “I-I” Y/n couldn’t even get words out without sobs shaking her whole body, leading Henry to pull her onto his lap as he sat against the headboard, one hand cupping her face gently while the other cupped his baby miracle. “Calm down sweetpea, tell daddy what happened to your n’ our miracle today”

“W-well we all went t-to that cafe b-by the s-square” She stopped, crying again

“S’okay sugar pie, breathe with me, m’right here and m’not lettin’ ya go” He whispered kissing her cheek softly, the hand one her stomach sneaking around and grabbing a cheek full of ass, making her squeak and gasp. “C-Chloe said t-that because i-i’m pregnant, you wouldn’t find-find me pretty a-anymore, a-and that I should l-let ya b-be with her for a-a night” She explained nuzzling into his palm, his thumb running over her cheek affectionately.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy, you are the g’damn sexiest thing on this planet sweetpea, my sweet gorgeous wife. You’re takin’ care of our little baby in there, how could ya not be more beautiful? Ya shoulda jus told them we still fuck every night like rabbits-“

“Stoppp, s’embarrassing, b-but then why’d you offer t-to help me shave?”

“Cause baby bun, I know you’re not a grower, n’ I had an idea for ya”

“o-oh I see” She said now realising that her thoughts were jus messin’ with her, “I get so worried cus a forget how fast ya mind is runnin’, ya gotta keep me in the loop sugar, cause you’re mine” He explained leaning in and kissing her wet lips, his hands grasping her waist, kneading her skin.

“I-I know, m’sorry, she j-jus really freaked m-me out. C-cause you’re m-mine and I don’t w-want ya l-lookin’ at anyone else” She explained, Henry smirking at her shy nature, the way she shuffled closer ok his lap, her arms clasping around his neck. “Now ya understand how I get baby, we just need each other n’ no one else” He said lowly, his lips pulled up into an almost eerie smile, as he then stood up from the bed and walked them both towards the bathroom.

Nodding at his words she giggled at the cold feeling of the bathroom counter underneath her thighs, just letting her wild man of a husband rip off her underwear, his electric trimmer already laid out on the side. “W-what was your i-idea?” Her hips bucked as his fingers rubbed her clit slightly before turning on the trimmer, if her stomach wasn’t already huge she would have looked herself. “You’ll see baby bun, jus ta remind ya, of me” He laughed skilfully moving the trimmer around, with Y/n giggling every time he leant forward and kissed her inner thighs or her stomach, he just could not keep his hands off her.

“W-will you help me, r-rinse off after?” With her lips puckered out waiting for a kiss, Henry stood up, letting her suck on his tongue for a few seconds before pulling away teasingly: he had already planned on rinsing her off himself anyway. Lifting her onto the shower bench, he rinsed off her freshly shaven pussy, clearly proud at the thing he had engraved onto her nestle of curls. The letter ‘H’

“What ya think baby, are ya mine or what?” He sang snapping a picture of her pussy and showing it to her, it wasn’t unusual that during sex he would simply take pictures of him leaking out of her, or the faces she would make whenever he was cumming right inside her warm centre. “ I-I love it, m’all yours” She giggled watching him pat her dry with his towel, following him as he led her back into their bedroom, softly setting her on top of the array of cushions and blankets.

“Who made this blanket baby?” He said holding up a woollen baby blue blanket, “M-me” She whispered watching him pull up her dress over her body, leaving her body naked in front of him, his precious masterpiece. “Mhm ya made it for us, n’ our little gemstone, our little family. No one else” He grumbled kissing up her stomach, smiling every time his baby kicked up at him, he couldn’t wait to find out the gender in a weeks time.

“Our little family” She whispered, trying to hold back a smile as Henry peppered hundreds of kisses up her body, his hands grasping at her growing tits, kissing at her nipples and watching them harden. Every night Henry would treat her to a nice breast massage, claiming it would help the milk come in faster, now was that true? Y/n didn’t know but any excuse to have him touch her was a welcomed one. Frankly Henry didn’t know either.

“I’m not gonna fuck you tonight sugar pie, m’ gonna make love to my gorgeous pregnant wife, who is the most amazin’ woman av’ ever seen” He whispered directly into her ear, kissing the shell of it as he felt her hands splayed out on his chest. “R-really?”

“Mhm going to take it nice n’ slow, love on every single parta you, n’ show ya jus’ how much ya mean to me” Looking into her widened doe eyes, he gave her an eskimo kiss, then let their lips meet in a slow, long passionate kiss. Their lips simply feeling each other, their tongues gently massaging each other as she whimpered against him. “Love you so much, my baby bun, all obedient n’ beautiful; my wife, mother of my baby”

“I-I love you too, can’ wait to m-meet our little m-miracle” She hiccuped pushing forward for their lips to meet again, whining when Henry pulled away and turned her body so he could spoon her, placing a soft pillow underneath her bump to make sure she was comfortable. “Ya comfy momma?” “Mhm, miss holdin’ y-you though” She whispered, gasping when she felt Henry’s hand intertwined with hers, his head settled into the crook of her neck; his warm breath fanning her neck to make sure she knew he was with her. He was staying.

He whispered that he was momentarily going to let go of her hand to prepare her for him, his hands lifting her leg up slightly, to allow his hand to venture in massage her slick set of lips gently; her soft gasps and whimpers causing her to nuzzle back into his chest. His athletic shorts were easily shrugged off, revealing that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath, his cock already slipping itself through her folds. Y/n whined opening and closing her hand, clearly wanting to hold his again, smiling in relief as he held onto hers tightly.

Both of them breathing out as she took him inch by inch, bottoming out inside her as his balls rested against her ass, with Y/n holding Henry’s hand close to her chest; kissing his knuckles every so often. “Love this pretty pussy a’ yours, always so welcoming n’ warm, all for your husband isn’t it?”

“A-all for you, m-my husband” She whispered softly bucking her hips to let him know he could start going, and within seconds his hips started rolling against hers, slowly and deeply reaching every inch inside of her; dare I say he even poked her womb a few times with how deep he was going. Taking his hand he reached under his pillow and retrieved his phone, angling it in front of Y/n as he kissed her neck sloppily, taking a photo of her eyes rolled to the back of her head; her mouth agape and drooling onto Henry’s arm under her head.

“My pretty girl, you’re doin’ so well for me, so prouda ya” He whispered dropping his phone, his hand landing onto her tits, grasping both of them in the middle of her chest, rubbing both nipples in a circular direction; his cock stuffed into her velvety walls, his rhythm staying the same. “F-feel you so deep, t-too good” She breathed out cupping her stomach which was now bouncing along with his thrusts, which caught Henry’s eyes as he then cupped the bottom of her stomach. That photo was definitely going to be his phone wallpaper

“Who knocked you up? Who got you this full n’ swollen?”

“Y-you did daddy, f-fuck, feel so full” She moaned, his hands rubbing up and down her stomach lovingly, the fact that she was holding his baby just made her that more irresistible to him; she was taking care of the perfect mix of them both, their baby miracle. “You dare call yourself ugly, you wouldn’t call our baby ugly would ya? So why would call its home ugly? You’re protectin’ them with this beautiful haven inside ya baby, you’re amazin’” He whispered, his hands flowing down to her pussy, feeling the pattern of the H, his fingers found her precious little clit, rubbing the sensitive button until he felt her clench around his length. “These beautiful tits are gonna feed and nourish our baby, n’ maybe me sometimes, how can you say they’re not sexy as fuck; how you’re able to do all these things naturally, as my woman” He joked nipping her shoulder, feeling her giggle and her hole clench at the idea of her own husband sucking on her hardened nipples.

“Can feel you gettin’ close honey” He whispered watching her face turn to the side, her hand reaching around to his head, her lips pushing his into an open mouthed tongue kiss; his thumb lovingly wiping her drool covered chin, his thrusts not letting down. “b-baby, beautiful, f-family” She said clearly cockdrunk, muttering out words that she had heard from her husband, “Yeah baby that’s right, now do ya think ya can let go for daddy?” He cooed letting her nuzzle her head back into her cushion, his smile softening at her smile and at the way her hand instantly reached to hold his.

“Am’ gonna cum H-Hen”

“S’okay sugar babe, m’ gonna cum too, together okay?”

Henry picked up the pace just for her, her whines and whimpers getting louder until finally he felt her creamy onto his cock, his own juices spurting inside her; causing her to breathe out happily at the warm stuffy feeling inside of her. “I love you, don’t ever fuckin’ doubt that, you have a nasty thought in your pretty head? You tell me n’ i’ll sort it out” He growled kissing her cheek as he turned her to lay on her back, with him propped up on his elbow as he traced over her stomach. “What are ya t-tracin’?”

“Hearts, so our mini baby bun knows what love looks like” He chuckled finishin’ his tracin’ looking up to his wife’s eyes, with her getting all giddy and smiley at his confession. “I-I already love ‘em so much, g-gon dress them so p-pretty. N’ w-we can play i-in the fields w-with them” She giggled playing with his fingers which were on her chest, the post sex haze doing nothing but accentuating their love for each other. “Pretty like their gorgeous momma” Henry whispered pecking her lips once more before he remembered something.

“Now how about I show ya somethin’, ya don’t havta walk, ill carry ya” He whispered as she nodded, the both of them trodding to the end of the long hallway towards his work room, her eyes widening at the site of two wooden bassinets sitting at the corner of the room. “Y-you made this for mini bun?! B-but why two?” She wondered looking up at his deep blue eyes, “m’ preparin’ for the next one bunny”

“t-two babies” She giggled whispering to herself at the idea of her big gruff husband handling two tiny tots at once, watching him dote on them like the protective man he was. “Mhm m’ gonna keep ya barefoot n’ pregnant, like ya this way baby bun, all swollen an’ big for me” He gruffed nuzzling his rough bearded cheek against her soft one, “Told ya, you don’t need those stupid friends a’ yours when you’ve got me sugar, m’all ya need and our mini bun right ‘ere”

———

PSA: Hope this is all good! I wanted to show a more emotional and loving side to their relationship 🫶 But still sprinkle a bit of dark!manipulative!Henry

library blog of works @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist (not accepting, use blog): @drewsuncrustables (thank you for the ‘H’ idea) @they-call-me-arte @helenaellie @pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @bookfrog242 @alina02 @alexxavicry @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @queensgirl718 @sweetybuzz25

Hope you all enjoy this instalment xoxo

[venuscnjunctpluto]

Astro pt 3.

Credit: @venuscnjunctpluto

(I’m on spring break and literally have 50 other things I should be doing but we’re back at it again folks😝)

Venus conjunct saturn women 🤝 men w mommy issues

The worst moon square moon beef I’ve seen is Taurus and Aquarius. Both won’t let it go like the Taurus moon thinks they’re making sense while the Aquarius moon wants to seem unbothered it’s a mess.

Taurus Venus people are so beautiful (ex: Victoria Monet, Ariana Grande, Leighton Meester, Cillian Murphy, Matthew Gray Gubler, plus my mom💕)

There are three types of Aquarius risings: one who walks around in pajamas and chokers, one who is legit a model, and the one who wears graphic t shirts and multiple finger rings)

Also I notice a lot of aqua rising women love dressing masculine (ex: Zendaya, Nicki Minaj, and Aaliyah) if you see a girl w her pants sagging with her hat turned backwards w every color of the rainbow on. just know she’s a aqua rising.

Sag Venus women are bisexual ex: Erica Mena, Nicki Minaj, and me lol

Most kpop stans have libra placements and this is coming from a libra moon

Underdeveloped Men w Fixed sign placements are such incel. Leo esp mars when their ego gets hurt they cannot take it. Aquarius thinks they’re too good and smart for women so they can’t understand why no one wants to be around them. Do I even need to explain Taurus and Scorpio?��

Pieces Venuses are down bad ex: the men crave a manic pixie dream partner and when they can’t live up to the natives fantasy; they cheat. The women are usually loyal but they are blind asf and will neglect and abandon their relationships w others just for their partner who may or may not be trash. On a good note; they are very very very giving in relationships and so sweet but just because y’all can give doesn’t mean you have to constantly.

Brent faiyaz and Jungkook have Scorpio Mars😮‍💨 I don’t know what it is but I wanna date one so bad. What’s y’all experiences?

Certain signs and placements date people w similar charts. Like I notice Taurus suns usually date eachother bc who else is about to put up w them (just kidding…no I’m not🙂) also Scorpio placements (ex: future and Ciara, Megan fox and machine gun Kelly, Karruche and Chris brown…these are terrible examples😭)

As far as Venus conjunct ascendant synastry…I honestly only feel the tension when I’m the ascendant. Whenever my Venus conjuncts someone’s asc it doesn’t really move me like I don’t think they’re unattractive I just don’t really gaf. Their personalities are fun because my sag Venus and mars knows they can take a joke. I think Scorpio/8th house doesn’t really care too much about looks and appearances. In fact I notice Scorpio Venus men view the people they date as beneath them in some way and they do that to feel comfortable as if that person can’t get better and leave or cheat.

I always tell people I don’t have a type which I kinda don’t aesthetically but: Virgo rising, moon-Pluto or Scorpio moons, Virgo mars, Taurus suns w aqua moons, air venuses or mars, libra risings, Scorpio mars😚

Blueface and Chrisean have Venus square pluto synastry. When I say they are the most exaggerated example of this synastry it’s crazy. She clearly seems trauma bonded and believes she’s truly in love with this man (Venus). While he’s using her for money (pluto) and maintaining control over her at all times. That’s another thing w Venus Pluto synastry the venus person looks worse in the public eye because we’re always outwardly vulnerable (the good and bad) while Pluto doesn’t show just how insane they are overtly. But he’s the jealous one because peep how mad and aggressive he gets when she gets any sort of attention outside of him (ex: when Drake followed her and he twisted it to be related to him) Pluto really thinks they OWN the Venus person like that Brent lyric “they only wanna fuck with you cause they know I fuck with you” that’s their mentality. (They’re both physically abusive to eachother and need to breakup asap)

Also everyone talks about how much she’s changed for the worst since she got w him. Her missing tooth and getting multiple tattoos of that man. I’ve seen this guy w his Venus square his ex’s Pluto and he looked terrible while w her and when they broke up he got hisself together. My conjunction synastry took me from wearing bold colors to black for months😭

Sag placements esp Venus or mars men are bow legged asf

Lana Del Rey’s catalog is the epitome of 8th house stellium. Constant changes, a certain loneliness that doesn’t go away, learning and growing, but also never giving up hope.🦋

Cancer mars men and their pregnancy fetish…lil durk has like 5,000 kids and his ex India said that she wanted another baby because of how affectionate he was when she was pregnant.

A lot of football/soccer player have air mars. (Ex: mason mount, kylian mbappe, phil foden)

Women w sun-Neptune, Uranus, pluto may have terrible relationships w men bc of their relationship w their father

Aqua, sag, and cap placements are funny asf😭 I’m one of them and I don’t even try but people are always dying laughing around me

I’ve been in two “lust” triangles and both pairs had one Taurus placement friend and one Scorpio placement friend. The Taurus friend (literally both of them had birthday two days apart) liked me and had their Scorpio friend (one was a Scorpio Venus and the other was a Scorpio mars) spy on me or maybe they just offered😭 long story short the Scorpio friend ended up liking me in both situations I just✨felt✨ it. Taurus and Scorpio are both sneaky and possessive they have opposite energy and it’s very likely they could like the same people. It gets complicated because Scorpio is more likely to keep their crush a secret which can cause unintended overlap.

Capricorn mars: I don’t get mad like I rarely get upset😐

Us all hearing them yell behind closed doors and come out like nothing happened:

[yuikomorii]

I love your blog because it's an ode to Yui <3 and I love your posts, but I'm sorry, I can't agree with the diaboys and what you mention about Yui's beauty -features-, when I see her I can't help but think that she is one of the most beautiful, aesthetic and feminine anime/game girls because of her clothes and color palette, and that the joke of her beauty lies in that she is beautiful, but simple and just a little above average, taking into account that Japanese women don't have blonde hair and magenta eyes, I understand the thing about Europeans, but I honestly think that diaboys have very high and somewhat sexist standards regarding how women should look, I mean, Yui is barely 17 years old and they are vampires who have lived in the makai, right?

// I’m gonna hold your hand when I tell you this…

Yui is actually confirmed to be EUROPEAN, and implied to be Romanian. 😭😭😭😭😭😭

In my region a lot of girls resemble Yui, which isn’t a bad thing and doesn’t make anyone automatically unattractive. Yui’s features, apart from her eye color which is just for aesthetic purposes, are very common for a European girl (medium-length blonde hair, fair skin, round eyes, short eyelashes, etc). Personally, I really like that about her design because it makes her look friendly and more approachable.

But I understand that might be influenced by cultural differences. When I traveled to other countries, I saw stunning WOC every day, and maybe if they came to Europe, they might feel similarly about European women. I think this happens because we often find beauty in features we don’t see daily.

I’m pretty sure the Diaboys’ high standards come from being raised around stunning people, to the point where they believe that’s just the norm. It’s not that they’re necessarily sexist, they actually just don’t really like anyone, lol. There are even times when one Diaboy will call another Diaboy ugly, and while they probably don’t mean it 100%, they just want to get on each other’s nerves. From what I’ve seen in other otome games and anime, joking about someone’s looks isn’t meant to be taken as seriously as it might be in the West, unless, of course, the character is clearly shown to be genuinely hurt by it.

[colormepurplex2]

On Wings of Mist & Memories | Oath Breaker

↳  DragonRider!Jungkook x FieldScribe!f.Reader ⤜ Enemies to Lovers, Exiled Royalty, High Fantasy ⤜ Rating: MA | angst ⤜ WC: 11,632 ⚠️ Crass language, talk of war, blood, mild violence, flashback minor character death, mild sexual tension, suggestive inner thoughts

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Glossary Mave - dragon rider who can wield magic, tethered to the soul of their dragon when they bond (death for both if one dies) Psion - infinite memory/recall Reaver - a dragon that can wield magic, tethered to the soul of the rider they bond (death for both if one dies) Noks - infantry soldiers, humanoids who can enter berserk/rage mode Rider - regular dragon rider, no magic, uses bows or scouts Brute - riderless dragon, usually wild and very dangerous Wielder - magic user, no dragon needed Signis - the designated/specific type of power someone wields Helnite - metal ore that can cut off magic from its user

It’s not cold in the Andos Forest like in the mountains. In fact, it’s the opposite with sweltering heat and thick humidity. It reminds you of growing up in the farming villages near the Southern Garrison. Stretches of open farmland, open to the blaze of the sun and humidity coming off the ocean to the south. You haven’t missed the constant stickiness coating your skin or how breathing became harder as the sun peaked in the sky.

The constant trickle of sweat down your body and the cottony feeling in your mouth makes it hard to sleep. Your clothes are fur-lined and thick, even your boots, which are making your feet ache from how warm they are. You’d give anything for a drink of water or for Shadowsword to come back and finish shredding your clothing—the heat is clearly making you delirious.

“Goris, you awake?” you ask, trying to blink the sweat from your eyes.

You haven’t heard anything from him ever since Shadowsword left, and that was hours ago, you’re sure. The tent fell into silence, you and Goris both closing in on yourselves. Whether lost in thought—you—or trying to compartmentalize the whole-body ache from getting tortured—Goris—there wasn’t much to be said then.

But, now, after trying and failing to get some sleep, you want to use what little time you have left before Shadowsword returns—there’s no telling how long that’ll be, could be hours more, could also be just a few minutes—to your advantage. It’s hard to gauge the passage of time or where the sun and moon are without being able to see the sky. The canvas of the tent is thick, and the overhead mage lights neither dimmed nor brightened with indication.

You watch as Goris’ chest rises and falls with a deep breath before a sigh whistles between his swollen, blood-crusted lips. “Hard to sleep with the pounding in my head. Quite certain that asshole concussed me.”

“Thank you…for what you did. For trying to keep him away from me.”

He grunts. “You stopped him from pounding my face further.” His jaw pops as he works it like he’s trying to ease the tension from the swelling. “It was the least I could do.”

Silence fills the space again, making you feel awkward as you form your next sentence. “How do you know him?” There is no need to specify who the ‘him’ is. With the way Goris shifts uncomfortably under his shadow bonds, you can tell he was expecting you to question him about it eventually.

You’re not sure he will answer you with the pregnant pause he allows to settle between you. The swelling in his face is getting worse, his left eye is completely swollen shut, and there is a weird bend in his nose that wasn’t there before. You watch as he continues to shift, flexing his fingers where they rest on his thighs and rotating his ankles, the heel of his boot drawing ruts in the dirt. 

Goris has always been kind to you, if a bit standoffish in a broody sort of way. You’re sure he fancied General Marvick on a deeper level than just as his commanding officer. He’s not an unattractive man. His auburn hair is braided tight to his skull and dangles down his back. His eyes have an amber hue, not quite brown but not orange either. You think, in another life, one without wars and violence, he and Marvick would have made a great couple.

Thoughts of Poli have you pressing your lips into a thin line. Now isn’t the time to linger on thoughts of the dead. You need answers, information, something you can store in your arsenal for later use. The more you know about Shadowsword—the exiled fucking Prince of the Golden Kingdom of Bolas—the more chance you have of getting out of here alive and with at least some of your dignity intact.

“I taught him how to wield a blade,” Goris finally says, his voice low but carrying to you in the quiet of the tent. “When he was just a boy, I was the weapons master at the palace. I was there the day his Signis manifested, and the day he bonded with his dragon. I’ve known him for a long, long time.”

That explains the familiarity Shadowsword showed Goris. It’s clear they had a bond. You don’t work so close with someone for an extended period and not grow close to them. Your heart threatens to squeeze tight as you think about your own time spent so close to someone—you shove that feeling away again before it can take hold.

“How do we get out of here?”

Goris grunts a laugh that turns into a pain-filled cough. His breaths wheeze as his coughing tapers off. “I don’t think there is any getting out. Not for me, at least.” The words are spoken solemnly. “Look at me,” he commands, embodying the commander that he is. “No matter what he does, you remember your training. You may not have learned swords and shields, girl, but you can fight just as well without them. Use your words, mind, and body if you have to…you’ve been trained for this. Don’t let him win.”

The one amber-hued eye you can see glints in the mage lights as he stares you down until you give one quick downward jerk of your chin. May the wings of death be swift if ever I let loose my tongue. You repeat the Psion mantra that was hammered into you from day one of your training. Goris is correct. You may not know how to swing a sword, but you know the mind is a far sharper weapon anyway.

You have little time to think about that or ask Goris for more information. A gruff voice draws your attention to the tent's flap momentarily before it’s drawn aside, and Shadowsword steps in. It’s a bit surprising to see him not wearing his armor. You were sure the gold and iron were what made him seem larger than life, but you now realize he’s just as intimidating without it.

Black hair, wet from sweat or a bath, covers his forehead and curls around his ears. It’s not slicked back like yesterday when he took his helmet off. Maybe it was the shock, but you don’t remember seeing the small metal jewelry adorning his mouth or the whole sleeve of ink covering his right arm. He looks like an entirely different—but no less dangerous—person.

He’s wearing a light linen top with the sleeves ripped off and the ties at the neck undone enough that you can clearly see the shadowy depth between the muscles of his pecs. As he moves into the small space, the shirt breezes open enough that you catch a glimpse of black curling from his left peck to over his shoulder. But, the fabric bunches and moves as he crosses his arms over his chest, obscuring it before you can decipher what it is.

“Good morning, friends.” The cheerfulness in his voice doesn’t fit the way he’s standing there, feet shoulder-width apart, arms banded over his chest, hips slightly tilted forward. His stance screams predator, while his tone offers up what you know is undoubtedly a false sense of security. You can already tell it will be tricky to navigate around this man. He’s cunning, dangerous, and completely removed from what you’re used to—that much is clear.

“You don’t get to call me friend, Jeon, not after everything you’ve done,” Goris harumphs.

Shadowsword swings around to face him. You can’t see his expression, but the confusion on Goris’ face makes you curious. “Have you ever thought to stop and ask any questions, Rit? Or are you just mindlessly following and believing anything and everything that comes out of my father’s mouth? You know, I always thought you were the smart one, someone that might at least be curious enough to do his due diligence regarding people he cares about. But, maybe you never did care as much as it seems.” Those thick, broad shoulders push up in a shrug before he reaches back and pulls two shiny, metal, circular collars from where they were tucked against the small of his back, hooked into a holster you hadn’t noticed before.

“I-is that…are those Helnite collars?” Goris chokes out the question, his confusion replaced with wild panic.

“Just a precaution, Rit. You understand, don’t you?”

Before Goris can respond, Shadowsword crouches before him and swiftly clamps one of the collars around his neck. The sound he makes can only be described as a wail of mourning. He thrashes so violently against the tent pole that the whole structure sways as he continues to bellow and curse.

“Did he say Helnite?” you whisper. Despite how loud Goris is, Shadowsword still seems to hear you. He pivots where he’s crouched before Goris. Those dark, calculating eyes appraise you. A new wave of sweat breaks out across your brow and down your neck, competing with the chills working their way down your body as that look alone confirms your fear.

Helnite is the only thing in all of Filasdurn that can cut off a magic user from their power. The glittery silver ore is mined in Lork, the land where dragons supposedly originate from. No one knows more than that, as travel to and from Lork is forbidden, thanks to a centuries-old peace treaty between them and The Golden Kingdom of Bolas.

When Helnite is smelted down, it can be forged into weapons or imprisonment implements. When formed into a completed circle, it acts as an instant castration of any and all power. The use of it on innocent humans has been outlawed for decades. It’s been limited to being only used on criminals or Brutes in the wild that need to be caught for gentling so they can bond.

You’ve never been subjected to Helnite, with it being outlawed and you not being a criminal and all that, but you’ve seen the effects of it. It’s different for each magic wielder. The magic between a Mave and their Reaver is soul-deep—which is why when one dies, the other does, too. Right now, with that collar around his neck, Goris has been completely cut off from Ripley. It’s been explained to you that it feels like a piece of your soul is literally missing, the pain immense and full of dark thoughts—death without dying. It can leave lasting, unseeable scars, even after it’s removed and the connection re-established.

As for other magic users, such as yourself, it’s said to feel like—the collar snaps into place, your mind instantly goes blank, and you cannot finish your internal thoughts. Your chest rises and falls in rapid succession, the air wheezing from your lungs. The metal burns where it touches your skin, setting an instant ringing in your ears. A thick, cottony feeling pulses through your head, like the beginnings of a migraine.

“You’re going to kill her!” Goris yells.

“Is it too much?” Shadowsword asks. His voice is soft, almost sounding like he really cares.

You blink to clear your vision, and he slowly comes into focus. There is concern on his face as he kneels on one knee beside you. He’s close enough that you can smell the soft, clean scent of soap coming off of him. If your arms weren’t bound to your sides by his shadows, you wouldn’t have to reach far to touch his face. The sudden urge to smooth your fingers over his furrowed brow has your fingers twitching.

“If I say ‘yes’,” you have to pause to think, “will you take it off?” Your voice warbles, and your tongue feels too thick. It’s weird to have to think of how to form words. The effects of the Helnite impact everything. For someone like you, that means all your cognitive functions as well. It’s a weird sensation, feeling like your thoughts must slide through thick mud before they can form.

“Helnite isn’t typically used on Psions,” he says as if you don’t already know that. Though, you’re not sure if you do? Everything feels so uncertain, like you know nothing about anything but also still know everything all at once. It’s disorienting. “I was told it should be okay. And it’ll only be until you agree to cooperate.”

Your lips twitch, and you open them to respond, just for them to slide closed again. You shake your head instead, trying to tell him that won’t ever happen. He’ll get no help from you.

“You’re going to kill her!” Goris says again, his voice cracking, hoarse from screaming.

“Ripley is fine! I’m not going to kill your Reaver. I wouldn’t do that.” Shadowsword glares over his shoulder at the still-struggling man.

“Not Ripley, you idiot. Her!” He jerks his head in your direction. “That’ll destroy her! Helnite shouldn’t be used on a Psion of her caliber! She’s as good as dead if you keep it on!” Goris yells, sucking in air between his raging words. He’s still thrashing, rattling the canvas all around. “She’ll become a shell of a human, suck the life right out of her! She needs her magic more than any of us!”

Shadowsword’s glare softens out to a slight frown. “There’s no real proof of that. The archives are just full of speculation.” The roar of a dragon rings through the air somewhere outside the tent, and Goris screams along with it. “Fucking hells,” Shadowsword curses, pushing to his feet and throwing back the tent's flap. “Get her back under the shield, now!”

“W-what?” you try to ask them what’s going on, but the question only comes out as a single word instead of a complete sentence.

Just as abruptly as it began, Goris’ and the dragon’s cries stop. Thick pants fill the air, Goris trying to heave in air. His face is a deep scarlet, nearly purple from how long he was screaming without breathing. “Fuck. You.” Tears cascade down his ruddy cheeks, and his mustache quivers as he chokes back sobs. “You’ll pay for this, Jeon.”

This is the second time Goris has used Shadowsword’s real name—his real surname, at least. It’s not lost on you. Or maybe it is. You’re still unsure if the information and realizations are filing away correctly in the thick fog filling your mental spaces. What was once an infinite space resembling a placid lake that you could quickly dip into for recall is now more of a boggy marsh that threatens to overwhelm and drag you down each time.

“You,” Shadowsword stabs a finger toward Goris, “shut up before I gag you. Someone will be in shortly with some food. Try not to be an asshole to them, or you’ll go without. We’re not done, you and I. There’s still a whole lot we need to talk about, Rit. But, it’ll have to wait.” He moves toward you. “Fuck!”

The shadows holding your arms and chest fade away, leaving you to list to the side heavily. You manage to catch yourself before you hit the dirt. “My…head,” you whisper, bringing your other hand up to clutch at your temple.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck!” He continues with a litany of curses as he stoops down and grips you around the waist before hauling you up and over his shoulder.

“Agh!” Your world spins, and your stomach threatens to heave up its nonexistent contents. “Please,” you slur, tongue feeling thicker than ever.

As Shadowsword pushes through the loose tent flap, you get your first lungful of fresh air since being brought here. The inside of the tent was far more stifling than you imagined. Though the air outside is still warm, the sweat covering your face and neck begins to wick away by the gentle breeze making the leaves on the surrounding branches of the trees whisper and dance.

“Park!” Shadowsword yells as he carts you off toward a line of what looks like work tents. All their sides are open, revealing various workstations. You spot a loom and a weaver cart before he spins on his heel, and your view blurs. “Park! Where the fuck is Park?”

“What is it?” snaps a delicate voice from back toward the work tents. “Stop screaming. I can hear you just fine. Gods know it’s not like I’m busy trying to fulfill the orders you already dropped on me this morning.” Whoever is speaking continues to grumble as they draw closer.

Shadowsword spins again, making you convulse on his shoulder with a dry gag. “Those Helnite collars I had you make. You said they can’t be taken off unless you do it. I need you to do it.”

“Well, that was quick. How did you manage to fuck that up?” they quip, but the tone is teasing more than anything.

“Shut up and go. Hurry!”

You try to steady your breathing, pulling in air through your nose and pushing it out between your dry lips. If he doesn’t put you down soon, you feel like you really will be sick.

The smells of hot metal and ash roll over you as Shadowsword steps into the shade of one of the tents. There isn’t much you can discern from your perch over his shoulder, and lifting your head to look around feels impossible.

“Lay her over here.”

As Shadowsword slides you off his shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the man standing on the other side of the cleared work table you’re being lowered onto. He’s wearing a leather apron, similar to the ones you’ve seen smiths wear. The soot and ash smears on his hands and face lend to that even more. With his soft features, kind eyes, and brown hair kissed with golden highlights, you think he’s more beautiful than handsome. A startling contrast to the harshness of the forge glowing red behind him.

“You said the Helnite would work on the Psion,” Shadowsword growls at the other man, posturing aggressively with his hands braced on the table by your hip.

Those soft eyes take on a fierceness that fits more with a metal worker. “I said, in theory, it would work. And well, it clearly has worked.”

Shadowsword jerks up a finger, jabbing it at the man across the table. “It’s practically turned her into an invalid. You said it would only limit her ability to read magical signatures and retain new memories.”

“I also told you it would depend on her strength in ability. You refused to let me in the tent to see her runes, so it was all guesswork, you arrogant prick. You wouldn’t even tell me how big it was,” Park gestures animatedly at your chest, where your tunic has fallen open slightly to reveal the top half of your rune and your breasts, “it’s massive! Just because you feel possessive over—”

“Just shut up and take it off! Fucking hells, Jimin, you can berate me more once I know I haven’t ruined my chance at getting what I need.”

“You mean once you know that you haven’t ruined your new toy,” Park—Jimin—grumbles as he leans over the table, and his eyes, once again soft, meet yours. You blink lazily at him, trying and failing to filter through and latch onto their conversation. You know there are significant bits you should be retaining, but they’re like grains of sand slipping between your fingers.

Jimin slides a finger between your skin and the collar, working it around until he’s nodding and hurrying away from the table. The short moment his finger was between your neck and the band felt like a drink of cool water, the heat from the metal subsiding substantially.

“How long is it going to take?” Shadowsword questions.

The reply comes from a distance, accompanied by the sound of metal clinking together. “Not long. The Helnite can only be removed using a special cutter and must be imbued first. You’re lucky I have the right tools for this.” Coming closer, he says, “You should really get her some better clothes suited for the warmth here. The heat is making her even more muddled.”

“I’m such an idiot. I got one of the most valuable people in existence just to nearly kill her,” Shadowsword grunts under his breath, you barely catching the words. “Just get it done so I can,” he says louder for the other man to hear.

Jimin fingers the metal collar again, pulling it as far from your skin as he can to slip the curved edge of a pair of clippers under it. “The shock might make her pass out,” he mumbles, bracing himself against the table as he grips the long handles of the tool. 

The collar tugs on your skin as he applies force, the Helnite groaning under the pressure of the clipper. There is a distinct sound of metal screeching as it tears, and relief floods your system. Your senses buzz, the sensation growing until you feel like you’re on the verge of drowning.

The air in your lungs isn’t enough. Your back arches off the table. You try to cling to the tiny tendrils of reality surrounding you, but your consciousness is swept away in the rush, sucking you into a numb, static-filled state as your mind fights the sudden maelstrom of information.

🖤🖤🖤

Jungkook

“Gods, I really am an idiot,” Jungkook grumbles to himself for what feels like the thousandth time since he laid your unconscious form on the pile of blankets and furs he uses as a bed in his tent. He sits across from the bed in a low-slung camp chair, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

In all his years, he’s never nearly botched something so thoroughly. He knew the instant the Helnite clicked into place around your neck that he royally fucked up. The vibrant fire in your eyes that he had come to seek out anytime he was in your space instantly dimmed.

He could barely think over the panic that held his chest in an iron grip. It didn’t help that Rit wouldn’t shut up, confirming what he already knew—that the Helnite would ruin you if he didn’t do something about it quickly.

The fact he had disregarded Jimin’s insistence on seeing your runes to be sure the Helnite wouldn’t hurt you is something Jungkook hasn’t stopped kicking himself over. He might have avoided this whole fiasco if he had not been so obsessed with you and consumed with this ridiculous possessiveness.

None of this is going to plan at all. Trusting Ulgrin was his first mistake. He should have known there were things that Ulgrin was keeping from him. Most important among those is that Marvick was holding one of the, if not the most powerful, Psion in her employ. He would wager to guess that even his father is unaware of your potential; otherwise, you’d have been under his thumb instead.

Thinking of Marvick makes his stomach twist and knot. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He never wanted her to die, not by his sword, at least. Though, he’s not even sure she did die by his sword. The timing was too close between the moment Lowren crashed into the side of the mountain and his sword cleaving into her neck. Either blow could be attributed to her falling.

Neither was supposed to happen. According to Taehyung, Lowren caught a bad downward draft because of the storm kicking up outside, and after he broke away from engaging with Hoseok’s dragon, Rubel, his wing was clipped, and he went down hard. It’s never easy hearing or watching another Mave or Reaver take a fatal blow, knowing the bond will kill them both. It makes Jungkook realize just how precious that bond is and how easy it would be for someone to take him out simply by targeting his own dragon.

You’ve been out for hours now, and the fact that Jungkook doesn’t want to leave you in here unattended and doesn’t want anyone else to take over watching you means he’s shoved off most of his responsibilities onto Yoongi and Namjoon. They’re both in his inner circle. They know easily as much as he does about what must be done. If it weren’t for his friends, all six of them, he knows this camp wouldn’t function as smoothly as it does. For a rebel encampment, it resembles a well-oiled military station pretty well.

Jungkook’s attention jerks to you when you moan softly. He watches as your brow pinches and your lips turn down in a barely-there frown. It’s curiosity that has him pushing up from his camp chair and approaching the bed. Your eyes flicker behind your closed lids, frantic. It looks like you might be having a nightmare.

Sweat glistens on your brow, and he can see how it shines along your neck and the small part of your chest exposed from where he just had to cut the ties on your top. Jimin said you needed cooler clothes, the heat not helping what the Helnite did to you. He wonders if you might recover and wake up quicker if you cooled off.

Slowly, Jungkook settles onto the bed beside you. His knees press into the thick layers, shifting your hips slightly as his weight sinks in. With timid motions, he pinches the loose flap of your tunic and begins to pull it open slowly. Just as the more significant swath of your rune that spreads over the tops of your breasts comes into view, you jerk a hand up and slap his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you croak, scrambling away from him until you flip off the edge of the bed, your legs flying into the air. “AH!”

“Oh, shit! Are you okay?” Jungkook launches across the bed and tries to help you sit up, but you just scream and frantically start swatting and kicking at him. “Okay, okay! Stop! I’m just trying to help you!” One of your boots connects with his jaw, and he jerks back, his ears ringing and his vision blurring. “Fucking hells,” he groans.

“I’ll gut you!” you snarl, brandishing a very familiar knife. The small, leather-hilted dagger he usually keeps under his pillow waves in the air before him, clutched in your trembling hand.

It’s kind of cute the way you’re threatening him. He knows he could quickly disarm you with his shadows and a simple thought. But, erring on the side of caution, he doesn’t want to scare you any more than you already are. Holding his hands up and out to either side, he rocks back onto his heels and slowly sits on the ground a few feet from you.

“Sorry. That probably looked terrible, didn’t it? I wasn’t trying to…well, I was, but not like that. I was worried you were too warm, and it was affecting your ability to recover from the Helnite.”

Your other hand goes up and circles around the front of your throat. Relief sags your shoulders when you feel the collar is gone. The only thing that remains is a slightly raised line where your skin was mildly blistered from the short time the Helnite was on.

“Why did you take it off?” The suspicion is evident in your tone, accompanied by the narrowing of your eyes and the steadying of the blade in your hand.

His lips twitch. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you. I should have done more research, but I was blinded with desperation and—er, I’m just sorry, okay? I had it removed as quickly as I could because I realized I’d made a mistake.”

Disbelief clouds your eyes. He doesn’t blame you. He wouldn’t believe himself either. It sounds like a trick, a farce to get you to trust him when you have every reason not to.

“You killed General Marvick and Captain Krut. You’re a rebellious, murderous monster. It’d be reckless of me to believe anything you say.”

“Ulgrin Krut was a traitor, both to me and to the Crown.” Not like pointing that out is going to make it any better. “And Poli…it wasn’t supposed to be like that,” he sighs, repeating his earlier thoughts. “Something happened with Lowren and…” he trails off, his shoulders pushing up in a sad shrug. “I wish I could take it back.”

That seems to deflate you a bit. Your chest sinks as you blow out a breath. Jungkook watches as your tongue swipes over your cracked lips. “What do you plan to do with me? What about Colonel Goris?”

“Well,” he slowly lowers his hands to rest on his bent knees, “Rit will remain bound in Helnite for now. He’s too volatile for me to let him roam free without it, but I plan to move him to a place that’s closer to Ripley so they can at least see one another, and it’ll be less likely that she tries to escape again.”

“So, you really are as cruel as they say you are,” you state plainly. “Might as well kill him. It would be the greater mercy.” He knows it probably seems that way. But, with how this conversation is currently going, he’s hopeful you’ll hear out everything else he has to say…perhaps change your mind on how you see him. “And for me?”

“You’ll be free to roam the encampment, no Helnite. Though, you will be watched and warded closely. If you try to make it beyond the outlying sentries, they have been instructed to prevent you from leaving…at all costs.” That has your hackles rising again, so he quickly presses on. “I don’t want to treat you like a prisoner, but I have a pretty good idea of what’s churning inside that head of yours. You think you know who I am, what I’ve done, and how I’m just a power-hungry son blinded by his need to dominate. All I ask is you listen, hear what I have to say about the last ten years. Hells, use your ability on anything you need…even me—“ you gasp, and he assumes due to the fact you know that using your Psion ability on another living being is strictly forbidden and goes against all the oaths that you’ve ever taken “—if you have to so you know the truth.”

“I’m not an oath breaker like you,” you sneer before dropping your hand, the dagger still gripped tight but with the tip now resting on the ground. “If you think I’ll tell you all the military secrets and information I am privy to, you can think again. I’ll read whatever objects you want me to. I’ll even listen to whatever bullshit story you want to tell me. But I won’t betray Poli by giving you everything I know, no matter what you say or do to me.” The promise comes easy, but for some reason, it tastes bitter on your tongue.

🖤🖤🖤

The only reason you’re agreeing to even listen to him is because you can’t shake what Goris said to you earlier. Use your skills, whatever you must, to get free, even if that means offering him your ear while still plotting his demise. Who knows, maybe you can learn something valuable.

“Can I have my dagger back, now?” Shadowsword asks, one of his brows quirking.

“I think I’ll keep it,” you state, fitting it into the holster in the top of your boot. It’s a bit bigger than the dagger you usually keep there, but the hidden sheath holds it well enough.

Shadowsword nods toward a changing screen on the other side of the tent. “Would you like something lighter to wear? Perhaps something to eat and drink as well?”

 It’s on the tip of your tongue to refuse his hospitality, but with the subtle burning around your eyes from sweat and how your chest hollows each time you drag in a too-warm breath, you decide to bite back the tart reply instead. “That would be great, thank you.”

He moves slowly as if he’s scared of spooking you. You watch as he gains his feet, his linen shirt falling open even more than it did earlier in the tent with Goris. Instead of looking away, you focus intently on making out the splash of black on his chest. It’s definitely the silhouette of a dragon, its head almost centered on his chest, its body covering his entire pec and disappearing over his shoulder.

You’ve seen plenty of Mave’s Signis marks, but never one so big or dark. Most marks are a good indicator of someone’s ability, a reflection of their inner self and their bond to their Reaver. There are other peoples, like yourself, who have different kinds of markings that denote their specialties. The runes on your chest mark you as a Psion. Though every Psion has their own unique marking, it’s always in the same place and the same color. The bigger the mark, the more innate ability one is said to have.

Noks, the bulk of the military foot soldiers, also have their own indicators in the form of red lines slashed diagonally across their cheeks. It’s said the red signifies the blood of battle and helps them channel their rage. You’ve seen them in action, so focused that even grievous wounds won’t stop them. The only way to keep a Nok from gutting you is to gut them first, and even then, you probably need to take their head off as a secondary precaution.

You clasp the front of your tunic closed the best you can as you stand up, only wavering slightly as lightheadedness washes over you. It’s been far too long since you had something to drink, and the heat is nearly unbearable. You push yourself to focus on crossing the tent to the changing screen, one step closer to hopefully getting that drink he’s offered.

“There’s a change of clothes behind the screen, a blouse, and some breeches. It’s the best I could find in something size appropriate. We don’t have many females around here, and the ones we do have more often than not wear fighting leathers, so it was slim picking for non-battle gear.”

Stepping around behind the changing screen, you realize with the way the lights are positioned overhead if he stays there, then he’ll be able to see your shadow in full as you change. You chew your bottom lip, contemplating asking him to afford you some privacy, but as Goris reminded you earlier, the body is just as much a weapon as a blade.

A short table sits off to the side, a shallow basin of water and a cloth sit beside a pile of folded clothes. “Thank you again,” you offer, anxiously cutting your eyes toward the screen. You can’t see him through the panels, not even a flash of his shadow, but you can feel his eyes locked on your form as you slowly shrug out of your ruined tunic.

It feels good to have the thick wool top off. The air in the tent is mildly warm but nonetheless refreshing now that your skin has a chance to breathe. Glancing at the screen, you slip the dagger from your boot and tug them off. You can still feel those eyes on you. So, as much as you want to shuck your fur-lined pants quickly, you take your time sliding them over your hips and down your legs, arching your back, and creating the perfect silhouette.

Keeping your eyes trained on the central panel of the changing screen, you pick up the cloth and dig it into the cool water in the basin. Your eyes flutter shut, and you try to suppress a groan of relief as you press it to your neck and swipe away the accumulation of sweat and grime, but something between a moan and a sigh slips out. A smile pulls at your lips as you hear a throat clear on the other side of the screen—so, he’s listening just as much as he’s watching. It’s tempting to continue with the show to eke out as much advantage as you can, but the rumble of your stomach has you tossing aside the cloth in favor of grabbing the clothes.

The breeches on the table are thin dark blue cotton, molding to your legs and ass once they’re on. They’re infinitely cooler and tuck nicely into the tops of your boots. You replace the dagger and then pick up the blouse. It’s a mossy green color with a cinched, banded waist that gathers with corset-like ties down the front. You purse your lips, giving the blouse a once over before pulling it on and securing the ties. It’s far more flattering than you anticipated, accentuating all the right areas.

There is a small commotion on the other side of the changing screen; hushed words are exchanged, and the distinct clinking of dishes. You step close and peer around the edge of the paneling, catching a glimpse of a smiling man in a rose-colored apron tucking a hand towel over the top of the apron and pointing to something on the large platter sitting on the table opposite the bed. 

“I smoked the cheese just this morning, and those are fresh apples right off the trade cart. You let her eat before you touch anything,” the finger that was pointed at the table swings to wag in Shadowsword’s direction. “Just because she thinks you’re a beast doesn’t mean you have to try and prove her right. This could be our last chance at—oh, hi!”

You hadn’t realized you were leaning so far out beyond the edge of the screen. Embarrassment warms your cheeks, and you school your features before stepping out fully and giving the man a tight smile. “Hello.” 

“Out,” Shadowsword shoos the man toward the tent opening. “Go.”

“Remember what I said, don’t make me sic Hoseok on you for being disrespectful!” the man spouts even as Shadowsword is pushing him out, both laughing lightly.

It’s interesting, maybe even a little surprising, to see such genuine lightheartedness in a place that’s been notoriously dubbed a blight of darkness on the kingdom for the last decade. You never imagined being in the rebel encampment, much less that the encampment would be so…normal—drab even.

“Please, sit, have as much as you want.” He gestures to the wooden table lined on both sides with benches. The tent is large, similar to standard war command tents you’ve been inside. The bed you woke up on is farthest from the entryway, the changing screen to the side of that, and the table closest to the entrance with various smaller tables, chairs, and a few trunks scattered in the remaining space. Stacks and stacks of books and papers are strewn across most surfaces, and an entire barrel of maps is stashed in the corner by the larger table.

You take your time approaching the table, allowing yourself to take in the tent's interior, tucking away all vital and essential pieces of information you can. The fact you can so effortlessly function now and file things away appropriately is like a drink of water all its own, but the metal pitcher on the table glistening with condensation beckons you still.

Sliding onto the bench on the opposite side of the table so your back is to a canvas wall. It’s the most advantageous seat, letting you continue to keep an eye on Shadowsword. You snag an empty goblet, give it a tentative sniff, and then pour a generous amount of water from the pitcher before gulping it down. It’s so cold it hurts, but the instant relief as it hits your stomach is like a soothing balm to the ache.

“It’s cold,” you murmur, taking a smaller swallow before refilling the cup. “Enchanted?”

“We collect it from small rivulets that come down off the mountain. Natural filtration through the bedrock and bubbles up here before emptying into the outlet to the southeast that goes to the sea.” It’s an easy explanation and makes sense to you.

It comes naturally to focus on the goblet in your hand and the water sliding over your tongue. The crisp liquid takes on the slightest hint of mint as you draw on the warmth in your chest, testing the validity of his words. The mountain's chill and the earth's integrity bubble like added flavors as you take another sip.

Calm clarity swirls within the mix of sensations, dripping from the goblet and supporting the water. Whoever formed and worked the metal to make this vessel enjoyed their craft and created it with extra care in mind.

So, he’s at least telling you the truth about the water and didn’t offer you a poison-laced goblet to drink from. That’s no guarantee he will speak honestly or have no ill intentions when it comes to anything else. “What is it you wish me to listen to, Shadowsword?”

His brow pinches as he draws closer, grabbing a chair and spinning it around to straddle the back and rest his elbows along the top. There is intention in the fact he chose to sit several feet away, close enough to talk but far enough away that he’d have time to react if you tried to take a jab at him…or for him to catch you before you could bolt for the loose tent flap over the entrance.

“Jungkook, you can call me Jungkook. I don’t really care for that name…Shadowsword, it sounds more like a curse.”

“You are a curse to many,” you say, dropping your eyes to the stretch of food before you. The large platter on the table has a plethora of different morsels, everything from cheese and meat to jams, slices of bread, and fresh fruit. “Are these really apples?” you ask, the word feeling foreign on your tongue.

There is a moment of hesitation that has you glancing up at Shado—Jungkook. You might not be able to hear his thoughts, but you can read the micro-expressions on his face well enough. He’s uncomfortable with what you said about him being a curse. But, he sighs and answers your question instead of pressing the other, “They are. Quite delicious, too. Very sweet, juicy, but still crisp. We’re so close to the border that it’s been easy to establish a trade route with Norkham.”

“I didn’t realize they would be so willing to trade with an enemy of the Crown,” you mutter, grabbing one of the fleshy red and yellow dappled fruits.

Jungkook lets out a derisive snort. “Norkham doesn’t care for the ‘Golden War’,” he scoffs, twisting the name the conflict between him and his father has been dubbed. “My gold is just as good as my father’s. But, unlike my father, I’m not scared of red fruits. Contrary to what is believed, they’re not poisonous. Well, most aren’t, at least.”

You rub your thumb along the shiny peel before bringing it to your nose and inhaling the slightly sweet fragrance. Letting the warmth settle in your chest, you open yourself to tasting not the fruit itself but its journey and memory. It’s passed through a few hands, always handled with the utmost care.

There is the subtle taste of fresh, clean water soaked into the soil and drank through the tree's roots that nurtured the fruit. Nothing about the apple tells you it’s dangerous. If anything, you pick up on the fact that it’s been paired and prepared with other foods that mean you no harm; the whole platter is safe.

With that in mind, you put the apple against your mouth and take a bite. Or you try to, at least, the skin is resistant and then snaps as your teeth sink in, surprising you. “Oh,” you muffle against the fruit, unable to hold back a laugh as you break off a chunk.

Sweetness bursts on your tongue, mixing with the mildly floral taste. It’s something you’ve only ever dreamed of experiencing. Your chuckle turns into a cough as you see the look on Jungkook’s face as he stares at you. His lips are curved into an easy smile, and his eyes are soft, like he’s enjoying watching you.

“It’s good, right? Apples are one of my favorites.” Your eyes track his as they flick from the fruit to your mouth as you take another bite.

He’s right. It is crisp yet still juicy. Your mouth floods with flavor. A drip collects at the corner of your mouth and slips down your chin. A flutter of confidence lights in your chest as Jungkook licks his lips before tearing his eyes from the juice on your chin and how you swipe your tongue out to try and collect it.

As with washing behind the screen, you’d spend more time playing your game if you weren’t so hungry. You gather some of the more familiar foods onto a small plate and begin to eat in earnest between more bites of the apple.

Right now, it’s hard to say how far you’re willing to take this game. Your training has instilled pretty much no boundaries regarding mission objectives. Though, due to your level of power, after you finished your fourth year of standard scribe training, you were sent to a specialist at The Serpent, the Mave-specific garrison on an island west of the capital.

The intention wasn’t necessarily to keep your potency a secret. Everyone knew you were pretty powerful. But, no one knew you were more powerful than even the Crown’s own Psion, who just so happens to be your cousin, Larzon. You haven’t seen Larz in years, and even then, it was only in passing at your graduation ceremony before you were promptly assigned to General—then Colonel—Marvick’s care.

What’s essential for you to remember is that you have an end goal; get out alive and, if possible, take Goris with you. He doesn’t deserve to be chained with Helnite, regardless of what he’s done as a war colonel. You know all about the casualties of war and that when it all boils down to it, each side thinks they’re in the right while the other thinks they’re wrong. War leaves very little room for a grey area, making it all simply black, white, and copious amounts of red.

“I have one question before I listen to whatever it is you want to tell me…” you pause before adding his real name instead of the one he’s been given by the Crown for his rebellion, “Jungkook.”

His shoulders roll back, and he tilts his head from side to side. “Sure, if that will earn me your undivided and apt attention.”

“Goris told me of your relationship to him. How is it you could so easily, so callously beat him to a broken, bleeding mess?”

A harsh breath hollows his chest as he shifts in his seat. “Easily? There was nothing easy about it. Callously? I’m sure you know all about doing what you have to in order to get what you need. I didn’t want to hurt Rit. I’ve considered him a friend for longer than I’ve thought of him as my enemy. Perhaps what I have to tell you will help you see that I didn’t enjoy it. It’s just a necessary part of the bigger picture.”

You can hear the genuine nature of his words. They sound like the truth, but you’ve not been around him long enough to honestly know how good he is at deception. All you have to go off of is everything you’ve read. The rebellion started when you were still in training, just before you began the additional time at The Serpent. It’s hard to believe that was a decade ago now. Though, it feels like a much shorter time. War moved at its own pace, chugging along whether you can keep up or not.

“Go ahead, let’s hear your reasoning behind the last ten years.” Your gesture toward him with a chunk of bread. “I’ll listen.”

“I’ll start from the beginning,” he says. “But first, I’d like you to have this.” Jungkook stands and moves over to one of the smaller trunks near his bed. He kneels, the soft scent of clove permeates the air as shadows slither out from seemingly nowhere. They undulate and cover the chest before an audible pop sounds, and they drift away, revealing the chest now open.

“What’s that?” you ask. He holds up a pin that’s a golden dragon surrounded by a crown.

“It was my father’s,” he murmurs. “It’ll show you the validity of my words when you’re ready to bear that burden.”

The pin is heavy in your hands. He settles back in the chair as you observe the dragon’s form. There are distinct, crusty splotches caught in the fine details. Even without opening yourself to the warmth in your chest, from the barely-there scent of hellfire and metal, you can tell it’s blood…old blood—dragon’s blood, shed in violence. You shiver, your eyes meeting his as he begins to explain.

🖤🖤🖤

Jungkook

It takes far longer to tell you everything than he thought it might. He hadn’t realized just how much there was. You didn’t ask many questions, just making noncommittal sounds when he revealed more sensitive bits of information. But it’s all out there now. You’ve heard it all…every gritty, unbelievable detail. Jungkook knows how hard it is to believe. If he was the one listening, he’d probably have laughed and walked out halfway through. The fact you’re still sitting there, idly swirling a slippery piece of rockmelon on your plate, gives him at least a tiny bit of hope.

“Let’s say I do believe you. What is it you want from me? How can I possibly help you?” You shove the plate away, leaning your elbows on the table as you stare at him with a pinched expression on your face. You pocketed the pin shortly after he started his explanation, and you haven’t touched it since. He wonders if it’s burning a proverbial hole in your pocket. “If you haven’t been able to make a difference in ten years, what makes you think you can now?”

He’s been thinking about this, too. Since things went wrong with Krut at the turret in Fort Orit, he’s been scrambling to devise an alternative plan and the best way to utilize you and Rit to his advantage. In an idyllic world, he would have taken Poli as captive as intended. He had it on good authority that she would have listened to him without much persuasion.

What he knows that you seem not to is that Poli was more of a sympathizer than she appeared to be. It was the key Jungkook clung to, the fact that Poli Marvick cared more about the people—all people—than she did the Crown. The first mention of innocent lives being on the line and she would have been like a bee drawn to a flower, unable to resist the powdery grains of justice.

Though, he knows bringing that up right now will just shut you down. You might be willing to listen to his bizarre story, but you wouldn’t entertain the thought of your precious friend being capable of being a rebel sympathizer…not yet, at least. Ulgrin Krut is another story. You relented on that pretty quickly. He’s curious about who else you could easily see being a weak link in the Golden Chain of command. But that’s a thought for another time.

“You’re the most powerful Psion I’ve ever encountered.” That’s the crux of what sparked his near-instant obsession with you and what’s been fueling his possessiveness. You represent the hope and opportunity he’s been desperately searching for—the answer to finally putting a stop to a decade of struggling. “You have the ability to discern fact from falsity. That in and of itself could help sway the tide of my cause. If you believe me and stand by me and say it’s true, they’ll believe you.”

Your laugh surprises him. “You can’t think it’s that simple, can you? You realize they’ll think I’m just as daft as you are. They’ll think I’ve been corrupted. Just because I’d say something is true wouldn’t make it so. Having the power I do doesn’t mean I can’t still lie, too.”

“Perhaps, but if I could just get into the palace, I know where there is evidence that can back up my claims, and no one would be able to argue it. Just as that pin in your pocket can help you understand, what’s in the palace can make everyone understand. That’s really what I needed from Krut and what I now need from you. Help me get into the palace, and I’ll prove it all to be true to the rest of the kingdom.”

“Are you just going to beat me into submission? How are you going to make me agree to help you?”

This is something he hasn’t quite figured out yet. He’s not sure what else he can offer you other than the freedom to use your power as you want to find all the answers you need. So, he starts with that. “As I said before, you’re welcome to use your power on anything or anyone you wish. But please start with the pin.” You flinch when he says anyone, but not as hard as before.

There isn’t a lot of public knowledge about Psions for apparent reasons. But, one thing he does know about all of them, including you, is that finding the answers and retaining factual information will always be your first goal. It’s something he’s kept in mind every time he’s brought it up, offering that small nugget of temptation. It’s forbidden, taboo…but maybe, just maybe, he’s piqued your curiosity enough that you’ll be too curious to resist.

“What is this supposed to show me?” you ask, finally pulling the pin back out. It catches in the overhead lights, glinting like a guiding star that will lead you to all the answers you need.

Jungkook licks his lips. This could be the moment of truth. “My father was wearing it the day I confronted him.” He hopes he’ll get to see your gift in action. Watch the realization steal across your features as you see his words for the truth they are.

“What an innocuous little thing. Who would guess it could potentially lead to the end of a decade-long war?” The words are spoken softly, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him.

He feels like he’s viewing a private moment, but no matter how intrusive it feels, he can’t seem to look away. Jungkook is realizing that it’s not just your power that’s alluring. There is an exotic quality to you that is calling to his inner desires. He’s never noticed it before, but the color of your eyes seems to shift, never staying the same shade of brown, green, or blue. In fact, if someone were to ask him what color your eyes are, he’s not sure he could answer them.

If there ever was something he wishes he would have paid more attention to, it’s the history of your kind. Being the crown prince, he had access to any and all information available, even to the more obscure texts and subjects, like Psions.

You caress the ring of gold surrounding the dragon, like you’re stalling or perhaps putting off reading the pin with your ability. It’s obvious the dark rusty-looking splotches are blood. Anyone would be able to discern that. But, he’s reasonably sure you can tell it’s not just any blood but the blood from a dragon. Dragon’s blood has a distinct smell to it, even after being dried onto a chunk of metal for a decade. It’ll still smell subtly like brimstone and hot metal.

The pin has sat in that enchanted chest for almost the entire time he’s been in exile. It was on a whim that he put it in there, thinking that one day when he finally meted out justice to his father, he’d perhaps melt the pin down and turn it into something else. He came by it by accident, anyway. Now, it’s a talisman of the truth and maybe an indicator that he was meant to tuck it away for all these years; for this very moment. 

🖤🖤🖤

You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you as you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. There’s an urge to meet his eyes to gauge his reaction, but you push away that distracting thought and let your eyes go unfocused as your fingers tighten around the pin. The first thing you feel is bone-deep indifference, then a brief flit of hope, followed by anger so malevolent it makes your teeth ache…the emotions and feelings ingrained in the pin sweep in, painting such a clear picture for you.

————

“Father, call for the healer!” Jungkook shouts, cradling the large adult blue dragon’s head. Blood leaks from its open mouth, soaking quickly through his green flight garb. “Onyx, get back!” He shoos his juvenile dragon away when it becomes too curious. “Father! Father, please!”

“Jungkook, come away from the beast. Leave it be. It’s too late.” The fact the dragons are beginning to die after barely ten years of service has been an unforeseen nuisance.

The wild-eyed teenager lumbers to his feet, blood-covered hands trembling by his sides. “Leave it be? It’s the sixth dragon to die in less than a week! You said the new bonding was safe! If it’s safe, why are they dying?”

“Just terrible coincidences, nothing more,” King Jeon mutters, internally rolling his eyes as his son quivers beside him. “That’ll be all for today. You’re dismissed.”

Jungkook swings around and grips the front of his father’s robe, fingers pinching around the golden pin denoting his status as king. “But, Fathe—“

“You. Are. Dismissed.” King Jeon holds up a hand to silence any more protests. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Jungkook jerks his hands back, turns on his heel, and stalks away. It’s evident that Jungkook is becoming far too curious about the recent deaths. He can’t find out the truth, no matter the cost.

Moving to the parapet, King Jeon glares out over the wall surrounding the dragon corral, the large stable-like building that serves as a coop where the Reavers reside when their Maves are attending to other duties. Tearing his eyes from the expanse of the sprawling capital city, he casts an indifferent look at the large blue-black body still bleeding on the ground of the training pit.

The scuffing of boots draws the King’s attention to the dark doorway of the dragon corral a moment before Fenrin appears.

“Your Grace.” Fenrin bows deeply, sweeping his arms out to either side. “I come bearing fortunate news.”

“Speak plainly, Fenrin, the hour is late, and I’d like to retire to my wife’s side before dinner.”

Fenrin straightens to his full height, towering over the king by a few inches. “We’ve found a strong Brute close to the Western Garrison, fresh from The Steppes and powerful if his build is any indication. He’ll do well for you.”

“Would be better news had you told me we finally found a way to keep them from dying,” the King mutters. “Very well, Fenrin. When will you have the beast ready?”

“Just a few days' time. Sooner if we leave now, Your Grace.”

“Make it so.” The King flicks a dismissive hand, turning before Fenrin can bow in departure, and briskly closes the distance to the postern door leading into the main living quarters for the royal family. He stops just before disappearing inside, glancing over his shoulder. Fenrin is staring at the dead dragon, his face blank and devoid of emotion. “Oh, and Fenrin?”

The man cuts his eyes up, an oily smile sliding onto his face. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“See to it that’s taken care of,” he says, jerking his chin toward the scaly body. “Same as the others.”

The palace is divided into different sections, the living quarters one of the most guarded interior spaces. He passes several guards, all dressed in their golden armor. The few Maves that are attached to the capital are currently doing rounds across the city, patrolling the skies before the sun goes down. Luckily, the blue dragon’s Rider is presently undergoing additional tutelage at The Shield. He won’t know the dragon’s dead for another fortnight. By then, a new dragon will be ready for him to bond, he’ll forget all about the other. 

“Your Grace,” one of the liveried servants bows as King Jeon enters the parlor that leads to his sleeping chambers.

“My wife?” he asks, glancing around the open space. When the Queen isn’t leading tutoring sessions with the younger ladies of court, she spends her time tucked in the window seat of the parlor reading or working on needlepoint. It’s too late for the classes, yet she’s not relaxing in the window seat either.

“In the garden, Your Grace. She wished for a bit of fresh air.”

He nods, moving toward the door leading to the sleeping chamber. The windows are open, letting in the sweet musky scent of the plum flowers that like to climb and snake along the walls of the palace.

Unclipping the stays holding his golden cloak in place, King Jeon lets it flutter to the floor where he stands in front of the cold fireplace. It’s been a long day, one warranting at least a chalice of the fire brandy that gets imported from Norkham. It’s rumored they use apples when making it, and that’s what makes it have that unique flavor and burn. People say the burn is the poison of the fruit, slowly leeching into the drinkers' bloodstream—fairytale nonsense.

As he turns to head toward the small console table where a collection of liquor bottles is waiting, something in the corner of the room catches his attention.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” His son sits in one of the armchairs opposite the liquor table. Shadows coalesce in the corner, pulsing softly as Jungkook leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees: his eyes, a near mirror of the King’s own, glint from the darkness.

“You’re a murderer.”

The heat of anger fills King Jeon’s chest, making it expand. He grips the thick strand that attaches him to his Reaver, Vikmag. Lightning crackles along his veins, fizzing and sparking at his fingertips before he can reign it in.

“Watch your tongue, boy.”

“I overheard you and Fenrin. You thought I left like a good little soldier. Father, you shouldn’t be so loose with your tongue lest you reveal your madness to the world. I guess I’ll do it for you,” he snarls, launching to his feet. A wicked blade catches the light coming in from the open windows, poised perfectly for an offensive attack in Jungkook’s hand. “You said the new bonding was safe…you lied! You knew they were going to die. You knew they’d grow sick and weak. You’re a monster! They’re sentient beings, for gods’ sake. They have souls, and yet you still force them to bond!”

“You insolent fool, you think you know so much, but yet you know nothing!” King Jeon sneers.

“I know you’re willfully killing beautiful beings. And for what? So you can stay alive while your dragon dies? So you can reap the benefits of their power even in death? Are you so greedy, Father?”

“I knew you’d never understand. Nothing I say will change how you feel. So what if the new bonding kills the dragons, it’s better them than us.” The King sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head toward the ceiling.

It’s the perfect opportunity. Jungkook lashes out, blade and shadows striking. The room fills with the rumble of thunder and a flash of brilliant light. Heat sears across skin, blistering flesh beneath green cloth. A second strike of lightning rends through the open space between the two men, the pressure of the electric power directing the wave of shadows and the small blade.

In a large, concussive blast, the two combating powers slam into the center of the room. Wood and feathers spray into the air as an entire half of the bed takes the brunt of the strike.

As shadows swirl and fill the room, swallowing the erratic snaps of lightning and rolling cracks of thunder, the cold edge of a blade parts warm flesh. The King jerks back, hand flying to his cheek and sliding through the blood dribbling down his face. 

Jungkook lunges again, swinging the blade for another swipe, but King Jeon jerks again, the dagger missing his face but biting into the muscle of his chest. Fabric rips free, a slight weight tangling it around the blade.

“Your Grace!” the words echo from the parlor before a flood of guards pours into the room.

“Seize him!” King Jeon screams, stumbling backward.

Jungkook and his father exchange one last look before Jungkook snags a small whistle from inside his bloody top and then sprints across the room, golden soldiers close on his heels and flings himself out the window.

————

The golden pin falls from your limp fingers, landing with a soft thud on the ground between your feet. It’s hard to tell whether it’s sweat or tears coating your face. You swipe the back of a trembling hand over your eyes.

“W-why haven’t you...why haven’t you sought out a Psion before th-this?” Your voice warbles, and you have to swallow hard a few times to keep from losing the food you just ate.

It all feels too raw, far too real. You’ve never experienced something so visceral when reading an object. Your body aches. Your cheek burns, even though there is no cut there. There’s a fiery line that feels branded across your stomach. It’s like everything from that day is imprinting itself upon your body with phantom pains.

“Psions are rare. It’s not like I could have requested one from the capital. You’re part of a coveted kind, precious and protected. Had it not been for—“ he pauses, not needing to remind you how you came to be in this encampment. “The important part is you’re here now, and you’ve seen the truth.” Your bleary eyes slide up from where they were gazing at the pin on the ground to land on him. He tugs the bottom of his shirt out from where it’s tucked into the tops of his breeches and then pushes it up to expose his stomach. A long, puckered scar slashes his otherwise pristine skin. “His lightning strike nearly killed me. All because I found out the truth.”

You wet your dry lips, staring at the bubbled skin until he drops his shirt back down to cover it. “So, when he discovered the new way to bond that doesn’t tether a dragon soul to their rider…it’s not—they really die?”

Jungkook blows out a breath. “I’ve been gathering as much intel as possible about it since that day. He was right. No one truly cares. Not the right people, at least. Everyone here,” he sweeps a hand out, indicating the encampment, “they held no true power out in the world. We’re all just a bunch of outcasts, the misfits, and the unwanted. But all the Maves and Reavers here are here because they believe me. We all have soul-bonds, we all know what that means and how sacred it is. After I found out how my father has desecrated and forsaken that...not even him having his own soul-bond can change that ultimate betrayal. All of the beings here know just as well as I do that my father is a cruel man with no regard for the beautiful lives of the dragon kind.”

“The Stepping Isles are sacred ground. It’s protected,” you insist, reciting words that have been ingrained in you through the teaching of the capital. “If you take your forces there, you can stop him from gathering more dragons.”

“We’ve tried sending parties to The Steppes, but the islands are controlled by the Crown and he has them on such a tight lockdown now that it’s nearly impossible even to get close to the Western Garrison. The few Brutes we’ve come across over the years have been ones that escaped into Norkham. The last glimpse I got of The Stepping Isles was one of a breeding farm. They’re mating the dragons and then forcing them to bond to Riders. It’s barbaric…yet no one is raising a hand to try and stop my father because everyone who has any sort of influence and power are the ones who are reaping the benefits.”

Even as someone who doesn’t know what it feels like to have a bond like that between a Mave and their Reaver, you’re still aware of how utterly atrocious this is. It can’t continue. The revelation settles deep in your chest. You’re about to forsake everything you’ve ever known to be true. You’ll be an oath breaker…something that churns your stomach sourly but not as bad as how the bitter tang of betrayal coats your tongue. You believed in the Crown, you’ve defended the Crown…now you’re going to destroy it.

“I’ll help you,” you whisper.

“What did you say?” There’s no denying the lilt of hope in Jungkook’s voice.

You clear your throat, sitting up straighter and meeting Jungkook’s dark, liquid eyes. “I’ll do it. I’ll help you.” Something deep in your chest cracks and bleeds with your words. Whether it’ll turn into a festering wound or a beautiful opportunity for growth, only time will tell.

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[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #1 - shots

kol mikaelson x reader

summary: of all the places for your secret crush to be revealed, of course it's at a loud, unruly bar. and, of course, your crush overhears everything you say about him.

tags: alcohol, drinking games, secret crush, minor steroline

word count: 953

For the last three hours, you and Caroline have been in the grill, getting drunker by the minute. An innocent game of rating people who walked through the door quickly became a less-than-innocent game of electing how many shots it would take to kiss said people. Then, of course, things took a turn when instead of asking about strangers, the questions came about friends. Now, you’re in a full fledged, back-and-forth, public game of how many shots it would take to kiss your friends. 

“How many shots to kiss Matt?” You ask.

“Considering I’ve already kissed him, probably none. The embarrassment is already gone. Been there, done that. Now, how many shots would it take you to kiss Jeremy?”

“Girl, like ten, to get over the fact that I’m kissing Elena’s little brother. I mean, he’s good-looking enough, but oh my god.”

“True. Okay, your turn.”

“Hmmm… oh, this is a good one. John Gilbert.”

Caroline chokes on her tequila shot. “That is not a friend!”

“I’m branching out.”

“Like, a thousand!”

You erupt in a fit of laughter, “same. Straight alcohol poisoning.” 

“How many to kiss… Alaric?”

“Saltzman? Seriously?”

“Mhm. And give a real number. Be honest.”

“Ugh. Well he’s not unattractive, but he’s also our teacher, Care. Ummm… sixteen.”

“Very specific.”

“I thought about it thoroughly.”

“Clearly.”

“Okay. How many to sleep with-”

“When did this turn into ‘sleep with’?! I thought we were kissing!”

“Shut up,” you giggle, “how many to sleep with Stefan?”

Caroline goes quiet immediately. She starts counting on her fingers. “Six. Because we’re kinda friends, but not super close. And he’s also Elena’s ex, and Damon’s brother, so that makes things a little weird.”

“Really?”

“What would you say?”

“I’m not sure, actually.”

“Alright then.” She looks around the restaurant for a minute. In a split second, her eyes land on someone, then bounce off immediately. When she turns back to you, she’s smirking. “How many would it take for you to sleep with Kol Mikaelson?”

On a normal day, you’d blush red and refuse to answer. But tonight, you’re too drunk to remember you have to hide your crush on the man. “Two. Both solely for confidence.”

Her jaw drops, “Y/N!”

“What?!”

“You’d sleep with him barely drunk? Not even drunk, like slightly tipsy?”

“Girl, I’d sleep with him sober, I just need the confidence boost.” You shift in your seat as she says nothing. “I know you feel the same way about Stefan, so don’t come at me!”

“I said six!”

“I know you’d do less, given the chance!”

“Y/N!”

“What?! He’s hot,” you mutter, “and I like a bad boy.”

“You’re crazy,” she laughs, “we’re gonna need another bottle for this. I’ll be right back.” She saunters off towards the bar, still shocked, but also giggling, about your truthful answer. 

“Might take me a shot of confidence, too, darling. To match your boldness.” A voice comes from your left. You whip around to find its owner, just to come face-to-face with Kol himself. 

Your face pales.

“Aw, come on, don’t get shy on me now.”

“Did- did you?”

“Hear you? Definitely. Vampire hearing, darling. Plus, girls get louder when they’re drunk.” He smiles. “But not to worry, I’m flattered it would only take a couple confidence shots to sleep with me. Say, we can make that a reality. I’ll admit, the reason I come to this bar every night with my brother is on the off-chance that you’d be here. Looks like I came on the perfect night.”

“You look for me?” You stutter on your words.

“Not in a creepy way, but like an ‘I need to know you’ way. Seems to me that you’d like to know me better too, if it’s not so outlandish of me to suggest.”

“No, not at all.”

“Sounds lovely. Meet you at seven, here, tomorrow night?” 

“I’d love to.”

“Perfect, then.” He takes your hand and kisses it. “See you then, darling.”

He leaves with enough time to spare so that Caroline doesn’t cross his path.

“I nearly had to fight Matt for the bottle. He tried to say we’re too drunk. But- why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing.”

“You totally are.”

“I am not.”

“Y/N!”

“Fine! I might be!”

“Why? What happened? Spill!”

“Our conversation may have been overheard.”

“Oh no! By whom?! Not Stefan, right? I would die.”

You bite your lip, “nope, Kol.”

“Mikaelson?!” You nod, and her eyes go wide. “What did he say?!”

“Invited me out on a date,” you try to not squeal in excitement, “tomorrow at seven.”

“And you’re going?!”

“Of course. I did say I’d sleep with him, right?”

“Oh my god, is he the secret crush you have that you wouldn’t tell me about earlier?”

“Quite possibly.”

“Y/N!”

“I can’t help it, he’s hot!”

“He’s going to eat you alive.”

“Not if I eat him first,” you say, wetting your lips. 

“Oh my god, girl, you’re crazy!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out for your guy to set you up,” you snicker, “then we can both date our secret crushes, and sleep with them with minimal shots taken.”

“I do not have a crush on Stefan.”

“I didn’t say Stefan.”

She pales, knowing she’s caught. “You’re so bad!”

“Bad? Or going after what I want? Come on, Care, join the dark side. You know you want to.”

“Mmmmm… you better tell me how that date goes tomorrow.”

“Oh I will.”

“Now,” she puts on a fake serious face, “how many shots to sleep with Damon, if he wasn’t a dick?”

You snort, “I don’t care how less dickish he is. If I already have Kol, I don’t want anyone else.”

[storiesofaot]

Do you do aus? If so I'd like to request a story of Levi seeing Princess Hange for the first time as a soldier is chosen as her personal bodyguard. And of course he is smitten but he hides it although Hange gets the message hehe

Hi anon! First of all, I’m sorry it took me quite a while to get this done! I have never written a Royal AU before and I had expected to struggle a bit with it. But GOSH I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did, I really really fell in love with Princess Hange and Bodyguard Levi 😍 I am turning this into a short fic / oneshot (as you can see I am really having a blast with this idea!!) which I will be uploading once it’s finished - but for now here is a part of what I have written so far. I really hope you like it! 😊

Rating: G; Word Count: 2025

Title: Princess Hange and her Bodyguard

“Did you hear the news?” Erwin asked as he entered Levi’s room, swiftly closing the door behind him. 

Levi, who was sitting on his bed, looked over at the tall man, unfazed. “No, what news?” His uniform jacket hung neatly on a clothing rack in the corner of the room, its fabric crisp and buttons shining, while he was in the middle of polishing his boots.

“Where have you been the entire day? Weren’t you in town, didn’t you hear the news?” The blonde man shook his head, sitting down on the empty bed across the room.

Levi continued with his task, diligently scrubbing at his boot with a cloth. “I was out on patrol all day, just got back.”

Erwin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “They’re looking for a bodyguard for the princess from within the military, and they’re planning to hold a competition to decide who the lucky one will be,” he said in a conspiratorial tone.

Levi paused in his task for a moment, frowning up at his taller friend. "And this concerns me because … ?"

The blonde man laughed out loud. “Half of the military is eager to be the princess’s personal overseer. She may be a bit eccentric and impulsive, but she’s not unattractive.”

“Well, good luck to them; I’m not interested.” Levi didn’t even glance up from his task, clearly considering the topic closed. But his friend had other ideas.

“The winner of the competition will also receive a generous monetary reward,” Erwin continued, his eyes lighting up as he noticed Levi’s attention shift at those words. “This could be your chance to secure a better future for your mother. With that money, you could help her escape her current situation and move to a much better place!”

Levi reflected on Erwin’s words. It was true; he and his mother, Kuchel, hadn’t exactly had an easy life. Growing up in a challenging neighbourhood, they struggled with money and often barely scraped by for rent, food, and drink due to his mother’s illness. When he had joined the Wings of Freedom, the royal military, things had gotten a little better. But all Levi wanted was to get his mother out of that place, and he would do anything to make that dream a reality.

“How much?” he asked. When Erwin named the sum, his eyes widened. That would definitely be enough to give his mother a better life in a safer place. 

Voices echoed in the hallway, likely belonging to Levi’s three roommates, and Erwin took it as his cue to leave. “Think about it, Levi,” he said, rising to his feet. “With your strength and experience, you could definitely win.”

“What about you?” Levi asked, eyeing him curiously. “Aren’t you going to apply for it?”

The taller man shook his head. “No, I’m content with my position in the Royal Guard. Besides, they're probably looking for someone with more experience in fighting The Titans, and I don’t think I’d be the right fit for the job.” 

Levi nodded and then said goodbye to his closest friend, who, as he left the room, bumped into Mike, Oluo and Furlan, who had just returned from the dining hall. The other three soldiers immediately brought up the upcoming competition, and for the rest of the evening, they talked almost exclusively about it. A few hours later, as Levi lay in bed, he had made a decision: he would participate. For his mother’s sake. 

~

Erwin had been right in assuming that Levi would win the competition. Levi didn’t just do well; he did exceptionally well, and the king personally extended his congratulations to him. 

“This is the princess’s schedule,” the king said, handing Levi a piece of paper on which were the details of her daily activities, meetings, and any events she was expected to attend. “You’ll need to familiarise yourself with this to ensure her safety and well-being.” Levi only nodded, reading the whole thing over and then folded it together. 

““And remember, the princess’s safety is your top priority. You must be willing to give your life to protect hers,” the king continued with a stern voice. 

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Levi replied and saluted. He had received a new uniform, and was now dressed in a royal blue instead of the usual dark green of the Royal Scouts. But he still needed to get used to it, and he felt a little tense and out of place as they entered the study room where he would be meeting Princess Hange for the first time. 

“Hange, dear, this is Levi Ackerman, Captain of the Royal Scouts,” the king introduced him. “From now on, he will serve as your bodyguard and protector and will be responsible for your safety.”

Hange didn’t even bother to look up, mesmerised by a book she was apparently reading. “Hmm, wonderful. Nice to meet you, Lenny,” she murmured.

The king reassuringly patted Levi on the shoulder, like this wasn’t the first time they were going through this scene. "And remember, you must not take your eyes off her for a second." With those words, he left the room, leaving a slightly nervous Levi behind.

Usually, Levi would have commented on her misunderstanding his name, even though she was royalty. But for some reason, the sight before him left him so stunned that there was no room for hard feelings. Never in his life had a person mesmerised him as much as Princess Hange Zoë did in that very moment - and it left him feeling utterly disarmed. 

And the worst part was, she hadn’t even done anything. She was simply sitting at her desk, nose stuck in her book, eyes sparkling at whatever she was reading. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in gentle waves, half pulled back with a few strands framing her face. She wore a simple light orange dress that hugged her waist beautifully, and she had kicked off her beige ballet flats, wiggling her bare toes as she laughed out loud at something amusing in her book.

This was definitely not what he had expected, especially after all the stories he had heard about her. But for some reason, her laugh sounded like the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, and, unwillingly, his heartbeat quickened. He continued standing at the door for what felt like several minutes, gazing at the woman who had somehow already wrapped him around her finger.

Princess Hange seemed to have forgotten he was there, and it was only after finishing the chapter that she finally acknowledged his presence, curiously studying him for a moment. “So, Lenny, right?”

Levi struggled hard to collect himself enough to speak, feeling her gaze pierce through him and burrow directly into his heart. “Um … no, it’s Levi. Levi Ackerman, Your Highness.”

Hange gave him a crooked smile. “Levi, right. Sorry. To be honest, I hadn’t been paying attention when Father introduced you.” She raised her arms above her head and stretched, accentuating her slender figure even more. 

“That’s okay, no problem, Miss” Great, he was really nailing this conversation.

“Look, Levi,” Princess Hange continued as she started to feel around the floor with her bare feet in search of her ballet flats. When she found them, she quickly slipped them on. “I’m sure you’re not happy about being demoted to be my babysitter, and I certainly don’t like being watched all the time. But since Father isn’t likely to change his opinion very soon, I suppose we’re stuck with each other for the moment. That’s why I would like to set up some rules.”

Levi only nodded, though his thoughts were a tangled mess as he tried to comprehend the warmth and brightness she brought into the room. Normally, he kept his feelings firmly under control, but this time, he felt like a ship adrift at sea, lost and aimless, tossed about by unfamiliar emotions.

“First of all, don’t call me ‘Your Highness’. Hange is just fine, or Miss Hange, when others are around. Those titles make me feel so old and isolated, like I’m something special.”

‘You’re the princess, of course you’re something special,’ Levi thought to himself, but of course, he didn’t speak those words out loud. Instead, he continued with his silent nodding.

“Secondly, I don’t want this to be too awkward, and you don’t seem to be a jerk. So let’s not be stiff or overly formal; we can talk normally and forget about our roles. Next, I can take care of myself, so don’t treat me like I’m fragile or incapable. I know Father told you to keep an eye on me, but that doesn’t mean you can’t let me do things my way. Oh, and don’t be afraid to crack a joke once in a while; we might as well keep things entertaining while we’re in this ... relationship.” She finished her little discourse with a grin.

People definitely hadn't been lying when they had said Princess Hange knew what she wanted. But Levi could understand her conditions; nobody liked having every step they took monitored. “That works for me. But I don’t do jokes. I’m not funny, and people have told me I look scary when I laugh.” He hadn’t intended for it to be funny, he had just wanted to be honest and had tried to say it with the straightest face he had. But for some reason, Hange seemed to find it hilarious, for she threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. 

“Don’t believe what they say,” she said with a grin and stood up. “I bet you look nice when you laugh.” When she reached him, she extended her hand, an invitation for him to take it. With shaky fingers - still reeling from what had sounded like a compliment to his looks - he let go of his own hand he had been grasping up until now, gently taking hers as he escorted her out of the room. Once in the hallway, she withdrew her hand and he offered his arm, which she immediately accepted. They fell into a comfortable pace as they walked side by side, leisurely and at ease.

“What’s the next point on my schedule?” Hange asked as they turned onto the staircase hall. 

“I don’t know, let me check the … menu?” he replied, secretly pleased as it elicited a giggle from her. Apparently, she found his awkwardness funny, and he couldn’t deny it made him a bit happy. “The royal family of Paradis is having a luncheon with the duke, duchess, and their daughter from Marley,” he read aloud, earning a theatrical sigh from Hange.

“Guess I’ll have to get changed, then,” she said with a hint of sulkiness, tugging at her dress. “Could you escort me to my chambers, please?”

“Sure. Just tell me where to go, since I have never been inside the palace,” Levi replied, shrugging apologetically. With a grin, Hange lead the way, and soon they found themselves in front of the door for her room. 

“I know you’re supposed to be at my side all the time, but I suppose a lady deserves her privacy when she changes, don't you think?” she said, playfully patting his forearm.

Levi’s heart sank, uncertain whether she was joking or genuinely flirting. Either way, he felt the blood rush to his face, and he knew she could see it too. “Sure. I … um … I’ll just wait here.”

“Great!” she said, the mischievous smile unwavering. “See you in a bit.” She patted his arm one last time before swiftly turning around, her hair almost whipping against his face, and disappeared into her room, where two maids were already waiting for her.

For several minutes, Levi remained standing in front of the door, frozen, his eyes wide. He was feeling unusually hot, and as he swallowed, he realised how dry his mouth and throat had become. The breath he released was shaky, and he ran a hand through his hair, turning away from the door to regain his composure. What kind of mess had he gotten himself into this time?

[juneknight]

My heart goes out to you rn 💞 I'm going to tip the shit out of you I just get nervous about my account ever seeing the light of day 😬

So kind of a specific one, but could you do a situation with the boys where the reader feels unattractive bc she doesn't think she looks feminine enough? Possibly ending in some NSFW comfort 👀

(I'm afab and I've had two people assume I'm a boy in the last month bc I have a short haircut, feeling a little sensitive about it 😅)

Thank you so much if you have tipped or when you tip. Every penny is so appreciated. Also, as someone who has shaved her head a few times, I felt this!

About this: steven grant/ fem!reader, talks of femininity vs masculinity, some innuendo at the end, pretty soft and sweet with a hint of toppy Steven.

Reader gets a haircut and feels instant regret.

*

Steven isn’t supposed to check his phone at work. Donna takes the sale of overpriced stuffies very seriously (though she didn’t seem to care when Steven told her about the nuances between depicting Bastet with rounded ears vs pointed ears), and if she catches Steven even using his phone to check the time, she threatens to send him walking. But Steven’s phone has buzzed thrice in his pocket, and he knows that it is you. 

No one else messages Steven; no one but you. For a while he just daydreams about what your messages might say. What little update might you have sent about your day? Are you asking what the two of you should have for dinner? Perhaps you’re even sending something of a more personal nature, something that will have Steven rushing to the loo to cool himself off. You’ve done that once before. 

Maybe you’re even sending pictures. You had just gone to get a haircut that morning. If it had given you a confidence boost, Steven would gladly reap the benefits. Nothing drove him wilder than when you were so clearly appreciating your own allure…gods, but he has to look. 

Glancing around to make sure that Donna isn’t looming like a cloud about to rain on his parade, Steven works his phone from his trousers and sees that each message is from you. No pictures, though. 

I made a mistake. 

Five minutes later: In a foul mood. Called off the rest of the day. Be careful on the bus ride home. 

A half hour ago: Bring something home for dinner? Xx

Steven frowns. Not quite any of the things he had imagined you might be saying. What sort of mistake had you made? Something at work? He knew that fouling up and pissing Donna off could put Steven in the most dismal of moods. Well. He made a silent vow to pick up your favorite take-away on the way home. Maybe even flowers. Or—

“Better be the bloody King calling you, or I’ll ban phones on the floor altogether,” Donna says from behind him, giving him a proper jumpscare.

*

Three hours and twenty-three stuffies later, Steven slips through the flat with fragrant Italian food under one arm and a bouquet of mostly-non-wilted roses tucked between the crook of his elbow and his side. 

“Hellooo,” he calls lightly, a hint of trepidation filling him when you aren’t immediately visible. He sets his flat keys aside and puts the take-away and flowers on the kitchen table, eyes scanning the flat for you. You aren’t curled up in your armchair (the one right beside his). You aren’t lounging on the loveseat watching the a documentary on the latest anthropology hot topic. You aren’t curled up in b—

Ah. You are. Except…

“Darling, are you hiding from me?” Steven wonders, looking at your figure completely obscured beneath the blankets. The blankets don’t move, though he hears your sigh. “Oh gods, she’s dead.” 

Steven throws himself beside you on the bed, tossing an arm over your figure and dragging your blanketed body towards him. He presses his face into the crook of your neck (or possibly your armpit, difficult to tell beneath the thick coverlet) and lets out a showy sob. Immediately your figure snorts, struggling against him. Steven yelps and jerks away. 

“Come out, you Osiris, freshly raised from the grave—” 

His breath catches. 

You have cut all your hair off into a short, modern style. It isn’t at all like anything you’ve done in the past, and it isn’t anything like what you had hinted you planned for the stylist to give you at the shop earlier that morning. 

“Oh, darling. Be still my heart. You look amazing!” 

Something passes over your face, some shadowed, vulnerable crack in your strong veneer. Your hand lifts, patting at the hair softly. “Do you really think so? Be honest.” 

“I do! Not that I think I could ever feel otherwise, but you look incredible.Was this your mistake? Did the stylist take a little too much off the top?” 

“No–no this is what I wanted her to give me,” you admit, wiping at your nose gently. Steven sees then that your eyes are red, a little swollen from tears. “I thought that it was going to make me feel so…badass. And it did! But then at lunch the waiter said, Yes, Sir, when I asked him if I could have another glass of iced-tea, and then a coworker pulled a face and said that I was so brave and it was far too masculine for her taste and I just…this isn’t what I wanted.” 

Steven scoffs. He rolls onto his back and opens his arm, making room for you to wiggle up against his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Your hair smells like the posh shampoo and conditioner they use at the stylist you go to, when he kisses the crown of your head. 

“That’s bollocks. Poor waiter must have been blind—I don’t want to imagine all the dishes he was breaking in the back. And too masculine for her taste? Well it’s a bloody good thing it’s not her hair, nor her taste you’re trying to appeal to! You know, I have half a mind to go to work with you tomorrow and tell her what’s what—” 

“Do you mean it? I’m not too boyish, like this?” 

Steven softens even further, running a hand up and down the length of your side that he can reach. “No. I don’t buy in to all that, love. Hair is just hair, long or short or anywhere in between. It doesn’t change who you are. You get to decide what’s feminine or not, and to hell with anyone who thinks otherwise. But if my two-pounds helps at all…you know I’m only attracted to women. If I’m attracted to you more than any other woman—what’s that say about you?” 

“That I am the most womanly of womans,” you say with a wet little laugh, wiping at your eye. 

“I mean it,” Steven says lowly. Moving his hand from your side to your back, he rolls you onto him until your chests are flush together, relishing in the weight of you against him before you sit up, straddling his thighs. His eyes move over you: your hair, your features, your clothes. All of the pieces that come together to create a picture of the woman he loves. “You drive me mad, you know that don’t you?” 

A little breathless, you shift against his lap. “I think I can feel it.” 

“You think?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I think I’d like to kiss you.” 

You lean down, one hand against his chest, feeling the firmness of his pecs through the kitschy short-sleeve dress shirt he had donned underneath his jacket that day. His kiss is already hungry, the way Steven’s kisses usually start: a little desperate, a little like he is afraid you will stop kissing him any moment. But then he relaxes, licks languidly into your mouth. Beneath you, his cock hardens the rest of the way, and you can’t help but shift against it, working til it is in that perfect spot dead center between your legs. 

“I love you so much,” you murmur, trailing kisses down his jaw and into the juncture of his neck. 

Suddenly there is a bright burst of tension on your scalp as he grips your hair and tugs you back away from his neck, a gasp slipping from your swollen mouth. His eyes are dark, the pupils huge, liable enough to swallow you whole. 

“Still plenty for me to grab on to, isn’t there?” Steven breathes. 

You let your eyes flutter shut as he tugs again, feeling the ache all the way down between your thighs. 

“Better make good use of it…” 

[madforhoran]

You could start a cult - a flashback 

A little something I thought of to add to the original I posted a while ago here and on ao3. I will maybe add a bit more later.

“Remember how back in the forest I asked you if you enjoyed it because it didn’t seem like you were fully there?” asked Leliana. It was a quiet night at camp and what else it could be anyway, right in the middle of the wretched shadow curse. Astarion nodded, pressing his lips in a tight line. 

“I wasn’t fully there either. And neither the second time we slept together,” she admitted. The truth had to come out at some point. 

“What do you mean?” his softened voice was marked with concern. 

“Look at me and then look at Shadowheart. With her beautiful symmetrical face and ideally curved body. I look at myself in the mirror how everything is off balance, weird, and unattractive. My breasts are uneven, my stomach is pudgy. I’ve always felt ashamed getting naked…and to add insult to injury I’ve always felt pain down there, discomfort I cannot properly describe. I’ve never climaxed.”

“But,” Astarion started, a flash of anger crossing his beautiful features. “First of all, there is absolutely nothing wrong with your sweet face, nor your body! You are beautiful. Second of all, why did you agree to sleep with me, darling, you should’ve said — uhm,” he suddenly went silent, not finishing the sentence because they both knew if she said no, it would’ve ruined his nice simple plan right at the very beginning.

She sighed. “I’ve always thought I need to have sex to be with someone. I wanted to be close to you so I just did it despite everything. Haven’t you wondered why I so readily accepted us taking a break from it? That I wasn’t offended at all?”

“I must admit, I did wonder. I thought you’re going to end whatever-this-is,” he said. He struggled to call what they had a relationship but she wasn’t putting it against him. It was complicated.  

“You haven’t manipulated my feelings with sex, I was already there. And when you confessed, I thought of course him seducing me had nothing to do with my appearance or personality when literally everyone in our camp is more attractive and more interesting than me.”

Astarion huffed. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“Oh, I know,” Leliana rolled her eyes. Astarion smirked. “We sure are a delightful pair, aren’t we?” He placed his skilled hand on top of Leliana’s stomach then slipped it under her shirt, making her belly twitch. It was a thing she couldn’t control, an automatic reaction her body developed on its own. She hated her torso. “What are you doing?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her and started making circles with his thumb. “I’m checking off a mental list. Because clearly telling you that you’re a vision wasn’t enough. I have to put more thought into showing you.”

“Astarion, please don’t, you don’t need to,” she protested, slightly ashamed. 

“I believe I do. I promise I won’t go any further. We’re in this intimacy mess together, albeit having different problems but still.”

“Are you going to magically make all the things I hate about myself disappear with your hands?”

“No,” he scoffed. “With my mouth too. But one thing at a time, darling.” 

[southern-belle-outcasts]

Name: Nilza Maria Valdez

Nickname(s): Unless she knows you well, she's not going to answer to anything she didn't tell you to call her (sometimes gives an alias). Nillie WILL result in violence. Nil or Nils (her name is pronounced nil-suh) only acceptable from someone she likes. Pet names are a very case by case basis and rarely accepted.

Relationship Status: Most verses it's "cannot get any more single and unavailable". There's a few that have managed to get under her skin.

Gender: Woman.

Romantic Orientation: Bisexual and romantic but leans femme in her hookup choices, and would lean masc romantically if she tended to be romantically inclined.

Preferred Pet Names: She will often drop lindo/a if she finds you pretty. She is very headshy about love/amor- using it or receiving it. Papí is common with the dudes.

Opinion on True Love: Had it. She's the reason it's gone so clearly she doesn't deserve it. Would require a miracle to find again, and a second one to keep it.

Opinion on Love at First Sight: That's for movies. Lust at first sight? Sure.

How ‘Romantic’ Are They?: Could be romantic but very traumatized. It would fluctuate.

Ideal Physical Traits: Her usual choice of women close to her in build or more slender is more safety than anything. It's easier to kick the ass of someone who doesn't outweigh and look over you. Her trust is limited. Admittedly she is a fan of pretty hair and eyes, those being her go to in men or women. Fuller lips are a close third. Bonus points for features usually frowned upon by western beauty standards, she rarely has the hots for most people Hollywood would typically fawn over.

Ideal Personality Traits: Not scared of her or her snark. Unfortunately, she also finds being scared of her attractive. Having a sense of humor is big, she does actually like to be goofy with someone she trusts. Likes dogs.

Unattractive Physical Traits: She isn't often a fan of blond hair. She's made the exception once. Unfortunately she suffers from 'my body makes me my money and keeps me alive' which means she is very conscious of it and self critical, and of others. She might not voice it out loud but she's fatphobic and won't do much thicker than herself.

Unattractive Personality Traits: Cruelty to vulnerable people. Bootlickers (capitalism/cops/whatever- hard pass). Liars.

Ideal Date: One where the person doesn't abandon her or die.

Do They Have a Type?: Tall men, usually dark haired, that are either Up to No Good, or Too Good for This World. There are exceptions but that is the typical.

Average Relationship Length: what's the average of 5 minutes to 2 hours? Do we include the year with Soren? Someone else do the math 💀

Preferred Non-Sexual Intimacy: Parallel play. She's very content to just do her thing with her video games or her phone while someone does their own thing. Preferably on top of or under or touching her. Clothing optional.

Commitment Level: Usually won't even give her number for a second lay. Once she is in a situationship? Will kill or die for.

Opinion of Public Affection: So long as children aren't being terrorized in the process she has little shame.

Past Relationships?: Regardless of verse, her one and only real relationship was Soren. Which was an engagement until well...yeah.

tagged by:// @kylo-wrecked

tagging:// anymun who hasn't already done this meme and wants to share~

[thora-sniper]

Crosscember Day 9 Crosshair with food +Hunter

It wasn't as easy as it could looks like from other side. Family dinners always make Thora nervous, and this one was something unusual and very special for her. During the party all was easy, people laugh, joke, playing games, catching snacks from table and drinks from the glasses and it was easier to hide anywhere because all were concentrated on this actions. Now they all were sitting around big table, and have to look into each other. And if someone decided to ask questions you have no ability to refuse the answer.

Crosshair was sitting on another corner of the table, still rosy-checked after skating or there were another reason of this, because he has a very silent talk with Hunter. Several times he glanced in the direction of his guest, and Thora understand that she was one of the theme of this dialog.

She herself was trying to find contact with some young boys, who were asking questions about her work. Suddenly, the woman was seized by a thought: when she meets Crosshair at department's dining hall earlier he didn't have a very good appetite because of his illness and some other reasons. Now, he was eating lunch with obvious appetite, even though the conversation with his brother was clearly not to his liking. His thoughts was in another place.

Thora silently smile to herself and return to her own interlocutors. She talk as lot as she can, because boys were so involved in detail and even asked her to visit school career guidance lessons as a lector. They said that the previous guests were so annoying and represented their professions in very boring way.

-Mox, I think you ask too much questions to our new guest, - dryly remarked very thin man from the place right in front of Thora. She could tell that his face looked unattractive if it weren't for his big golden eyes. He wasn't so involved in some activities yesterday but they have had vary intense charade fight.

-Oh, uncle Echo, and you too, - answered Mox, put big piece of meat in his mouth and start chewing angrily.

-They don't disturb me, really. Talking and asking questions is one of my duty, so it's not a problem to have some free conversation without the threat of getting shot in the forehead.

-The conversation ceases to be easy, - said man in glasses who was at her left side. He was reading his tablet all lunchtime. And it was some kind of magic that he haven't lost any piece of the food on the floor.

-Tech, it's as usual, - answered Echo. - But our guest isn't as easy. Did you were there, when he caught that bullet? - his straight eyes were on Thora's face when he nodded to Crosshair.

-Yes, this was my operation, but not his duty. Other guy was too late that day because of rush hour, and we can't wait him, - Thora thought a little about how much Crosshair told them, and what was his version of this accident. And when the pain and regrets showed on her face she fills a warm hand on her shoulder. Tech was trying to calm her down, but make it without any word.

They don't judge her, just want to know some details from other side. And it was something new, because when squad lost their man or one of them turns out to be in a hospital bed other's relatives demand to punish the culprit.

-As same as he, - hmmed Echo from his place. - You need to know that our brother never ever invite someone here. He had had some friends in the city, but he isn't an easy guy to live with. So they left him behind.

-Oh, - Thora froze soundlessly, thinking about this words. This conversation didn't look like a carefree chat at the table after dinner.

-Echo, you haven't made this easy, - Tech's judging eye bitten through his glasses. He was watching like Thora's hand crumpled thе napkin, woman looks so upset and pretty worried.

-Sorry, - she answered and rose up from the table. - I need some walk.

-What I have done, - Echo looked at his brother in frustration. - I wasn't mean something wrong, I only...

-We don't know what she was thinking about, because we haven't enough information about her past, - Tech try to calm him down. - But I hope we aren't broke something, because we have another problem. Crosshair...

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that his brother, from his corner of the table, saw Tora get up from her seat and leave in a very bad mood. And in two steps he was near them.

-What did you say to her, Echo? - Crosshair hissed. His eyes was narrowed, right hand involuntarily clenched into a fist.

-I just wanted to let her know that it's not easy with you, and we don't want to repeat some old stories, - answered Echo.

-This not the same, Echo. She isn't one of... - Crosshair's voice changed immediately, little tears run out from the corners of his eyes. - Hunter...

Yes, they both in their side of the table have had a very through confidential conversation about Thora and his feelings to this woman. And now all can be broken.

-She started this, yeh, - Hunter was right behind him, squeezing his shoulders, trying to calm him down. - She is still here, I think. But she needs some time to thinking. I see her like someone who is not so easy to turn off the planned course. She would regret that she lost you more than anything in her life. Let's make some coffee, and wait a little.

[basketprutas]

WHAT IF? ✧*。

We were meant to be?

Characters: Businessman!Childe & fem reader

Genre: arranged marriage, angst to comfort. Set in an alternate universe

Notes: Second post, lets go (ᵔ◡ᵔ) I've been on a roll, and I've been motivated to write a lot for some reason. Let me know what you think by sending something to my inbox!

No song to recommend except speak now (Taylor's version) because that's all I played while writing this (though I do recommend Castles Crumbling)

I recently started writing again; click here to learn more about me ^-^

Being married to a successful businessman such as Tartaglia would be a dream for others, but it felt like a nightmare for you. 

You’d spent little to no time with one another, always passing by each other when the both of you would leave for work. In the same house that never felt like home.

He was dismissive of this whole ordeal; he clearly disliked the thought of an arranged marriage, but you weren’t sure if it was the idea of it or the fact that it was you who he got married to.

Were you unattractive in his eyes? Is he detested to be with someone like you? Sure he may have had a long line of women waiting for him, but you considered yourself to be at least presentable.

Now you spend your days alone, despite having everything at your grasp.

Did you really have everything, when you had a husband who refused to acknowledge you?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You got home one day, tired and sleepless. You had to finish up a huge deal with a potential client and you were exhausted by the time you arrived home. Seeing that Tartaglia wasn’t home, you plopped on the couch and drifted off to sleep, letting your body rest after a tiring day.

An hour later, Childe comes home to see you peacefully sleeping.

He wastes no time and grabs a blanket to drape over you.

You wake up hours later, confused with the blanket on your body.

“You should sleep some more, it’s still the evening.” Tartaglia calmly says as he goes back to his room.

You slept again, confused and wondering if he felt obligated to do that or if he genuinely cared.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The morning you woke up, he was the same dismissive Tartaglia that you knew. He never acknowledged what happened last night, and just went on with his routine before leaving the house.

It ate you up inside how you couldn’t understand him. Does he hate you? Is he staying for the sake of the company?And it hits you; He feels obligated to do all of this because it really is for the company.

That hurts to think about. But how can you complain when it’s as plain and simple as that?

You can’t ask for more, you’re just a marriage on paper.

Everyone just needs to believe you’re in love, you don’t actually have to be.

So why do you feel you yearn for someone so close yet so far away from you?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Those thoughts crept up more and more as the weeks went by. It was clearly affecting your performance; you kept missing meetings because of how nauseated you were knowing Tartaglia was going to be in the same room as you.

You made your time out at work earlier so you don’t have to see him at the house, and made your wake-up routine earlier than his so when he wakes up you’re already out the door.

All of that just to avoid him, to avoid seeing him, and realize you were falling deeper and deeper into something you shouldn’t have.

But all of that effort was thrown off the window when both of your families set up a dinner party, forcing you and Tartaglia to be at arm’s length.

“Same as before.” Was all he said before leaving the car to enter the estate.

You know the protocols the both of you set up to make it convincing for everyone; his hands on your waist and a bright smile with champagne on the other hand.

It hurt to smile like you were his when you know you weren’t.

“So how have the both of you been?” A guest asked.

“Same old, same old. Me and Tartaglia have been busy lately. I'm just glad we have time to ourselves when we go home at the end of the day.” You reply, hugging him with your arm as you leaned in close to him.

“I’m surprised you still use Tartaglia, don’t you feel comfortable calling him Childe?” Your eyes perk up at that comment.

Shit.

“Force of habit, apologies.” You pass it off as a joke.

The night passes and you decide to stroll in the garden at the back of the estate, alone. Acting like you really were lovers took a toll on you tonight, most especially with these new-found feelings of yours that were getting harder and harder not to ignore.

As you sit on a bench, looking up at the stars, you think.

Is he getting tired of this? He’ll probably ignore me again when we go back home. I just hope no one asks us any more questions, I don’t think I can handle it.

The thoughts were overwhelming. Before you know it, little droplets of rain start to fall on you rapidly. When you stood up, you were already drenched in the very strong rain. Instead of running back to the estate, you sat back, letting the rain pour onto you as you decided to cry it all out.

Pathetic as it may be, it was helping you let out your feelings. You cried, sobbed, and didn’t care if people saw you. Either way, they wouldn’t know that you were crying because of how strong the rain was.

What you didn’t know was Childe was looking everywhere for you, out of concern because of the rain. When he saw your silhouette in the gardens, he wasted no time running up to you.

“Hey-” He called out your name as he ran. “Tartaglia?” You brushed off the tears rain from your face and looked up at him. “What are you doing here? It’s raining so hard!” He screamed so you could hear him through the pouring rain. 

You couldn’t answer right away. “Sorry.” Was all you could think of saying as he grabbed your hand to make you stand up. “You could’ve gotten sick! You don’t like getting sick, right?” 

It was true. While it would be natural for someone to hate being sick, you hated it on another level. When you would call in sick for work, you’d still have your laptop ready on your bed as you experienced a fever.

“H-how’d you know that?” You ask. “I know all kinds of stuff about you! How you hate people being late, how you like your coffee hot, how you would arrange the spices at home in alphabetical order for some reason.” He laughed, still talking loudly through the rain.

He looked beautiful. Despite the rain on his face, despite his look of concern for you, he was majestic.

“Wait, were you crying?” He asked. His hand instinctively held your cheek.

“I-I wasn’t.” You lie. “Your eyes are red.” “That’s because of the rain-” You try to excuse yourself.

“Like hell it is.” 

He quickly wrapped his arms around you. 

“Are you okay? Did something upset you tonight? Is that why you’re here in the rain?” He quickly asked those questions and you couldn’t help but let the tears fall as you stayed in his arms. “I’m sorry I’m usually more put together, I…” You couldn’t say the words. 

Maybe, for now, this short-lived affection was enough for you.

“You can tell me anything, you know that right? I’m your husband after all.” Those words caused an incredible amount of pain to you for some reason.

You breathed deeply before asking,

“Am I your wife, then?”

He looks at you, confused. “Of course you are. I know I don’t really show it, but I care for you. A lot. Contract or not, I still want to be married to you.”

One sentence was enough for all of your worries and fears to go away.

“You don't know how much those words mean to me.” I sigh and hug him tightly.

He smiles fondly and accepts the hug as the rain poured down on the both of you.

“I’m sorry. It seems like I had something to do with your current state.” He says, still holding you.

“I thought you hated me… hated this.” You finally admit.

“I could never hate this. The only thing I hated about this whole thing was how I never got to fall in love with you the right way.”

“What do you mean?”

“You-- gods you’re beautiful, you know that? And I was mesmerized by you when I would see you at gatherings. When I got the news we had to get married, I should’ve been happy. But I wasn’t. You didn’t have the chance to love me for who I was and instead, you were dragged into this contract. So I… I made sure to be distant. For your sake.” He says, clearly feeling guilty and upset about how he handled the situation.

“Clearly, that isn’t working. And I’m sorry. I thought you liked this arrangement…” His voice starts shaking. “I’m sorry too. For making it such a big deal-” “It is a big deal. No man should treat their wife this way and I learned my lesson for trying it myself. I won’t make this mistake again. Not when I finally know you feel the same for me.”

You had enough power within you to look at him in his eyes.

His mouth was trembling.

You put your arm on his cheek and smile.

“Can I finally kiss you?” You ask.

“I’ve been dying to do that.” He replies.

The two of you lean on one another, lips touching with a bright smile. Despite the ongoing rain, you savored that moment. The moment when everything clicked.

The moment when you knew you were meant to be with him.

When you pull away, the both of you smile, still holding one another. “We should probably get back now.” He laughs. “We probably should.”

He holds your hand as the both of you walk back to the estate, drenched from the rain but happy and content. 

END.

Notes: this trope has a chokehold on me and I swear I won't stop loving it ♡( ◡‿◡ ) This one is a bit longer than my first post, that's because I really wanted to flesh out the story properly with the right amount of angst and comfort. Hope I provided that!

Inbox is always open for suggestions and comments.

-Clara

[littlemissidontcare]

Considering that she's about to be the longest known relationship, the idea that she doesn't "live up to his exes for him", is pure coping. Yall can dislike her while accepting that his actions don't align with your feelings about her whatsoever. Like no offense, but you know you lost when you need to resort to ageism and insulting looks constantly. She doesn't need to be hot nor young in order for him to want her and stay with her.

I’ve had a long day of being extremely diplomatic toward people who didn’t deserve my patience or kindness, so forgive me for sounding like a raging cunt when I say that the only one coping here is you. He looks like he’s smelling rotting fish every time she’s next to him and no, that is not an exaggeration. He refuses to touch her or look at her with any love or respect. Two years of dirty looks and uncomfortable body language pale in comparison to one year of smiles, affection, and contentment. And if I’m not mistaken, he was with Leighton for nearly three years. Annabelle just has some great lawyers, and Seb is too infatuated with his career to find a woman he actually feels compelled to treat nicely. You can say I’m coping, but what we saw in Cannes was not a loving couple, it was two people forcing something that has never been present. I’m sorry you feel the need to defend something that has never really been worth defending, but you should really stop wasting your time. He could marry her and I wouldn’t bat an eye. I’ve seen all I need to see. You will never convince me that he likes her or, given the choice, he’d have spent the past two years with someone else. Time and time, again, they’ve been outed for being an arrangement. And the more we see from them, the more that information is solidified for me. You can call me delusional, you can say I’m coping, they’re not normal, they’re not private. I’d barely call them friends.

You can throw your accusations of ageism at me, too. I don’t care. The fact that you’re coming up with these responses to every ask that dares to say something unsavory about a d-list failed actor who has less personality than polyester is a little pathetic. Everyone from your echo chamber is the same: you all play the misogyny or ageism card when you don’t know what else to say. If anything, you’re just showing your asses by projecting what you think is wrong with her on us. Margarita Levieva is 3 years older than Annabelle. She is a goddess in comparison. I’m not asking for Seb to be with something who’s twenty and a virgin, I’m simply saying that Annabelle is a shitty person who also happens to be unattractive. As someone who sees how grossed out he seems to be when he’s around her, I don’t see it ending well.

Also, to be frank, I’ve exhausted my logical arguments because your camp doesn’t have the capacity to absorb them. At this point, as I said, I believe what I believe based on hard evidence. I make fun of her looks because it’s funny watching a crappy person’s outsides grow to match her insides.

The only reason why you vouch as hard as you do for her is because Alejandra was her predecessor.

Had she shown up with Ale never having been in the equation, a lot of y’all might be willing to see what the rest of us do. Instead, you choose to place the bar in the ground because she’s an armchair activist who knows exactly what to hide so her fellow armchair activists will worship her. She plays the PR game very well, I’ll give her that much. You’ve clearly fallen for it.