#very laura coded
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artplague · 3 months ago
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I don't think about the past it's always there anyway Don't think about the past, always there anyway And I will never die, I will never die, I will never die I will never die, I will never die, I will never die I will never die, I will never die...
bonus:
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laurapalmerz · 6 months ago
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twin peaks, cr. david lynch + mark frost // violent delights, CHVRCHES
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annemarieyeretzian · 5 months ago
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the twins 🥹
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kashilascorner · 3 months ago
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Fernando proposing to Mercedes like a vulture 😭
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widowshill · 10 months ago
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hello thinking about 147 and roger, vicki, and david's coordinating check patterns, the similarity of their silhouettes with their shirt collars and lapels, vs laura as very distinct — a different silhouette entirely with her scarf, floral probably? but definitely non-geometric.
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tenderlady · 1 year ago
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26, 27, 67!
ty!!!! <3
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lausticzt-a · 1 year ago
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laura won't die for her comrades. she won't sacrifice herself. and when you first hear that of her, she sounds awful. cowardice. she does herself no justice in correcting it either. but if you fought with her then you know. it's not that she won't fight, she is the first one to demand she takes action, if you're even lucky enough to get a warning. in the corps, her captain would advise of the situation, and instead of heeding warning, she'd think; those obstacles just have to die, and the problem is solved. and she'd pull on the reigns of her horse and go. and what was once an intense worry for her unit instead became frustration that she just couldn't obey orders. she'd be yelled at the first few times. 'you have a death wish'. no, I just know I'd win.
she will fight for her comrades. she will take on any dangerous obstacle that stands in their way. but she won't view or act like it's risking her life, even when it is. she isn't giving you time, isn't saving the rest, she's 'going to take down all those obstacles in their way. because she will win. they won't defeat her.' it's not mindless arrogance, not that she's perfectly capable; her strength comes from that defiance to lose, and it's what led to those refined skills during her cadet days and survey corp days. she's a perfectionist, so she trained intensely to get everything precise; her body isn't built for physical combat, so she had to learn to adapt around it. the moment she sets her mind on something nothing could pull her away from it.
the one nice thing about laura is that she won't die on you. if you tell her to die for humanity, she'll tell you she won't. she'll live and fight instead. once she looks at something and tells herself, I have to win. there's not much you can do to stop her. she can't even stop herself. in turn, she also doesn't want people dying for her. she won't let you. if you get hurt because of her, she won't leave you alone for days. she is responsible for you now; even as she criticizes you for being stupid and that she doesn't need your protection. she sees her own life as important because it's her life, but when other people also feel that way with her it's overwhelmingly different that she doesn't know what to do with that information and ultimately appears like a prissy prick.
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shivjoys · 2 years ago
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I’ve been thinking about cocaine being Kendall’s drug of choice and how it makes a lot of sense. Coke makes you feel grandiose and on top of the world and it’s the exact opposite of how logan makes him feel
literally, the drugs are just a cry for help and a way of grasping at come capacity of control in his life where his father is an oppressive ruling force... i imagine the appeal of cocaine in his youth came from that desire to rebel quietly, and he's never been able to shake the comfort he gets from that escape
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eightmakesonebraincell · 11 months ago
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ateez as mafia boyfriends (christmas special)
genre: mafia!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, brainrot and smutfest of mafia x christmas tropes
length: 13.8k
c/w: nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), graphic depictions of death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (murder, abduction, corruption), pet names (kitten, babe, baby, love, sweetheart)
a/n: this one’s for yumi (@sorryimananti-romantic), mafia anon and everyone who’s sent in an ask about mafia!ateez before 🫶 loosely based on aammwffy but this is still a standalone fic not part two thank you for coming to my ted talk 😙✌️ merry christmas y'all
hongjoong
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the stocking in your hand jerks when you suddenly feel it
it’s a black stocking that hongjoong has made for wooyoung from out of a spare shirt
there are already several other hand-made stockings hanging on nails that he has hammered into the wall of the warehouse
and this whole ‘ateez’s mob boss couple decorates the gang’s old warehouse for christmas’ shenanigan would have been cute and wholesome…
if not for the vibrator that is currently pulsing inside your throbbing pussy
“why’d you stop, kitten?” hongjoong murmurs into your ear from behind your shoulder, knowing very well the reason why is currently in the pocket of his black slacks
when you struggle to answer, he snakes the hand that isn’t toying with the remote around your waist to the front of your pants
“hmm? what’s wrong?” he asks teasingly
your knees buckle when he suddenly cups your core, pressing the vibrator further into you as he switches it to a higher setting
gripping onto his forearm to ground yourself, you’re unable to stop yourself from moaning at the feeling of his muscles rippling underneath your fingertips while he grinds his hand against you
but as soon as you feel your high approaching, it is ripped away from you
hongjoong switches the vibrator off and removes his hand
you are close to cursing him out, but the way that you can feel the hardened front of his slacks chase after your ass for friction whenever you move away even the slightest has you confident that it will not be long until he is cracking
until he begs for you
letting out a shaky exhale, you hang the stocking still in your grip next to mingi’s one; a dark, navy blue that used to be a fluffy towel, now repurposed for christmas
hongjoong passes you the last stocking but you let it drop to the ground
“oops,” you drawl coquettishly
you bend over to pick up jongho’s stocking, slowly and deliberately brushing up against hongjoong’s cock with the curve of your ass
you smirk when the friction draws out a guttural groan from his chest
a hand comes to rest just below your waist, “you’re playing with fire right now, kitten” 
“looks like we need a little…water to put it out, then,” you press back against him once more
he snaps
it’s not long before the tip of his swollen cock is pressing against your entrance, his slacks still bunched around his thighs in his hurry to fuck you
he pulls out the vibrator and he shushes your whines at the feeling of emptiness by thrusting three fingers right into you
“fuck, kitten,” he mouths the side of your neck, “you’re already stretched out and ready for my cock”
your mind goes fuzzy at his words and hongjoong smirks in satisfaction
sliding his fingers from out of you, he lines the tip of his cock between your legs-
you both freeze when a loud clang resonates throughout the warehouse, like someone has hit the outer steel walls
hard.
“kim hongjoong!” an unfamiliar voice yells with fury from outside
another clang, this time closer towards the entrance
there’s not much holding the warehouse doors closed; you two weren’t exactly expecting hostile visitors
“you think we can get a round in before they make it through the doors?” hongjoong asks
“if you can cum in the next ten seconds, sure”
a colourful string of curses leaves his mouth before he pulls out of you and fixes his slacks - with difficulty, you must say - while you adjust your own clothes
just in time for the warehouse doors to fling open
“you killed my fucking brother, you motherfucking bastard!”
“who are you again?” hongjoong leans back to rest against the edge of the table while he watches you pick up jongho’s long-forgotten stocking on the floor. “you’ll have to remind me.”
numerous men stride in towards the far end of the warehouse where you two are - were - hanging up the stockings
you look away with disinterest; it’s nothing you and hongjoong can’t take care of
“kyungseok,” the man grits out, jaw clenching with irritation when neither of you show any signs of recognition. “you killed my brother, kyungtae. leader of the bluebirds.”
at his last word, it finally clicks
“ah,” hongjoong cracks his knuckles and stretches his neck lazily, “the one who thought they could touch my kitten and get away with it”
meanwhile, you step back after hanging the last stocking on the wall, admiring the row of decorations
you direct your question at the man behind you, “what do you think, kyungtaek?”
“it’s kyungseok,” he snarls
you wave dismissively, pressing a kiss against hongjoong’s jaw as you praise, “these look wonderful, babe”
you hear kyungseok yell out at his lackeys followed by a flurry of movement
hongjoong sighs, sneaks a kiss in, and then gently steps the both of you to the side out of the path of an incoming kick
“if we make this quick, maybe i can finish fucking you before seonghwa and the others get here,” he winks
then you two move
in quick succession, you use the momentum of their thrown punches to yank two men over your shoulder, one after the other
the wind is knocked out of them and you aim a sharp blow to their necks to render them unconscious
realising that close combat may not be the best idea, another bluebird member brandishes a knife to gain the upper hand
“weapons? that’s not very fair,” you purr
you lunge forward before you have even finished your sentence, catching him off guard and grabbing hold of his arm
twisting his wrist backwards, he shouts in pain as his grip on the knife loosens and it clatters to the floor
“oh dear,” you mock, your hands twisting up to curl around his throat
vaguely, you register hongjoong yell out your name
“duck!”
you barely have time to crouch, your hand yanking down the man with you from where your fingers are still wrapped around his throat, before a burly male is tossed right over your body and sent careening into the table nearby
you watch in dismay as cookies scatter onto the floor, wood splintering with a loud crack
“fuck you, hongjoong, i spent ages arranging them onto the plates”
he has the audacity to smirk in apology while he wraps his arms around the neck of another man and twists, forearms flexing as the bone gives way with a sickening snap, “sorry, kitten”
the man whose throat you have been squeezing is now limp and he sags to the floor
he’s too heavy for you to throw at hongjoong, so you settle for picking up the knife you disarmed and fling it at your boyfriend
“duck,” you tease
hongjoong rolls his eyes and drops his body towards the ground, your knife hurtling past the empty space where his forehead was just milliseconds ago, before it hits its mark and makes itself home in the chest of a man who has been sneaking up from behind
moving in tandem, hongjoong extends his leg and sweeps it along the ground to knock the thug off his feet
the man’s arms fling backwards as his weight crashes towards the ground, colliding into the christmas tree you had decorated earlier and taking it down with him
you pinch the bridge of your nose as the ornaments shatter
“oops?” hongjoong shrugs his shoulders noncommittally 
stepping over the lifeless bodies scattered by your feet, you move away a little to pull out your phone
most of the bluebird gang has already been taken out; hongjoong can handle the rest himself
“hey, seonghwa and i are nearly there,” yunho’s voice sounds over the receiver
“oh,” you hum contemplatively, “is anyone else still on their way?”
“probably wooyoung. you know him, he’s always late,” he chuckles into the phone, “why?”
“can you see if he can buy some new ornaments? and pick up some fresh cookies while he’s at it”
there’s a yell and a loud thud as a body rolls to a stop just a few feet away from you
“what was that?” yunho startles
hongjoong has picked up the fallen christmas tree and is currently swinging it around like a crazed batter
“just hongjoong having some fun”
when you hang up, you are just in time to hear the loud thwunk as the tree connects with kyungseok’s temple
you’re not sure whether the splinter you hear is a result of the trunk or his skull cracking
the last bluebird member drops down dead, blood pooling out from under him
hongjoong scoffs, “merry fucking christmas”
and for good measure, hongjoong shoves an intact bauble into the man’s mouth
it’s finally silent
“now,” he turns to you, “where were we before we were…interrupted”
at hongjoong’s predatory gaze, you feel the arousal from before washing over you
he approaches you leisurely as he uncuffs his sleeves to roll them up, loosening the top buttons of his shirt, all the while undressing you with his lustful eyes
you drink up his appearance, eyes raking over his exposed chest that shines with a sheen layer of sweat
he’s in front of you now
“looks like i’ll have to prepare you again, kitten”
his fingers start to slip under the waistband of your panties when-
“heard you fucktards knocked over the cookies!”
his voice echoes throughout the warehouse before he even steps foot into the warehouse
wooyoung is fucking early.
you’re quite positive hongjoong is about to deck him through the roof
“wow,” wooyoung lets out a low whistle as he walks in to survey the scene, eyes scanning wildly over the splattered blood and mutilated bodies across the floor with an expression that appears mostly impressed
hongjoong’s clenched fists are white
uncaring of his leader’s lack of response, wooyoung continues, “when you told us the dress code was red, i didn’t think you meant this kind of red”
he approaches you two to squat down beside kyungseok’s body and taps the bauble in his mouth with interest, “rad decorations”
you watch in amusement as hongjoong’s last string snaps
“wooyoung,” he says evenly
it goes in one ear and out the other
wooyoung looks around as he asks, “can i tie him up with tinsel before the others get here?”
“jung wooyoung”
said man finally blanches
good thing too
because you don’t think hongjoong is joking when he says,
“if you don’t get the fuck out right now, you are going to become part of the decorations.”
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seonghwa
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“remember, as soon as i leave-”
“i need to lock the door,” you finish seonghwa’s sentence cheekily
he chuckles as he shakes his head fondly, “and if you feel like anything is off-”
“call you or hongjoong straight away,” you mimic, emphasising the last two words with the same seriousness he nags you with all the time
despite your words, your heart flutters shyly at seonghwa’s neverending protectiveness and worry for you
with his line of work, it isn’t easy for him to leave your side, much less leave you alone in the apartment
he understands though
it’s only been a few months since he found you; barely a shell of the curious, energetic and endearing person that you are now
under his careful nurturing, you have flourished and learnt to love and trust again
it doesn’t mean that you are quite ready to leave the apartment just yet for something other than a quick grocery run or walk in the park with seonghwa at your side
but it’s okay - baby steps
“i’ll be back at 6 and then we can cook dinner together,” he kisses your temple sweetly, “see you later, love”
you watch as he lingers outside the door, feet always ever so reluctant to leave
he motions for you to close the door and you know he won’t leave until he sees that you have closed and locked it
so with a final wave, you shut the door, turn the lock and then press your ear right up against the wood
he thinks you don’t know that he does it, and you won’t admit to it in fear that he will stop out of embarrassment
but you hear him whisper love you before his footsteps recede down the corridor
you have most of the day to yourself until seonghwa comes back
he had said that hongjoong was giving the gang christmas night off, a pleasant and welcome change from all the nights you fight the sleep tugging at your eyelids as you wait curled up on the sofa for seonghwa to come home
you occupy your day with little odd jobs here and there around the house, like washing the dishes and doing the laundry and cleaning the bedroom
he always tells you off because he wants to be the one doing them for you, but the small exasperated smile that he gives you every time barely conceals his underlying fondness
and then when you have exhausted the chores, you pull out a pencil and some paper and start drawing out ideas for a gingerbread house
because seonghwa had promised to make one with you later tonight once he discovered you had never tried it before
you cannot contain your excitement as the clock finally ticks to six
your little sketches lay abandoned across the coffee table as you start to pace the living room skittishly, ears perking up whenever you hear noise outside
half an hour passes just like that but there’s still no sign of seonghwa
that’s okay, you tell yourself
you understand that he doesn’t have a normal office job where he can just clock out and walk away as he wishes
sending him a quick text asking if he is on his way home, you busy yourself with lining up all the utensils on the kitchen counter perfectly parallel, just the way he likes it
the chopsticks
the spatula
the knife
the cooking board
again.
the chopsticks
the spatula
the knife
the cooking board
you glance up at the clock
it’s seven
you tap on your phone to bring the screen to life
no notifications
you try to quell the growing panic inside of you
but you cannot ignore the fact that seonghwa would usually send you a quick message when he is held up by something, especially on a day where he has clearly told you when to expect him home
what if something went wrong?
what if he is hurt?
what if he is missing?
what if he is…dying?
you take a shuddering breath as you pick up your phone again with shaking fingers
7:24 PM
the glare of your screen seems too bright all of a sudden
you press on the first contact of your speed dial, seonghwa’s name popping up, decorated with a little heart that he added himself when he first entered his number into your new phone
the call rings and rings and rings
“the person you have called is not available, please leave a short message after the tone-”
your chest heaves to force oxygen into your lungs
you haven’t had a real reason to contact him yet, not with seonghwa personally keeping you in the loop
but you don’t hesitate to press the second contact on your speed dial
hongjoong greets you with a little surprise, obviously not having expected a call from you, “hey, is everything alright?”
you fight to keep the panic out of your voice as you ask him, “is hwa still there?”
there’s some rustling in the background
“hwa? no, he left almost two hours ago”
your stomach lurches dangerously
you don’t realise you’ve let out a soft whimper until hongjoong is repeating your name over and over again into the phone
“take a breath for me,” he soothes, “what’s wrong?”
“he said he’d be back by six,” your eyes start to well with the tears you’ve been suppressing. “he’s still not home”
hongjoong curses, calling out for the others still at base
then his voice filters through the speakers again, “we’re going to look into this, okay? everything’s going to be fine. you’ve done a good job letting me know”
with reassurances and words of comfort, a promise to call you back in a couple of minutes, hongjoong hangs up the call
yeosang and jongho sidle up to hongjoong on high alert, having heard the end of the conversation
“seonghwa’s missing,” hongjoong grits out, already trying to track down the other’s phone location
san appears in the doorway to the room looking grim
he holds up seonghwa’s phone in his hand, “he forgot to take it with him”
hongjoong curses lowly, “park fucking seonghwa. i swear if he isn’t already dead by now, he will be when i find him”
he tells yunho to hold down the fort at base while he, yeosang and wooyoung trace the route to the apartment you now share with seonghwa
you are unsure how long it will be until hongjoong calls you again
what you do know is that you’re not going to sit around idly while seonghwa could very well be in danger
your mind flashes back to all those times you both stand in the expanse of his living room, coffee table pushed to one side, as he gives you what he coins the ultimate self-hwafense class
he demonstrates and talks you through both defensive and offensive stances and how you can use your size and agility to your advantage
sometimes, he hates that he has to even teach you how to protect yourself
because if it were up to him, he would be your protector forever
but seonghwa knows the dangers of being involved with the mafia and so instead, he gently adjusts your movements, gives you praises when you grasp the concept, and demands kisses when you successfully pin him down
and more often than not, his self-hwafense classes end up in giggles and laughter because there is nothing less intimidating than his sparkling doe-eyes and wide grin as he pretends to act the part of a threatening intruder
just as your fingers brush over the cold steel of the gun hidden underneath the table, your blood runs cold when you hear your doorknob jiggling
it’s not purposeful - it is hesitant, intermittent and careful
exactly how an intruder would open a door
you know you do not have a choice
you have to protect yourself
slinking slowly towards the door and positioning yourself so that the intruder will walk in with their back to you, you grasp the gun in your hand a little tighter with bated breath
the lock clicks open and you watch the knob turning to nudge the door open
your mind screams at you to run and hide as you fight every cell in your body to keep your feet rooted where they are
amongst the fogginess of fear clouding your brain, you have enough sense to wait for the perfect opportunity
…now.
with as much strength as your shaking hands can muster, you slam the butt of your gun against the intruder’s head
hongjoong’s phone vibrates in his hand and he answers the call within the first ring
but before he can even get so much as a word out, he hears your trembling whisper
“hongjoong, he- he’s here”
“shit,” hongjoong says at the same time wooyoung steps harder on the accelerator, “who? are you okay? are you safe?”
“oh no,” your voice becomes harder to hear as the phone slips further away from you, “he’s awake”
“we’re close, hang in there- fuck” hongjoong punches the side of the car door when your call cuts off
wooyoung doesn’t need to be told - he floors the car
the tyres squeal as they pull up to the street of the apartment, wooyoung having just barely turned off the ignition before the three of them are dashing in and bypassing the lift for the stairs
as they reach the door of your apartment, they see that it is nudged open
a sign that cues the three of them to immediately slip out their guns
with hongjoong at the front, they barge in and point their guns at the figures in the living room
“move and i’ll blow your fucking brains out,” he commands
“hongjoong?”
said man falters
that’s not your voice
“the fuck?”
of all things he was prepared for, this was not one of them
because seonghwa is in the living room
sitting on a chair nursing a very bruised head with a sorry bag of frozen peas pressed to it
but it is very much seonghwa, alive and kicking
something on hongjoong’s face must show how much he wants to skin the man and feed him to the sharks because seonghwa grimaces and makes a very poor attempt to break the tension
“surprise?”
wooyoung loses it and keels in on himself with laughter
seonghwa gestures weakly with the hand that is not holding the bag of peas at the inconspicuous paper bag sitting on the kitchen counter, which is looking slightly sad and saggy after he quite literally crumpled on top of it, “i bought donuts?”
when hongjoong exhales the longest sigh known to mankind, pinching the bridge of his nose, you completely understand how he feels
“they’re shaped like reindeers and elves…they’re limited edition…” seonghwa’s voice trails off and you see him visibly wilt like a sunflower in a cave
because as much as he knows and is sorry for making you and the gang worry, he had rushed to line up at that donut shop you have recently fallen in love with because he thought surprising you with the cute christmas donuts would make you smile
well, surprise you he did
it’s not everyday you knock out an intruder, only to find out that it’s actually your boyfriend
“i’m sure they are very cute, hwa,” you tenderly replace his hand on the makeshift ice pack so that he can rest his arm, “thank you”
and you really do mean it
seonghwa perks up at your words and snakes his arm around your waist, tugging you closer until you are basically sitting on his sturdy thigh
he looks haughtily at the other three men, “at least somebody appreciates them”
and then he lets out a yelp as his hands scramble to catch his forgotten phone that hongjoong has tossed at him
“i’ll let you off the hook this time, park seonghwa, but only because it’s christmas and i have better things to be doing. we all do,” the leader makes a move with yeosang and wooyoung to leave
but he seems to think better of it because hongjoong whips around to make one last biting remark
“they better be some fucking good donuts, the best fucking donuts you’ll ever eat”
you and seonghwa dissolve into giggles once the door slams shut behind the trio
“how’s your head feeling now?” you take the bag of peas off and gingerly touch the red bump
“much better,” his eyes twinkle, “all it needs now is your kiss”
you blatantly turn your nose into the air and stand up to grab the bag of donuts, “no kisses. that’s for scaring me”
he grumbles indignantly under his breath like a five year old; nose scrunched up, lip jutted out
you laugh, presenting the bag to him and watching as his demeanor immediately brightens
“well, let’s find out if these are the best fucking donuts we’ll ever eat”
seonghwa opens the bag excitedly, having made it very clear that he wanted to do the honours and present them to you
but then he freezes, mouth opening to form an ‘o’
and then his shoulders sag once more
seonghwa wails
and it all makes sense when you peer into the bag
“the donuts are all squished!”
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yunho
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“J, can you take a look at my sniper? i think something’s wrong with the scope”
you dog-ear the page of the file you’re scanning through to look up at yunho
“i’m pretty sure i know the least about scopes out of everybod-”
“cause i can’t seem to take my sight off you,” he waggles his eyebrows at you with an overly-smouldering gaze as he leans oh so casually against the doorframe
you swallow the insult that is about to leave your mouth, instead, undoing the dog ear and dutifully continuing from where you left off
unfazed, yunho steps closer towards your table with an excited bounce, “want to see my gun? i’ve got a pretty big one”
you hum, “i’ve seen it plenty times, nothing new”
his eyes crinkle at having received a reaction, which spurs him on further
yunho leans down a little into your space so that you are forced to look up at him, “then can i put my gun in your holster?”
you finally laugh at the crudeness of his words and you hate that he looks utterly pleased with himself
(you don’t really hate it, but you know that he loves flustering you)
(you can pretend if it’s for him)
“remind me again why you’re my boyfriend?”
“cause i shoot my load into you,” he flirts, complete with a wink, finger guns and then a flying kiss that you pretend to snatch out of the air and slam against the ground
immediately, he looks like a puppy whose tail you have just stepped on, so you reach out for his hand and tug him closer with another laugh, turning your body so that you can bury your face into his stomach and wrap your arms around his waist
one of his arms naturally slides over your shoulders to encase you, his other hand running through your hair the way he knows you like it
“what do you want, you big puppy,” your voice comes out muffled
yunho may have claimed you as the J to his PB, but you think he is better nicknamed BP than peanut butter
BP as in Big Puppy
“i miss you,” he admits
you pull away and shake your head, “you see me every day, yunho. we work together”
“yeah, and i’m sick of work cockblocking us,” he says with finality
yunho swipes your files to the side in one smooth motion, clearing the table as he easily lifts you by the waist to perch you on the edge
you barely have time to complain about the files until he is pressing his lips against yours
“i miss you,” he repeats when you break apart to take a breath, “and it’s christmas. relax”
“you talk too much,” you say, grabbing his tie and pulling him in for another kiss
his large hands settle on your waist, just below the hem of your shirt
your back arches from sensitivity when the fingers of his right hand slip under your shirt and slowly trail upwards towards your chest
his other hand snakes behind you to splay across the pretty arch of your back
you loop your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair for purchase
a stuttered moan escapes your lips when he shifts and his thigh brushes against your core
“you like that?” yunho grinds his thigh against you once more, eyes dark as he watches your face contort with pleasure. “bet you’d like to ride my thigh until you cum”
you’re about to hook your legs around his waist when there’s a yell from the doorway
yunho immediately retracts his hands and you rush to tidy the appearance of your top, both of your heads snapping towards the door
wooyoung is there, body already turning back the way he came from with a hand blocking his own view, “can you guys get a room or close the door at least?”
“or you can stop walking in on us,” yunho suggests with a red face
but the younger is already out of earshot, too busy prancing through the rest of the base announcing, “PB&J are fucking in the office again, nobody disturb them!”
yunho rubs the tips of his flushed ears and you pepper one final kiss along his jawline before you bend down to pick up the scattered files from the floor
“don’t tell me you’re going to read your stupid files again,” he groans
“well, reading these stupid files happen to be direct orders from hongjoong,” you retort
“then good thing i’ve already asked him for permission to take you out today”
he snatches the file from your hand and tosses it haphazardly onto the table, quirking an eyebrow teasingly
“what do you mean?”
yunho grabs your hand, leading you towards the door as he tells you excitedly, “let’s go on a date”
and that’s how you find yourself wrapped up in yunho’s coat over the thin sweater you slipped on because nobody told you that you’d be fucking freezing your ass off on the open rooftop of a building on christmas night
it had taken all but three seconds of stepping out onto the rooftop for a shiver to descend through your body from head to toe
“this is a date?” you had groused
yunho had then immediately taken off his coat to wrap around your shoulders as he made a pleased noise of affirmation
“then do tell me why you took your sniper along,” you sniffle a little, compliantly allowing yunho to button you up. “you want me to tell you how sexy you look while you shoot someone through the head?”
yunho grins down at you
“you think i’m sexy when i snipe people?”
you roll your eyes at his selective hearing
(you think he’s always sexy)
at your playful shove, he reaches into his pockets to pull out a pair of earplugs for you
“put them in,” he tells you before you can even ask what they’re for
when you make no move to do so, he gingerly tucks your hair out of the way so that he can put the plugs into your ears
watch me, he gestures with his hands
and then he is perching along the edge of the rooftop, setting up his sniper in front of him and adjusting the scope as he looks down the sight into the far distance
you watch as he applies pressure to the back of the rifle with his broad shoulder, as his slender fingers curl around the trigger, as he closes one eye and exhales a slow breath
then he shoots
you think that he is going to get up and finally tell you what he is doing, except he pulls the bolt back to chamber a new bullet and adjusts the angle of his rifle
and then he shoots again
you catch yourself staring at the veins running across the back of his hand and the way his finger flexes around the trigger
because you know all too well how it feels for his finger to flex in…other places
you lose count of how many times yunho pulls the trigger - at one point, he even reloads a magazine
he has almost finished the second round of bullets before he finally appears to be satisfied, scrambling up and dusting off his knees
with an eager tug once you have taken out your earplugs, he brings you to his sniper that he has left in its place on the floor
“look through the scope!”
you are careful to ease yourself down into a mimic of yunho’s earlier pose, knowing that even the slightest of nudges can displace the target by miles
hovering behind you, he shifts from foot to foot, waiting for you to see it
and when you do, your eyes nearly fall out in surprise
“yunho!” you exclaim, unable to fathom what you are seeing
because yunho has shot a fucking heart shape made out of bullet holes into the side of an abandoned building
“is this meant to be romantic?!”
contrary to your tone, you don’t think you have ever found your deadly 6’1” sniper boyfriend to be more endearing than now
he preens with the widest smile on his face, “yeah!”
you stand up with a matching smile of your own and step closer to pull him into a hug
“i don’t think i’ll be forgetting about this christmas for a while”
“you better not forget about it ever,” he threatens with a harmless tickle to your side
“thank you,” you tell him sincerely, “i love you”
he peppers your face with kisses, “i love you too”
distantly, you hear the sound of sirens, no doubt the sound of gunshots having been reported
“i guess that’s our cue,” he grins, stepping away from you and slinging the sniper over his shoulder
“our cue to do what?” you allow him to lace his fingers through yours
“our cue to fucking leg it”
and so with his hand warmly encasing yours, laughter bubbling out of your chests and cheeks flushing as the first flakes of snow start to fall, you both make a run for it
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yeosang
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“get some napkins, snacks, cooking oil and maybe a couple of drinks if you can carry it all”
you listen while seonghwa lists off the things you need to get from the shops for the christmas party
it’s nothing huge - just a get together between you, your older brother, hongjoong, and the rest of the ateez gang
yeosang sidles up to you to ask, “ready to go?”
as you smile with a nod and lean into him, hongjoong narrows his eyes from where he’s sitting on a chair
it seems like the two of you have gotten quite…close recently
not that you two weren’t already close before
and granted, hongjoong was the one who raised hell to ensure yeosang followed you everywhere as your bodyguard
except you and yeosang are getting a little too chummy for his liking
but then you’re giving seonghwa a quick goodbye peck on the cheek and you are turning around to look at your brother with that damned smile of yours to ask if he is coming along too, and hongjoong thinks that he’s just looking into things a bit too much
“yeah,” hongjoong gets up from his seat, “let’s go”
once your little trio makes it to the mart, you decide to divide and conquer the items on seonghwa’s shopping list
you’ve just grabbed a packet of napkins when someone suddenly tugs you down one of the aisles
the squeal of surprise that comes out of you quickly turns into an exasperated laugh seeing that it’s just yeosang
he’s looking at you with his sparkling eyes and expectant smile
“you’re hopeless,” you tell him because you know exactly what he wants
“hopelessly in love,” he corrects you, still waiting with an eager expression
you hiss his name and frantically look around to make sure your brother isn’t around before you relent and press a chaste kiss against the corner of his lips
yeosang immediately blushes and tries to hide the smile on his face like he didn’t literally just kidnap you into a shopping aisle demanding for kisses
you always find his bashfulness endearing though, so you rest your hands on his shoulders to balance on your tiptoes and quickly pepper several more kisses over the apples of his cheeks, the tip of his nose and the sharp of his jawline
“i don’t think santa needs rudolph this year,” you tap his nose affectionately, “you’re much brighter”
as you watch yeosang grow even redder at your statement, you wonder how this is the same man who will move heaven and earth to protect you
“y/n? yeosang?”
hongjoong’s voice is frighteningly close and you’re pretty sure he is just in the next aisle over
grabbing the first thing that you see, you clutch the item and the napkins to your chest and walk out to meet your brother
“there you two are,” hongjoong frowns, “what took you two so long?”
you reach out and touch his elbow in apology, “sorry, joong. i needed help finding the plastic plates”
except hongjoong doesn’t think you two are very sorry at all, because not only did he pay, but the backpack stuffed full with the shopping bags is now on his back
“why am i carrying the backpack,” he complains, looking at you and yeosang already mounted on the latter’s motorbike
yeosang smiles innocently and jerks his head back in your direction, “i’ve already got a cute little backpack”
“well that cute little backpack also happens to be my sister so shouldn’t she sit behind me- hey!”
you press yourself closer against yeosang’s back, both of you breaking out into laughter as he revs his bike and leaves hongjoong behind in the dust
your brother flips the bird at your backs, grumbling colourfully under his breath as he twists the throttle on his own motorbike to catch up to you two
and for someone who prides himself in being an observant mafia boss, it takes hongjoong many, many days to belatedly realise that plastic plates were never even part of the shopping list
yeosang gently takes your helmet from out of your grasp and tames an unruly strand of your hair that has become ruffled as you two walk back inside, bypassing seonghwa hanging a wreath on the front door
the eldest watches you two for a moment, seemingly in thought, before he picks up something else to hang up
that’s how, when hongjoong arrives a few minutes later with the shopping, he runs into seonghwa fixing mistletoe to the doorframe of the kitchen
“mistletoe?” hongjoong questions as he places the bags onto the countertop, “the fuck for?”
seonghwa shrugs vaguely, “the couples”
“the only couple i see is the couple of losers over there”
hongjoong stares pointedly into the living room, where san is starting to wriggle under the weight of the ornaments balancing on the top of his head and shoulders and hanging off his ears and fingers, courtesy of wooyoung who is currently yelling out stay still!
except the ornaments all come tumbling off in a flurry of movement when yunho thunders past them, mingi in tow
“snowball fight!!”’
it’s not snowing heavily but there’s a layer of snow thick enough for all nine of you to stumble outside in glee
and as it turns out, yeosang is very serious about his job as your bodyguard
even during snowball fights
jongho and yunho have formed some sort of alliance, so by an unspoken agreement, pretty much everyone else has teamed up in hopes of defeating the formidable pair
(no one’s entirely sure which side mingi is playing for, but he’s having fun scooping handfuls of snow and dumping them onto people, which is all that matters)
hongjoong is busy fending off wooyoung’s snowballs - another person who has broken the unofficial alliance - so yeosang stays close to you
he alternates between adding fresh ammo to your snowball pile and blocking any snowballs that are thrown around
it doesn’t matter if they’re thrown in your direction or not; if yeosang sees a snowball, then he is ready to keep it far, far away from you
somehow, amidst all the chaos, yunho manages to unearth a whole slab of snow that is still intact
he cackles evilly as he lifts it above his head and hurls it somewhere into the centre of the whole group
now, the deadly snow slab is nowhere even close to landing on you
but again, yeosang takes his job as your bodyguard - and boyfriend - very, very seriously
he makes a dive in your direction to take the hit and the angels up in heaven blow their trumpets in celebration when he knocks you over instead and you two fall into the snow together
he lands on top of you, arms bracing himself as he encases your frame underneath him
you’re a little winded - the breath has been knocked out of you, you want to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, and also yeosang looks extremely stunning
you can see every single snowflake that has fluttered down and clung onto his long lashes and soft hair, and it certainly doesn’t help that he’s looking at you with the most tender eyes
“merry christmas,” he murmurs with a smile, “i love you”
the sounds of snowballs breaking and consequent screeches mute themselves into the background, the crystal petals falling from the sky blurring in slow motion as yeosang dips down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss
one of his hands cradles your face gingerly as you sigh into the kiss, almost as if he is afraid you will melt and seep into the snow
jongho is about to take the opportunity to pelt yeosang’s exposed back with snowballs, but pauses his deadly pitch when he sees that the older is actually a little…preoccupied right now
he realises very quickly that not only have you two caught his attention, but you’ve also managed to grab hongjoong’s attention
said man squints his eyes at who he thinks is yeosang and…you?
you’re both awfully close together in a heap on the ground and hold the fuck up are you two kissing?
right before hongjoong can rub his eyes and take a closer look, a snowball is smashed to smithereens against his face
hacking snow out of his mouth, he searches furiously for the culprit, eyes landing on jongho who is staring right back at him with his hand still pitched forward from throwing the snowball
why jongho looks flustered, hongjoong has no idea
but it’s not like hongjoong can take on the younger anyway so he chooses to ignore the snowball and looks back in your direction
…where you and yeosang are both lying on your backs making snow angels
hongjoong frowns, rationalising that the kiss had just been a glitch in his imagination
because surely he would’ve noticed ages ago if you and yeosang were indeed dating
seeing as the leader shrugs it off and drops to the ground to shovel an enormous snowball with renewed vigour, jongho lets out a sigh of relief
that is
until wooyoung very helpfully points out, “why are yeosang’s lips all glossy”
you and yeosang freeze mid-snow angel
like zombies in a horror film, you and yeosang slowly sit up with unease creeping through your bodies as you both look towards your brother
his back is turned, body eerily still
most of the other members have also frozen, snowballs still clutched in their hands as their knowing pupils waver
then mingi also helpfully tacks on, “it looks like he kissed y/n or something”
at his words, hongjoong’s arms start to move again
he does not turn around yet, simply hums and says, “interesting”
yeosang nudges you with an elbow and theatrically whispers, “if we leg it right now, do you think it will notice”
it starts to stand up from its crouching position
“...i think it will, yeo”
hongjoong finally turns around and you can see that, similar to yunho not too long ago, he is carrying a huge slab of intact snow in his hands
what’s different is that hongjoong is most definitely not smiling
you have a feeling that he is going to be putting a new definition to snowball fight
hongjoong approaches with his snow weapon
“snowballs?” he shakes his head mockingly with a frighteningly blank expression
“after today,” his gaze drops down pointedly towards yeosang’s nether region, “no balls”
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san
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you don’t need to rely on your past experience working in an underground casino for you to know what the odds of your current gamble are
you are a mouse walking into the lion’s den
the last time you were with crescent - the mafia gang you had been brought into and was supposedly your family for almost a decade - you were wrongfully accused as being a traitor and had nearly lost your life
now here you are, walking back into crescent’s base with your own two feet just a mere few weeks later
and yet, you are not afraid
your former gang does not know, but tonight, you are the dealer of this poker game
minsu, crescent’s mob boss, leers at the sight of you entering the small building
they do not have many affiliates, having kept their numbers small over the years, but most of them have gathered together for drinks tonight
you already knew this, though
you have chosen to confront them on christmas for a reason
“ahh, merry christmas, darling,” minsu drawls saccharinely, “has santa answered my wishes for a personal slut?”
his words do not register in your ears when your eyes involuntarily flit over to the back of the room
there’s a face sitting in the corner that haunts you
the day you were labelled a traitor, you had been accompanying your capo to make a trade deal with a relatively new gang
the boss of the gang who is currently sitting in the same room as the rest of crescent, comfortable smirk on his face like he wants to show you that he is where he belongs
you realise now that it was a set-up all along
there was no deal to be made and there was no emerging gang
it was - is - crescent against you
looking back at minsu now, you address him, “why did you betray me”
he pretends to look appalled, one hand perched daintily against his chest as his jaw drops
“we saw the way you were getting closer to choi san of ateez,” he spits out san’s name, “and after you betrayed crescent during the trade, you ran pathetically to his doorstep like a damsel in distress, which only proved our suspicions”
he states it so believably, as if your loyalty wavered and led to your own inevitable downfall
it’s all bullshit though
you and san have never interacted outside of the negotiations your gangs made with each other
without anywhere to go after crescent had backstabbed you, only then had you sought san’s help
“so what are you doing back here, darling?” minsu stands up
he stalks closer towards you with fake pity plastered across his face, “to beg for forgiveness? to beg for us to spare your little boyfriend’s life?”
the flicker of fury inside of you is quickly growing into an inferno at minsu’s mocking tone
but before it starts to consume you, a new voice enters the fray
“i don’t think we’ll be the ones begging by the end of the night”
a figure steps in and you hear the sound of metal buckles scraping against the ground as a limp, bloodied body is also dragged along
the person comes to a stop beside you before they toss the body in their grasp carelessly to one side
the familiar lilt of their teasing reaches you
“hey, sweetheart”
the inferno inside you smothers itself out at their words
“choi san,” minsu snarls, hackles now raised at the unforeseen addition of his presence
the rest of crescent also seem to become restless, shifting on the edge of their seats or making a move to stand up
because they’re not foolish
they know san’s reputation for ruthlessness, particularly when someone has wronged him
and by extension-
more footsteps resound behind you
-the rest of ateez
you may be a mouse walking into the lion’s den
but when you have poachers behind your back, it becomes your den
minsu’s face finally drains of all blood when he realises the deep shit he has landed himself in
and so do several others, it seems
you wince slightly in embarrassment when a handful of his men scramble up from their seats and push past the ateez members surrounding you to run out of the building
for a moment, no one dares to breathe as they watch you and ateez with trepidation
san simply raises a brow as his eyes narrow with disinterest
the sounds of the cowards’ feet striking the pavement once they make it out onto the street are suddenly replaced by the crack of gunshots and the distinct thump of flesh falling to the ground
from somewhere up high, yunho chambers another bullet as he stares down the scope of his sniper with impassivity
“anyone else want to give that a try?” san taunts
no one answers
hongjoong finally emerges from the flanks and almost immediately, the already-frigid atmosphere drops another several degrees
“a gang of members who have no qualms betraying their own will only end up destroying themselves eventually,” he calmly approaches minsu, who shuffles backwards in response
hongjoong continues, “as much as crescent isn’t worth my time, i don’t really feel like waiting for that day to come”
before anyone can react, he swipes a glass bottle from one of the tables and swings it across minsu’s head
the latter stumbles backwards in shock with a hand flying up to stem the blood flow coming from his temple
ateez do not need a further command
all at once, the members jump forward bloodthirsty for vengeance, save for san, who grabs a chair that mingi has quite literally tossed a person off and brings it over for you to sit on
he winks as he quips, “we’ll probably be on santa’s naughty list this year, but maybe if you just watch you’ll get away with it, sweetheart”
san knows you can hold your own in a fight, but he also knows that your ribs are still sore and bruised
so he waits until you sit with a laugh before he turns around to face the others
he doesn’t really care about most of the crescent lackeys
he knows hongjoong and the rest of ateez will wipe them out fine
who he really cares about is that bastard who pretended to lead the fake gang
and that motherfucker minsu
san is going to make them regret hurting you
san is going to make them wish they were never born
he advances towards them with deceptive calmness
minsu is slumped against a table, still licking at his wounds pathetically
he’s only alive because none of the members have bothered with him
san leaves him for the time being and takes out a dagger as he advances upon the nameless member who had duped you
easily evading the man’s frantic punch, san responds by slamming the hilt of his dagger against the other’s temple
the man goes crashing down and minsu tries to scramble away from them in fear
“i would cut your tongue off, since you spew so many fucking lies,” san grips the man’s jaw hard enough that his fingers turn white, “but i don’t want to touch your filthy mouth”
instead, san drags the dagger across the gang member’s throat
blood rapidly gurgles out of the wound as the man’s fingers make futile attempts to grasp san’s hands, but very quickly, he attempts to stem the blood flow instead
but a fence can only hold a dam back for so long
san shoves him aside and lunges for minsu
“your turn,” san smirks
whipping out his pistol, san flicks the safety off and shoots minsu’s hand as the latter lets out a primal shriek of pain
san shoots again, this time at his other hand, once more, through his calf, once more, through his stomach
minsu swears to the high heavens in between wails and howls, begging for san to stop
“what did i say,” san places a foot on his stomach wound and pushes down, “it wouldn’t be me or my sweetheart begging tonight”
minsu’s animalistic cries are silenced with a final gunshot
san exhales and makes his way back to where you are still seated to reassure, “you’ll never have to worry about crescent ever again”
“thank you, san,” you sink into his embrace
you’ll thank the rest of ateez later, but for now, you focus on the man in front of you
“i said that i would protect you, didn’t i, sweetheart?”
he gathers your face in his hands and thumbs the round of your cheeks sweetly
you nod in his grasp, blinking up at him through your eyelashes
“i want to kiss you,” san suddenly confesses, “can i kiss you?”
a teasing smile tugs at your lips, “it’s christmas. shouldn’t you kiss me under a mistletoe?”
san looks up to check, as if he really thinks that a mafia gang’s base would have mistletoe hanging from the ceiling
when he confirms that indeed there is not, his eyes wander around the room for a substitute until something appears to pique his interest
you watch as he unsheathes another dagger from his belt and points it in the direction of minsu’s body
“i can cut his foot off,” san tells you with determination, “then we’d have a minsu-toe”
amidst the last of the fighting amongst the room, someone overhears and chortles at san’s words
“i can’t believe you,” you let out your own laugh
“so…” san beams, “is that a yes?”
“fuck the mistletoe,” you laugh as you pull him forward, “just kiss me already”
and kiss you he does
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mingi
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for the first time ever, you think you hate the snow
even if it’s christmas eve today and it’s the first snowfall of the year
you had been prepared for a peak in business at your little bar, the mist, but with the sudden onset of heavy snowfall and a rapid drop in temperature, you’ve barely had any customers
admittedly, you are used to slow business considering there is a much larger bar, the chilli peppers, just across the street
but not even your few, regular customers have shown up today nor for the past few weeks
you’ve scanned the outside of your bar several times already, each time unfruitful as you are met with an empty street save for the falling snow and soft glow of the streetlamps
sighing, you decide to look out once more before making yourself a mixed drink when you spot a figure walking up to your doors
your breath hitches when you recognise who it is
it’s him
the handsome stranger who, you suppose, is not really a stranger anymore
it has been almost two months since he first took refuge in your bar while being chased by another gang
his visits since have been rare and infrequent, but they will always span late into the early hours of dawn when he does
“hey,” mingi softly greets you as he steps into your bar, a shy smile adorning his face
your stomach flutters as you stand up from your stool, “mingi, hi, hey, i wasn’t expecting you to come today”
you internally cringe at your own words
you hope he doesn’t pick up on the connotation that you wait for him to come on other days
he peers around hesitantly at your words, “should i, uh, go?”
one of your hands reach out in his direction before you even realise what you’re doing
“no- i meant,” you lick your lips, “it’s a nice surprise”
mingi’s shoulders relax
“i heard some areas lost power because of the snow,” he starts to explain, “so i thought i’d come to check on you- your bar”
your heart grows warm at his seemingly nonchalant words
fighting back a blush, you gesture around your bar, “well, i still got power-”
just as it fizzles and dies
the steady hum of the heater in the background of your bar also halts, creating a world of both darkness and silence
startled, you jump slightly
you can hardly see him in front of you as your eyes struggle to adjust to the gloom, yet mingi’s hand naturally finds your searching ones
he slips your smaller hand into his, gently squeezing and rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he soothes, “i’ve got you”
you let out a nervous chuckle, not because you feel awkward but because it feels so natural to be soothed by his touch, and he reciprocates with his own soft laugh
“well,” you look up at him, “looks like business is closed for the night”
his eyebrows knit together in concern, “are you sure? i can call someone to get your power back up and running. i know a person”
he scratches the back of his neck as he continues to ramble, “or they could probably fix your whole area…yeah that’s a better idea, wouldn’t want you getting singled out or anything”
you’re not sure whether to be endeared or to be impressed by his connections
“you can do that?!” you gawk
mingi blinks twice as if to say, you can’t?
laughing, you shake your head and pat his hand that’s still holding yours to tell him that it’s okay
“i wasn’t getting customers anyway,” you reassure
selfishly, mingi is glad that you weren’t busy
because it means that he can have you all to himself
“do you want to stay for a bit?” you offer, “it’s probably not safe to leave with all the snow”
mingi is a member of a mafia gang
snow is the least of his worries
but he nods solemnly in agreement anyway
he thinks that his heart cannot squeeze with any more fondness at your concern until you carefully tug him forward by the hand to lead him up the stairs at the back of your bar, murmuring that there’s another step and the doorway’s a little low
it doesn’t matter that you’ve seen him being pursued by other gang members, or that he smells like gunpowder and has a pistol hidden on him - you still look out for him and mingi has to fight the urge to pull you into a hug
instead, he grips your hand a little tighter under the guise of not knowing where he should be stepping
in reality, he wants to make sure that he can keep you steady should you be the one to trip
usually, when the power cuts out like this, you will simply bury yourself under your covers until you fall asleep
but it seems like it’s a common occurrence now - when mingi is by your side, sleep is easy to forget
so you take him to the small room you’ve leased above your bar and it is as though you have both rediscovered the innocent joys of life
hushed giggles are shared as you rifle through your storage and take turns lighting up the stubborn candles you have found
you nudge him as he nudges you back over where to scatter the candles around the room for maximum brightness, both of you falling into another bout of laughter when a particularly hard nudge ends up snuffing the candles in your hands
mingi takes out his phone and creates a playlist of cheesy christmas songs that he lets run in the background
grabbing your hands, he twirls you around the cramped space of your living room as you flush with joy
you shyly let him lead you through his silly little dances, but very quickly, you are both spinning and jumping and swaying barefoot to the music as the candle flames flicker in tandem all around you
the excitement teeters off slowly as the playlist transitions to slower instrumentals and you realise that without the heating on, your room is starting to become freezing
mingi is first to notice, attuned to the way a quick shiver racks your body
“come here,” he says, arms already moving before he can think better of it
he grabs the blanket that covers the back of your small couch and throws half of it over himself, one arm extending the rest of it so that he can wrap it around your form too
mingi slowly rubs his hands up and down the sides of your arms as he shuffles the two of you over to sink down onto the couch
you have to remind yourself to keep breathing, even as his every touch leaves behind a trail of goosebumps and electricity
“better?” he asks after a while
untrusting of your voice, you nod instead whilst clearing your throat, trying not to chase the feeling of his embrace when he retracts his arms from around you
silence falls upon you two
it’s not uncomfortable
but with the lack of noise to distract you, you are acutely aware of his close proximity and the warmth that he emits from your side
“it’s pretty, isn’t it,” he muses, gaze focused on the falling snow outside the window
“it is…”
…with you here
“you know what they say about the first snowfall of the year?” he nudges you softly
you chew on your bottom lip
shyly, you offer, “that if you confess your love it becomes true,” at the exact same time mingi says-
“that you shouldn’t eat the snow for the first hour or two”
you quickly cough and splutter out a question to cover up your statement, “h-how come?”
“the snow absorbs all the bad stuff in the air when it first falls”
the grin on his face makes you think that he may have heard your answer after all
slightly embarrassed, you avert your gaze and fumble for something to say
mingi saves you though
he points at the clock that has just ticked past midnight
“merry christmas, y/n,” he says tenderly
“merry christmas, mingi”
you relish in the moment, not wanting this night to end
“did you have anything you wanted for christmas?” you ask him
he hums in affirmation, slowly mulling over his next words before he answers, “there was someone i wanted to see”
he’s looking ahead, and from where you’re sitting next to him, shoulders brushing with each slight movement, the warm glow of the candles accentuates the sharp slopes of his side profile
you’ve noted this before, but in this moment mingi is beautiful
“did…did you get to see them?” you’re unsure why you’re holding your breath in anticipation
he doesn’t answer straight away
there’s a beat of silence
then he’s slowly turning his head with a gentle smile
“yeah,” he breathes out, looking at you with his soft, round eyes, “yeah, i did”
with your rosy cheeks and bashful expression, mingi cannot help himself
he confesses
“and i still am”
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wooyoung
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wooyoung very naturally reaches across the counter with the barcode scanner so that he can align the laser with your id badge
he hums happily as your employee discount is applied to the bag of chips he is purchasing
at this point, you don’t even bat an eye
he has long made himself at home in your convenience store whenever you work the night shift
“so,” wooyoung says as he finishes ringing up the price, “why are you working on christmas eve?”
you tilt your head, confused
“why shouldn’t i be working on christmas eve? and why aren’t you working? don’t you need to manage all your lackeys at the boxing rings?”
“no? because it’s christmas eve? everyone takes the week off,” he frowns as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world
you didn’t realise the mafia celebrated christmas too
apparently you say that out loud, because he is suddenly crossing his arms
…a little too defensively for you to take him seriously
“i didn’t know you were the mafia police,” he grumbles, “you gonna pull out a handbook and tell me that section 3.2 bans christmas for the mafia?”
you chuckle as you attempt to appease the childlike fire in his eyes, “sorry, you guys just seem like-”
you think better of your words and pause
“seem like what?”
“nothing”
“what? tell me what you were going to say!”
he pounces on you, attempting to bite your forearm as you squeal and relent
“you guys seem like the type to beat santa up, not celebrate his existence”
he stares at you
you stare at him
“you have three seconds to run,” he tells you
and run you do
filled with glee, you dash out from behind the counter and weave through the narrow aisles in a circle, wooyoung hot on your heels with his own matching shrieks
you both collapse in a fit of uncontrollable laughter when he suddenly switches direction and you end up running straight into his arms
sitting on the dirty floor of your convenience store during the quiet hours of night, your eyes teary from how hard you and wooyoung are laughing, you do not think there is a better way to spend your christmas eve
“i get paid almost double for working today,” you explain when you have both settled back behind the counter, sharing the bag of snacks he paid for earlier
you toss a chip in the air for wooyoung to catch as you continue, “plus, i can’t just take holidays when i want to”
it bounces off his forehead and he fumbles to catch it before it hits the ground
“why not?”
“because my boss won’t let me”
“oh. that’s it?”
“tHaT’s iT? shut the fuck up,” you shove a chip into his mouth as he sniggers
he excuses himself to make a quick call, so you take the opportunity to finish off the remainder of the snacks
hah.
this time, when he walks back in and sees the empty packet, he does bite you
and he makes you buy him another bag as compensation
(honestly, he should be buying you snacks because if you’re honest, you’re pretty sure he has enough money to buy your store and the whole chain)
you’re sharing the second bag of chips - read as: wooyoung being petty and hogging the snacks - when the store is suddenly plunged into dimness for a split second
you look up, blinking as you watch the lights flicker once, twice, and then completely die out with a fizzle
there’s still enough light coming from the frozen section as the standby generator kicks in for you to make out the inside of the store and wooyoung’s raised eyebrow
then the door chimes, alerting you to the arrival of customers
…or not-customers, you suppose
honestly, you should really be used to this by now
two men saunter in with shoulders squared like they own the place
you take one look at their balaclavas and the pistols in their hands and deduce that, “they wouldn’t happen to be some of your friends, right?”
wooyoung steps a little closer to whisper back, “nope”
“well, fuck. you going to do something about them or what?”
“are you kidding me? they’ve got guns”
“you’re part of the mafia. you’re telling me you don’t have one on you?”
he has the fucking nerve to flirt with you as he flexes his arms
“the only guns i got are these bad boys”
the men point their guns threateningly and wooyoung has the common sense to pipe down, both of you raising your hands cautiously
“get in the car,” one of them snarls
wooyoung moves after a split moment of hesitation, arms still raised as he walks towards the door
he looks back at you to see if you are following along, as if you two are taking a walk in the park and not being kidnapped at literal gunpoint
you’re going to roundhouse kick his head off once you make it out of this alive
his stupid gang better be real good at finding people
the kidnappers usher you and wooyoung into the back of a car, a very nice one you must say
it’s spacious and well-cushioned
at least the trip to whatever warehouse or abandoned building they take you to will be a comfy one
the door locks click and you hit the headrest behind you when the driver steps on the accelerator
“jesus christ! can you drive any faster?” wooyoung yells
you jerk your head sideways to look at him in horror
what is he thinking, provoking the armed men like that?
the man in the passenger seat must also share the same thought, because he whips his head around dangerously fast to stare at wooyoung
oh shit shit shit-
he raises a hand
he’s going to shoot wooyoung-
and pulls off his mask
“that’s not what you were saying when you called us 15 minutes ago, wooyoung”
“san?!” you screech in recognition
“hi again, darling,” san greets you with a sweet, dimpled smile, as if everything is okay
the driver also takes off their mask and he looks at you through the rearview mirror as he introduces himself, “hi, i’m mingi!”
you are absolutely incredulous
“you staged a whole fucking kidnapping for fun?”
wooyoung looks overjoyed, “so you can enjoy christmas eve!”
you’re not sure whether you want to laugh or cry at the ridiculousness of the situation
“you do realise the police are going to interrogate me, right?”
“don’t worry. jongho has connections with the police,” san reassures you
“what about the security footage?”
“hongjoong jammed the feed so there’s none,” mingi pipes up
“my boss is going to find out when he comes to check the morning shift”
“nah,” wooyoung waves away your concern this time, “he’ll be out of commission for a solid week or so”
now that catches your attention
sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose as you close your eyes and ask very calmly, “what did you guys do to my boss?”
wooyoung lets out a weak chuckle as he presses himself a little closer to the car door; a little further away from you
“yeosang may have, uh, knocked him out”
at your silence, he scrambles to redeem the situation, tugging at the end of your shirt for forgiveness, “we made sure to give your boss a pillow for his neck while he’s out cold!”
“you’re insufferable,” you tell him, starting to feel exhilarated from the whole situation
“just for you,” wooyoung puckers his lips teasingly
you sigh to conceal the smile that is starting to creep onto your face, but you are weak for him and he knows, so you don’t pull away when he laces his fingers through your hand
“merry christmas eve,” he beams at you
there’s the faint sound of someone gagging
wooyoung’s adoring gaze doesn’t leave you, not even as he kicks the back of san’s chair hard
you laugh, truly happy and free, “you know i’m still going to get fired for this, right?”
there’s silence
“well,” wooyoung contemplates
and for a split second, you think he is going to offer you a solution for the mess he made
but then again, what did you expect from wooyoung
“does this mean we get to spend christmas together then?”
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jongho
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jongho has one hand in the pocket of his slacks
his stance is relaxed, even as his other hand aims the gun at the police officers in front of him
they cower despite the abundance of money piled on the table before them and the stars and service strips that decorate their uniforms
after all, what use is dirty money and corrupt power in the face of death?
pathetic
their pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears
several gunshots ring out, followed by the thud of bodies dropping to the ground
elsewhere, you notice that it’s nearly time for you to clock out
it’s christmas eve and you are not spending a minute longer than you need to here in this hellhole
double checking that your badge is somewhere in your bag, you make a move to leave the police station when there is a sudden influx of noise
pagers beep, phones ring, voices shout
your ears perk up to catch the conversation and you hear the same few names leaving the lips of the police officers around you
the blood coursing through your veins freezes
because you know these names
these names have been burned into your brain, only recently, but still to the point where you can see them clearly whenever you close your eyes
they’re all officials in positions of high power, spending their days in air-conditioned offices and not actually doing anything apart from accepting bribes
but the thing that truly links them together - the secret that quite possibly, of the people in the station right now, only you’ve discovered through your connections - is that they are all involved in covering up the death of an officer five years ago
your father’s death
jongho and his gang have made sure that your father’s murderer has paid the price with his own life-
“all killed?!” you hear the police of chief gush with disbelief
-as have the corrupt officers who buried your father’s case, so it seems
a sense of calm settles over you
the clock tells you that it’s now three minutes past the end of your shift
the news is not a bad note to end on before your two-day christmas break
you sling your bag over your shoulder while the rest of the officers continue to speculate with nervous energy
the police force had no qualms turning their back on you years ago, so neither do you on them
you leave
when you make your way home, back to the modest apartment you now share with jongho, you are greeted by the smell of a cooking meal and the warmth of the blasting heater
you enter the open kitchen whilst removing your scarf
jongho is there in his suit, his coat slung over the back of a chair, tossing an assortment of diced vegetables into a pot of boiling soup
his sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows and you feel your throat go a little dry when the muscles along his forearm flex as he holds up the chopping board
you notice there are streaks of dried blood across his sleeves
and you would be concerned about the blood if this weren’t such a common occurrence
you know now that it’s never his own
when he notices your quiet presence, jongho turns to look at you the same way he always does whenever you come home from work
like he can never quite believe that you’re here with him after so many years apart
he greets you, smiling with anticipation, “did you like my christmas present?”
your mind flashes back to the frenzied panic at the station just earlier
“that was you?” 
the smirk you receive is more than enough of an answer to your question
“you didn’t have to, jongho,” but despite your words, you walk over appreciatively into his outstretched arms
“of course i did,” he shushes you with a deep kiss as his arms wrap around you tightly. “nobody messes with my girl”
his words send a hot rush right through your body
the corner of his lips quirks as he feels you squirm a little in his hold
“cop or not,” he nudges your head to the side so he has easy access to nip at your throat, “you’re mine to protect”
you fist the front of his shirt in an attempt to hold back a needy whine, instead, letting out a shaky breath that does little to hide how affected you are
in a last-ditch effort to take control of the situation, you take a step back and reach into the side pocket of your uniform to pull out your handcuffs
“too bad this cop is going to arrest you for murder,” you joke
jongho cannot help but smile at the cocky facade you put on when your cheeks are so clearly flushed
he brings his wrists together in front of him and offers his hands to you
“are you going to frisk me too, officer?”
when you swallow, now silent, jongho continues, “i might be armed with something that could…destroy you”
a shiver of excitement runs through you and it doesn’t go unnoticed
he steps forward to close the gap between you both, one hand reaching for the handcuffs hanging loosely from your grasp
jongho pauses when his fingers touch the cool metal, waiting for you to look at him properly
you see his eyes darting between your own as he searches for any signs of discomfort or hesitation
can i?
you let go of the handcuffs so that they are in his hold alone
yes
his gaze turns predatory almost immediately
“my turn,” he rasps lowly
he flips you around so that you face the kitchen counter, grabbing your arms and holding them behind you
you are pliant under his touch, but you cannot deny that it turns you on when he is a little rougher with you
jongho cuffs your wrists together and he waits as you tug on them experimentally
you feel the flutter of his fingertips dancing around where the metal surrounds your wrists
“is this okay?” he asks, voice gentle again
you reassure him, “yeah, more than okay,” before you emphasise your words by grinding your ass back against him
he tuts with a chuckle as he stands steady behind you, allowing you to use his rapidly-hardening cock for stimulation while his hands rest on your waist
it’s not enough though
“touch me, please,” you breathe out
“please, who?” he teases, hands sliding up and down your sides but never adding any pressure
your thighs clench because you know exactly what he wants
“please, officer,” you beg
“see, that wasn’t so hard,” jongho whispers right into your ear
the buttons on your uniform blouse are suddenly undone and in one swift motion, he yanks your bra down to expose your breasts
his fingers find your nipples easily, familiar with every inch of your body, and you let out a gasp of pleasure when he pinches them
he pins your hips against the countertop with his own, clothed bulge pressing firmly into you
your cuffed hands scrabble to find purchase when he nudges your legs open with his thigh
but then all of a sudden, his heated touches and wandering hands disappear
the whine you let out at the loss of his presence is almost pathetic as you twist your head around to look for him
“give me a second, baby, i just need to,” he steps over to the bubbling pot of soup and twists the knob down on the stove, “adjust the fire”
you bend forward onto the countertop, exposing the wet patch that you are sure has started to show on the crotch of your pants
“jongho,” you start to beg again, “i want to cum”
“i know, baby, but i don’t want to burn our house down and i want to make sure i get to feed you dinner,” he strides back to you in two quick steps
“now that that’s sorted,” he turns your body around so that you’re facing him, “i think it’s time for my appetiser”
he swiftly tugs your pants and panties down, kneeling to tap on your ankles lightly, a silent request for you to step out of your clothes
he tosses them to one side before his hands come back up to grip either of your thighs so that he can spread your legs
you brace your cuffed hands against the edge of the countertop behind you
it’s not the most comfortable position to be in, but then jongho is using his fingers to spread your pussy apart and your ability to form any coherent thought leaves your body
he blows lightly on your clit, enjoying the way you flinch at the sensation
“look at you,” he drags a fingertip at an agonisingly slow pace through your folds, “already so wet when i’ve barely even touched you”
he holds you still when you try to grind down on his finger
“use your words, baby,” he grins up at you with a smug expression
“i need y-”
he cuts your words right off by attaching his lips to your clit, drawing out a strangled cry of pleasure from you
you feel the long-awaited stretch of your pussy as jongho foregoes one finger and plunges two digits straight into your hole
“fuck!” the curse slips out of you when he sucks and licks your clit in time with the thrusts of his fingers scissoring in and out of you
he curls a finger and your knees very nearly buckle from under you, your back arching as jongho groans against your pussy and continues to abuse the sensitive spot he has found
a pressure starts to build in your core
“i’m close,” you manage to choke out
you miss the moment jongho briefly removes his lips to glance to his side, replacing his mouth with a thumb to rub harsh circles against your clit, before he tells you, “not yet, baby”
“i can’t, jongho, please, let me cum,” you plead
“wait, hang in there a little longer. i know you can,” yet despite his words, he shoves his fingers up harder with renewed vigour
you almost sob from desperation, “wait for fucking what?! your dick isn’t even in me!”
“just a little longer, baby,” he reassures you as your thighs shake around him
you can’t do it anymore
you have to cum
you have to-
“cum,” he simply says, before reattaching his mouth to your clit
your orgasm rips through you and you cannot do anything but tremble and shudder under the administrations of his tongue and fingers
jongho holds you through it all, milking out your orgasm until its very last waves-
just as the timer on the stove goes off
“what the fuck?” you blurt out
your mind is still hazy from pleasure but you’re pretty fucking sure he just timed your orgasm with the stove
jongho licks his fingers with a brazen smile and then goes over to peer into his pot of soup
after he gives it a final stir, he turns the fire off completely and places a lid on the top to keep it warm
you watch, rendered speechless
except when he turns back around, you stay silent for a completely different reason
he eyes you hungrily as he strips his tie and unbuttons his dress shirt
“round two, baby”
he grabs your cuffed hands and guides you towards your shared bedroom, then fishes out the keys from your blouse
you welcome the feeling of jongho unlocking your handcuffs for a moment of rest
settling against the head of the bed, you watch as jongho fully sheds his shirt and lets it drop to the ground
he unzips his slacks and his cock springs free, the bulbous head a tantalising pink as he easily strokes himself to full erection
your pussy clenches desperately around nothing in anticipation and jongho watches your own arousal leak out
he gathers your wrists together once more and pins them above you, handcuffing you to the headboard as you completely submit to him
jongho leans over you and encases your smaller frame with his muscular build
his voice is low and teasing
“you have the right to remain silent,” he says as he aligns his girthy length with your entrance, “but i doubt you will”
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#one day hongjoong's will be pure fluff and you'll be left thirstin#switching it up 😌☝️#we've got joong san jongho now#WDYM THE MAFIA DON'T TAKE ADVANTAGE OF CHRISTMAS AND GO ON A CRIME RAMPAGE ???#WHEN I TELL YOU I LAUGHED SO HARD AT THE INFLATABLE SANTA TAG#PLEASE#the image of him ricocheting off and landing on top like those vids of people bouncing off the boxing ring ropes onto their opponents#HAS ME HOWLING#AND SO DOES THE CERTIFIED ORPHAN#BECAUSE THAT WAS HONESTLY ME IF MY MUM EVER CAME HOME LATE BY LIKE FIVE MINUTES#yun stop shooting bullets and come shoot your shot#i'm waiting 💅#yeo really is just domestic fluffy scarves fluffy mittens fluffy blankets coded#idk i kinda imagined their party to be at someone's apartment so /very technically/ their base has no mistletoe#only broken christmas trees and cookies thanks to joong#OMG I'M SO HAPPY YOU REMEMBERED CCG#didn't use that reference bc i didn't know if many people would have read / remembered the original and the part 2#it's crazy to think how attached we are to a fictional leather coat 🤪#just taking delulu to another levelulu#NAH MAN YOU BEST BET WOO AIN'T MAKING YOU WORK#you gonna be his princess#and you're gonna have to fight him to let you work#JONGHO SMUT JONGHO SMUT JONGHO SMUT INDEED#this is the most amount of tags in a reblog i've ever received#i couldn't even fit it into one screenshot#but this brought me so much joy and laughter#like THANK YOU THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart <333#laura 🦭
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queenofhawkinshigh · 3 months ago
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Chrissy’s tag is from Invisible by Dio.
Eddie’s tag is from Steal Away (The Night) by Ozzy Osbourne.
Laura and Phillip’s tag is from Happy House by Siouxsie and the Banshees.
Jason’s tag is from I’m A Marionette by Abba.
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cl4wingdead · 3 months ago
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how i feel knowing both wolverine and deadpool are canonically queer (wolverine being bisexual and deadpool being pan), multiple characters are implying they want each other (kidpool, bartender, etc), all the positions during the car fight scene were mostly real sex positions (LEG OVER SHOULDER.), wade being hesitant while introducing logan to blind al and logan reassuring him by just a glance was queer-coded, wade and logan basically adopting dogpool and becoming a happy family with logan's daughter laura in the end was very much intentional while marvel bros are fighting over the cause that they are not gay (they are)
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bruciemilf · 3 months ago
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I know this is a DC blog but I NEED dad Logan. Get that murder teddy bear some kids ASAP.
Fancast + non canon Headcanons ahead.
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BOBBY MY BELOVED / 16
“Sure everything in my life is terrible. But at LEAST I’m gay”
Makes pop culture references Logan doesn’t understand. “Logan threw the first brick at stonewall” “what are you SAYING” “he’s an ally”
Can, will, and has gaslight Logan into thinking he’s homophobic just for not letting Bobby do what he wants
Stole a beer from Logan once and they found him drunk crying at 3 am. He calls Logan to apologize about it. “I’m sO sorryyy. You know I love you??” “Go to bed” “noOoo” Logan is next to him.
Has a secret YouTube channel and everyone watches for Logan interactions specifically
Mabel Pines coded
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KITTY… that’s his half pint your honor. / 17
Logan is terrified. Why are you such an easy kid. Why aren’t you rebelling? Why isn’t defiance bleeding on your fists?
Why aren’t you clawing and biting and snarling for your freedom? Why aren’t you being a kid? Who do I have to skin-
Daughters are not supposed to exist quietly.
I hc that Kitty’s family is extremely unsupportive of her being a mutant, — but they’re just traditional in general. Specifically she’s petrified of being around/existing along men.
Certified babysitter when Logan’s not around. She’s so big sister.
“guys!1!11!!!! mr. Logan said not to do that!1!1!1”
Logan BEGS her to be a shitty teenager for like 10 minutes. Be bratty!!! Tell him to fuck off! Throw a tantrum!!!! “But I’m not a kid.” “You’re MY kid.”
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JUBILEEE daddy’s girl / 15
Problem Child TM
Plays Rock n Roll by Avril Lavigne at 4 am to piss Logan and her siblings off when they annoy her
Grounded all the time but if she fake cries Logan will shamefully relent.
Always puts Logan’s patience to the test because she anticipates him leaving/giving up on her
Foster child with issues. She spent half her life looking for people and the other half being abandoned by them. This won’t be any different.
Except Logan is very good at fighting destiny.
Your honor I don’t CARE Logan is made to be a girl dad!!!!
“On the spectrum. Not saying which one”
STRONG she/they energy
Most affectionate with Logan out of all the kiddos. Her love language is terrible pancake making (Logan eats them anyway) and cat cuddling.
ADHD icon
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LAURA (murder baby) / 7
Brings dead birds/mice to her family members (affectionate)
Charles has the bright idea to enroll her in school with the kids. “It’s important for children to socialize with peers their own ages.” “Can’t socialize if they’re all DEAD.”
That meme of the little boy and his father with an arrow in his shoulder
Youngest child privilege
Steals Bobby’s phone and shoot’s hilariously off angle family vlogs. One of them includes her stealing Logan’s motorcycle while he runs after her
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aemondsbabe · 4 months ago
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Oathkeeper
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summary: aemond comes to winterfell to vie for favor and while cregan has his mind set on backing rhaenyra, you remain unswayed. will your indecision be his saving grace?
pairing: aemond targaryen x stark!reader
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, brat taming, aemond is a little shit, choking, mild degradation, oral sex (f receiving), very lyanna mormont coded reader, aemond whimpers, he's down bad tbh he loves it, angst, allusions to violence but no actual violence, please no one kill me for the end lmao, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 6.1k
a/n: happy 3k laura!! i'm so happy to be a part of this collab with you and so many of my other fantastically talented writer friends! check out the full milestone celebration here and the masterlist will be here!
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource
divider creds to @targaryen-dynasty
🦋my masterlist
🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!
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Icy air whips around you as you stand atop one of the many high stone battlements of Winterfell, eyes scanning the horizon; the grey earth and sky seem to meld together as one as the sun sets lower and lower. 
“It is our duty to hear them out, sister,” Cregan rumbles beside you, brow furrowed. Ice glimmers in your periphery when you glance over at him, the great sword strapped over your brother’s shoulder contrasts sharply against the deep black of the furs draped over his body, “If they come to us for aid, we must negotiate.”
The air around your lips turns to mist as you scoff, jaw clenched. Today, of all days, you could do without your brother’s condescending tone. 
“Negotiate,” you echo, pulling the thick white fur of your cloak more snugly over your shoulders as the wind seems to pick up, “They come with hardly any notice, with two dragons, and you still believe this is a negotiation?”
“Sister –”
“To call it anything but extortion is a fool’s game, Cregan,” you keep your eyes straight ahead, focused only on the horizon, when he turns to glare at you, nostrils flared. 
“Need I remind you that we are sworn to House Targaryen? That we have been for –”
“Which House Targaryen?” You swiftly counter, cutting your gaze to his with a biting scowl of your own. The wind gusts again yet you pay it no mind, hardly noticing when a shadow passes overhead. 
An all encompassing roar seems to vibrate the very air around you and you whip your head up just in time to see a behemoth of a beast duck down below the clouds, followed swiftly by a smaller, though no less monstrous, one that lets out a resounding cry of its own. 
“Gods be good,” you sigh, already feeling weary of this whole endeavor; you roll your eyes when you look to Cregan, only to find him positively beaming, entranced. You, however, would not be so easily wooed – of that, you were determined. 
Glowering, you turn your face to the sky once more and watch as the creatures circle one another, huffing when it dawns on you that their movements strikingly resemble two riders racing on horseback, goading and taunting one another. 
Shaking your head, your chest heaves with a tired groan, Seven Hells.
“I shall see you in the Great Hall when you have finished fawning,” you sigh once more before turning, leaving your brother to stand like some open-mouthed whore, gawping at the sky.
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“My Prince and… my Prince,” Cregan’s voice echoes throughout the great stone hall, accompanied by the steady crackle of the enormous fireplace at its back wall, “We bid you welcome to the North, I trust your journey’s were pleasant ones.” 
The tension in the air is nearly palpable as you stand beside your brother, carefully watching the two dragonriders.The one on the left, Prince Jacaerys, stares straight ahead at Cregan, as if he doesn’t trust himself to look anywhere else. His dark brows are set in a slight scowl and his gloved hand hasn’t once risen from the pommel of his sword since he dismounted his dragon, who you’ve been informed bears the name Vermax.
Your gaze, however, seems continually pulled to the right, determined to see through the cool mask of indifference Prince Aemond wears. Unlike Jacaerys, his singular lilac eye had been busy flicking all about the space, though he stood stock still with a haughty manner about him, hands clasped behind his back. 
“‘Twas a fine journey, yes,” Aemond hums, looking first at Cregan and then to you; his gaze is piercing and you can’t help but wonder if the rumors among the smallfolk are true – that he’d replaced his lost eye with some sort of gemstone, “Vhagar and I were fortunate to not encounter… anything of note.”
Your eyes move quickly to Jacaerys, breaking from Aemond’s stare once you catch the pointed tone of his words, slicing through the air like daggers. His jaw clenches, though only for a second, as you silently pray that this does not end in the two men coming to blows, or worse. 
“My journey was quite pleasant, my Lord Stark, thank you,” a small part of you is impressed that he seems determined not to let his emotions run amuck. He steps forward and pulls a rolled piece of parchment from the inner pocket of the thick, fur-lined cloak he wears, “I come with a message from my mother, the Queen.”
Beside him, Aemond quickly steps forward as well, producing a similar scroll, close enough to you that you’re able to just make out an image of House Targaryen’s three-headed dragon embossed on the golden wax seal. “And I come bearing a message from King Aegon, Second of His Name,” he pauses, looking between you and Cregan, glancing almost imperceptibly toward Prince Jacaerys, “Who currently sits the Iron Throne.”
“Usurper,” Jacaerys mutters under his breath, nose twitching in annoyance.
“Say that again,” Aemond’s voice is low as he whips around to face Jacaerys, all but shoving the scroll he brought into your hands. 
“That is my mother’s throne,” the brunette replies, simmering with a barely contained rage as he hands over Rhaenyra’s terms to Cregan in a similar manner, “Your drunken fool of a brother has no right to it.”
Your heart thrums in your chest as they stare one another down, the hostility between them seems to suck all the air from the room and bathe it in a silence you’ve only ever felt in the crypts. 
“And who would bend the knee for a whore with bastard heirs, nephew?” Aemond’s footfalls echo about the hall as he stalks around the other prince, circling him with a goading smirk, “She could not honor the oaths made to her husband, I shudder to think what would become of her promises to the realm.”
Your eyes widen and a gasp is wrenched from your throat when Jacaerys whirls around with a snarl and the sound of metal-on-metal grates through the air as both men unsheath decorated daggers from their belts; they stumble a few steps back, chests heaving as they each wait for the other to make the first move. 
“Do it,” Aemond taunts, lips twisted into a wicked smile while he and Jacaerys circle one another. Raising a hand, he pulls the black leather eyepatch from his face and tosses it to the floor, clearly relishing the way the other prince falters at the sight of his uncovered face. The deep blue sapphire he reveals gleams in the light from the fire, the sight of it makes your breath hitch, “Finish what your bastard brother started, go on.”
“Cease this!” Cregan shouts, voice firm, though he may as well not have spoken at all for all the good it does – each man only sparing him a glance. 
“I did not come to fight you,” the brunette huffs, scowling at his uncle while keeping a firm grip on the hilt of his dagger.
“No?” Aemond questions sardonically, “You’ve no wish to prove your might, hm? To show the realm how strong you are?”
The remark sounds like any other taunt to you, yet something about it seems to make the fire simmering within Jacaerys blaze closer to the surface – too close. You can see it coming before it happens from the way he tenses, from the miniscule twitch of his hand.
Acting quickly, you lunge for the great longsword strapped to your brother’s back and unsheath it without a second thought. Cregan reacts just as swiftly and clambers for you when you turn on your heel and rush over to where the two men glower at one another. From the corner of your eye, you see Jacaerys lunge forward but you cut off his movement as you swing Ice over your head. 
Metal crashes against metal, filling the hall with a shrill clang, before the great sword slams against the stone floor with a cacophonous din. Everything comes to a sudden halt as the loud noise sends a shock through the hall. 
“Enough!” The word leaves your lips as a snarl while you stare between the two men, nose twitching in annoyance, “How dare you sully our home with such feckless, asinine bickering!” 
Each of the princes sheaths his dagger in silence, though you hold the sword between them still, the tip of it digging into the stone as you keep hold of the pommel. “I’ve no doubt that were those creatures outside to engage like this that they could easily rip Winterfell to pieces, stone by stone, and yet they remain peaceful! Tell me, do you have baser morals than that of a beast?” Your voice is low as you speak, every ounce of patience you had for this idiotic farce wrung from you, “Is this the kind of man House Targaryen sets upon the realm?” 
“Apologies, my lady… my lord,” Jacaerys murmurs, glancing between you and Cregan before quickly staring down at the floor, his jaw set. 
You give him a curt nod before training your eyes on the silver-haired prince and narrowing them expectantly; he holds your gaze for only a second before looking off into the fire with a sigh, “Apologies.” 
Cregan reaches for the sword again and this time you relinquish it without a fight, turning your attention back to the two scrolls abandoned on the longtable – one carrying a gold seal, the other a black one, both bearing the three-headed dragon emblem.
Your brother sighs behind you and you can practically feel him throwing an icy glance at the two men before he joins you at the table, leaning back against the edge of it and crossing his arms over his broad chest. 
“We will hear your terms,” he starts, ignoring the way your head whips around to face him, “As is our sworn duty, but there will be no violence in these halls.”
“No.”
“Sister –”
“Not tonight,” you shake your head firmly, glancing over your shoulder at the princes before leaning closer to Cregan, voice low enough that it doesn’t carry in through the hall, “‘Tis late and they are on edge as is. Any negotiations will not go peacefully tonight.”
He turns his head toward you with a soft sigh; you tilt your head just slightly when your eyes meet, communicating silently, with only a look, as you have since the two of you were small. 
“Please,” you think, your gaze flicking between his blue eyes, lips set in a firm line, “Listen to me, just this once.”
Finally, after a long moment, he simply nods and looks back at the two men still standing in the hall, looking pointedly away from each other now. 
“We will hear your terms in the morning,” you announce, turning to face them, your expression set and neutral, “The hour is late and I imagine the two of you are tired from your travels, the –”
“Lady Stark,” Aemond starts, stepping forward, jaw clenched with barely contained annoyance, “W–”
“We will hear your terms in the morning and that is final, my prince,” you repeat, enunciating each word firmly, leaving no room for whatever argument he was intending to make. You glance between the two men again, watching as he gives a polite, stiff nod. 
Sighing tiredly, you give Cregan one last withering look before turning on your heel. “The servants will show you to your quarters,” you call over your shoulder, grabbing the gold sealed scroll from the longtable on your way to the doors without sparing the men another look. 
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By the grace of the Gods, you manage to have a few peaceful hours to yourself. The castle remains quiet, save for the usual bustling of various servants and guards. The crackling of the small hearth in your chambers is the only sound that accompanies you while you read over the terms Prince Aemond brought with him, which were fairly generous, all things considered. 
Only one point gave you pause, perhaps King Aegon’s greatest gift – the offer of his brother’s hand. You wrinkle your nose in disgust when you read over that bit, although you had expected it. It’s no secret that you, Winterfell’s greatest prize as you’d been told time and time again since you were old enough to even somewhat comprehend the idea of marriage, are unclaimed. Of course the Greens would exploit that, the Blacks probably did as well.
Of course any other weaker Lady would take the offer. 
Unconsciously, you clench your jaw as you gaze into the fire, watching the flames dance while you think over the terms set before you, etched cleanly on the parchment. You get up from your place at the desk to go see if Cregan has finished reading over Rhaenyra’s terms, quite curious to see what it is she’s offering up. 
“Gods!” You exclaim when a sudden knock at your chamber door cuts through the peaceful silence of the night, startles you enough that you grab at the edge of your desk to keep the bottle of ink there from spilling. Corking it, you let out an annoyed little grumble as you stand.
“Enter!” You call out, smoothing out the silken, fur lined fabric of your evening robes, the soft blue color sparkling like seafoam in the light from the fire. Your brows pinch together in equal parts annoyance and intrigue as a certain white-haired prince saunters through the door, his lips set together in a firm line, as if deep in thought. 
“Prince Aemond,” you huff, bristling when he closes the door behind him, “The hour is quite late, surely whatever you’ve come for can wait until the morning.”
He pauses at that, not moving from his place in the entryway. Confusion wells up within you when he doesn’t meet your gaze, his lilac eye blinking as his lips open just slightly – something clearly weighs quite heavily on his mind. 
“I apologize for the late hour, my Lady,” he murmurs, finally looking up as he takes a few steps into your chambers, arms clasped behind his back, “But I do not think the matter can wait until morning, no. I don’t believe that would be wise.”
“Speak, then,” you nod with a sigh, resting against the arm of a small sofa by the fire. You try your best to hide your annoyance, feeling certain that whatever the Prince had come to you with is not nearly as serious as he seems to believe.
Aemond remains quiet for a few seconds more and you can practically see the wheels turning in his brain, something brewing just below the surface. “I… Did you intend to make a fool of me, Lady Stark?”
“What?”
“I’m aware that my coming, and that of my nephew, were… sudden,” he continues, leaving you utterly perplexed, which only makes you clench your jaw, already exasperated at this entire exchange, “But, had you and Lord Cregan made it clear that you had already come to an agreement, I could’ve left — been on my way to the Stormlands and saved us all the trouble.” 
“Seven Hells, why must he speak in riddles,” you think, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching your brow tiredly. 
“Prince Aemond, perhaps I could be of some help if you spoke your concerns more plainly,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and peering at him once more, “However, I can assure you that Cregan and I have decided nothing. He and I have planned to take the evening to read over yours and Prince Jacaerys’s terms, which we will discuss in the morning.” 
“Mm, then am I to believe that your lord brother plots without your knowledge, my Lady? I find that hard to believe.” 
“Excuse me?” 
Aemond paces, smirking as he traipses back and forth before you, acting like he can see clearly through some false plot you’ve set… if only you’d set one at all. 
“I overheard them, Cregan and Jace, in the library — I cannot seem to find sleep and thus was wandering the halls,” he murmurs, quickly explaining his actions before you have time to ask, “Surely you’re aware that your brother intends to support my traitorous sister.” 
His words should come as a shock, that Cregan would do something like this behind your back, and yet you can’t find it within yourself to be truly surprised. Ever since he’d become Warden of the North, he’d become… hardened, even to you. Before, he would’ve never dared do this, would’ve considered your thoughts as carefully as his own, but not anymore. 
“My brother may be decided,” you start, voice clipped, “But I have yet to come to a decision.” 
The prince hums yet again, something he seems to do often much to your great displeasure. He studies you for a moment, lilac eye never wavering from yours, before looking away with a tsk. “And yet, from what I overheard, he seems quite convinced that you have.” 
You scoff at that and push yourself off the arm of the sofa, placing your hands on your hips as you blink at him for a moment while the corners of your lips twitch with the threat of a smirk, “I must confess, my Prince, but I do not know how to proceed. We seem to be at an impasse – I assure you of one thing and yet you cling to your belief in another.”
“So it would seem.”
His calm reply does nothing to lessen your irritation and your chest heaves with a sigh, jaw clenching. “Well, then,” you huff, no longer patient enough to keep the frustration out of your tone, “What would you have me do, hm?”
“Perhaps,” your eyes narrow at the indifference with which he speaks – an act, you’re sure of it, “It would bring me some comfort if we could come to some… agreement of our own. As your brother and my nephew seem so eager to do.”
“As I’ve said, I do not wish to discuss the matter further. ‘Tis late, my Prince, and I see no point in staying up half the night to do something that can be accomplished just as well tomorrow.”
“Mm,” he hums, pacing around you and further into your chambers, to your great annoyance. You turn, watching him as he saunters through the space, acting as if it’s his own, only to come to a stop beside your desk. 
An exasperated sigh leaves your lips just as he feigns surprise at seeing the scroll he’d brought with him unfurled over the wooden surface, “But, you have read the king’s terms, no? Surely discussing them would not take long.”
“Discussing them, no,” you acquiesce, gritting your teeth, “My thoughts of accepting them, on the other hand…”
You can tell he’s only half-listening as you speak, focused on reading over the notes you’d scrawled in the margins of the document – questions of various assurances and the like… aside from one particular line which you’d hastily crossed through. A shiver goes down your spine when his eye trails up from the parchment to once again meet yours, darkened with some new sense of resolve.
“You are aware that the crown has the ability to strip you and Lord Cregan of your titles, yes? Especially if I were to inform my council of your plot against me…”
Your heart quickens at his warning, thumping meanly in your chest while you try to process his words. “All this over a simple marriage offer?” You think as your brows pinch together in a scowl; you do not take kindly to such threats.
“Over my brother’s right to the throne…,” Aemond murmurs and it’s only then you realize you must’ve spoken aloud, not hearing your own words due to the turmoil in your head, the rush of blood in your ears, “Over my family’s safety, yes. I would be willing to dole out harsher reminders as well, if need be.” 
“You must understand, this is not a slight against you, nor your council,” fire rages within you as the winds outside pick up, howling throughout the castle, “I have no want to be bound to anyone –”
“Think of the station you’d have,” he cuts you off, determination seeming to well up within him the same way it does you; each of you is ready for a fight, “The power you could wield in King’s Landing, everything you could do to benefit –”
“You could not drag me from the North kicking and screaming, I have no desire to go –”
“My Lady, you are intelligent, ‘tis plain to see,” he murmurs lowly, indignation finally managing to bleed through his placid exterior while he paces about, circling you just as he did Prince Jacaerys, “Surely you realize that your talents will be wasted here, squandered to the cold, frozen waste –”
“Do you think insulting my home is the way to win me over, my Prince?”
“Mm,” his dismissive hum alights a spark within you and your hands curl to fists at your side, “No, though I suspect flattery would do no good either.”
His words are sharp, spoken with the sole purpose of cutting into you, yet all they draw is an angry huff. You can see his eye narrow in your periphery, can feel him studying you, no doubt trying to find a way to make you crack. 
A part of you hopes he’ll succeed. 
“So, you see, I’ve no other choice than to resort to threats,” he hums, long silken hair swaying over his shoulders as he finally comes to a stop before you, close enough that you’re forced to raise your chin to maintain eye contact. 
“Should you be fool enough to try, you will not succeed in taking the North, my Prince,” you say softly, a quiet calm blanketing your fury just as snow blankets the fields outside, “Even Aegon the Conqueror could not, surely you know that.” 
Something dangerous flashes in his eye at that and your eyes narrow with the knowledge that you’ve crossed some invisible boundary, gone a step too far. 
He stays quiet for a moment, just long enough for the eye of the storm within you to pass, for the maelstrom to be ignited once more. 
“Surely you’ve heard tale of the wrath the Conqueror brought upon Harrenhal, Lady Stark,” his voice is low when he finally speaks, though there is no softness to it; only a harshness, a finality, that would surely make anyone else grovel for forgiveness at his feet, “Reduced to a pile of ash and molten stone… even now, more than a century later, it stands as a ruin – a cursed place…”
Your jaw clenches tightly at his words, eyes narrowing as you stare into his own as if challenging him to say it, to finish his threat.
“It would be quite a shame if that same doom was brought to Winterf–”
Aemond lets out a grunt when his back thuds against the stone wall behind him, gasping and caught off guard by your sudden advance. 
“Have you no shame?” Your words are biting as you snap at him; fury pours off of you in waves, your entire being concentrated down into rows of gnashing teeth, “You come into my home, unbidden. You threaten to spill blood in my hall, you feel entitled to my time and my space and my thoughts and my hand, all unbidden.”
For the first time all evening, the prince seems to have no response, not even a condescending hum. He stands frozen on the spot, held against the wall by your forearm pinned across his chest. The air feels like it evaporates from the room, leaving the two of you in some sort of bubble where the only sound is Aemond’s harsh pants. You see his angular nose twitch and his lips press firmly together as a sneer forms on his pale face. 
There’s a cruel, almost savage, gleam in his eye that should scare you, that maybe actually would, were it not for the soft pink flush spilling across his cheeks and an undercurrent of something resembling shame in his gaze – the expression of a child being scolded by a parent, caught doing something they shouldn’t. 
The strangeness of it brings you to heel for a second, only for the anger within you to flare up once more when he starts to open his mouth, starts to push himself off of the cool stone at his back. 
“Don’t,” you huff, narrowing your eyes and pressing back against his chest. A bitter laugh bubbles up from your throat as you stare at him, surprised once more when he quickly gives in and lets you push him back, “I bet you’re quite used to getting your way, hm? You’re a prince of the realm, of course you are.”
With each passing second, your ire for him seems to be slowly replaced by a growing curiosity — Why isn’t he fighting back? What kind of game is he playing at? 
“Entitled prince,” your heart quickens when his breaths start coming more harshly and his chest heaves against beneath your arm, “You hold no power here.” 
Aemond’s nostrils flare and his lilac eye narrows, just as fiery and intimidating as before. Your lips part when his hands come to rest on your waist, far too delicately for the situation. 
“Might I remind you,” he mutters, a rumble to his voice that hadn’t been there before, “That the crown—“
“The crown, the crown, the crown,” you lean in, nearly on your tiptoes, just a hair’s breadth away from touching your nose to his. Without considering the movement, your free hand wraps itself around his pale neck, not squeezing but merely resting there, pressing against his Adam’s apple — a reminder for him to remain silent, “Why is it that you lean so heavily on something you do not even have, my Prince?” 
You can feel him swallow against the palm of your hand, once again not fighting back. Though, it’s only when you meet his half-lidded eye and see that heady, shameful spark hiding there does the truth finally hit you. 
“Gods, he likes this,” your eyes widen ever so slightly at the realization, such a mighty, fearsome prince and yet he’s all but melting under your touch. The feeling is rather intoxicating and you feel a rush of power flow through you, making the hair at the nape of your neck stand on end. 
“I don’t see a crown on your pretty head,” you continue leaning into the feeling, intending on leveraging his submission to whatever extent you can, “Doesn’t that bother you, Aemond? Hm? Being reduced to the second son when you could’ve been so much more…”
“V-Vhagar could—“
“Vhagar could do nothing,” your fist tightens around the column of his throat as you press yourself more tightly against him, the thin fabric of your evening robe the only thing separating you from the warm black leather of his tunic, “Not if I take my brother’s sword and go slit her great belly myself.” 
He balks at that, brows furrowing as he stares at you — half in fury, half in wonder. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off again, not interested in hearing another half-baked threat. 
“Does it bother you that I don’t find you the least bit intimidating?” You question, narrowing your eyes at him. 
A grin blooms on your lips when he just barely shakes his head, the movement so subtle and so quick that you hardly catch it — though it sends lightning down your spine all the same.
“No? It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Again, he shakes his head, more firmly this time; his throat bobs beneath your grip, “Do you like it? That you can’t scare me?” 
He nods — not good enough. 
“Say it,” you command, tightening your grip on his neck once more. 
“I… I like it…,” he answers after a long moment, his voice hardly a whisper.
“Good boy.” 
He whimpers, the small sound vibrates against your hand. A shock goes through you and before you can fully register what you’re doing, you release his chest and neck and haul him toward your bed — that barely there whine enough to ignite a fire in your belly. 
You can see the confusion written plainly on his face when you sit on the edge of your mattress and gaze up at him expectantly, you try not to focus on the little flip your heart does at the fact that he’d followed you so willingly, like a little puppy. 
“Kneel,” you command, nearly giddy when he actually does, actually sinks to his knees before you. You lean forward and quickly tug off his eyepatch, eager to see the sapphire once more, and again, you’re shocked when he doesn’t put up a fight. 
Tossing the small scrap of leather to the side, you stop for a moment and admire the glimmering gemstone, even admiring the long, thin scar that adorns his otherwise flawless face. 
“You’ve been a thorn in my side all evening,” your fingers card through his hair while you speak, your voice low, hardly louder than the crackle of the logs in the fire, “Starting fights, coming to my chambers in the middle of the night for matters I said I would not be discussing, talking back… and I can think of much better uses for this mouth.”
Aemond’s breath hitches when you cup his jaw and skim a thumb over his bottom lip, grinning when he just barely follows your touch. With your free hand, you tug your robe open at the slit going up your leg, just enough to show him you’re bare beneath it.
“If… if I do this, you’ll back Aegon?” He rasps, staring up at you from his place on the floor as his hands come to rest gingerly on your thighs, “You’ll agree to his terms?”
“Of course…”
“… All of his terms?”
“All of them,” you echo breathily, sighing softly when he leans in and kisses the top of one knee, a smug grin on his lips despite the situation. 
If only he didn’t make this so easy. 
“Enough talking,” you grab at his pale hair and shamelessly pull him to where you need him, smirking at the little gasp that leaves his lips once he’s face to face with your center, “Show me what it is I’ve agreed to.”
For all his faults, Aemond doesn’t make you wait and quickly dives in — licking a solid line up the middle of your folds, groaning as he goes. His hands tighten around your thighs and he eagerly spreads them wider, shifting on the floor until he’s pressed closer to you. 
“Oh, f-fuck!” You gasp, leaning back on an elbow, though you keep a grip on his hair and use it to drag him directly to your aching pearl, arching your back when he hungrily suckles at it. His eagerness makes the fire in your belly burn bright right away and you swallow thickly, battling against the dryness at the back of your throat. 
Aemond growls against you and dutifully licks over your bud, flicks his tongue against it again and again until your head spins. Your thighs tighten around his head but he’s quick to press against them once more and hold you open, fingers digging into your supple flesh. 
“Good boy,” you pant, relishing the way his eye rolls back. Biting at your bottom lip, you yank his hair once more — guiding him to your entrance. He catches on quickly and another almighty gasp is wrenched from your throat when he pushes his tongue inside you, making you shiver. 
“Seven Hells!” Your hips buck against his face of their own accord when his angular nose brushes against your pearl, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine. Your walls clench down around his tongue, pulling twin whines from the both of you. 
Knowing you won’t be able to hang on for much longer, you press his face against your core and rock your hips more earnestly against his face; your eyes nearly go cross when he groans deeply against you, squeezing at your thighs hard enough to surely leave behind bruises. 
“T-That’s it, that’s it,” you chant, chest heaving. It feels as if lava flows through your veins each time he presses his tongue against you, the fire inside you burning brighter by the moment. 
Suddenly, he moves on his own accord and nips softly at your pearl before suckling at it once more. The sudden turn of events causes you to snap and finally slip over the edge, making fireworks explode behind your eyelids. 
“A-Aemond, Gods!” You cry, harshly tugging at his hair, nearly ripping it from its roots as pleasure beats against you in waves. You’re so lost within yourself that you hardly hear him growl against you, low and heady. 
You shove him away after a moment when his touches begin to border on overstimulation and lie panting on the bed, dropping to your back against the warm blankets and staring, half-lidded, at the ceiling. 
You can hear the shuffle of his clothes as he pushes himself up off the floor but you don’t bother sitting up, limp still from your peak. It’s not until he speaks that you finally look up. 
“I take it I’ve fully persuaded you, then?” He hums, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Leaning up on your elbows once more, you look him over — taking in the flush on his cheeks, the way his chest thrums under the dark leather of his tunic, the evidence of his arousal pressing tightly against the ties of his trousers. 
Gods, what a desperate thing — wanting so badly for validation.
“Well, I’ll still need to read over Rhaenyra’s terms…”
“But —“
“But nothing,” you snap, sitting up once more on the edge of the bed, “I must at least operate under the pretense of being fair, no? Cregan will know if I don’t come to collect the papers your nephew brought.” 
Aemond nods stiffly, lips set in a thin line as he looks you over. Your heart speeds up just slightly when his lilac eye pauses at your chest, darkening at the way your robe has loosened, showcasing your cleavage. 
“True,” he acquiesces, brushing a lock of hair from your shoulder, “It would be smartest for us to be careful now…” 
He leans down, intending to kiss your cheek, perhaps even your lips or neck, but you put a hand up to stop him — shaking your head with a small smirk and a raised brow. 
“That’ll be all.” 
His brows furrow at your words, eye searching your face, “I thought —“
“I need to rest,” you cut him off, nodding to the door, “Goodnight, my Prince. I hope sleep finally finds you.” 
“I…” he starts, staring at you for a second, absolutely crestfallen, before simply nodding. “Lady Stark,” he mumbles, finally turning and seeing himself out, hands clasped behind his back. 
“Poor thing,” you think with a sigh as soon as your door shuts behind him, “He has no business here.” 
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You’re hit with a wave of deja vu as you take your place next to Cregan, each of you standing before the long table at the head of the Great Hall. Once again, the place is as silent as a crypt, the only sound being the steady crackle of the fireplace. 
You stare straight ahead, focusing intently on the opposite wall while your brother addresses the two princes — exchanging morning pleasantries and worried smiles. Throughout his small speech, you can practically feel Aemond’s gaze on you, like he’s determined to sear a hole straight through you. 
“I have read your terms carefully, both of them,” Cregan states, each of the scrolls laid out on the table behind you, “And I propose that House Stark honor will keep faith with its alliance to Lady Rhaenys, in memory of the oath we once swore to King Viserys.” 
“Very well,” Prince Jacaerys nods, giving your brother a small, polite smile and grateful nod. 
“And what say you, my Lady?” Aemond cuts in, determined to force your hand, for you to make good on your assurances from last night. 
The desperation in his eye almost makes you feel bad.
With a sigh, you finally look up at him for the first time all morning, immediately noting the dark circles beneath his eye. Breaking from his intense, nearly pleading gaze, you look toward Prince Jacaerys with a small smile.
“I’m afraid I must agree with my dear brother,” your voice is cold, emotionless as it rings throughout the stony room, “House Stark will not be breaking its oath today.” 
Aemond lets out a sharp, stuttering breath, as if he’d been punched in the gut and his shoulders sag in defeat. 
And you almost feel bad, only for a moment. 
Almost.
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My takeaways from attending the Yellowjackets Vulture Fest panel
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If you saw me and my friend trying and failing to carry 7 alcoholic beverages into the room, no you didn’t
•There will be a Season 3 announcement this upcoming Tuesday that fans have been “waiting for” and “expecting” for a while.
•I’m just going to come out and say it: Ella Purnell is definitely returning for Season 3. The interviewer asked if there is a chance of Jackie returning in flashbacks or hallucinations this season, and the writers all shared a knowing look, giggled, wiggled their eyebrows, and said “Maybe” with a smile. She’s coming back for sure guys.
•The writers were asked to rate the level of gore in Season 3 on a scale of 1-10, and they said, at certain points in the season, it will be a 9.5
•Van was originally supposed to die in the wilderness but the writers loved Liv Hewson’s performance so much that they decided to keep Van alive.
•Laura Lee was also supposed to die earlier (in episode 2) but the writers loved her character so much that they decided to keep her around until episode 8 instead (and they took great joy in writing her trying to fly that plane).
•The writers emphasized that the two sides of Taissa are not meant to be “good” and “evil” but rather “pragmatic” and “primal.” The “bad one” is really just more uninhibited, more open to the spiritual, ethereal side of things while the side of Tai we know and love is the more practical and logical side that is skeptical of the wilderness.
•Shauna is said to be the “core” and “impetus” of the events of the show. They also said that she best represents the duality of the primal nature of the wilderness and the pragmatism of civilization.
•Shauna eating Jackie was said to be both an act of “hatred” and “love.” Shauna consumed her both to as an act of worship and wanting Jackie to always be a part of her, as well as an act of “domination.”
•It was also emphasized that Shauna drawing the queen card in the adult timeline is not a coincidence and definitely holds significant meaning. The writers seemed hesitant to expand on that meaning, so I have a feeling it has something to do with adult Shauna’s storyline in Season 3 and beyond. In my opinion, Shauna drawing the queen card was symbolic of her assuming a leadership role in the adult timeline that will play out in Season 3.
•It was also said that Natalie’s death in the adult timeline is very much connected to her drawing the queen card in the teen timeline. They implied that her drawing the queen, in a way, lead to her eventual death. I’m wondering what this means for Shauna drawing the queen card in the adult timeline?
•Some of the actors wanted to know how their stories are going to play out, and some of them did not. Samantha Hanratty was named as one of the actors that does not want to know her character’s future and doesn’t read the adult timeline scripts to avoid the influence of them on her portrayal of the character.
•Natalie was specified as the “moral code” of the group, which is why the writers say she is so impacted by Javi’s death, as it goes against her moral code. This is part of the reason why she is so “broken” in the adult timeline.
•Natalie’s death was planned from the beginning. The writers confirmed that Natalie hallucinating Misty at the bonfire in the pilot episode was intentional foreshadowing and a “prophetic moment” for Natalie. This moment was said to foreshadow both that Misty would become an important figure in Natalie’s life one day and that she would be the “mechanism of Natalie’s death.” The writers said that Nat was always meant to die at some point, but they weren’t sure initially when it was going to happen. They said they decided on the end of Season 2 because things were just starting to go well for Natalie, she was just starting to heal, and therefore she had to die.
•The writers pointed out the impact of seeing Misty, a character who does not usually express genuine emotion (when she does it’s usually in a manipulative manner), fully sob and express genuine horror and grief during Nat’s death scene.
•Jeff was originally just meant to be an “accessory” to Shauna, but he gained more meaning and importance to the show as the writers loved Warren Kole and his portrayal of Jeff.
•For season 3, the writers were pretty tight-lipped, but they did say that they are very proud of the season and excited for people to see it. They said that there will be an interesting dynamic in that the winter will be over in the teen timeline, so the characters will have to grapple with what they’ve done now that they’re out of the dire situation they were in in the winter. They said this will have a great effect on their psyches and group dynamics.
•Joel McHale was cast after Ashley Lyle met him at a party of some sort (and Lyle admitted she was drunk during the encounter) and, after he said he was a fan of the show, Lyle basically said “Oh well I have a part in Season 3 for you” and he was cast.
•They were asked directly about the Eden lawsuit, and they had a little giggle about it and admitted that they’ve never seen that movie, and they’ve been very upfront about their influences (Lost, Alive, etc.) They obviously couldn’t say much more about it, but it was funny seeing them react.
•The writers emphasized the distinction between “fan appreciation” and “fan service,” and they said that, while they occasional look at fan feedback on Reddit and Twitter, they keep that feedback out of the writers room. This is actually very comforting to me, I was worried about Season 3 falling into the fan service trap. I am glad the writers are sticking with their intuitions and original intentions for the show.
So excited for Season 3 and so grateful these amazingly talented writers and showrunners are at the helm of it!
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dqrciedaily · 8 months ago
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baby arsenal, arsenal wfc x teen!reader
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a/n: y/n is so younger me coded minus the fact that she is german
also promise more fics coming soon x
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y/n y/l/n, the sixteen year old rising star of not only the german national team but also arsenal women's football club, had seamlessly transitioned from the bustling streets of cologne to the vibrant city of london. her two older brothers, max and louis, had started her passion for football from a young age, sculpting her into the strong defender she was today. they always had her in the garden with them having a kick about before urging their father to let her go for trials at the local club, which deemed to be extremely successful.
arsenal had scouted y/n whilst she was playing for fc köln. three weeks later her and her parents were signing papers and organising living arrangements as well as the school situation. they settled on her living with lia as well as her attending the local school in the area.
as the first initial weeks passed, her once shy demeanor melted away, replaced by a vibrant personality that charmed everyone around her. she had also very quickly picked up the name ‘baby arsenal’ from fans and soon her teammates had started calling her that too. kyra and y/n had almostly instantly became friends, pulling y/n out of her nonexistent shell within two weeks, along with victoria, teyah and laura, y/n settled in quickly.
one friday evening, y/n found herself invited to a party by her school friends. eager to fit in with the english teenage life she hastily accepted. embracing the opportunity to get to know her new friends in a different environment, as well as allowing herself to fully relax since moving to the foreign country.
ignoring the cold english weather, y/n slipped on one of her favourite backless black dresses and a pair of her friend’s high heels, that her long legs definitely weren’t accustomed to. many pre drinks later they arrived at the party at nine pm, the minute the group of girls arrived at the party they were straight into the open arms of their other friends. music was blaring as y/n slowly let herself relax, she couldn’t even remember how many new people she had met.
however, the temptation of the party proved too intoxicating, the drinks flowed freely, and before she knew it, the world was slowly tilting on its axis, spinning out of control as she succumbed to the intoxicating haze. the party deemed to be a bit boring now that it had reached past eleven pm, so on her unsteady feet y/n managed to walk out the party and onto the side walk. with her vision blurred and her balance faltering, she fumbled for her phone and dialed kyra’s number, interrupting what was supposed to be a cozy game night for the rest of the team.
"ky! oh my goodness i can’t believe you picked up, i have so much to tell you!” y/n giggled into the phone, "there were like so many pretty girls here tonight and i’m bloody freezing over here. i also had so many drinks! oh and I can't get home. oh and have i ever old you how much i love you! ich liebe dich ky ky…"
throughout the phone call kyra switched it onto speakerphone meaning that everyone could hear the state y/n was in. without hesitation, steph, one of y/n’s self-appointed team mums sprang into action. definitely breaking some speed limits as she rushed to y/n’s location, she found her disoriented but relieved to see she was still standing. quickly getting out the car she wrapped an arm around her guiding her to the
upon their arrival back to lia’s house, leah, kim, lia, beth and steph gathered around y/n, their concern evident in their expressions. "y/n," kim began, her voice gentle yet firm, "you can’t be going around getting drunk, especially at sixteen! what were you thinking?" but before kim’s rant could continue leah placed a hand on the skippers shoulder, “you're young, and we understand that, but you have to be responsible, especially considering the position you're in.” kim nodded her head in agreement before saying, “you're part of this team now, and that means holding yourself to a higher standard than this.”
with a deep breath, she nodded in acknowledgment, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "i'll do better, i promise."
with that kyra, stina and laura lead her upstairs. the high heels long forgotten in the hallway as steph urged her to take them off after watching her stumble around in them. laura mumbled soothing words in german as she slipped an oversized t-shirt over y/n’s head, letting the dress fabric pool at her ankles. stina handed laura shorts for her whilst kyra rummaged around in the bathroom for makeup remover.
with tender care, kyra removed the remnants of makeup on her face, before stina tucked her into bed with gentle hands. laura laid the dress over the back of her desk chair as y/n’s eyelids drooped with exhaustion, her body finally catching up with the events of the evening as she sank into the embrace of her plush duvet.
kyra brushed a stray lock of hair from y/n’s forehead, with a final exchange of reassuring smiles kyra, stina and laura bid her goodnight, their footsteps fading into the distance as they left her to sleep. alone in the quiet of her room, y/n closed her eyes, a sense of peace washing over her as sleep overcame her senses.
but just as she began to drift into slumber, a soft knock sounded at her door, and lia entered, her face lit up by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. In her hands she carried a glass of water and a small packet of tablets, her expression one of concern and care.
"here you go, y/n/n," lia said softly, her voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. "drink this, and take these tablets. they'll help with the headache in the morning." she sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on y/n’s leg, rubbing soothing circles on it. “they’re not mad at you i promise maus. let’s just keep the drinking on the cool for now, okay?”
y/n accepted the water and tablet with a grateful nod, as lia got up to leave the room she turned off the bedside table before whispering “schlaf gut maus.” the door closing behind her, the room going pitch dark allowing y/n to finally drift to sleep.
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sugarybitterness · 2 months ago
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hidden trick - natasha romanoff x daughter!reader
word count: 1,811
a/n: guess who’s back! tbh this is very reader centric, with hints of wanda x r .. idk if ill write more for this but you never know ! anyways i hope not too rusty and that you enjoy this little fic <3 i hope to finish a work from swll soon so lets hope that happens hehe anyways! feedback always welcome and appreciated mwah
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your leg bounces up and down nervously as you sit in the quinjet with bruce. at age sixteen, you are currently the youngest (and only) avenger in training. if it were up to your mother, you would be safe in the tower with maria hill but you are a valuable asset. you are the hidden trick the avengers have up their sleeve.
you were found in an abandoned hydra base by clint barton, having been left to die after the scientists had no use for you. in the two years you were with hydra, they had tried countless of experiments on you, each one seemingly failed. what they didn’t know was that one of them had worked- you were now enhanced. but your powers always had a mind of their own, and it had kept itself hidden- up until you were taken in by clint and laura.
it was one of laura’s favourite stories to tell, much to clint’s displeasure. they had been moving into a new place, a bigger one to accommodate you and the coming baby. clint had been bringing in boxes after boxes and you stuck close to laura’s side, both of you watching him do the work. as clint carried a particularly heavy set of boxes, he tripped and suddenly you were on your feet, hands shooting out with a blue magic flowing from them. clint had braced himself for the hard impact of the the ground but when he opened his eyes, he saw the boxes floating up the walkway to the house and he was held up by your magic. you slowly righted him and the three of you just stood in stunned silence before clint broke it.
“you’re telling me you could’ve used your magic for all these boxes?!”
to their credit, the bartons took your newly found powers in stride. they helped you work on training it, allowing you to use them for mundane tasks to help you get used to them. in their care, you slowly flourished. that’s when they found about your mother.
you rarely spoke about your time in hydra, but once you started speaking about your mama, it’s like you never wanted to stop. before hydra, you remember a woman with hair as red as yours. she trained you, taught you everything she could before you were taken away. you spoke about her promise, and the bartons never knew what to say- not wanting to let you lose the little hope you had left.
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two years after natasha romanoff’s graduation ceremony, a baby was placed in her arms. she was told that it was hers, born from her egg, her own daughter. she was told to train you, and so she did. the red room had counted on her training keeping her impartial, but a mother’s instinct is something they could never smother. you were six when they had realised their mistake- and they ripped you away from her, given to hydra for their experiments. taking you away was their second mistake, because natasha ran. she spent the next three years staying hidden all while tracking you down. when she finally does, she shows up on clint’s doorstep with a proposition. in exchange for her and your safety, she will defect to shield and take down the red room.
you were the ace of the team for two main reasons, your power and your training. not only were you on the way to becoming just as skilled as natasha, your powers added an extra advantage. telekinesis and your ability to form shields stronger than the hulk as well as cap’s shield meant that you could do beyond what anyone else in the team could.
the team had argued back and forth before you were allowed to come on this mission. but you knew they needed you, especially with wanda and pietro maximoff in the picture.
“guys? is this a code green?” bruce’s voice snaps you out of your nerves, but it only grows when you hear nothing but static.
you take a deep breath, pushing yourself up from where you were sitting on the ground. “stay here, i’ll go in.”
before bruce can stop you, your hands glow a brilliant blue as you speed off to the ship. you let your eyes close momentarily as you try and remember everything natasha taught you. your eyes flutter open when you feel the hum of someone’s magic- it had to be wanda. zoning in on it, you speed up and you can only hope you are able to take her on.
you stay hidden as you walk through the ship. you hear thor’s words through your intercom and your steps speed up. a flash of red has you tensing- but the shield you had around you repels the cloud of red that surrounds you. you hear a gasp as you push your magic out, and you pull yourself and wanda into a room to your left.
wanda’s strong, you can see it in the way her power swirls a brilliant red. but her training was incomparable to yours, as thor had been the one in charge of your training. your magic pushes her against the wall, another barrier coming up to block the entrance of the room should the other maximoff decide to appear.
the red smoke disappears and you have to stop the gasp that falls from your lips. you knew from the moment maria pulled up their photos that the twins were the ones you had met all those years ago. but seeing her in person sucks the wind out of you. it seems that wanda recognises you too as she stops struggling against your magic.
you both pause as you regard each other, the sounds of the fight around you growing fainter. you break the silence first.
“hi wanda.”your voice is shaky and you have to resist the urge to drop your magic just to hug her. the twins had been the only reason you survived in hydra. their presence had been the biggest comfort through all the pain the scientists put you through day after day.
“im sorry.” it comes out as almost a whisper, and you see the way wanda’s eyes glisten “we should’ve fought harder for you. to take you along. we thought..”
the unsaid words hang in the air. you swallow thickly.
“why are you working for them? did they-” wanda’s eyes harden as her next words spill out “did they take you too? did they use you? experiment on you?”
you shake your head, “no. they saved me- the archer, he found me and took me in. my magic was from one of the experiments they did, it just didn’t become active til after.”
wanda regards you quietly, and you feel a bead of sweat trickle down the back of your neck. it’s now or never.
“come with us. the both of you, please. ultron he.. he wants to destroy the world, not save it. please, don’t fall for it. you can still walk away.” your voice is almost pleading.
“if ultron can’t tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it- where do you think he gets that? why would i work with him.” she hisses, and you remember the way you comforted her after her nightmares. the way she would mumble in her sleep, begging tony stark to spare her and her brother from death.
“because you are better than him. if tony stark can’t tell the difference- you can. you can make the choice.”
wanda sees your eyes glow and you pull pietro into the room, your magic swirling around him. you look at the both of them, and wanda is captivated at the way your power flows around you, surrounding you in a soft glow.
“i know you were dealt shitty cards. but you choose the life you want to lead at the end of the day.” you know that you’re making progress, however small, because not once has wanda tried to use her powers on you. “so please, make the better choice here. help us stop ultron.”
the twins look at each other, and you watch carefully. pietro turns to you then, speaking to you for the first time.
“you’ve grown up well.” your lips stretch into a soft smile. “but i don’t want to work with tony stark.”
“then don’t. think of it as working with me, with the others.” you think of the rest of your team, and you can only hope that they made it out safe. or that natasha hadn’t gone full mama bear mode when she realised you’re not on the quinjet. “tony stark is doing his best to right his wrongs and i know he has a long way to go. but right now this is beyond him.”
the twins share another glance and you can see pietro sigh. you got them.
the walk to the quinjet was silent, the twins in front of you and your magic on the standby. you see a figure run towards you and you place a hand on wanda’s shoulder when you see her hands raise almost instinctively. you step in front of the twins and natasha engulfs you in a fierce hug.
she pulls away and inspects you, her warm hand on your cheek as she looks for any injuries before scanning the rest of your body. when she decides you’re safe, she breaths a sigh of relief. her gaze shifts to behind you where the twins are still standing. you see the rest of the team come out and steve speaks first.
“he got away with the vibranium. we don’t know where he went,” he looks to the twins “i don’t suppose you two have any idea what he plans to do with the vibranium?”
when the twins shake their head, tony lets out a scoff and the twins immediately tense up.
“cut it out stark.” the words tumble from your lips before you can stop them and he looks at you incredulously.
“you do realise they could still be in cahoots with him right? dont you find it a little strange?” tony raises a brow at you and you roll your eyes. the rest of the team watches you quietly, natasha reaching out to rub your arm.
“they’re on our side now, and i’m not gonna let your ego drive them away. i trust them and if you don’t then suck it up.” you pause before adding, “if they go, i go. if you choose to not have them come with us when we do find ultron you won’t have me either.”
you see the way tony flinches and you knew you hit a nerve. you feel a little guilty, tony had been good to you over the years. but he also created a robot that wants to destroy the world and now that the twins are back, you don’t want to lose them again.
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