#why do so many of you seem to not understand the concept of loving more than one person at a time

[myimaginationplain]

jayvik shippers PLEASE be normal about Mel & Sky challenge, part 2, difficulty rating: (impossible)

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐄

w.c › 6k

Warnings › faceclaims. Part 1. Slow burn, some slight romance with Hyojin (but Mingi is still the main love interest).

Plot › you begin to learn just how obsessive Mingi is

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male.

ೄྀ�� ˊˎ-

Four Years Ago

“They’re going to add another member. To fill a gap, they feel that you guys another need main vocalist.”

When Dawon had told Mingi and the others that, it was like hell broke loose. They all couldn’t believe that the company really believed they weren’t good enough, after all that training.

Hyojin, however, didn’t see the problem with it. He could actually understand where the company was coming from—even if he did hate them for other reasons.

He didn’t think the others couldn’t sing but there was something he felt was missing. A more mature voice—sultry he’d say.

Which was why when everyone met you, he could understand why the company put you in the group. You were the package deal, minus rapping, but that was okay. And while he’d never tell Yohan, you were a much better leader than he could ever be.

So he was a bit upset for you when the other members were set on ignoring you.

The group was finally filming for their debut single. It was a school boy concept, young love and all that. Hyojin didn’t care too much about that. As long as the song was good and he wasn’t forced to make garbage music, he was fine.

“Okay, guys, we’re going to do pairs for this shot,” Gaeul said, getting the boys attentions. “The director said the pairs don’t matter. So, you guys can pick.”

Hyojin didn’t have to put two and two together that it would get awkward fast if they got to who would be forced to pair with you.

So, he eagerly stood up from his seat, “I’ll pair with (Name)-Ssi.” He said, fixing the tie to his uniform. He ignored the glances the others gave him as he looked over at you.

You were staring at him with a shocked face before a wide grin pulled on your lips, “Okay.”

Hyojin smiled slightly. He moved to follow you to the shooting area when he caught a glimpse of Mingi. His eyes widen as he saw Mingi staring at him as if he wanted to murder him. The boy was picking at his pants as he glared at him.

Who knew someone so young could make such a scary face?

Though he didn’t understand why Mingi seemed so angry? Did he.. want to pair with you?

That didn’t make any sense—he didn’t exactly talk to you.

Oh well, Hyojin had other things to worry about.

He was a bit awkward for the camera so he wasn’t having the best of time filming. The amount of times the director told him to not look like he’s having a war flashback was too many to count.

The set was a bedroom, stuff randomly around. This director had wanted it to feel a bit more real and only gave you and Hyojin the direction to act like students who were discussing how to confess to their crush.

Hyojin didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to do that but you seemed to understand.

Once the camera began to roll, you basically stole the scene with ease. Acting cute seemed like second nature to you. Hyojin just followed whatever you did, letting you lead him.

Just as the scene was about to end, you both sat on the bed as you opened a fake note. Hyojin leaned in to see that there was a little stick figure drawing, causing him to crack a slight smile.

He glanced over and felt himself freeze, your face close to his. You were staring at him with eyes he couldn’t really describe. A soft gaze as a slight smile pulled on your lips.

Did they put lipstick on your—

“Cut!”

“Great job, guys!” Gaeul said, walking over to you two. You easily pulled away as Hyojin tried to think about what just happened.

“Thanks for pairing with me, Hyojin-Ssi.” You said, smiling at him. The rest of the sentence didn’t need to be said.

“I wanted to pair with you… uhm, you don’t need to speak so politely with me.” He said, deciding to bridge the gap.

Your eyes widen before you eagerly nodded, “okay. Call me Hyung then, Jinnie.”

Jinnie?

Oh man, you were too cute.

Gaeul coughed, clapping her hands together, “great, you two are cute! But c’mon, you guys need to film a quick video for the vlog the Dawon is making.”

You and Hyojin joined the other members back in the dressing room. Dawon was holding a camera as he motioned for the group to stand up and start the intro. You stood in the middle as Hyojin stood on your left while a disgruntled Yohan on your right.

It seemed like Yohan wouldn’t like you at all… or anyone besides Hyojin for that matter.

Every member immediately got their camera ready persona on as you smiled, ready to start the introduction when someone stopped you.

“Ah, Hong (Name)-Ssi, you shouldn’t smile, it’ll go against the boyfriend image we have for you,” one of the producers said, causing you to freeze.

Another one hummed in agreement, “and maybe angle your head a bit to left, your face looks better on camera that way.”

Gaeul let out a grunt, “uh, thanks… but I’m his manager.. I can handle the group.”

“Well, handle him better.”

You ignored the questioning stares the members gave you as you dropped your smile. Hyojin wanted to say something back but he was a rookie—he had no power over the people funding their debut.

He could only watch as the light in your eyes practically went out from their berating. From that moment, he could easily tell there was a different set of standards you had to meet compared to the others.

From then on, he was going to help you, in anyway he can.

That’s why he’s your favorite… right?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You wanted to die.

At age twenty five you came like a teenage boy right in front of your maknae.

How embarrassing.

You grabbed your pillow and let out a loud scream, wanting to just close your eyes and never wake up. Mingi was taking a shower and you were scared he’d come into your room later.

There was no way in hell you wanted to see him again tonight.

Maybe tomorrow.

Or a few weeks.

You glanced over at your phone and stared at it for a few minutes. Maybe some posts from those freaky Miras would make you appreciate life again. Or something like that. Whatever bullshit idea you could come up with to justify you still going to the NSFW side of your fandom.

Now that you knew about the rise of gay/bisexual men into you, you wondered if you could find any.

Your biggest fan account, itsokokok had recently posted so decided to see if maybe they were congregating in the replies.

The new three posts of today was from three hours ago. It was from three different album promotions.

The first was from debut: it was a short clip of you in the music video. Your duo scene with Hyojin. You didn’t remember just how cute you acted in it, really playing up the teen boy being in love.

You checked the comments, many filled with people that weren’t Miras. Most of it was just guys saying you were really cute but in a natural way.

Second was of your performance from… pre debut? Huh, how did they find this? You looked to be maybe fifteen—a performance from your high school’s talent show. The video was of you dressed in a suit and tie performing A.D.T.O.Y by 2pm.

Quite the song for fetus you to be performing but hey, none of the adults stopped you.

It seemed the comments did have morals and mostly just complimented your ability to sing and dance at the same time. Though a few wanted you to preform the dance now… probably to thirst over you.

Lastly, the third video was one year old, a short clip of the music video for your second to last comeback. You didn’t know how they could thirst over this but you clicked on the video.

You were wet in the video, standing in front of a swimming pool. Dressed in a white button up and black slacks. The white shirt was stuck to your skin as you delivered your line, tugging at the loose tie around your neck.

At the time, you didn’t find the whole aspect of being wet on camera a bad thing. The song was about drowning in your feelings so being wet made sense.

Though you now regretted it.

@bluemuuun

↳ need him bad… don’t even know his name

@hanniesmira

↳ you don’t know Miracle?! Hong (Name) from Miracle? Dude you’re missing out, they have great songs

@bluemuuun

↳ I’m not even into kpop, I just want to fuck him ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@slipslickk

↳ he looks good wet—I need one of his members to fuck him on stage already pls

@dohasflatass

↳ wonder if Min collapsed after seeing (Name) during shooting ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@hanniesmira

↳ knowing min, he probably threatened anyone who stared for too long ㅎㅎㅎ

@hyunkikii

↳ Mrcle definitely take turns on his ass, got a phatty for real

@hyoojinie

↳ his gaze into the camera is so slutty

Just as you were about to log out, you came across an older post itsokokok posted. It was of your early debut. One of the stage performances. It followed you dancing with a stoic face right when it was your center turn until it was Yohan’s turn.

As soon as the main camera was off you, a wide smile pulled on your lips as you danced along. Whenever it was your turn to sing, you immediately dropped the smile.

You were mostly following the orders the company gave you. Being the stoic boyfriend.

Nowadays you stopped caring but back then you were so scared of being taken out of the group that you followed whatever the company told you.

The comments were filled with comments of Miras, a few stating they missed this side of you. If only they knew that it wasn’t the real you. You scrolled through the comments before seeing one by itsokokok himself.

He was responding to someone saying they loved you when acted stoic, and hating this new ‘fake’ you.

→ then you don’t know the true him

You sat up, staring at the comment for a moment. Itsokokok didn’t seem to really comment. He had little to none captions and just posted once everyday at random times, possibly whenever he was free. It wasn’t even anything too crazy but the comment oddly felt like he knew you?

Well, probably not. He might’ve just noticed that you were putting on an act due to your pre-debut activities. It was a drastic difference if you paid any attention.

Speaking of, how did he find any of your pre-debut stuff? You tried to think if you maybe posted them yourself or maybe your classmates or something.

Maybe your mom? She loved posting videos of your performances on her Instagram. She even gained a lot of followers because of it. Her account was basically a fan account at this point.

He might’ve just found the pre-debut performances she posted, it’s not like she’s hiding it.

You shrugged. It wasn’t too creepy. He seemed to actually appreciate you.

And that’s all you can really ask for in a fan.

“Hyung.”

You blushed and quickly turned off your phone. Mingi stepped into your room, rubbing at his face as he got on your bed. You simply watched him get comfortable before glancing over at you.

“You’re so stiff.” He said, a slight smirk on his lips. “Are you scared I’ll eat you in your sleep?”

“Mingi!” You bristled, quickly turning off your lamp as you got underneath your covered. You kept your back to him as you tried to drown out his laugh.

It was silent after a minute. You glanced back to see him fast asleep. That was fast.

Staring at him, you wondered how much he’s changed. He wasn’t seventeen anymore.

Maybe he really did love you…

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Solo activity?”

Your group mates were looking at you in shock. It had been almost a month since Gaeul had told you about your change in marketing and now the company finally has something for you. Your solo stage.

They were all in your apartment, getting comfy on the couch when you suddenly came out ready to leave. Everyone had been practicing daily for the comeback that they had planned for a relaxed day today.

“Yeah.” You said, feeling a bit nervous. “Did.. Dawon Hyung forget to tell you guys?”

“Oh, yeah, he did.” Yohan muttered.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” Doha said, glancing back at the tv. You wanted to ask what he meant by that but then Yohan delivered a swift kick to Doha’s shin.

“Have you been practicing before us then?” Kihyun suddenly asked. “You’re already prepared to perform it?”

“Mhm… I’ve been practicing daily after our recording sessions.” You bit your lip. “It’s an easy song to learn.”

“Ah okay,” Yohan said, speaking for the others who were just staring at you. “Do you want one of us to come with?”

“Come—? Uh, uhm.” Your eyes gazed at them in disbelief. They wanted to come? Why did it feel like they were attached to your hip these days?

Mingi rolled his eyes, coming out from the kitchen. “(Name) Hyung doesn’t need someone with him. He’s not a baby.”

“You’re just jealous he might not choose you,” Doha shot back, smirking at the deadly glare Mingi sent his way.

“Ah, I guess I could bring one of you guys,” you said, causing them to perk up immediately. Their eyes stared right into your soul. You felt your hands sweat as you tried to think about who to choose.

No way would you choose Mingi… he was making you uncomfortable these days. The way he gazes at you like you’re his entire world is insane!

Yohan would be too annoying.

Kihyun would be a bit awkward.

Doha was being annoying to Mingi and you didn’t want reward his behavior.

Your gaze narrowed in on Hyojin. His eyes met yours as a slight grin pulled on his lips. That’s all he needed as he stood up with a triumphant smile. The others immediately groaned and shook their heads in annoyance.

Hyojin moved to follow you out the door when Mingi suddenly grabbed his arm. You almost yelled at Mingi for his aggressive behavior but Hyojin didn’t look shocked at all.

Mingi whispered something while Hyojin rolled his eyes.

“Childish.” He said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch what’s yours. You should worry about Yohan Hyung instead.”

“What? Yah, what are you talking about?!” Yohan yelled, glancing over at Mingi.

You stood there mouth agape. Mingi didn’t… no way he wouldn’t.. Hyojin grabbed your hand before you could properly spiral and lead you out of the apartment.

Just what the hell was Mingi’s problem?

Hyojin didn’t see you romantically, what is he worrying about?

Once you reached the music show, you were quickly dressed in an outfit to match the song you were performing. It was business casual, apparently.

Hyojin sat on the couch as the stylist helped you get dressed. He was silent for the most part, tapping away on his phone. It was another reason why you chose him. He wasn’t an annoying little shit like the rest of them.

“Jinnie,” you called, fixing the fake glasses on your face. “How does Hyung look?”

It took a minute before he finally glanced up. His eyes widen as he took you in. You were dressed in a white button up, sleeves rolled up with a loose black tie. Black slacks with sleek black dress shoes.

“It reminds me of something I wore before,” you laughed, tugging at the tie as you looked over at him.

Hyojin coughed, the tip of his ears getting red as he mutely nodded. “Mhm… you make it so hard, Hyung.”

“Hm?” You tilted your head, walking over to him as you plopped down beside him on the couch.

“I think Mingi will be upset if I told you… but everyone in the group has.. liked you.”

“Liked me? Like…”

“Romantically.” Hyojin said, smiling slightly. “But Mingi had stronger feelings for you.”

“So what… did he.. did he tell you guys to back off or something?” You asked, still reeling from the fact your members liked you. The thought seemed ludicrous!

“Yeah.” Hyojin said bluntly. “Something like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what did he do?”

“Secret.”

“Hyojin.”

“Mhmmm, I can’t remember.”

You glared at him as he went back to his phone. “I don’t understand. You guys really liked me..? How? Why?”

Hyojin shrugged. “I don’t know about the rest of them.. but I just liked you for you. But it wasn’t the strongest feelings.”

The strongest… You briefly wondered about Kihyun. Maybe he had stronger feelings for Kihyun?

But before you could ask, a staff member called for you. Hyojin gave you a thumbs up as you got up and left.

While you were nervous, you weren’t exactly nervous to preform on stage alone. You’ve always performed alone before debuting in Miracle.

The month you spent practicing for the song was a breeze. It was a song that took inspiration from a past song you composed. The choreographer didn’t go all out with the dance.

Though what you were really nervous about was if people would actually care.

What if the so called growing interest in you deflated immediately?

You shook your head, walking onto stage. A group of six dancers followed you. The crowed actually cheered a bit when you came on. There was a few Miracle lightsticks. But immediately, a group of male voices rung out in the building.

Everyone seemed shocked at how loud they were, even the dancers as they got into position. You couldn’t help but grin and eagerly wave at them.

“귀여! ♡♡♡♡!”

“Thank you!” You said into your mic, laughing at the immediate screams from the crowd. You walked to your position, letting the dancers grab your waist as they pulled you to sit on two of their arms—a makeshift throne.

The lights dimmed as you got ready to perform. You tried to remember all the times you performed alone and channeled the energy of younger you.

While you would dance, you would focus mostly on having great vocals. This song was a taste into the title track, you needed to show a great intro.

The performance started with a slight hiccup when the back track started before you but you continued as if nothing happened. It allowed for your vocals to truly show anyway.

The major part of the song that seemed to get most of the crowd excited was when one of the dancers grabbed your tie and tugged you towards him. You couldn’t help the slight blush during that part, feeling oddly excited over it as well.

Was this a kink?

You ended the oddly homoerotic song with the dancers kneeling in front of you, your hand digging into one of the men’s hair.

Cheers erupted as soon as you were finished. You felt excited, hearing mostly male voices scream your name. The dancers immediately stood up and grabbed you, lifting you up in the air as you shrieked in shock. Your arms immediately wrapped around one of their shoulders at the sudden movement.

If only you knew just how angry this little action would make a certain someone.

The drive home felt long for some reason. Hyojin was on his phone so you decided to check how Miras were doing.

Not too surprising, not that many Miras talked about the performance. However non fans were praising it. Itsokokok had posted.

It was three posts, seems like he had a pattern. The first was of your recent performance. A short video of the moment when the dancer pulled your tie. Your face didn’t hide any of the hidden pleasure you got from that short moment.

During practice, the pull was never harsh so it really did shock you when he tugged it harder this time around.

Of course, the comments were filled with people thirsting. Mostly non fans—gay men in particular. The same Miras that actually liked you were thirsting over you while also gushing at how you finally had a solo activity.

Shocker, the NSFW side that talked about your members fucking you actually appreciated you.

The next post was of a pre-debut one. This time, it was a nineteen year old you preforming an original song. It was the song the company used to create the solo song you just preformed.

Most of the comments didn’t seem to notice this at all. You were mainly shocked the account owner even found this clip.

Lastly, it was a clip from the group’s occasional vlog. From the setting, it was of the time the group was planning Mingi’s nineteenth birthday. You were kneeling down as you picked something up.

The camera was just on you as you arched your back by pure instinct. You don’t even remember doing that. A laugh was heard from the camera man, you quickly noticed it was Yohan filming before video you looked back and glared at Yohan.

“Go do something useful!” You had yelled, “Minnie’s party has to be good. I won’t let you ruin it.”

@bluemuuun

↳ does his back naturally arch like that??

@hanniesmira

↳ his relationship with min is so cute.. i bet today’s performance killed min ㅋㅋㅋ

Before you could read the rest, the van reached the apartment complex. You and Hyojin left as you got inside. Hyojin waved you good night before going into his shared apartment with Kihyun.

You wondered back to his claim of the members all liking you.

That just didn’t make any sense.

As you moved to unlock the door to your apartment, it swung open, showing a pissed Mingi.

Fuck.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“How was the performance?”

Hyojin glanced over at Kihyun. He had just walked in and was set on just speed walking straight to his bedroom. Kihyun was sitting in the couch and didn’t look away from the tv.

“It was good, Hyung is a good performer.” Hyojin muttered, slipping off his shoes. He slipped off his coat and slowly walked over to the living room.

“Yeah, he is.”

“Well… I’ll go to bed—”

“Hyojin.”

Hyojin sighed, looking back at Kihyun. Kihyun was finally looking over at him. His piercing gaze made his back tense. The slight hums of the tv filled the odd tension as Hyojin fought the urge to just walk away. It was too late to be dealing with this.

“Are you… still upset about what I said this morning?” Kihyun finally said, his gaze softening.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kihyun stood up from the couch as he walked over to Hyojin. “I didn’t think it would upset you… I thought you were over him.”

Hyojin felt his jaw tighten, “you might’ve gotten over Hyung easily but I actually liked him. I liked him a lot—I only backed off because Mingi was right, (Name) Hyung would never see me romantically.”

“So… what’s the problem? Aren’t we—?”

“—dating?” Hyojin pinched his nose before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, are we? You only want to have sex, nothing else. Even if we are ‘dating’—I won’t allow you to speak about my past feelings as if they were trivial.

“(Name) Hyung is an important part of my life, especially because he’s still here. It’d be different if he wasn’t around anymore. So I’m sorry, Hyung, my feelings for (Name) Hyung wasn’t some three second attraction like yours… If two years ago, (Name) Hyung had returned my feelings in anyway… I’d never have gotten with you.”

Kihyun sighed, “I didn’t mean it that way, Hyojin… I didn’t realize you had liked him that much. I—”

“Hyung.” Hyojin interrupted him. “Come back to me once you figure out if you want to be boyfriends or just fuck buddies. I’m not breaking myself over another guy.”

With that, he walked into his room, slamming the door shut.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Mingi immediately tugged you inside and glared at you. “What type of solo stage was that?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, moving to walk to your room. Mingi was already following you as you tried to keep yourself calm.

You were older! You’re the group leader… he needs to.. he can’t treat you like this.

Especially over a simple performance.

“Hyung.” Mingi’s voice was tight. “We’ve never performed a song like that before—the company never allowed it.”

“Well they’re just trying something new with me. They’ve finally noticed a group of people they can advertise me to. I can..” you placed your bag on your bed and sighed, “I can gain some fans that actually care about me.”

“Fans? Is that all you care about? What about the music?”

“Mingi, obviously I care about the music!” You said, staring at him as he stood in your doorway. “But it’s normal to want positive feedback from sharing your art! You get it all the time, I’ve seen how Miras react to you.”

“So what, you’ll feed into the silly relationship the company uses to get people’s money?!”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Mingi, it’s not that serious. I’ve always wanted to do a sexy concept anyway—no one forced me.”

As you glanced back at him, any anger you had tempered down. You couldn’t be mad at him—not for long anyway. “I get it… you’re just worried but I consented to everything.” You muttered, hoping that would calm him down.

“So you consented to be whored out for some fans that only like you because they want to fuck you?”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

A laugh left your lips as you stared straight at Mingi.

“Choi Mingi.” You whispered, your gaze hardening as your fists clenched. The words you wanted to say was in the tip of your tongue and if you weren’t so angry—you would’ve held back.

But you didn’t.

“Remember your place.” You said, walking over to him. “I am your Hyung, not your boyfriend. I’m not yours and you can’t act so possessive over me, do you understand? I don’t know what you told the others but it’s not your right to tell them to back off.”

“You—?”

“Yes I know! I’m not your boyfriend and I won’t ever be your boyfriend!” You yelled, pushing Mingi out of your room, causing him to bang his head right against the wall. He stared at you in shock as you froze. Any anger you had was gone as you wanted to rush and check if he was okay.

But you couldn’t.

You shouldn’t.

You cleared your throat as you glanced down at the ground. Your throat felt tight. “Choi Mingi, I don’t think you really love me… because if you did, you wouldn’t have insulted me to my face.”

A pained whimper left your throat as you quickly looked away from Mingi. “I’ll go… spend tonight with Hyojin. Don’t.. don’t bother me.. please.” You whispered, moving to leave as quickly as you could.

A hand gripped your arm before you could even step an inch away. Your body tensed as you waited to see what Mingi would say. He didn’t feel like that boy you knew… how much had he changed?

You reluctantly glanced back to see what he was going to say only to see him kneel down. Your eyes widen as he pressed his head against the floor, hands resting on the ground.

“죄송합니다. 죄송합니다, 형.”

“Mingi…” You whispered. You slowly knelt down and gripped at Mingi’s shoulders, pushing to make him sit up but he fought against you. He kept repeating himself, his words slowly being muffled by the sound of his gasps.

“Mingi. Choi Mingi.” With his refusal to look up, you decided to try a different method. “I’ll leave.. I’ll go to Hyojin if you don’t look at me.”

You got whiplash at how quick he looked up. Your gaze softening at the sight of his face. His eyes were red as tears streamed down his face, his face blotchy and red already. He kept gasping for air as if crying so hard was taking his breath away.

Despite yourself, you remembered the only other time he cried so hard in front of you.

“Childish. You really are childish.” You whispered, wiping away at his face. His body physically loosened at your touch as he leaned into it. Though you could tell he wasn’t coming any closer, even if his hands twitched to touch you.

It didn’t look like he was in the capacity to speak so you decided to do it for him.

“I’m upset, Mingi. I’m so upset you would hurt me like this. Were you jealous? Why would you say that about me?”

Mingi shook his head.

“Then why did you say that? What could you have possibly meant?”

“Scared..” he managed to mutter, taking a second to take a deep breath. “You’re… older… I’m… younger… the.. dancer… older… what if… what if you want an older man…? What if… you’ll leave me… because he’s better..”

You blinked, staring at him confusion. “Mingi, that’s so silly.” You whispered, cooing when he tried to glare at you—it didn’t pack a punch with his face wet with tears. “You were insecure and that’s okay… but that was not the way to go about it. Are you scared that… I’ll leave you if I get more fans?”

He hummed. “You… might… leave the group.”

“Why would I? You have solo activities but you don’t want to leave the group. I can have solo activities too. I like our group. You’re really acting your age, Mingi.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say as he immediately began to try and pull away. You pulled him back in quickly as you brought his face to yours.

“Next time, if you’re feeling a certain way, you can.. voice it? Instead of talking down on me, okay?” You said, giving him a slight smile. “But I’m happy you immediately apologized. I didn’t think you would do that.”

Mingi sniffled, finally sitting up straight. “It’s because I—”

You clamped his mouth shut, a blush on your face. Mingi only rolled his eyes. Even when he was sad he had the strength to roll his eyes. Wow.

Despite yourself, the previous anger wasn’t as strong anymore. You didn’t think you would be so easy to forgive but you were. Was it because he apologized? He seemed so sincere that you knew it wasn’t a joke—Mingi can’t cry on command, he’s tried many times.

Surprisingly only Kihyun could.

He… he really loved you?

“Minnie,” you said, unable to hide the smile at his eager gaze from hearing his nickname. “Is it true… that you told the other members to back off?”

Mingi frowned before he silently nodded.

“Why….?”

He pulled your hand away from his mouth as he looked away. “They didn’t love you like I do. It was just simple infatuation…”

“How could you be so sure?”

Mingi raised an eyebrow, “Hyung, I’ve trained with them since I was fourteen… I’ve known them longer than you do. Besides, it’s not like they fought me on it… well not all of them.”

“All of them…? Did…?”

“One person disagreed.”

“Who?”

“Secret.”

“Mingi.”

“Ah, I can’t really remember.”

“You and Hyojin are the same, little shits.” You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “But still, that was wrong of you. You shouldn’t mess with anyone else’s feelings.”

Mingi looked as if he wanted to talk back but simply nodded. “Okay… it was two years ago anyway.”

“Two years ago?”

“Mhm. On my nineteenth birthday.”

“Ah.”

You wanted to ask more but it looked like Mingi was done talking. He rubbed at his eyes as he began wiping at his tear stained face. While you weren’t angry anymore, you still weren’t exactly so forgiving without any work on Mingi’s part.

“Minnie,” you said, watching as he perked up. “I’m still mad… so you can’t touch me at all for a month.”

His eyes widen as he stared at you as if you just told him his parents died in a plane crash. His lips wobbled as a pained grunt left him, he was obviously trying to plead a case but the rational part of him knew not to push it.

He looked as if he’d cry again.

You only smiled. “Punishment for calling your Hyung a whore. I think I’m being quite nice, don’t you think?”

Mingi squared his jaw. “Yes, Hyung…”

“Good boy.” You whispered, smirking at his pained expression. “You can’t sleep with me tonight, unless you want to sleep on the floor. Night, Minnie.”

Mingi was going to have a tough month.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

→ have you guys seen this performance??

→ 씨발! If I had a dick it’d be hard ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

→ who is this???

→ he sounds so good??

→ wish I could pay attention to the lyrics but his ass is distracting me

→ 대박! He sounds so stable

→ I found his group performances!!! Why is he so underrated??

→ does he have any other solo work?

→ my dick hard

→ the group sings so well, I’ll tune in for their comeback!!

→ his photo cards are cheap!! I’ll buy a dozen ㅋㅋㅋ

→ I think I came

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Three years ago

Mingi was confused. He saw so many fan accounts for other members. Way too many for himself—he didn’t get what was so special about him. But little to none accounts solely for you. The group had debuted a year ago, surely someone likes you enough to create an account?

He sighed, scrolling through the lists of popular Miras accounts. Why weren’t they praising you? You were the best, a great singer, dancer, and leader.

Was it because you didn’t fit the Korean beauty standards?

How stupid.

Mingi didn’t care about what fans thought of him so long as they liked the music—but it seemed to bother you that no one was giving you any attention.

So, he decided to rectify that.

It took him a minute but he soon figured out how to create an account.

He chose his profile picture—a picture from the group’s season greetings, one where you had frosting on your nose as you smiled at the camera.

He’d never use social media before so his generic names for the account were all taken. He didn’t know what else to name the stupid account as, it was just so he could post pictures and videos of you.

After a short break before he mentally crashed out, he decided on a different name.

Itsokokok

It was a lyric from the group’s debut title track. Your first line of the song. Not many people would probably know but that was fine with him. The account was honestly mainly for him.

He didn’t know what his first post should be so he decided on a picture he took of you. Luckily he had posted it on the group’s Instagram so no one would think anything of it. It was a candid photo, you were looking up from your phone because he had called your name. You looked so cute despite how tired you were.

His first ever picture of you was his first ever post.

Shit, he was down bad.

no smut this time, sorry yall, but chapter three will give yall what’s deserved, next week Friday. Trying something different with this OC. Anyway, next chapter, he’s about to get freaky. Also can you guess who was the member that refused Mingi’s request? ;)

죄송합니다 — is the most formal way to say sorry in Korean

Tag list: @euthymiko @love-kha1 @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @tehyunnie @tomoeroi @smellwell @remdayz @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience @cherry-blossoms-187 @ofclyde @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @secretivemessenger @mello-life25 @yuzuukix @bensontrechic @onementally-unstabel-kid @me-when-life @bangbangdevotee @chaevvonders @bangchansdirty-slut @honey-valentin3 @hoshimochicchi @lucaisnothere @jaxyy219



[leascorner]

j.b.b. | Secret Santa

Summary: Natasha rigs the Secret Santa because she knows Bucky has a crush on one of his colleagues

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x colleague!f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of food, mention of christmas and gifts, two idiots in love

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is the 2nd Xmas OS of the series. My favourite so far. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Secret Santa.

Bucky hated it. He didn’t understand that concept. Buying a gift for someone – needless to say, a coworker that he didn’t know personally – only by obligation. He wondered who had thought of this first and how it had become a so-called tradition. He would have rather like to go to the restaurant, share a drink with the team and be done with it. No, now, he had to choose a piece of paper to select for whom he was going to think about what to give them. Like it wasn’t already pure torture to think about what to buy for his own friends and family.

He had tried his best to leave the room every time Natasha had showed up with her glass filled of all those tiny bits of paper. It was all before she took the matter in her own hands and decided to confront him up right outside his condo at the compound. It was up to three pieces of paper that Natasha had reordered in a particular order after she had showed up at his doorstep.

Bucky could see the ambush from a mile away. She wanted him to pick a particular piece of paper, the one right in front of him. His mind raced through a million of possibilities yet, he couldn’t see why she would act suspiciously. This was just a stupid Secret Santa, one of the too many that would be organized around the world that year. There was no reason for her to trap him. No reason at all…

Still, he couldn’t get himself to pick up the paper directly in front of him. He was smarter than this, he thought; he wouldn’t fall into whatever trap she had lay for him. He rather selected the one piece right at the back; just because it felt like the most rational thing to do. As his hand went to get the paper, he couldn’t help but notice the sly smile that appeared on Natasha’s face. He tried to change his take for the middle piece – the one he had thought she wanted him to select in the first place – but she playfully slapped his hand away.

“You touched it, it’s yours.”

The redhead winked at him as she handed her the tiny bit of paper. A lightning of dread struck Bucky as he understood he had indeed felt into a trap. Unfolding the white paper with his thumbs, his heart missed a beat when he read the name written on it. No doubt now why Natasha had done this on purpose.

It was all because of… Y/N.

Y/N was a Stark employee. She worked on Branner’s team in another wing of the compound and their paths would have never crossed if it wasn’t for Nathasha. Bucky was not sure how it started however, for a while now, the redhead had been teaching a self-defence course every Tuesday night for the Stark Industries employees. Bucky, Steve and Clint had come to help a couple of times and one of those nights was when he was paired with Y/N for an exercise. He spent the night teaching her how to get rid of an attacker if they got their neck from behind.

Afterwards, he seemed to meet her again everywhere: in front of the compound, at Tony’s gala or even at some other Natasha’s courses. They immediately took off. Y/N was doing most of the talking and he liked to hear her voice. They talked mostly about books. She lent him some of the most recent New York Times best sellers and he found for her his favourite’s volumes of poetry – some of the ones that he wouldn’t admit to Steve he had read, back in the days.

Before they met, Bucky had never seen her in the Avengers’ wing, yet Y/N seemed to go more and more to that side of the compound. She went to have a quick break, exchange a book with Bucky or put a cake she had cooked in the kitchen. And this, of course, had not escaped to Natasha’s sharp eyes. Ever since, she had made it her aim of the year to get them together – or at least to get Bucky to confess to Y/N what she thought was his undying love for her.

Bucky could not lie; he indeed found her attractive, both inside and out. Yet, he knew he was just a friend for her. And even if she had the same feeling as him, he was not sure if he wanted to be in a relationship right now… He had a long list of reasons as to why not. He was just accustoming to this life back in the United States. He was gone for long periods of times, working with the Shield on breaking down Hydra. And most importantly, he was risking his life for a living.

He sighed and crumpled the paper in between his fingers, conceding that Natasha had won and that now, he just had to find a gift for Y/N.

A week before the Stark Industries Christmas party – the event at which they would exchange gifts, Bucky was still thinking about what he would buy for Y/N. He had already spent all his free time looking for the perfect gift, but nothing seemed good enough for her. The first thing he had thought about was books. He knew she would always like one however, he didn’t want to buy her some random books. No… he was looking for something a bit more personal. Something that would put stars in her eyes and that would show her how much he appreciated her. Even only as a friend.

Only one week to go before the party and he started to feel a bit panicked. He had even considered asking Natasha for help – this was how stressed he was. However, he quickly made up his mind as he knew she would have liked that a little too much and she would have never let him live it down.

So, when he woke up that morning, he had decided that today was the day. He would finish that report for Steve, and he would search all the Internet for a gift. He would not leave his desk until he had found something.

Three hours later, a headache was slowly crawling right behind the bone of his forehead, and he couldn’t think straight anymore. When he looked up from his laptop screen, he realized he had skipped lunch and that his stomach was rumbling. He would take a break and when he would get back, he would definitely decide on what to buy.

Arriving at the Avengers compound’s kitchen to pick up something to eat, Bucky stopped on the doorstep. Y/N was facing back, making herself what Bucky guessed was a tea. Ever since he randomly took the paper with her name, he had tried to avoid her. Not that it was hard, she was locked in one of Banner’s lab most of the time these days and he was also busy working with Steve on the mission they planned early in the next year. It was not that he did not want to see her. He just felt like anyone could see on his face that he was literally petrified by the idea of offering her something that she wouldn’t like. And he also was pretty sure he couldn’t keep a personal secret even to save his life.

Now that she was slowly turning to the other side, he had no other way than to speak to her. He also knew it would be suspicious if he continued avoiding her for too long.

“Hey Y/N,” he said before going straight to the fridge. Too busy examining its content, he didn’t realise she didn’t respond and only look back to her when she let out a cry, startled to see him there. She had her earphones on that she was now taking off after the original surprise of seeing him.

“Sorry, I hadn’t realised,” he stuttered while pointing to his own ears. He mentally faced palm himself for acting like an idiot. He hadn’t realized that she was wearing workout clothes and probably was just back from a run around the block, just like she did sometimes.

“No worries,” she smiled, “I know I’m not supposed to be here, I’m just picking up a tea and I’ll be gone.”

He waved it off; none of them minded that she used the kitchen – it was made to be used after all. “Good run?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Wouldn’t run a marathon, but it clears your head, you know?” Bucky didn’t know, but he could imagine the feeling, his own demons always pretty much present in his own head. They stayed silent for a bit, each of them trying to find a subject for discussion.

Eventually, the fridge beeped loudly, complaining its door had been opened for too long. Bucky leaned forwards to grab some random ingredients to make himself a sandwich while Y/N grabbed her cup of tea and the Tupperware in front of her before making her way out.

“Hey Bucky,” Y/N said just as she was about to leave the kitchen. “I know that we are not supposed to tell who we got for the secret Santa and everything… but would you like to go to the city this weekend? I’ve got some ideas, and I could really help a man’s opinion.” Bucky’s lack of respond made her continue: “I mean, if you’d like. And I could always help you pick up a gift for your Secret Santa as well.” Her cheeks heated up as she realized what she had implied so she was fast to mumble: “If you haven’t already, of course.”

Through he knew this wasn’t a good idea – how could he buy her a gift while she was here – Bucky did the only thing he could do right now – he nodded.

It went without saying that Bucky did not find a gift for Y/N that afternoon. Instead, he spent it imagining the worst scenario about their trip to the city. He couldn’t believe he had accepted and while he thought of excuses not to go, he agreed that it would be a little too suspicious. Once again, he could only resign himself to going on with the flow. After all, it could be a good thing, who else better than Y/N could tell him what she would like…

This was how he ended up picking up Y/N on an early Saturday morning and driving to the city. She had suggested going to a mall and while the idea to visit one on the last weekend before Christmas was not very appealing, he still didn’t have any idea of what he would buy for her. So, he could only agree.

Y/N took advantage of the drive to go through a playlist of the 2000’s songs and educate Bucky on all the most iconic songs. Obviously, Bucky didn’t know any of them, but they had a good laugh when he pointed out a couple of ambiguous lyrics and Y/N realized what they actually meant for the first time.

“Alright so for whom are you looking for?” Bucky asked after they entered the mall. Y/N looked back to him with a startled expression, as if she didn’t expect to have to tell him it seems. “I can keep a secret,” he assured her in return, and she shook her head with a smile.

“Let’s say… My secret Santa is a man,” Bucky nodded, he did know that much, “In his late twenties. Not fond of technologies. Amateur of arts. Doesn’t like attention. Dresses casual, more practical than fashion.”

He laughed, imaging she was talking about Steve and his infamous combination of Jean-T-shirt-Jacket. “Any gift ideas you were thinking of?”

“I was thinking about an accessory. Not something cheap though. An accessory that would go with everything, be of good quality and last a lifetime. Something…” she thought, “Timeless. You know… like a belt or else,” she shrugged.

Bucky nodded, a serious look on his face. He had heard a small weakness in her voice as she was explaining what she was looking for. She was anxious about picking this gift. She wanted to select the right thing. She wanted this present to be impactful. And he was going to help her figuring it out.

“I think the best option is to have a look at what we have here and then we can take it from there. What do you think?”

Y/N nodded, and they happily made their way through the mall. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people at this early time in the morning. They did a couple of menswear shops, asking the sales assistant for advice and inspecting whatever they were suggesting. None of them found something promising.

After the sixth shop, Y/N seemed on the verge of giving up, while Bucky had made it his mission to help her find something. The truth was, if she found something, he was hoping she would forget they were also here for him to find a gift. So, Bucky bribed her by promising her a sandwich before he entered the seventh store.

This one was a vintage store, not a thrift store but a store proposing clothes and accessories inspired by second half of the twentieth century. Y/N went on to ask they showed them the belts they had. The saleswoman happily obliged and got back to them with a dozen of accessories. They ruled out the cowboys’ ones and were left with only four. All black or navy blue. All tanned leather. They would all go with a casual jean or a more formal outfit. Their differences resided only in the details. A most subtle buckle. A few inches larger. A different seam. A different texture.

Y/N stared at them frowning, a small wrinkle in between her brow. Even now, she wasn’t sure which one to pick out. If she was listening to herself, she would probably buy them all. One never had too many belts, did they? Bucky detailed the expression on her face and could help to think she looked cute.

“If this is for the person I think it is,” he didn’t want to say Steve, even if he had no doubt it was him. After all this was supposed to be a secret, “I would go for this one.”

“What about this one?” Y/N pointed out the navy one.

“I personally like it better, but I don’t think he would.”

“You’re sure?” Y/N asked, still chewing on her lower lip.

“One hundred percent,” Bucky acquiesced.

Y/N took all four belts and went to the cashier to pay. Bucky listened from one ear as Y/N and the saleswoman chitchat for a bit. He had a look about what other clothes they had in display and made a mental note to go back sometimes for a bit of shopping for himself.

A couple of minutes later, Y/N was back at her side with a bag containing her gift in a nice white wrapping.

“Thank you so much for your help!”

Y/N gave Bucky a hug with one arm – the one that wasn’t holding the bag – and she seemed to put all her gratitude. When she pulled back, the line between her eyebrows had disappeared and she looked relived, totally pleased with herself.

“Lunch?” Bucky asked.

Just like he had promised, they got a sandwich, a lemonade and sat for a bit. They talked for a while; and for once, about something other than books. They discussed work and somewhat bet on whom was going to offer a gift to whom. When they lifted their head from their sandwich – or their lack of – to be precise, the mall was now teeming with people doing their last-minute shopping. Y/N grimaced and stated her dislike of the crowd, to which Bucky could only agree. How would she be happy to get home after they were done. Bucky then understood under the lines that she had indeed not forget about helping him find a gift for his own Secret Santa.

“So, now,” she talked as she brushed her hands on her pants after having thrown away their sandwiches packaging.  “What about you? What are we looking for?”

“I have no idea,” instead of lying, he had decided to be honest at least. “Not that I don’t know the person, I just… don’t know what to get them.”

“Man, woman?”

Bucky was grateful she did not ask him directly who it was. “Woman,” he indicated.

Thinking, Y/N had a look around her as if the shops around were going to give her the solution to all her problems.

“Books?” She suggested, looking back at him. Bucky could help but grimaced; he had already ruled out this option himself. She had already a quite impressive collection of books and while she would like this, it would be way too easy to offer her one.

“Alright, no books then.” She looked around some more, and her eyes landed on a jewellery’s shop. “A jewel, maybe?”

Bucky’s face went blank. He had not thought of this, but it suddenly felt like it was a lot. Who would buy you jewel for a silly Secret Santa? Not a coworker, he was sure of it. It would be too obvious, and besides, he would be offering it in front of everyone. If he were to do that, he was sure Natasha would call him out in front of everyone and he would rather not.

“No worries, doesn’t have to be an engagement ring!” She laughed and God, what a nice sound to hear, he thought. Her playfully making fun of him didn’t ease the restlessness in his stomach though.

“Could be simple earrings or a brooch. What do you think?”

That, Bucky thought was a good idea. Something discreet and that she could wear with everything, yet something that would emphasize her natural beauty. It seems like the best idea he had never had. So, they made their way to the first jewellery’s shop and were quick to make their way out of it. It had too much gold and their jewelleries were too big, too flashy, not her type at all.

They tried a second one where everything seemed so cheap that Y/N wondered out loud if people were really buying from there – once again, Bucky could only agree. They tried a third one in which the salesman immediately took them for a couple. Their cheeks went hot as if they were teenagers caught making out under the bleachers of the gymnasium. After they had denied, they separated to inspect the displays.

Bucky looked over a couple of display cases. When he saw that hair jewellery, he knew it was exactly what he was looking for. A piece discreet, she could use to have their hair up when she was doing experiments in the lab. A jewel she would also be able to wear for a more festive occasion. The only problem was that Y/N was only a couple of meters away and he had no ideas how he would be able to buy it without her knowing it…

“Found something you like?”

Bucky jumped, not having seen Y/N coming back to his level. She had already had a look at the other side of the shop, but nothing had quite caught her eyes. Bucky mumbled something about a pair of earrings he had seen. They were simple, a simple loop, quite small and in a silver. Truth be told, he only thought they were okay, but it wasn’t like he had a lot of options anyway.

Y/N examined them through the Plexiglas and Bucky fiddled with his fingers, obviously anxiously waiting for her opinion.

“Lovely,” was all she said.

“You’re not convinced,” Bucky retorted, a bit bitter.

“No, no,” she shook her head and pointed at her ears. He then realized she didn’t have her ears pierced.  “Couldn’t wear them personally as you can see. But these are really lovely, Bucky. Simple and would still go with everything. It’s a good choice.”

Keen to be done with it, Bucky called after the salesman and let him he would buy those ones. He specifically asked for a receipt ticket, in case the person didn’t like them – after all you never knew, he said. In reality, he was already planning to go back before the party and exchange them.

Y/N flashed him the biggest smile when Bucky had retrieved his purchase, and they made their way back to the car. As a gentleman, Bucky opened the car door for her and his cheeks got as hot as hers when she thanked him.

“Thank you as well, for everything! I don’t know how I would have done without you.” Indeed, he would have never found her gift had she not dragged him in this jewellery’s shop.

“Next time, I suggest we do it earlier in December though. The crowd was a nightmare in there.”

Bucky watched as his coworkers, one-by-one, exchanged gifts. There were the most banalities. Some teas. A book. A new cup. A travel-sized bottle of perfume. It only made him more anxious. His own gift sat on his lap seemed to weight a ton. Was this really a good idea? Finally, he blamed himself for not having bought this Christmas novel that was recommended by all bookshops in town. At least, he would have been sure Y/N would have liked it…

Bucky was so lost in his thought that he did not realize right away that it was now Steve opening the gift he had received. A small black box that looked way too small for a belt to fit in it. He frowned as Steve discovered a small iPod Nano and got up to give Tony a hug.

He instantly searched for Y/N, whom he found sat a couple of seats from him. She caught his eyes as if she had been waiting for him to look up at her. Her lips twist into a strange, somewhat nervous smile that Bucky couldn’t quite comprehend. Frowning, he watched as she took the package in front of her before getting up.

Heart racing, he watched as she made her way to him. Only realising what he thought was really happening as she handed him the white package with a sly smile. He unwrapped the package knew exactly what this was in it. Just to think that he thought he had helped to pick out his own present.

To his surprise, he discovered another belt in the box, the one he had really liked that day.

“I asked the saleswoman to get the one you liked when you weren’t watching,” Y/N explained, cheeks definitely as hot as his.

Bucky had to clear his throat. He felt all kinds of emotions looking at the belt in his hands. It was a lot of them, none that he could identify. It created a storm inside of him, though it wasn’t one of those storms that would destroy everything in its path. No… It was a good storm. One of those that had hotness embracing you, making you fell love. And he simply couldn’t believe it. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry that I- well, I kind of lied to you. I just wanted to get you something- something nice.”

“I know,” he said, taking the package on his lap. “I did too.”

“Me?” Y/N asked as if she couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, you.”

She laughed as she opened it and saw that instead of cute earrings there was a hair jewellery in it. Of course, he didn’t offer her the earrings, she wouldn’t be able to wear them.

She looked back to him with incomprehension in her eyes.

“I went back to exchange it,” Bucky explained, chuckling nervously of this whole situation and coincidence. “Do you like it?”

“Yes! It’s beautiful. Thank you so much!”

Y/N kissed his cheek and hugged him. Her embrace was like the storm actually surrendering him this time. Around them, everyone continued to exchange gifts, but Bucky couldn’t care. They probably had never been this close. His nose was in her hair, and he could smell the perfume of her shampoo. He never wanted to let go.

On the other side of the table, he saw Natasha winked at him. The enormous smile on her face made him think it was indeed not a coincidence that Y/N also draw his name, but at this moment, he couldn’t care less. He had everything he needed.

[lakefu]

A Perfect Warmth 🕯️

Summary: Astarion and Tav take a well deserved break away form the chaos of their adventures at an inn inside Baldur's Gate. They need to clean up and get back on the road but they keep getting distracted. Perhaps plans could be delayed for a night of passion...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Tags: 18+, Explicit, fluffy smut, brief Astarion trauma response, PIV, erogenous elf ears, scent kink, blood + biting, a bit of praise, a bit of edging... a sprinkle of cockwarming...., these guys are in love...

Word count: 3.5k Note: This was my first fic originally uploaded on Ao3 on 11/27/23, inspired by the patch #4 dev note mentioning adding sponges to clean your companions. I've made edits from the Ao3 post.

“Remind me to sell this junk next time we pass by a merchant, would you dear?” Astarion was seated at the edge of the bed and rummaging through his traveler’s pack, placing various items on the nightstand for further examination. Two silver forks, an old necklace, and a handful of various polished stones ended up on the table before he plucked out an intricate sapphire ring and held it up to the sunlight peeking through the window.

“Good taste,” he muttered to himself. He placed the ring on his pinky finger in amusement and resumed the scavenge. 

“It’s going to get difficult sneaking up on people if I have to lug this heavy thing around you know.” He threw over a glance at Tav, who was preoccupied with gathering laundry together in preparation for the next day.

“It wouldn’t be so heavy if you didn’t pocket nearly every shiny thing we came across,” she teased, without even looking over at him.

He gasped dramatically. “Framed by my own lover? Quite the scandal. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the near dozen times you’ve asked me to hold onto your things because your own pack was too full.”

“Hmm. Maybe. I guess that might sound sort of familiar…” She giggled to herself and walked into the bedroom to catch his eye, meeting him with a mischievous grin. 

“Why are you such a- oh! Now, what’s this you’re wearing?” Astarion blinked and scanned her up and down, clearly enthralled by the wardrobe change. She stood there in an old linen robe that was yellowed with age, definitely unlike anything he had ever seen her in before.

“Just some old thing I found in the dresser here, isn’t it just fabulous?” Tav's words were dripping in sarcasm and yet she smiled, performing a grandiose little spin in the middle of the room as if she was wearing the most beautiful ball gown in the world.

“I… it’s just so different from your usual armor or that drow nightwear you fancy so much. You look so… domestic.” His eyes were locked onto Tav intensely, with brow furrowed as he seemed to be confused by his own words.

She felt her heart skip a beat and a flush run to her face.

“And you think that’s a good look for me?”

His eyes softened and he paused a moment before quietly answering.

“Yes… I do.”

Tav watched as his smile faded and the gaze of his eyes became increasingly more distant. The atmosphere seemed to shift and a slight panic ran through her body. Did she do something wrong? No... and it didn’t require a tadpole connection to get an understanding for what had brought down his spirits.

Astarion hadn’t considered a comfortable domestic life was possible for someone like him. Even the slightest concept of such a thing had been buried for over a hundred years, and he never expected it to resurface. Was he worthy of such a thing, and was it even possible? 

Oh, it was possible. The evidence was standing right in front of him, spinning circles in an ugly bathrobe. He could see glimpses of a happy future that was so close to being a reality he nearly felt nauseous. Not because he was unsure of himself, but because there were still too many unresolved matters they had a duty to attend to. Too many missions and stupid little quests that could now go wrong and threaten this idea of a happy ending he never even knew was possible.

Everything was different now that he realized what was possible, and he suddenly felt an unknown and uncomfortable pressure. All he knew was that he couldn’t afford to lose in the upcoming battles. Battles that some would say were impossible, suicidal even. The thought of loss at this point was beyond unbearable. It was sickening just to think about.

“Hey!!” Tav ran up to where he was sitting on the bed and took his head in her hands. She placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, knowing she had to get him focused on something else.

“Why don’t we go to the shop right now and get rid of that stuff,” she motioned to the collection of items that had been gathered on the nightstand.

“Wouldn’t hurt to get some more coin in our pockets, right?” She looked at him expectantly and felt a huge relief as a light seemed to return to his eye and meet her view.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that horrid robe to see the merchant,” he sighed and looked up at her pleadingly.

“Of course not!! I’ll change and- oh gods!!! We’ve got to get this blood off your face, the merchant is going to think we are trying to kill him!” Tav exclaimed as she lightly shook his shoulders, and quickly began examining his body to see how much cleaning would have to get done before they could leave.

“Blood… on my face?” He raised an eyebrow and brought a finger to his cheek.

“Yeah!! Well, it’s all over you really, dontcha remember earlier today, fighting those cultists?? You sneaked up behind one of ‘em and BAM!!! Just obliterated with a single strike, it was amazing!! You’re so strong…you know.” Her pulse was racing at the mere memory of the event as she delicately traced the side of his face with her fingers and ventured down to his chest. 

“Ah of course. That was all so terribly easy I’d nearly forgotten,” he said proudly, adjusting his posture and keeping his eyes on Tav’s hand movements sliding across his chest. Her soft touch was becoming more firm as her fingers made their way toward his arms, giving his biceps a teasing squeeze before leaning her face into his and teasing a kiss.

Before their lips could touch, Astarion wags a finger in between their faces as if to remind Tav of the task at hand.

“Alright my sweet, let’s clean up shall we? You’re my mirror after all. So, go on then.” He took her hands into his own and gave them a kiss before placing them back at her side, encouraging her to go and gather whatever it was she needed to get him cleaned up.

Right, the supplies. It was nearly impossible to remain focused after moments of intimacy with him, no matter how brief they were. She quickly moved into the other room to acquire the washcloths and bucket of soapy water that she was using for herself not too long ago. Hands full, she scurried back to the bedroom to meet her lover, who hadn’t moved an inch.

As she approached him, Tav could feel the tie on her robe becoming increasingly more loose with each step that was taken across the floor. The embarrassment hit her as she realized she didn't have any hands free to do anything about it. She quickly tried to put the bucket down by the bedside, but the bending movement only resulted in the robe slipping off one of her shoulders, exposing a bare breast.

“Oh? You haven’t got anything on underneath?” Astarion cocked his head in amusement, eyes unmoving from the newly exposed skin.

“Ye-yeah that’s the whole point of robes isn’t it? I was doing laundry earlier ya know and umm,” She laughed nervously and started to fix the wardrobe malfunction but was quickly stopped by a hand over her own. Astarion reached out toward her until both hands were around her waist and pulled her in close to his body. Fangs were peeking through his devious smile while determined eyes looked her up and down. With a singular finger he crept over to the loose knot of the robe’s tie and flicked it completely undone with one swift movement.

Tav shuddered and felt her body starting to run warm despite now being suddenly exposed to the cool air of the inn. She was completely revealed to him now, the robe only just clinging to her arms and draped across her backside.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he sighed and began kissing her stomach and caressing the curves of her waist. “Come here.”

Tav gasped as she felt his cold grip around her waist tighten as he expertly lifted her up onto his lap with ease. Pleased at the new angle, Astarion shifted his attention to kissing the crook of her neck and started moving down her chest. He delightfully found her nipple with his mouth in no time, and teased it in circles with his tongue just as he knew she liked it. His gentle sucking continued for only a few brief moments before he suddenly withdrew and cleared his throat.

“Ah, well. You can reach my face better up here I’m sure. For the cleaning of course,” he said smugly. The elf leaned back and admired the view of his lover, nude and flustered, perched oh-so perfectly on top of him.

“The cleaning…” Tav nodded and remembered she still had a warm and soapy washcloth in her hand. The urge to throw the stupid cloth into some unknown corner of the room was nearly undeniable. All she wanted in this moment was for him to take her completely, in any way he wanted, it didn’t matter as long as she ended up getting fucked into oblivion. So fine. On with the cleaning.

She raised the washcloth to his temple and slowly began to wipe away the dried blood by working down his face. His cheeks were a bit sunken as usual but flushed adorably in this moment, clearly enjoying the tender rubs of cloth on his skin. She continued rubbing down toward his chiseled jawline, across to his lips, and back up the other side to repeat the process once more. She ran her fingers through his silver curls and noticed his ears would need cleaning too. 

One hand caressed the pointy ear to keep it in place and the other brought the washcloth in for a gentle scrub. A quiet moan suddenly escaped the vampire’s lips.

Oh? She had seemingly discovered a sensitive spot and noted that she would have to continue her work carefully. The scrubbing continued but Tav couldn’t keep her eyes off his face now. His eyes were closed but still noticeably moving behind their lids, and his lips were slightly parted with his breathing becoming increasingly heavier and more noticeable. 

Astarion was in his own world of pleasure. What in the hells had he been doing these past weeks, aimlessly scrubbing himself clean alone in the river when they could have been doing this the whole time instead?

He opened his eyes just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. She was still there of course, diligently and lovingly taking such good care of his body. A wave of maddening lust rushed through his core and he needed her closer. He needed her as close as physically possible and even more so after that.

Their eyes met, revealing intense desires. Tav lowered her hands and she spoke slowly, “Can you take your shirt off? There’s a spot I can’t get to with it on…” 

She wasn’t fooling anybody, but he obeyed without hesitation. The shirt was gone in seconds, revealing his pale and perfectly sculpted chest. It was a sight that Tav never tired of admiring, and was in fact the subject of distracting daydreams on the daily. She shifted her body closer to his and continued scrubbing his neck and chest, despite it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus. Deep breaths.

She had always been fond of his cologne that he was quite proud of concocting himself. The scent of aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary was now forever an Astarion specialty that she could never forget. Even during times of battle or travel, a gust of wind could carry his essence to her and bring along with it a sense of reassuring familiarity. As she continued to wipe him down, however, a different scent began to come to the forefront.

It was something that did not seem completely foreign, but it wasn't immediately identifiable either. There was something about taking it all in that felt forbidden. Tav tried to pinpoint what she was experiencing. He smelled earthy… raw… unnatural… it was without a doubt, the undeath.

An undeniable heat rose through her body as she engulfed herself with this pure scent from her lover. The washcloth, the bed, the entire room seemed miles away, and nothing felt coherent except for a craving to be even closer to him. Nothing else existed except their bodies and her overwhelming desire to-

“Eager, are we?” A sultry voice snapped her back into reality, where piercing red eyes amusingly greeted her return. She suddenly became aware of a presence between her thighs and glanced down, realizing she was sitting atop a clothed bulge. His hands had a firm grip on her backside and his encouraging movements made it clear she had been absentmindedly grinding on him during her trance. 

“Shit, I got carried away…” She hadn’t taken her eyes off his crotch and began to notice that her excitement had left a dampness on his clothes. Embarrassment nearly overtook her, but a gentle yet confident hand grabbed her chin and brought it up to meet his gaze. He leaned into her with a grinning open mouth and kissed her passionately, tongues intertwining.

She felt his fangs briefly scrape against her tongue every so often until a metallic taste became increasingly noticeable. She didn't mind the blood, especially since it seemed to enhance his arousal as noted by his hips continuously jolting faster up into her exposed crotch. Tav was soon pleasantly overwhelmed between his deep kisses and desperate hands groping her at every curve of her body. She longed to give him everything; her blood for his hunger, her body for his pleasure. 

Tav released herself from the kiss they had been locked into and tilted her head so that her neck became exposed as an undeniable gift. His mouth lunged at the presented spot as soon as it was noticed, fangs immediately sinking in deep. Tav cried out at the initial impact but soon was reveling in the experience. It was a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure that she was only capable of experiencing from him.

He remained on her neck for a while, still tightly holding on to her body and keeping one hand free to reassuringly caress the back of her head. It was only after the blood flow slowed to a near stop did he cease his medley of licking and sucking at the wound. Blood dripped down his chin and onto his exposed chest, but he was ultimately unfazed. He leaned back, clearly happy and mostly satisfied, but there was still a different type of satisfaction he had left to chase.

Astarion's throbbing erection was begging to be released from its clothed restraints. He quickly untied his pants and shifted his underwear to finally free it. He moaned a few incomprehensible words of relief and stroked himself a few times before looking up at Tav for approval.

Tav had been staring at his length from the moment it was exposed, an impressive size for an elf, no doubt. Her eyes fixated on his perfectly pink tip, glistening with precum just for her. She immediately fantasized of shoving him down her throat until she choked and cried, but that was a fantasy for another day. In their current position, they both knew there was only one simple way of how to continue.

“Astarion,” she whimpered. “Fuck me.”

Tav sat up on her knees and positioned herself so that her entrance was just nearly grazing the head of his dick, ready to take him in completely at any moment. She grabbed ahold of his shaft and guided the tip back and forth through her folds until he was covered in her slick. The new sensation of the friction between them left them both gasping and desperate for more.

Suddenly, finally, his arms wrapped around her body as he pulled her down onto him with one firm motion. Astarion grunted through his teeth while Tav moaned unapologetically, focusing on relaxing enough to allow her body to adjust to his length inside of her. 

The temperature differences between their bodies only heightened the feelings of pleasure whenever they became one. Her warmness was intoxicating to him, granting a sense of safety and bliss that was impossible to achieve anywhere else. He was already so close to the edge in this moment, but was not ready to give in just yet. He wanted this moment of heaven to last as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Tav was having the time of her life riding her man like there was no tomorrow. She had no intent to slow down until a pair of large hands suddenly gripped her hips in a way that prevented any further movement.

“I’m not done with you yet, love. Didn’t you notice the mess I’ve made after feasting on you?” Astarion took a finger to his chin and smeared a bit of Tav’s fresh blood down his neck.

It was true, he had made a mess. Quite uncharacteristically of him in fact. Tav had assumed he had simply gotten careless in his horny and feral craze but no- it was clearly all calculated. 

“Just be still and sit nice and pretty on my cock. Finish the cleaning, then I’ll take care of you myself. How does that sound?” 

How does that sound? His words echoed in her head, which was already spinning plenty enough as it was. She was unsure if it was from the blood loss or her seemingly never ending carnal desires, but perhaps it was both. One thing was certain, however, he could convince her to do damn near anything speaking in that low and lustful tone of his. Without uttering a word she slowly brought the washcloth up to his chest. 

“Good girl,” he whispered. He felt her body twitch around him in response to the praise, and he leaned back to relax and enjoy these final few moments of intimacy. 

It had taken everything in Tav's power to remain still while she worked. It wasn't exactly easy to focus- she was being split in half by a whimpering vampire beneath her after all. Astarion’s skilled fingers had been dancing around her swollen clit the whole time, just enough to keep her stimulated but never enough to let her come.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the blood was all cleaned up. She hadn't even realized when it happened or how he did it, but his pants were completely gone now. She reached over to place the cloth down and awaited her reward of sweet release.

Astarion’s hands moved to the knees that were straddling him and slowly pushed them farther apart, spreading Tav’s legs open bit by bit. She inhaled sharply as she took him in deeper. He opened her up more and more until she lost her balance and fell backwards onto his expectant embrace. 

“Relax darling, I’ve got you,” He purred in reassurance. 

Astarion took her entire weight in his arms with ease and laid her down amongst the soft pillows of the bed. He nestled himself comfortably between her legs, making sure their bodies were flush with one another. Nearly smothered by his body now, all Tav could do was claw at his back and arch her hips into his powerful thrusts. His mouth frantically traveled across her lips and neck with desperately wet kisses until he settled near her ear with a playful nibble.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispered tenderly, while the rhythm of his lovemaking became increasingly sporadic. “So fucking perfect… Gods…just for me… I love you… so much...”

“Star, I- ah!” Her words cut short as she felt something snap within her. Pure ecstasy- she was falling and flying somewhere a million galaxies away and never wanted to come back. Obscene noises and curses filled the room as they rode out each other’s high in tight embrace. The smell of sex lingered in the air as their bodies heaved with labored breaths, finally collapsing on each other in exhaustion. 

They laid together a while longer, exchanging soft kisses and enjoying the short moment in time where nothing else in the world mattered. Eventually, Astarion rolled out of the bed and stood up to stretch. 

“Tsk, looks like it’s my turn to clean you up my dear,” He said with an accomplished grin, eying how her thighs were dripping with his sticky mess.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move an inch. Actually, I doubt you can move at all after that, ahaha!” He laughed and leaned over to brush aside a strand of Tav’s sweaty hair that was stuck to her forehead before walking over to the other room. 

“Shut up… dummy…” she smiled to herself and rolled over, feeling at ease enough that the weight of sleep was starting to overtake her.

“I love you too, Astarion.” Her eyes closed as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that her lover would soon come back to her side like he always did, and always would.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Platonic! Yandere Daemon as your father...

. Daemon is proud of his blood. The moment he heard of a child that bore striking resemblance to his features, he immediately set out to reclaim what was his. He cared little for the woman who he shared a bed with, you were his child. He cares little for your bastard heritage, as long as you were his, he wanted you.

. The moment he sets his cold steel eyes upon your little form, he grew entranced. So this is the little one he's heard so much about. he wastes no time scooping you up and tucking you under his arm, trudging back to his sneering red beast as you wail and kick. The sooner he gets you home, the better. Your fight almost amuses him, a feeling warming in his chest that he has another firey daughter to call his own. Baela and laena will love you.

. Now obviously Daemon is not a man of... Honour, so to speak. You already had a heavy inkling since he kidnapped you, but learning about his disastrous and odd relationships with other women, it only digs the hole of contempt deeper. The older you grow, the more you understand. The concepts clear, the ones that held no weight or comprehension to your young troubled mind holding clarity and meaning. It's safe to say whatever bond he yearns for is all but doomed attempts. Still, he pushes and pushes. He'll keep you pinned under his thumb for as long as he can, at any cost.

. It's a strong chance that he may not want you to have a dragon of your own. A dragon meant freedom. Power. Something he felt you had no need for, you have a whole castle of Dragonriders who will defend you to their last breath after all. Why need one? Besides, Ceraxes is right here. He'll probably encourage you to rely on Ceraxes or Syrax the most. If you want dragons, they are at your disposal. If you were to gain a dragon, he'd be disgruntled at best, passive aggressive at worst.

. He is not around often, due to his little side quests and whatnot. What keeps him fairly calm is knowing that you're in safe hands within the secure walls of dragonstone. Rhaenary adores you like her own, and you are often kept distracted with toys and books and dresses and dragons to your hearts content. As long as you stay within the castle, he doesn't mind you all too much.

He does however have passive aggressiveness towards his nephew, Aegon, with his ill treatment of you. At some point Daemon probably encourages you to wack the boy back, yes, with that heavy book right there... Probably followed by a snide little chuckle as Alicent can only silently hold her tongue in discontent.

. Ceraxes is just as transfixed with you. He's a nosy dragon around you, fixing you with wide eyed glares that seem to drink your existence in, imposing and domineering. However he sings and chirps in your presence, purring happily to see you. Daemon will try to take you on as many dragon rides with you as possible as a child, wanting to find something to do to spend time with you. Something mutual, despite the unequal power balance. You love dragons, and your princely father has a dragon. A beautiful dragon. A serpentine dragon of blood red scales and filled with song. Come now, sweetling. Don't you like ceraxes? He loves you. Dry your eyes and hurry along. Look, he's added an extra harness to the saddle just for you.

Now when you do agree to ride, albeit a little dishearteningly, Daemon is truly happy. His smile is slight and thin, but his eyes speak all. Ceraxes will purr in his shrill song, pressing himself low to the floor as your father lifts you up to sit upon the saddle. Daemon can ignore your pouting quite contently.

. Baela and rhaena are your fond half-sisters, who often feel like your only rocks amidst the storm you've been dragged into. They are protective and patient with you, and are usually the only ones to truly listen to your woes and pleas. There is little they can do, like taking you back home. Besides, they have their own motives. They hate to see you miserable, but you'll have a considerably better life in the castle. You'll always be fed and kept safe, you'll never have to sleep upon straw or wear rags again. They still remember the little grimy child that Daemon brought home, and they dread the thought of you living like that again. They are a little yandere too, but considerably more relaxed and gentle. They don't say no to having you join them on dragon rides or horseback riding away from DragonStone, but as long as you return with them, they'll be content.

"Consider, sister" baela will coo

"father will find you. Ceraxes undoubtedly has your scent" rhaena chimes in, stroking your cheek and thumbing away a tear.

"and we would miss you" baela whispers, sharing a look with her twin. They both equally bear the burden knowing that there is little escape for you, and they sympathise with your situation. However- ultimately, like dragons, they are filled with greed and fire. They enjoy having you at home with them. They like braiding and styling your hair, or reading you stories, or having you interact with their dragons. Morning and moondancer are lovely dragons, and are the least smothering. They'll croon and let you pet them, but they won't stare like Ceraxes or nudge you around like a worrisome mother like Syrax. It's a strong chance as well that you were there to comfort them as they grieved their mother, even if it had been a couple years after her passing. Grief is still stricken in their hearts, but you- the little tearful bastard child, held empathy for them. You had just lost your mother, so to speak, and knew what it was like not being able to see her again. To never hear her voice once more, or to feel the touch of her hands upon your brow or her lips against your forehead.

You had embraced them with all your childlike bashfulness and clumsiness, embracing them hard in your little arms as they sniffled into your shoulders. Your words, despite being ungraceful and poised, were heartfelt. Since then, they were glued to you. Often being stuck in-between them and holding their hands as they weaved throughout lords and ladies at banquets and balls, giggling with warm joy as you would try to keep up with them- a big smile on your face for once.

. Daemon will see your close bond with your half-sisters and use it to his advantage. He'll watch you all embrace and giggle and play, and watch fondly. Knowing that you at least had a reason to smile here now.

. It is settled in his mind. Rhaenyra will keep you smothered in pretty things and toys and books, your half-sisters will keep you smiling, and he will keep you safe in your cage.

. One saving grace from Daemon, however is that he won't give your hand away to any lord that comes tottering by. So? You think because she is a bastard it means she should just settle for whatever she can get? That's his princess you're talking about. Daemon is always sure of his view of marriage- it's for political power. But for you, due to your heritage and claim, there is no need to hand you over to a lord or prince. It's the only shred of freedom you'll be granted, and let's be honest, life as a targarian woman isn't pretty. The gods could ask for you, and he'll still deny them.

. Overall, he would be a pretty standoffish yet controlling yandere. He'll use the people around you to keep you trapped and within his control, and stand in with his intimidation and wit to keep things running the way he wants it. There is little chance of escaping with him as your father- he has eyes across the earth, the oceans, and the sky. But as long as you stay content within the stone walls of your prison, all will be well.

[ceratedfish24]

There are SO many negative nancys this season. Y’all need to cut it out. You’ve gotten so entitled.

“This was a bad wildcard” I don’t know how old you are, but I was in 3rd grade when I was taught how to give constructive criticism, and I was way younger when I learned that most people don’t like receiving unsolicited criticism. All of the players have loved the challenge of each of the wild cards. They have loved staying on their toes. If they genuinely hated it, they would have said something. Changes would be made. If it’s not interesting to you, then you can stay quiet and leave. You’ve gotten way too comfortable disrespecting people from behind a screen.

“The teams are unoriginal” Making sure that the players are having a good time is among the top priorities of this series. They are naturally going to link up with people they’re comfortable with. If you have a problem with that, then maybe you need to be put in a room with your best friends and some people you kind of know and be criticized when you gravitate towards your best friends. I don’t understand why you all are having such a problem with the concept of seeking comfort in a scary and unpredictable environment.

“Pearl shouldn’t be on a team with Cleo and Scott” well, she made her choice, didn’t she. That’s not up to you. She is an adult. She can choose who she hangs out with. Cleo and Pearl have not had significantly more of a rivalry than any other two players on the server. It seems like you’re just paying more attention to them because they’re women. Don’t try to take away from Pearl’s autonomy. Don’t try to conduct who she hangs out with. It’s really fucked up, what happened to Grian and Scar. Don’t let it happen again. Additionally, Pearl doesn’t care if you don’t think her character should be getting along with Cleo and Scott. The lore is made to fit the events of the server, and never the other way around. If you’re not creative enough to come up with a lore-reason for Pearl, Cleo, and Scott to be getting along, then I really don’t know how you’re still alive.

“Scott’s going to kill Pearl” why. Why would he do that. What record do you have of Scott betraying Pearl for no reason. The only reason he didn’t want to accept her as his ally in Double Life was because he just teamed with her in Last Life, and you all have proven just how much you’re gonna whine about a repetitive team. What history does Scott have of killing his own teammates. The biggest concern on that team is Impulse, who is notorious for holding grudges and betraying alliances. And yet your focus is on the catty two who are loyal to the core. Does that not sound like stereotyping to you? Do you even watch their perspectives? Cause you don’t act like you do.

It is a legitimate miracle that Grian is giving us another season. Be grateful, or we’re not getting another. You try coming up with balanced ideas that will last 6-8 episodes with ~15 people. See how many you come up with.

[wonryllis]

after hours, i can be whatever you want me to be ⭑ ( lhs. )

⭑ FEATURING horrendously down down bad lee heeseung x kinda naive philophobic fem!reader. where heeseung has no intentions of escaping your cages, forever remaining under the spell of your love. ( ARCHIVE? )

⭑ GENRE & WARNINGS fluff, toxic situation, almost kissing, mildly suggestive WORDCOUNT 0.834k

she's crazy but i love her.

heeseung's steps are slow and calculated, eyes glued on your figure trying to make your way to his car. stumbling and wobbly in heels you (kind of) seem accustomed to, feet clicking against the pavement in a hasty stride. he's worried. you were out with friends past midnight on a weekday, called him all drunk to pick you up from the bar and now you are barely able to walk straight, ankle on the verge of twisting at any given moment but you wouldn't let him hold you. he's worried sick.

"angel please just hold onto me hm?" he pleads rushing over when you visibly slip on an uneven part, hands almost gripping around your waist as you manage to keep your balance, staggering back into his arms in a couple of steps.

"you! who are you!" your hands push against his chest as you turn around startled. there it goes, again! heeseung sighs knowing what's to come. it's the third time in the last fifteen minutes, going over this exact conversation word to word.

"it's heeseung, your cousin's friend and your friend," he makes sure to emphasize on 'your friend' trying to stop this before it gets further into the loop.

"where's my cousin?" you ask, looking around the rather empty parking lot.

"he working," heeseung's explanation is dry because he knows you'll cut him off before he can say anything more,"and why are you here?" just like that. he remembers the first time this happened, when you were actually sober and met him at your cousin brother: jay's workplace. you showed up out of nowhere, without any notice and jay was going bonkers at how he'll get you back home when he has the most important client waiting for him in the next room. heeseung hadn't thought much when he offered to drop you off, a favor for a friend that was all it was to him.

"because you called me, angel," but god was he wrong, for he swears the moment he laid his eyes on you he was a goner. you were too darn pretty to be just a favor. you were younger, a party girl always running out to frat and sorority gatherings, bars and clubs. often calling jay to pick you up to avoid letting your parents know of your shenanigans.

"why did i call you and not my cousin?" everytime he had wished it was him and not jay, even though ultimately he was the one who went. carrying your cute drunk ass to your mansion and getting you to your room as discreetly as possible. you are a rich girl, two worlds apart and heeseung has felt it in many ways than not.

"because i'm your cousin's friend and you know me well," heeseung never thought he'd ever be more than just your cousin's friend to you. at least he hopes he is more. you have done things with him that you'd definitely not do with just your cousin's friend. a space curtaining acquaintance and lover, he hangs dangerously cold and heedless.

"so where's my cousin?" between days left ghosted and nights you throw your arms around him he stands unsure of his place in your life. at times he feels you know he's the one who could treat you better than any of the guys you cry for. yet there are moments when there's this sturdy wall you build, holding him away for the sake of not losing him like others. afraid of love is what you refuse you are but heeseung knows your conceptions of it are a little too twisted, broken he dare say. and his love for you is so far and conflicted to the things you have experienced, he understands the lengths and the time it will take for you to recognize and accept him.

"you know what, i'm getting you in the car myself," in an instance his hands grip at the back of knees and the curve of your waist, hauling you up in his arms. he walks quick to his car parked at the far end, smiling through the constant pouty mumbles of yours. eyeing you every two seconds, not being able to resist that pretty face of yours.

it is absolutely not in him to ever resist that pretty face of yours, your pretty eyes and your pretty lips as they graze against his own in gentle brushes. arms looped around his neck and thighs resting on the soft matress of your bed, albeit on each side of his own, yet again. sitting on his lap, so close, bodies pressed. "heeseungie, please stay," your voice a sultry whisper of a whine, a naive vixen, if that's even a thing.

lee heeseung knows he will never have the power to refuse you, he will be whatever you want him to be for how ever long you will want him to be.

you make him crazy and he loves you for that.

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @okwonyo @enhabooks @jjunae @criminalyun @enhacrumbsss @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @mxxnintheskyreblogs

[kingofthewilderwest]

We need to start questioning the conflation of "maturity" with "increased stakes."

It's not to say higher stakes is always a bad choice. The first half of the How to Train Your Dragon book series has an endearingly whimsical, child-like feel. Hiccup's issues in the first half of book one are an obnoxious, cat-sized Toothless pooping in his helmet. The movie adaptation might have made the book and its counterpart distant cousins, but it was a thoughtful move to alter concepts to the appropriately theatrical: books and movies aren't the same medium. Hiccup riding alone on Toothless, exchanging fire blasts with a mountain-sized dragon, and losing his leg came off as well-done storytelling.

Hiccup staring at a prosthetic never happened in the book. He didn't lose his leg in his encounter with the Green Death. It was, as the creative powers behind the movie said, a result of the increased stakes. They didn't do this just to be more dramatic; they did it because it seemed that, based on how their narrative was going, this made sense. And this was a soft, quiet, shocking, breath-taking scene that instilled how good the movie handled its stakes. It gave us a reflective reaction to consequences that audiences might not have expected. This movie understood timing, pauses, quietness, narrative arc, poignance, reflection, emotion, love, and heart.

We know about the conflation of live action as "more mature" than animation. But a medium doesn't change maturity levels. We all know that's bogus, and many analyses have been given on that. Disney live actions add extraneous gunk, down to Gaston having a past relationship with war (so I've heard, from the people who actually watched the movie), and Disney giving us the sad scoop on why Belle's mom isn't around. Furthermore, lots of times, when I see the conversion of animation to live action, I notice creators feel a need to "raise the stakes" -- in line with the erroneous view of "giving maturity."

But "higher stakes" often means inserting action in place of mindful interaction. I feel today's Hollywood movies, in their treatment of "action," don't let movies pause and breathe anymore - ergo, they don't let us think. Isn't it more juvenile to actively avoid thought in favor of "hey look I made the building go boom"? There may be less "stakes" in introspection and mindful dialogue, but that's what gives it its maturity. That's how we went from Iron Man 1, with its grounded treatment of war and abuse, to the mindless high spectacle MCU is today.

Snappy one-liners or moments that clap at contemporary issues don't substitute for maturity. What can make a story mature is characters grappling with issues in a natural narrative through-line. A snappy one-liner is its own form of speedy spectacle.

We know about the conflation of "gore and sex" with "mature audiences." I believe they're right that graphic sex and gore is designed for adults. But that doesn't make it mature, and that doesn't make it the only way to target a medium for adults.

"Realisticness" isn't maturity. Per above regarding animation: realistic visuals are nothing. And if you think that putting more Debbie Downer material into your adaptation makes it more adult, you have to ask yourself why the themes that spoke to people's souls got muddled in its midst. We weren't mature enough to interact with the most subtle, nuanced, and impacting voice of the story. But hey! Look! There's more corpses, I guess!

It's not the visuals, it's not the events. It's not the "things." It's not the basic insertion of the external. Get past the superficial, get past the top layer of presentation. It's the mind. It's the ability to think. It's the ability to be still. It's the ability to be interested and attentive when something is slow or quotidian, because we can understand why that is important for narrative growth or arcs or themes or commentary on the human condition. It's the ability to know when and when not to include something. It's the ability to make resonant impact. It's the ability to be deep with your emotions or your themes. It's the ability to take what you have and grow it in a way by which we can derive something deeper.

Maturity is critical thought and well-conducted, appropriate responses to content of any kind.

As DeBlois tells Empire, the move to live-action brings a different emphasis to How To Train Your Dragon; a new heft, both physically and emotionally. “It’s so dialed-up in terms of stakes — having a fully credible, photo-real dragon stomping around trying to kill him,” the director says.

And maybe that DeBlois quote is taken out of context. Maybe there's more going on than that one sentence conveys. Maybe Empire is making their own erroneous assumptions. But "so dialed-up in terms of stakes," isn't, on its own, a good appeal. The animated movie already dialed things up - and knew when to include or not include something. A live-action that imitates the visuals of the animated movie exactly, as if no independent thought has been done to its unique adaptation, to the pros and cons of the medium, to what a independently-presented story needs and doesn't need... It has to make you wonder: how many conflations of "maturity" are going on?

How long are we going to keep making our own conflations?

[knavesflames]

heyyy el

requesting politely reader ... tending to ... arlecchino with her mouth and going from starting timid to taking a bit more control to arles surprise

lots of care and love just like in the one you just posted :3

mhm ty

Hi anon<33 I hope you are doing well and having a nice night (it’s night for me). I liked this idea >:) sorry lol it took me a while to come up with a concept but I hope this suffices 😁😁😁 (hi guys the dirty words are slowly making a reappearance)

Word count: 2.2k

Contents: soft dom!reader (kind of yes), bottom Arlecchino, cunnilingus (funny word), fingering at the end, orgasm denial (ONCE GUYS OKAY ONCE), also praise (guys I’m cooked)

Songs I listened to (for fun): fantastic- king princess (is this one obvious or not), disease- lady gaga, shhh!- viviz, pivot- HEYOON, boyfriend- dove Cameron, impurities- le sserafim

There’s more but I forgot

Nsft utc<3

Arlecchino is not a receiver. She gives and takes nothing, it’s how she’s always liked it, whatever the reason may be. She has not explained, and you doubt she will. Arlecchino is very secretive, you’ve come to learn. She divulges what she must, and keeps the rest hidden. Even you, who seems to know more about her than anyone ever has, is kept in the dark about a lot of things– what exactly triggers her nightmares? What truly happened with that ‘Mother’ of hers? There are rumours, of course. Arlecchino is mad and cursed, she killed her Mother ruthlessly without reason, she killed her best friend for nothing other than a simple quarrel. You know them to be false, now you know her better, but what you can’t seem to understand is why she lets the lies fester, why allows herself to be portrayed as a cruel monster. She can’t seem to answer you.

Arlecchino also refuses to tell you why she pushes herself so hard, or why she has such strict rules for herself. You beg her to take that damn suit off constantly (for.. Multiple reasons, both you and her know that well enough– she only obliges when it ends in you as a quivering mess on the bed). “What happened to regular clothing? I know you dislike dresses, but you don’t have to force your body into that silly suit all the time.” is a phrase often uttered. Silence is the only answer given.

Silence seems to be an answer you get from her often. In different contexts, of course. Sometimes, she is silent when she is comfortable, when she is thinking, when she is angry.. You realised long ago that she is a woman of few words– and even fewer sounds. During the rare occasions you get to make her feel good (whether that’s simultaneous to your own pleasure, or before), the only sounds you really hear are the soft breaths and the slight grunts whenever you do something she particularly likes. You have made it your mission to coax more sounds out of her, even if it’s the last thing you do. You experiment with different things each time you get to make her feel good, anything remotely sexual she’s done to you, you try with her. Degradation doesn’t work, her only response is a cock of her eyebrow and a scoff. Praise is a little bit better, earning a soft kiss on whatever part of your skin she can reach. Tying her up is out of the question– she has made it abundantly clear multiple times she only enjoys the act of bondage, however small, when you are on the receiving end. It’s the case for a lot of things, and it almost irritates you. Almost. it turns out the answer is something much simpler than anything you’ve ever tried, and you mentally curse yourself for taking so long to figure it out (for Arlecchino, that was the point. She likes the game, even if she truly is trying to keep her weakness hidden).

The answer was something she had done to you almost every time you had engaged in some form of intimate act with her. There aren’t many acts more intimate than your partner giving up the ability to speak because their tongue seems to be.. Busy. You just hadn’t realised that Arlecchino would ever be on the receiving end. So, after much pleading (and begging to the point it almost seems you’re begging her to fuck you instead of the other way around), she seemed to relent. Barely.

“Let me try,” comes the soft whisper from your lips, hitting the side of her neck as you gently place kisses there. There’s no reaction, but you could swear you felt a shiver. Moving away from the milky, unmarred skin of her neck (one of the only places that isn’t marked with either her curse or an array of scars), you almost expertly push the blazer off her shoulders before slowly sinking to your knees. The carpet is fuzzy, but it doesn’t do much to soften the hard wood underneath. You can’t find yourself caring. The blazer lands on the back of the desk chair. Excited, desperate fingers tug at the buttons of those godforsaken trousers until they finally do what you want them to do. You’ve done what you can, you can’t push her hips up so you can continue to take them off, she’s stronger than you’ll ever be (you like that). “Don’t you think it would feel nice? You know it feels nice. Do you not think you deserve it?”

“I do not deserve the pleasure you give me,” she murmurs, a rare show of her inner thoughts. The woman criticises herself too much, you think. You wish she wouldn’t be so strict with herself.

“Irrelevant,” She shivers at the slight sternness of your voice. It mirrors her own. “Do you want it?”

Arlecchino doesn’t respond for a while. Her hand moves to your head, and she caresses your hair, gently stroking and tugging at the strands before she eventually speaks, a whisper, a subconscious attempt to hide the fact she’s about to chase something she never allows herself to. “Put a pillow under your knees, at least.”

You grin, so pleased with yourself. You stand again, only to sprint and find a pillow. It happens to be the pillow you sleep on, it doesn’t matter. You return to your position only to find her trousers messily on the ground, and the top four buttons of her dress shirt undone. The look in her eyes is one you’ve rarely seen– want. “Beg.” you whisper, the grin still on your face. Arlecchino’s own face twists into a frown.

“I will die before I beg for anything.” Her tone is resolute, and you sit there nonetheless, unmoving apart from the finger tracing up and down her toned thigh. You both stay like that for an agonising two minutes before she barely mumbles. “Please.”

You are incredibly aware that you won’t get more than that, so, even though you know it doesn’t do much, you mutter “good girl”. It does do something, though. You barely hear it, but her breath shakes. You take it as an initiative to start, so you let your lips find her thigh, planting wet, open mouthed kisses up towards her inner thigh. You continue, and– she’s soaked already. You’ve done exactly nothing and she’s as wetter than you’ve ever seen her. Your eyes move up to hers, a raise of your eyebrow as you open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off before you can speak.

“Do not. I am aware of the.. situation.”

“But you’re all wet and it’s all for my tongue. Isn’t that sweet?” You’ve never been this cocky at all, and Arlecchino would be a liar if she said she didn’t like it. She tries to find words, something to refute the claim, but her words are ripped from her lips when she feels your own lips graze her clit. It’s a tiny movement, really, but one she isn’t entirely used to. The only reaction she makes, however, is a slightly sharper exhale. Until your eyes stare straight into hers and you do it again, though for longer. Then again, though this time your tongue presses flat against it. Your tongue doesn’t move, much to Arlecchino’s dismay. The hand that rested in your hair gently tugs.

“Continue.” She speaks breathily, and her words shake. You can practically hear her gulp as she tries (and fails) to calm herself, and you know she’s probably telling herself to show no emotion. Though, when you finally start moving your tongue in slow, languid motions, you hear her shaky sigh and feel her hand in your hair tighten even more. You try to find a rhythm that affects her the most, alternating between soft licks and harder presses— you find that swirling your tongue around her clit, occasionally moving down to dip your tongue into her aching cunt. Your eyes dart up to her every few seconds to catch her mouth falling open and her head tilting back. When her mouth isn’t open, she’s stifling any noise she could possibly make, gritting her teeth so hard you’re almost certain they’re going to crack. The next time you tear your eyes away from her skin and move them to her face, her eyes are squeezed shut, and only then does a quiet groan escape her.

Something seems to change in your mind, because your hands move to grip her thighs, holding them apart despite them trembling. She’s sensitive, after all, it isn’t often she gets taken care of, is it? The blackened hand not pulling greedily at the strands on your head moves in an attempt to push your hands away, but your voice vibrates against her (which of course, causes another quiet sound to slip from her). “Keep your hands on the chair.”

Arlecchino’s eyes shoot open, a gasp practically ripping through her lungs. “You cannot expect me t—“

“Do it or I stop. Let me finish making you feel good.” She scolds herself internally for letting you get too comfortable with her own tricks. Either way, it feels good and she doesn’t want you to stop, though she’d rather cut off her own arm than admit it. She doesn’t need to say a word, though, the small groans (and whimpers) tell you everything. Especially when they grow louder, and her chest begins heaving, and her voice breaks with every utterance of your name. It’s the most pleasure she’s ever outwardly expressed.

“Why did you stop?” Her exasperated, breathless voice echoes the room. You stopped just as her orgasm was reaching the peak, causing it to ebb away quickly, a sense of disappointment growing in Arlecchino’s stomach. Her eyes, now piercing into you with that familiar irritated stare, meet yours, your own full of amusement. Wiping your chin (when you’re eating pussy like it’s the last meal you’ll ever eat, it tends to get messy, doesn’t it?), you chuckle and respond in your own teasing lilt.

“You taste so good, and your pussy is so damn pretty, Arlecchino. I don’t particularly want to stop right now. You can take it, can’t you? Keep your hands still.” Her face twists into some odd mix of mortified and aroused, but your tongue meets her clit again, and the only sound she can make is something so uncharacteristic, a whine. You continue exactly what you were doing before, though this time you decide to slide a finger into her— the reaction she gave was definitely a pleasant one, her back arching off of the chair, her hands squeezing the seat of it in an attempt to keep them still. Arlecchino reaches the peak quicker this time, and despite your bossy orders, she finds herself melting into you completely, her hips grinding herself onto your tongue as much as she possibly can. It’s completely different to how she was at the beginning, her plan to remain unbothered and stoic foiled.

“Can I— please don’t stop this time.” When there comes no response from you other than a curl of your finger, she moans your name in a useless attempt to get you to answer her. You’re being mean, she thinks, and you’re using everything she does against her. “Answer me. Tell me I can cum.”

How is she still demanding things from you even in this position? She lost all control a long time ago. You find your eyes opening though, and while adding a second finger, your voice softens and you speak, voice full of affection. “Be good and cum for me, then. Now, before I change my mind. Let yourself feel good, yeah?”

Arlecchino doesn’t need to be told twice, because her hips lose whatever rhythm they had when your tongue presses flat against her, letting her choose the pace and the rhythm she knows will get her there quickest (it doesn’t take long, the woman is so sexually pent up it’s laughable). Within a minute, she’s crying out, her hands flying up to her face to cover the obscene expression she knows is there. You pay no attention, only watching every movement with a sense of satisfaction and a smile in your eyes. You keep your finger curling and your tongue still until her body stops rocking, and her hands leave her face. When her face, the one you find so beautiful, emerges from behind her hands, mascara slightly smudged, you can’t help but snicker as you pull out and away from her.

“Better?” You ask, wiping your chin once more with the back of your hand. You somehow look so smug and the look on your face pisses Arlecchino off, just a little. How you’re so calm and collected and she’s a fucked out mess sat in her desk chair.

“Yes,” she says, her voice sharper than she intends it to be really, but she continues in the same tone. “I do hope you don’t think we’re finished, hm?” Your head tilts in slight confusion, but the smile remains on your face. After a while, Arlecchino’s own lips twitch upwards, barely noticeable, but you notice nonetheless. “How could I leave you without feeling good, too? Go to the bedroom, please.”

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere Aemon Targaryen (jaeh i son) concept

Sure! Naturally I differed from canon in this. You're a member of House Baratheon.

Yandere! Aemon Targaryen Concept

(Son of Jaehaerys I)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling/AFAB section, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Coerced betrothal, Forced wedding, Mentions of having kids/Pregnancy (AFAB section), Baelon is an enabler, Blood, Murder, Mentions of bedding, Isolation, Forced relationship.

When you were younger you were quite used to seeing Targaryens.

King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne were known for having many heirs.

Your father, as head of House Baratheon, naturally met with the king for certain affairs.

All Houses sworn to the crown must attend council at some point.

As a result your House was often invited to events.

Such events and meetings allowed you to meet a certain young Targaryen prince...

One who would change your life for the worst it seems.

Aemon Targaryen was one of your first experiences with a Targaryen prince.

He's the third born of the king and is always beside his younger brother, Baelon.

You had encountered Aemon during a banquet when you were young teens... which led to the prince asking you to dance with a smile.

Aemon is strong and tall, easily towering over you when you first meet him.

He's serious, cautious, careful, and modest.

Despite his strength, Aemon was never a very fierce prince.

While he was nice when asking you to dance, you noticed the prince was often very quiet.

It was as though he wasn't very social...

Turns out you were somewhat right.

Later on you learned Aemon was most into books, one day inviting you to join him as a way to get to know you better.

Like most Targaryens, Aemon has a mount.

As you grow close to the prince, you soon meet Caraxes.

The large red long necked dragon was protective of Aemon when you first met the dragon.

Although, as the dragon inspected you... he oddly seemed curious.

It was almost like he didn't see you as a threat...

You had no clue that Aemon's feelings translated to his dragon, you weren't well versed in Targaryen bonds... yet.

Your bond with Aemon started small.

When you visited him in Dragonstone or King's Landing, Aemon was always quick to greet you.

Some servants even say he could be in the middle of a task... only to drop it to meet with you.

Many would say Aemon's close to you, even Baelon would.

You always read beside him, you always watched him train...

It was thought the prince was fond of you, a Baratheon.

You felt a bit... overwhelmed when you heard such rumors.

Fond of you?

Being so involved with a Targaryen sounds... intimidating.

You try not to bring it up... but Aemon's courting only gets more obvious.

Every heir gets betrothed at some point....

As Aemon's one of the eldest and a son, it's only natural that he'd need to be betrothed as an heir.

But Aemon didn't want to take just anyone...

No, as you both grew up beside one another in your younger years, Aemon had always fallen for you.

It may go against his father's wishes... yet his mother supports his decision.

A marriage between you should make Aemon happy... and keep House Baratheon's loyalty.

Really, to you it just felt like politics.

To Aemon, this was true love.

Aemon wouldn't understand why you don't want to marry him.

You parents agree to it, you're already at Dragonstone and King's Landing often enough.

Do you not want to marry the Prince of Dragonstone?

Even Baelon encourages you, feeling you'd be the best consort for his elder brother.

Truth is, the idea of being married to the Targaryen's eldest son scares you.

That's completely understandable, too, as that would mean you'd rule alongside your husband if he became king.

While you find Dragonstone and The Red Keep fascinating places with rich history...

You don't see them as home.

Storm's End is your home as a Baratheon, you feel you have no place anywhere near the throne.

While you find Aemon an appealing prince... You aren't sure if you want to be romantically involved.

You've been scared to voice such concerns, knowing your opinion wouldn't be taken into account.

Even less so if you said you fell for someone else.

Although, when pressed by Aemon, you eventually crack.

Aemon does his best to be understanding, in some ways he's very similar to his father.

He understands you're scared, betrothal can be unnerving.

Aemon's even willing to be patient with you.

However... He isn't calling off the betrothal.

How could he?

He loves you and thinks you'll make a wonderful ruler... you'll bring pride to both of your families.

Aemon loves you with his entire being, he's dedicated and begged his parents to set you up with him.

You'll be wed in a month or two and that's final.

If you have another lover... Well, it's time to cut ties.

It's that or Aemon will do it for you.

He can't have you being unfaithful, can he?

Aemon is nice and considerate... but only gives you the illusion of choice.

He makes it sound like he'll postpone the wedding, that he'll wait until you're ready.

Yet it's never getting canceled.

If you were seeing someone before him, Aemon will most likely want to discuss with them.

If they don't seem to stay around... Baelon also has some words for them.

Although he comes with more blood.

It isn't long before you hear about it, your lover having been cut down in a supposed duel.

You know it's a lie.

Aemon doesn't look concerned in the slightest... and Baelon never seemed to like them.

Dragons do not share.

Aemon is not willing to let another House claim your heart.

He may be considerate and careful...

But he is quite serious when courting you.

Aemon would try to ease you into the betrothal as the days go by

He offers gifts, suggests dragon rides, and overall tries to show that he'll be a good husband to you.

Yet you keep denying him.

Speaking of dragons, Caraxes becomes increasingly used to you.

The dragon knows his rider has claimed you, making the dragon fond of you.

You aren't a Targaryen, not in the slightest, but the dragon never tries to burn you alive.

Caraxes won't let you ride him alone, but as long as you are with Aemon, Caraxes is alert and attentive.

It's as though the dragon and Aemon mirror emotions.

In a similar way, you notice Aemon get more possessive as the wedding date ticks down.

This isn't new for Targaryens... their links to dragons make them go mad.

Aemon is a good man to you.

Although, he begins to lose his patience if you keep trying to run from him.

You cannot run from your responsibility.

Storm's End is no longer your home.

Aemon is adamant on telling you where your home is.

Your home should be with him, by his side.

It's an honor to marry a Targaryen, a dragon rider who rules these lands.

If Aemon had to bind your wrist to him with pretty silks or even cold chains to keep you with him...

He may just do it.

Aemon isn't a very violent man.

He's strong yet always seemed to be one to negotiate unless it wasn't an option.

Aemon would never hurt you, he loves you too much.

He just wishes you'd stop hurting him.

Even during the ceremony Aemon makes sure to keep you where you're supposed to be.

Baelon promises his brother he'll watch you and prevent any escape attempts.

Even if tears threaten to spill from your eyes... Aemon's there to wipe them gently.

He tells you there's no need to cry... you both were destined for this...

Yet you can't bring yourself to be happy... not when Baelon killed your lover... not when Aemon threatened to tie you to his side...

Aemon says he loves you, sealing the deal with a kiss...

Yet you're just scared for what your life is to become.

AFAB Section

After weddings, the bedding ceremony usually commences.

Aemon is gentle during it, whispering sweet nothings as he kisses your skin.

By the end of it he cuddles you close, whispering how you'll be a good queen for him.

The Smallfolk are supportive of your marriage, King's Landing erupting in excitement.

Many are excited for Aemon to have an heir, be that a young prince or princess.

You do your best to put on a smile, to pretend you too are excited to see what the future will bring.

But you aren't the happiest.

Aemon is loving, yet you already had a love.

Now, for the sake of being a queen, you are to have Aemon's heir...

You barely had any time to grieve.

Aemon becomes protective of his wife... but he isn't the only one.

Caraxes can now sense Targaryen blood deep in your system once Aemon beds you.

You are growing a babe and the dragon seems to notice.

Aemon often takes you to Caraxes to get used to his mount.

The dragon, in response, always sniffs and chitters at you.

Aemon then grins, holding his beloved wife close, even as she stares blankly at her stomach.

You may not even know you're pregnant until Caraxes notifies you both.

Which leads to Aemon kissing your forehead, praising you for being his love.

I imagine Aemon would take you to Dragonstone to keep you safe.

It's quieter than The Red Keep in King's Landing.

You don't particularly like it as it makes you feel more isolated than you were.

Aemon is a seemingly good husband to you.

Even if you still dislike him coercing you into being his wife.

Unlike his father, Aemon doesn't mind when you have a daughter.

To him, Rhaenys is a beautiful baby girl, and she's yours.

Aemon would love any babe if you were the one who gave him them.

Once Rhaenys is born, Aemon rarely wants to leave your side.

Even as Rhaenys grows up, Aemon is already introducing her to dragons.

Having Rhaenys is probably the final nail in the coffin for you, now you truly are bound to Aemon.

After all, you can't seem to leave your daughter.

Even as she claims her dragon Meleys... or marries Corlys Velaryon... you adore her, even if you're disinterested in Aemon.

Aemon always talks about how you two should have a son... his grip on your waist tight.

You never say anything, accepting that you belong to Aemon, that you've been claimed by a dragon.

A beast.

I have a feeling even when Aemon dies, you're still tied to Targaryens more than Baratheons.

After all, you have a daughter to look after.

A daughter who loves you very much...

She's all you have now... and deep down... maybe you accept that.

[nonbinary-vents]

I know this is such a doomer kind of attitude but I genuinely cannot stand it when people go around talking about the ‘silent majority’ when it comes to Jew hatred. There’s two main problems I have with this statement

— Sure, these people might support Jews now, but it’s probably safe to say the majority of people in the world have deeply ingrained biases against Jews. Those biases are easily exploited, easily brought out, and easily radicalised into rabid hatred. See: large swaths of leftist spaces, who honestly seemed like sleeper agents with how fast they openly admitted raping Jews is a moral thing. There’s also the issue of a lot of these silent majority people not supporting Hamas or believing in the Aryan race or thinking that Jews have no culture and we’re just stealing it from everyone else, but still tolerating those ideas being held in other people— it shows that these people neither understand nor care about the gravity of these views, which then makes those precious biases much, much easier to show

and

— The entire point of the silent majority is that they are silent. Sure, they might chat with their Jewish friends about how bad things are, they might express sympathy in private, things like that. But when push comes to shove, when Jews are being actively murdered wide scale, they don’t show up. They leave us in the dirt. They watch quietly as the Gestappo drags their neighbours away. They look away politely as their Dhimmi shopkeeper is beaten in the street for walking on the wrong side of the pavement. They close their blinds when their friend is tied to the stake and burned alive

I know it’s comforting to think of this vague concept of the silent majority, but it’s not actually reality. I know it sucks feeling like you need to have your guard up all the time (and you don’t, just be careful), it’s going to suck a whole lot more if you put yourself into a false sense of security. The silent majority are not our friends. The silent majority are not there for us. The silent majority don’t care. We can’t just live in a nebulous idea of people who quietly tut to themselves whenever they see someone saying ‘glory to the resistance’ or ‘Jews are trying to taint the Aryan race’, we need to focus on the tangible reality, and the people who are actually present

I think this is also why I, and so many other Jews, absolutely love non-Jewish allies. There’s something so indescribably amazing to see people in this world that’s been so horrible to us standing up for us, listening to us, helping us. Allies go through a lot of shit from others because they care about us, I’ve seen it so much— they’ll get vicious hate for just associating with Jews. And they still do it. They still stick with us. Because they care, and it’s just so wonderful

Spread the love to non-Jewish allies, you are so amazing. And to the silent majority, I hope you can become the help that we desperately need

[whumpitisthen]

Whumper who is part of the team 💞

I left a bit of a tag dump on a largely unrelated post about how much I adore Whumper who is part of the good guy team, and I have decided to make a post about it as the more I think about this concept the less normal I become so here it is

Whumper is part of the team, but everyone knows to be wary of them

Although they are dangerous, scary and even sadistic at times, everyone agrees that having their power and intelligence on our side is much better than to have them be on the enemy team instead

Because of what they bring to the team — and also because everyone is a little scared of them — Whumper's faults are a little easier tolerated than other teammates', and a young Whumpee who always gets in trouble and hasn't really had the time to get to know Whumper might find this blatant favouritism a little frustrating

Whumper also doesn't have to train all the time, or be present for strategy briefings, or to even really go out on missions with the team. They are always on their own, left to do their own thing, go on special, dangerous missions and the rest of the plan the team must follow tends to center around Whumper

A rookie Whumpee may be annoyed that Whumper gets to do all that, they may become curious of what Whumper really does, or even start idolising Whumper, because they are clearly so strong and smart and trusted, they must be so cool. They probably should not do any of that.

Nobody bothers Whumper when they're in a bad mood. Nobody enters Whumper's room under any circumstances, especially not alone. Nobody shall mention "the previous Whumpee" around Whumper. If Whumper is in a strange, unsettling mood, and seems a bit too friendly and interested in you specifically, you excuse yourself and make a swift escape from the situation. Call Leader if Whumper won't leave you alone. These, and many more rules are set in stone at HQ, and Whumpee is more than a little terrified of Whumper every time they learn of another weird unspoken rule that everyone knows to follow

Whumper loves rookies, and tends to play up their mysterious, dangerous persona in front of them for fun. A disgruntled Medic bumbles something about not letting Whumper get to them, but Whumpee has been sufficiently got to already, staring at Whumper with wide eyes

For whatever reason, Whumper and Whumpee are on a solo mission together. Whumpee is intimidated by Whumper, a little scared that they will follow up on a threat or insinuation they had made before about hurting them, but what actually happens is that Whumpee gets to witness first-hand the brutal efficiency and cruelty with which Whumper works, watching as they tear through the problem effortlessly, mowing through an operation that would have taken the rest of the team a whole week and careful planning to succeed at. Whumper tells them this was just a small favour, nothing major. They finally start understanding Whumper, and why they are such an important part of the team

Whumper leaves for a while, and Whumpee's first time hearing about them is through a desperate team begging them to come back when they face an unkillable, unspeakably powerful threat that they tried and failed to stop. Whumper shows up last minute, and fixes the issue in the snap of a finger with a smile on their face, mentioning how Leader could've just told them how much they missed them and they would've come back

The absolute, horrid carnage Whumper leaves after 'fixing' the team's issue leaves the whole team speechless, suddenly reminded in a massive, unbelievable show of strength and cruelty of just how powerful Whumper truly is. Whumpee has a lot of questions about Whumper for the team after that, namely: who the hell was that?; what the hell did they just do?; and oh my god, what the fuck?

After days of missing, Whumpee is found in Whumper's room tied to a chair, evidently kept there and tortured. Whumpee is so glad to have been found, yelling about how Whumper has always been so weird and unsettling, and how they bullied them and abused them all the time, and how they can't wait for them to be gone, but Medic has to tell them with an aching heart as they fix up their countless injuries that they always knew Whumper hurt them, and that they can't do much about it. Not even Leader can get them to behave without fucking up the system they have in place, and they simply can't afford to do that to the entire rest of the team. The best Whumpee can do is avoid them, or leave the team altogether — but Whumper might go catch them again if they try.

Whenever the team fails to interrogate someone, Whumper is sent in. They are always successful. Whumpee is sent down to ask if Whumper found out what they need to know, and is horrified by the state of the prisoner. Even worse, once they hear everything they need to know, Whumper ushers them out, ready to continue the torture. Whumpee innocently asks them what for if they already know everything they need to, and Whumper pauses to grin at them and ask if they want to join and see.

For a more found family type team: Whumper joins the dinner table for the first time. Everyone falls quiet. Or alternatively: Whumper stops having dinner with them. Whumpee grows concerned and brings a plateful up to Whumper's room. They do not appreciate it as much a Whumpee thought they would. This can go in so many different directions from soft fluff to just horrible awful times

Whumper reminds Leader of how voluntary their subordinacy is by roughing them or a teammate up a bit and showing them how helpless they would be if they decided to get on Whumper's bad side

Whumper is Leader.

Whumper is Medic

Whumper is indesposable

A hostage taken from the enemy confesses to how badly Whumper hurt their own teammates all the time, and shows some very nasty scars Whumper left on them too. The team is horrified

Whumper has something to hide, so they don't let their ex teammate spill anything, killing them before they can, or shutting them up any time they try

Whumper has nothing to hide, and listens with a grin as all their past cruelty is brought forth again. As if the team that they work for wouldn't already be more than aware of all that and more. Well if they weren't, now they can add all that to the list filled with their more recent cruelties

Whumper "accidentally" hurting Whumpee all the time. Whumpee is intimidated into not saying anything about what's really going on

Whumper slowly softening up to their new wholesome team. They can eventually grow fond enough to not be a colossal asshole to them all the time. Or they could go more in the "if anyone but me dares to hurt these idiots, there will be hell to pay" direction

Whumper is a cat. They claw at kind hands for no reason, they get the zoomies and cause chaos, they need to be fed on time or they become pissy, if they fall asleep on top of someone that someone will simply have to stay deathly still and wait for them to wake up because Whumper hates being woken up and once or twice a month they bring home half alive prey they caught to show off and play with. They also purr. If i have anything to say about it

They aren't close at all with the rest of the team yet. Whumper being here is a new thing. Everyone is on edge. It is unpleasant to share a room with this fucking maniac. Their eyes find teammates who they have history with, lingering on scars, or even fresh wounds hidden under clothes that they know fully well will never fade. Their smile is knowing and spiteful

"Does it hurt still? The cut I gave you? I remember how you screamed; it must ache still. How lucky that we are on the same team now, wouldn't you agree?"

No one knows Whumper at all. They are like a ghost. They show up, they do their job, they disappear. One day, Whumper stumbles into Medic's, and wordlessly climbs onto the table. Medic fixes them up with as few words as possible, and after a long, uncomfortable stare from Whumper, agrees to never say a single word about this to anyone

Whumper is a fighter. They live for the battlefield, having a little too much fun mowing down hordes of people. This is Whumpee's first time seeing them in action, and they can't help looking away right before Whumper crushes a defenseless, already incapacitated enemy's skull under their boot

Whumper knows the team way way way too well. They did stalk them for years before they joined. They know just how to get under their skin, and it's both infuriating and terrifying

Anyone who tries to break in at the dead of night answers to Whumper. The rest of the team may not even find out about the spy who tried to infiltrate them for a couple weeks, before Whumper decides to offhandedly mention that they have a hostage in their room and they are ready to talk

Here's the unhinged tags that inspired this if anyone wants to see

Masterlist | Ko-fi

[littlelamy]

rafe x religious!reader

requests: OPEN

rafe cameron had never been one to believe in a higher power, much less one that could hold him accountable for his many decisions. the idea that someone or something could watch over him, judge him, or offer redemption seemed laughable—until he met you.

you were always at the country club, your presence impossible to ignore. your pretty dresses, paired with that delicate cross necklace that always rested against your collarbone, set you apart. something about you intrigued rafe in a way no one else ever had. you weren’t like the other girls he’d been with—you didn’t care for partying, drinking, or doing drugs—not that you judged others who did it, you just weren't interested in it.

one afternoon, as rafe leaned against the bar at the country club, his eyes locked onto you. you were talking to sarah, your smile bright and infectious. he found himself captivated, his usual confidence shaken by the unfamiliar feeling of admiration.

“dude, who is she?” rafe asked, throwing his arms around topper's neck. his eyes never left you. “she’s gorgeous.”

“that’s y/n,” topper replied, moving rafe’s arm off his shoulder. “she just moved in with her aunt. lives a block away from tannyhill. why?” topper says surprised. he wasn’t used to seeing rafe show interest in someone so wholesome, so out of his usual type.

rafe didn’t answer immediately. he just kept watching you, wondering what it was about you that made him feel this way. maybe it was your innocence, or the way you carried yourself with such grace. whatever it was, he knew he wanted to get closer to you.

after a few weeks of casual interactions, rafe found himself standing outside a church on a sunday morning. the old brick building loomed in front of him, a stark contrast to the lavish settings he was used to. he had never been the religious type, but you had mentioned in passing that you attended service every sunday, and before he knew it, he had asked if he could join you.

you had looked surprised at first, but then a soft smile had spread across your face. “i’d love that, rafe,” you say with sincerity in your voice made something stir in his chest.

now, as he followed you inside, rafe felt out of place. the atmosphere was quiet, reverent, with people gathered in the pews, their heads bowed in prayer. he wasn’t sure what to do, so he mimicked your actions, sitting beside you as the service began.

rafe had expected to feel awkward, maybe even bored, but as the sermon went on, he found himself paying attention. the pastor spoke of love, forgiveness, and redemption—concepts that rafe had never really considered. he glanced over at you, noticing how your face softened with emotion as you listened, how your eyes closed in silent prayer. there was a peace about you, a calmness that he longed to understand.

after the service, you both stepped out into the warm sunlight, the sounds of people chatting and children laughing filling the air. rafe had expected to feel relieved that it was over, but instead, he felt a strange sense of calm—a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

as you walked beside him, you glanced up, noticing the thoughtful expression on his face. “what did you think?” you asked, curious but gentle, not wanting to push him too hard.

rafe hesitated, searching for the right words. “it was…different,” he admitted. “i didn’t think i’d feel anything, but… i don’t know. it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

you smiled, understanding that this was a big step for him. “i’m glad you came. it’s not about being perfect, rafe. It’s about trying, about being open to something more.”

he stopped walking, turning to face you, his gaze intense. “you really believe in all this, don’t you?”

you nodded. “it gives me hope. and it’s not just about church or religion—it’s about believing that there’s something good out there, something worth fighting for,” you smile to yourself.

rafe looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time, he didn’t feel the need to hide behind his usual cockiness. “i’m not sure i’m good enough for that,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper.

you reached out, taking his hand in yours, the gesture simple but filled with meaning. “rafe, it’s not about being good enough. it’s about loving others. and i believe you can.”

for a moment, rafe didn’t say anything, just held your hand, feeling a warmth spread through him that he couldn’t quite explain. maybe he wasn’t there yet, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he wanted to try.

“maybe… maybe i’ll come with you again next week,” he said, the words surprising even himself. "but only if you promise me and date friday night."

you squeezed his hand, your smile brightening. “i’d like that.”

as you continued walking, your hands still intertwined, rafe realized that this wasn’t just about going to church or understanding your faith. it was about being close to you, about wanting to be someone you could be proud of. And for the first time, he started to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be.

taglist: @namelesslosers s @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[aebinspa]

beg for you

PAIRING: winter x y/n reader

SUMMARY: Winter is your trusted, yet hated, co-worker. You both work for the South Korean secret service and are known to be a match made in heaven when it comes to killing or making someone disappear. Your already precarious relationship changes when you are assigned to find, and mercilessly kill, Choi Ye-won, a North Korean spy who has settled in South Korean territory.

GENRES: angst, violence, suggestive, death, blood, bad ending!

WORD COUNT: 3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! as you can see graphic design is my passion (i tried please ignore). i don't know if i'm good at writing stories like this but i tried!! i'll make it up to you by writing next time something extremely sweet for minjeong :))

It was night. Not even a sound seemed to rise in that total silence. The only noise the human ear could have heard was your breathing and your colleague's combined. The one who broke the religious silence was your colleague who began to reload the magazine of her gun. “Winter, for the love of God, be quiet” whispering had never been easy for you and, with a colleague like that who drove you crazy every second, all you could train was patience, certainly not silence. “There is no one in this hole in the forest anyway. And what's a mission without a little action?” she replied sarcastically to you with a raised eyebrow.

You, Panther, and Winter, your colleague, had been tasked by the South Korean secret service agency to find, interrogate, and then eliminate without any mercy Choi Ye-Won, informant and daughter of one of the most important men, at a managerial level, of North Korea. The young woman had been in South Korea for a few years and could get a huge amount of information to the North, without ever being traced. For a week, however, the secret services had been breathing down her neck and seemed to have discovered one of her many secret hideouts.

“I've always said that. Kill and let kill, what’s wrong with that? We are the God who decides what is right and wrong” Winter snorted, whose code name described her perfectly. “You’re crazy. We should only kill when it’s strictly necessary. What’s so nice about knowing you’ve taken someone’s life?” even though you knew no one was around, you persisted in whispering. “That you stole his life and his last words. He will die seeing you and no one else"

You and Winter thought differently about everything – it was always a debate. Nothing ever coincided when it came to you. Life, death, and desire were concepts that took two totally different paths in your subjective vision.

“Let’s stop for today, this little princess of the North won’t be captured so easily” “Well, what are you going to do?” A spark lit up in the eyes of the young girl with whom you share this difficult job. Winter took the gun and threw it as far as she could; it ended up near the abandoned house that you were observing from behind the trees. You turned to her, speechless; Winter walked past you with a satisfied smirk and headed toward the house

“Are you dumb?” “Why?” “First you complain about my inability to understand how important it is to do everything by the rules and now, not caring, you are perched on a criminal’s bed.” You yawned loudly and invited her to sit next to you.

Winter, despite appearances, sometimes seemed to let down that insurmountable barrier. The eyes, almost always empty and dull, sometimes revealed an unusual light that would have made even the darkest place shine. It wasn’t the first time you found yourself staring at her: her blonde hair, now gathered in a high bun, and the heavy black makeup made her seem more attractive - and cold - than usual.

“Are you kidding, right?” “Can't stand me at all?” your cheeks reddened slightly. “It’s counterproductive to get attached to someone you work with, Panther. Learn some basic rules” “So if we didn’t work together, would you be able to get attached?” Holding Winter’s gaze was an impossible mission; the mission you were trying to execute was child's play in comparison. You turned away unable to continue looking at those two puddles.

An unexpected thud made you turn towards the door, both with loaded guns and two lives to protect. You both exchanged a knowing look, before hearing another thud and coming back to attention. Winter didn’t fail to make a sarcastic comment before thanking God for sending you to die or kill.

“Don’t shoot” The first thing they taught you when you were still spending your days training was to not trust anyone. Sure, you wouldn’t shoot until you were shot, but you couldn’t say the same about your partner. You turned to look at her and noticed that she didn’t have any killer instinct. “Don't shoot for any reason, Y/n”

It was the first time she called you by your name. In astonishment, the gun slipped from your hands which had turned to butter. The next second Winter was pointing the gun at you.

“What are you doing?” “I thought you would end up getting more upset when this time came. I was wrong, maybe you are more qualified than I expected” “Winter” your angry gaze for the first time was able to hold the icy one of your colleague. “Everything will be fine, just do what I say”

These were the last words you heard, then something in your mouth prevented you from rebelling, and finally, darkness.

In a hotel room with furniture of questionable taste and an air that smelled of rottenness, you opened your eyes after a few hours. Your hands and feet were tied together, your mouth was dry and your hunger was starting to eat you from the inside. The first sensation when you woke up you also hoped would be the last. You didn't know where you were, you weren't completely aware of the dangers around you, and above all you were without a gun. Even though the last drastic moments you had lived with your perhaps no longer colleague were flashing through your mind, you had a hard time rationalizing everything. Was the woman who had accompanied you for the last five years trying to send you to the other world? And then, who was the little girl who had joined Winter? In the whirlwind of emotions and resentment that was building up in you, the door of the room slowly opened, contributing to creating more agitation in your nervous system.

“Hey sweetie, didn't you get scared while you were waiting all here alone?” You wanted to scream, but you only then noticed that your mouth was covered with a dirty cloth that prevented you from making any sound. “I know, I know. Take it easy. First, let me introduce you to my assistant,” she came forward timidly, in front of the bed where you had been placed, the girl who had stunned you, “She’s Choi Ye-won. Or at least, it’s Choi Ye-won on the passport that brought her here.”

Your head hurts. It felt like someone had landed countless blows on your head - maybe that's what happened. All the words that came out of Winter’s mouth came to you distorted. You wanted to answer her, but everything you thought couldn’t take shape.

“Y/n” Just saying your name for the second time, you started to thrash furiously on the bed, so much so that you scared the little girl who hid behind Winter. “Calm down, let me at least get this stuff off your face…” the blond-haired girl approached with huge strides as if to make you understand that it wouldn't be a problem for her to handle you and your outbursts.

As soon as Winter pulled the fabric out of your mouth, you instinctively grabbed her right arm and bit it so hard it made her in agony.

You tried to take your first steps after the impetuous action you had done, but you immediately realized that your legs could not move. Immediately after, cold as death, a gun was pointed at your temple.

“Let's calm down so no one gets hurt, what do you say?” “I won't play your game much longer, Winter.” “You'll be the one to say the famous last words, Y/n.”

Winter was in front of you, sitting on a wicker chair that screamed to the world that it had been clandestinely manufactured. The little girl, now sitting on the bed where you had been, was looking at you with a grim look.

“Ask me what you want.” Winter had no intention of letting you breathe: every word was accompanied by a lethal look and a gun pointed at you. Her ways were familiar to you but feeling the effect on your skin was something else entirely. “Who are you?” Winter looked at the little girl on the bed and then rested it on you. “Are you already ready to die?” “Answer me so I can die without regrets.”

Winter stood up from the chair and came closer, then sat on your lap and put her arms around your neck. This time the gun went to place behind your head. “What’s going through your head is probably right, Y/n” “Stop calling me that. I’m still in a work context” A disturbing giggle left the blonde’s lips. “I always told you: perfection will kill you”

This time Winter ran a finger over your lower lip and then over your upper lip. He gingerly approached your lips, kissed you, and then bit you so hard it made you bleed. The drop of blood hit your neck until it reached the hollow of your breast. Winter looked you in the eyes before smiling and lowering her head slightly; she slowly licked the trickle of blood. She met your eyes once more and licked her lips before speaking.

“I’m Choi Ye-won” A simple answer was enough to send you into a state of confusion. All the certainties, everything you had shared in the last five years flashed before your eyes: when was the truth falsehood and falsehood truth? “Prove it to me” Winter snorted loudly. “That’s my younger sister, she was brought to South Korea a few months ago and now everyone is convinced that she’s Choi Ye-won. They thought they had found the right person,” another stupid, irritating laugh came out of her mouth “But the right person is me and I’ve always been here. Next to you, next to the secret services, and close – maybe too close for your tastes – to South Korea”

“Why?” “Explain yourself better, Y/n” “What does all this mean?” Winter dropped the gun and, with her free hands, began to stroke your hair. “Unfortunately in all of South Korea, the agents chosen to carry out this mission were the two of us. The prey and the hunter. You understand that one of us had to disappear, one way or another”

The cold coming in from the large window of the room had numbed your body. You were unable to move. “So you're going to kill me?” “I'm not going to let you live”

Still sitting on your lap, Winter moved the gun from behind your head to your heart with a coldness that seemed forced even for her. “I know very well that after telling you everything you won’t let me escape to my country with my sister. I can’t stay here anymore. Winter only exists on South Korean soil and in your heart” “Winter is you” “No, I am Yewon. You're Y/n. I don't need to know anything else to make my own decisions."

A staring contest as painful as yours had never been seen, and yet you should have been two of the most feared women in Korea. Cold hands, throbbing hearts, and blood were all that remained of you. This time it was you who approached the blonde to kiss her and, Winter, without being told twice, returned a kiss that was anything but sweet: blood and saliva mixed, your wound continued to bleed and Winter couldn't help but be violent even in a moment that should have meant something else entirely.

“When?” “When I’m ready” “And when will you be ready?” Winter stood up from your lap and immediately the cold air hit you mercilessly. “I have to save my sister. I’m sorry, in another life maybe it would have gone differently” “It’s not your fault. After all, you always told me that it’s counterproductive to make friends at work” Winter laughed loudly at the word “friends” and then left the room with her sister. They both wished you goodnight. That day you abandoned the idea of ​​sleeping and kept your eyes open for fear that someone would kill you without giving you the chance to see her one last time.

The next morning Winter seemed intent on carrying out the final act. She was gripping the gun with all her strength and, as she paid the bill, her hand was shaking. The two sisters had planned to leave that day. They had taken a suitcase and filled it with any junk that might pass them off as respectable people. Watching them get ready so hastily confirmed to you that the two were desperate and couldn’t wait to leave and get protection. Are you willing to leave everything behind, Winter?

You walked side by side. Winter held the fully loaded gun behind your back. The two had revealed to you that a North Korean collaborator would come to pick them up and take them safe and sound, after a nice trip around the Sea of ​​Japan, back to their homeland.

“How old is your sister?” you asked, bored by the situation you found yourself in. “Sixteen” “Um. It must be fun for you to put a minor in danger.” “I have never killed or let people get killed who had nothing to do with the shady dealings their guardians were involved in.” “Your work ethic is sometimes worse than mine.” “Um?” Winter turned to look at you, shocked to hear such a serene tone.

You stopped, noticing how the boat that was waiting for the two young girls was a wreck in all its parts. “I see that North Korea treats you well” “There is no reason to expect more than salvation”

In Winter’s eyes, you see a new form of anger, rejection, and renunciation. The blonde touched the trigger of the gun and pointed it at you. “Y/n, I know it may seem terrible as an ending, but at least I will be the one to kill you. Your companion, your beloved and, soon, the incarnation of death” “Uhm” “Your last words?”

Looking into Winter’s eyes was a great way to distract her, and the five years you had spent together had proven that. You smiled cheekily, not losing eye contact with the blonde. “Maybe you really do have a heart too”

A second later a scream broke the unhealthy atmosphere between you and your colleague. Winter quickly turned in fury towards the scream uttered by her sister, who now found herself in the arms of the man who was supposed to take them to North Korea. “Leave my sister, you fucking idiot!” Oh, how satisfying it was to see a cold and calculating woman lose all her composure in an instant.

The man had a gun pointed at his younger sister’s temple. “Winter” In response, the girl turned violently towards you, pointing the gun straight at your forehead. This time it was you who had an annoying smirk on your face.

“That man works for the Secret Service, he’s a colleague of ours. There’s an entire squadron nearby ready to intervene at the first gunshot” Winter was shaking. “I'm about to offer you an advantageous deal” “Speak, you ugly bitch” “Leave the gun” "Never"

Winter had perhaps forgotten that in martial arts you had been at the top of your class for years. With a quick gesture, you threw the blonde’s gun as far away as possible. Now it was you who had the gun pointed at the young North Korean girl's forehead. Winter started laughing. “When did you realize that?” “When we were in that shitty little house and you came out with sentences I’d never heard before. Killing is your life, saying you didn’t want to do it was a pretty strong warning signal, don’t you think?”

“What do you want, Y/n?” “Your life.” Winter didn’t look scared at all. “And what do I gain from it?” “Your sister will live. I will personally send her back to Korea and cover up any clues or traces that could lead her back to you.” “Was I her doom?” “You can be her salvation.”

Winter turned to her sister and told her to cover her eyes and ears. “I trust you, Y/n.” “Me too. I know I wouldn’t screw up. Work is work and…” “Death is death. Don’t make it long and kill me.”

You pulled the trigger. You looked into Winter’s eyes one last time. The blonde seemed to feel the same. She was shaking, but nothing could stop you from completing the mission. “Thank you for everything, Winter. We’ll complete the mission together this time too” “Spare me this bullshit”

A gust of wind ruffled both of their hair, Winter’s sister let out another scream and started to cry. Tears were streaming down her face.

“Winter, your last words?” The girl smiled like you’d never seen her do. She chained her black pools in your eyes and whispered the next words. “Y/n, I loved y-”

You didn’t let her finish. One blow and the girl’s body was lying helpless on the ground. The pool of blood that formed beneath her seemed to be a representation of the blood she had taken from everyone she had killed over the past few years. She had been a liar, a murderer, the top of her class, and also the love of your life. You turned and signaled to your colleague to leave in the boat, which silently went away along with the tears of a younger sister left alone.

In the months that followed, the secret service agency named you and Winter the best agents they had ever had. Your names were now both imprinted on the golden walls of the department waiting room. No one ever knew that Winter was Choi Ye-Won; everyone cried her name believing that she had been killed by the North Korean whose body and traces you had then eliminated. Winter's sister remained safe in North Korea.

In your memories Winter was never Choi Ye-Won, but always and only Winter. Like the cold earth that now enveloped her body. In the future you asked your colleagues, when your time came, to bury you next to your beloved, yet hated, colleague. Choi Ye-Won was born and died as Winter in your heart.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

try again -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: after a fight in the Night Court, Y/n seek refuge in the Spring Court where she finds a old lover again.

warnings: ofc none

w/c: 5k

enjoy🎀

"Are you telling me you want Feyre to destroy an entire Court-of allies against Hybern, dammit-just because of a love affair gone wrong?"

Right now you don't care much about the consequences your words will cause you, and you certainly don't care that you are raising your voice to the High Lord of the Court of Night. Rhysand merely stares at you with glacial violet eyes, his stern face painted with total indifference. Here is the one you hate: not your friend, but the High Lord. The one who reserves glances of superiority for you and makes you feel stupid every time you open your mouth. But it is not he who answers you, but rather Cassian, always the first to put Rhysand before everyone, before even himself.

"Speak more respectfully to your High Lady." You cannot stop your face from contorting into a grin. The concept of High Lady was invented by Rhysand and has no real value, you think, now they're going to resent Tamlin for that too? Besides the fact that Feyre has no political experience, hell, she wasn't even a Fae until recently, how do they expect her to lead a Court?

Mor, as usual interested in putting straw on the fire, speaks in a honeyed voice, "Are you still pining for Tamlin, Y/n? We thought that time was over." You feel your cheeks go flaming with anger. You want to respond, but Azriel, always the pacifist in the countless confrontations you've had with your friends, gets in the way. The blonde doesn't seem to relent even when the winged male tells her to stop, and your face shifts to Rhysand, who sits in his study chair settling more comfortably on the backrest, enjoying the show. There's no point in arguing, you think. You roll your eyes, and under everyone's gaze but without saying a word, you leave the room.

You love your family, but sometimes they really seem dumber than a goat. You are not a High Lady, no, and certainly your job does not include ruling a Court, but you know perfectly well too that whatever Feyre is doing is wrong. But you don't blame her: Rhysand can be persuasive, and probably the destruction of the Spring Court was more his idea than the Feyre's, he's still attached to events that happened five centuries ago.

You just don't understand, given the delicate period Prythian is going through, why tear down an entire Court. One more ally against Hybern. And above all, mixing politics and personal conflicts? Never a good idea. Not to mention Mor, and Rhysand's attitude. And... everything. You are tired, and with a sigh you walk out of the huge building and down the main street of Velaris, taking more time to think. Normally you would have winnoved in your apartment on the edge of town, but you feel the need to blow off some steam.

Too bad your little walk doesn't help, in fact. Seeing people so carefree and naive makes you see red, because they have that chance, and the rest of the Night Court doesn't. You've always tried to push the issue, trying to get as many women and children into Velaris as possible, but Rhysand has always been very firm about the rules. Slowly you realize that maybe they are not friends, or even family, as you allowed yourself to call them years ago. You don't share their choices, their ways, their governance. You don't share any thoughts. But you are stuck. Where could you possibly go?

You arrive home and the first thing you do is undress and prepare a hot bath. Once you are done, with only a towel you head into the small kitchen, determined to make yourself some tea and take a tonic to sleep, exhausted from this day.

At your table you find Azriel. That's right, you had forgotten that you now share an apartment with him. You greet him by calling his name, and he looks at you curiously, almost worriedly.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and you're not quite sure how to answer. Normally you are not so unhappy, but today's fight hit you hard. It has opened your eyes. Feyre, here for so little, is already more important than you. Not to mention how they make you feel inadequate and stupid, as if your opinion doesn't count for anything. You don't respond, not trusting your voice, and simply shrug. Azriel gets up and takes the tea-making supplies from your hands.

"I'll do it." He says kindly, and you murmur a thank you, and decide to get dressed in the meantime. When you return from your room, tea is poured into a steaming mug on the table.

"Two teaspoons of sugar, just the way you like it." This brings a smile back to your face, and you begin to sip the sweet liquid careful not to burn your tongue. "You can tell me what's going on, you know."

You think about it for a while before answering, but eventually decide that you have nothing to lose. "I don't want to be here anymore." Azriel looks at you surprised.

"Do you mean... in this apartment, or...?"

"No. I want to leave the Night Court. I don't want to work for Rhysand anymore, I'm exhausted." You sigh, and tears sting your eyes. Azriel looks at you sympathetically.

"Don't you feel at home anymore?" You shake your head, and are glad you confided in him. If anyone can understand you, it is certainly Azriel. He nods, silence takes over, and the only sound is the jarring sound of a teaspoon used to stir the tea, hoping to cool it slightly.

"Maybe you should leave, then." He says simply, his tone serene. You did not expect such a reaction, but you are grateful for it. A bitter laugh shakes your shoulders. "And where?"

Azriel shrugs. "Everywhere. Anywhere you want." I suppress his words by really considering it.

"What about Rhysand?"

"I could... help you." He says finally, and his words mean so much to you right now.

"Would you really do that?" He merely nods. "I ... thank you."

Not long after, the tea now cold and the cookies you kept inside the drawer now gone, the plan is decided. You will contact an old friend at the Spring Court, and ask her for refuge.

Azriel will accompany you to the edge of the Spring Court, helping you carry your things and offering emotional support.

"Are you sure this is the right choice? Feyre..." You nip his speech in the bud with a hand gesture. You've thought long and hard about where to go. But you have no contacts besides this friend in other Courts, and despite your history with Tamlin... you can do it.

"I'll come and see you, you know."

"I hope so."

"Will I ever know what happened between you and him?"

The question leaves you speechless, your body stiffens and you freeze for a moment, but you are quick to recover. You take a deep breath before speaking again.

"We loved each other. But then... Amarantha came and..." You don't say more than that, you don't explain further, but Azriel understands and doesn't ask questions.

"So...we'll see each other, yes?"

"Sure. I'm counting on it, Az." And with a final hug, you turn and enter the Court of Spring without looking back.

The first few weeks proceed slowly, but positively. You get up in the morning when the sun is already high in the sky, a warm breeze caressing your legs as you step out onto the small balcony with hot tea warming your hands. Your friend had to leave shortly after your arrival, and she will be back in who knows how long, leaving her home all to yourself. By now you have built a routine: you wake up and sip the sweet drink, you read until lunch, you cook, and in the afternoon you take care of chores. But your favorite activity so far has definitely been going to the local market. It is so different from how you remember.... And yet so much the same. The air of fear you felt because of Amarantha has ceased, though a small trickle of it remains because of Hybern. The stalls overflow with fruits and vegetables of all kinds, colors and scents. It makes you smile with familiarity every time you pass by.

Today you woke up determined to make some treats, but you are missing some ingredients, forcing you to go to the market. You quickly slip into one of your friend's clothes, and grab a picnic basket on your way out the door smiling. There is no doubt that you are happier now.

"Hi, honey! What can I get you today?" Alyna, a delightful female with whom you have bonded a lot these past weeks, greets you cheerfully.

"Hey, Aly! Um, could you make a mix of all the fruit?" You ask quietly, and the fae is quick to give you whatever you need. You admire the way she fiddles with her hands, but at the same time she's conversing with you-she's really good at everything, you think.

"So how are you finding yourself?"

"Great, really great. I'm really happy with my choice." She smiles at you as she helps you arrange the food in the basket. "I'm glad about that. Come see me for tea once in a while!"

"Of course, how much do I owe you?"

"Oh, dear, but don't worry!" After further insistence, she allows you to leave her a couple of gold coins. Much more than she actually needs, but she deserves it.

You opt to take another tour of the stalls before heading home. One in particular catches your eye, the colorful clothes too beautiful not to be admired. You are so busy running the pink fabric under your fingertips that you hardly recognize the voice next to you. Your body seems to do so before you even realize who the male next to you is. But then it's clear as day: the crisp, rainy, earthy scent, so unique and delicious.The blond hair and the broad warrior shoulders. It hasn't changed one bit. Your whole body is stiff, but you take a deep breath. You prepared for this moment; you knew you would see him again sooner or later.

Things between you and Tamlin did not end badly, but neither did they end well. It wasn't even a relationship you had: you barely had time to get to know each other and fall in love before Amarantha yanked him away from you. You suffered a long time for something that never even happened. But you know there won't be another chance like that: Tamlin has loved, no-loves Feyre with all of himself. He has moved on. And so have you, of course. But he will forever remain a crack in your heart.

The merchant's voice brings you back to reality. "Miss, are you interested in the dress?" You look at her wide-eyed, confused.

"Excuse me?" The sound of your voice makes the male, who has remained unaware of your presence until now, turn around.

"I was asking if you were interested in the dress."

"Y/n?"

"I, um. No, thank you. Sorry for wasting your time." Your tone is confused, you feel Tamlin's gaze burning your skin as he approaches. You feel his presence all over you.

"Don't worry, dear." The merchant walks away, leaving you alone with him.

"Y/n... what are you doing here?" For the first time in fifty years you allow yourself to look into his eyes, and it's as if the world is falling apart and rebuilding at the same time.

"Tamlin..." Tears wet your eyes as you try to show strength in front of the male you loved so strongly before. And who has now lost his mind for another female.

"What are you doing here?" The anger in his face, in his voice makes you take a step back.

"I-I ran away. I didn't fit in, and an old friend offered me to stay with her here." He lets out an annoyed snort.

"Of course, they didn't send you, did they?"

"No. I--there's something you need to know, Tamlin, about Feyre. I'm not in the habit of getting involved in matters that I don't-" He doesn't even let you finish the sentence.

"Feyre and I are just fine, and I won't let your Court get in the way one more time."

"No-"

"No, Y/n. You made your choice half a century ago when you chose him over me. Now I am making my choice. You better get out of my Court, you are no longer welcome."

And so, as he came so suddenly, he goes away, leaving you standing there like a fool. You compose yourself as best as you can and set out on your way home, tears flowing freely down your cheeks in the meantime.

You didn't bake anymore. As soon as you returned, you took a hot bath and a sleeping tonic, which has now become your trusted go-to solution. You woke up a few hours later, in the middle of the night, the effect of the tonic wearing off. Thoughts invaded your head, and it was only after hours of tossing and turning in bed and the sun coming up by now that you decided to write a letter to him. You get up and grab a pen and paper, your hands trembling with excitement. You cannot let Feyre find out about this, or your whole plan will be blown. You wish you had Azriel by your side to give you advice.

Dear Tamlin,

I apologize for making such an impetuous introduction to your Court, and especially without official notice. I wanted to let you know that I no longer work for the Night Court and have left of my own free will, but I have some important things to discuss with you, and they concern the security of your Court. I hope you can understand, and I hope to see you soon so we can talk about it. In case this does not happen, I hope to get you permission to reside in your territory, and I warn you not to trust those close to you.

Best regards,

Yours, Y/n.

With a sigh you close the letter and don't even wait for the sun to fully rise: you leave the house with a light cloak to cover you from the cool breeze and take the letter to the nearest village messenger.

The reply comes sooner than expected. It is simple and informal, and you sincerely hope that everything has gone according to plan and that it is not a trap set by Feyre, or worse, Rhysand himself.

Meet me at the market this afternoon after lunch.

Tamlin.

You reread the small sheet of paper a hundred times before getting ready. A way of nostalgia invades your senses one by one, but you chase it away violently. You don't have time for this. You must help him save himself and save his own court before it is too late.

"Y/n?" Tamlin notices you first as you wait for him at the same stall as last time. You turn quickly, so fast that you lose your balance and risk falling, but the male has quick reflexes and catches you before that can happen.

"You haven't changed a bit." His wry comment lightens the air around you, but it weighs down the burden in your chest that you feel. However, you do not give it away. You are here for a very specific reason, and you don't even know how much time you have left. You cannot be distracted by events that happened years and years ago.

"Tamlin." You greet him. "I'm here to warn you." You don't reveal everything right away; you're still trying to figure out if he would be willing to believe you or not. You know it's not easy for him. His expression turns cloudy, but he invites you to continue. You send down a knot in your throat before you speak again.

"It's about Feyre. I-I know it's hard to believe, but she didn't come back to you. Rhysand appointed her as High Lady, and you let her into your territory as a spy for the Night Court. She will destroy you, you can't-. you can't-we can't afford that in a time of war." You talk so fast that you stumble over the words occasionally, not stopping to breathe even once. Tamlin is almost tempted to invite you to breathe and explain more calmly, but your words cloud his eyes with anger.

"You... you-" He cannot even find the words to tell you after such a revelation.

"No, you have to believe me. Maybe-let me show you." Your tone is almost pleading, and at this point there would be no point in denying it to you. Tamlin knows you: you may have chosen him fifty years ago, but you have never been a liar.

You show him everything you can. It's been a long time since you've entered his mind, and the feeling is so familiar that your heart tightens. You focus on what you have to show him, and you don't think about it. After what seems like hours, you get to the last fight that happened with Rhysand, and when you get out of his mind his posture is slumped, tired, exhausted. You feel sorry for him, just as Mor had said, and you feel sorry for everything he seems to be feeling right now.

"Is he really ... so much better than me?" He finally asks, and it's not what you expected. You want to hug him, to tell him that no, absolutely not, never, never could Rhysand be, but you hold back.

"No." You just say, searching his eyes with yours, but not finding them. His face is low, probably trying to hide what look like ... tears, from the people in his Court. "Tamlin..."

"No, no...it's all right. I'll send her away now, you can stay as long as you like." The answer should make you happy, but it doesn't. His tone is so pained that you yourself begin to cry. You find it very ironic, how you are crying for him but he is probably crying for another female.

He leaves without saying a word to you. Just like last time.

Months go by. The war against Hybern has been fought and you haven't seen Tamlin once again. You have not taken part in the fighting despite your training. You do not feel like seeing such death. But you know that the Spring Court did, and it was also thanks to them that Prythian won against Hybern.

Azriel has visited you a handful of times since then, and he has always been very apprehensive and kind to you. No one yet knows where you ended up, and you will never be more grateful to anyone than him for keeping quiet.

Your dear friend has also returned, and together with her you have managed to find a small apartment in the nearest village, allowing you to take more part in the social side of your life.

It feels strange to return to the market once the war is over. A feeling of peace and total relaxation fills the air and feels surreal to you. You are not used to it, but you welcome it with open arms.

"Hey, honey, how are you?" Alyna, who has become one of the closest friends you have, asks you.

"It's such a nice day today, it's better than usual, or is it not?" You say lightheartedly, a big smile makes its way onto your face. Not just because of the war, you realize. You've finally managed to build a life for yourself away from the people who were giving you misery. Only one small question mark remains in your life, and that is Tamlin, but you realize there is not much you can do about it. You wonder why you still can't get over him after all this time. Is it the same for him, too? Surely not. Surely he will feel what you are feeling now, but for another female. The thought alone is capable of hurting you, but you drive it away, focusing on the figure in front of you.

"Yes, finally the burden of war no longer hangs over Prythian, I would say. Would you like some coffee?" And how could you say no.

When you get home in front of your door you find a letter. It comes from the Court, but it is not Tamlin's handwriting. It is an invitation, you realize when you open it, you have been invited to a formal ball to celebrate the end of the war.

You are delighted, this makes you a citizen in your own right, but you are also weirded out. From the invitation it appears to be a formal ball, and although you were an emissary long ago, at the Spring Court you are nothing more than a simple peasant girl, who like everyone else gets her food from what she produces, why would you attend such an event? More importantly, will the Night Court participate?

You put the countless doubts to rest with a bath and a sleeping tonic.

The next morning, you head to the village with one goal firmly set in your mind: you need an elegant and appropriate outfit for the Spring Court. All the formal dresses you own clearly belong to the Night Court, and although they are beautiful and elegant, by the time you have tried one on you have realized that you would not be comfortable. And also, if others will be present you want to show them that you are now no longer part of their Court. That this is your home, and you are happier than ever.

You walk into an old weaver's store that you've been to a couple of times before and you've always been comfortable.

"Y/n! What a pleasure to have you here, what would you need?" The female greets you warmly as always, and you reciprocate with equal affection.

"I would need a dress for a dance. Something simple but nice." The Fae squares your figure with watchful eyes, and you can almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

"Try this on."

After a whole afternoon spent inside her cuddly little store, and no less than three delightful new dresses, you finally manage to get home. It seems almost out of place to have three such exquisite and expensive dresses in your hands in such a tiny, bare apartment, but you were unable to say no in front of such beauty, such art expressed in fabric. You go to sleep with still a broad smile on your lips, perhaps in spite of everything you would not have minded going back to the court events.

The next day you wake up and instead of your usual reading, you do household chores, since you were supposed to be in the Spring Palace in the evening.

You gather fresh eggs and feed the animals, pick various fruits from the trees, and finally take a nice refreshing bath. You spend the afternoon getting ready, and just as the sun is about to set, you transmute in front of the Palace.

The feeling that overtakes you is ... it makes your stomach clench in agitation. It has been more than fifty years since you set foot in its home, but it has not changed one bit. The gardens are immense and full of sweetly and delicately scented flowers, the hallways are filled with gold and riches on every side. A Fae you don't recognize at the entrance to the ballroom asks you for an invitation, and you cheerfully hand it to him.

You don't immediately feel comfortable when you enter, and you make your eyes roam all over the room looking for the familiar figures of the Night Court, but you meet no one. In fact, no one from other Courts seems to be present. Your eyes wander again and again, until they meet those of a tall, relaxed-faced male. Tamlin. He sips an amber liquid from a gold-decorated glass as he talks happily with Lucien. Oh, how you've missed him, too.

When he notices you, he seems to take his leave and you stare at him as he crosses the entire room to join you. Your heart beats so fast that you are sure he can hear it as he gives you a slight bow and takes your hand, laying a gentle kiss on your knuckles. He leaves you the spot where he placed his lips almost thrilling.

"Y/n, you are stunning." He says, smiling gently at you, and the way he acts confuses you a little. You don't want to be anyone's spare tire. But at the same time, it ... it's all so much the same, it's as if 50 years had never passed. You've been hoping Tamlin would compliment you, after all the effort you put into fixing your hair, face and dress, and now that he does -- you're confused.

"Thank you, Tamlin. To what do I owe your invitation?" You decide to be direct.

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk about." He moves causing you to step forward in front of him, lays a warm hand on your uncovered back, and guides you to the banquet full of treats, away from the center of the room. "Help yourself." You don't serve yourself, despite all that food being extremely tempting, but instead you wait for him to speak. He sighs. "I wanted to thank you. For your warning. If she had carried out her plan-I don't even know if this Court would have stood."

"Of course, Tamlin. From my side I wanted to ... apologize." No apology was planned, but you owe him one.

He shrugs, dismissing the question with his hand.

"That's okay, I hope now that it's all over ... we can keep in touch. If you'd like to come to these kinds of events." You don't answer, but your smile speaks for you. You don't dance together, but it's the beginning of something wonderful, something that already happened a long time ago.

After almost a month, another invitation arrives. It is a dance where the other Seasonal Courts are also invited, so it will be even more exclusive, fortunately you still have two more dresses and most importantly, there will be no Night Court.

You quiver and are even more agitated than last time, you feel like a little novice girl. You avoid drinking any more coffee in the morning, not wanting to increase your nerves even more than they already are. You again spend the whole afternoon getting ready and transmute once more in front of his palace, the honeyed scent of flowers welcoming you just as you remembered. Your heart begins to beat wildly. You enter the hall and your eyes automatically land on Tamlin. You missed him, you realize.

"Y/n! Good to see you." The blond-haired male once again makes his way to join you. "You look as lovely as ever." His eyes burn on your figure, bolder than last time. He hands you a colorful drink and you gladly accept it.

"You look lovely too, Tamlin." You sip the pink liquid in the glass, a sweet and sour taste invades your mouth. "It's delicious, what is it?" You ask charmed. The male chuckles.

"Something new from the kitchen, but I don't know what it is either." He seems to hesitate a bit, but finally speaks, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Do you want to dance?"

Your knees almost buckle. "My pleasure." You say all too quickly. He holds out a hand to you, and after placing the glasses on a nearby table, you direct me to the middle of the dance floor, all eyes on you.

You dance in silence all evening. One dance turns into two, then three, and then into a whole night. When the music ends by now there are only a few people left, you are sweaty and out of breath, but you are happy. As happy as you've ever been. Deep laughter shakes your body, finally infecting Tamlin as well.

"I haven't danced in a long time." You say once you've calmed down, almost as justification for your behavior.Tamlin merely smiles at you. You head to the banquet and he hands you a large glass of water, and you are eternally grateful. You drink it down in one gulp.

"So...see you, Y/n?" He asks you uncertainly. You nod smilingly.

Only a handful of days pass when a letter arrives. But it's not a formal invitation, no. You recognize Tamlin's handwriting and can still smell him in the air. Has he been here? You quickly return and toss the basket full of crops at the doorway, eager to open the envelope with trembling hands.

Dear Y/n,

I would have liked to tell you in person, but I couldn't find you at home. I hope it's okay to have asked your friend for your address. Be ready tonight after dinner.

Yours, Tamlin.

Your body freezes before rejoicing in laughter coming from your heart. You get right down to business: do your usual routine, bath, hair, and finally your dress. You don't wear an elegant one, but a simple, typical Spring Court dress that Alyna gave you. You do sweet braids and don't wear makeup, but use your favorite perfume. Your favorite perfume. Someone knocks on the door at dusk, and it only takes a few moments for you to open it.

"Hey, Y/n." His eyes linger all over your body, he runs his tongue over his lips, and you can't help but stare.

"Hi." You greet him simply, a shy smile on your lips and slightly rosy cheeks. It's a date, you realize.

"Thank you for accepting."

"Did I have a choice?" He chuckles, then shakes his head.

"Of course you did. But I wanted to take you somewhere." He smiles at you. He holds out his hand and you grasp it, one moment you are in the doorway of your apartment, the next you are on a meadow covered with pale flowers and a cool stream. You look around in wonder. You had missed these places, so much that you didn't even realize it.

"It's... it's gorgeous." You comment in amazement. He nods, the stars reflected in his eyes giving him a poetic air. You would like to touch him now more than ever.

"I would have liked to have had more time, with you." He says after what seems like an eternity spent staring at you and nothing else. You nod, step forward, and he does the same. The warm breeze ruffles your hair, and you make to raise a hand and fix it, but he is quicker and moves a strand behind your ear. Just as he did one night long ago, and countless other times.

"Tamlin..." He shushes you with a kiss. It is sudden and leaves you breathless. It takes you a couple of seconds to recover and reciprocate with as much passion, as much feeling. You both pull away reluctantly, your breath heavy and your cheeks flushed. You can feel her heart beating incessantly, in the same rhythm as yours.

"I've been wanting to do this ever since I saw you again." He says and makes you chuckle, because it was exactly the same for you. "I've missed you."

"I missed you, too. So much." You answer and kiss him again. And again, again, again.

You have been denied for fifty years and now you don't have enough, you want to take back the time you lost. You must eventually break away one more time, making you moan in frustration.

"Let's try again." He says with his lips still resting on yours, your breaths mingling together.

"Let's try again."

[narcissistshandler]

not wanting to pressure you but I need your posts to breathe and with that said I would love to read about virgin!daniel/park hyungsuk experiencing intimacy and sex for the first time (hcs maybe?) and add x male reader please, love you!

𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗚𝗜𝗡!𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗘𝗟 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦

pairing. park daniel/hyungsuk/hyungseok x m!reader

warnings. virgin daniel, blowjob, masturbation, mutual masturbation, thigh riding, amab!reader, exploring sex, anal sex, fingering, a lot of firsts, bottom!daniel... pure smut

a/n. please then breathe again. with this request we begin the 2024 posts! sorry for the delay. all requests received were accepted, with the exception of those asking for a f!reader (sorry) and as usual, this is unedited.

⠀࣭⋆ If you were interested in his original body and not the second one, then it will take Daniel a long time to even notice and even longer to believe that you genuinely like him. Why? he asks, more than once, without understanding what you could possibly like or find attractive about him, in this body that had always been the target of hatred and humiliation. Even when Daniel currently loses weight and has a change in appearance, this does not change the brutality of his concept of himself.

⠀࣭⋆ He has never been in a relationship before and has never allowed himself to dream about one, so when you get into a relationship everything is new to him, going on dates, holding hands, kissing and of course, having sex.

⠀࣭⋆ Daniel seems to be one of those people who has a very objective notion of sex and little of the complexity and intimacy that can come with the act. I don't think he has any sexual knowledge beyond the biological part taught in schools (I think he knows what is porn, but has never been interested in), so a new world opens up to him and each new discovery will leave him surprised.

⠀࣭⋆ He will be excited by the range of opportunities and curiosity will always get the best of him. He will trust you to guide him, even when he may feel a little overwhelmed by all these new things, wanting so much to please you, Daniel knows how to say what he likes and ask about what he's curious about. Therefore, he will occasionally ask his friends what he shouldn't.

⠀࣭⋆ I feel like he definitely doesn't have a sense of self-preservation and you should educate him about the boundaries in your relationship that should just be between the two of you if you're more reserved or he might definitely comment obliviously about how sweet you are to him in bed or ask Zack if he knew if the first time anal hurt a lot (to his complete shock and disgust).

(Daniel will easily follow and believe what you say since he don't have any experience with relationships, so please don't use his trust to take advantage of him or hurt him in any way.)

⠀࣭⋆ Going back to the first few times, he will be a clumsy and shy kisser and kisses will become his favorite thing to do with you. Daniel melts when your mouth meets his, no matter how much time passes and how many times you do it.

⠀࣭⋆ He is hesitant, but he will try to learn from you, repeating every movement of your mouth and tongue and the night after your first kiss, his face flushed with memory and hidden under the covers as if someone could see him, Daniel's search history will be filled with 'how to kiss', 'how to be a good kisser', 'how to know if they liked my kiss', 'what is french kiss?' etc etc.

(As soon as you get into a serious relationship and Daniel realizes what it means, he's immediately wanting to know everything from what gifts might you like, how to discover your 'love language' to how two men can have sex. After he asked these questions to his friends, Jace advised him to just search on the internet.)

⠀࣭⋆ Daniel wants all types of kisses and as many kisses as possible. Forehead kisses, eskimo kisses, cheek kisses, pecks, the list is long. He loves the intimacy and genuineness of each of them.

⠀࣭⋆ He also cums immediately the first time you slide your knee between his legs during a makeout session and won't last long after that, learning that he actually really likes it when you make him ride your thighs.

⠀࣭⋆ Mutual masturbation is one of Daniel's favorite things. He likes to see your face when he feels pleasure and he likes to learn how to make you feel good (despite seeming to be completely out of this plan, Daniel is actually paying a lot of attention to how you touch the two of you). Plus there's nothing hotter than when you grab his dick and yours together and bring them to orgasm together, the semen mixing in your hand afterwards.

⠀࣭⋆ Daniel likes any position where he can see your face and that's what brings him to orgasm most of the time, seeing the excitement and desire in your eyes as he comes apart beneath you with the slightest touch. Never forget to kiss him during this, oh! he could die content like this, your tongue in his mouth and the erection in your pants rubbing deliciously against his.

⠀࣭⋆ Pleasure is always too much for him, so things like overstimulation will only harm him while he gets used to sexual stimulation. He'll think you might be trying to kill him if you try to reach for his cock again after an orgasm or rub your fingers against his entrance when the powerful orgasm forces him to curl into a ball. Afterwards, the two of you can learn exactly his limits, but at the beginning of your relationship don't pressure him too much with fetishes.

⠀࣭⋆ Touching him over his pants is enough to bring heat to his face and make him stutter. Daniel then discovers how good the heat of your mouth feels, he comes quickly, sweating and shaking so much that it takes a good long minutes before he can stand again. Sweet as he is, he'll thank you right away, as if he thinks you're doing some kind of favor by touching him and giving him pleasure. He also reassures you with promises to learn how to make you feel good too.

⠀࣭⋆ He loves your mouth. In his mouth. In his skin. On his nipples or around his dick. When you ask him what he wants, most of the time Daniel will merely respond with 'your mouth ' and it's up to you to decide exactly what to do with it.

⠀࣭⋆ He's on the quiet side and won't make many sounds other than whimpers and low grunts, whenever necessary struggling to form words under the sensation of alien pleasure that makes his mind spin.

⠀࣭⋆ Always praise him and tell him how much you love him and take good care of him after each session, his mind can go hazy after an orgasm.

⠀࣭⋆ In your relationship, the word 'rush' doesn't exist and Daniel is calm knowing that the goal of everything is to get to know each other, be more intimate and make each other feel good, there is no finish line. Even though all of Daniel's first times are special, make your first time making love with him even more so. If you can, prepare the environment in detail, light some candles perhaps and take your time to make him relaxed enough to stop talking so much. If you can't, that's okay too, sometimes it's better when things happen naturally.

⠀࣭⋆ Either way, make sure this night is special. Touch it with more reverence than usual. Say compliments to him, call him 'beautiful', 'adorable', 'breathtaking', 'mine', everything else you can think of and watch as he melts under the loving appreciation.

⠀࣭⋆ Build a trail of kisses from his closed eyelids to his ankles, avoiding, but just for now, where he most wants to be touched. Daniel will make the most beautiful sound when the first finger pushes through the ring of muscles, sinking in despite the resistance. Let him breathe, run your hands over his tense thighs and watch as he clenches beautifully around the intrusion. Take your time, rub his sensitive nipples with your thumbs and pinch them, this will make him relax enough for the next fingers and when your cock is finally inside him, 'splitting him in half' as Daniel whimpers, don't think about anything else but make this first time unforgettable for him.

The movie had long been forgotten. Daniel blamed you for continuing to touch him, hand on his thighs, squeezing, moving up and down, even though his attention was on the movie, he was very hyper-aware of your touch. It was your fault that now you were crammed together on your couch, kissing and rubbing and his body was so hot that he thought it was possible he had a fever; a shudder ran through his entire body every time your tongue traveled too deep into his mouth, seeming never get enough of his taste.

“I-I also want to make you feel good,” said Daniel and when a little confused you asked him to phrase it better, his answer almost led you to ruin him right there, “I want to... suck you... can I?”

You couldn't deny even if you wanted those hopeful eyes staring back at you. But when Daniel got down on his knees in front of you and started pulling your cock out of the pants, the filthiest thoughts flooded your mind and it took everything you had not to fuck his tight throat as he took you in his mouth, inexperienced and eager to please, occasionally stopping to ask if you were feeling good.

Daniel trembled every time the head of your cock rubbed against the roof of his mouth and made the low choking sound every time it came too close to his throat. You always knew about how sensitive the inside of his mouth was, it was hot as he flinched when your tongue explored his mouth, but this, this was even hotter.

His eyes opened and closed several times — he seemed to close them to focus more on what he was doing and then open them to make sure you were enjoying the way he was licking your member. This made you want to fuck his face until Daniel cried. Fuck, he was killing you with those little whimpers and moans. 'Is this good?', 'am I doing well?', 'do you like this?', 'am I doing this right?', 'I like it when you do it like this, I think you like it too'. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

During these torturous slow, delicious minutes, it takes all your self-control to remain seated on the couch, hips still and hands at your sides, not putting your hands on him because you didn't think you could stop yourself if you did.

But if you're not able to contain yourself and sink your cock down his throat, don't worry too much. Daniel just wants you to feel good and your lack of control will only make him hot and horny, eager to get down on his knees for you again and again, since now he knows exactly how to 'make you feel good'.