#yes I have giffed this before but consider: it has been years and my coloring skills hath improved

[basilone]

[lya-dustin]

All is bliss

Chapter 21

Cw: mentions of racism, colorism, fainting

Taglist: @mercedesdecorazon @darylandbethfanforever9 @aemondx @sweethoneyblossom1 @ewanmitchellcrumbs @watercolorskyy

Gif by @elegantsplendour

Aemma has been queen for exactly three and ten days when Borros Baratheon sends a letter demanding she come in person to argue her case before him.

She goes, but she does not go alone.

Baela comes with her and Joffrey Arryn, heir to Jeyne Arryn and current Knight of the Bloody Gate, comes with gifts to shower Cassandra or any of her sisters into marriage.

He had been sent to court only to escape when everyone had been looking for Aegon the morning of his coronation.

His pale blonde hair and smiling blue eyes captivated many a maid. And now that Cousin Jeyne had named him her heir, the promise of the Vale made him almost as popular as a prince.

Aemond had been promised to Cassandra on the off-chance Lady Elenda failed to give Borros the Brute his precious son.

Son that may be red-haired like twenty-year-old Steffon Connington.

It always surprises Aemma how different people are under the shiny well-crafted surface they display.

“If Cassie says no, I can always go for Maris, or wait until Floris grows into her majority. Have you considered little Ellyn for my namesake?” Joffrey chatters when he is nervous, plays with his rings like mother and sneezes like her too.

The rain had him sneezing often, if he doesn’t get warm and change out of his wet clothes he will have a cold and be unbearable tomorrow.

Mother was always fussing about him when he came to visit, said he would have been the same age as Baelon had he lived.

Besides Jeyne, Joffrey was the only Arryn willing to speak to her after Jace was born.

If Aemma wasn’t on a mission, she’d cry ugly tears.

“Joff is betrothed to Rhea, as part of Lord Royce’s apology for accusing my dad of his sister’s murder.” Baela said pulling her hood closer to keep the rain from her hair.

“Did he?” Joffrey asked and both girls shook their heads.

“Yes, because everyone would completely miss a big red flying wyrm going to Runestone from the Stepstones.” Baela answered sarcastically.

Really, Daemon may be an arshole, but he did not kill Rhea Royce.

The rumors are laughably wild.

Some said he hired assassins to kill her, others say he himself bashed her head with a rock and robbed her corpse and not a single person believes the true story.

That being, bandits hiding in her woods who had trailed her and overpowered her by setting a trip wire she did not see.

She was a formidable woman, but only one woman against gods know how many men.

Not that it stopped her from blaming her husband in those nine days she lived after.

The only thing that had exonerated Daemon was father complaining to grandmother about using a privy after him that day in his letters home.

Prince of Shit, Lord Royce had called him before begrudgingly accepting Daemon’s innocence and agreeing to let his daughter foster at the Eyrie with her groom.

Or so, he wrote in his last letter this week.

After that Daemon and Jacaerys parted ways, Daemon to the Riverlands and Jace north to seek the support of House Stark.

So far they have more supporters than the Greens.

They at least had the Crownlands and the Vale.

The Greens didn’t even have the Reach.

House Tyrell was ruled by its Lady and using every insult House Hightower had hurled at her for not marrying her late husband’s goodbrother, she had claimed neutrality.

This had led to much infighting and many lords following her example, seeing Unwin Peake be named General despite his unsavory practices.

House Hightower only had the Lannisters and the Baratheons as long as Aemond weds Cassandra.

If Aemma were to offer better grooms for all Four Storms, she’d win the Storm Lands to her side.

They have yet to be offered bread and salt when Vhagar roars upon arrival.

“What happens if we don’t succeed, cousin?” Joffrey asks in a terrified whisper.

There was an ornate chest filled to the brim with coin and another three filled with weapons of the Lord Paramount said no.

“We bribe the Vulture King.” Aemma answers.

He would be lying if he said the sight of Silverwing hadn’t made him nervous.

He was told Lucerys was to be sent in her stead.

Aemond pretends he is not affected by the sight of her in the black riding habit she had gotten to match her mother’s.

She wears no crown, it would be too impractical, but she wears a black ribbon threaded into the braid crown.

Black for mourning.

Black for their cause.

It would have been obvious for Baratheon to side with his kinswoman, but Borros is a man of tradition.

Wants a son so badly he had tried to set aside his wife for a younger woman until in a last-ditch effort ---after the High Septon ordered he bed her every odd night for a moon--- she became with child.

To have a wife defy her husband and wage war against him instead of submitting was scandalous.

Made Aegon look weak, encouraged women to defy order and trapped Aemond in the middle because he is his brother’s heir and Aemma’s one true love.

There are no insults as he had planned, he could never insult her, not if he wants to lose her for good.

“This ought to be good.” The prince said under his breath as the bread and salt is brought forth.

“I would have believed my husband to be man enough to come here, Lord Borros. But then again, he was never expected to be more than his grandsire’s puppet.” Aemma said not bothering to look like the innocent maiden she was before her wedding.

“He comes with a marriage to his heir, what do you bring me, girl?” Borros is drunk on strong whiskey and the power he has gained through this charade.

“A marriage as well, but not for my unborn children, nor my brothers who are too young for my cousins.

I offer you something better than a second son.” Her words sting, but he knows she does not really mean them. “Allow me to present my cousin, Lord Joffrey Arryn, Knight of the Gate and heir to Lady Jeyne Arryn, as a potential groom for our dear Cassandra or any daughter of your choosing.”

Aemond does not hear a damn word said by his much wealthier rival.

His mind is focused on the surety she said the word unborn children.

Did he hear her correctly?

Was she truly pregnant, or did she lie to get Borros to change his mind about the impending marriage?

Fuck.

To find out he is to be a father the night before he marries another woman.

Fuck.

He will be a father, but not in the way it matters.

“What do you say, One-Eye? Why should I choose you?” Borros asked using that moniker he absolutely loathed.

They only called him One-Eye to say he is lesser than a true man for losing his eye.

“Perhaps we should let Lady Cassandra choose. Let Ser Joffrey press his suit and see who she finds a better husband, a knight or a prince?” He responds, wanting to get this done quickly.

The faster this is over and the faster they are shown their rooms, the sooner he can get to the bottom of this.

The wine brought to her with the leftovers from dinner is forgotten as she is dressed for bed.

She had brought clothes, a nice dress, some jewels, her crown and, thankfully, something to sleep in.

Her hair is wrapped carefully in her satin hair wrap by Baela and after being disappointed by the lack of blood in her loincloth, she resigns herself to her fate.

“Your bride is beautiful, no doubt you will forget me with ease.” She said from behind the dressing screen knowing this is the last time they will ever be like this.

“I was told Lucerys was the one coming here,” Aemond helps himself to the wine and takes no time to avoid the elephant in the room.

He wears his breeches still, but his linen shirt is untucked and unbuttoned giving her a view of his pale chest.

He has no eye patch either, he never wears it with her. sometimes he eschews his false eye completely, a testament to how close they are.

Even his mother doesn’t see him without it.

No one else does.

She wonders if Cassandra can handle seeing him without the sapphire.

She was prettier than her, a traditional beauty with pale skin, blue eyes and hair that is smooth and straight.

Aemma’s Valyrian looks are considered unconventional, some going as far as telling her or her kin that if her skin were lighter and her hair less thick she could be as beautiful as her cousin.

Borros fucking loved reminding everyone how the dragon princesses couldn’t compare to the eldest of his four storms.

“There is a trap, whether for you or me, I do not know.” Aemma admits.

It’s for her.

Why else not have Aemond know she would be here?

“Then why come here, why walk into his trap?” he questions her, still drinking the wine. She should have mentioned her grandmother had warned her about not taking any food or drink until she left.

It would be easy to end the war by delivering her to her husband and Borros does love the power he has over them.

“Because it is worth the opportunity. Borros wants to prevent Cass or the girls from taking his son’s inheritance and if he were to be presented with someone who will make sure Cassandra cannot inherit nor fight for her claim as his firstborn, he will take it.” She explained knowing that is not what he wants to hear.

He wants her to say the true reason, that she just had to see him one last time before it was all over for them.

To tell him about her unwelcome news before anyone else finds out.

But she wants him to call her out on the lie.

There is a mumbled ‘fuck’ and the sound of a wine cup and a six-foot-tall man falling to the ground.

The wine.

They had put something in the wine.

[asecretvice]

I was living my life normally and unSupernaturally until yesterday when my mother, soon turning 60, admitted a previously untold dream of visiting New England in the fall before she’s too old. Suddenly I was dropped into a Ratatouille-esque flashback with the words Summer always made Dean restless echoing in my head.

In short, do you have recommendations on where to visit? Is Maple Hills based on a real town? Before relying on influencer guides to plan, I remembered how well you conveyed the ‘vibes’ and wondering if you had any advice. Appreciate this is a very random ask, so no worries if not!

Ahahahahahaha! Sorry-not-sorry for ending your streak of living normally and unSupernaturally ^_^

Well obviously, as I'm sure is already a factor in your mother's untold dream, if you're going to New England in the fall you must see the TREES. They will call you leafers! How spectacular the colors are depends on the weather during late summer and early fall, in my experience. Also it's been several years since I've been out there, and I'm sure climate change has altered the calendar, so to speak. There are maps that indicate when they expect "peak colors" to occur in different latitudes. Those won't come out until closer to time, so keep this in mind.

As for the rest of it...yes, Maple Hills is based on a real town, but as I think it would reveal to much about my brickspace life I hope you understand why I won't say which. However, lovely small towns are dotted all over the place, so you won't be left wanting.

And ye great and terrible gods, PLEASE do not rely on influencers to plan your trip!!! Instead please accept both my regional and basic trip-planning advice.

Also, disclaimer. Although not considered New England, upstate NY is also an option [matt lucas controversial!!! dot gif]. I will therefore mention it from time to time.

STEP ONE: WHAT ARE YOUR INTERESTS?

It is important to prioritize things that appeal to you. Should you use travel to try new things? 100%. But you don't want to overextend yourself either.

Do you like...NATURE and THE OUTDOORS? Congrats, there's lots to see! From the aforementioned gorgeous woodland, to various mountain ranges, picturesque farms and vineyards, and of course the incredible coast, you're bound to find a piece of nature that speaks to you!

Just in it for the visuals? For mountains, the great Appalachians go all the way up to Maine with some subranges and ranges that might not be subranges but I'm not a geologist so bear with me. Look up vistas of the Adirondacks, the Catskills, the Greens, the Whites.

For water, look up the coasts of Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. There's also beautiful Lake Champlain shared between New York, Vermont, and Quebec.

I'll be real. You want to drive along windy hills and find a cute little dairy farm with their happy (not so) little free range dairy cows around every corner? Vermont.

The woods? Mostly the northern states: NY, VT, NH, ME. In the latter's Acadia National Park, you can take a trolley through and get immersed in its beauty...and incidentally see where incredibly rich people live deep within or near it, like Stephen King (who is of course always inspired by the area).

Want to actually get all up in it? For a region that's known for its skiing in the winter, you bet it's well known for its hiking opportunities as well. The Appalachian Trial is all over the place, but of course there are plenty of popular day hikes or expert level shit, like Maine's 100 Mile Wilderness. New Hampshire's Mount Washington--I have double-checked this--is indeed the highest peak in the region. If hiking is not your thing but you still want the views, it's a popular tourist destination that provides a train up to the top and things to do and such.

For boating, sailing, what have you, you're definitely gonna find it all up and down the coast, and Lake Champlain, and the Finger Lakes in NY, and--depending on where you're going to fly in and how far you're willing to drive--there's also Niagara Falls, though that is of course stretching the New England mandate (if you're not familiar with the area, it's basically Buffalo, NY, in the western part of the state and abutting Ontario). You can in fact take a ferry service in it called the Maid of the Mist.

As for beaches, you can find all sorts. Sand, rocky, city piers and such. Go Maine if you want fewer people around.

And don't forget that most important of coastal structures, LIGHTHOUSES. Incredibly famous and lovely lighthouses all up and down the coast! Don't neglect them!

What about animals?? Sadly I think you will be too late to go on a boat ride to see our lovely puffin friends, but of course where there's North American woods there are various birds, bears, deer, and butterflies to be seen and admired, so look up what's in the region for your animal of choice. (Seriously, Vladimir Nabokov was studying butterflies all over the place in the area.)

Do you like...FOOD AND WINE? As with every region of this glorious world, you are in for treats!

Are you all about that dairy? My friend, my friend, my friend, verily you cannot skip Vermont. Your local stores and restaurants will have the good shit, but why not go out and find a nice dairy to tour (Vermont cheddar! My kingdom for Vermont cheddar!) or treat yourself by going to the Ben & Jerry's factory in Waterbury, VT.

What about maple syrup? Vermont takes tops in my opinion for this as well, but upstate NY will also have great places you can go if you'd like to try tapping trees yourself, or see how it's made, or simply sample their delicious wares.

Don't forget about fruit! Fall season is orchard season, baby!!! Especially find those apple orchards and enjoy picking your own apples, drinking their apple cider, or eating those delicious fucking cider donuts. Man.

Like some wine? Finger Lakes region of NY is well known for its excellent quality vineyards and wineries.

What about beer? I'll be real. Boston. Boston has flavors of Sam Adams the rest of us can only dream of.

Seafood? Your coastal states again. Maine of course is well known for its lobster. The region for its clams...I'm sure there are many individual states, towns, or stretches of coast that lay claim to the best lobster rolls or clam bakes or clam chowders or how it best prepares their quahogs or other seafood...I am not a seafood person myself so I don't have a particular opinion, but those are some of the dishes to look into if you are!

What about farm fresh in general? You could probably find that most places.

Do you like...CITIES? While Boston is a must-see city, you've also got Providence and Newport RI, Burlington VT, Concord NH, and Portland ME. And yo, don't forget Montreal QC!

They all have a variety of vibes that might suit you, from fancy restaurants to university campuses to lake or ocean coastline. As with any part of New England, layers of North American/United States history abound. Boston especially, though, is expensive. But let's talk about some perks!

In Maine, your biggest city is Portland. Some quirky and local Maine color, like if you're an outdoorsy person maybe you appreciate LL Bean gear; they've got the flagship store there. But it's got great amenities and sits right on the ocean. If you want to be on the Maine coast with maybe fewer people, well, a lot of rich folks have felt the same way. If you want to see some cute towns along with eye-popping mansions, consider Kennebunkport (famous summer home area of the Bush family) or Cape Elizabeth, neither of which are too far from Portland. If you'd like to venture further north, I recommend Bar Harbor; that's the place to go to see Acadia National Park, take a boat out to puffins at certain times of year, go whale watching, a cute small town with (at the time of my having been there) less of the old money contingent.

In New Hampshire, I've mostly driven through but I have seen Concord (its capital), which had some great buildings and some good food. It was fun to walk around and not a bad place to center yourself if you're looking to take trips to various areas, from the ocean to the mountains.

In Vermont, Burlington is right on Lake Champlain, so right away you've got those great water views and activities. It's also fun to walk around Church Street Marketplace, that multi-block pedestrian area rare to find in the US. Also, it's a less than two-hour drive up to Montreal, which is one of the jewels of Canada! (Alas, I have not been myself; I have however discovered that the further north you go, the more likely you are to walk into a place and they'll casually be speaking French. Très cool.)

Connecticut I can't really speak to at all, as I've never been there, but they've got a lot of major college/university areas like Wesleyan, Trinity, and of course Yale.

I haven't been to Rhode Island either, but I hear much more tell from those who have. Providence is said to be great, and between Brown and RISD you're bound to find great museums and fun things to do. Newport is where you want to go for a seaside vacation, the type of place with a lot of history, pretty buildings, and incredible piers for the boating types. It's also an area for the old rich, like the Kennedys. Food scene's supposed to be good, too.

BOSTON. I mean...it's expensive but it's great! I loved walking along the river. But my favorite thing was walking the Freedom Trail! If you're unfamiliar, it's a path marked throughout the city that stops at historically significant places, like the site of the Boston massacre, Paul Revere's house, Old Ironsides, and some graveyards with very, very old dates (relative to the country's founding). But I won't lie, one of my favorite parts was that, walking through one of the neighborhoods it takes you through, it was the only time I heard someone speak with a true Boston accent. Utter delight. Be still, my heart!

Anyway, if you're into the things that colleges and universities can offer you, Harvard and MIT and whatnot will have you more than covered. Plenty of others in the area, like Tufts, Boston College, and so on.

Boston is also home to wonderful museums! Not only the Fine Arts Museum, but the Gardner Museum that was subject to an infamous art theft, the Museum of Science, and all the college museums, etc.

And finally, sports! If you like pro sports, Boston hosts many of the local and New England teams with their own rich histories. The Red Sox, the Patriots, the Celtics, the Bruins.

Elsewhere in Massachusetts, for your obligatory rich person hangout because it's breathtakingly gorgeous: Cape Cod, including the islands of Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard, is your area.

Do you like...TOWNS? There are so many.

Massachusetts and New England in general have a wealth of higher learning institutions, many of which are situated in towns of various sizes. In MA alone, you've got Williamstown (Williams College), Amherst (Amherst, Hampshire, UMass), South Hadley (Mount Holyoke), and Northampton (Smith). Vermont's got Middlebury (Middlebury College), Maine's got Brunswick (Bowdoin), New York has Poughkeepsie (Vassar) and Ithaca (Ithaca College and Cornell). And that's just off the top of my head!!! These places are smaller but have to host kids and their families, and they're old, so you get beautiful campuses, quirky eats, and lots of brochures telling you what entertainment is to be had. And because many of these places and some I'm sure I haven't named belong to the colonial colleges, the ivy league, or the seven sisters, they will be thrilled to tell you all about the famous people who graced their halls.

If you want to chill in the Adirondacks in upstate NY, and you want tiny towns, I have a friend who often travels to the Keene area. The pictures she sends me are exquisite. Otherwise I would maybe just find places close to where you're going to headquarter yourself for the trip.

Do you like...HISTORY and HISTORICAL FIGURES? New England! Is! North American and United States history! And more!

First, acknowledge and seek out the First Nations and their tribes. You've got a lot to choose from, such as the Wampanoag, who have their own version of the Thanksgiving story to tell. Off the top of my head, some more are Mohawk, Oneida, Mohican...not sure how far east the Iroquois Confederacy stretched.

This naturally leads into early European colonization, mostly Puritans from England and the Dutch in the early days. This will lead you to the French and Indian War, the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, and so on. I won't exhaust the list of what you can see, but if you have any interest in those periods of history, look up what battles or other places intrigue you, and figure out what is on offer in the modern day.

Past the colonial era and more into the later waves of immigration, there are old and famous enclaves of Irish, Italian, French, and Portuguese immigrants. If their cuisine or history are relevant to you, do some research (I've a friend who grew up bilingual with an old dialect of French still spoken in RI). Of more modern waves of immigration I know little.

What about specific figures? I've already mentioned a couple presidential families, but you'll also find a ton of artists and writers from New England, or who made NE their home.

Once again, off the top of my head: Washington Irving ("The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" "Rip Van Winkle"), Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Louisa May Alcott, Elizabeth Bishop, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Herman Melville, James Fenimore Cooper, Phillis Wheatley, Anne Bradstreet. Lol, those are just writers. Who else...shit, of course, all the civil rights stuff! Frederick Douglass did a lot of his work in New England; consider also the big names in women's suffrage, like Susan B Anthony. Utica is a good city to think of if you're into the conferences where activists like Douglass were active for both abolition and suffrage; it was also a stop on the Underground Railroad.

I think we've covered all the major categories of interest, so let's move on to step two.

STEP TWO: NARROW IT DOWN

I hope as you read the first section you were writing down ideas, and have since discussed them with your mother. Now you have to consider

--How much time can you take off for the trip? --How much money are you willing to spend? --How much, and how, are you willing to travel during the trip?

For example, maybe you're the type of travelers who are happy to spend one day in a place and move onto the next. Or maybe you find that exhausting, and want to stay in one small area. Or maybe you like to split the difference, pick a headquarters, and go on some day trips.

How far away from New England do you live? If you have to fly, the cheapest flights are likely going to be into a big city; in my experience even flying somewhere like Burlington will cost you a lot extra (again, depending on what airlines you have available and how close you are). The area is served well by trains. Because there are lots of towns and big cities to travel to, you can often find shuttles from the towns (especially college towns) to and from the big cities. Obviously it's the US, so cars work well.

Rank interests. If the leaves in fall rank number one, you should probably cross off the southerly states now. But consider if you also might want lakes, oceans, what type of mountains. What other outdoor activities you might like to do, etc. See if there are more historical places you're interested in connected to one town over another. Get what I mean? If you're only going to be gone for a week, I wouldn't suggest staying at more than two places if you really want to dig your toes in.

Also, between the two of you...or your mom and whomever she's going with, make sure the compromises are good. Each person should have a highly ranked item accessible to them wherever you go.

Now, it's time to get into the real research.

STEP THREE: THE REAL RESEARCH

I kid you not, the first website I go to whenever I'm going somewhere completely new is wikivoyage. If you're unfamiliar, it's the travel subsidiary of wikipedia. It's absolutely fantastic, because it gives you overviews of everything and has current and correct links to associated websites. Like if you've never been to Boston, maybe you don't know the pros and cons of getting there. It'll talk to you about how to get there by car, by plane, by train, by bus, by boat. It'll talk about the different neighborhoods, list local foods you have to try, all the museums and places of interest, etc. It will link you to the appropriate websites for public transportation, and in Boston's case, tips for riding the T. Let's be real, it also discusses areas where it's safest for tourists to be. And it does this for everywhere. Here's the link for the New England wikivoyage page.

This is an excellent first stop because it links to real resources, and gives you a good overview of any of the places you're interested in. Jump straight into that rabbit hole!

That way, if you know you have to fly in, you can look at all the main airports of the region and start working from there.

Also consider where to stay. Wikivoyage will give you an overview of that, but consider associations and things that will help you make sure you're staying at a good place. I know airbnb is the rage, but consider, if you're able, a) inns and such are subject to more laws and regulations meant to protect you and b) they can be so quaint or so grand! Peruse the Historical Hotels of America, or New England Inns and Resorts, both organizations meant to help and support such places, many of which are locally owned and operated.

Also, wikivoyage will give you overviews of the weather of where you're going and at what time of year. Consider accordingly.

STEP FOUR: ONLY PLAN 50% OF YOUR TIME

So. You've decided where you're going to stay and how you're going to get there. Now it's time to narrow down your activities.

Only plan 50% of your time. I am so serious. This will create so much less stress and conflict. Only plan half of each day. Or if there's an activity that is a full day, don't plan anything for the next day if possible. That way there's room to, you know, be late to things because life is as life does, or if something gets canceled you can try the next day, AND it leaves space for things that you won't know you'll want to do until you get there. Like maybe you've never been to the Atlantic before, and once you see it all you'll want to do is sit and stare at it. Which is LEGIT. So leave yourself time to do things like that, hey?

STEP FIVE: FIND A REAL MAP. PLEASE.

Friend, I hear you already. "But I've got gps on my phone/in my car!" Well, I don't care!!!! I know this tech has come a long way since then, but I swear to you when I was in Maine several years ago, we had to rely on my map reading skills for half the trip, on a real map. Accurate, current real maps are getting so much harder to find now, especially if you're not in the target region, but please take the time to source one. You really never know...and ALWAYS use common sense before blindly following gps. Literally have known people who drove straight into lakes in Vermont -_-

Also expect cell service to be spotty in less populated places. Again, having a real map on hand will be peace of mind.

If you are taking any driving trips, plan out your route beforehand. Look up pictures of your destination online, especially streetview, so you know what to look for. Also, popular destinations will have good directions on their own websites.

In my fic when I say there are no roadsides in much of New England? I meant it.

STEP FIVE: PACK LIGHT AND PACK RIGHT

I swear you don't need all that. You pack it, you carry it.

Again, look at the general weather, and then closer to time don't neglect the actual forecast.

If you're going hiking or out on the water, look up the typical weather patterns for that trail or coast. They're often fickle.

Leave room for new books ^_^

STEP SIX: ENJOY

The hard part's already over. Relax and have fun! And then, if you're going along anon, come back a few months hence and tell me all about it!

I hope this has been helpful. Feel free to ask whatever else.

Bon voyage!

[darling-i-read-it]

Ally

Victor Vale x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k 

Warnings: technically kidnapping ig lol 

Author’s Note: i hope you enjoy love <33 i had some fun banter with this one <3 

Requested: by anon, Hi. I saw u had a victor vale fic so will you be willing to write another? Possibly Victor Vale x FemReader. Eli is a killer at this point and is trying to kill the reader but Victor is trying to find her first. He also has a crush on her and tries to get her to come with him but she refuses so he kidnaps her for safety (not yandere just panic). Later he explains why he did so and she's fine with it. She joins the little family and he begins to love her more. Idk about the end Tysm! ily writing!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You remembered college fondly. You remembered the late nights with a bitter distaste in your mouth. You remembered the way Eli’s eyes looked when he had been studying nonstop for a week. You remembered Victor’s coffee order and test day sweatpants. You remembered the shitty dinners and you remembered the feeling of dying when it was inflicted on you by your friends. You remembered what it felt like to wake up again, like the breath inside you was so new it stung. 

You remembered the look in Victor’s eyes when he told you he had killed Angie. You remembered the last time you saw Eli before he lost whatever emotion he had. If the three of you hadn’t been drowning in the idea of a life between deaths then you wouldn’t have been stuck like you were now. You would have had a normal college experience. You would’ve been able to stay friends with the guys. 

You could’ve lost touch after college but remembered your friendship fondly, just like everyone else. 

Instead you were stuck with this torment. The powers you gained from your death were considered lethal to Eliot Cardale. Now you were stuck with trying to escape him until someone caught him. 

Victor looked across the crowded street. He was sitting down at a small round table by himself, nursing a cold cup of coffee. He recognized the color of your hair even from far away. He hadn’t seen you since the day he had been arrested. You and Eli had scampered your separate ways the second you realized of each other's intentions. Victor couldn’t blame you. 

He blamed Eli enough for the both of you. 

You were gently picking up some fruit from the local vendors. You had on a large pair of Jackie O sunglasses that you seemed to believe was hiding your identity. Victor would recognize the purse of your lips anywhere. He used to adore you in a way that a college boy could. From arms distance so he never messed things up with you. He used to think you would marry Eli one day. He never thought he would be chasing after you quite like this. 

You turned your head his way and he stood up. There was no use trying to hide it now. He stood up swiftly, sticking his hands in his coat pockets. Your eyes searched, as though you were looking for him specifically. Your eyes eventually landed on him as he made his way towards you. The surprise on your face was priceless. Your face eased into a startled expression as you held the fruit to your chest. 

But you didn’t move. You waited until he reached you. You hadn’t seen Victor in years. There were lines on his face you didn’t recognize. His hair had grown and he had a slight look of death about him. Underneath it, he remained the same Victor. You could tell by his eyes. 

“Victor Vale,” you breathed. He smiled slyly, almost a smirk. 

“In the flesh.” 

“The very pale flesh. You look like a ghost Victor.” 

“Did I spook you?”

“Frankly? Yes.” You gently put the fruit down in the basket you had found it. You removed your sunglasses, folding them up and holding them in your hands. “I would say it’s a surprise to run into you but I imagine you were looking for me.” 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“What do you want Victor?” Now that he could see your eyes, unshaded by the sunglasses, he was struck with a heartstring he had long forgotten. A feeling tingled in his fingers. Schoolboy crush. 

“Eli is looking for you,” he stated simply. 

“I’m evading him quite well I think.” 

“Not well enough. I found you.” 

“Well I’ve never hidden from you Victor.” You smiled gently and gestured to the sidewalk. He followed you as you began to stroll. He kept a step behind you, allowing you to lead the way. “You still haven’t explained what you’re here for.”

“You need to come with me.” 

“I’m alright, thank you.”

“Eli will find you and when he does, he’ll kill you.” It was a promise, not a warning. You both knew what Eli was capable of. “We’re safer together.” You shook your head a bit. 

“I hear he’s looking more aggressively for you. I don’t think I’m on his radar.” “You never left his radar. Or mine for that matter.”

“I can’t tell if that was a compliment.” 

“Don’t make me beg.” 

“I’ve always liked a man on his knees.” You glanced up at him as you walked. He had a much too serious look on his face. “Victor. You can’t just waltz into my life again and expect me to leave with you.” 

“I can.” You stopped walking. There was a silence between the two of you. “Do you remember what it feels like to have my power used on you?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” There was a tension between the two of you. It wasn’t nearly loving enough. You could feel the hostility. He needed you on his side and he was about ready to do anything to do it. 

“You can’t go to him,” he whispered. His voice was quiet in the wind of people around the two of you. It felt intimate. 

“I don’t plan to.” 

You were going to speak again when you suddenly began to feel faint. You blinked a couple of times, mouth still open as you searched to regan the muscles to use it. You stumbled forward. He grabbed you, clutching your arms. You fell asleep in his arms.

-

You woke up to a warm blanket being placed around you. Your eyes refused to open for a moment. You were engulfed in a warm blackness. It was peaceful for a few moments. Then your eyes opened and you remembered the panic you felt before you were asleep. 

You were in some sort of hotel room. There was a blonde girl at the edge of your bed that you didn’t notice and a dog at her side. Your breathing grew heavy. You had a feeling this girl had neared death, just as you had. 

“She’s awake,” the girl said. Her voice was quaint. It seemed like you were in some sort of hotel room. You gripped the blankets around you tightly as a tall man you didn’t recognize walked into the room from the adjoined one. Behind him was Victor. 

“Victor? What the fu-”

“I’m sorry. I knew you wouldn’t come with, no matter how hard I tried to convince you.” 

“I told you not to knock her out,” the little girl said. 

“Sydney, not the time.” The girl, Sydney, looked positively pleased with herself. “Can I speak to her alone?” he questioned. Sydney and the tall man slowly left the room, her dog following at her footsteps. Your breathing hadn’t evened down. You were still heaving. 

“Victor-” 

“I panicked,” he admitted. “Don’t make me say it again.” He looked slightly embarrassed which gave you more power in the situation. You pursed your lips and let go of the blanket on top of you. Your knuckles had turned white. He could tell your guard was still up and he couldn’t blame you. He had kidnapped you, for lack of a better word. 

“I can take care of myself.” 

“Maybe I can’t,” he said, snarkily. 

“You can’t just kidnap girls you had a crush on in college Victor.” 

“Who says I had a crush on you?” “Eli.”

“He’s a murderer. You can’t believe a word he says.” Despite the odds, you smiled a bit. You had missed Victor. Though you had things you had to return to, you understood why he had knocked you out. You weren’t likely to forgive that bit anytime soon but you could at least make an attempt to figure out your situation. 

“He’s looking for you. I’m in more danger here than I was out there.” 

“I can’t fight him alone. I need allies against him.” 

“Am I just an ally to you Victor Vale?’

“At the least an ally.”

“At the most?”

“Don’t make me say it.” You looked at him through your lashes. 

“Still the same Victor then.” You sat up all the way. “Who were they?”

“Runaways.”

“Friends.” He smirked. 

“You know I don’t have friends. Not since Eli.” 

“How dare I assume.” You would likely fight him about this whole ordeal when you had the strength to. For now you knew you had entered a war you had been fighting since it was conceived. It was foolish to run away from it. 

Victor gently grabbed your hand. Without even thinking, he took away what little pains you had left. Not as a kindness but as an instinct.

[wandaromanova]

can i request wandanat x r? r wants to propose to wandanat and has been sneaking around to hide her plans of proposal. wandanat thinks r is cheating and maybe leaves her? you decide but angst please and i just love all your work i can't stop re reading them💕

Ruined

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: cussing, arguing, very slight violence, cheating allegations

A/N: hi! thank you for your request! im flattered to know that you love and re read my work! i may or may not have intentionally left this on a cliffhanger whoops 🤭 <3

Ruined | Regret

Word Count: 1.8K | masterlist

(gif is not mine)

You had first met Wanda and Natasha when you were tasked with being the Avengers’ liaison. You were tasked to handpick missions that you believed required the attention of the heroes and assigned team members onto those missions.

You worked very closely with the team, you even lived with them in the compound for convenience. In the time spent working for them, you had grown super close to everyone; most especially Nat and Wanda.

It first started off with the pair going into your office, always asking for missions. You had found it odd considering they never took a break. You didn’t understand why they’d seek out missions when they were clearly exhausted. You figured that maybe they just loved helping people so much that they got excited and anxious for missions, but little did you know what their true intentions were.

They wanted to spend time with you. They wanted to observe you close up and not across a conference table. They wanted to know everything there was to know about you. As creepy as it was, they wanted to get close enough to know what you smelt like. They wanted to know what your lips tasted like. They wanted the relationship with you to surpass professionalism.

Eventually, the two Avengers stopped asking for missions when they came in; they just went to your office for the sake of going there. They’d bring you various lunches every single day and shower you with small compliments.

You’d brushed it off as the women being very good friends that just so happened to be flirts. You were wrong. They were interested in you, in the same way you were in them. You couldn’t help but admire the two beautiful women.

Their green eyes, fit bodies, and kind smiles were a recipe for disaster, in the best way possible. With one look, you’d drop to your knees and do whatever they wanted. They just had to say the word and you would do it, no hesitation. Yeah, it sounds absolutely ridiculous, but it’s painfully and embarrassingly true.

Over the course of time, you had grown closer to Wanda and Nat. Your daily lunches turned into daily movie nights and dinners too. You saw them all the time and you didn’t mind it one bit.

They finally asked you out after a year of spending time with and getting closer to you. It was safe to say, you instantly agreed with a smile on your face as you let out an, “of course! fucking finally!”

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

Now, you had been dating the two women for five years. Yeah, it’s been a long ass time, but it still wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to spend forever with Wanda and Nat.

You wanted to get an actual house in the suburbs together. Not an apartment in the middle of New York, but a place you could call home. You craved the domesticity of it all.

You wanted to settle down and have kids with them somehow; whether it be by adoption or via surrogate. You just wanted to have a family of your own with the two woman you loved more than anyone or anything in the universe.

So, you’ve been sneaking around trying to keep your secret, well… a secret. You were planning on proposing to your girlfriends. Yes, this was a very huge step in a relationship, but you felt as though it was the right time. You guys had been together for five years! You were practically married to them already!

You would sneak off suddenly during your usual movie nights with Wanda and Nat or before breakfast to go and meet with different jewelers. You didn’t want to go into a store and buy their rings. That was not an option in the slightest. They were special and deserved special rings. They needed rings that were as unique and one of a kind as they were. It’s what Wanda and Nat deserved.

So, you were constantly leaving, whether it be early in the morning or the late hours of the night, on the search for someone who could make your ideas for their rings, a reality. You would hide your phone from Wanda and Nat’s view and even changed your passcode in order to prevent them from finding out. You’d face your phone down whenever you left it in a room with the pair, as well.

Unfortunately, in your excitement of what was to come, you didn’t realize how suspicious your behavior had been. You figured that you were being pretty discreet, coming up with pretty believable excuses. You even had some of the team help you with your lies, since you let them know what you had planned.

However, you forgot you were dating a world class spy and a witch. You were wrong, obviously. As each day passed, your girlfriends worried and assumed the worst. They let their minds spiral and searched for worst case scenarios. The worst one of all seeming the most likely; infidelity. They came to the conclusion that you were cheating on them.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

Natasha and Wanda cried to one another on one of the nights you bolted off and zoomed out of the apartment with a lame excuse.

Wanda sat on the couch as Nat held her in her arms. They both had tears cascading down their faces as their thoughts were plagued by you; by your supposed betrayal.

“How? How could she do this to us? After everything we’ve been through? She’s goes and cheats on us?” Wanda spoke brokenly as she released a sob. Natasha pulled Wanda closer, the Sokovian woman placing her head in the crook of Nat’s neck.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know, Wanda. All I know is, this can’t go on any longer.” Natasha spoke, trying to keep her voice steady, but her voice failed her. She came out shaky as the sadness and hurt seeped in. You had betrayed them, or so they thought.

They sat there in the same position, waiting for your return. Finally, four hours later. You had come back to the apartment.

You were ecstatic as you made your way up to the front door. You finally found a jeweler that could make the perfect rings for Wanda and Nat! You couldn’t wait to get on one knee and present the rings to the two women who would forever hold your heart. You were over the moon excited right now.

However, your joy was quickly wiped away the second you stepped foot into the apartment. You took in the sight of Wanda and Natasha on the couch, staring at you with dried and fresh tears on their faces. You instantly shut the door and tossed your keys onto the counter as you rushed towards your girlfriends worriedly.

“Nat, Wands, what’s wrong loves?” You asked as you approached them, but Natasha abruptly stood up before you could get too close.

“Don’t you take another fucking step!” Nat snapped at you, and you stumbled backwards a little, in total shock. Your concern increased as you looked between the fuming redhead and the heartbroken looking brunette.

“Did something happen? What’s wrong?” You were so confused and desperately wanted to comfort your girlfriends. You don’t recall doing anything that could anger and upset them this much.

“Yeah, something happened. Our girlfriend is a fucking pathetic, cheating ass bitch who can’t keep it in her pants.” Natasha spoke with venom dripping from her tone. You literally let out a gasp, her words physically hurting you.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not cheating on you guys! I love you both more than you guys could even imagine!” You raised your voice, getting frustrated with the situation.

Wanda suddenly stood up and stuck beside Nat. She stared at you with anger clouding her sadness now.

“You’re not cheating on us? Then why the hell have you been running off at weird hours of the day? Why have you been hiding your phone from us?” Wanda began to fire a bunch of questions towards you.

You froze in your place. The answers to their questions weren’t what they thought they would be. The true answers were the complete opposite of cheating, you were acting weird because you were planning on proposing! But you couldn’t tell them that!

You stood silently as the two women stared at you, breathing heavily. They took your silence as confirmation of their suspicions.

“We fucking knew it. You’re a fucking joke, Y/N. Were we not enough for you? Was two women not enough for you?” Wanda inched her way towards you, eyes glowing red.

You backed away, not in fear, but in sadness. You really wished you could tell them the real reasons behind your behavior, but you couldn’t without blowing up your surprise.

“Did you really think you could go behind our backs without us noticing?” Wanda continued to stalk towards you, like she was about to murder you.

“I swear to you both, I would never, ever, cheat on you guys. You’re both more than enough for me. You’re my home, I’d never jeopardize that.” You tried to convince your girlfriends to believe you, but they weren’t having it.

“Stop lying to us!” Wanda screamed out as she sent you flying back with a scarlet colored blast as she used her powers on you. Your back connected with the front door as you groaned. That was going to be a huge bruise later, for sure.

“I’m not lying. When have I ever lied to you both, huh? Why the fuck would I start now?” You asked exasperatedly as you stood up slowly. You cringed at the pain radiating from your back.

“And here you go again, more lies coming out of your slutty mouth. The fucking nerve you have, Why don’t you go and fuck whoever you’ve been seeing and leave us alone?” Natasha spoke as she moved forward, placing her hand firmly on Wanda’s waist.

Before you even have the chance to speak, Wanda opened the door with her powers and tossed you out of the apartment. She abruptly slammed the door in your face. Wanda and Nat’s angry, pain-filled faces and scarlet colored magic being the last things you saw before the door blocked your vision with a harsh slam.

You sat on the ground in front of the door in shock. They thought you were cheating on them. They didn’t want anything do with you now. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? What did this mean for your proposal? Should you cancel on the jeweler? Or should you hold out hope and pray that they’ll hear you out eventually?

All you did know was that your proposal had been ruined regardless. Whether you told them about your plans or not, the moment was doomed the minute they began to suspect cheating.

Withholding the information from them, caused them to push you away. But now that you look at it, if you had just told them about the proposal, you’d at least be in their arms right now and not on the floor of your apartment complex hallway with tears streaming down your face.

You were at a loss, and you didn’t know if you could gain back the trust of the women you loved.

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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[spookysmujer]

‘03 Bonnie & Clyde, O.Diaz

Summary: After hearing many stories of the infamous Santo, Oscar Diaz, you have your first encounter with him at a block party.

warnings: cute s h e t 🥺

word count: 1.2K

a/n: All we need in this life of sin is Oscar’s fine ass 🥵 thank you for requesting babes!  Please consider: following my blog, heart/comment/reblog my content as well as turning on the notifs for when I post new content, much appreciated :)

requested by: @justatiredfool​

(gif belongs to @goldscoyne​ ✨)

You weren’t one to go to parties. In fact you can count on one hand how many parties you had been to since the end of high school. It’s sad but it’s who you are. You prefer the comfort of your own home along with a good book and some red wine. But after the many mentions of the party from a friend, you felt you had no choice but to say yes. 

“I am so happy you are here! Go mingle!” 

Another cup beer is placed in your hand. Your friend is gone just as soon as she appeared. You shake your head with a small smile on your lips while taking a sip of the bitter liquid. There are a bunch of familiar faces here along with some you don’t know. No harm in making new friends?

The first summer party since graduating high school a few weeks ago. It’ll be fun, you’ll drink and enjoy some good company. It’s a time to celebrate! You’re in the corner, watching guys play beer pong and girls ogling over them. Soon enough the house piles with more bodies and it feels overly clustered.

Out in the backyard, it’s nearly as packed but there is more free flowing air. You scan the crowd and see a bunch of classmates, lower classmen and the town’s up-to-no good gang, the Santos. The older group of guys have girls surrounding them. It’s pathetic to see how they are flinging themselves at them for attention that will probably only last one night. 

For a moment you watch the one they call ‘Spooky’. How is it they get their names when joining a gang? Is it given to them? Do they do something that determines it? You are so lost in trying to figure it out, you find he is staring back at you. Some of the other Santos taking notice as well. The smug looks on their faces make you step away, bumping into someone and spilling your drink all over your top. You groan and make your way to the bathroom.

The fabric of your halter top is soaked and there is no way you plan on spending the night like this. You send a quick text to your friend that you have to leave. But she doesn’t respond at all and you remember quickly that she was your ride to the party. You are standing near the street, cursing to yourself, “You’re Y/S/N’s little sister, right?” 

The voice makes you jump as you swivel on your heel to see Spooky standing behind you. You clutch your chest and look around if there is anyone else he could be talking to. Though it’s dumb to think so considering he just asked about your older sister. “Um, yeah I am. How do you know her?” He cracks a small smile.

“Went to school with her. Though she stayed behind a grade due to getting knocked up, she was a cool ass chick.” He explains and you nod, intrigued that he was never mentioned in any conversations you had with Y/S/N. “What’s your name?”

You take a second before answering, “Y/N.”

He nods, stepping away from you to light a blunt. You watch as he fires it up and takes a big hit, holding out to you as an offer. You politely decline, trying to not make things awkward but you’ve never talked with a gang member before. Or an older guy at that. Your sister is nearly 7 years older than you.

“Cool. Y/N.” You smile and look away. Something about how he is painted as this badass guy but the more you keep looking at him, his features seem so soft. And he speaks respectfully towards you. “Trying to get home. Soaked my top.” 

“I can give you a ride, party is lame and half these hynas can’t take a hint.” That makes you laugh and you ponder the offer of a ride home. And though you were always told to never jump in with strangers, you don’t feel entirely uncomfortable around him.

You look around and notice your low battery on your phone. It would die soon and you’d really be stranded not being able to call an uber or lyft. With your sister no longer living in Freeridge, parents divorced with your dad out of the picture and mom an ER nurse currently working a graveyard shift, the Santo leader is your next best option.

He waits for a response, “You sure? I mean… it won’t be bad for your reputation to be seen driving around a fresh outta high school hyna?” It’s his turn to laugh. “On the contrary.”

After sometime you nod your head and he leads his way to his ride. It's a beautiful 1963 Chevy Impala in a gleaming red color. You admire it as you approach it. He notices you looking at it with big interest, most girls exaggerated how much of a sexy car it is just to get in it and make out with him. But you are different with it and he admires that about you.

You run your hand along the hood of it. It’s nothing new to see these old school rides in California but for a place like Freeridge with all the goes down, his car is in mint condition, “You into cars?” He asks as you straighten up after leaning down to take a look at his trims. “Not really, but my dad used to always check out those car shows a couple of towns over, I remember him talking about Impalas a lot.”

“What kind of ride does he have?” You chuckle, “I wouldn’t know, he left when I was 7.” He watches as you get in through the passenger side. Turns out there are more similarities between the two of you than meets the eye.

“Are you sure you are okay with driving me home,Spooky? Aren’t your friends gonna think something?” Oscar always preferred that the ladies call him by his street name. He internally cringed hearing you call him that as he turned on the engine. “ Call me Oscar, they ain’t gonna think of nothing. I’m just giving you a ride home.” 

You look over at him and watch him for a brief moment. Truly how the saying goes that there is more beneath the surface. Your first thoughts of him were of a gangster that could never be up to no good. But turns out, he isn’t half as bad.

After giving him directions to your place, he’s pulling onto the street no longer than 15 minutes later. And within that time, you two chatted up about all kinds of things. Cars, school, even some hopes and dreams. You hadn’t noticed the time that passed by til you checked the time on his dash.

“Geez, it’s nearly 4AM. My bad.” You apologize knowing you can be quite chatty, he brushes it off, thanking you for the company you gave him. “I should get in. My mom will be home in half an hour and well, she has a mean throwing arm with range.”

Oscar laughs wholeheartedly at your comment, making you laugh as well. “Gracias por todo, Oscar. Um, there’s a car show outside of LA next week. I don’t know much about rides but I’m sure you’d like it.”

Are these butterflies? Oscar thinks as you wait for an answer, “Sounds dope. I’ll pick you. Um, should I call?” He asks you as the feeling of butterflies begins to fill your stomach. You nod and pull out your eyeliner from your purse to scribble on his arm, he looks at it then to you as you exit his car. A smile stuck on his face.

How eventful tonight has been.

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[spxllcxstxr]

Game On • J.P

(Gif not mine)

Writing Challenge: @lunalovecroft ‘s 2.7k Trope Writing Challenge! Congrats again! Everyone go check out their fantastic blog! Trope: Quidditch Rivals and Secret Dating

Summary: No one knows that rival captains, Potter and (Y/Ln), have been in a secret relationship for quite some time. Then, the Championship Game arrives.

Warnings: cursing, a small hint of steaminess (nothing big—it’s like a quick mention and that’s it), slight Wolfstar and Dorlene mention, mention of breakfast at the Great Hall, kissing, use of Ms when referring to the reader (only once), nonGryffindor!reader

Word Count: 2k

A.N: Kinda long winded but I actually like the dialogue for once??? Wow. Congrats again on 2.7k! Everyone go follow them because I get so happy seeing them on my dash ❤️ Hope you all enjoy and love you all ❤️

****

Your eyes snap open hours before they have to, your dorm still pitch black, the soft snores of your friends filling up the otherwise quiet space. The covers feel heavy and restricting on top of you, something you quickly remedy by kicking them clear off the mattress.

You swing your legs over the edge, feet meeting the cool wooden floor.

Rubbing your eyes, you glance over at the ornate clock on your nightstand. One in the morning. You sigh, your goal of getting a good night’s sleep before your important match in ruins.

Your skin crawls at the thought of the Championship Match only hours from now. The amount of blood, sweat, and tears you’ve shed in preparation for it is frankly quite concerning.

Unable to get back to sleep, you drag yourself out of bed, shoving your feet into plush slippers before slipping quietly out of your room. You’re forced to tiptoe around scattered books, most of them Quidditch related from last night.

There’s no way you’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon, the anxiety of the morning’s match coursing through your veins. The nerves were the worst part of competitive Quidditch—after all these years you still couldn’t shake them.

Absentmindedly, you think about heading to the Kitchens, the warm and comfortable environment sounding like exactly what you need.

Late night visits to the Kitchens aren’t anything new, you and James often sneak out after curfew hidden underneath his Invisibility Cloak. Sitting in the far corner behind countless shelves and barrels was a frequent date for the two of you since it offered enough privacy from the rest of the castle.

The two of you could hold hands on the table, his thumb open to draw little figure eights between your knuckles. Your eyes could light up just looking at him without the fear of being called out. His lips could capture yours in a sweet or passionate kiss and no one would know.

The real and complete reason for keeping your relationship a secret was long since forgotten, but the general idea is still shared. It’s just easier being Quidditch rivals instead of being Quidditch rivals that snogged the second feet touched the ground. Neither of you were ever accused of going easy on the other during matches, and that’s how the two of you preferred it.

Plus, there was something romantic about sneaking around the castle and through secret passage ways pressed closely underneath his cloak. Stolen kisses in empty classrooms and quick shags in broom closets were fun when they weren’t inconvenient.

In the back of your mind you have an inkling that James might be huddled up in the usual spot as well, considering he has a match as well in a few hours.

You shuffle through the common room, a few third years spread out on the couch, sleeping atop their textbooks and notes. The fire crackles and pops lowly. A shiver runs down your spine as you step out into the corridor.

“Lumos!”

A murky blue light blooms from the tip of your wand, lighting up the dark corridor.

You shuffle across the stone, the occasional laugh or snore echoing throughout.

Filch isn’t an issue at this time of night, surprisingly the old care taker does get some sort of beauty sleep, though it does him no good, so you find yourself walking normally instead of carefully creeping around.

It doesn’t take long to get to the portrait of the bowl of fruit, faint giggles coming from the pear. You extend your arm to tickle the bottom of the pear, it’s giggles erupting even louder before morphing into an intricate brass doorknob.

Stepping through the threshold you’re immediately met with a blast of heat due to the large fireplace that practically takes up the wall to your right. Even though it’s the middle of the night, plates and goblets and utensils are clanking and crashing together, the pitter patter of house-elves darting around the area isn’t surprising at this point.

“Nox.”

The blue light fades and flickering orange takes over.

A small and pale grey figure rushes up to you, jittery like they’ve just consumed a gallon of coffee. One ear droops low enough where it’s almost dragging across the floor while the other is significantly shorter.

“Ms. (Y/Ln)!” The house-elf squeaks, wringing their lavender cloth between their fingers. “Mr. Potter is waiting for you!”

“Alright, Tilly.” You smile warmly at the elf. “Thank you.”

As you make your way to your usual spot in the back of the Kitchens, you hear Tilly bound back over to the counters, joining the many other house-elves that work down here.

Behind stacks of old crates and barrels, there’s an old and decrepit picnic table, obscured from the rest of the room. Each time you and James show up you’re surprised the house-elves haven’t chucked it into the large fire yet. It’s so rickety it’s practically only good for firewood.

And being the spot for the two of you to find refuge in.

James is sitting with his back against the wall, legs outstretched across the bench just like you suspected. He’s lazily tracing a finger around the lip of his steaming mug, hazel eyes lost in thought. From your spot you can see his teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“You ok Jamie?” You ask softly, trying not to startle him out of his thoughts.

His eyes flick up to yours before he fixes his glasses and runs a hand through his bedhead.

“Knew you’d join me eventually, love.” He sends over a wink, face lighting up.

“And you didn’t think to pick me up at my common room?” You playfully scoff, slotting yourself between his legs, face pressed into his chest.

The red fabric smells suspiciously like the Quidditch shed, like he got in some late night practice.

“Oh yes, because standing out in the cold corridors outside of your common room after curfew is much better than just waiting for you in the warm Kitchens.” James’ chin rests in the top of your head, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“Blimey, chivalry really is dead.”

“Y’know, you could’ve waited outside the Gryffindor Tower for me.” James points out, chuckling at your complaint.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp. “Who has the Invisibility Cloak, again?”

“You got here just fine, didn’t you, love?” He snorts, chest rumbling.

“Whatever.” You grumble, rolling your eyes in defeat.

James sighs, rubbing your side. “You ready for the morning?”

You hum noncommittally, the thought of tomorrow’s match swirling through your mind.

“Nervous, love?” His voice is soft and delicate against your temple.

“I mean, this is my last chance, Jamie.” You mumble into his chest. “And of course it’s against you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, (Y/n)?” James asks, concern laced within his voice.

“It’s just that you’re an amazing player and I’m—“

“A spectacular player as well.” He interjects. “I’ve seen you out there practicing. You’ve built a bloody good team this year. We’re on equal footing.”

“Yeah well, I’ve never beaten you before.” You huff lightly, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So?” He questions. “That doesn’t mean anything. There’s a reason you’ve made it into the Championship match, (Y/n). Because you’re a fucking phenomenal Captain. And I’ll hex anyone that tells you otherwise.” You feel his fingers flex angrily against your waist.

“You’re so sweet.” You pick your head up slightly to face him, a pout tugging at your lips.

“Guess I should give you a good luck kiss now, considering we won’t have time in the morning.” James’ hazel eyes shine in the flickering light while looking into your own.

“Does luck even last that long?” You bring your fingers up to hover over his sharp jawline.

“Sadly, love, we’ll have to test that.” He sighs.

You bring your lips to meet his, your fatigue making it a bit sloppier than it should’ve been. He nips at your lips, pulling you closer to his chest momentarily before pulling away.

You whine slightly at the loss of warmth.

“Gotta save some of that luck for myself, love. Can’t just let you win.” He smirks, lips grazing your hairline.

The two of you end up sitting there for another hour or so, listening to the fire crackling and the house-elves rummage around. Eventually, he pulls you underneath his cloak and drops you back off at your common room, a quick peck pressed to your lips.

You manage to drift back off to sleep, dreaming of James rather than Quidditch.

When you pry your eyes open for the second time, the sun is actually filtering through your curtains and most of your dormmates are awake and shuffling around.

You tune them out the best you can, opting to go through your routine in whatever silence you can find.

Your routine is quite simple, you let your joints pop and muscles stretch, trying to shake yourself awake.

The rest of the castle seems to be alive with boisterous laughter and over the top festivities. Glancing around at the corridors and the Great Hall, you’re able to notice a pretty even split between red and gold and your own house colors.

This was going to be one hell of a rematch.

Marlene and Sirius have a crowd forming around them as they flex and throw out trash talk. You watch as Remus and Dorcas try to coax them down from the tabletop, but they seem unsuccessful.

Peter, Mary, and Lily are fawning over James, hyping him up, even you can tell from across the Hall.

But he isn’t paying attention to them, his eyes are clearly trained on you behind his round glasses.

“Already envisioning Potter’s demise?”

You tear your eyes away from him, instead focusing on your teammate.

“Oh absolutely.” You smirk, before throwing yourself into last minute charts and maneuvers.

Breakfast goes by quick, your leg never stops bouncing underneath the table and your fingers tap incessantly against your goblet.

You and your team strut down to the pitch earlier than anyone else. There’s a slight breeze rolling through the grounds, something you take into account.

It becomes a bit of a blur after you’ve changed into your uniform, the crowd begins to show up and their cheers take over your hearing.

Remus is announcing the game, which you have no idea why since it never goes well for anyone. His commentary ranges from picking on James to flirting with Sirius to just trying to get McGonagall pissed off.

Marching out to the center of the grassy pitch, broom in hand, you’re bombarded with your name being enthusiastically chanted across the entire stadium. Confidence bubbles inside of you as you face James, Madam Hooch just beside you.

“Alright everyone, I expect a nice, clean, and fair game today. This is the Championship, no one will get away with any funny business.” Her tone is clipped as her yellow eyes take in everyone. “Captains, shake hands.”

You and James take a step forward, his hand firmly grasping yours.

“Good luck, love.”

With your hands still connected, James plants his lips on your own, and you eagerly kiss back.

The crowd erupts into even louder cheers.

“Bloody hell!” You hear Remus exclaim over the loud speaker. “James and (Y/Ln) are now snogging on the pitch! You own me five bloody Galleons, Sirius Black! I told you, you—“

“Lupin!”

James takes a step back, his usual smirk painted across his face. His hazel eyes glint mischievously behind his goggles, which he takes the time to adjust like they were his own glasses.

The roar of the entire castle fills your ears after your little reveal.

It’s a little overwhelming, you have to admit, but it doesn’t deter you. You’ve spent too many hours training for this very moment to back down now.

You roll your neck, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, but pixies have already erupted in your stomach. You feel James’ stare burning into you.

“Mount your brooms.” Madam Hooch’s harsh tone cuts through the crowd, but you’re barely paying attention to her as you swing a leg over your broom handle.

The whistle pops into her mouth like usual, but in the split second before she blows with all the air in her lungs, you lock eyes with your boyfriend.

His red and gold robes billow behind him, confidence just rolling off of him. Dark and chaotic curls drift in the breeze.

He sends you a wink.

“Game on, love.”

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

For @lunalovecroft go check their blog out!

[charlies-gillespie]

a quiet wedding | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: Charlie and reader get quietly married in an intimate ceremony with only their family and closest friends

requested: no

length: shorter

rating: PG

warnings: a few emotional moments (& very fluffy), a sexual joke or two

!! MY GIF - give creds if used !!

MASTERLIST

author’s note: prompts list is coming at noon est today. i got it done earlier than friday so it’s going up today

another author’s note: “je t’aime” means “i love you” in french. “je t’adore” means “i adore you” in french

It happened so quickly. From the day you got engaged to Charlie until today took about three months. It happened quickly but you know that you want to spend the rest of your life with Charlie. You wouldn’t have said yes to his proposal if you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life with Charlie.

The fans know of your relationship with Charlie, even though you both have kept your relationship mostly out of the public eye. After a slip up or two from you both, fans caught on so you both confirmed your relationship to stop the speculation. Neither of you said anything about the engagement or about your pending wedding. You wear the engagement ring on your necklace while in public and on your finger when alone with Charlie or your friends or your family.

It’s not that you don’t want the fans to know, but you’re both 22-years-old and really young. There’s nothing wrong with getting married young but there are a lot of people with harsh opinions out there, and you’ve always been sensitive to harsh comments even though you’re an actress and singer.

So, you and Charlie decided to get married in the backyard of your childhood home, away from any prying eyes. Your parents still live there and the backyard has a beautiful view of the mountain range since your parents live very close to the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania. The house is pretty big since your parents both make good money as doctors.

You get ready in your childhood bedroom. Your bridesmaids, who consist of Savannah and your sister, both stand in lilac colored gowns as Savannah curls your hair. She puts little white flowers throughout the curls to decorate the style a bit.

Your sister works on your makeup and you try to keep yourself composed. You’re marrying the love of your life today after a three month engagement but a four year relationship. You’ve waited so long for this day and it’s finally here. You can’t wait to say ‘I do’ to Charlie in a few moments.

“Okay,” Savannah says. “Hair is done.”

Your sister closes her eyeshadow palette and says, “And so is makeup. We’re ready for the dress.”

Curious, you open your eyes and look in the mirror. You smile at the sight. Your sister did a silver smokey eye look with a nude lip color. Your curls are loose with the little white flowers scattered throughout.

There’s a knock on the door as your sister lays the dress across your bed. Savannah goes and answers the door. “Mrs. L/N,” she says. “Come on in. We were about to put the dress on.”

You turn in your seat to see your mother in a light pink dress that ends at her knees. She wears a black belt around her waist and black heels. She smiles and when she smiles, you see yourself. You and your mother are practically twins. She holds a veil with a tiara on it.

���Wow,” your mother gasps. “You look so beautiful, darling.”

Your eyes are still on the veil with the tiara in her hands. “What’s that?” you ask.

She looks down and says, “Your something blue, something old, and something borrowed. There’s a little blue gem on the tiara. This veil was your grandmothers, mine, and now yours.”

Savannah takes the tiara from your mother, putting it in your hair and securing it with a bobby pin or two. “I love it,” you announce. “It’s beautiful.”

The girls in your room all smile at you. Your sister unzips the bag with the dress and says, “Okay. We have about twenty minutes before the ceremony begins so let’s go.”

The dress you bought is a white strapless mermaid style satin wedding dress, which means it hugs your body until it flares out at your knees. The fabric from your knees up is ruched, which makes it look bunched up in a way. A diamond belt sits on your waist to sparkle the dress up a bit.

You watch in the mirror as your sister works at tying up the dress behind you. The dress hugs your figure and shows off your curves.

“Look at you,” your mother says. “Charlie is a very lucky man.” You can hear your mother choking back a few tears.

With a little laugh, you say, “Please don’t cry because then I’ll cry.”

Your sister chimes in and says, “Please don’t ruin my masterpiece. I worked hard on that.”

All four of you in the room laugh when there’s another knock on your door. Your sister opens it. You look and see Owen in the doorway. “Everything’s ready when you are, Y/N. By the way, you look very pretty.”

“Thank you, Owen,” you say, smiling. “We’ll be down in a moment.” He nods and closes the door.

It’s a very small wedding. Your parents, older sister, older brothers, blood aunts, uncles, first cousins, grandparents, and their plus ones on your side. Charlie’s parents, younger sister, older brothers, blood aunts, uncles, first cousins, grandparents, and their plus ones on his side. Plus Owen, Jeremy, Savannah, Cheyenne, Booboo, Madison, Sacha, and several other cast members from Julie and the Phantoms that you and Charlie consider yourself close with were invited, plus their plus ones. There’s maybe fifty or so people here. Compared to the probably two hundred or so that would have come if you invited every single family member and friend the two of you have.

With a sigh, you leave the room with your mother, Sav, and your sister. You wait in the dining room. Owen, Jeremy, and your father wait in there already. You look out the window to see everyone making conversation in the backyard in their seats. The white arch decorated with flowers looks nice with the mountains as a backdrop. You can see Charlie speaking with the ordained minister that is officiating the wedding under the arch as he waits for you.

Your mother hugs you and says, “You look stunning, Y/N. This is your day. Enjoy it.”

“Thank you, momma,” you say, holding back tears of your own now. Your mom pulls back from the hug and kisses your nose. You smile and she walks away.

Jeremy pairs up with your sister and Owen pairs up with Savannah. Your father walks over with your bouquet of white and lilac roses. “You ready, Y/N?” You nod and look up at your father. He looks very nice in his suit and his hair neatly combed back.

The pairs begin to walk out and conversation dies down. Madison plays the piano because you asked and you thought it would make the day more special if she played you down the aisle.

Your father hooks his left arm with your right arm and begins to walk down the “aisle”. The aisle is a space between the two sections of seats decorated with white roses.

As you walk, your eyes are on Charlie. He has a big smile on his face as he watches you. His hair is in his naturally wavy state and he’s clean shaven. He looks handsome in his suit and tie with a little bouquet of white flowers pinned to his jacket. You can see his big eyes full of happy tears, which spill onto his cheeks even though he tries to hold them back.

When you get to the arch, your father hands you away to Charlie. Mads stops playing when you’re both under the arch and you hand your bouquet back to your sister.

The minister begins, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to celebrate the love of these two people. If there is some reason to why these two should not be wed, speak up now or forever hold your peace.”

Your eyes don’t leave Charlie’s as no one objects. The minister continues, “If the bride and groom have any vows, they can speak now.”

“I have a few things I’d like to say,” you say, smiling at Charlie. The minister nods and you continue speaking. “Charlie, we met five years ago. We were there for each other before either of us found real fame. I promised you when we started dating that I would be there for you after either of us found real fame. This is me renewing that promise. I promise to love you, to trust you, to be with you forever no matter what. I promise to support any role that you take, or don’t take. I promise to be there for you when you get frustrated at anything, and I promise to love you through your worst days.”

Charlie sniffles a bit and the crowd “awes”. Your fiancé smiles and says, “I don’t know how to top that but here we go. Y/N, je t'aime. Je t’adore. There are so many ways to tell you that I love you and that I adore you in every way possible, but there are not enough ways to tell you that I love and adore you. We met five years ago and I knew then that I’d be standing here with you. I knew that you were the woman I was going to marry one day. We’ve been together for four years now, and I have never taken any day out of the past four years for granted. We’ve created so many memories together. We’ve recently been creating music together. I’m going to be super cheesy when I say it but I’m going to say it anyway. No music is worth making, Y/N, if I’m not making it with you. No memory is worth making, Y/N, if I’m not making it with you. No regrets. Je t’aime, I love you.”

You were able to hold it together until Charlie pulled out the “no music is worth making” line. You loved that line when he said it in the show, and he just pulled it out as he said his vows. You grow antsy, wanting to kiss him already.

The minister says, “Okay, the rings.” Owen pulls them out of his suit pocket. Of course Charlie had to give Owen the rings.

“Repeat after me, Y/N,” the minister says. You nod. “I, Y/N L/N, take thee Charles Gillespie to be my lawfully wedded husband in sickness and in health, til death do us part.”

With a smile on your face, you say, “I, Y/N L/N, take thee Charles Gillespie to be my lawfully wedded husband in sickness and in health, til death do us part.”

You slide Charlie’s silver band onto his left ring finger. The minister says, “Your turn, Charlie. Repeat after me. I, Charles Gillespie, take thee Y/N L/N to be my lawfully wedded wife in sickness and in health, til death do us part.”

Charlie states into your eyes and repeats, “I, Charles Gillespie, take thee Y/N L/N to be my lawfully wedded wife in sickness and in health, til death do us part.”

He slides your silver band onto your left ring finger. Your engagement ring is on your right ring finger.

The minister says, “With the power invested in me by the state of Pennsylvania, I pronounce you husband and wife. Charlie, you may kiss your bride.”

Charlie doesn’t hesitate after that. He cups your face in his hands and pulls your lips to his. The crowd cheers as you seal the wedding with a kiss.

***

The backyard is quickly turned into a reception area with a tent and everything. You don’t ever leave Charlie’s side the whole night.

You have your first dance with Charlie as a married couple, dancing to Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran. This was the song you both first danced to when you started dating so to come full circle, you made it your wedding song.

Your head is on his chest as he holds you in his arms. He looks down at you and says, “You look absolutely gorgeous, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve told you that enough times tonight.”

“Just because you can be cheesy, don’t mean you always should be,” you say, looking up at your new husband.

Charlie says, “Well, then to make it less cheesy, I think you look beautiful but you’ll look even more beautiful when that dress is on the floor and you’re underneath me naked.”

You playfully hit his shoulder and say, “Charles Gillespie. Now is not the time for sexual jokes.”

He smirks and says, “You married me. You’ll be hearing them all the time now.”

With a laugh from you both, you lean up and press a light kiss to Charlie’s lips. Both of you share these types of kisses all through the night, until you’re alone in your hotel room in Paris for your two-week long honeymoon.

[basilone]

hey i hope you’re well! i was interested in hearing your thoughts about this, people new to the fandom have been posting gifs for bob but you can tell the gifs are not theirs. they don’t credit the gif makers or tell people they have permission to repost gifs, or any of that and those who credit, only credit pinterest. you can tell it’s not their gifs by the coloring and how each gif is extremely different from the other, like the gifs are from different sources/gif makers. how do you feel about that?

Hi anon! I'm doing well, thank you, and I hope you are too. 😊

I gotta level with you first and say that I hope your ask isn't meant to shit-stir or cause any trouble in the fandom for the person(s) who're doing this sort of thing. If you truly want them to realize the errors of their ways, please consider sending them a private message to explain why this isn't a nice thing to do in fandom. (And, of course, do not reblog a post that is full of reposted gifs. It hurts my heart every time those posts get any type of engagement!)

That said, I have thoughts on this. I have a lot of thoughts on this, because the reality is that I'm tired.

I always operate on the basis of good faith in fandom. People who are new to fandom might not be aware of some things that are common sense to us who've been in fandom longer. People might not be aware that what they're doing isn't good. People might have seen other people do these things before, and they might not know that they're not supposed to do them.

For those people, let me say this: Pinterest, Twitter, WeHeartIt, Google, etc. are not sources for gifs. If you do not know a gif's origin, do not use it in your posts. If you don't know who made it, do not use it. I don't care if it's the best gif you've ever seen, I don't care if it fits whatever fanfic you're publishing, I don't care if it's perfect for your roleplaying. That gif isn't yours. That gif belongs to a gifmaker like myself, who has often spent hours creating that gif and has published that gif in a set on their own blog.

If you want to use that gif in any way in your own post, the bare minimum you should do is credit its original creator. They've worked hard on it and they deserve to be credited for that! Simply @-ing our username or using Tumblr's gif search will suffice, as we always get a notification of that. Also consider asking the gifmaker directly if you can use their gif in a particular post/fic: they will often say yes, but please also respect a 'no'.

And the reality here for me as a gifmaker is also this: I'm tired of asking people to credit me. I'm tired of having to message people and request that they credit my work in their posts. The HBO War fandom is pretty mild in how often this sort of thing occurs, but I have been part of another fandom where my work gets reposted on a regular basis. So regular, in fact, that I have utterly soured on the roleplaying community (the worst offenders when it comes to gif reposts!) and have taken to blocking people instead of asking them time and again to credit me. I'm so tired of it that I actually do not message anyone about it anymore, because my temper in regards to this has frayed over the years and I don't want to be a massive bitch to someone who might not even know that what they're doing is wrong.

I hope that this answer will create more awareness in our fandom and will make people credit the lovely gifmakers in our community for their work. Please don't use my words as an excuse to dogpile the user(s) who repost gifs, as they might not have realized they're committing a fandom faux-pas. Consider letting them know in private! (And if they refuse/ignore it or don't think it's that big a deal, you'll know they don't see gifmakers and other creative contributors to the fandom as people. We're just content machines to them, and in that case you can feel absolutely free to block and ignore that user from there on out.)

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | final chapter: is something burning?

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, SMUT WARNINGS APPLY in this chapter sorry i’m yelling stressed!joon, sweaty!joon, sober!joon all make an appearance

rating: 18+

word count: 7.9K

notes: okay, so i stressed a bit about this chapter.  i got really in my head over it, but i hope it ends in a way that’s satisfying to all of you guys.  i’ve heard from some of the most amazing readers about this story -- i appreciate you all so much and i’d love to hear from you about how you feel about the ending.

special love to the best beta hands down periodt amen @hobi-gif​​, the lady who inspired it all with her adorable brand of namjoon thirst @sahmfanficbts​​, and three people who mean the world to me point blank period @ladyartemesia​​ @ppersonna​​ @taetaewonderland​​

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

*************************

There’s this thing that happens when you’re getting over a cold.

Slowly -- as your breathing returns to normal -- you can taste again.  Your head clears and your senses come back to life and you savor everything you eat like it’s the best thing you’ve ever had.  Your appetite returns.  

And all at once, you are starving.

That’s what it’s like after Namjoon touches you.

All he had to do was cup your face in one large, warm hand and it feels like your entire body has been jump-started.  Like parts of you that have been dormant for years are now awake, nerve endings exposed and aching.  Like all the tiny pieces of you that have been scattered and lost for so long are now found and fitting back together.

For the first time in a long time you remember what it feels like to want.

It’s not like you didn’t know you cared for Namjoon.  You knew it deep down in the way you took pride in providing for his needs.  You knew it in the way it made you feel to see appreciation reflected back in his dark eyes.

But you didn’t understand how much you wanted him until that night in his office.  

In those few charged moments, Namjoon made you feel more desired with his gaze than other men have with their hands.  You let down your guard and allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to touch him, to be touched by him. You let yourself embrace the fantasy of being his in every way.

And then it was over.

Whatever spell he was under was broken and whatever existed in the air between you evaporated.  The hunger in his eyes turned into remorse and you’d left his office on trembling legs, reeling from the whiplash of it all.

Today, you stare out at the window across from your desk, unable to suppress the hurt that grips your chest.  You can barely concentrate on the numbers on the sheet in front of you, mind replaying the events in that office.  

Namjoon should never have touched you.  

He should never have roused the parts of you that had been long forgotten between doctors visits and pharmacy runs.  He should never have made you feel things no other man ever has or probably ever will.

And he should have never let you believe, even for one second, that he could care for you the way you do for him.

He should have just left you alone.

*********************

No one ever tells you that when you devote your life to caring for someone else’s needs, yours end up falling by the wayside.  That who you are ends up diminished somehow, buried underneath the weight of responsibility and worry.

Jinjoo finds you sitting in the chair next to your mother’s bed, staring at one lock of hair threaded through your fingers.  You’re frowning at the split ends you’ve not had a chance to tend to, the ones you hide by keeping your hair pulled back.

She sweeps into the room, carrying a bowl of kimchi.

“It’s Saturday. The sun is shining and you should go out.  Maybe to the salon, hmm?”

You glance up just as she’s placing the food on a tray at the foot of your mother’s bed.  She smiles to soften the blow of her observation and you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at her well-meaning meddling.  It’s nice to be fussed over for a change.

“I can’t even remember the last time I went to the salon,” you admit, eyes locking on an unsightly chip in your nail polish.  “I usually end up cutting it myself.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Jinjoo scolds, hands on hips.  “Today I want you to go out and do something just for you.  Go and get the works.  You’re far too young to be stuck in this house all the time.”

You consider her offer for a moment.  Here in the quiet of your mother’s room it’s far too easy to let your mind wander back to the encounter with Namjoon.  Far too easy to dwell on the ache that surfaces every time you remember.

“Go on, Ttal.”

You turn in the direction of your mother’s voice and find her stirring from her nap.  She places one soft hand over yours and squeezes.  “She’s right.  Go take some time away.  I’ll be fine here with Jinjoo.”

“See?” Jinjoo waves a hand to shoo you out of the chair. You stand and she immediately takes your place in the seat.  “Your mother agrees.  Now go.  And buy something pretty to wear while you’re at it.”

You look from her to your mother and see both women wearing matching expressions of encouragement.  

You decide they’re right.

So you spend the rest of your day pampering yourself and shopping and definitely not thinking about Kim Namjoon.  

You don’t think about him when you read the book he recommended to you once at the salon, you don’t think about him when you stop for a bite at his favorite Tteokbokki stand and you definitely don’t think about him when you buy a new sweater that makes you feel beautiful.

You definitely don’t think about him at all.

*****************************

NAMJOON

Kim Namjoon’s father was a pig.

A glutton of the worst kind, he hoarded money and guns and drugs and because no one ever tried to stop him.  He used and abused everything and everyone just because he could.

Namjoon hated to watch the sadistic games his father played with people.  He hated that the man seemed to direct the worst of his cruelty at the women in his life.  

Namjoon’s own sister left everything behind to escape his violence and abuse and somehow his father was even more vicious with the women he bedded and discarded at random.  He dangled things like money and security and love in front of them like bait, only to yank it all away on a whim.

That’s why Namjoon has worked so hard his entire life to prove to others -- to prove to himself -- that he’s better than the piece of shit who raised him.  

That’s why the look on your face in his office that night cut so deep.

That look pierced straight through the lust and the scotch clouding his judgement and forced him to step back and see the situation for what it was. It made him feel sick to think he might have made you feel like his help came with conditions.  That he’d done what he had expecting you to give yourself to him in return.  

He couldn’t allow you to think he’d use his money to try and buy you.  That’s something his father would have done.

And Kim Namjoon is not his fucking father.

So this morning he finds himself walking towards your desk, determined to make it right.  You don’t register his approach as you work quietly and Namjoon has a quick moment to take you in.

There’s something different about you.

Namjoon can’t put his finger on it, but when he gets close enough for you to notice his presence and you glance up at him from under those long lashes, you look changed somehow.

Rested. Radiant.

The second you register that it’s him though, the look on your face changes.  You stand up from your chair, expression shuttered, tone formal.

“Mister Kim,” you murmur.  “How can I help you this morning?”

“Please sit,” Namjoon starts quietly.  “I, uh --” He digs his nails into his palm, annoyed with the hesitation in his delivery.  Spit it out, you moron.

“-- I owe you an apology.”

Your lips part in surprise before you close your mouth, sinking slowly back into your chair.  

Namjoon rubs one hand across the back of his neck, stealing a sideways glance at Seokjin’s office door.  It remains closed and he’s glad for it.  The last thing he’d want is an audience for this embarrassing exchange.

“The other night I was --” he clears his throat awkwardly.  Loaded. Horny. Stupid.  

He eventually lands on a less damning adjective.  “-- not entirely appropriate with you.”

You blink back but keep quiet so Namjoon keeps talking.

“I shouldn’t have acted that way,” he acknowledges weakly.  “That’s not normally how I treat my employees.  And I’m sorry.”

Spots of color appear in your cheeks.

“Well as your employee, I admit it wasn’t appropriate for me to just turn up in your office without notice, either,” you reply quietly.  “I think I was just shocked by your generosity. It’s a lot of money, and I --”

“-- Don’t think anything of it,” Namjoon interjects quickly.  “You’ve saved me that amount and more with your audits.  It only made sense to repay you for your efforts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Namjoon knows it immediately.  It’s not the truth -- not by a mile -- and judging by the look that passes over your face, it’s definitely not what you wanted to hear.

“Mister Kim.”

“Yes?” Namjoon replies, only to realize that you are now looking past him and that he’s not the only one answering.

He turns slowly to find Seokjin standing behind him, wearing an expression halfway between curiosity and scrutiny.  Namjoon’s nails dig back into his palms, leaving tiny indents in the skin.

“Good morning,” you continue, turning your attention fully to Seokjin.  Seokjin looks between you and Namjoon before answering.

“Good morning to you, too,” he says slowly.

“If you’re ready to go over the new audits, I have more information to cover with you,” you say, pointing at the papers riddled with notes on your desk.  Namjoon stands there like an idiot, watching the two of you interact like he’s not even there.

“Sure,” Seokjin agrees, eyes darting back to Namjoon.  “Let’s go ahead and get into the numbers.”

“Great,” you say with a smile, standing to organize your papers into a folder.  

You look back at Namjoon like he’s an afterthought and the realization stings.  “If that was all you needed, I’ve got some work to handle now.”

The nails in his palm are this close to drawing blood.  

He cuts his eyes at Seokjin who immediately looks away.

“Certainly,” he says under his breath.  “Let me not keep you.”

You turn your back on him to head into Seokjin’s office.

***********************

Namjoon stares out at the setting sun from his office window.

He’s spent the last few days hiding out in here, avoiding everything and everyone.  Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin -- his phone keeps lighting up with calls he won’t answer.  His already black mood darkens every time his mind replays the seemingly endless string of disastrous exchanges with you.

He still can’t figure out how he’s managed to fuck things up so royally.

He still can’t figure out why he didn’t just tell you the truth about the money and about Jinjoo. He should have just admitted outright that for once he wanted to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.  He should have just admitted that you mean something to him.

That’s the real reason why things are so screwed up right now.

It would be so simple if this was just about sex.  It would be so simple if Namjoon could just get you into bed and get you out of his system.  But you’re not Mina or Yejin or any of the others.  

You’re not like any woman he’s ever known.

Namjoon leans back into his chair just as his cell phone lights again and he grabs it just long enough to reject the call before tossing it back onto his desk.  He rubs his fingers across his mouth and watches the sun fall behind the nearby skyscrapers.

You deserve so much more than he is capable of giving you.

You deserve happiness and security and certainty.  What you don’t deserve is to be toyed with by a man who doesn’t know what his future looks like.  A man who’s still so damaged by his own upbringing that he worries he’ll never be capable of being a decent husband and father.

Truthfully, Namjoon doesn’t know which scenario scares him more.  

The one where he tries -- and fails -- to give you the things you need, or the one where he drifts through the rest of his life anchored to no one and nothing.

The sound of an incoming text interrupts his maudlin thoughts.

Namjoon reaches for his phone and sighs as he reads the waiting message.

reservations at doore yoo, 8 PM [ 6:32 PM ]

join me [ 6:32 PM ]

it’s been too long [ 6:33 PM ]

***********************

“Mister Kim.”

The Maitre’d at Doore Yoo bows in Namjoon’s direction, flashing a wide smile. “A pleasure to have you back.”

“Thank you Sungho,” Namjoon murmurs, scanning the crowded dining room.  “Is she waiting for me?”

“She is,” Sungho confirms.

Namjoon follows him past the tables packed with patrons to the exclusive dining area hidden away in the back.  This is his regular table, inside his regular private room -- but when Sungho slides the door open, Namjoon stops short and nearly tells the man he’s made a mistake.

The young woman waiting for him inside is unrecognizable.

From the back, Namjoon can see that her dark hair has been swept into a careful updo, shoulders and skin bared in a delicate spaghetti-strap top.  But that can’t be right.

Because she would never --

“Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon’s sister lifts her chin and smiles as he steps around the table.  

He catches himself staring, momentarily thrown by the sight in front of him.  It’s the first time in his life he can recall seeing his sister wearing something that doesn’t cover the jagged scar that crosses her collarbone.  The scar that she’s spent a lifetime hiding, ashamed of the way it made her look and feel.  At once, the realization hits him -- the hundreds of different ways she’s changed, big and small since falling in love with Hoseok.  

Every last one of them for the better.

“Amsaja, you look -- ” Namjoon pauses to brush a kiss across her cheek, “ -- wonderful.”

She flushes.

“Thank you. Now sit,” she orders kindly, reaching for her wine glass.  “For a minute there I thought you might not show.”

Namjoon exhales, sinking into his seat.  

“For a minute there, I almost didn’t,” he admits.  “It’s been a shitty week.”

His sister says nothing, smiling like a sphinx as a server appears to offer Namjoon his own drink.  

“Club soda on ice,” Namjoon orders quietly.  “Thanks.”

Her poker face slips then, one eyebrow lifting in surprise at seeing him forgo his usual scotch.  She sips her wine thoughtfully before speaking.

“Talk to me, Namjoon.”

“There’s little to talk about,” he deflects irritably, staring past her to the art on the walls.  

“Hoseok says you’ve barely left your office.  Won’t take his calls.”

Namjoon grits his teeth, hackles raising immediately.

“Tell Hoseok he should work on his pillow talk,” he says sharply, and the second the words leave his mouth he regrets them.  Namjoon sees the change in his sister’s demeanor, watches her eyes sharpen from across the table.  

“Forgive me,” he apologizes quickly.  “That was uncalled for.  I’m fucking things up left and right these days, it seems.”

His sister stares back at him.  Namjoon knows that face, knows she’s now opted to abandon her charm offensive for a more direct approach.  He knows it’s exactly what he deserves for being an asshole.

“That’s my understanding, yes,” she says tightly.  “As smart as you are, you seem to be doing some very stupid shit lately.”

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, cheeks warming at her rebuke.

“You’re right,” he admits.  “But I’m going to need you to be more specific about which stupid shit you want to talk about tonight.”

“Don’t be dense,” his sister scolds.  “Clearly, you’re tied up in knots over your assistant.  Oh, I’m sorry -- I mean former assistant.”

Namjoon’s defeated sigh hangs in the air for a moment.

“Is that what Hoseok says?”

“That’s what everyone says,” his sister fires back.  “You think you’re such a mystery but I assure you, you’re actually quite transparent.  Sending her away to work for Seokjin? Hiring a private nurse?  Good grief, Namjoon.  Real subtle.”

Shit, he wishes he had a scotch right now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to explain to me why you’re playing this stupid game of push and pull with this woman.  If you care about her, do something about it instead of lashing out at everyone around you because you’re angry with yourself.”

“She’s not --” Namjoon falters as he searches for a proper explanation, “-- she has a complicated life right now.  I’m just trying to help her the only way I know how.”

His sister leans back in her chair, wine glass tipped in his direction.

“You know what I think?  I think you like her too much and I think that’s freaking you out.  And I think you’re going to miss out on a good thing because you won’t get your head out of your ass.”

Namjoon stares back at his sister.

“I think you might be right,” he concedes, after a heavy silence.  

“Namjoon, I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” his sister says quietly.  “Whatever you’re feeling, she’s feeling it too.”

He knows that’s true. It’s been damned near impossible not to feel the charged air between you, impossible not to share passing looks and fleeting touches while working in such close quarters.  When he looks at you he knows instinctively that you feel the same pull.  It’s only made his precarious position that much harder.

“I just --” he shakes his head as he tries to justify his inaction, “-- I have no idea what I’m offering her.  I don’t know what I’m capable of giving her.  Beyond money, of course.”

His sister laughs.  

Namjoon waits for her to collect herself, ears warm with embarrassment.  He resists the childish impulse to kick her under the table.

“Is that funny to you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” she teases.  “You have no idea what you have to offer her?  You’re one of the most powerful men in this city, Namjoon.  There’s nothing you couldn’t offer her.”

The server arrives with dumplings and sets them in the middle of the table, and his sister reaches for one.

“If she’s this important to you, I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her,” she continues.  “Stop overthinking this. You’re a good man.  Everything else is icing on the cake.”

“I haven’t acted like a good man lately,” he confesses, shaking his head.  “She came to my office a few nights ago and I acted like a drunk, groping asshole.  Like father, like son.”

His sister sets her wine glass down, hard.

“You’re nothing like our father, Namjoon,” she says, eyes flashing with anger.  “Quit telling yourself you don’t deserve happiness out of some misguided, misplaced guilt.  And whatever happened in that office can be fixed.  If you want to fix it.”

Namjoon watches the bubbles in his club soda surface and break.  He does want to fix it.  He wants to figure out a way to stop fucking everything up where you’re concerned.

“I do,” he admits.

“Have you apologized?”

“Awkwardly. Not sure that it helped my case.”

“Then I think you need to offer her the one thing that’s more valuable than your money, Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow at his sister.

“What’s that?”

She plucks a dumpling off the plate with her chopsticks and points it at him.

“Give her your time.”

****************************

YOU

It’s freezing tonight.

You wrap your arms around yourself and brace against the biting wind as you approach your family home.  You’re dead on your feet, worn after a long day at the office -- and for the thousandth time since her arrival you silently give thanks for Jinjoo.  

Knowing your mother is taken care of while you’re gone and coming back to a clean home and warm meals has eased your burdens immeasurably.  

Of course, it’s all really thanks to Kim Namjoon -- but that’s something you’re not allowing your mind to dwell on right now.  You’ve worked hard over the past few days to push any thought of that man back to the furthest recesses of your mind.  

You’re peeling out of your scarf and coat in the foyer when a laugh echoes down the long hallway.  It’s the sound of your mother’s laugh -- clear in a way you haven’t heard in a very long time -- and it’s definitely not coming from her room.

“Eomma?” you call out as you walk towards the sound.  A peal of Jinjoo’s laughter rings out next and you smile, following it.

You round the corner to the living room and your mouth drops open when you spot your mother, fully dressed for the first time in ages, sitting on the formal couch.  Jinjoo is seated next to her, both women smiling and laughing at --

Oh God.

Namjoon stands from his seat on the opposite couch when your eyes meet his.  His cheeks are pinked from the cold, hair tousled from the wind, and he looks so handsome that for a moment you forget how to think.  

“Welcome home,” he says, dimples emerging from his slow, careful smile.

You stare back at him, rooted to the spot.  Your face warms when you realize that every single eye in the room is trained on you, awaiting your next move.

“Do you -- ” Namjoon clears his throat, “ -- do you think I could have a minute of your time?”

“What are you doing here?” you say, blowing right past his question.

Jinjoo makes a disapproving sound under her breath.

“Ttal,” your mother interjects with a tone that borders very close to warning, “Mister Kim came by to talk to you.  He kept the two of us company until you came home.”

You turn to look at her and -- is she wearing lipstick?

“Yes,” Namjoon adds quickly, turning the warmth of his smile back to your mother and Jinjoo. “And they’ve been wonderful company. Thank you, ladies.”

The two of them titter like schoolgirls enjoying the attention of the most popular boy in school while you just stare.

And stare.

“Ttal?”

Your mother’s voice breaks through your mental fog.  You look back at her and Jinjoo and both women appear to be holding their breath, awaiting your response.  Jinjoo’s eyes are pleading when they meet yours, silently begging you to play nice.

You turn back to Namjoon slowly.

“One minute.”

“Great,” he breathes, shoving a hand through his hair.

“Not here.”

The words come out more sharply than you’d intended and your mother’s eyes go wide. Jinjoo sighs.

“What I mean to say,” you start again, delivery clumsy, “Is that we should probably step outside.”

“Of course,” Namjoon agrees.

You will your leaden legs and feet to cooperate as you turn to leave, grabbing your coat from the foyer closet on the way.  You slip it on and lead Namjoon out to the front porch, immediately wincing at the bitter cold that greets you.  

The door clicks shut and you burrow deep into your coat, turning to face him.  You force yourself to ignore the warmth that blossoms in your chest when his mouth curves into a soft smile.

“Your mother seems to be doing well tonight,” Namjoon notes. “I’m glad to see it.”

It’s not fair.  It’s not fair that he can just show up here on a whim -- looking like that, talking like that.  

Charming everyone in his path.  

“Namjoon, I’m going to ask again.  What are you doing here?”

The smile on his face falls and he looks skyward, exhaling a puff of steam into the cold night air.

”I’m here to come clean,” he confesses quietly.  “Thought I might do this new thing where I try not to act like an idiot around you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, stomach fluttering wildly in response.

A lock of his hair falls over his eye when he looks back down and you smother the urge to brush it back, hands balling into fists in your pockets.

“Thought I might do this new thing where I just tell you the truth.”

You’ve tried so hard these past few days to be angry with him, to use your hurt feelings like a wall around your heart.  But you can’t anymore.  He looks down at you with those huge, dark eyes and your grudge falls apart.

“I care about you,” he admits.  “I’ve been stumbling over my own feet for weeks because I didn’t know how to approach you about it. And then that night in the office,” he trails off, looking pained.  “That is not how I intended to treat you.”

A gust of wind blows through and you curl into yourself, teeth chattering.  Namjoon pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders.  

“Please don’t,” you protest weakly.  “You’ll freeze.”

“I won’t,” he promises, stepping closer.  

You wrap the wool tight around your body, enjoying the way his lingering heat and scent wrap around you at the same time.  Your heart is beating so wildly you can hear your pulse in your ears.

“Namjoon,” you whisper. “You must know I feel the same way.”

He reaches one hand up to stroke his fingers across your cheek.

“I was really hoping you’d say that.”

He’s so close now that all it would take is the slightest tip of your chin, the most incremental change in angle to press your mouth to his. But he doesn’t close the small distance between you.  His gaze shifts to the street and you follow it, only now realizing a black sedan has been idling outside your house this entire time.  

Your cheeks flame hot at the thought of his driver witnessing this exchange.

“I want a chance to do this the right way,” he murmurs.  “Can I have it?”

You nod, waiting for your mouth to catch up to your brain.  “Of course.”

He smiles wide then, the kind of smile you haven’t seen on him in a long time and once again you’re struck by how handsome he is.  He narrows his eyes playfully when he realizes you are staring.

“Let’s get you inside before you get sick.”

You nod, pulling off his coat and watching as he shrugs back into it. He grabs for your hand, fingers brushing against yours just as you reach for the door.

“Good night, Namjoon,” you say softly.  

He squeezes your cold fingers with his.

“Good night.”

***************************

Namjoon sends his driver for you.

You shift uncomfortably in the backseat of the sleek car, avoiding Chun’s gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror.  Up until now, you knew him only as the voice on the other end of the line when you’d arranged for Namjoon’s rides.

Now you’re matching a face with a voice -- and so is he.

You try not to dwell on how this must look after the scene outside your home just a few nights ago.  Especially now that he’s been tasked with taking you to Namjoon’s penthouse.

It’s embarrassing, certainly -- but even this pales in comparison to what you’d had to endure before leaving the house.  

When your mother had asked you to come see her and casually inquired about the last time you’d shaved your legs.  When Jinjoo had made a point of letting you know that she was planning on staying all night long just as you were walking out the door.

That was definitely the most embarrassing part.

That’s why you feel a knot in your stomach as the security guard in Namjoon’s building escorts you personally up to the very top floor -- the one accessible only by keycard.  That’s why you find yourself holding your breath right until the very moment Namjoon opens the door.

Then you let go of that breath.

“Thank you, Jaejin,” he greets, bowing in the man’s direction.  He turns his attention to you and the knot in your stomach explodes into butterflies.

“Thanks for coming,” he says with a careful smile.  

As if you had any choice in the matter.  You kick your brain into gear and remind yourself to stop staring and smile back as the door shuts behind you.  

He takes your coat and you take him in.

It’s the most casual you’ve ever seen him look, barefoot in jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows.  He looks fresh from a shower, skin glistening and golden.  The scent of him --- clean and male and intoxicating -- wafts over you.

Followed by a far less enticing one.

“Namjoon,” your nose wrinkles at the acrid smell,  “Is something burning?”

“Something was burning,” he admits sheepishly. “But it’s not anymore.  And you -- “ he pauses to let his gaze rake over you, “ -- you look incredible.”

Heat creeps up your neck and into your face, making you feel just a touch too warm in your brand new sweater.  

“Thank you,” you reply, accepting his compliment with a shy smile. “So do you.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and you clear your throat, feeling uncomfortable with the admiration in his eyes.

“Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe the words through a nervous laugh. “That sounds great, actually.”  You hope it’s not obvious that you’re jumping at the chance to take the edge off of your jitters.

Namjoon leaves you standing in his grand living room as he heads to the kitchen to pour the wine.  You’ve always known he was a wealthy man -- but knowing that in the abstract and seeing it firsthand are two different things entirely.  You take in the massive wall-to-wall windows and gleaming marble floors and custom-made art pieces with silent awe.

Namjoon interrupts your gawking when he returns with your wine.

“So about dinner,” he starts with a chuckle. “It’s on the way.  I attempted to cook something, but as you already know that didn’t quite work out.  Not surprising, seeing as I’ve never cooked in this kitchen before.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise.  “Never?”

“Never,” he says with a smile.  “I’ve never brought anyone to this apartment, either.”

His smile vanishes then, a more serious look taking its place.  You swallow thickly as you let the implication of that statement wash over you.

“No one?”

“No one,” he confirms quietly.

Your lips part with surprise and Namjoon looks away, like he’s admitted too much -- and you stand there spinning your wheels, searching for something to say.

The sound of the door chime is a well-timed and welcome interruption.

Namjoon heads to the door to accept the food and you realize the same security guard who escorted you up here is making the delivery.  It makes sense, of course, that only a trusted few could get this close to Namjoon’s private space.

“Are you expecting more people?” you tease with a smile when the guard wheels in a cart weighted down with enough food to feed an army.  

Relief washes over you when Namjoon smiles back. The strange moment that passed between you before is forgotten.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got one of everything.”

Pleasant smells emanating from the carefully-packed containers fill the apartment, pushing away the burnt one still lingering from the food that’s been relegated to the trash.

“Just so you know,” you laugh, “I like all of it.”  

****************************

The centerpiece of Namjoon’s outrageously opulent great room is the fireplace.  

Your fingers wrap tight around the stem of your wine glass as you stare into the flames and contemplate how this night will end.

You know how you want it to end.  

You know the dozens of debauched fantasies you’ve entertained about Namjoon -- the myriad ways he’s had you in your mind.  But there’s no way for you to know what his intentions are, how he expects this night to end.

That’s why you’re strung tight as a bow as you hear him clearing plates and cleaning up in the kitchen.  The sounds eventually slow and then stop.  And you wait.

You don’t hear him approach.  

You come out of your thoughts and look away from the flames and he’s just there, standing in front of the couch wearing an expression you can’t read.  The wine starts to wobble inside your glass, set in motion by your unsteady hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, reaching for it. “Let me.”

He takes the glass and places it on the coffee table, sinking into the space next to you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs.  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

He leans in and reaches out to thread his hands into your hair.

“Namjoon,” you whisper weakly, pulse leaping in response.  

His eyes seem to darken at the sound of his name. His fingers slip out of your hair and under your jaw, tipping your chin up and compelling you to meet his gaze.  

“I told you I was going to do this the right way,” he murmurs, “And I meant it.  After that night in my office, I promised myself I was never going to put you in that position again.”

Your tongue slips out to wet your lips involuntarily, as if the action could take the place of the words you want so badly to say.  

But Namjoon makes no move, fingers firm under your jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes gently. “If you want this -- if you want me, tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

The words come out in a rush, laced with such desperation they sound like a plea, not an order.  A smile tugs the corner of Namjoon’s mouth and he nods.

Carefully, deliberately, he sinks his mouth onto yours.

You sigh against the press of his lips as the pads of his fingers stroke the side of your face.  For a moment you can’t think; can’t process a thing beyond the spice on his tongue from the Buldak or how impossibly soft his lips feel against yours.  

He kisses you until you can’t breathe -- and just a moment beyond that -- until you are forced to pull away, chest heaving.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admits, panting.

“I’ve been wanting you to do that since we were kids,” you confess, emboldened.

He leans close again, eyes half-lidded, lips grazing yours.

“Well, we’re not kids anymore.”

*********************

NAMJOON

Namjoon has to force himself not to totally fucking devour you.

You are finally in his hands and the urge to unleash months of wait and want on you is so strong he has to take a physical step back.

You look up at him from where you sit on his bed -- hair mussed from his fingers, lips swollen from his kisses -- and he hesitates, unsure of his next move.

“If you’re thinking you don’t want to -- “ you start.  

Namjoon cuts you off with a strangled laugh.

“Trust me, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he vows, shoving a hand through his hair.  “It’s like I’ve wanted you so bad for so long I don’t even know where to start.”

Your eyes soften as you gaze at him.

Namjoon holds his breath as he watches you slip out of your sweater and then out of your jeans.  You lie back against his sheets, eyes holding steady contact with his.

“Start anywhere,” you breathe quietly.  “Start everywhere.  Just start.  Please.”

Fuck, you are going to be his undoing.

It takes him an irritatingly long time to work the buttons of his shirt open on account of his thick, clumsy fingers.  He finally manages to get out of it and his jeans follow right behind.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” you murmur as he slides into the bed next to you.  His fingers rake over the soft skin of your stomach and you jerk under his fingertips, body reacting immediately to his touch. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

Namjoon smiles when you use his own words against him.  

He dips his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply -- savoring the soft, sweet smell of your skin.  He mouths at your pulse point, feeling it race in response when his fingers trail lower to tease the delicate band of your panties.

“I figured out where I want to start,” he murmurs, sucking gently at the hollow of your collarbone.  

He feels your deep intake of breath when he slips one hand into the satin, grazing against your mound.  He shifts lower, allowing one finger to dip into your center, groaning at the wetness he finds waiting for him there.

“So responsive, Jagiya,” he praises softly.  “So beautiful.”

You make a needy sound, hips lifting off the bed as you chase the pressure of his fingers.  He turns to capture your lips again with his own, simultaneously working two fingers into the tight space between your thighs.

“Namjoon,” you sigh brokenly, “F-feels so good.”

“I can do better,” he promises.  “Turn over for me.”

He waits for you to comply, body shifting in the bed.  Once you are face down, he climbs over you, dipping his mouth to the shell of your ear, biting gently on the soft skin.  You shiver underneath him, moaning softly.

Slowly, he kisses a line down the back of your neck, hands stopping just long enough to undo the clasp to your bra.  He slips it off of you, reaching under you to tease at your nipples with his fingertips.  He chuckles low with satisfaction when you twitch under his fingertips.

He continues his descent, dropping kisses along the soft line of your back.  His hands reach your panties and he pulls them off, mouth sucking gently at the base of your spine.

“Namjoon,” you gasp, the sound of your plea is muffled as you press your face into the sheets. “Touch me.”

He sinks one long finger into you then, savoring the tight pull of your heat as his tongue flicks out to taste you.  Your hips jerk off the bed and he uses both strong hands to urge your legs further apart.

“Relax for me,” he soothes, mouth closing over your wet center.  

He pushes a second finger into you and you shudder at the fullness, back arching.  The movement angles your cunt even closer and Namjoon seizes the opportunity, tongue firm as he swipes it against you.

He can tell how badly you want this.  He can feel it in the way your thighs tremble while he’s working you with his fingers and tongue.  He can hear it in the way you whimper when he nips gently at you with his teeth.

“Namjoon,” the tilt to your voice makes it sound like you are on the verge of tears.  “Please -- I c-can’t -- ”  Your thought evaporates into thin air when he groans directly into your center, curling his fingers deep against the spot inside of you that draws a sharp gasp.

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs his encouragement as you buck against his grip.  “Come for me, Jagiya.”

He looks up just long enough to see your fingers twisted into the sheets, face buried deep into the pillow as you fall apart in his hands.  You make the prettiest sounds as you succumb.  Somewhere in the midst of your frantic whispering he hears his name and the sound goes straight to his cock, making the ache there almost impossible to ignore.  

He ignores it anyway -- pushing the feeling aside to ride out the tremors with you, relishing the taste of your release on his tongue.  He praises you, savors you, keeps you anchored to his mouth until your hips drop flush to the bed with exhaustion.

Then he kisses his way back up the line of your spine, dropping down at your side.  You look so deliciously sated and flushed when you turn over that Namjoon can’t help the slow smile that comes over him.

You kiss it right off.

You fit your body against his -- slick skin against slick skin -- and kiss Namjoon so hard it takes him by surprise.  Your hands dive into his hair, mouth desperate against his.

Namjoon chuckles under his breath at your newfound boldness, fingers reaching to tease at one pebbled nipple.  Your body jolts in response and you answer with a move of your own, one hand sliding across the hard plane of his stomach and into his boxers.  

Up until this very moment, he’s been able to ignore the insistent throbbing between his own legs.  But the moment your fingers wrap around him -- the moment you start to pump your hand gently over him -- it becomes his only thought.

“Shit,” he groans, breaking the kiss to inhale deeply,  “God, that feels good.”

You pull away to maneuver your body over his.  

Namjoon watches through hooded eyes as you pull his boxers down his legs and then turn your attention to his straining cock.  He takes his bottom lip between his teeth to contain the noise he makes when your mouth descends onto him.

The moments that follow are a test of the last shreds of Namjoon’s self-control.  

The wet warmth of your mouth surrounds him, tongue teasing at the sensitive places that make his hips jerk and his mouth drop open in surrender.  Your grip around his cock stays firm, mouth soft in contrast -- both sensations almost too much to bear at once.

He slips a hand in your hair to push back the strands that have fallen into your face and you release him with a pop, lips wet and swollen, eyes glassy and wide.  

He nearly comes right then and there.

“No more,” he croaks, voice hoarse with arousal.  “That’s all I can take.”

The smile you return is nothing short of victorious.  Namjoon rolls you onto your back in one fluid motion, more than ready to retake his position of control.   Your eyes are sparkling with laughter and he grins back.

“You like seeing me at your mercy, huh?” he teases, dropping kisses into the crook of your neck.  

“I do,” you admit, shuddering when he slips one hand back down to the apex of your thighs.  “It’s nice to be the one in charge for a change.”

Namjoon kisses you slowly then, taking himself in hand to slide the head of his stiff cock against the wetness spilling from your entrance.  He pulls up on his arms and looks down at you just to appreciate the way you look right now, hair splayed across his pillow and skin luminous against his sheets.  

“You’ve always been in charge, Jagiya,” he breathes, enjoying the way your cheeks pink in response.  “Just like you’re in charge right now. So tell me what you want.”

The humor disappears from your eyes then, replaced by something heady and dark.  

Namjoon sucks in a breath when your hand wraps back around his cock, guiding him back to your entrance.  He throbs with need under your fingertips, muscles locked tight with anticipation.

“This -- ” you murmur, tilting your hips up to take him in, “ -- is what I want.”  

Namjoon sinks down carefully then, slowly -- choking back a moan at the unbearably tight grip of your walls.  You gasp, nails digging into his back as he strokes to the hilt.  

“This is what you want?” he goads, feeling powerful now, drunk on the sight of you writhing beneath him. He pulls back and surges forward again, drawing a desperate moan from you.  “Like this?”

You wrap your legs around him, hands sliding down the slick skin of his back until your fingers are gripping his ass, urging him to move faster.

“Yes,” you manage on a shaky breath.  “Like that.  Over and over and over.”

Namjoon buries his smile against your breasts, tonguing at your nipples as his hips piston against you.  He nips at one with his teeth and you whine, back arching off the bed.  

“You’re made for me,” he groans, panting his praise in between deep strokes, “So tight and wet I can’t think.”

You hum your contentment into his mouth when you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close for a kiss.  He slips one hand under your ass, dragging you deeper into his heavy strokes and you cry out.  

He’s always hated the echo in this place.  But hearing the sound of your voice calling his name echoing off the walls is an entirely different story.  It lights a fire inside of him -- making him move faster, harder -- desperate to hear it again.

“Namjoon -- “ your hands claw at his back as you cling to him.  “ -- I think, I think I’m going -- “

“You will,” he rasps, when you lose all hope of finishing that thought.

He sinks his thumb into his mouth before dragging it down to rub slow circles across your aching clit and you clamp down around him in response.  He chokes on his own moan, summoning just enough control to keep himself from exploding inside of you.

But then you start to unravel.

In those final moments, you feel hotter and wetter -- begging brokenly in his ear for some kind of relief.  Namjoon holds off until the tight grip of your cunt starts to pulse around him and then he gives in.  He comes so hard his vision darkens before it comes back.  

Then he collapses on top of you, panting and wrecked.

You press a kiss into his neck and rake your nails gently up and down his back.

**********************

Namjoon wakes up alone.

He should be used to the feeling by now, but after last night -- after you -- he can’t help but feel disappointed.  

He shoves a hand through his hair, slips into a pair of lounge pants and heads to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Then he stops in his tracks.

You are standing in front of the massive window in his living room, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts, holding a mug of coffee in one hand.  You sip it thoughtfully and look out over the city, seemingly unaware of his presence.

So Namjoon just stands there for a while, admiring your long legs and soft skin and the dark hair that spills down your back.  Admiring the way you make this place bearable just by existing in it.

“Thought you left me,” he says quietly, and you startle out of your reverie at the sound of his voice.

“I did leave you,” you feign a serious expression, nodding at your mug. “For this. Thought you’d understand.”

“That I do,” he laughs, padding across the room to join you at the window.  

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and you smile up at him.

“What are you thinking about this morning?” Namjoon presses quietly. “What’s on your mind?”

You sip your coffee and look back out the window before answering.

“I was just thinking about the day I came to ask for you a job,” you confess.  “How afraid and alone I felt back then.”

Namjoon can still remember how he felt seeing you walk into his office after all those years.   It certainly wasn’t afraid or alone and his chest squeezes at your admission.

“And now?”

“Now I feel …” you trail off as you turn back to look up at him.  “... like everything’s going to be okay.”

He stares back at you, suddenly overwhelmed by how good this feels.  

By how good it feels to be needed by you.  

By how you in his shirt, in his apartment, in his life, makes total sense.  

By how it feels like you belong here.

With him.

“You’re right, Jagiya.  Everything is going to be okay,” Namjoon vows, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair.   “Because I’m going to make sure of it.”

**************************

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

Amsaja: Lioness

Jaegyueo: Jaguar

TAG LIST:

@prettyguardiansailormin​​​ @barbikatherine​ @55west81st​ @laabellaavitaa21​ @codeinebelle​ @jalexad​ @trynavibewhileicry​ @poohsaidhi​​ @eltrain80​​ @bluewhale52​​ @sahmfanficbts​​ @midnighttifa​​ @krystle1990​​ @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​​ @hauntedlilies​​ @kjooniesbabygirl​​ @unicorn5090​​ @parkjimin-persona​​ @kosicastairs​​ @julia-pacheco-blog​​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​ @katbonv​​ @sunkissed725​​ @yourdaydreamerfan​​

[juniorgman187]

Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Reid Fic)

*MY GIF

Summary: Despite her engagement to someone else, Spencer grapples with the reality that he’s in love with SSA Reader when he sees her in her wedding dress.

A/N: I am so fucking proud of Spencer’s speech that I wrote.  Playlist: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe + FINNEAS This song hurts so good :,) Category: Fluffy happy ending! Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: possible unrequited love, soft angst  Word Count: 6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Call it a superpower or a sixth sense, but I had this inexplicable, preternatural ability to detect when we weren’t heading in the right direction - a skill unaffected by even shut eyes or the deepest slumber. 

It seems as though after all these years of being (y/n)’s passenger, my body has developed a survival adaptation in order to offer her guidance before she would even have to ask, or worse - lower her pride and admit she’s lost! 

With as hard-headed as she is, she’d sooner drive us to Timbuktu before asking me for help.

I was half-asleep when I peeked through one half-lidded eye to observe where we were only to see she blew right by Gregory Boulevard when she should’ve turned left on it. 

“Um, you should make a u-turn at this next light,” I gently advised her before returning my head to its previous position perched on my hand. I closed my eyes again with the presumption she would follow my navigation and make a u-turn, but when I didn’t feel the car change course, I opened them to see that she blew right past the stoplight, too. 

“Hey, my apartment’s that way.” I gestured behind us while looking at her for the first time, catching a smug look on her face. That’s when I knew I was in for it. “Where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see.” 

“You know I don’t like surprises,” I grumbled, slumping back into my seat with partially renewed energy. Her little antics never failed to get my heart racing. I never knew whether to expect a sweet sunset or a sea of snakes when it came to her. She was that polarizing. “Can I at least get a hint?” I egged on, considering she had yet to even reply to my first statement. 

She was completely unfazed by my pleading. She didn’t even peel her eyes away from the road - that’s how little attention she thought I deserved. “Mmm depends. What’s the magic word?” 

This blatant tease was successfully getting a rise out of me. “Pleaseee,” I dragged out the word as if it would do me any good to let her hear it for longer, but in reality, she just liked to hear me beg. 

She took a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth, a chupse, to express her displeasure before saying, “Ooh tough luck. The magic word was actually mushroom, but nice try.” 

A mirthless chuckle escaped me for willingly falling for her tricks despite knowing she’d pull something just like that. This girl was the bane of my existence, but at least she still rewarded me with a hint anyway. 

“Your hint is …” While pondering what hint to give me, her eyes traveled to the side, away from the road long enough to make my heart palpitate in a “if-she-doesn’t-pay-attention-to-the-road, we’re-both-gonna-die” kind of way. 

“... something old.” 

Again, she tore her eyes away from the road so she could register my reaction, but truthfully, I didn’t have one. I had no idea what that hint meant. Or rather I had too many ideas, far too many to limit to just one. 

She could’ve been talking about the age of a location, the history of a place, the vintage appearance of something - virtually anything.

“There’s an infinite amount of possibilities about what that could mean,” I argued. “If you actually want me to guess, you’ll have to give me something more.” 

As expected, she was not a fan of my whining and simply rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, stop complaining and use that big brain of yours. I’m sure you’ll figure it out before we even get there.” 

Although there was a high probability she was right that I could’ve solved it by myself, it was more enticing to feed off of what she could give me. “What if I ask you ‘yes or no’ questions?”

The gears in her head were turning as she weighed the pros and cons of humoring my offer. “You better ask some good questions then,” was her answer, which was the long way of saying yes. 

“Is this ‘something old’ an object?”

She hesitated, then decided on, “No.” So I took that as maybe. 

“Is this ‘something old’ a place?” 

There was no indecision with this answer. “No.” 

“Is this ‘something old’ as in appearance?” 

Again, a partial hesitation, but still ultimately a, “No.”

Realizing I pretty much exhausted the tangible, I settled for something more abstract. “Is this ‘something old’ a concept?”

“Yes, you could say that.” 

Her answer would prove to be redundant, as just seconds after we would arrive at our mystery destination. 

Ellie’s Bridal Boutique. 

“Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue.” I recited to myself under my breath when I finally unearthed the meaning. The rhyme was a wedding tradition that referred to the things a bride is supposed to wear on her wedding day that’s meant to provide protection and prosperity for the new couple - a superstition.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” She mimicked the sound of a winning buzzer. “And you are going to be my something old.” 

A short chuckle left me as I stepped out of the car. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do - wear me?” I jested. 

“Well you are a very pretty boy, but I don’t know if you’re pretty enough to wear down the aisle.” 

“So then how am I going to be your something old? I’m only two years older than you.” 

She stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk to reach for my hand. I’d be lying if I said the chilling warmth of it didn’t make my breath hitch. My eyes fell to where our bodies met, but they rose to look at her again when she finally spoke. 

“You’re the very first person I met when I started working in the BAU, which makes you my oldest friend on the team, and since you were the first one that saw me, I wanted you to be the first one that saw me in my dress, too.” 

I was already aware that she’d picked out her wedding gown months before, so this appointment couldn’t have been anything more than an alteration update. The only reason I knew that, besides the obvious, was because I could still remember with perfect clarity the morning she came into work after her fitting. She marched right up to my desk to wave a picture of her in the garment right in my face. It wasn’t until I drew back with my head that I could see the image clearly. The dress, while incredibly stunning on her, ‘didn’t fit right’ - her words, not mine. 

“But that’s not how it’s actually gonna look on me. I asked them to take in the waist, change the neckline, and alter the length.” She vividly described to me, letting her finger run over the digital photo of the dress as she spoke. “Do you see what I mean?”

I lied when I said, “Yeah, I do,” because really, I didn’t need her to describe the details to me - I could already see the vision. Even if the dress was the wrong color, length, and ‘poofiness,’ I’d still think she’d look lovely. 

It was my only hope that her future husband would think so, too. 

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here for my alteration with Reagan at 4.” Just as quickly as she introduced herself to the receptionist, she was being whisked away by an older woman who seemed to have recognized her. 

“Oh, (y/n)! It’s so good to see you again! Come, come, your dress is ready. I just know you’ll love it.” 

Before she slipped out of my vision completely, (y/n) turned around to address me. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just wait here.” 

I raised my hand in the air to give a short acknowledgment goodbye and followed her instruction to sit in the chair that lied directly in front of a circular raised platform. 

“Are you the groom?” A soft voice from beside me suddenly asked. I looked up to see it was the receptionist holding a tray with a glass of champagne. 

“Oh, I’m okay thank you,” I denied the alcohol with a shake of my head. “And no, no I’m not. Just an … an old friend.” Again, her words, not mine. 

It would come as a surprise to both me and you that with as much as I know about the world, I had no idea how long this would take before I saw her again. With my estimates, it should take maybe fifteen minutes maximum before she walked out in her dress, but who knows? It’s (y/n) after all. She runs on her own clock. The sun rises and sets on her. 

At least in my world it does. 

By around minute 17, I realized my estimates were way off and there was no way she’d be coming out any time soon, so with all that I could do in that store having been done already, the only thing left for me to do was read. Nothing of quality, though. Just those frivolous bridal magazines on the coffee table beside me. I didn’t even want to think about the germs and bacteria that were harboring on these reading materials, but if it meant it’d cure my boredom then perhaps the contraction of microbes would be worth it. 

To say I wasn’t well-versed in fashion would be an understatement and reading the subscriptions only emphasized that further. To put it in perspective, you could style my future bride in a medieval frock and it wouldn’t discourage me whatsoever because I simply have no understanding of what a ‘good’ wedding dress is, therefore, I cannot make an accurate comparison. 

Take, for example, the dress on page 17 of Modern Bride. The model was donning a high neck, long sleeve creme satin dress. I thought it looked quite nice and classic, but the excerpt described it as totally out of style and too old - a faux pas.

But when comparing that dress to the gown on page 24 of The Bride’s Guide, I couldn’t spot a single difference between the two, yet this passage was written in complete adoration. “This dress is vintage done right,” said the article. But to me - they were exactly identical! What was wrong with the first one?

Maybe it was a good thing grooms weren’t allowed to help pick wedding dresses because if I had to assist my bride in picking her’s, then, of course, it would be bad luck! I’d probably pick something utterly horrendous!

I had to admit it was slightly humiliating to confront my incompetence relating to wedding dresses, so before my self-esteem plummeted any further, I set the magazines back in their rightful place on the coffee table so they could once again be what they were always intended for - extraneous decor. 

With a flick of my watch, I noted the period of waiting had only increased by three minutes. Again, I had yet to master the art of wedding garment fittings, but how was 20 minutes not enough time to put a dress on? However, unlike my better half, I had (relatively) zero problems admitting my ignorance, whereas she’d rather drive us off a cliff or into a lake before letting me know she was lost. 

In surrender to my lack of knowledge, I rose from my seat to approach the receptionist and ask if she had a more accurate estimate for how long it would be until I saw (y/n) again. But as it turns out, any estimate she might’ve been able to tell me would’ve been completely wrong for she wouldn’t have even been able to finish her answer before the aforementioned future bride entered the space behind me. 

Remember before when I said I had no gauges of good fashion to outrank a medieval frock? Well, I stand corrected. 

(Y/n) in her dress is what I will measure everyone against. And no one will ever compare. 

“Wow…” The word came out of my mouth before I could think to stop it. My tone was so honest that it scared me. “I’m - You’re …” I was at a total loss for words that I had to sit back down to hopefully regain some clarity. She laughed at my stupidity with a laugh so gentle, I couldn’t not laugh back. 

“That good, huh?” 

I wordlessly nodded while my mouth lied openly in waiting. But the right words never came out; there just weren’t any that could capture this vision of perfection in front of me. 

My mannerisms had clearly already given away the true level of my admiration, so in an effort to lessen the enormity of my obvious wonderment, I reluctantly broke my gaze away from the angel in white and picked up a magazine on the table to perfect the notion of nonchalance. 

“You look . . .” She impatiently waited for my addition, even doing the most adorable little twirl in her dress to give me the full view in the meantime. “Nice,” was the adjective I settled for, as it was such a thoughtless response that perhaps it would convince her that there weren’t a million thoughts on my mind. The most recurring one, and arguably the most troubling one being: I think I’m in love with you. 

“Nice?” She repeated like the word stung her tongue, more out of mock offense than earnest disappointment. “You’re reading your magazine upside down so it’s gotta be better than nice.”

I bashfully looked down to find that, sure enough, her words were true. The magazine was upside down and therefore a total revelation of just how ‘nice’ I really thought she looked.

I tried to hide my smile behind my knuckles as I pressed a fist to my lips, deciding on the most sincere compliment I could give her. 

“Nobody holds a candle to you, (y/n),” I nodded in affirmation. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

After saying so, I nonchalantly - well as nonchalantly as one could when caught slack-jawed and completely in awe - reoriented the catalog. Had I glanced up even a second later, I might not have caught her reaction to my words and the way they made her smile uncontrollably. I looked back down at the magazine with a smirk, giving it a brief flick to open up the pages all the way to me and parrot the motions one would make if they were actually reading.

We both knew I wasn’t though. 

It seemed I never left that wedding boutique because even as we arrived outside my apartment later that day, my mind was still there, stuck on the future bride in her gown.

“Earth to Spencer!” She waved her hand in front of me to grab my attention despite already having it. “We’re here!” She announced. Who was I kidding? She always had my attention. I only wish it didn’t take me this long to realize that the reason she was constantly at the front of my mind was that I loved her.

Nearly about to exit the car, the millionth and one thought rang in my head like a bell - wedding bells, if you will. 

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

At a tantalizingly slow speed, I released the doorknob and turned back towards her.

“...I love you.”

She furrowed her brows and shrugged with her mouth, forming a confused pout. “I love you, too, Reid?” She kind of laughed when she said it, so I knew she thought this was just a friend sending off a friend goodbye, but I couldn’t let her think that’s what I meant. 

“No, not like that.” I clarified with the utmost candor. “I’m in love with you.” I shook my head when I said it which, in any other context, might make you think I was lying, but the shake of my head was merely the physical manifestation of every bone in my body knowing I shouldn’t be saying this, but my heart still having the audacity to do it anyway. 

I confessed with that brutally honest tone again, the one so raw and vulnerable it leaves you nauseous and breathless all at once as you anxiously anticipate the other person’s response to your vulnerability. But I couldn’t even meet her eyes, I was too scared. Even if I had, they would’ve been vacant. Her spirit had vanished from her body, and in its departure left just the shell of a woman who was completely void of color. Her flushed face was a remnant of the shock that paralyzed her and it wouldn’t disappear even as I tried to bring her color back. 

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I wish I had better timing - trust me, I will beat myself up later for not saying it sooner. But I promise you, I am not trying to ruin things between you two and I would never actually try to stand in the way of your wedding - you have to believe me. I want you to be happy and if he’s what makes you happy, then I will live with that. I just had to tell you now because ... if you married him without ever knowing how I felt, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”

This was true - I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I hadn’t said anything - but now that I have - will she be able to forgive me?

Vacant stares turned into piercing glares that drove, what felt like, a thousand daggers right through my heart. She was looking at me as though I were a stranger - completely unrecognizable to her. 

(Y/n), it’s me. It’s Spencer. Don’t you remember me? My heart pleaded. I’m still the same guy I was before. I’m the first friend you made on the team, remember? I’m your something old. Please, please remember me. 

By the time I came to the woeful conclusion that she wouldn’t reply, at least not now, there was only one question weighing on my heart heavily enough to make me ask it before I left her car. 

“Would it have been better if I didn’t tell you?” 

My question stayed answerless even as I lingered at the door after getting out, waiting for one. I knew I should’ve closed it, but I couldn’t. In many ways, it would’ve been shutting the only open vessel to her, formally closing myself off from our friendship. The possibility of losing her as soon as I walked away was too real, and I wasn’t ready yet.

“Please, (y/n), talk to me.” It was a trending theme to have every word I spoke be underlined by this profound piteousness. “Say something.” Say anything.

“I ... I need to get home,” She quietly whimpered, practically begging me to let her go. Up until then, I didn’t want to, but I suddenly wished I had shut the door sooner so that I might not have had to hear the quiet addition, “To my fiancé.”

The color she was so void of in her face? It seems I must have recompensed, for not only was I crowned her something old that day, but I was also her something blue. 

_ _ _ 

If there were a guidebook on all the things to do as the love of your life’s wedding (to someone else) nears, I’d like to think I was following all the protocol. 

Since my not-so-subtle confession, I had yet to press the subject or force her for an answer to my final question, which I think she was thankful for. I also hadn’t plotted a giant scheme to ruin the wedding, nor did I have any intentions of doing so. 

For all intents and purposes, I was acting as a gentleman (who’s in love with you but whom you’re not marrying) ideally should.

You would think that after my big declaration, (y/n) would do everything in her power to avoid me. It’s what I would’ve done. But she’s no coward. That exact heart of gold I fell in love with made no exceptions. Because even after what I did, she still had it in her to extend her kindness to me. 

She’s stubborn like that, remember? 

And though she was showering me with a treatment I didn’t deserve, it still wasn’t enough for my greedy heart. 

The true pain lied in the pretending. Every day I would have to come to work and talk with her and laugh with her and smile with her - I would have to be her friend … pretending that was all that I wanted and nothing more. 

It was both a blessing and a curse that she was acting just as she always had with me. It may seem weird to have expected, nay - wanted - a different reaction from her, but I just wanted something. At least, if she was angry, then I would know what I said had some effect on her, but she was just so indifferent. Like what I said didn’t matter. 

It’s been said that there is a thin line between love and hatred. Hate and love both seem to be involved in the neural processing of what is sometimes referred to as the arousal effect of emotion - this is a technical term, so arousal can be negative. Scientists studying the physical nature of hate have found that some of the nervous circuits in the brain responsible for it are the same as those that are used during the feeling of romantic love – although love and hate appear to be polar opposites. Therefore, the same brain circuitry is involved in both extreme emotions. So, as strange as it may sound, if she didn’t love me, then I at least wanted her to hate me, just so I’d know she had any passion for me that matched my burning passion for her.

But as it turns out, she would never go on to display signs of hatred or love, for she never acted passive-aggressively, never gave me the silent treatment - nothing. Nope, she just acted as if it never happened. She went on with her life, essentially expecting me to do the same, but how could I carry on with life while she was still carrying half of my heart with her? 

It’s an impossible feat, that - to walk around with half a heart. And it’s one that has not gotten easier with time. If anything, time has made it worse, and the closer we got to the wedding, the more difficult it became for me to hold back. And with this exponential growth, it was only inevitable that the pinnacle of difficulty came right before the wedding. 

Before shit hit the fan, she arranged, or rather insisted, that I give a speech at the dinner rehearsal. That hadn’t changed, despite almost everything else having done so. Up until the minute I arrived at the venue, I could’ve recited that speech a million times, forwards and backwards, in my sleep, or even in Russian. But I lost any ability to form coherent thoughts from the second I laid eyes on her. 

As soon as I opened the door, she stood at the entrance to greet her guests, having taken a radiant form that I could only imagine would not pale in comparison to what she would look like tomorrow on her actual wedding day. That thought alone scared me shitless. 

If this is how beautiful she looked tonight and it was only just the rehearsal, how would I ever be able to resist her less than 24 hours from now when she would be marrying a man I could only dream of being half so lucky as?

“Spencer!” Familiar crinkles formed around her eyes as a result of her gigantic smile when she saw me and hugged me thereafter. Her embrace was strangely tighter and lasted for longer than usual, not that I was complaining, but I had to wonder if she was compensating for something. What’s that saying - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Was she killing me with kindness? That might’ve been wishful thinking though. Because the same flash of indifference I’d been dealt in recent times came back into her face and tone after hugging me. “You’re at table five with the rest of the team.” 

“Oh, thanks.”

That was it? Just a ‘Spencer!’ and then a nudge in the direction of my seat? No questions about my speech? No threatening comments to not say anything that would ruin the charade we’d been playing for months now? Had she forgotten I was even giving a speech?

“Oh, wait, Spencer!” I felt her hand on my shoulder before I heard her voice. “You left this in my car a couple months ago. I’ve been meaning to give it back to you, but I didn’t remember until today.” 

The first thing that raised a red flag was what she was saying. I’d left something in her car? That would imply that I’d forgotten something, and we both knew that wasn’t possible. But the second suspicious element was the matter of what she claimed I’d left behind. She was handing me a book with the back cover facing me. From the looks of it alone, it wasn’t mine. Clearly, it wasn’t mine. I knew every single book that resides on my shelves and this one has never once crossed them. That, on top of the new book smell and the lack of a wear in the spine, was enough to tell me that not only was this a book I’d never read nor was one to grace my bookshelf, but it was most certainly not one I would have left behind.

She was lying. 

She saw the realization dawn on me, but knowing I would mention it, her hand’s grip around my wrist, which I hadn’t noticed was even there in the first place, tightened, sending me a message. 

She knew I saw the deception. There were so many flaws in what she was saying, that she couldn’t have possibly been clueless of them. It was too easy. Or maybe that was by design. She wanted me to figure out it was a lie. But why?

What was she hiding?

The final thing to leave me when she did was her hand. In its place, it had left a a near perfect indentation in my sleeve. How flawlessly it sculpted to her hand told me just how tightly she was holding me. What was she trying to say?

That’s when I flipped the book over to see the cover. 

Can Love Happen Twice?

And right on the inside cover page was scribbled - in a handwriting so distinctive it could only belong to one person and one person alone - “Yes.” 

_ _ _ 

My heart was racing the entire night as I anxiously awaited for the moment to give my speech. Nothing seemed to ease the tension. Not a sip of water, not the loosening of my tie, not the self-soothing bouncing of my leg. But all it took, all it took was one glance from her and suddenly, the storm within me had settled. 

“Next up we have a speech from Spencer Reid!” 

I rose from my seat like a floundering mess, as to be expected, because how can you possibly catch your bearings as you’re about to make a speech to a room full of people?

“H-hi there. I’m Dr. Spen- I’m Spencer Reid. I’ve worked with (y/n) for several years now and - and so I, um, I wrote this speech for her, so, so I’m gonna read it to you all now,” My stammering had gotten the best of me, so before I could unravel into the mess I surely came off as right about now, I spun from my previous position facing the majority to facing only her. I needed to see her. I needed the reprieve of her eyes again, and she was happy to give it to me.

“(Y/n), from the moment I met you, I thought who is she? And I mean that quite literally because I had no idea who you were and why you were there,” Laughter from the crowd erupted, but her laugh was the only one that mattered to me. “But also because there was just something about you that told me I needed to talk to you. I had no idea what that instinct to strike up a conversation with you would lead to, but I trust my gut a little more now because that very intuition gave me one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” 

To my words, an endeared pout formed on her face. She was touched, and I was glad. 

“Over the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years we’ve spent together, I have enjoyed every single measure of time with you. You have taught me more about life and myself than I could have ever learned otherwise - which says a lot,” This once again brought her to laughter. “So I thank you for that, because without you, there would be no one to tell my campfire stories to, there would be no one who could recite Jung or Freud with me, and there would be no one I’d have to correct when they drive down the wrong path,” My own chuckle cut my sentence short. 

“Life with you has simply been made better, and my only hope is that tomorrow, as you get married, you too, will experience that eternal bliss with which you have surely bestowed upon everyone who has had the privilege of knowing you.”

By now both of us were on the verge of tears, hers more apparent than mine as she used the palm of her hand to stifle her sniffles. 

“There is so much more I could say about how great you are, but your favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald, has said it best. ‘She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful’,” A tear ran down her cheek as my own eyes welled up beyond their means. “So to you both - may you have a life as beautiful as the bride.”

Even if that life isn’t with me. 

I tuned out all the clapping and cheering, and set my focus solely on her, giving me full liberty to see the way she rose from her chair and escaped the room. Not even shock could paralyze me or stop me from running after her. I sprung so fast into action, which required the maximum amount adrenaline, although I could not credit my speed to the rush, but it was more the exclusive motivation to find her that powered me. The entire time I kept calling out her name as I frantically chased her out of the venue. 

“Spencer.” 

I didn’t even see her there at first, probably because I was half-expecting her to be jumping into a cab or running away from me some more when I found her, but just as before, she made it too easy for me. She was waiting for me, standing there in no spectacular fashion. 

The wind was blowing strands of hair in her face that were not so large so that I couldn’t see the red rings around her eyes that were caused by the irritation and formation of tears. She was simply staring back at me with this look in her eyes as if she wanted to say something. 

In the silence, I could still appreciate how astonishingly gorgeous she was. How badly I wanted her. I would’ve whisked her away and taken her as mine if I knew it would make her happy. But that’s just it - I didn’t know. 

I needed her to say it. So say it. 

Say it, darling. 

Spoken through a congested voice (which spoke volumes in reality because of the mere revelation that she was indeed crying) was the plainest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she vanished back into the restaurant, leaving me to my devices on the sidewalk. 

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. 

_ _ _ 

Perhaps the false confidence in my speech or what little she had to say to me after it or even the hidden message in the book got to my head, but whatever it was, I was feeling suspiciously alright. Luckily, that feeling didn’t deviate even as I made my way to the church. 

Upon arrival, everything seemed exactly as it should be, so consequently the lack of something out of place did not adequately denote what lied just beyond those doors. Or should I say what didn’t?

Much to my mortification, it was a completely empty church. Every pew, though decorated for a wedding, was uninhabited and showed no indications of having been such recently. As I walked further in, the door automatically shut behind me with a loud bang. It would’ve shocked me more had something else not caught my attention already. 

It was (y/n), standing at the altar … completely alone. 

Suddenly, it felt like I’d been drawn in by this invisible gravity, which was now floating me down the aisle. My feet could not carry me to her fast enough.

I was sure this was some kind of dream simply by the way the light gleamed through the stained glass windows, casting banners of golden luminescence on her. It was as if heaven itself had come down with the specific delegation to illuminate the vision of one of its fallen angels. 

“(Y/n)?” My voice reverberated throughout the chapel, ricocheting off the high, painted ceilings and back to me. “Where is everyone?” 

It wasn’t until I reached a certain point in the middle aisle, that I realized her veil had been covering her face this entire time. The angel in white only turned more heavenly when she flipped the veil backward, revealing herself to me. 

It took her a moment to answer, but it was her head that answered first before her mouth did. She began shaking her head slowly, followed by a short, unequivocal, “No.”

As you might imagine, I was dumbfounded. “No?” That answer wouldn’t have made sense in the context of what I had previously asked. 

“No.” She repeated, with somehow even more definitiveness. I decided it was best to stay silent and wait for her explanation. 

“No, it wouldn’t have been better if you didn’t tell me.” 

There was my answer I’d been searching for. 

“God, Spencer - what took you so long?” 

From the breathlessness and the rushed cadence of her voice, I knew precisely what was coming next. She instantaneously abandoned the bouquet she’d been clutching in favor of her hands’ ability to pull me in. The pressure on my fragile skull when our frenzied lips finally met was not a punishment so much as it was a reward. And just as we began to find our rhythm, I slid my hand into her hair, which I began to regret when I realized just how much time and effort probably went into its structuring. I pulled away the moment I felt a carefully placed pin lodged within her hair slip between my fingers. 

True, for a moment I was unable to open my eyes afterward from the sheer elation I was experiencing, but as I came to, I found myself looking at the hairpin I’d accidentally extracted from her curls, one that I could’ve sworn I’d seen a fellow coworker of ours donning in the past. 

“Is this -”

“Yep, it’s Penelope’s.” She admitted through the most debonair giggles. After giving her a quizzical, and only partially judgmental glance, she managed to blurt out, “What? Why are you looking at me like that? It was my ‘something borrowed’!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person 

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Don't nah to me.

NESTOR OCETEVA. ┃ MAYANS MC.

❝ request by @yourwonkywriter: Hi, Aurora, beautiful piece of art, my friend, my love, marry me and god bless your parents. Could I please request number 6 of the Random prompts list with Nestor (if that one isn’t taken, yet? Thank you💖✨

❝ request by @the-radical-venus: Hey!! I love the new prompts it was so hard to decide on one I'm so excited! Idk how I'm going to be able to wait until January, Ive been waiting everyday for each of your November prompts to come out so I've kinda sold you my soul at this point haha “Wanna like— I mean, if you're not busy… We could get lunch, maybe? Or even just a coffee, if you don't have a lot of time?” For nestor oceteva? Preferably him saying that line?

❝ prompts: “Nah”. “Don’t ‘nah’ to me”. / “Wanna like— I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch, maybe? Or even just a coffee, if you don’t have a lot of time?”

❝ words: about 800.

Gif credits to my lovely @sonsofeorl.

Stretching your arms over your head and uttering a soft pleased grunt when you feel your back gnashing, you continue your path to the kitchen. It's almost lunchtime, but you came last night too late from San Diego and you need a coffee urgently. It has been the first time in two months that you've been able to sleep for more than six hours, after finishing the period of exams at college. And it feels so good to sleep in your bed. Almost colliding with your big brother, as he steps out from the kitchen, he leaves a rushed kiss on your forehead before disappearing through the living room straight to his office. It's good to be back at home.

“Buenos días”. You yawn covering your mouth with a hand, once Nestor turns around.

“Buenos días”. He replies, noticing the fleeting shine in his dark eyes.

Puckering your lips squinting towards him, you grab a mug from the cupboard about to giggle somewhat ashamed. There's something in his smile that could kill you in a sight, making you feel a little nervous.

“Good sleep?”

“Yeah”. Nodding your chin, you pour some coffee to your delight, not waiting to take a sip from your cup.

You can't help but keep your eyes on his at all times, intrigued, figuring out what's going on inside his mind. Licking your top lip, you shake your head expecting some more words from him. Maybe, something about his thoughts right now. But Nestor is just staring at you, silent, like a freak.

“It's creepy what you're doing”. You whisper wrinkling your nose.

The head of security chuckles, resting his waist against the counter as he keeps his hands inside the pockets of his dark pants, slightly showing a pair of colored suspenders over the black shirt perfectly ironing. Nestor rubs the back of his head for a moment, before hiding his hand again. You know what it means. You know him ever since and, even if sometimes he's very quiet, you've learned to read his gestures throughout the years. He's nervous. His fingers are shaking. His palms are sweating. All from a second ago, when you've walked in.

“Wanna like— I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch, maybe? Or even just a coffee, if you don’t have a lot of time?”

For you, it's so cute the way he has to clean his throat pretending everything is going normal, that you feel your cheeks and the tip of your ears burning. Kissing your teeth, you look at the way Miguel has taken a minute before, considering if it'd be correct to date his best friend, the only man he trusts in. Nestor has liked you ever since, but you aren't sure if you should hear your heart or the last brain cell alive in your head.

“Like a date?” You raise an eyebrow interested in his reply, and because of that, you can see how he gulps a little jumpy.

“A da— date? Nah… Nah, nah, nah”. He's lying.

Standing up and taking the last sip from his mug, he leaves it inside the sink about to abort the mission and run away. The expression on him lets you know he has fucked up at the moment you haven't said yes, simply.

“Don't nah to me, Nestor”. You laugh inevitable at the grimace of horror, not finding any escape route when your brother appears again accompanied by Álvarez.

“You okay? Looks like you've seen a ghost, brother”. The older makes fun of him, watching how he loosens the neck of his shirt by undoing a button.

“Yeah, everything go— good”.

“What's your plan for today?” Your brother questions whilst grabbing a small bottle of water from the fridge, sounding very interested.

“I'm goin' on a date with Nestor”.

Oh, the pettiness. Silence filling the kitchen. Your brother lands his eyes on his best friend; confused, perplexed. Miguel must be thinking it's one of your jokes or something like that until he notices the sweat on Nestor's forehead. Marcus laughs breaks the tension installed around you, shaking his head as if it was the funniest thing he has heard in his life. The counselor has to abandon the place, almost choking on his own saliva, flooding the house with his laughter.

Miguel just sips water, moving his head from you to Nestor, like when he watches a tennis game.

“Qué desagradable”. He babbles, imagining stuff he doesn't have to imagine. “New nightmares unblocked… I don't want to know… a thing about it”.

Waving his free hand, your brother disappears again not adding another word to his sentence. Nestor is close to a heart attack, trying to say something in his defense. But he has collapsed.

“I'm free for lunch”.

“Uh?” He utters placing his attention back on you.

“Lunch. I'm free”. You repeat, conscious he hasn't heard you.

“Ok— okay. I, uh… I'll wait for you to… get ready”.

If you’ve liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @encounterthepast @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans @tclaerh @aurelie-celine @spideysimpossiblegirl

[wrenhyperfixates]

A Perfect Proposal

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: In which you propose to Loki. Warnings: Did anyone order fluff? Well, here you go :) A/N: Sending love out into the world for anyone who needs it. If you’re feeling down on yourself and like no one will want you (as so many of us oft think) just remember your real life Loki isn’t as far away as you think :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​ @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

“I love you, dearest,” Loki said, placing a small kiss to your temple.

“I love you, too,” you replied. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life and every moment after.”

“I feel the same way.”

Unfortunately, for as much as he insisted that, Loki had yet to take the next step in your relationship. He��d been your boyfriend for nearly two years now, and you were both madly in love with the other. You honestly had no doubts about that at this point, but it was frustrating being stuck where you were, nonetheless. There wasn’t even anything wrong with your relationship, per se, but it had been the same thing for a while now. The problem was that you loved him so much, you wanted more. Marriage. You’d talked about it a while ago, and he seemed open to the idea, but he had yet to pop the question. With all the hints you’d been leaving recently, you thought he would have asked by now. There was nothing else you could do short of asking him yourself.

“That’s it,” you gasped, jumping up from the couch. “Sorry, Loki. I gotta go. I’ll see you later, ok?”

You gave him a quick peck on the cheek before hurrying off to find your friends, leaving a very confused god in your wake. Zooming into another common room, you found them locked in concentration on an intense game of MarioKart.

“Bucky, Wanda, Nat. Important announcement,” you said to get their attention.

“One second,” Bucky shushed. “I’m about to win.”

“In your dreams,” Wanda snickered.

You impatiently tapped your foot as you let them finish the final lap, about ready to burst with excitement from your idea. Bucky and Wanda both groaned as Nat snatched the win at the last second.

“And that is how it’s done,” she said high-fiving you. “Now, what’s the emergency?”

“I’m going to propose to Loki.”

Wanda squealed in excitement and threw her arms around you in a hug. “That’s awesome! I’m proud of you!”

“Thanks, but before I can go through with this, I’m going to need a ring.”

And so, your little band of friends snuck out of the Tower and headed to a jewelry shop in the city. You were marveling at all the beautiful bands, as your friends argued over which one would be best. They all had different ideas about what you should get, though you didn’t really have a clue yourself. You were sure you would know it when you saw it.

“I’m telling you, this is the best one,” Bucky insisted, holding up an antique ring.

“Are you crazy? It’s so worn. No offense, but who would want that one?” Nat said.

“Steve would like it,” he murmured.

“How about this one?” Wanda called.

She pointed to a slim, ebony black band in the display case. It was understated, yet pretty. You considered the shiny trinket for a moment. It seemed like something Loki would like, and yet it wasn’t quite right. Continuing to walk through the store and take in the countless options, something in your peripheral vision caught your attention. Your head snapped back to it, and you let out an audible gasp.

“This is the one,” you declared.

Your friends came rushing over to see. The ring was fashioned as a gold, double-headed snake with emeralds as eyes. Far from a typical engagement ring, but you and your boyfriend weren’t much for conventional.

“We’ll take it,” you told the chipper store clerk.

To thank your friends for their help, you treated them to some coffee. As you sat in the cafe, you began to obsess over how to propose to Loki, though they insisted you were overthinking it. They were acting as if it were easy to speak from the heart. Then again, Loki was the love of your life, so maybe the right words would just flow out in the moment. Still, you’d like to have some kind of general outline.

Your planning was cut short by your ringtone, and you knew it must be Loki as he was the only one who bothered with calling anymore. Everyone else just texted, but he hadn’t quite figured out how to do that yet. You had to admit, his ineptitude with technology was kind of cute.

“Dearest, can you hear me?”  he asked. “Is this accursed magic box working?”

“Yes, my love,” you laughed. “It’s working just fine.”

“Very good. I was wondering if you would accompany me to dinner this evening. Say, 7:30, the balcony where we first met?”

“Absolutely.”

You remembered meeting Loki as if it had only just happened moments ago. You’d heard the stories of the monster he’d been at the Battle of New York, but standing there in the moonlight, he’d just looked fragile. You’d missed introductions earlier that day, having been on a mission, and approached with caution, careful not to rip him from his quiet reverie.

“Whatcha thinking about?” you’d asked softly, leaning next to him on the railing.

He’d looked slightly bewildered, whether because you snuck up on him or he didn’t know who you were, you still didn’t know.

“Nothing much, mortal,” he’d said.

“Well, that’s not very nice.”

“What?”

“Calling me ‘mortal.’”

“Well forgive me, but you did not introduce yourself,” he’d snapped back.

“Oh, well, yeah. Ok. I guess you’re right.”

You told him your name, and he said it softly, tasting the foreign word on his tongue. He tested it out a few times before coming to a conclusion.

“I like that name very much, mortal,” he teased.

“Haha very funny. How mature.”

Despite trying to sound angry, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d talked for a while after that and didn’t split up until the first light of morning began to fight through the darkness. Needless to say, you didn’t get much sleep, for even when you’d reached your room, your heart was pounding too wildly to allow you to slumber. You were too excited from meeting this handsome stranger. This god. Loki.

But that was then, and this was now. You walked out onto the balcony decorated with twinkle lights, candles, and your favorite flowers, the napkins and tablecloth your favorite color. You nervously checked to make sure you had the ring carefully tucked away one more time before going out to meet Loki in an embrace.

Throughout dinner, you mainly managed to keep your cool, but your leg would not stop bouncing with anxious energy. If Loki noticed, he didn’t say anything, though he did appear to be a little nervous himself, what with the constant fidgeting of hands and all.

Waving away your empty dishes with a flick of his hands, he began asking what you would like for dessert, but your mind was already far away. You jumped a little at the sound of Loki’s voice.

“I’m sorry, what was that again?” you asked, snapping back to the moment.

“Dearest, are you feeling alright?” he questioned, voice laced with concern. “You seem worried.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said as he raised an unconvinced eyebrow. It was now or never. “But I have something to say.”

“By all means, please share.”

“Ok,” you began, sucking in a sharp, anxious breath. “As you know, we’ve been dating for some time now, and I love you more than anything in this world. Even when we fight, that doesn’t change. Every moment I spend with you, I feel loved. Safe. Happy. You’ve been there for me in ways no one else in this world has. From the moment we met, something was screaming in my mind, ‘This is the one.’ It hasn’t stopped saying it since. I want to be with you, be there for you, for the rest of my life. Loki, my heart, my love, the light of my life, will you marry me?”

You got down onto one knee and popped open the ring box for a very stunned Loki. You gulped nervously as he seemed to regain his senses.

“Well, this is awkward,” he said. Your mind immediately jumped to worst-case scenario, assuming he was about to break up with you, but before you could speak your fears, Loki was also down on one knee, also opening a box. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

Now it was your turn to be stunned. You’d truly thought he was too hard on himself to ever actually ask for your hand in marriage, and you were elated that he loved you enough to work past that.

“In case the answer wasn’t obvious, yes. Yes with my whole heart!” you exclaimed, launching yourself into his arms.

Pulling back from him, you kissed him passionately. You slipped his ring onto his finger, and he did the same for you. It was exactly what you’d always hoped your engagement ring would look like. You beamed at Loki, completely happy.

“I love you, dearest,” he said.

“I love you, too. I can’t wait to be with you for the rest of my life.”

“And every moment after.”

[kpop-zone]

The Lady in Red | Jennie

Mafia AU | Meet messy/Strangers to lovers | “Are you sure this is legal?”

Warnings: blood, death, anxiety symptoms

Wordcount: 3,373

A/N: The gif is kinda flashy, please tell me if that’s a problem for someone, then I will switch it out!!

“I guess I don’t need to tell you that his infiltration into the ‘circle of trust’ was unsuccessful.”

Seungyeon chuckled sadly next to you and you turned around with a shaky sigh, not being able to look at your patched-up colleague in the hospital bed any longer.

“When will we finally manage to take them down?!”

You growled while angrily kicking the chair that was standing next to the door for the police officer that would have to be there 24/7 for safety reasons from now on.

“I’m starting to believe that we will never be able to. The Kim Clan isn’t the most powerful criminal organization in the city for no reason. Their network is bigger than we could have ever guessed when we started to investigate them and the mastermind behind all this seems to be a ghost. I mean we have no idea what The Lady in Red even looks like. Five years of thorough investigation and there are no clues about her, except that she has to be the most ruthless person on this planet considering that none of her subordinates dare to betray her...”

Seungyeon buried her face in her hands in defeat but you instantly shook your head. You couldn’t let The Lady in Red win; especially not after all the blood, sweat and tears that you had put into this case. You had become a detective to make this world a better place. You couldn’t let the biggest criminal of this city get away.

“Let’s wait till Jihoon wakes up. Maybe he remembers something.”

You tried to sound hopeful although you weren’t even sure whether Jihoon would wake up at all. You had found him in front of the police station this morning, drowning in his own blood after he had joined the Kim Clan almost a year ago to investigate undercover. He had been the great hope in your team. No other cop had ever managed to be a part of the clan for that long before, making you think that you had finally achieved a breakthrough. A foolish hope that made you feel like a failure now that you were standing in front of his hospital bed.

“Do you really believe that?”

Seungyeon replied doubtfully and you huffed in frustration. Of course, you didn’t believe that. With his injuries, you could be glad if Jihoon would ever be able to walk and talk again. But it was too hard to admit that you had hit another dead end; that Jihoon’s sacrifice had been in vain. Angrily, you clenched your fists and closed your eyes in order to calm down again, but it felt like you were riding a roller coaster. Your heart was beating out of your chest and your head was spinning, making you feel nauseous. You couldn’t bear to look at your half-dead friend any longer.

“I need to get out of here.”

You uttered breathlessly before bursting away. Blindly, you stumbled through the hallways, bumping into people left and right before eventually reaching the underground parking. You just needed to get away from those bright lights, the sterile smell, and the constant beeping of Jihoon’s heartrate monitor that seemed to be making fun of your obvious incapability to catch The Lady in Red. This was all your fault. If you were a better team leader, Jihoon would still be making his bad jokes that had always made night shifts more bearable in the past in some way or another. Tears immediately started to pool in your eyes when you thought about the possibility of never being able to hear your friend’s goofy laugh again that had managed to make everyone join in even when his joke had been terrible. What had you done? How could you have allowed him to go undercover?

In hopes that you could flee your bad conscience if you were only fast enough, you hastily unlocked your car before diving into the driver’s seat. It still seemed like your head was spinning in circles and the extreme ringing in your ears didn’t really increase your fitness to drive, but you didn’t hesitate a second before starting the engine and backing out of the parking space full speed.

You just needed to get away.

A loud collision, however, cut your escape short and forced your car to come to an abrupt halt, causing your body to be painfully pressed back into your seat by your seatbelt. For a second, you stared ahead dumbfounded as you tried to understand what had happened until a roaring voice managed to rip you out of your state of shock.

“You idiot!! Use your eyes!!”

A man yelled and you realized that you must have rammed another car. Frustrated, you huffed because your day really couldn’t get any worse before exiting the car reluctantly. A tall man dressed in a suit came rushing towards you and judging by the crimson color of his face, he seemed to be nearly exploding from anger. Subconsciously, you took a defensive stance, ready to parry off a punch in case that he would decide to physically attack you. Just before the man could reach you, however, a loud, high-pitched whistle suddenly made him stop. Like a well-behaved dog he froze and turned around to look at the source of the noise.

“Junho, where are your manners?”

A mysterious voice asked, and you tried to look past Junho in order to catch a glimpse of your savior. You could only see a pair of red high heels and slender legs emerging from the car that you had rammed before a breathtakingly beautiful woman eventually got out of it. Against your will, your eyes automatically started to scan her from head to toe and you had to stop your jaw from slacking. She was simply stunning. Something about her was mesmerizing although you didn’t know whether it was her piercing gaze that seemed to be sharper than a knife, the way she moved her body so gracefully or her clothes that screamed ‘rich’ to you. Of course, you had managed to damage the only car that cost more than your annual salary out of all the junk cars in this parking garage... Remorsefully, you looked to the floor when the woman walked closer to you, figuring that you should probably show respect to her as money usually equated power where you lived. As soon as she was standing in front of you, you opened your mouth to give the most heartfelt apology that you could come up with in order to save your own neck, but the sound of her voice put an end to your plan.

“Are you ok?”

The woman asked and to your surprise her voice wasn’t filled with anger or annoyance, but with concern instead. Confused, you looked up and you realized that her feline eyes appeared to be a lot softer now while scanning your face worriedly. Automatically, your hand reached up to touch your face and you discovered to your surprise that your cheeks were tear stained. In embarrassment, you quickly used your sleeve to wipe away the remainders of your breakdown just a few seconds ago and cleared your throat to sound more or less poised.

“Yes. I’m sorry for ramming your car. I’ve been incautious for a second.”

You pointed at your cars that were surrounded by bits of red, broken glass, but the woman didn’t avert her gaze from you.

“I don’t want you to worry about the cars right now. Are you sure you’re ok? That was one hell of a collision. Are you hurt?”

Her reaction caught you off guard and you stared at her speechlessly. Why wasn’t she yelling at you? Was she that rich that she didn’t even care about her car anymore?

“I-I...yeah...I’m fine.”

You stammered, causing you to facepalm yourself inwardly. It seemed like you were trying to do everything in your power to prove that you were a complete idiot.

“I’m glad to hear that. I was worried for a second.”

The woman smiled softly, causing you to feel weak in your knees. If she would continue looking at you like that, you could not be held responsible for whatever rash action of yours it would cause. A blush started to spread in your cheeks as the two of you simply stared at each other and you frantically tried to come up with something smart to say in order to save your face. Once again, however, the woman beat you to it.

“I’m Jennie by the way.”

She introduced herself while holding out her hand and you quickly wiped your right palm on your pants just in case that it was as sweaty as it felt.

“I’m Y/N.”

You shook her hand, feeling how the touch caused a tingling feeling in your stomach. Embarrassed, you wanted to pull away again, but Jennie kept holding on to your hand a little longer before allowing you to loosen your grasp.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope that we’re not the reason for you to be late to something, you seemed to be in a hurry earlier.”

For the first time, Jennie averted her gaze from you to assess the scene of the crash before calmly looking back at you as if her multimillion won car wasn’t damaged. You expected her to finally scold you for your lack of concentration that had caused this accident, but Jennie didn’t seem to blame you for anything. Instead, she patiently waited for you to reply to her assumption, so you quickly shook your head.

“No, don’t worry. I don’t need to be anywhere. I just...”

You trailed off because you didn’t know how to finish your sentence. I just needed to get away, because it’s my fault that my friend is probably dying, and I couldn’t bear to look at him anymore? It wasn’t like you could blindside a stranger with a confession like that. Your head immediately started spinning again when you thought about Jihoon and your eyes roamed around the parking garage as you thought about your answer before focusing on Jennie again. As soon as your eyes met, you felt how her serenity had a soothing effect on you and a sense of calmness spread from your chest to your whole body. Somehow her intense yet gentle gaze seemed to draw you under her spell, and you opened your mouth without even being aware of it.

“I just had a really bad day because my friend was hospitalized because of me.”

You blurted out, feeling how tears immediately started to pool in your eyes. Ashamed you turned your head to the side to hide your emotions, but a sensation on your arm caused your gaze to dart forward again. Jennie had reached out to you and was now patting your arm encouragingly.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N. But I’m sure your friend wouldn’t want you to torment yourself. I don’t know what you did, but you don’t seem like you would have wanted your friend to be hospitalized.”

She tried to cheer you up and you nodded hesitantly. She was right. Jihoon wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for what had happened. He was a dedicated detective and it had been his decision to go undercover.

“I-I think you might me right... Thank you.”

You stammered perplexed, wondering how it had been possible for Jennie to calm you down that fast. You loved whatever she was doing to you though and you sighed in relief when your head started to feel steady again, causing Jennie to smile at you widely, seeming to be genuinely happy that she had been able to help you.

“Well, now that this is settled, let’s take care of this mess?”

Jennie giggled while pointing at your cars.

“I feel very guilty for this accident. Junho was driving too fast; you couldn’t have braked in time. Please, let me invite you for a coffee to apologize and we can discuss how we want to handle the costs.”

She continued and your eyes widened in shock. This was not how you remembered the accident; it had definitely been your fault. You simply couldn’t steal any more of Jennie’s time after causing her so much trouble, even if you wouldn’t mind talking with her all day long.

“Aren’t you here to visit someone?”

You asked hesitantly, not wanting to be the reason for her to miss visiting hours.

“Ah yes. I’ve been very unsatisfied with the way how one of my dear friends has been... taken care of. So I came here today to do it myself. Some jobs are better done by yourself, you know? But I’m confident that Junho will be able to get the job done as efficiently as I would have done, right?”

Jennie looked at Junho who had grimly stood at the side till now and simply nodded in response. Satisfied, Jennie grinned before giving you her attention again and wordlessly asking you with a slight movement of her head to agree to her offer. Not being able to resist her charms, you sighed in defeat and locked your car again.

“Ok fine, one coffee.”

You agreed, causing Jennie’s eyes to glint in excitement.

“Great! Junho, go park the car and then go upstairs. I know that you will take proper care of my friend. I don’t want any more...complications. I want everything to be clean and neat. Let’s give my friend what he deserves.”

Jennie smiled sweetly and you felt your heart flutter. It was endearing to see how much she seemed to care about her friend. Happily, you looked at her before following her back into the building to grab a coffee in the little café for visitors on the first floor. It didn’t even need you a minute to figure out that Jennie apparently was a master of distraction. The way she talked was simply captivating and you almost didn’t think about Jihoon at all. Your conversation flowed with ease right from the start and it seemed like you had known each other for years already. Together you sat down at a table, each with a steaming hot cup of coffee in your hands and Jennie immediately propped up her elbow on the table to rest her head on her hand in order to look at you attentively.

“So what do you do for a living?”

She asked curiously and you straightened up proudly. You loved your job and it made you really happy to talk about it.

“I’m a detective.”

You stated, causing Jennie’s expression to change like expected. Most people were impressed when they heard that you were a detective and wanted to know more about your work.

“A detective? Wow. What kind of cases do you work on? Is your job as exciting as in K-dramas or is the movie industry just lying?”

Jennie raised one eyebrow suspiciously and you giggled in response.

“Well, I’m afraid my job is not quite as spectacular as in K-dramas, but there are definitely more boring jobs. Right now, I’m working on a really interesting case for example. We’re investigating the Kim clan; you might have read about it in the news maybe. It’s a huge criminal organization with a ruthless leader. We only call her The Lady in Red.”

You started to chat, feeling how you suddenly had the urge to talk about all your built-up frustration.

“The Lady in Red?”

An amused smile played on Jennie’s lips as she curiously tilted her head to the side, and you chuckled.

“Yes. We don’t know a lot about the leader, not even her name. But over the past years we have accumulated some bits of information about her. We’ve managed to catch some of the criminals that worked with her and although none of them ever betrayed her, they revealed little details. For example, we know that she often could be found wearing red lipstick or a red trench coat. And in combination with the trail of blood that she leaves all over the city, we eventually started calling her The Lady in Red.”

You felt a little embarrassed to admit the ridiculous nickname that you had given a serial killer, but Jennie seemed to be very intrigued by your story.

“Is this top-secret information? I mean, can you even tell me all this? Are you sure this is legal?”

She joked, causing you to laugh off your embarrassment.

“As long as you’re not a journalist...”

You narrowed your eyes to fake mistrust and Jennie put on a serious face.

“No, don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me, I promise. I’m just a simple businesswoman, not a journalist. I own a little company and try my best to survive.”

She crossed her fingers to underline her statement, causing both of you to crack up. After calming down again though, you had the urge to know more about this seemingly perfect woman in front of you. Considering her expensive clothes and car, you doubted that her company was as little as she described it and you were genuinely interested in learning what it took to get all the way to the top of the food chain.

“You own a business? That’s impressive! What kind of business?“

You asked, but you shouldn’t get to hear her answer right away. The moment Jennie inhaled to start telling you about her life story, the screens of both of your phones on the table suddenly lit up, indicating that you had gotten a message.

“Excuse me.”

You excused your bad table manners before picking up your phone to check the incoming message because you were technically still on duty and obliged to be reachable. Unless someone had been murdered, however, you didn’t plan on working today after the events of this morning, so you simply wanted to skim the message before giving Jennie all your attention again. The content of the text message was very short and comprehensible at a glance though, managing to instantly knock the air out of your lungs. As if you couldn’t trust your eyes, you read the text over and over again in disbelief, hoping that it’s meaning would change eventually. But the cold, harsh words stayed and mercilessly slapped you in the face.

Jihoon is dead

The three words were simple, but that didn’t make their impact any less destructive. An intense pressure seemed to crush your chest and your eyes started to burn immediately. How could this be? How could he have died so quickly? He had been stable when you had seen him just a little over half an hour ago. Helplessly, you looked at Jennie who was smiling at her phone before meeting your eyes. Her expression changed in a split second and she was quick to leap to her feet to walk over to you.

“He’s dead.”

You managed to choke out before a loud sob tore from your throat as your tears began to fall in a rapid pace. Without hesitation, Jennie wrapped her arms around you to pull you against her body and you clung to her in need for comfort while your whole body shook violently.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Jennie said on a loop while rubbing your back in circles, attempting to get you to calm down again. Her gentle touch and soothing voice prevented you from completely breaking down and you tried to remember her words from earlier. I’m sure your friend wouldn’t want you to torment yourself. You repeated this simple statement over and over again in your head to allay the weight of the guilt that was pressing down on you. No matter how much you tried though, you weren’t able to completely erase the ugly voice in your head that told you that this was all your fault. Nevertheless, you were glad that you had Jennie by your side right now. You hoped that her serenity would manage to save you once more, so you held on tighter to her in an attempt to allow her strength to prevent the darkness in your head to seize you.

Who would have thought that joy and sorrow could be so close together?

[spxllcxstxr]

Inked • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi! Could I request a Soulmate AU with Sirius please? Marauders era with matching tattoos. No rush and thank you 🌹🖤 — @fific7

Summary: Mary is determined to find your soulmate and not even an oncoming storm will stop her. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: some tattoo talk?, rain, thunder, I guess hints/implied bullying, Peter makes an appearance but like he’s not a key part and he’s not like bad or anything

Word Count: 2.3k

A.N: This is the kind of star I’m envisioning for your soulmark (just not yellow) I actually never specify the color, so you can imagine any color you want. This took me like a week to write for some reason. But I like how it turned out. Hopefully you guys do too! Love you all ❤️

****

No one ever told you that soulmarks tingled.

When the eight pointed star seared itself into the flesh of the inside of your left elbow at age sixteen, you thought that was it. You thought that it would just sit there innocently to the point where it wouldn’t cross your mind every second of every day, but Merlin were you wrong.

The prickling of the mark was constant, like pins and needles jabbing relentlessly into your arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, it was just an obnoxious and infuriating reminder that you still haven’t found your soulmate.

Hogwarts was practically the place for the vast majority of witches and wizards to find their soulmate, as it was basically the only topic discussed amongst the sixth and seventh years.

Honestly, you just wanted your mark to stop its incessant tingling to the point where you wouldn’t mind anyone being your soulmate. You’ve never heard any complaints from your friends who had already found their true loves, so you assume that the sensation stops eventually.

But you were tired of scratching at your arm making it look like you had some weird sort of flesh eating disease. It was unflattering and highly inconvenient.

Sure, you could run around like a headless hippogriff with your sleeve rolled up asking everyone you encounter if they’ve seen another person with that identical mark, but that’s not romantic. And you wanted romantic, Merlin damn it.

Plus, imagine the burn of embarrassment that would overtake your entire being if no one shared your soulmark. You shudder at the mere thought.

So, you learn to live with it.

You almost want to rip your arm off when it gets particularly bad while studying or trying to get the perfect measurement for your potion, but after a full year you’re almost used to it.

You’re used to how often your friends would gush about their own soulmates and their constant questions about why you’re still single as well.

Mary MacDonald, one of your best friends, had already found her soulmate, some boy from Beauxbatons that sent her too many Howlers during breakfast, but they loved each other, so who were you to complain?

But ever since she found hers, she’s been pretty determined to seek out yours. Even getting her boyfriend to ask around his own school. You can never show your face around Beauxbatons and that’s final.

She’ll make you sit around the courtyard, pretending to read a book, while she scans the arms of the many crowds in search of your star. Mary tries to walk in on top secret Quidditch practices to get a glimpse of any rolled up sleeves, but so far, no good.

That’s really the only reason she’s dragging you down to the Black Lake even though dark grey clouds are hanging heavy in the sky.

“Mary!” You huff as she drags you down the grassy hills, the smell of rain thick in the air. “I know what you’re doing, I’m not daft, y’know.”

Her hand tightens around yours as she starts to feel you resist.

“What I’m doing? (Y/n), it’s a nice day to just hang out at the lake!” Mary cries, the lie hidden well if she wasn’t your best friend.

“Mary it’s about to torrential downpour.” You scoff.

“I thought you liked the rain.” She shrugs innocently, the sound of weeds getting crushed beneath your school shoes loud in your ears.

“Mary, my soulmate might not even be at Hogwarts!” You exclaim, trying to get out of this whole situation. You could be curled up by the fire with a sugar quill, but no, why would Mary let you have some peace and quiet? “They might be older or younger than me—“

“Well we won’t know that, will we, until we check everyone in our year first.” She insists.

The deep murky water is in sight, a few people are lazily lounging around the water’s edge. Like they haven’t even noticed the rain clouds overhead.

“You’re obsessed.” You sigh, finally stopping your attempts to wriggle away from her.

“It’s because I love you.” She smiles sweetly at you, cheeks pushed high, obscuring her dark eyes.

You continue to rub the inside of your arm against the side of your abdomen, attempting to find some sort of relief. The scratchy fabric of your white button down against your grey vest is probably the most effective. The closer to the bank you get, the better you’re able to make out the figures.

The owner of the vibrant red hair was obviously Lily, one of Mary’s friends, and also the more sensible of the group considering her coat was tightly wrapped around her. She’s in a somewhat similar situation as you—she hasn’t shown her soulmark to anyone. However, if what Mary drunkenly told you one night is true, it matches James Potter’s to a tee. Poor her.

Peter was also there, kicking rocks around and chuckling at whatever story Lily was telling them. His Gryffindor jumper is a little short on him while his slacks are a little long, mud dirtying the hem of them. As far as you know, he doesn’t even have a soulmark. It’s not uncommon or something to be ashamed of, but ever since certain people found out, it’s been quite the issue. Sure the infamous Marauders took care of the situation the best they could, but the damage was already done.

The last person was obviously Sirius, you could tell by the way he has his wand situated in his bun. He was closer to the water, picking up flat stones to skip across. His bark like laugh echoing across the space. You and Mary weren’t too far from the group now, so you could tell that the top two buttons of his dress shirt were popped open. Sirius Black’s soulmark was another mystery. He seems like the type to brag about something as important as a soulmark, but as far as you know, only James, Remus, and Peter were privy to that sort of information.

“Hey guys!” Lily perks up, waving at the two of you.

You smile and wave at her, but as Mary stops and chat, you gravitate closer to Peter and Sirius.

“So where are the other two?” You ask, watching as his stone skips across the water, finally ending with a satisfying plunk!

Sirius turns to face you, a few loose strands framing his face, blowing slightly in the wind.

“Detention.” He remarks casually, lazily trying to tame his curls.

“And you two aren’t?”

Peter shakes his head enthusiastically, blond hair bobbing around. “Sirius and I managed to escape before Slughorn lost it.”

“Hey Pete!” You hear Mary call from behind you. “Don’t you wanna know what you missed in Muggle Studies?”

“Shit, yeah.” Peter bounds over to where Lily and Mary are sitting, leaving you and Sirius alone. Your feet shuffle at the predicament.

You slowly inch closer to Sirius, the large distance awkward without a third person. You’re forced to hold down a wince as your mark prickles almost painfully.

Sirius’ eyes are almost the same shade as the clouds in the sky as they pierce into yours.

“You know how to skip rocks?” He tosses you a smooth stone which you catch effortlessly.

You open your mouth to respond but before you’re able to, you’re cut off by a clap of thunder. The ripples of thunder makes you jump slightly.

“We should probably go inside—“ You start, shivering at the cold wind that begins to roll past you.

“Scared of a little thunder, (Y/n)?” Sirius teases, smirking at your shivering form.

“Don’t be a prick.” You snort. “Just throw your rock.”

You push the thought of the oncoming storm to the back of your mind as you position yourself on the bank.

The water laps at you shoes as you toe the edge, running your thumb over the smooth surface. You mirror Sirius’ position, slightly crouched at the knee, body angled towards the lake.

“One...two...three!”

You watch his body move fluidly through the positions, the stone releasing and skipping across the water delicately. Not only do you get distracted by Sirius, but the mark on your arm gives a sudden jolt, making your posture falter and your stone crash recklessly into the lake.

Sirius brings a ringed fist up to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not that funny.” You grumble, embarrassed.

“I mean, it’s pretty fucking hilarious. I thought you said you knew how to skip rocks?” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, a chuckle still lightly escaping his amused smile.

“Technically, I didn’t tell you shit.” You remark. “The thunder cut me off.”

“Ah yes. The spooky thunder.” He drawls, wagging his painted fingers at you mockingly.

You bring your hand up to flick him off when you feel a cool dot of water drop onto your hand.

“Hey, did you just feel a—“

In the middle of talking, one raindrop becomes hundreds, the torrential downpour almost instantly soaking you to your bones. You hair plasters to your skin, clothes clinging onto you.

“—raindrop?” You utter weekly, a chill coming over you.

Your eyes widen as you look at Sirius, how his dark hair sticks wildly to his face, like curtains across his eyes.

Lily and Mary let out identical high pitched shrieks, and you hear the sound of mud squelching as the three run back towards the castle.

As Sirius tries to wipe the wet hair from his face, you grab onto his wrist, pulling him as your sprint back to the castle. You’re fumbling as you try not to slip in the mud but at the same time try get to the cover of the castle quickly.

“A little thunder, my arse, Sirius!” You huff out, his wrist still grasped tightly in your hand.

You hear him chuckle behind you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Cold water traces down your back and fills your shoes, your discomfort rapidly increasing with every step and every second you spend outdoors.

Your mind drifts off to Sirius, who was only in his white uniform button down. He must be freezing.

After sloshing through puddles and mucking up your shoes, you manage to get under the cover of the stone castle.

Your teeth are chattering and you body trembles, but at least the rain isn’t cutting into your skin anymore.

Lily, Mary, and Peter are nowhere to be found, though they’re probably making their way to the Gryffindor common room already.

Sirius is wringing out his drenched dark curls, his wand between his lips, but you’re too focused in the face that his shirt is now completely see through. Your eyes wander as you ogle his fit body, shamelessly trailing everywhere. You bite your bottom lip at your confidence.

However, something catches your eye as you admire his arms. A black splotch. Like a tattoo in the inside of his elbow. You somehow go colder than you already were.

“Admiring my beauty—Hey!”

You step forward and latch onto his arm, trying to get a better look at the spot on his arm. Initially, he struggles, but you jab your finger into his skin, your own mark tingling beneath your wet clothes.

“What’s your problem, (Y/n)?” He angrily grunts.

“What’s this, Sirius?” You demand, looking at him.

“Why?” Sirius rips his arm out of your grasp, trying his best to hide the mark from you.

“Because,” You explain, rolling up your own sleeve to expose the eight pointed star on your arm. “We might have something in common.”

Your entire body erupts into shivers both from the cold wind against your soaked skin and the way your soulmark buzzing.

The star stands out against your skin and you watch Sirius’ eyes widen, his jaw going slightly slack.

“Sirius.” You whisper. “I need to know if you’re my soulmate.”

The rain pounds against the castle, wind whistles, and thunder claps, and yet you don’t jump. You’re too focused on Sirius’ expression.

Silently, he brings his index finger to your mark and lightly traces the shape with his fingertip. His finger is cold, but you barely realize it because of the shock that runs through your body, originating from his touch. Goosebumps run wildly across your flesh.

He swallows harshly before pulling away and recklessly pushes his sleeve up the length of his arm. Your heart beats wildly in your chest in anticipation.

Sirius shoves his arm in front of you and you bring your gaze to focus on the inside of his elbow.

And there it is.

His soulmark.

Your soulmark.

The lines are clean and the points are sharp, the star is clear against his skin.

“Oh.”

“You’re my soulmate.” Sirius mutters. “Oh thank Merlin!” He’s laughing, a smile growing across his face.

His laughter is infectious and you find yourself joining him, practically jumping with glee.

Sirius latches onto you, pulling your wet bodies close. He brings his lips to your forehead, warmth spreading from the contact.

“We should celebrate.” Sirius remarks, pulling away just enough to see your entire form.

“Hold on.” You chuckle. “I think you’re forgetting to do something.”

His grey eyes flick down to your lips. “How could I ever forget the best part?” He smirks.

You lips are slow to connect, relishing in the sounds of the rain and how his his hands wrap around your elbows, thumb pressed into your mark.

When they finally join together, you feel whole. Like two puzzle pieces linked together. Eyes flutter shut as emotion run rampant through your body. Your mark tingles before fizzling out when you and Sirius disconnect.

You’re breathless as you cling onto him, as he clings onto you.

“We’ve got a party to throw,” Sirius grabs your hand. “soulmate.”

A stupid grin makes its way across your face.

“Lead the way, soulmate.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @quindolyn @fific7 @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

[my-darling-luna]

Your Majesty Chapter 1

Please note that NONE of the gifs that I use are supposed to show the reader’s skin color or weight!!! It’s so hard to find gifs on here because I’m new to Tumblr and idk how things work. I’m so sorry, I’m trying to learn lol.

Your Majesty Masterlist

Summary- It has been more than a decade since the Kingdom of Ultron lost their princess. (Y/n) was just a 17 year old that didn’t know much about her past. Realizations happen and lives are crossed. How will (Y/n) handle the new pressure?

Stucky x reader

---

     “Up, let’s go, we have a long day ahead of us!” (Y/n)’s mom chirped, a smile on her face even considering how early in the morning it was.

      “Ugh, it’s still dark out though.” She mumbled from where her face was pushed into her pillow.

       “It’s unbelievable that you’ve been getting up everyday at the same time for so many years and you still act like this.” Her mom swatted her blanketed form with the dish rag she was holding. “Let’s go dear, your father isn’t going to be happy if you’re late.” (Y/n) groaned but got up and pulled on her working clothes.

      “I hate these stupid dresses.” (Y/n) huffed while trying to pull down the bodice of her work clothing.

       “I’m sorry we can’t afford more.” (Y/n)’s heart dropped at the thought that her mom believed she wasn’t grateful for everything her they did. 

       “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” (Y/n) rushed over to kiss her mom on the cheek, “I meant that I don’t like how the corset feels. It isn’t you mama, I promise.” 

       “Okay, just know I love you so much.” (Y/n) smiled as she laced up her boots and tied a brown apron around her waist. “Now go milk the cows, we need it for cheese.”

        “Okay, love you mama.” (Y/n) said before walking out of the small house to the backyard. 

        “Morning princess.” (Y/n) ‘s father kissed her forehead before handing her a bucket. 

        “Morning father, how’s Betty?” (Y/n) motioned over to the cow that was grazing the field. 

        “Still hanging on there, she seems a little stressed out though.” He sighed as he looked out to the field while squinting his eyes. 

       “We’ll figure it out, okay? We always do.” Giving her a small smile, he motioned over to the old cow. 

      “Go on, we can’t wait too long.” (Y/n) sighed as the weight of the world seemed to be on her shoulders. We always do, but what if we don’t? (Y/n) scolded herself for thinking that way. We always do.

***

       “(Y/n) come on, you have to head out now so you can make it home before dark.” Her mama called from the doorway to the outside, watching as her daughter hobbled in one one foot as she forced her shoe on. “Be careful, okay?” Worry was deeply settled in her mother’s eyes. 

      “Mama, I’ll be fine, it’s only to the next town.” 

      “But you’ve never been alone on this trip before.” (Y/n) smiled as she took the basket. 

      “I’ll be back home and safe before you know it.” Her mom sighed, but nodded.

      “Love you!”

      “Love you both!” (Y/n) waved to her mother and father at the doorway of their house. Mama was pulled closed by her father. 

     “She’ll be okay, my love.” Mama pulled her shawl closer around her body.

     “I know.” 

***

      (Y/n) hummed to herself as she walked down the rocky path to the next town. The Kingdom of Ultron was huge and technology was something that ran ramped in every little corner there was. She loved going on these trips as this was so much different from the poor, censored land of Hydra. There was a lot of hate in her kingdom which was something that she always despised about the land. 

      “Hi Peter.” The small boy jumped up and down at the sight of (Y/n) standing in front of him and his aunt. 

      “Hi (Y/n)! Why are you here?” (Y/n) smiled. 

      “I come here for the same thing every two weeks, Peter.” She set down the basket of cheese on the table in front of her. “Hi May, how are you.” The woman smiled as she gave the younger girl a hug. 

      “I’m doing good, how are you and your parents? No one came with you?” 

      “Not this time and we’re doing as well as we can be over the border.” May nodded in understanding as she ran her fingers through the young boy’s hair. 

      “How much for this block?” (Y/n) nervously asked, hoping that it was enough to feed her family until she could come back. 

      “Maybe a loaf and a half?” May watched as the younger girl’s body deflated. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but things are slow around this time and I have to feed a growing boy.” (Y/n) nodded in understanding and took the bread from May. “I’m so sorry.” 

      (Y/n) grimaced. “It’s okay, May.” It wasn’t okay; a loaf and a half wasn’t even enough for a week, let alone two. She walked away from the stall with a goodbye and made it about ten feet before she knocked into someone. 

      “How dare you knock into me.” A man stood in front of (Y/n) with a snarl on her face. 

      “I didn’t mean to.” She spoke back lightly, trying to calm the situation so that there wasn’t a fight. “I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so sorry.”

     “Do you even know who I am?” (Y/n) shook her head as the man laughed. “I am certainly more important to you. What’s your name, little girl?” (Y/n) fumed at the nickname. 

     “My name is (Y/n) and don’t ever call me a little girl.” 

     “Aww, the baby thinks that she’s so strong, what kind of name is (Y/n)?”

     “I was named after the missing princess.” (Y/n) looked at him in disgust.

     “You’re probably as worthless as her too.” The man smacked (Y/n) in the face before pulling the basket out of her hand. “Only a loaf and a half? Disgusting.” He handed the bread to one of his men standing around who ripped it up and spread it amongst the men. (Y/n) cried out from the pain in her cheek and the pain at watching her bread going to waste on a bunch of jerks. 

     “What is going on here?” A voice boomed as a man pushed between (Y/n) and the man. “Zemo, if you don’t leave right now, you will be arrested for trespassing on Ultron land.” The new man threatened 'Zemo’ before turning to (Y/n). 

     “Are you okay?” He had a bright red coat and hat on with gold details on the edges.

     (Y/n) dusted off her skirt as she stood up from the ground. “I’m fine, thank you.” The man before her gave her a hesitant look before holding his hand out for her to take. 

      “Let me go get you cleaned up.” (Y/n) shook her head before looking around at the small crowd that surrounded them. May and Peter stood in the middle before walking up to (Y/n). 

      “Are you okay? You’re bleeding.” May softly touched (Y/n)’s cheek and when she pulled back, red blood was covering the tips of her fingers. Zemo must’ve cut her with the rings on his hand. 

      “Like I said, I’m okay.” Peter looked up at (Y/n) with wide brown eyes and extended his hand out to her. A small piece of bread was held in his grasp.

      “You have it.” (Y/n) lightly took the piece of bread and kissed the boy’s cheek. 

      “Thank you, Peter.” (Y/n) turned back to the man in front of her. “I really appreciate you scaring that man off, but I have to get home before dark.” He shook his head. 

      “At least let me get you cleaned up.” (Y/n) was about to shake her head, but was cut off by May saying something. 

      “Yes, thank you Rhodey.” The man nodded with a smile. 

      “Come with me.” (Y/n) took his hand and he led her through the crowd and market to a carriage. She gazed over the beautiful white carriage that had red and gold blemishes on it. “Up you go.” Rhodey helped her get into the small, tight inside. The door closed behind them and he soon after hit the top of the carriage, making (Y/n) jump with the sudden and loud noise. “Oh I’m so sorry.” He pulled out a perfect white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over to her. 

      “Thank you.” (Y/n) pressed it lightly into her cut, wincing at the slight pain in her cheek. Her eyes wandered over his outfit from the opposite side of the carriage. “Who are you?” Rhodey seemed shocked with the question. 

       “I’m Duke James Rhodes.” (Y/n) nodded while trying to play off the shock of the revelation. She knew he was important, but definitely not that important. He watched as the girl in front of him pushed the small piece of bread into her basket with a flinch. 

       “Where are you bringing me?” 

       “You ask an awful lot of questions.” He continued to smile. “I’m bringing you to the palace to fix you up. We should be pulling up now.” (Y/n) fidgeted in her seat at the thought of going to the palace in these clothes and looking like this. Another heavy knock on the carriage scared (Y/n) as the door opened and the footman let her out. The man flinched at her dirty hand touching his white glove. “Let’s go.” Following Rhodey, she walked up the palace steps and into the huge grand entrance. 

      “Rhodey, how did the market go?” A loud voice echoed through the empty space as a man with brown hair and intricate designs in his beard walked forward. The two embraced and the new man patted Rhodey’s shoulder roughly. 

       “Good,” he motioned for (Y/n) to move forward and she did, “I met this young lady in a confrontation with Zemo.” The man looked (Y/n) up and down before looking up at Rhodey. 

       “What was Zemo doing in this kingdom?” Rhodey shrugged. The man looked over to (Y/n). “Are you not going to bow?” He asked and (Y/n) froze. What was she supposed to do? She didn’t know how to curtsy. (Y/n) awkwardly bent in a way that she didn’t think that she could ever do again. A frown covered the man’s face. “We’ll have to work on that.” She flushed. 

       “Tony leave the poor girl alone, she’s bleeding.” A woman with strawberry blonde hair walked out into the main entrance and kissed Rhodey lightly on the cheek. 

       “Hello Pepper.” Rhodey turned to (Y/n). “As I said, Zemo was intimidating her and he hit her. He must’ve had rings on or something.” That’s what I thought, (Y/n) said in her head.

       “You poor girl, let’s go get you cleaned up.” Pepper put her arm around  (Y/n)‘s shoulder while carefully minding the built up filth. “What’s your name, darling?”

       “(Y/n).” Everyone stopped walking as man with the funny beard flinched and Pepper moved away from (Y/n). 

      “How old are you?” Pepper asked, her eyes staring with interest at the girl in front of her.

      “Seventeen.” Pepper smiled quietly and looked over at the man. 

     “Tony...” (Y/n) ‘s eyes widened. Tony was the name of the King. She was in the presence of the King. “I think we should go get you cleaned up.” Pepper shuffled away with (Y/n) at her side. 

***

      “Are you okay with this?” (Y/n) nodded at Pepper who looked at her with a smile. She just stepped out of the bathroom where the maids cleaned her and her wound. The bleeding had stopped not to long ago, but getting it checked was still important to make sure that it wasn’t infected. Pepper now stood in front of her with her hands ruffling over dresses for (Y/n) to wear. “How about this one?” She held out a dress that was plain, but looked nicer than anything that (Y/n) could even be in the range of touching. Pepper made it quite clear that she would not allow (Y/n) to go back home in the rags she wore before until they were cleaned, especially not if she was her step-daughter, but she didn’t mention that out loud. 

      “Whatever you have is fine.” Pepper pushed another dress into (Y/n)’s arms before stepping back and letting the maids dress her. 

      “You look beautiful! Do you like it?” (Y/n) nodded while running her hands through the tulle skirt of the dress. 

      “Thank you.”

      “Never mind that,” Pepper shook her off, “now let’s go see Tony and Rhodey downstairs, okay?” (Y/n) nodded, her nerves skyrocketing again. 

      Tony watched as (Y/n) walked down the stairs and felt his heart jump at the thought of her really being his daughter. “Banner?” He called and a man in a white coat walked into the main entrance. 

      “Is everything ready?” Banner’s voice was soft as he pulled out a cart. (Y/n) looked fearfully over to the doctor. Why was he here? What was going on? 

      “Relax,” Pepper consoled, “there is just going to be a quick paternity test.” (Y/n) jumped away.

      “For what? I know my parents and they’re waiting for me at home, so I’d really like to leave.” Rhodey grabbed (Y/n) by the waist and pulled her over to the doctor. Tony held onto her arm to keep it steady as she tried to wiggle out of his grip. “Let me go! I want to go home, please.” She begged.

       “Small pinch.” (Y/n) winced as Banner took some blood out of her arm and wrapped up the hole with a bandage. She watched as Tony’s blood was taken and put into a device with her. Her arms were let go of and she pushed as far away from the men as possible. The machine beeped and the doctor pulled out the test. “It’s positive, you’re the father.” Banner looked over to Tony then everyone turned to (Y/n). 

       (Y/n) felt as her entire world fell to the ground. She was lied to, no! There had to be something wrong, she knew her parents and they were in a little cottage with an old cow out in the back field. This was all fake. “I want my parents,” she looked over to the people with a grimace, “my real ones.” 

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Thank you so much for reading! I’m hoping to get out a chapter every week so stay tuned if you want! Much love!

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