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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 11 months

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gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 1: Homecoming

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Welcome, everyone, to the edit/rewrite of my first instalment of ‘terms of endearment’! Just to clarify - a LOT of this will remain as-is, but I do intend on shuffling a fair bit around because I wasn’t happy with the pacing upon review. Expect some more flashbacks, some more Daemon-centric smut, grossness galore! I’ve elected to repost entirely so that I don’t leave anyone in limbo while I rejig things. This way, people can still re-read the old completed instalment while I finish out my edits, after which I’ll completely replace the instalment with these new updates in the Masterlist!

TRIGGERS: rough sex, objectification of women, incest, references to pregnancy.

“King Viserys sent him into exile, never to return to the Seven Kingdoms on pain of death… Of the aftermath, these things are certain. Following the tragic mishap of Lady Rhea Royce’s untimely death and the Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding to Ser Laenor, Daemon Targaryen returned to the Stepstones and resumed his struggle for those barren storm-swept rocks. The subsequent decade found him abroad in Essos, keeping residence with various highborn families in Pentos and holding court with his paramour Mysaria, returned to him after an extended period of absence. It was only with the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s third son Prince Joffrey—and the announcement of his second daughter’s search for a husband—that King Viserys finally wrote his erstwhile brother, bidding him to come home.”

- 'Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros' by Archmaester Gyldayn

“Ah—ah—ah—my Prince!”

The wrong shade, he muses, but close enough in the dark.

The thought angers him. He pulls out of the girl and drags her off the bed, drops her to her knees before him. Her tearstained face renews his flagging arousal, and he tugs frantically at himself at the sight of her wide, overwhelmed eyes.

“Finish me,” he snarls.

He throws his head back with a moan as the girl takes him in her mouth, choking him down eagerly. Grasping onto her hair, he pulls her further along his shaft, revelling in the frantic spasms of her muscles and the muffled cries that send such delicious vibrations down his cock.

“Fuck—that’s it, girl,” he says, holding her by the scalp and using her with little care. He grunts when he comes, pulsing down her throat and making her swallow him down. When he lets her go, she pulls off him quickly, sputtering and retching.

In any other circumstance, he’d be perfectly happy to let her continue, let her play with herself until he had hardened again, until he could fuck her into the mattress, or on the chair, or perhaps even pressed over the balcony overhanging the bright city. But tonight, the sight annoys him.

“Get out.”

He tosses a robe over his naked form, enjoying the fear that crosses her face as she takes in his words but making no move to allay her. “You heard me.”

The whore gathers herself off the sheets, tugging on her threadbare dress.

“W-what of my payment, my Prince?” she asks timidly, and he’d like to be impressed by her boldness—but the whore is boring him, and a bored Targaryen is a dangerous one.

“Add it to the Prince of Pentos’s tab,” He take. another swig of wine. When he observes her still there, making no move to leave, he barks at her. “Well, girl? Are you deaf? Get out!”

She shrieks and runs as he tosses the half-empty jug her way, already mourning the wine as it splatters against the table, across the wall and over the bed. Luckily, the outburst got the girl to leave. The door hangs ajar as he strides over to the balcony and leans against it, staring pensively out at the city.

Pentos is a lively metropolis. Even at night, the sounds of laughter, drunken fighting, exotic merchants selling exotic wares and the chatter of foreign tongues fills his ears. The scent of rich spices from the marketplace lingers in his nose, a perpetually heady musk that pulses in his skull and sends shivers of half-hearted desire trickling through his blood. A warm breeze rustles from far-off, ruffling the hairs on his arms and legs softer than a highborn girl’s tits.

And somehow, it’s not enough. He wants to scream with the monotony of it all. It should excite him—but it only makes him feel flat, hollow. He’s bored.

“I ran into the girl you were using tonight, my Prince. Did you not like this one?”

“She was fine.” Daemon ignores Mysaria as she rests beside him and idly trails her hand down his exposed chest.

So often, such a motion carries with it the hazard of something proprietary, possessive, a claim upon his person from one far too lowborn to have the right of such importunity. Not now, though. She understands the way of things.

“I worked hard to procure her for you. Valyrian stock is difficult to come by, even in Pentos.”

“She was no Valyrian.”

He pushes her hand away and walks back inside, cursing himself for doing away with the wine so early. It may be shit, but at least it gets me drunk well enough.

Collapsing on the chair, he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, hoping the woman will give up quickly.

“What ails you this evening, Daemon?”

Fuck. He glances back up at her, abjectly noticing her concern for him etched in her features. She is beautiful this evening, his whore, sumptuous frame garbed in blood-red and mysterious eyes lined in thick kohl.

She treads forward, standing before him and placing her hand upon his crown. “You have been unlike yourself all afternoon.”

The urge to fight drains from him. He jerks his head towards the nearby desk where the source of all his issues lay opened, waiting for a new reader to claim the words upon its pages. He says nothing as she saunters over to read its contents—merely resumes staring at the back of his own eyelids, listening to the sound of the parchment ruffle as she adjusts it.

“The Princess Rhaenyra has been delivered of another son—Joffrey, of House Velaryon.”

The sound of the words spoken aloud is enough to bring his anger back. Mine, that should be my son, not that pillowbiter’s or that fucking Strong cunt—

“Oh—and your little niece has begun receiving suitors.”

Daemon pauses in his tirade. He hadn’t noticed that little piece of news upon first reading Viserys’s letter.

“Which one?” he asks her. There’s three now, isn’t there? Or is it four?

“The second one,” Mysaria says.

An echoing indignation throbs through him. Not my girl, my sweetling, she is too young—

You were a child when he was exiled for the final time, having at last outlived Viserys’s seemingly infinite patience with that business with Rhaenyra.

Fucking is a pleasure, you see; for the woman as it is the man.

He swallows at the memory, at the sting of thinking of her hooded eyes and parted lips, the smooth suppleness of her collarbone as he’d unbuttoned that ridiculous longshirt, her sighs and the feel of her wet between slender thighs—

No. It’d only make him angry again.

He turns his contemplations back to where it is safe. Back to you, his little princess. If his memories of Rhaenyra are tainted by the years of lust and longing and the chance of a love thwarted long ago, then you remain perhaps the only pure thing from his youth. Purity. ‘Tis fitting, surely. There had always been an innate innocence to you that none other had possessed, a profound incorruptibility that evoked some long-repressed desire to be something more than the rogue he was.

He’d never really fathomed where you’d found such goodness in a world made for depravity and destruction. Rhaenyra was easy enough to understand—she’d been a reflection of himself, like looking into a mirror and finding the contents skewed slightly. Ambition, wanderlust, the bite of debauchery lurking below the otherworldly godliness of Valyrian features, concealing their baser natures from the world. But you—you were an oddity of the bloodline, strangely sweet and yet shrewd, sharp, a hidden fire waiting for fuel to light the blaze.

“Hm.”

Daemon finds himself wondering what you are like now that ten years had passed. You’d be a woman-grown now, or near enough. The knowledge is discomfiting, so bogglingly at odds with the girl of seven summers he had left on the steps of the Keep that night.

“Where are you going?”

“Fu—” He just barely stops himself from voicing aloud the rest of his foul outcry. Whirling around in shock, he keeps a tight hold of the reins. When he sees who awaits him, he sighs. “Go back inside, sweetling.”

Dressed in a pretty little gown of lavender with your hair adorned in ribbons, it is clear that the effect is meant to convey a sense of maturity, a young lady on the cusp of reaching womanhood. Daemon sees the same you he always had; a slip of a thing, wide eyes and round cheeks and spindly little elbows and knees, a tiny doll to tuck away on a shelf, high out of reach of grubby hands.

It is not who he had been expecting. Who he had hoped.

Your brows are drawn, lilac blurred by the tear-sheen collecting on your lashes. “You—Uncle Daemon”—your hands clasp together anxiously—“you cannot leave now! The—’Nyra is going to be married in the Great Hall soon. You have to be there. You said you would dance with me.”

He drops the reins at that. Even after all that—after I’d told her to slip away, to join me—she was still going ahead with it all? He wants to break something, to lash out and cause hurt so that he won’t be the only one to feel so wretched in this moment.

There is none here but you.

Crossing the courtyard and up the steps so that he may crouch before you, he shoves down his rage and his pain as best he can. “Talītsos”—little niece, he calls you, tucking a stray strand of hair back into your coiffure with a tender touch—“the King has asked me to leave. I must do as he says, correct?”

“When—when will you be back?” you ask, lower lip trembling. He is dismayed to see one of those tears fall, misery tracking down your face.

Wiping it away with a thumb, he takes your hand in his and steels himself for his next words. “I’m afraid… I’m not coming back.”

The horror in your expression feels like the edge of a blade carving to his very soul. “But… you promised.” You sound as wounded as he.

He tries to smile. He wonders if it looks as broken as it feels. “I know. If I had a choice, you know I’d stay.”

At that, you sniffle, withdrawing to rub at your eyes. Daemon casts his gaze around, wondering where the fuck your guards are.

Does no one care for Viserys’s second-born?

It mightn’t be the first time you’d slipped out from under the watch of your protectors—you’ve always been too damn quiet, prone to sneaking about and hiding beneath the noses of all who searched for you—but surely, in the wake of a death at the most anticipated event of the season, at least somebody ought to have realised you were missing. He has half a mind to bring you back inside himself, never mind his brother’s orders.

“Will I ever see you again?”

A shout of your name comes from within, far away though drawing nearer with each repetition.

Good. At least I’ll not be leaving her alone.

His fingers dance across your sleeve, coaxing your hand back into his and squeezing softly. “Kostilus. Kostilus daor. Jēda ivestrilus.” Perhaps. Perhaps not. Time will tell.

You fling your arms around his neck, wet little face digging into his temple. “Aōma ozmijīnna, kepus.” I will miss you, Uncle.

Through the anguish prickling at the insides of his eyelids, he is pleased by your attempt to speak in your mother tongue; true, it is stuttering and uncertain, the vowels not quite shaped as they should be, but it is certainly impressive for one so young.

He can hear your quick breaths punctuated by hitches, a steady stream of half-suppressed sobs pressed up against the shell of his ear. He hugs you tight to him, feels the thud of your heartbeat below the bones of your structured gown and the many layers you’ve been trussed up in, smells the rose oil in your hair and on your skin, and prays that he will remember this always.

Daemon says nothing. There are no words of farewell that seem sufficient. Pulling away, he takes one last look at you—your miserable countenance, below which lingers the glowing loveliness that precursors true beauty, wild silver strands haloed in the moonlight—and hopes that this won’t be the last time you and he meet in this life.

As he leads his horse out of the courtyard, through the open gate and into the city beyond, he finds the sound of your weeping is drowned out by the erratic rhythm of his own fractured heart, roaring in his ears.

“Your brother calls you home, my Prince.” Mysaria startles him from his reverie. He’d forgotten she was talking. “He says it has been long enough.”

“He does, does he?” Daemon sneers even as he wills away the ache in his bones—the ache of remembering you—though it has not the vitriol behind it he wishes for.

If he’s honest with himself, he has been yearning for the familiar sights of King’s Landing. He would never profess to call it home, however. You’d been the only one to make him feel truly welcome in those fleeting visits of his.

Mysaria sighs. “You should go,” she says, and he can feel her eyes upon him from her seat at the desk.

Her words are surprising. If he were to leave, she’d surely lose her position as esteemed guest. Whores were only respectable if they were fucking a man of station, after all—and if he were to depart, where would that leave her?

He asks her. She laughs, and strolls over to him, seating herself upon his lap. His arms go around her automatically, a rote movement ingrained from years of habit.

“Oh, Daemon. I am only here for you. If you were to leave, I would move on as I did when you discarded me last time.”

Her words contain no accusation, and he feels suddenly fond of her. Here is a woman who has no expectations of him beyond money and a good fuck, and he likes to think he’s provided both in abundance over their long acquaintance.

“Will you miss me, pet?” He grins wryly up at her. He’s taken aback by the fact that he is actually considering it, making the journey back to Westeros.

“Of course, my Prince.” They both know it’s a lie. Mysaria is fond of him, ‘tis true, but she has no love for him, nor he for her. It is a mutually beneficial alliance, nothing more and nothing less. “But I shall always be around, should you have need of me once more.” This is true also, he knows.

He considers the notion again. Returning. Going back to the Red Keep, all those fucking people staring at him, judging him with snide faces and side-eyes. That Hightower whore and the progeny she shoved from her dried-up cunt running his brother into an early grave. Rhaenyra and her bastard boys—that shirtlifter husband of hers and that fucking Strong—and you, his little niece, freshly plucked and waiting to be wedded and bedded.

“Well,” he says, already decided. “I do suppose I’m going home.”

The announcement seems to lighten some latent tightness across his chest, and he realises with dawning comprehension that a part of him actually misses his former life. He looks up at his lover mischievously, already reaching up her skirts to slide a finger into her, thumb at her pearl. She gasps and parts her legs for him obligingly, working a hand around her neck to undo the cords that tie her dress to her.

“Fancy a farewell fuck?” he asks.

She laughs, shifting so that she straddles him, batting his hand from her and grasping his cock so that she may sink down upon it. He throws his head back and watches her with hooded eyes as she gives him something to remember her by.

Fuck, he thinks to himself as he fondles her tits, I’ll miss this.

He elects not to warn the capital in advance of his arrival, deciding it is far more fun to indulge in the confusion and alarm that the long-absent sight of Caraxes flying above the city would bring. He’s right, as bringing his mount low as he soars above the people of King’s Landing amasses shouts so hysterical one would think he were an enemy coming to rain dragonfire upon the crowds. It seems they have grown complacent in his absence, an issue he’ll have to remedy.

As he approaches the Dragonpit, he is nearly knocked out of the sky by a great hulking creature. He whips around frantically as Caraxes lets forth a chilling cry. At first, he thinks he sees the Black Dread flying free once more. He looks again and realises his mistake. It is a dragon, no doubt, but this one is much smaller than Balerion had been in his final years—though the colouring is similar—and far quicker and more snappish than the old beast had ever been. It is a fearsome specimen, nonetheless. The sound of its low, booming roar sends a thrill of excitement and terror down his spine.

Now, there is a dragon worthy of House Targaryen, he thinks to himself. The creature is flying away, and out of self-preservation Daemon chooses not to follow it, urging Caraxes back on path to the Pit.

The attendants are swarming as he lands Caraxes, trying in vain to rein him in. Caraxes bellows, having grown used to the freedom allowed to him in Pentos, and Daemon knows his mount will not allow himself to be chained any longer.

“Ziry qrīdrughās!” he yells as he dismounts, calling off the Keepers brandishing their spears. Leave it!

“Dārilaros ñuhys—” My Prince—

“I said, leave it!” Daemon repeats, rounding upon the man and sneering as he bows in obeisance. “He’ll not be chained.”

The Keeper is replying, but Daemon has already moved on. He swings himself onto the horse provided, choosing not to wait for the carriage he is sure has been made available, and makes his own way through the winding streets of the city.

It must be the sight of his foreign garb and the silver of his hair as the sun shines down that attracts the growing crowds. The closer he ventures toward the towering monolith of the Red Keep, the greater the collection of people come to a stop at the sides of the narrow roads, all of them thronging to take their glimpse of the wayward Prince’s return. And yet, as he passes, their curiosity turns to excitement, trepidation, fear—a reception he is not unsurprised to have garnered. No one can outrun their past. The whispers carry him all the way to the Targaryen stronghold, reminding him how just out of place he is.

When he arrives at the steps, a party is waiting for him.

“Prince Daemon!”

Lord Lyonel Strong. Daemon notes with distaste that the man has gotten fat and is now balding. It seems the position of Lord Hand suited him ill over the years.

“We were not expecting your return!”

“I did not send word,” he says dispassionately.

As he searches Strong’s attendants, he notes one that makes him want to pull Dark Sister from its scabbard and stab an eye or two out. Harwin fucking Strong. The man is as noble as ever, a pretty boy made ruggedly handsome with the sprouting of facial hair in his fifteenth year. Since then, he’d been annoyingly good-looking. What a cunt. Daemon smiles, a clench of teeth bared tightly toward the Lord Commander of the City Watch, and nudges past the remainder of the assembled people.

He has to physically restrain himself from cringing when he sees how poorly his brother has fared over the last ten years. While his letters had spoken of illness, Daemon had not been expecting the sight of a gaunt Viserys riddled with festering sores, his hair thready and thin, teeth fallen out and wrinkles that made it seem as though fifty summers had passed. Oh, and the matter of the missing limb. What in the Seven fucking Hells were the Maesters doing if not helping ease the King’s pains?

“Brother?”

The King appears incredulous as Daemon strides into the throne room, a makeshift assembly of high-ranking personages already present in expectation of his arrival.

He averts his eyes from his brother’s form—oh, brother, what have they done to you?—and genuflects, eyes pointed to the floor. “Your Grace. I have returned. I hope I am welcome after all this time.”

“Of course, you are,” Viserys breathes, hoisting himself off the Iron Throne.

He seems not to notice as the action tears at a portion of his sleeve, a thin slice spreading on the skin of the arm remaining to him. The King makes his way down the steps, limb outstretched, and Daemon steps into the hug that is offered to him. In many regards, his older brother is the same. He has not lost his stoutness, and the smell of him is familiar, though it has been overtaken by the stench of herbs and poultices and the rot of impending death. He fights back the bizarre and unwelcome urge to cry. As fraught as their relationship has always been, he had never truly expected—nor intended—for his brother to die.

“Welcome home, brother.”

“I am glad to be back,” Daemon murmurs, and it is not a lie. As the court claps, his gaze raises up, and it’s then that he first sees Rhaenyra again. His chest throbs with the exhilaration of a long-awaited reunion. He’s taken aback by the sight.

It pains him to see her, the same and yet different. He supposes that he had been expecting her to remain unchanged, the pretty maiden with hooded eyes and slender form still waiting for him to return to her someday. This is not the woman he encounters before him, though it doesn’t make her any less beautiful.

But the look of yearning he had been hoping to see—the yearning he had felt in his bones for all these years—is simply not there.

Eventually, they set him free. He is clear to seek out his eldest niece, only to find that she has departed while his back was turned. He goes looking for her, wandering the familiar halls of his childhood and meandering all the way to the Princess of Dragonstone’s apartments.

When he knocks on the door, he hears her voice again, a woman’s voice and not a girl’s. It sets his gut churning lowly, uncomfortably. He opens the door, only to find her back turned to him.

“Uncle,” she says, revolving to face him. Her countenance is blank, save for the soft twist of her mouth as she eyes the wriggling babe in her arms. This must be Joffrey, the new one. “I have missed you.”

Motherhood has changed her—it’s clear even in these first seconds. Gone is the time when her world revolved around him, when her eyes would follow him as soon as he stepped into the room, eagerly awaiting the moment that he would bestow his attention upon her. No, now her gaze falls upon her boy, absorbed by the small snuffles and slow blinks of the child wrapped in blankets and looking up at her.

“Rhaenyra.” He steps forward as though to make his way to her then aborts the notion as soon as it passes through his mind. “You’ve changed.”

He does not mean to be so unfeeling, for his words to be so lacking. It is all that can escape him.

The familiar fire sneaks upon her face at his words.

“Yes, well—ten years will do that, Daemon.” She turns to place her son in the cradle beside her and hushes him as his snuffles turn to whines. He eases at the soothing touch of his mother, softens and quietens, and Rhaenyra steps away. When she looks up at him, her eyes are wet with unshed tears. “You left me. I thought—you said you’d never—”

This spurs him into action. He moves toward her, enfolding her in his arms as he did when soothing her hurts as a child, as he did when she sobbed after her mother’s funeral. She even feels different in his embrace, a being so wholly unchanged and foreign that it sets him reeling, a wheel spinning wildly off its mount.

“I shouldn’t have.” He holds her firm even as she struggles in his embrace. “I shouldn’t have left—”

“Don’t!” She pulls away from him, turning her back on him and wiping her eyes. “I don’t care for hearing platitudes from you, not when they’re too late to mean anything.”

“Is it too late, then?” Daemon asks boldly, stepping into her space. He winds his arms around her, front pressed against her back, resolutely ignoring the rising burn in his chest that tells him something is amiss. He had thought this might reignite the flame from that night, the night he’d been so close to getting everything he’d ever wanted, a pretty Targaryen bride made just for him—and yet, it does not.

“Don’t—”

It is the weakness in her voice, the trembling in his arms that presses him onward.

“Yne ivestrās tolī henumīdēmatan, Rhaenyrus.” Tell me I have been away too long, Rhaenyra.

He presses his cheek against her hair and she shudders at the rolling bass of High Valyrian escaping from his lips, even as he tries to ignore the feeling that this is wrong not the same wrong wrong wrong—

“Uncle Daemon!” Her hand flies to his thigh as he grinds forward, juddering, an action borne of instinct.

Uncle. How many times had he made his whores playact this moment?

Why does it feel no different, here and now?

Spinning abruptly in his arms, she slams her lips against his, a violent clash of teeth and tongue that befuddles him as she presses him back, pushes him against the table. Not one to be conquered, he grasps her hips and shoves her around, driving her against the same edge she’d forced him on as he rips at the front of her dress, fumbles with her skirts to display her stockinged legs. He works at ties to her shift while she grapples with the lacing of his breeches, a frantic, discordant battle to disrobe that is more painful than pleasurable.

Hissing at the chill of her fingers, he grunts as her dry palm squeezes his cock and begins to fist him roughly, too roughly, skin snagging on skin and nails pinching delicate tissue. It is far too aggressive, nothing like the shy, unsure thing he’d imagined she would be this first time.

“Fuck!” He wills himself to remain solid in her grip, to belay the softening that has already begun.

One hand lowers itself beneath her smallclothes, fingers and thumb wiggling around to search for the folds of her cunt, the wetness that lay within, only to find her as bone dry as a Septa. He tugs harder on her shift to expose her tits, hoping the sight will renew him, but they are swollen with mother’s milk, yet another reminder that she is not his, has been taken and made anew by the seed of another man, not his not his not his—

“Fuck.”

He is resigned now, his shaft wilting, and he does not try to think up scenarios to encourage its rise.

The old fantasies of a coquettish maiden Rhaenyra feel distinctly wrong to conjure up here, not when the very being herself is right before him. But she is not enough as she is—he wonders if she would have been enough even if she’d been exactly how he’d pictured—and it helps him realise that this will never be.

She seems to understand as well. Her hand retracts and, as she buries her head in the crook of his shoulder, she cries. Cries the tears of a child waiting for the only man who ever understood her to come save her, to come home; the tears of a girl betrayed by the man she thought she loved, left to marry a boy who would never love her; the tears of a woman who has realised it was all for nothing.

When his arms come around her this time, it lacks any trace of ardour. Daemon hides his face against the crown of his niece’s head and wishes he too could cry.

It was all for nothing, he thinks miserably, the hazy memories of a decade spent fighting and fucking and wishing spinning about his brain so fast it dizzies him. It was all for nothing.

Read the EDITED story on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/105698322

Taglist (😭 thank you!):

@teenagephilosophersandwich @mamamooqa @kimnamnu @witch-of-letters @my-dark-prince @asseyakire @kahliethefangirl @shady-daemon @blondtwig @anjavuk591 @drewtissong @vaf24 @katiepie67 @allwedoisvibe @dazecrea @omgsuperstarg @caspianobsessed @shelbyteller @schniiipsel @mononijikayu

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bangtangalicious · 1 year

Text

death valley (m) | finale

summary: a summer internship at a famous record label turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: jimin x reader, namjoon x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au

wordcount: 7k

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes. a is for angst baby, slow burn romantic post-argument sex, unprotected sex (bc), rough sex in a limo, coercion, extremely dubious consent but she gets out of it, namjoon is a big boi, manipulative and obsessive themes, choking, toxic relationships, some physical violence/fighting (not oc), drugs/alcohol mentioned, lots of kissing, dirty talk, creampie, heartbreak, betrayal, guns (not used), oral (f rec), jimin eats you out like a king, anxiety, declarations of love, somehow yet unsurprisingly taehyung is still really hot, yn jumps out of a car but shes ok, twists and turns ;) happy? ending - please read with caution!!! unedited

taglist (sorry if i missed ppl!): @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees@kooookie @queenmasterxx@crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra@un2-verseverse@winter-melontea@equivocacies @infernal-alpaca@shrimpmsg@meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii@liltangerined @littlrmills14blog @issysor@arandomblackgirl@adoringinsanity@giadalin@jeontier @kaithezaftig@jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi@happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs@kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx @bangtan-army @you-are-my-wind @yoongihandfetish @father-time-and-baby-new-year

Taehyung rolled a chess pawn in the palm of his hand. His eyes locked on the game board where two knights stood at the crossroads of his queen. The timer clicked softly in the background, but all Taehyung could hear was his heart beating loudly through his head. A weight dragging down his heart.

So this was guilt.

Taehyung never wasted time with such feelings. Caring for others had never come naturally to him. It was why he was so brilliant at what he did. He had engineered a façade to win your trust early on. In a sea of unhinged men, he meant to be a diamond in the rough. He was ever so sweet to you. Caring, even. Everything was intentional. Every move. Every lie.

Taehyung never wanted you to die. He couldn’t stomach it. Leaving you in the fire was intentional. He knew Namjoon was following you around like the creep he is. He had to see the betrayal in your eyes. He had to make you feel as bad as he felt. He had to do something that would make you want to kill him on sight. He needed to cut you off for good.

Now that he had, the thought of you hating him kept him up at night. He felt guilty.

Why do you care? Taehyung’s feelings for you—he wasn’t sure what they were. The moment you lost faith in him, he seemed to shatter. He wanted you to trust him. He yearned for your approval like never before. Would it have been so wrong to take you and run away? To keep you for himself, far from the chaos of this place?

He shook his head. Blinking at the chessboard a moment longer he began to smile. Giggle. Before he was laughing wildly. He slammed the table to the side, watching all the pieces scatter onto the marble floors.

It was unfair. It was so fucking unfair. Taehyung would have worshipped you. You were a goddess in his eyes. He shook his head. It was none of his business anymore. What you did—who you chose to be with. He had betrayed you. Lied to you since the moment the two of you met. The conflicting thoughts in his head racing a mile a minute—making him queasy with anticipation.

Just leave it alone. Do what you came here for.

Except he couldn’t. He couldn't sit idly by and watch you make a huge mistake. To be with someone who wouldn't allow you to be the amazing woman you were. Someone who only saw you as a prize. He needed you to leave him, to leave Death Valley—but wanted you to be happy.

Sighing, Taehyung reached for his phone. He was doing this for you. He would have done anything for you—but knew in his heart that his would be his last move.

Check and mate. He was done with you after this.

He tasted the remnants of your name on his lips before sending a final message.

You’d never forgive him. But at least you would be safe.

The clock ticking could barely hide the tension in the room. Jimin couldn’t even hear it, his ears filled with his racing heart. His lungs constricted—he could hardly breathe with how angry he was. Gripping the steel handles of his chair so tight, his knuckles were going white.

But he didn’t dare say a word. Because he had been in the business long enough to know when someone was plotting against him. Namjoon was naïve. Tacky, even. The desperation of his actions would have been amusing if it wasn’t for your pliable willingness to participate.

He couldn’t look at you. You were by his side, sitting with your hand on his arm. It was too painful—because you were cold. You were back to playing with his heart and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“It’s just a PR stunt” Hobi had led them inside the label to a conference room. After a long sip of his coffee he spoke again. “They both agreed to it. Imagine the fucking ticket sales for your concert now”

Tugging at his sleeve, you leaned towards him. “I’m sorry baby, it’s not real though I promise.”

Jimin scoffed, turning his head. He knew you better than you thought and could see through your lies. What he couldn’t figure out was why? Why would you agree to something so rash and impulsive?

“This will also help us push down news about Yoongi’s death”

Jimin finally locked his gaze with yours. So that’s it, isn’t it. He truly hadn’t known until Jungkook told him. Was that why you were mad? Did you think he was behind this? This had Namjoon written all over it.

He turned to the bastard, who looked far too pleased with all this for his liking. Namjoon had been a pain in his ass from the day they had met. Fights, to tailing Y/n around every damn second, he couldn’t shake the creep and was getting fed up.

“What the hell did you tell her?”

Namjoon grinned. Leaning back, he ran his fingers through his hair. His newfound confidence was nauseating to Jimin—knowing that it was being fueled by you. “You know, I never really got what people see in you. You don’t even care about music. Your fans. Any of it. You don’t deserve any of it, and you definitely don’t deserve Y/n you crazy prick”

Jimin laughed bitterly, ticking his jaw. “Who the hell even are you? You’re nobody.”

“I’m the guy who just fucked your girlfriend a few minutes ago, let’s start there”

The tug on Namjoon’s lips sent Jimin off the edge. He lunged across the table, fists swinging but Jungkook jumped up to hold him back.

“Namjoon” You muttered sternly, but Jimin was not oblivious to the way you blushed. He scoffed. You had shattered his heart. In front of millions.

“Why?” His voice was quiet, holding your cheek into his palm when really he wanted to grip your throat and squeeze until you couldn’t breathe. “We don’t need this, I don’t care about ticket sales or breaking records anymore—all I want is you”

You sighed, “It’s not about you baby, I wanted to help Namjoon out a little too. It’s his first concert”

Jimin pouted, folding his arms over his chest. “Y/n, I hope you know that I trust you, but Namjoon clearly has an ulterior motive with you. You do see that, right?”

You scoffed, mumbling to yourself.

Jimin raised his eyebrows. “Is there something you want to say to me, Y/n?”

You shook your head. Your gaze was frigid. Everything about you was. He hated it. He wanted to fight, because at least then you would react to him. At least then he would know you cared enough to tell him what was on your mind.

Reaching for your hands, he brought your fingers to his lips, lightly brushing kisses against each one. He knew you liked it when he was soft with you. He needed to remind you who he was. Who he was to you.

“Listen baby,” He spoke softly, twirling your fingers with his, “Jungkook told me what happened to Yoongi” He pressed his lips to the palm of your hand. “I’m so sorry. And I can’t image what you’re going through right now. I know you cared about him”

You stared at him with disbelief, “I loved him, Jimin”

His heart sank. Fingers constricting around your wrist. A part of him wanted to toss a chair across the wall. Maybe pull out a gun and shoot Namjoon in the head.

He exhaled. He couldn’t lose you. Not after everything the two of you had been through. Jimin changed for you. You made him want to be better everyday. You taught him that there was more to life, and all he wanted was to go chase it with you by his side.

He could tell you were taunting him. Trying to get him to snap so you would have any excuse to go running to Namjoon, but he wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction. He was going to prove himself to you.

“I know.” He looked into your eyes. Searching them. Trying to convey his sincerity when he said, “If you want to talk about it—about him, I’m here for you”

You smiled. Fake. He hadn’t gotten through. He sighed in defeat, backing into himself. Jungkook cleared his throat. Jimin had forgotten they weren’t alone.

“Y/n, do you want me to drive you home?” Jungkook briefly looked at Jimin, indicating an understanding.

Namjoon stood up as you did, eagerly waving you goodbye. Jimin could have vomited, but stared aimlessly at the wall instead.

Your head was spinning. Dizzy trying to count the lies tossed around so easily minutes ago. You were grateful Jungkook offered you an out. Being around Jimin was too complicated. You needed to stay focused.

“Your acting skills have improved” Jungkook’s voice was amused, breaking the still silence surrounding you.

You grinned. Jungkook met your eyes in the rearview mirror and chuckled. “My god, Y/n what the fuck are you up to now?”

Licking your lips, you turned to face him. “Have you ever trusted someone so much, that even when the truth is staring right in front of you, you simply can’t see it?”

“You talking about Yoongi?”

“I’m talking about you” You pulled out a gun—something you had managed to snatch from Namjoon during sex. “Pull over and get out of the car”

The shock in Jungkook’s face was priceless. You finally sympathized with whatever sadistic kick Jin used to get out of tricking others. Jungkook quickly stopped the car, stepping outside with his hands in the air.

“Y/n” Jungkook’s voice was shaky, “Whatever this is, is a misunderstanding. You’re still messed up over Yoongi and I get that—but” He dropped to his knees, “J-just drop the gun and talk to me”

The thing was—you no longer had anything to say. You were rightfully fed up with the lies. Not only was Namjoon clearly lying to your face, but moments after you received a message from Taehyung.

Taehyung. The emotional haze over Yoongi and Jimin had almost made you forget—that the puppet master still lived, and more than likely, was still pulling the strings. You were willing to bet Taehyung killed Yoongi. It was so perfect. His whole plan had been perfect from the start and you were burning to look him in the eye one more time just to beat him at his own game.

Of course it had to be Taehyung. Taehyung killed Jin—and almost killed you. He had been the mastermind. The king. And like an idiot you trusted him. You really, truly trusted him.

You trusted he would never hurt you.

Your mind whirred. Reason escaping you completely you began to question everyone you had been around. Everyone always told you Jungkook was a liar. Good for nothing. Controlled by the highest bidder.

Well, the highest bidder was no longer Yoongi. If Taehyung killed Yoongi, Jungkook was probably balls deep in his pocket too.

“I’m gonna ask you once. Slowly” You gritted through your teeth, “Who killed Yoongi?”

“Y/n—I don’t know. Okay, I texted you when I found out from Joon. Why would I kill Yoongi, huh?”

“Never said you did. I’m asking if you know” You shook your head. You didn’t have time for his evasive answers. You clicked off the safety, making Jungkook tremble.

“Y/n what the hell, I’m on your side alright?”

“When I told you Taehyung was alive—you didn’t really react much. Did you know it was fake the whole time? Have you been helping him?”

“Y/n—if you’re asking if I will work for Taehyung now that Yoongi is dead” He exhaled, “Then yeah, I will. That’s what I fucking do, Y/n. Not all of us have popstar boyfriends who can take care of their every need. I gotta make my living and this is how I fucking do it. But you asked me to find Jimin even when Taehyung had kidnapped him and I did. I brought him to you. Taehyung isn’t after you. He just wants you to stay away from him. He would never hurt you, Y/n. And if I haven’t made it clear yet—neither would I”

“Oh you’re defending him now?” You raised your eyebrows.

“No—I just—Y/n just leave it alone. You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now, trust me” You scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gulped. “I don’t know who killed Yoongi, honest. Namjoon was the last person I know who even saw him” He paused. “I’ve known Namjoon for a long time Y/n. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.”

You shook your head. There was no way. Namjoon would never kill someone, let alone someone you cared about.

You’d had enough.

“Tell Taehyung I’m coming for him. He’s not getting away with this”

Driving Jimin’s car. You had forgotten the delirious high of stepping on that pedal and zooming through the highway without a care in the world. Nostalgia panged in your heart as you recalled simpler times, when you were hooking up with Jimin—and not being hunted down by a ruthless gangster.

You arrived at Jimin’s apartment, unsure if he himself was there.

He wasn’t.

You knew he would be mad. You truly had appreciated his effort to stay calm in such a situation. You felt bad for the way you acted but you needed Hobi and Namjoon to think you were against Jimin. After all, Taehyung was always watching.

Tearing off your clothes you ran into his room, ready to surprise him and hopefully, convince him not to let out his anger at you. Jimin arrived a few hours later. You heard his offbeat steps. He’s drunk. Quickly you grabbed one of his shirts, threw it on before meeting him in the kitchen. His eyes widened upon seeing you.

“Y/n—” His voice was soft. Slurred. Eyes shot red—you were unsure if he was even truly conscious.

“Sshh” You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your lips to his neck. “I’m so sorry baby. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

You felt something cold against your skin. Tears. Your heart dopped into a pit. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me” He mumbled into your skin. Carefully, you led Jimin into the bed, slipping under the sheets next to him. You held him close to your chest, hoping that the beat of your heart might give him some solace.

Jungkook’s words echoed in your mind: You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now. You thought back to the previous day. How Namjoon had so easily convinced you to give up on the man who clearly adored you? He baited you. Swung the news of Yoongi’s death in your face all too conveniently. Was Namjoon working for Taehyung too? The two men hardly ever interacted. But you were cross examining everything you ever thought you believed. The only truth you could hold onto now, was Jimin.

Jimin had no reason to lie. No reason to kill Yoongi because you had already chosen Jimin. Whoever killed Yoongi needed a good enough motive. Taehyung had motive—he wanted Death Valley to himself. There wasn’t anyone else unless…

Your eyes fluttered shut.

It must have been the middle of the night. You felt Jimin stir next to you. Cautiously you let your eyes flutter open.

Jimin jumped up, gasping for air suddenly. He was breathing heavily, a cold sweat breaking out all over him. You quickly brought a glass of water to him, guiding it to his lips. Stroking his back, you calmed him down until he was able to look you in the eye.

“Get the fuck out of my house” His voice came out broken. As though he had been yelling into a void for hours and no longer had any fight left in him. When you didn’t move, he pushed you away. “Did you hear me? I said get out.”

The frightening part was that he wasn’t raising his voice. Anger laced each syllable that left his quivering lips. A sense of desperation swept over you—he had to hear you out.

“Jimin—baby, I’m sorry, okay I was faking it” Jimin leaped out of the bed, the glass of water spilling across the bed. His fists were clenched tight. Jaw locked, eyes glaring.

“I don’t care why you did it, Y/n. You promised me you would come straight home from work. You didn’t. I come and find that you publicly agreed to marry someone else?” He huffed, kneeling to shuffle through his drawers. He found his pill bottle, twisting the cap off and dropping a few tablets into his palm. You went over to him, grabbing his wrist before he could take them.

“Why do you think I made such a fuss about you leaving? I don’t want to suffocate you Y/n. I don’t want to hold you back but fuck can you blame me for being scared? I swear one day you’re saying you love me the next you’re off with Yoongi or making out with Namjoon. I love you—and I think you love me too. If you’re planning something tell me. You keep hurting me Y/n—you keep making me miserable by breaking my heart” Looking you dead in the eye, he tossed the pills into his mouth, gulping them down.

“Jimin. I know you didn’t kill Yoongi. Namjoon thinks you did, and I admit, for a moment I believed him. But then I got thinking, and I realized it had to be Taehyung” You let go of his hand, only for Jimin to sat back down on the bed, head hanging over in defeat.

“And in all that time you had to think you couldn’t bother to give me a fucking phone call?” Jimin gritted through his teeth. You knew he was right. You had been acting out for some time now—and the fact of the matter was: you were overwhelmed.

Jimin watched your conflicted face. So much had happened. You had never taken a second to truly reflect. Realizing you loved Yoongi despite his obsessiveness. Finding out what he had done to you. First you thought Jimin had died at the hands of Yoongi—then Yoongi at the hands of Jimin, all while Namjoon had been pining for you, and you faced the biggest betrayal when Taehyung left you to die in the fire.

“I can’t do this” Your voice barely above a whisper, you quickly began to gran your things. You needed to be alone. You needed to think. You dashed for the door but Jimin was faster. He blocked you with his arm, cornering you against the door.

“You’re not leaving”

“You literally told me to get out” You screamed. It didn’t matter than he hadn’t raised his voice. It didn’t matter than he was only inches away from you.

“You do not speak to me like that” Jimin whispered. His eyes bore holes into yours. You shuddered under his gaze. “Do you understand?”

You nodded.

Jimin hissed, fingers cupping your jaw. Tilting your face towards his. “Words”

“Yes”

His gaze shifted. You recognized it right away. The predatory, lustful gaze whenever he wanted you. Pupils turning dark. Laser sharp.

“Let me in” He whispered against your cheek. His breath tingling against the heat rising to your face. “Let me in to that twisted little head of yours”

You kissed him.

With a slight turn of your head your lips were on his. Familiar. Comforting. Yet ablaze with the same carnal desire as when you first met him. It was exhaustion and relief. It was pain and sadness. It was you and him. Nothing so imperfect, so uniquely flawed had ever made more sense to you.

“I love you” Your lungs had no air—but the words were easy to say. In a sea of lies maybe this was the only truth you needed. Gasping you jumped up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his hips—arms around his neck. He was warm. Melting you down. Inhibitions released.

He was being gentle. You may have wanted him to be rough but it wasn’t what you needed right now. He carefully carried you back into the kitchen, setting you on the countertop. Shelved between your thighs he gripped your hips, rocking to a slow rhythm, your bodies pressed up tight.

His fingers trailed over you, until his hands found your face. Cupping your cheeks he kissed you more intensely. His lips were so soft. Incredibly sweet. Everything else seemed to disappear.

He backed away, catching his breath. When his eyes fluttered open, you could appreciate again how beautiful this man was.

“You drive me crazy Y/n” He blinked at you, pressing his forehead to yours. You grinned—to which he lifted you back up as you squealed, giggling as he swung you around. Pressing your back against he wall he held you steady on his thigh, fingers finding your aching core. Gazing into you, he watched as you squirmed under his touch. Your pussy clenching as he rubbed tight circles against your clit. He was beyond turned on, seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he touched you. The way your lips parted and you fingers dug into his flesh.

“Shit you’re so fucking hot” He let you land on your feet before dropping to his knees. You stared down at him in shock, hand weaving through his hair as he peeled off your panties. He pressed his nose to your pelvis, breathing you in deeply. You blushed, thighs trembling as his tongue found your clit, licking soft kittenish striped around the sensitive flesh.

Heat burned through you—twitching through your veins. Your heart pounded, nails scraping against his scalp—tugging at his hair. “F-fuck, baby” You moaned—his hands pushing your thighs apart.

“You taste so good baby” His deep voice vibrated through you. You sighed, missing his warmth suddenly. Pulling him back up you pulled him in for another kiss—tasting yourself on his wet lips. Your tongue sliding over his. Moans passing softly between the little space between you two.

“Want you inside me” You felt him smirk under your lips, heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah?” He breathed into you, cocky, teasing—edging you on. “Of course you do” His hands slid to your ass, roughly grabbing a handful before spanking you lightly. He rolled his hips into you, bulge pressed against your clit. The friction was amazing, but you wanted him to fill you up. You needed him deep inside. Needed to feel closer.

Your fingers tugged at his waistband, and Jimin simply chuckled as you pulled down his pants. Not missing a beat he hooked your leg over his elbow, kissing your ankles—down your calf, before finding your lips again. His other hand tugged at his cock, lining it up with you—grinning when he felt your weat heat suck in his tip so eagerly.

“You’re dripping for me angel” He whispered. You blushed, quivering as he sank a little deeper into you. You pulled off your shirt. He bottomed out, staring at your chest.

“Fuck, why are you so perfect?” He groaned, unsure if it was from the pleasure of being inside your tight cunt or your breasts hanging out in front of him, all for him—him only. He pinched your nipples between his fingers, eyes glued to the way you face twitched with pleasure. He loved how you looked when he made you feel good. He never wanted to stop. One hand steadying your leg, he carefully pulled out all the way till the tip—your slick coating him, dripping from him. It was amazing to see, as he entered you again, his breath became shaky. You felt so good, so warm around him. You were the best he’d ever had.

Forearms caging your head, he gently traced the side of your face, dragging out and thrusting back in. It was red—heat—burning desire. He took it slow, but you could feel his desperation in every move. His lips brushed over yours, his taste a whisper away.

You lowered your leg, pushing him away so you could turn around. Quickly discarding his own shirt, he cupped your breasts with his hands before pressing his chest into your back. His fingers leaving sparks across your body as his cock slipped back inside you, the sound of his hips pounding against your ass echoing through the room.

“Fuck” He cursed, kissing the nape of your neck before grabbing your hair—pushing your face to press up against the wall. Lips on your jaw, moaning your name as he thrusted in and out, like he had no time to lose. You gasped for air. His cock filling you up so good, hitting you right where you liked it. Your legs felt numb, trembling in bliss as he continued to drive into you.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He whispered into your mouth. Your eyes were watering with need. “Oh, poor baby wants to cum so fucking bad doesn’t she?” You nodded weakly, his fingers finding your clit again. Flicking at it.

“Jimin—” Your voice was broken. Lost in pleasure, “Feel—so good, fuck”

He smiled, “Go ahead baby—look at me when you cum. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock”

Your eyes locked. It was want. Need. And everything in between. This was all you’d ever wanted, it had always been him. You weren’t ready when you first met him, and neither was he. You weren’t what he expected, and he was everything except your fantasy.

In it’s own, twisted way, it was love at first sight. Obsession at first sight. Hate—turned into something so beautiful.

“I’m gonna cum, Jimin” You liked that you could say his name. You liked that he would say yours. His eyes softened as he felt you tighten around him. It hit you like lightening—you fell apart in pleasure. It was ecstasy—the high you’d been chasing all along. The high only he could give you. He groaned loudly, spilling into you moment after as you twitched in his hold. You dripped all around him, soaking your thighs.

“I love you, Y/n” He kissed you deeply, panting into you, “I love you so much”

“I love you too, Jimin, always” You assured him—cupping his face, “It’s always gonna be you”

“Talk to me” He gazed at you sincerely, nothing but adoration in his eyes, “Just talk to me, whatever you’re thinking, I wanna know. Okay, I trust you. So please, just trust me too”

You nodded, leaving a final chaste kiss lingering on his lips. “I do. I have one last thing to take care of, and then I promise we can go away. Trust me one last time. I’ll come back to you”

You were never a high heels kind of girl. But there was a lot of press tonight—press expecting you to make an appearance tonight. The stunt had created so much buzz that Hobi specifically hired hair and makeup for you. He allowed Namjoon to pick out your dress—it was black. Tight fitting. Simple. Sleek. Teardrop diamond earrings and a small necklace.

You’d never wear this to a concert. How were you supposed to dance? Let loose. But then you remembered—tonight wasn’t supposed to be fun. Not for you.

You had thought long and hard about what you were going to say to the press waiting early outside. Hobi instructed you to wait for Namjoon before making an entrance. You called Jimin earlier, letting him know where your head was at. He seemed to be supportive of whatever decision you decided to go—as long as you didn’t embarrass him any further.

It had been a while since you had seen Namjoon. He had always been somewhat of an afterthought, and yet you knew you had led him on hopelessly. It was time to come clean. You were unsure how he would take it.

“Wow” Namjoon stood in the doorway of your fitting room. Leaning against the side—he looked breathtaking. Ripped jeans, black tank top—were those earrings? Your eyes widened. You’d never seen him in glam, but admittedly it suited him. His abs protruding through the soft fabric. He looked like a dream.

He looked like Jimin. Back then.

“Why would you want me in heels?” You whined, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, “Please let me change”

He pouted—as he always did, knowing full well you’d never say no to his pretty eyes. “I like knowing you’re dressed for me” You giggled, inviting him inside to sit down.

“God, I want you right now” He looked up at you, hands on your sides, running up and down the silky fabric. Pinching at it. Ready to tear it off of you in a moment. And you knew he could—his biceps flexing, you had almost forgotten how big he was. How strong.

You clicked your tongue, teasing him as you slid his hands off. “You have to get ready for your big night”

Namjoon ran his fingers through his hair, leaning back slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about that actually—can I bring you out on stage? I wrote a new song about you, and was planning to open with it”

You shifted your weight. Clearing your throat in discomfort. You truly had wanted to wait until after the show to talk to Namjoon about your relationship—but this complicated things.

Like a saving grace, Hobi appeared in the doorway. “Your limo is here, let’s go”

You held onto Namjoon’s arm. Taking a deep breath, the two of you stepped outside where cameras were lined up for miles. Lights. Flashing. Your name being called. Shouted. It was dizzying. The limo door was open and Namjoon led you there, allowing you to slide in with ease. The car was gorgeous inside—golden velvet seats, glasses of champagne. So this was the life of a rockstar’s girlfriend.

You were an object. Candy on the arms of someone who mattered.

Namjoon noticed your demeanor change, covering your hand with his. “Like I was saying baby, I really want my fiancée up there with me for my first concert”

The word stuck out like a sore thumb. It made you nauseous to think about. “Namjoon—that wasn’t real” You reminded him cautiously. You couldn’t afford to make him upset, not right now.

Namjoon was taken aback. He looked baffled, hand moving to your wrist. “It was to me. You love me, don’t you?”

Oh God. You paused.

You shouldn’t have paused.

“You love me, don’t you?” He repeated his words. Except his voice was getting loud. The space was getting small. The windows were tainted black. The lights were too dim to see clearly. You licked your lips nervously, carefully trying to pull your hand away from him.

You needed to speak. You had to tell him the truth, but when you looked into his eyes you saw something familiar. Something deranged. Yoongi’s eyes.

“You ungrateful whore” Namjoon’s voice was booming. You’d never heard him yell. Never thought him capable. Your eyes shut, shielding you from his terrifying voice. “Don’t you know everything I’ve done for you? I’m the only one who really knows you—knows what you want. And I became that—look at me Y/n” He grabbed your face, “I am everything you have ever wanted. I’ve been by your side through all of it. I’m the only one who gives you control. I saved you Y/n—I protected you every step of the way. I didn’t know bringing you to Death Valley was putting you in danger but Taehyung promised it would mess with Jimin so I agreed.”

Your eyes flew open. “Wait what?”

“I saved you from the fire Y/n—when Taehyung tried to kill you—it was me! I waited outside of Jimin’s apartment for days, I even tried to break in and get you out. We’ve taken on the world together Y/n. It was always us against them”

Jungkook’s words came back to you again. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.

“You’re saying, you knew Taehyung was behind all of this, from the very beginning? I thought you two had never met”

A panicked look crossed Namjoon’s eyes. He gripped your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “We hadn’t met. Technically”

You rolled your eyes, “Well Namjoon—technically, I didn’t say I loved you. So get the fuck off of me”

He didn’t move, “You can’t be serious Y/n—I’m the reason he hasn’t been able to hurt you. I protected you from him, from Jimin, from Yoo—”

Your phone buzzed. Namjoon tilted his neck in irritation as you clumsily pulled it out. Taehyung? You opened the text—your eyes widened. Namjoon’s eyes narrowed as your breathing came to a sudden halt. Blinking, you put your phone away, meeting Namjoon’s desperate gaze once again.

“Tell them to stop the car”

You could feel him tremble, his nails digging into your flesh. “No”

“It was you. You killed Yoongi—and tried to pin it on Jimin” You shivered in his hold. You couldn’t have another Yoongi in your life. Another man who was willing to shape your environment to have you. To control you. To see you as nothing more than a trophy.

“Yoongi was horrible to you. I did you a favor, baby. I did everything you wanted. You owe me” Namjoon hissed—his hold unwavering. He dove for your lips, roughly snatching them between his. Anguish flooding through his touch. You groaned—unable to move—unable to push him away.

He was so big. His muscular chest pressing against you. His breath hot, mingling with yours. Eyes shut—lost in bliss while yours were wide open. You had never seen more clearly. When had Namjoon become this monster? And had it been your fault all along? Did you do this to him?

As guilt plagued your thoughts, Namjoon took it as an opportunity to go further. Other hand on your thigh, he slipped his fingers under your dress—hooking them around your panties before yanking them both down sharply. The fabric burned against your sensitive skin. But he could care less. His bulge was throbbing, pressed tight against your hole he jerked his hips. The button of his jeans giving a painful relief to your core.

As if awaken from a haze you placed your hands on his chest—attempting to push him away. He smirked at your effort—you couldn’t move him. There was no way. Namjoon was far stronger than you—and you knew that.

With a swift motion of his hand he unbuttoned his pants, allowing his eager cock to spring up. Tugging at it, he looked back into your eyes. You shuddered at what you saw. He was gone. The Namjoon you knew wasn’t in there. He had lost it.

“Wait—” You could barely breathe. The lack of air driving you to a sense of faintness. Weakly you called out his name, hoping you could get to him. Break through to the Namjoon you really knew.

“Don’t fucking act so innocent, Y/n” He hissed, “I know you better than all of them. I know you love this. I know you want to slobber all over my cock, let me bounce you up and down on it until your crying for me. I know you want it to hurt—baby I’ll make it hurt” He tightened his grip. Instinctively your fingers came up to your neck, attempting to pry him off so you could breathe. “I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted don’t you see, Y/n? It’s always been me. By your side from the very beginning. I’ve seen it all. Every step of the way. I love you and you love me it’s been us against the world—don’t you see?” His words were incoherent. You were beginning to lose consciousness. At some point Namjoon slid inside you. Lips parted in pleasure, he thrust into you—tight and hard.

Your eyes threatened to close. Mind going blank as the image of him began spotting. You didn’t know who you were wishing to come save you. You were so tired of being saved. Of needing to be.

Weakly you slid your hand up his chest. Over his neck and cupped his cheek. Kiss me—you tried to speak but nothing came out. Namjoon seemed to get the hint though. He let you go and you gasped for air—a short lived effort when he swallowed your lips once again.

His cock burned inside of you, dragging against your walls your pussy trying to push him out but he heathed himself deeper and deeper. It felt good—you hated that it did. You hated that it was him as his lips slid to your neck, sucking love bites across your shoulders.

You felt claustrophobic. You needed air. You needed space—tears began to build in your eyes. Your free hand searched for your phone—fumbling it in your hands as you dialed the name popping up. You felt the device vibrate, and a wave of relief swept over you. You were not going to surrender.

You still had a little fight left in you.

“You didn’t just kill Yoongi” Your fingers found the back of his head. Namjoon looked up—lips swollen, breathing heavily. Eyes blasted with lust and need. “You became him”

Namjoon growled, shifting you with ease until you were on top of him, holding your neck against the car door. You grinned—reaching for the champagne glass you tosses the liquid in his face.

Reflexive, his hands went to his face, wiping the burning alcohol from his eyes and in that moment you rolled aside, opening the car door. It didn’t matter than your panties were hanging from your ankle. It didn’t matter that your neck was bruised.

The car was driving fast. There was no one else around. You could jump.

Weighing your options in your head, you hear a loud engine some ways in the distance. A motorcycle caught up to the limo—the rider, a bed of jet black wavy hair that you recognized all too well. Eyes closed, you took a moment, Namjoon grabbed for you but you kicked him off.

You jumped.

Namjoon arrived at the venue, royally pissed off. You ruined his big night—how could you? Were you really that selfish? He knew Jimin would be there. He was ready to put an end to things once and for all. No gun on him—he wasn’t worried. Jimin was small. Jimin was weak. And not nearly as devoted to you as he was. Not willing to go the extra mile to have you.

Ignoring the cameras who plagued him with questions, he pushed past the crowds and marched backstage. His fists trembling, his heart beating fast—blood pumping adrenaline like never before. He was feral. Ready to kill on sight.

Jimin stood backstage, sitting at a mirror and touching up his own makeup. He noticed Namjoon behind him, eyes rolling slightly.

“Good, you’re here” Jimin said, a mocking tone in his voice. Upon closer look, Namjoon could see that Jimin had been removing his makeup. “Hobi has been informed, but I will not be performing tonight. The stage is all yours, asshole.”

Namjoon grabbed Jimin’s arm, “What?”

Jimin chuckled, “You’re such a fucking idiot. Though I suppose all new stars are” He looked him up and down, “Wow, you’re real original aren’t you? Are those my clothes?”

Namjoon swung a punch. Jimin ducked in time. He was no idiot. He knew he couldn’t fight Namjoon.

Luckily, he wouldn’t have to. He had already won.

“Aren’t you wondering where Y/n is?” Namjoon hissed, pacing around Jimin ready to swing at him again.

“I know where she is, Namjoon. I also know what you did to her. And if it were up to me, I’d shoot your sorry ass into the ground right now” Jimin sighed, “But that’s not what she wants. So go out there, and do what you’ve always dreamed of. Leave me and Y/n alone because I swear to you Namjoon—I might leave but I’m always gonna have eyes on you—and I’ll have you dead in an instant.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah” Namjoon turned to see Hobi, gun in hand. “It is. Do what you were hired to do, Namjoon. Let her go”

Namjoon screamed, falling to the floor. Jimin and Hobi exchanged amused looks.

“We better get some great songs out of this” Hobi muttered to Jimin. He grinned widely.

One year later.

The warm glow of early morning sun rays filtered through the white curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, a sense of bliss washing over you as you processed your surroundings. Outside the ocean glimmered, waves softly scathing over the shore. Children ran across the sand—couples played in the water. You turned back to see the love of your life lying peacefully, tangled in the white sheets. The comforter hanging off of him, his toned back bare and ever so still. You picked up his shirt from the ground, buttoning it up as you walked over to the window.

A package was waiting for you. A black box, tied neatly with a red ribbon—no indication of who it was from, or where. You noticed the window was cracked open a smidge. Carefully you untied the ribbon, sliding the top off the box to reveal its components.

It was a leather jacket. The jacket. Jimin's jacket.

You look outside, searching—unsure what for. You see a camera on the edge of the building across from yours.

You smile.

Setting it aside, you quickly crawl back into bed, wrapping your arms over Jimin’s back, and pressing kisses all over his neck. He hums softly, unwilling to wake up. You nuzzle against him, before allowing your eyes to fall shut once again. Dreams overtaking you.

series navi | masterlist | scream in my ask box

a/n: and scene! thank you for reading and for being so incredibly patient! i hope this was satisfying <3 i love you all!!

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rydiathesummoner · 3 months

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Ranking the FFXVI dominants according to how good they would be at singing

#8: Jill.

Sorry Jill, but singing is not in the cards. Her early life in the north was wartime, and her side losing. Probably not a lot of singing lessons. Given how Anabella called her savage and viewed her as marriage stock it's unlikely she ever learned how to sing. No biggie though, she would rather shovel chocobo shit than perform in front of people anyway. Sometimes when it's just her and Clive, she will hum off-key. Clive thinks her humming is the most beautiful sound in Valisthea and doesn't even notice she's off-key because if Jill is happy enough to hum, then that's the best thing ever and beautiful and perfect.

#7: Hugo

Singing is for sissies. Pansies. Only weak men participate in the arts. Why learn to sing when you can have the glory of combat, gold and women?? That said, he was able to hold that "FUUUUUUUUUUCK" pretty well so he might be able to hold notes just as well.

#6: Joshua

He probably had music lessons as a kid so he knows the theory and can carry a tune. However, he spent his voice-changing puberty years in a coma. It probably took him ages just to get used to his body doing all kinds of wild new shit for him to re-learn how to sing. He might sing along in a crowd for holidays and ceremonies, but he's mostly lip-synching. It also doesn't help he has an alien in his chest and a tendency to cough up blood. Good luck projecting your voice with that.

#5: Cid

Yeah he's a bit off-key, and?? He's a former military commander, not a theater star. He doesn't give a shit if he's singing well or not, he's going to get drunk, sing his heart out with his buddies and if you don't like it, well the door's over there. He gets the lyrics right, mostly! What he lacks in skill he makes up for in style and getting the (bar) crowd involved. Not to mention his speaking voice is great, right? Just... kind of add a tune and it's still gonna be better than average.

#4: Benedikta

Despite her impoverished background, her singing is pretty nice. She really excels in sultry and jazzy/blues types of songs. Obviously she uses this surprising skill to entice men and not because she enjoys it or anything. To her it's just another tool in her kit, and like any tool she keeps it sharpened with plenty of practice while slinging her weapons around. Everyone in the weapons range loves to listen to her singing but they don't dare say anything.

#3: Barnabas

He has a rich and beautiful baritone. He could have been a star if he hadn't elected to be a murderous slave king to a deceitful god. He doesn't sing anyway though. Singing is useless. Unless it would summon Mythos. Wait, will it attract Mythos for the Lord and Master? Could singing potentially buff Mythos to prepare him to be even stronger for his Master? He's heard tales of such people from other stories. Better sing while battling Mythos. Just in case.

#2: Dion

His singing voice is stellar. His singing is like a clear night's sky. But you'll never hear it. He doesn't sing in front of others. That's... awkward. He's a weapon, not an entertainer. What would his troops think if he started belting out the show tunes he secretly loves? That's not how a Proper Bahamut™ acts! They would either never take him seriously again or make inappropriate song requests constantly and he's not sure which one is worse. He'll sing for Terence though. He gets flustered when Terence encourages it but does it anyway and secretly enjoys singing for him. Terence knows he secretly enjoys it. That's why he asks. Well, that and his voice really is amazing.

#1: Clive

Of course the theater kid is number 1. He was the star of all his Rosarian school musicals. He's been singing his whole life! As a kid some of his favorite memories are belting out old songs with Uncle Byron and his dad. They used to fantasize about becoming a singing quartet once Joshua was older if they didn't have the whole royalty and eikon thing going on. When he was enslaved by the Imperial army he didn't sing much, except on rare occasions with his fellow Bastards after a long mission and some smuggled alcohol. The bastards are confused why Wyvern has such a beautiful singing voice but whatever he kills good too. Once he's freed and has accepted himself he feel the urge to get back into singing again, but by now he's feeling a bit awkward about it. Like how does one approach the topic? "Hey guys, I'm a great singer check it out!" No, that's too weird for Outlaw Cid, he can't force it. He wishes to himself that there would be a singing contest or at least a drunken sing-along at the Fat Chocobo so he can finally show off his talent, or that Jill would somehow spread the idea around so somebody could ask, but so far he's been disappointed. Someday the Hideaway will hear it. Someday.

#shitpost #ffxvi #ff16 #final fantasy #clive rosfield #joshua rosfield #dion lesage #hugo kupka #jill warrick #benedikta harman #barnabas tharmr #cidolfus telamon

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bingbongsupremacy · 10 months

Text

Pen Pal

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Warnings: Slight mentions of homophobia

Summary: You've been Pen Pals with Ellie since you were in 5th grade. Will you finally get to meet her in person?

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

November 3, 2028 (10 yrs old)

Dear Y/N,

My name is Ellie. I'm a fifth grader in Miss James' class in Wyoming. I like Savage Starlight and cookies. My best friends' name is Riley.

Do you have a best friend? Do you like Savage Starlight?

Sincerely Ellie Williams

November 10, 2028 (10 yrs old)

Dear Ellie,

Hi! It's nice to meet you! I love Savage Starlight! My brother hates them though. He never takes me to buy them at the book store :(

My bestfriends' name is Julie! Cookies are cool! I like ice cream. I have a dog. Do you have a dog? Do you like frogs? I like the color pink. Do you like pink?

Sincerely Y/N L/N

June 20, 2030 (12 yrs old)

Dear Y/N,

How's your dog? Joel's teaching me how to play the guitar! I learned how to play a song yesterday! I'm so happy.

Riley and I are planning on going to the fair tomorrow. I wish you could come. I bet you'd love Riley! Maybe some day you could meet her.

I finished the new addition of Savage Starlight yesterday and I'm so fucking sad. Did you finish it? I won't spoil. Let me know if you did so we can talk about it!

Sincerely Ellie!

June 28, 2030 (12 years old)

Dear Ellie,

I have bad news. Pepper died.

She died last night. Mom said she got really old and died in her sleep. Pepper was a good dog. I'm going to miss her.

I'm really sad. I wish she was still her.

I haven't finished Savage Starlight yet. I'm waiting until I feel happy. Maybe in a few days.

Sincerely Y/N

August 3, 2032 (14 years old)

Y/N,

Riley's moving away. She came over and told me today. I'm really sad about it. She's been my friend ever since kindergarten.

She's moving to Boston.

I found an a cute ice cream shop yesterday and thought of you. Maybe some day you can see it. We could get ice cream there and then look at the comic book store.

I can't believe Savage Starlight is fucking ending. I've been reading it since fourth grade. I don't want it to end. How do you feel about it ending?

Love, Els

August 9, 2032 (14 years old)

Els,

I'm so sorry about Riley. That sucks. I hope you guys can still talk.

I'd love to go to the ice cream shop and comic book store with you one day. My brother went off to college today. He's studying to be a doctor. Cool right?

I don't want Savage Starlight end either. I wish it could go on forever. Fucking sucks.

I think you're my best friend.

Love, Y/N

September 12, 2032 (16 yrs old)

Y/N,

I won first place in the art show! I'm so fucking happy. Joel took me out for ice cream with Sarah yesterday. We had so much fun.

Do you think we should start using email? Or texting? Joel got me phone yesterday! I'm so excited! Here's my number if you want to text xxx-xxx-xxxx and my email: [email protected]

I've started working out at a local gym. I love it. I'm going every day. I think I might do something with space when I'm older. I really like space.

Also, I'm gay.

Love, Els

September 18, 2032 (16 yrs old)

Receiver: [email protected]

Subject: Hi

Els, this is my email! I'll send you a text right after this. I'm so happy for you! First phone yay!! Also congrats on the art show!

The gym is fun! And space is so cool! I'm not sure what I'll do yet when I'm older. I'm still deciding. I'm glad you know what you want to do though.

Also, cool! I'm glad you feel comfortable telling me! I love you, Els. <3

My brother's being a fucking asshole. He refuses to come to my birthday party because his girlfriend's parents want to have dinner the same day.

I wish you could come. Maybe some day.

Love, Y/N

May 2, 2034 (18 yrs old)

Receiver: [email protected]

Subject: So

I think I might not be straight. I'm not sure. I've only told you. I can't tell my parents. I don't know how they'd react. I know my brother would hate me. He's a fucking dick now. I don't know why he's the way he is.

My parents have started fighting a lot. Money problems I think. I think my dad might have cheated on my mom too.

I'm excited to go to college next year. I'm glad we got into the same school! We'll finally be able to meet. I've been wanting to meet you for years. Maybe I can finally get away from all the shit that's been going on lately.

I don't know why this all happened so fucking fast.

I hope you're well.

Lots of Love, Y/N

May 2, 2034 (18 yrs old)

Receiver: y/[email protected]

Subject: So

Hey, so I know how you're feeling. It'll take some time to figure out, but you'll get there. No matter what, I'll love you.

You're family sounds like a bunch of dicks. I'm sorry you have to go through that.

I've been talking with Joel and he said I could do this.

Do you want to come stay with me and my family over the summer? Maybe get a break from your family? We could idk finally fucking meet?

Let me know if you want to come to Wyoming. You could meet my friends. Then we could drive up to school together. It's not too far from my house. Maybe day or two away.

Also, I got a girlfriend. her name is Cat. She gave me this cool ass tattoo. I'll send a pic.

__Pic Attached__

Love, Els

My eyes scan over the email again, making sure I didn't imagine what I just read. Ellie just invited me to Wyoming for the summer! There's no fucking way I'm missing this opportunity.

I'm finally going to get to meet her!

My eyes land on the last line. I got a girlfriend.

Fuck.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou

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nozunhinged · 4 months

Text

8 BL BOYS I WILL THROW HANDS FOR

Omg omg omg @scarefox my dream has finally come true this is the first time I got tagged in one of these I'm so happyyyyyy thank uuuu 🥰🥰🥰🥰

So I selected my pokeboys extra carefully but unfortunately I haven't watched enough BL's yet to make it to 10, but please have these 8 I would protect with everything I have 🤲

1. Boston - Only Friends

Listen, all the shit they gave him during the show, I went through at least twice. Including the "stop being a slut it will ruin your life"-talk BY MY (THEN) FRIENDS. So I am insanely biased but I will sucker punch everyone until my last breath who dares to harm him in any way. Keep doing you Boston babes, I hope you have the most delicious orgys in NY.

2. Zouey - Playboyy

Another HUGE bias from my side, as I already elaborated here. Watching this sweet, sweet child dump all his pretty braincells into his first love is quite painful at times. But don't worry I'll kick Teena in his huge tiddies if he breaks Zoueys heart and then I'll proceed to put him in a blanket burrito and watch anime with him, promise.

3. Zongyi - Kiseki Dear To Me

If Ai Di couldn't go somehow, I'd be the first one to volunteer to protect him in prison. I'd learn all the prison politics and lift all the weights to throw hands at the scariest inmates just so this baby boy could keep making his lil cakes and dream of his gangster kitty.

4. Peach - Bake Me Please

Yes, the list of people I'd throw hands at for Peach includes both Guy AND Shin. This wonderful human being deserves no less than being pampered 24/7, showered with kisses and affection all year round. And both are not deserving of him, end of story.

5. Kim - Pit Babe

I certainly did not expect him to awaken my protective instincts and I am very aware this man wouldn't need anyone throwing hands for him but I'd gladly step up to help him do his lil investigation thingy and hand winner his loser trophy. I'd also throw hands at everyone who wouldn't let this guy finally race his car in peace.

6. Khem - The Sign

He may not need bodily protection as well, but I will forever believe the cheating allegations are a misunderstanding and if they're not I'll defend that he's dedicated enough to go as far as to make it through the most hellish elite training program just so he could keep groveling at his ex-lovers feet and call him baby.

7. Sky - Love In The Air

He may have Prapai now but that wouldn't stop me to throw hands at anyone who dares to harm him. Fort said is favourite scene was when Sky was so happy he could make it to the first year event and that was when I knew I'd protect Sky with my life too.

8. Sangwoo - Semantic Error

Us Autistics have to stick together and I already loved him in the webtoon. I love how he is 100% unapologetically himself and I will roundhouse kick everyone who dares to try to mock him for it. He's my favourite savage.

✨Bonus ✨

Hyun - The Kings Affection

Not a BL boy even though officially his love is a man, but I wouldn't just throw hands for him—I'd part seas, move mountains, destroy continents and conquer new universes just for him. I cried for approx. 2 hours over his last scene and didn't give a crap about the couples happy end. All hail King Dimples. He deserves everything our cosmos has to offer. He needs to be protected at ALL COSTS. If you watched The King's Affection, you know what I'm talking about. If not, read this.

✨✨✨✨

Thank you thank YOUUUUU my dearest @scarefox for tagging MEEEEE unfortunately I do not have enough moots to know who to tag so everyone who stumbles over this on their TL can feel tagged ❤️❤️

#i love it here #bl boys #only friends the series #kiseki: dear to me #playboyy the series #the sign the series #pit babe the series #semantic error

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thevulturesquadron · 2 days

Note

Hello! 👋 Could you list some of the best comic books that explore the Rogue/ Magneto relationship?

Hey there!!! 👩‍🚀 Oh gosh! With pleasure! I might be a bit rusty because I haven’t gone through older Marvel comic books in a while and also because I am not up to date with the recent years of X-Men comics BUT there are still a couple of issues that are very dear to me when it comes to Rogue & Magneto, so happy to share:

It all started in the year 1981:

1. Uncanny X-Men #269 ; Uncanny X-Men #274 & Uncanny X-Men #275 (1981, Written by Chris Claremont) [The story is pretty self-contained to these 3 issues and it all starts with Rogue realising that her Ms. Marvel powers are gone and Carol Danvers somehow has her own body now. (a very simplified context of what was going on in that era with the X-Men) I absolutely love Rogue in these issues. She has sass and personality, and she still carries a lot of her energy from the 80s.]

2. X -Men Volume 2 (Issues #1 - #3) - (1991, Chris Claremont) [They meet again after the events in the Savage Land, now on opposite sides.]

3. Magneto Rex: Issues #1- #3 - (1999, Joe Pruett) [This miniseries… is a bit weird and needs some context. It’s at a time where Marvel really wanted to have Magneto return to his evil ways and be a villain for the X-Men (regardless if it made sense or not). Not one of my favourites and generally can live without but it’s a ‘next stop’ in their interactions, so adding it to the list.]

4. Then we have X-Men Legacy! ( 2008, Mike Carey) [This one is a chonker, and to make things worse it is connected with other series running at the same time. It has pieces of Rogue and Magneto through the entire run but all in all, the story sees them reunite under the same team in Utopia (starting with Legacy #231). The full run of Legacy can be difficult to follow up on but if you have the time, it’s really worth it. It’s also the first story in YEARS where Rogue is allowed to shine and do her own thing. If you need a more detailed list of what issues are really worth reading, in what order and what is happening in between them let me know and will be happy to write down a breakdown!]

5. Memorable mentions in the main series: There are quite a few tiny bits about them in the comic books but here’s a list of issues that give more context to how they interact and how they feel about each other:

a. Marvel Fanfare #33 - (1982, Chris Claremont. I love Rogue in this one and it’s such a nice example of what a good and powerful duo they can make. Something that is later explored in Legacy as well. b. Legacy #223 (during Rogue’s journey to control her powers) we have a glimpse of how she remembers and sees Magneto’s presence in her life. c. Magneto #10 (2014, Cullen Bunn) - Similarly, a glimpse into Magneto’s mind on how he remembers Rogue and the impact their connection in the Savage Land had on him. d. Mr & Mrs X #6 (2019) - there is a page between Rogue and Magneto where, in all that mess, at least Magneto’s honest feelings for her and his care for her happiness shine through.

And last but not least, Age of Apocalypse. [This is a completely separate timeline that the comic books liked to visit from time to time. In this universe Rogue and Magneto are pretty much in love and married but… it’s a very tragic universe. Original series started in 1995; then it got revisited in 2005 and again in 2015… I think? The series… is far from perfect, there are so many things that can be described as unhinged (dialogue included) but, there is so much love for these two characters and I absolutely recommend it if you are ok with investing some time into reading it, and most of all if you are ready for a real heart break (again and again).]

Hope this helps! Happy to go into more details or put aside a cleaner list if interested! 💜

There are a couple other mentions in the comics so in case I missed something important I will summon one of the gods of endless knowledge when it comes to X-Men to correct or add to the list: @maedelin

#rogue #magneto #erik lehnsherr #x men #anna marie #rogneto #rogueneto #mavel #comics!!!#yes!#hope the list doesn't look like a mess #anna marie adler #textpost

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ghostismybbygorl · 1 year

Text

Alright more headcannons

Pt.1

Ale-ale-jandro

Actually hates the song alejandro by lady gaga. If rudy is mad at him he'll play the song in the car full blast to piss him off

He's 38

Hes got a BIG family. He has 7 siblings he's the oldest out if all if them

hes got a brother (36) with two daughters (6) (8)

A sister (32) with a son (10)

Twin brothers (25) one of them has a daughter (3)

A sister (20) who has a 1 year old girl

A brother (12)

A baby sister (7)

Hes roman catholic and goes to mass regularly with his family

His patron saint is St. Jude Thaddius

Him and soap will go to mass together

He's got a necklace of Guadalupe that his abuelita gave him before she passed. Every time he goes into battle he kisses the necklace and prays to his abuelita for protection

He has a tabby cat named diablo that he rescued off the streets. The cat's a total asshole to everyone but rudy.

Him and rudy are married but no one knows except for his family

This man can salsa dance like nobody's business. Dont get him near tequila or youll be learning how to dance the tango, salsa, square dance everything from him

He's a happy flirty drunk

When he's mad he'll forget how to say english words so he'll just stand there snapping his fingers trying to explain what he's trying to say but getting even more pissed because he can't remember the word.

Accidentally got high off of heroine one time. He was on a mission and somehow a bag of heroine opened up in his face causing him to inhale some. He said it was the best high he's experienced but swore to himself to never do any type of drugs after that experience in fear of getting addicted

Casually pops his neck and it'll crack LOUD

Takes a nap at 3:00 sharp. If he doesn't take his nap he will be bitchy for the rest of the day

He listens to latin r&b when he's relaxing and bad bunny when him and Rudy are alone together.

Being the oldest of the family hes a very nurturing person. When you're sick hes by your side with sopa de fideo, vics cream, and some medicinal tea

This man can and WILL cook. He used to cook with his mom and abuelita when he was younger

He loves to make tamales it reminds him of home

His family goes all out for Christmas everyone has stockings, they all get hella gifts, they sing, dance, bring over homemade food. They all will go to midnight mass and then open presents afterwords when they get home

He's always the best gift giver

His house looks like this and he still lives with his whole family (click the numbers i also have a link to the Pinterest boards if u wanna see more)

1, 2, 3

He has those candies that Abuelas give out

Rudy rudy

Hes actually savage af. He'll absolutely roast the shit out of you and hell say it in the most casual tone

Loves bad bunny

Hes 30

Hes a only child

He has the most obscene slippers

He drinks coffee religiously. He's a regular at starbucks. His favorite starbucks drink is the java chip Frappuccino with two extra shots of espresso and coconut milk

He loves del rosa cookies snd can open them without breaking them. He gets really upset if he does. It happened one time before and he was close to tears

he loves diablo like its his own child.

He was the one to propose to Alejandro. They where sitting on a couch watching tv when he just pops the question "you want to get married?"

He's scared of anything supernatural. Dont even get him started on horror movies he will legit start praying the hail mary

He gives great massages

He's hella lactose intolerant like reenacting world war 3 in the bathroom intolerant.

since he doesn't have a big family rudy and his family will celebrate Christmas together with Alejandros family.

He absolutely loves the cheesy telenovas

He has a iguana named pakko.

He lives in Alejandro house with his family

He gets really out going when hes drunk he'll start singing and dancing

Price

Religiously plays wordle

He'll bring his bearded dragon into work ever so often. It always creeped ghost out for a while but eventually grew used to it.

He like to put little costumes on his bearded dragon

HE HAS A FAMILY PHOTO OF HIM, HIS BOYFRIEND, DOG AND DRAGON IN MATCHING CHRISTMAS SWEATERS. (He paid ghost big money to make the sweaters)

He doesn't shave his beard at all during november and his beard will get hella long. He usually does this because he dresses up as santa for christmas and goes to children shelter to give children christmas gifts.

He's like hella good with kids, babies especially. If he sees a baby crying he can instantly make it stop crying its like magic dad vibes.

When hes drunk he'll reminisce about the past and tell the same stories over and over. He also gets really nostalgic with laswell

He's the one to throw the christmas parties he takes it hella serious its a requirement that everyone wears a christmas sweater

His house looks like this

1, 2, 3

He has those LOUD sneezes

He takes dad naps. He'll just say he's resting his eyes and then just knock the fuck out.

He saws logs when he naps

Has a squatty potty

Ghost

Knows how to sew and can pretty much make anything. Every year he makes little plushies for everyone for Christmas

He keeps it a top secret but he has a 7 year old daughter that he adopted. Her name is Samantha

When the team first met her they nicknamed her ghoul and she loved it

She has her own little ghost mask and she wears it around the base when ghost brings her to work

Price absolutely adores her and will often volunteer to babysit if ghost is busy with a mission same with laswell

He plays animal crossing in his free time. He says its relaxing or that hes "taking care of the kids island"

His house looks like this

1, 2 3 bonus his daughters room 4

You know the scene in parks and rec when ron swanson was drunk off of snake juice...yeah thats him drunk

He'll face time his daughter when he's away every day

He has chronic insomnia so he'll stay up days on end until hes tired and then he'll pass out on his bed and sleep for a whole day.

He lets his daughter pain his nails. He came in one day with hot pink nails 💅🏼

He has a tattoo of one of his daughters drawing and a tattoo on his ribs of his daughter's handwriting saying "i love you daddy"

His nipples are pierced

He's giving his daughter a puppy for Christmas

Laswell

Her and her wife have a daughter who's 10

She made price her maid (or i guess man of honor?). He was so thrilled and of course sobbed when he saw her walk down the isle

She met price at a football game in london

Shes 40

When shes talking to her wife she'll refer the task as her kids. "Hey do you want to come to dinner with the kids?"

She wears scarfs all the time

Laswells daughter and Samantha are best friends and they will often schedule play dates and sleep over

She gives out the most heartfelt presents. If you talk about something you want 5 months ago she'll buy it and give it to you on Christmas.

Her house

1, 2 3

When theres a party with the boys she, her wife, price, and his boyfriend will watch all the stupid shit they would do and laugh at them

She has a Pomeranian named Annabelle

She does yoga with her wife

She gets sleepy when she's drunk and will probably fall asleep on prices sholder

She loves the smell of rosemary

Soap

He has a apartment which looks like this

1 2 3

He has a girl roommate who keeps the apartment tidy and clean while he's gone. (he very much appreciates her and always cooks and does the dishes for her). She likes to roast the shit out if him when he's home.

He has chronic pain in his right knee which causes him to wear a knee brace occasionally

Hes smokes the elf bars vapes. His favorite flavor is the rainbow candy

He got a tattoo of a heart on his butt cheek. He has absolutely no clue when he got it

He loves tequila drinks

Hes a cocktail type of bitch. The boys will be sipping on bourbon and soap will be over here with like a lemon drop martini or some fancy cocktail.

He wears jockstrap underwear. He says it makes his ass look great but he also wears those funny briefs like the ones that has emojis or cereal theme

When he's nervous he'll start rubbing his stubble

As a April fools prank he grew his beard out and cut it like price's beard. He then proceeded to walk around with his hat and a cigar and act like him for the whole day. He later convinced everyone to do it the next year. Ghost somehow sewed a beard to his mask for this.

He snorts when he laughs hard

He will do any dare someone tells him to do. Gaz jokingly dared soap to snort smarties thinking that he wouldnt do it....he did it......he still smells smarties from time to time.

Ghost and him have matching tattoos if skeletons dancing

He likes to listen to indie alternative music his favorite artist is steve lacy

When soaps drunk he gets all lovey dovey to everyone and he'll start singing sea shanties and pop songs.

He has a snack stash. Everyone will be debriefing and he'll just randomly pull out a snack and start eating

Hes always hungry and eating. His favorite snacks are gummies, oreos, and Takis

He will eat ANYTHING i mean ANYTHING. He's tried the weirdest foods out of curiosity and from dares.

Absolutely love's Christmas he wears ungly Christmas sweaters the whole month of december. He has a whole closet full of them

He loves candy canes and will go through multiple boxes of them throughout the month

Hes a nail biter

He's the god father of ghosts daughter.

He has a shower beer after work (a/n: its when you drink beer while you shower very life changing highly suggest it)

Hes really good at soccer

He sleeps in the most random spots and funniest positions. Ghost has a whole folder of all the weird places soap has slept. Everyone will fuck with him in his sleep and do random shit to him here's a few photos of what he would sleep like and what they do

Gazzy

He gets chronic migraines

He is a very VERY emotional drunk. He'll be happy and dancing and next he'll be crying over his goldfish that died 7 years ago

When he's mad his atlanta accent will kick in.

He's very sensitive to certain textures he loves sof blankets and has them littered around his apartment

He's a Very picky eater like the pallate of a 5 year old

He LOVES auntie annes mac and cheese and will eat that on the daily (its his comfort food)

He's allergic to bee's

Loves foo fighters

He can play cello

He's has ocd and will freak out if things dont go his way. Price usually has ti calm him down if he has a freak attack

His favorite anime is darling in the franxxs

He has a whole squishmellow collection on his bed

He really likes to paint him and soap will often chill out in the common room and just do artsy shit together

He loves sending reaction memes

He taught price the woah and now throw the woah at him

If he sees soap the both will look at each other and then do the biggest most dramatic way of the whip

He makes secret handshakes with everyone. Hes still trying to get ghost to do one

He arranges the secret santa and he always gives the most ridiculous presents

He loves to do yoga with laswell and her wife

His apartment looks like this

1 2 3 4

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a-casual-kpopfan · 2 years

Text

Consequences and Regrets

Halo halo, this is ghost writer speaking. It's been a while since I've written another short, and this time, I followed Casual's footstep and wrote an angst Hope you guys will enjoy it, and give us more tears to fill our pot muehehehe…

~~~~~

This is wrong, I shouldn't do this.... Hyeju thinks to herself, her lips claimed by someone and squished against the wall of the apartment.

He's waiting for me.... She feels her clothes getting ripped off her clothes, her body caressed and touched in a hungry, almost savage way.

"What are you thinking baby? ~" The man asks, a wicked grin on his face as he looks at her with a lustful, predatory gaze.

"Thinking of him, perhaps? ~" Hyeju's body stiffened at the question, her eyes darts around in an attempt to avoid the question, yet her body shivers underneath the pleasure he is giving her.

"After today, you'll forget all about him~"

"After all, can he please you like this? ~" he kisses her lips roughly, his dirty hands touching all over her private place, yet instead of repulsion, she feels pleasure and disgust at herself.

"Can he do it like I do? ~" The man leaves numerous hickeys on her neck, marking her at his.

A mistake she so dearly regrets.

He can't never do it like you because he's so gentle. That's what I love about him…

Gradually, her body succumbs to the pleasure that the man is giving to her. Her legs turn wobbly, almost falling before the man catches her, lifting her up and carries her to the bed. He looks down on her, like a predator looking at its prey, licking his lips with a grin "You are mine~"

"...I am yours..." Hyeju succumbs fully to his vile, domineering nature The deepest part of her mind yells at her, screaming and wailing, broken because of her adulterous act.

Yet all Hyeju can do is to surrender to him.

I'm sorry…

~~~~~~

Meanwhile....

You have been waiting for 2 hours, sitting alone in the VIP room that you have rented for privacy, with waiters standing by waiting for your orders. With a heavy sigh, you decide that enough is enough, and signal a waiter over. "It seems like I have wasted your time, you guys can go now, I'll still pay for the full service, so don't worry."

The waiter looks at you for a while, then smiles, a smile contains politeness, trained professionalism, and a hint of pity. "You have chosen our services, so of course we have to serve with our utmost respect."

You smile gently at the response, tipping the waiter generously before asking him to share it amongst his coworkers, before leaving the room, with a table full of already gone cold food. Not like you have any appetite to eat now.

Exiting the restaurant, you calmly make your way towards your car, showing absolute calm, just to break down into a crying, sobbing mess the moment your back lean against the seat.

You cry your heart out, cry for the years of relationship that you've committed, for the love that you hold for her.

Foolish, she doesn't love you, she wouldn't have done that if she did love you. You cry for everything you have sacrificed for her, everything you did to make her happy, everything...

After what felt like hours (it was just minutes) you receive a message. A message from an unknown number.

It only contains 2 words: "she's mine." Attached with a picture of a naked back, something that you are very intimately familiar. After all, you have laughed, cried, hug, even kissed it.

Once your safe haven, now look very foreign and distanced.

At that moment, you have decided. It's time to die disappear.

With surprising clarity, you scroll to a number in your phone, and dial it without a second thought. The line rings...1 ring...2 rings...3 rings. That person answered.

"Oppa?"

"I need your help, Bunny." You say with a trembling, hoarse voice, the product of all of that crying.

Stop crying, she doesn't deserve your tears, not anymore.

"Oppa, what happened? Aren't you supposed to be with Hyeju right now?" The voice clearly shows concern for you.

Unlike a certain someone

"I... I can't take it anymore, enough is enough...." Your voice starts to break down as all the emotions come up to you, clogging your throat, preventing anything sound from coming out of you, except of your muffled sobbing.

"I'm sorry oppa, I truly am...."

"It's not your fault Bunny, don't apologize for her...." even amongst the sobbing, you couldn't help but manage a little chuckle for her, someone who is apologizing on the behalf of her friend, someone who is innocent, yet got caught up in this mess.

"...Will we see you again oppa?" Now it's her turn to cry, her voice shivers, and trembles, as the thought of never seeing you again break her heart into pieces.

"I don't know Bunny. I truly don't know...."

"... Then I wish you a good trip, a-and...." she is full on crying now, her voice a sobbing mess. "If fate wills it, we will meet again, ok..." Somehow, her weak voice, filled with sincerity and emotions, breaks you even more than the fact that your girlfriend cheated on you. All you could do is to turn off the call then bails your eyes out yet again, until you feel yourself almost collapse from exhaustion.

No, not now. you think to yourself before driving off to your shared her apartment.

~~~~~

2 hours later:

Hyeju runs into the almost closed restaurant, her hair slightly disheveled from all the running. If anyone is keen enough, they can also notice that her dress is crinkled at all the suspicious parts, namely the chest, hip, and thigh parts.

Looking around for a waiter, she tries to ask a question before she got interrupted.

"He left" The waiter that served you answer her question before she got to ask it. " You are looking for the gentleman that rented to VIP room, correct? He left, 2 hours ago" The waiter looks at her with equal part recognition and contempt.

"Olivia Hye huh.... you might be an idol, but that's no way to treat your partner like that, leaving him hanging for 4 hours." Luckily his voice is small enough that no one can hear him, but she can feel the contempt and disgust he holds for her. "Go home, we don't serve people like you." With one last cold glance, he sends her out of the restaurant, locking the door behind her.

Despite being treated rudely like that, Hyeju can't muster any anger towards the waiter, or any fear of being recognized. She knows, she deserves it, after everything she has done to him.

With a heavy heart, Hyeju reluctantly makes her way back to her shared apartment with him, hoping to ease his anger and disappointment at her.

She would rather him scold and hit her than all the kind, forgiving things that he has said to her. Those words hurt more than any kind of wounds she has ever had.

Maybe because he was too kind, she had taken it for granted.

What awaited her at home Isn't the sight of him waiting for her at the couch, his eyes equal parts angry and affection towards her. Isn't the sight of him cooking in the kitchen, with the aroma filling the entire home. Isn't his gentle smile greeting her every time she came home late.

What greets her is silence, cold, dark, bone chilling silence. An apartment devoid of life, sending chills down her spines.

".... Jagi?" She calls out to him, hoping that he is only sleeping, and that...

But her fear quickly becomes true, the more she goes through her apartment, the more she couldn’t find any traces of him. No signs of his shoes, of his clothes, of his laptop, not even his toothbrush and towels can be found.

The only thing she can find, however, is a small piece of note on top of a small black box. Slowly, she picks up the note on top of the black box, its content simply contains a few words: For the girl who broke my heart, that box will be the last thing you ever received from me. Goodbye Hyeju.

Without needing to open the box, his words are enough to bring her to tears, her body shivers and trembles as small sobs turn into full on ugly wailing as she clutches the piece of paper to her chest, holding it tightly like it's her life. Only one thought surfaced in her head now:

I lost him....

~~~~~

With her brain in autopilot mode, her brain all consumed by the grief and sadness, she stumbles back to her dorm with the other members with miraculously means…

Why wasn't she hit by some random cars? She deserves it.

Entering the dorm, she is immediately greeted by a sobbing Heejin, with the other members consoling her, almost no one noticing her presence. Almost no one.

Heejin's ears perked up the moment she hears Hyeju entering the dorm. Hyeju can't help being see an image of a bunny overlapping her, no wonder why he always called her "Bunny".

With surprising strength, Heejin breaks out from the comforting hug of the other members and strolls towards Hyeju.

SLAP

To everyone's horror, Not Hyeju, she has predicted this she slaps Hyeju, leaving her staggering before leaning against a wall. "Why did you do it?" She asks with a cold, chilling voice. Hyeju can do nothing but look down in shame.

"After everything you had done, after everything we have done for you. After everything he had done for you, even giving you his forgiveness and trust, why did you commit it again?". All eyes fall on Hyeju now, eyes full on surprised, anger, even contempt and disgust. "I...." is all Hyeju manage to utter.

Heejin trembles as she looks at Hyeju with both anger and sadness. "It should have been me...." She says, her voice lacking any of the previous anger, instead containing a sense of sorrow and misery. "His attention, his love, his everything should have been mine... I am his best friend, his longest friend, it was supposed to be me...." Heejin's body starts to tremble, collapsing on her knees in front of Hyeju, her hands grasping her pants so tightly, its nearly ripped apart.

"I love him... but he… He's gone now..."

Heejin devolves back into a puddle of tears, sobbing and crying until she can't anymore.

"W-what did you say unnie?? What do you mean, 'he's gone'?!" Hyeju starts to panic, her mind trying to register the words that her unnies have said.

"Oppa accepted the business proposal and decided to move oversea. At this moment, he has already left Korea, he has already left us...." Haseul answers, her answer contains hint of sorrow, as he wasn't just Heejin's best friend and Hyeju's boyfriend, he was also a brother to everyone here, so his departure evidently left a mark in everyone here, some more than other.

Hyeju cannot bring herself to say anything. How could she? She's the cause of everything. She can only cry, cry for her disgusting acts, cry for betraying him again and again, cry for something she lost, and can never be recovered.

#loona fic #kpop fanfic #son hyeju #olivia hye #male reader #loona #fanfic

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inevitably-johnlocked · 9 months

Note

Hey Steph!

I’m headed to Scotland on holiday next month and want to get into the mood, do you have any fics set in Scotland?

Thanks

Hey Nonny!

Ah, good question, let's do a quick search! Feel free to add more, friends, if you have them! I'd love more!

Hope you have a wonderful trip!! I would LOVE to visit Scotland!

SCOTLAND FICS

See also:

Johnlock and Kilts

Travelling / Road Trips (Updated July 2023)

The Cure for Snoring by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 1,278 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Conversations, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Fluff, Domestic, Platonic / Sleepy Cuddles) – Sherlock and John spend the night in Scotland after finishing a case. The sole Inn in town only has one room left...one bed. This would be fine - if not a bit awkward - if Sherlock hadn't developed a habit of snoring loudly. John suffers through many hours of sleeplessness before he discovers that skin-to-skin contact stops the noise. Part 1 of Dreamscapes

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Rel., Road Trips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk. “Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

MARKED FOR LATER

the dead-end case of the kilted kirkyard killer by darcylindbergh (E, 8,823 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Scotland, First Kiss/Time, BAMF John, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Banter) – In which Sherlock follows the wrong man and gets more than he bargained for.

The Bachelors' Handfasting by Jberry (E, 30,624 w., 20 Ch. || Regency AU || Arranged Marriage, Virgin Sherlock, 1800′s Scotland, Bodice-Rippeer, Romance, Kilts, No Period-Typical Homophobia, Smoll Sherlock, Suicide Discussion, Romance, Miscarriage, Depression) – After her son is caught in a compromising position, Victoria Holmes must make arrangements for a quick marriage between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

The Straw Man Fallacy by Vulgarweed (E, 40,422 w., 8 Ch. || Wicker Man AU || Ritual Sex, Sacrifice, Mystery and Horror, Romance, Fuck or Die, Dubious Morality, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pagan Festivals, Public Sex, First Time, Case Fic, Virgin Sherlock, Scotland, Kilts) – Summerisle is not a welcoming place to visitors, but it shows its best face at May Day. For ulterior motives.

Bread and Lighthouses by Ayla221bee (M, 63,958 w., 22 Ch. || Mystrade Lighthouse Keeper AU || Fluff and Angst, Romance, Lighthouses, Baker Greg, Friends to Lovers, Disabled Character, Disabilities, Scotland) – Mycroft ends up taking an opportunity as a lighthouse keeper in Scotland to take comfort in the isolation to avoid his past. Greg has been running the local bakery for the last three years after a life in London. Part 1 of the The Lighthouse series

Savage Music, Sombre Light by snorklepie (E, 66,635+ w., 15/? Ch. || WiP || Kidnapping, Angst, BAMF John, Sherlock’s Past, Relationship Issues) – “On the whole, Sherlock reflected as the door shut [quietly, carefully, definitely NOT a slam] behind John Watson, it hadn’t been a bad innings. He honestly hadn’t expected it to last even this long.” Part 3 of the Scotland Series

October to Hogmanay by snorklepie (E, 127,318 w., 25 Ch. || Post HLV Fix-It, Awkward First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Sherlock is a Mess, Shameless Smut, Sherlock’s Past, Scotland, Poison, Holmes Family, Kilts, Dancing, Angst) – John stared at Sherlock’s profile against the cab window and exhaled slowly. After a long moment, he reached out and touched Sherlock’s long fingers where they were fiddling with the button on his coat. The tall man didn’t look around again, but his fingers slowly unfurled before curling deliberately around John’s hand. Part 2 of Scotland Series

The Edinburgh Problem by snorklepie (E, 152,095 w., 39 Ch. || Post-HLV/S3 Fix It, Pre-Slash/Bromance to Romance, Travelling, Humour, First Kiss/Time, Holmes Family, Sherlock’s Big Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Family Secrets, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Flashbacks, Attempted Sexual Assault, Jealousy, Implied Rape/Non-Con) – After he separates from Mary, John returns to Baker Street. Following a request for help from Sherlock's cousin Violet, the detective and his blogger take a trip to Edinburgh. John discovers more about the Holmes family and Sherlock than he bargained for, but tries not to run screaming. Part 1 of the Scotland series

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #scotland fics #road trip fics #my fic recs

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 2 years

Text

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 1: Return

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Welcome, everyone, to The Courting Fic lolz, the prequel to my first fic here. This is from Daemon’s POV, and Daemon is a bit of a weird dude so please just be aware that most of this is probably going to be NSFW in some way or another. Feel free to let me know how I’m going!

TRIGGERS: rough sex, objectification of women, incest, references to pregnancy.

“King Viserys sent him into exile, never to return to the Seven Kingdoms on pain of death… Of the aftermath, these things are certain. Following the tragic mishap of Lady Rhea Royce’s untimely death and the Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding to Ser Laenor, Daemon Targaryen returned to the Stepstones and resumed his struggle for those barren storm-swept rocks. The subsequent decade found him abroad in Essos, keeping residence with various highborn families in Pentos and holding court with his paramour Mysaria, returned to him after an extended period of absence. It was only with the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s third son Prince Joffrey, and the announcement of his second daughter’s search for a husband, that King Viserys finally wrote his erstwhile brother, bidding him to come home.”

- 'Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros' by Archmaester Gyldayn

"Ah, my Prince!"

Daemon ignores the wailing of the whore below him as he pounds viciously into her, grinding his teeth at the sound of her high-pitched mewls. Pathetic, he thinks, slapping her across the rear hard to see if he can make her cry a little. He smiles, an unpleasant, savage thing, as he’s rewarded with the very thing he wants. She buries her face in the sheets so that all he can see of her is her arsecheeks, her arched, too-thin back, and the silver hair spilling from her head. The wrong shade, he muses, but close enough in the dark. The thought angers him. He pulls out of the girl (a mere slip of a thing, really) and drags her off the bed, drops her to her knees before him. Her tearstained face renews his flagging arousal, and he tugs frantically at himself at the sight of her wide, overwhelmed eyes.

"Finish me," he snarls, and throws his head back with a moan as the girl takes him in her mouth, choking him down eagerly. He grasps onto her hair and pulls her further along his shaft, revelling in the frantic spasms of her muscles and the muffled cries that send such delicious vibrations down his cock.

"Fuck, that's it, girl," he says, holding her head and using her with little care. He grunts when he comes, pulsing down her throat, making her swallow him down. When he lets her go, she pulls off him quickly, sputtering and retching.

Still throbbing from the unsatisfying climax, he ignores her, choosing instead to cross the room and take a swig of wine directly from the jug. He mumbles a vague response when she thanks him with scratchy tones, and turns around. She's already arranged herself back on the bed, stroking at herself between the thighs, an expression of sultry enthusiasm upon her face as she sells her performance. In any other circumstance, he'd be perfectly happy to let her continue, let her play with herself until he had hardened again, until he could fuck her into the mattress, or on the chair, or perhaps even pressed over the balcony overhanging the bright city. But tonight, the sight annoys him.

"Get out," he hisses at her, tossing a robe over his naked form. He enjoys the fear that crosses her face as she takes in his words but makes no move to allay her. "You heard me," he repeats, and watches the whore gather herself off the sheets, tugging on her dress (though it’s barely a dress).

"W-what of my payment, my Prince?" she asks timidly, and he'd like to be impressed by her boldness – but the whore is boring him, and a bored Targaryen is a dangerous one.

"Add it to the Prince of Pentos' tab," Daemon replies, taking another swig of wine. When he observes her still there, making no move to leave, he barks at her. "Well, girl? Are you deaf? Get out!"

Pentos is a lively metropolis. Even at night, the sounds of laughter, drunken fighting, exotic merchants selling exotic wares and the chatter of foreign tongues fills his ears, and he wants to scream with the monotony of it all. It should excite him – but it only makes him feel flat, hollow. He's bored.

"I ran into the girl you were using, my Prince," comes the lilting voice of his favourite whore behind him. "Did you not like this one?"

"She was fine," Daemon replies shortly, ignoring Mysaria as she rests beside him and idly trails her hand down his exposed chest.

"I worked hard to procure her for you," his dark-haired mistress continues, not quite leaning into chiding territory though the threat of it remains. "Valyrian stock is hard to come by, even in Pentos."

"She was no Valyrian," he snaps, pushing her hand away and walking back inside, cursing himself for doing away with the wine so early. It may be shit, but at least it got him drunk well enough. He collapses on the chair, eyes closed and head back, hoping the woman would get the picture quickly.

"What ails you this evening, Daemon?" she calls from the doorway. Fuck. He glances back up at her, abjectly noticing her concern for him etched in the outline of her features. She is beautiful this evening, his whore, sumptuous frame garbed in blood-red and mysterious eyes lined in thick kohl. She treads forward, standing before him, placing her hand upon his head. "You have been unlike yourself all afternoon."

The urge to fight drains from him. He jerks his head towards the nearby desk where the source of all his issues lay opened, waiting for a new reader to claim the words upon its pages. He says nothing as she saunters over to read its contents – merely resumes staring at the back of his own eyelids, listening to the sound of the parchment ruffle as she adjusts it.

"The Princess Rhaenyra has been delivered of another son – Joffrey, of House Velaryon," Mysaria voices, and the sound of the words spoken aloud is enough to bring the anger back. Mine, that should be my son, not that pillowbiter's or that fucking Strong cunt– "Oh – and your little niece is to begin courting soon."

Daemon pauses in his tirade. He had not noticed that little piece of news upon first reading Viserys's letter.

"Which one?" he asks her. There's two now, isn't there? Or was it three?

"The second one," Mysaria tells him.

He thinks consideringly of his younger niece, the only one besides Rhaenyra he has any recollection of, not having bothered to spend time with any of the spawn his brother had fucked into his vacuous Hightower bitch. You were a child when he was exiled for the final time. He’d finally outlasted Viserys's seemingly infinite patience with the little stunt he had pulled with Rhaenyra, first taking her to a pleasure-house and then making a scene at her wedding. Fucking Laenor.

A little beauty even from a very young age, there was something distinctly unearthly about you – a solemn, almost-clairvoyant cast to your wide little eyes that unnerved him greatly. Rhaenyra was easy enough to understand – she was a reflection of himself, like looking into a mirror and finding the contents skewed slightly. But you, you were a strange one, shrewd and reserved, though he loved you as much as he had ever loved Rhaenyra as a child. It was impossible not to love you, as sweet and shy and enigmatic as you were.

He finds himself wondering what you are like now that ten years had passed. You’d be a woman-grown now, or near enough.

"Your brother calls you home, my Prince," Mysaria continues. He'd forgotten she was talking. "He says it has been long enough."

"He does, does he?" Daemon spits, though it has not the vitriol behind it he wishes for. If he’s honest with himself, he has been yearning for the familiar sights of King's Landing, though he would never profess to call it home.

Mysaria sighs. "You should go," she says, and he can feel her eyes upon him from her seat at the desk. Her words are surprising. If he were to leave, she'd surely lose her position as esteemed guest. Whores were only respectable if they were fucking a man of station, after all – and if he were to depart, where would that leave her?

He asks her. She laughs, and strolls over to him, seating herself upon his lap. His arms go around her automatically, a rote movement ingrained from years of habit.

"Oh, Daemon. I am only here for you. If you were to leave, I would move on as I did when you discarded me last time."

Her words contain no accusation, and he feels suddenly fond of her. Here is a woman who has no expectations of him beyond money and a good fuck, and he likes to think he's provided both in abundance over their long acquaintance.

"Will you miss me, my dear?" he asks her, grinning wryly up at her. He’s taken aback by the fact that he is actually considering it, making the journey back to Westeros.

"Of course, my Prince," she replies playfully, though they both know it’s a lie. Mysaria is fond of him, 'tis true, but she has no love for him, nor he for her. It is a mutually beneficial alliance, nothing more and nothing less. "But I shall always be around, should you have need of me once more." This is true also, he knows.

He considers the notion again. Returning. Going back to the Red Keep, all those fucking people staring at him, judging him with snide faces and side-eyes. That Hightower whore and the progeny she shoved from her dried-up cunt running his brother into an early grave. Rhaenyra and her bastard boys (that shirtlifter husband of hers and that fucking Strong) and his little niece, freshly plucked and waiting to be wedded and bedded.

"Well," he says, already decided. "I do suppose I'm going home." The announcement seems to lighten some latent tightness across his chest, and he realises with dawning comprehension that a part of him actually misses his former life. He looks up at his lover mischievously, already reaching up her skirts to slide a finger into her, thumb at her pearl. She gasps and parts her legs for him obligingly, working a hand around her neck to undo the laces that tie the dress to her. "Fancy a farewell fuck?"

As he approaches the Dragonpit, he is nearly knocked out of the sky by a great hulking creature. He whips around frantically as Caraxes lets forth a chilling cry. At first, he thinks he sees the Black Dread flying free once more. He looks again and realises his mistake. It is a dragon, no doubt, but this one is much smaller than Balerion had been in his final years (though the colouring is similar) and far quicker and more snappish than the old beast had ever been. It is a fearsome specimen, nonetheless. The sound of its low, booming roar sends a thrill of excitement and terror down his spine.

Now, there is a dragon worthy of House Targaryen, he thinks to himself. The goliath is flying away, and out of self-preservation Daemon chooses not to follow it, urging Caraxes back on path to the Pit.

The attendants are swarming as he lands Caraxes, trying in vain to rein him in. Caraxes bellows, having grown used to the freedom allowed to him in Pentos, and Daemon knows his boy will not allow himself to be chained any longer.

“Henujagon ziry!” he yells as he dismounts, calling off the Keepers brandishing their spears. Leave it!

“Dārilaros ñuhys –” My Prince, cries one of the Keepers.

“I said, leave it!” Daemon snarls, rounding upon the man, sneering as he bows in obeisance. “He’ll not be chained.”

The Keeper is replying, but Daemon is already bored. He swings himself onto the horse provided, choosing not to wait for the carriage he is sure has been made available, and makes his own way through the winding streets of the city. As he passes, the curiosity of the people turns to excitement, trepidation, fear. The whispers carry him all the way to the Red Keep. When he arrives at the steps, a party is waiting for him.

“Prince Daemon!” bustles the Lord Lyonel Strong. Daemon notes with distaste that the man has gotten fat and is now balding. It seems the position of Lord Hand suited him ill over the years. “We were not expecting your return!”

“I did not send word,” he replies neutrally. As he searches Strong’s attendants, he notes one that makes him want to pull Dark Sister from its scabbard and stab an eye or two out. Harwin fucking Strong.

The man is as noble as ever, a pretty boy made ruggedly handsome with the sprouting of facial hair in his fifteenth year. Since then, he’d been annoyingly good-looking. What a cunt. Daemon smiles, a clench of teeth bared tightly toward the Lord Commander of the City Watch, and nudges past the remainder of the assembled people.

“Brother?” the King’s voice pipes incredulously as Daemon strides into the throne room, a makeshift assembly of high-ranking personages already present in expectation of his arrival. He averts his eyes from his brother’s form – oh, brother, what have they done to you? – and genuflects, eyes pointed to the floor.

“Your Grace,” he proclaims. “I have returned. I hope I am welcome after all this time.”

“Of course, you are,” Viserys breathes, hoisting himself off the Iron Throne. He seems not to notice as the action tears at a portion of his sleeve, a thin slice spreading on the skin of the arm remaining to him. The King makes his way down the steps, limb outstretched, and Daemon steps into the hug that is offered to him. In many regards, his older brother is the same. He has not lost his stoutness, and the smell of him is familiar, though it has been overtaken by the stench of herbs and poultices and the rot of impending death. He fights back the bizarre and unwelcome urge to cry. As fraught as their relationship has always been, he had never truly expected – nor intended – for his brother to die. “Welcome home, brother.”

Gone is the girl that he’d left in this very same room, adorned in a wedding dress and looking like the Maiden come to life. In her place stands a woman, regal and daunting, though no less beautiful. Her hair is braided up, her waist thickened from the toil of bearing three sons, the arch of her nose crooked by some unnamed past hurt, her eyes closed off and her expression impassive in a way that it had never been before. It hurts him to see her, the same and yet different. He supposes that he had been expecting her to remain unchanged by time, still waiting for him to return to her someday. But the look of yearning he had been hoping to see – the yearning he had felt in his bones for all these years – is simply not there.

He blurs through the remainder of the afternoon, a never-ending carousel of lords and ladies bowing and scraping before the King’s brother, eager to welcome the Rogue Prince back to Westeros. He cares for none of it. He wishes only to speak to Rhaenyra, to find out if the years had hurt her as much as they had hurt him. Eventually, they set him free. He is clear to seek out his eldest niece, only to find that she has departed while his back was turned. He goes looking for her, wandering the familiar halls of his childhood and meandering all the way to the Princess of Dragonstone’s apartments.

When he knocks on the door, he hears her voice again, a woman’s voice and not a girl’s. He opens the door. Her back is turned to him.

“Uncle,” she says lowly, turning to face him. Her countenance is blank, save for the soft twist of her mouth as she eyes the wriggling babe in her arms. This must be Joffrey, the new one. “I have missed you.”

Motherhood has changed her – it’s clear even in these first seconds. Gone is the time when her world revolved around him, when her eyes would follow him as soon as he stepped into the room, eagerly awaiting the moment that he would bestow his attention upon her. No, now her gaze falls upon her boy, absorbed by the small snuffles and slow blinks of the child wrapped in blankets and looking up at his mother.

“’Nyra,” he replies just as lowly, stepping forward as though to make his way to her, then aborting the notion as soon as it passes through his mind. “You’ve changed.” He does not mean to be so unfeeling, for his words to be so lacking. It is all that can escape him.

The familiar fire sneaks upon her face at his words.

“Yes, well – ten years will do that, Daemon,” she bites out, turning to place her son in the cradle beside her and hushing at him as his snuffles turn to whines. He eases at the soothing touch of his mother, softens and quietens, and Rhaenyra steps away. When she looks up at him, her eyes are wet with unshed tears. “You left me,” she chokes out. “For ten years! You said you’d never–”

This spurs him into action. He rushes to her, enfolding her in his arms as he did when soothing her hurts as a child, as he did when she sobbed after her mother’s funeral. She even feels different in his embrace, a being so wholly unchanged and foreign that it sets him reeling, a wheel spinning wildly off its mount.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, rocking her from side to side. “I shouldn’t have left–”

“Don’t!” She pulls away from him, turning her back on him and wiping her eyes. “I don’t care for hearing your apologies, Daemon, not when they’re too late to mean anything.”

“Is it too late, then?” he asks boldly, stepping into her space, winding his arms around her, front pressed against her back. He is struck by how wrong the movement feels, but ruthlessly pushes it down.

“Don’t –” she begs, a whisper. It is the weakness in her voice, the trembling in his arms that presses him onward.

“Ivestrās hembidre tolī bōsa, Rhaenyra.” Tell me I have been away too long, he says, pressing his cheek against her hair, ignoring the ever-encroaching feeling in his gut that this is wrong not the same wrong wrong wrong –

“Daemon–” she lets out, before spinning abruptly in his arms and pressing her lips against his, a violent clash of teeth and tongue that befuddles him as she presses him back, pushes him against the table –

He turns them around, ripping at her dress, at the neckline of her shift as she works at his pants, frantically shoving at each other in a way that is more painful than pleasurable. He hisses as she grasps his cock and fists him roughly, too roughly, not the sweet, innocent way he had imagined she would–

“Fuck,” he exclaims, he can already feel himself softening in her grip. He tugs harder on her layers to expose her breasts, hoping the sight will renew him, but her breasts are not the maiden’s tits he was hoping to see. They are now swollen with sustenance for her children, beads of milk dribbling from her engorged nipples and running down the underside, not his not his not his– “Fuck,” he growls as his cock wilts, refusing to harden in her punishing hold, and it is then that he understands this will never be.

She seems to understand as well, because her hand retracts and she buries her head in his neck and cries. Cries the tears of a child waiting for the only man who ever understood her to come save her, to come home, the tears of a girl betrayed by the man she thought she loved, left to marry a boy who would never love her. The tears of a woman who has realised it was all for nothing. When his arms come around her this time, they are resigned, and he presses his eyes into her hair and cries too.

When they are calm, they re-dress (though she has had to search out a new dress) and sit together properly for the first time in a decade. She pours him wine, and he drinks in the first true taste of home he has had since arriving. Ah, Westerosi strongwine. None of that watered-down Pentoshi shit. She snickers gently at the expression that must have played out on his face.

"Is it to your liking, Uncle?" she asks teasingly, glancing towards the cradle as she has been over the past few minutes. It is truly a miracle the boy had not stirred while they were engaged in their battle of wills.

"Hm," he mumbles, smiling wryly at her. She did know him well, he supposes. "It's good."

The brief moment of levity passes. They stare into their cups for a time, not knowing how to move forward. It is Rhaenyra who makes the first move, surprisingly.

"So," she begins. "That happened."

He snorts. He has missed her bluntness.

"Quite," he replies, taking another swig of the wine, relishing in the fullness of the flavour as it bursts across his tongue. It is unlike him to be so reticent, but he is unsure of what to say, how to possibly put into words what he is thinking.

Rhaenyra beats him to the punch again.

"I think it's safe to say that won't ever be happening again," she says, looking over at him inscrutably. He sighs.

"No," he says, finally making eye contact with her. "I suppose not."

He supposes she is right. But it burns him to have spent so long wishing and hoping for something that would never live up to his dreams. There is an adage there, he thinks to himself, about being careful what one wishes for. It seems the fantasy he had conjured up would only ever be that.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," she exhales. "But we aren't the same people we once were. And I think you know that."

"I do," he responds, taking in her appearance almost wistfully. She really is beautiful, but life had changed their trajectories irrevocably now. She had made a family for herself, had become a mother, had taken up her true role and become something more than he had ever imagined her to be, while he… "Does he treat you well?"

He has to ask her; has to know she is satisfied with her life before he can let her go once and for all.

"Which one?" Rhaenyra laughs suddenly, wickedly. She knows he knows of the rumours, it would seem. It shocks him from his stupor, and he guffaws lightly in response.

"Either," he clarifies, still chuckling. "Both."

She smiles, looks over at the babe again. From what he can see, the boy is a handsome one, dark hair and pale skin and as bonny as any babe fresh to the world is.

"Laenor is a good man. He has never once begrudged me Harwin, sees him as part of us, even," she continues, narrowing her eyes at him as he snorts at her mention of the Strong boy's name, "and he treats the boys as his own. Calls them fine Velaryon specimens. You'd think he actually sired them, from the way he goes on about them."

"That's all very well and good, my dear, but how does he treat you?" Daemon presses, curiosity and some twisted desire to indulge in some self-flagellation prompting him to ask.

"He's my best friend," she says softly. "I trust him – more than I've trusted anyone. I love him, and he loves me, though it is not the love you'd expect between a husband and wife."

"I'm glad," he states kindly, and he is, though he smarts at the boy's new designation as his niece's most trusted. He had once taken that role in her life, after all. "And the other?"

It surprises him to see his unwavering niece colour bright red. The part of him that loves her purely is warmed to see such delight cross her visage.

"He is good to me." Her grin as she glances over at baby Joffrey again tells him all he needs to know. "He loves me, Daemon – and I love him, too," she says earnestly, as if beseeching him to understand why she had forsaken him. He does not begrudge her for finding love. That is too cruel even for him.

"I'm happy for you," is his response, and though it is a bitter loss, he can find it within himself to be pleased for her. He senses she has something else to add, but that something stops her. Searching for a means with which to tease it out of her, he continues the line of discussion. "Say, did I not hear something about the Strong lad wedding our very own cousin Laena?"

He is taken aback when the flush on her cheeks deepen further, and he leans in anticipatorily as he realises he has struck upon the correct line of inquiry.

"How is dear cousin Laena?" he asks, prodding, relishing the look of discomfort on her face.

"She is – well," she mumbles hastily, "and preparing to welcome a third child."

"Ah, well – I'm sure your Strong man is pleased," he pushes, baiting her to the finish line. He goes in for the kill. "And are you?"

"What?" Rhaenyra's head snaps up, her tone startled. "What does that mean?"

"It's merely a question, niece, no need to get so upset," he chortles over his wine. He pauses, gives her a moment to collect herself. "How long have you been bedding her, then?"

His niece knows there's no chance of hedging; he can see it in her features. She sighs, rolls her eyes.

"None of your business," she mutters, shaking her head as he laughs, victory in his tone. He had not been expecting his niece to be quite so adventurous, taking man and woman both as her lovers. But then, he is realising ever more clearly that he does not know this woman before him.

Suddenly, the door clatters as someone knocks, startling the babe in his cradle. He begins to cry, and Rhaenyra sighs as she makes to get up.

"'Nyra!" a man's voice calls through the wood. "You decent?"

"Yes," she responds, already taking the child in her arms and bouncing him softly to soothe him. "Come in!"

"Do you have any idea where I can find Luke, he's not with–" the voice of Laenor stops as he takes in the scene before him, and the guest he has found in his wife's chambers. "Daemon!" he laughs, striding forward to clap him on the back. Daemon rises and does the same, looking over Laenor as he returns the greeting. The past ten years had served him as well as they had served Rhaenyra. "I had wondered where you'd gone," he continues, beaming brightly at his former comrade-at-arms.

"Merely reminiscing with my niece," Daemon replies, glancing over at Rhaenyra. A look of fond annoyance has been pasted over her visage, and he wonders if this is the normal dynamic between the two.

"Try the garden, he'll be with her," Rhaenyra interjects softly, returning the now-soothed baby to the cradle once more. "And really, Laenor, do be careful with that fucking door. You woke Joff up again."

"Sorry, sorry!" babbles Laenor, reaching over the cradle to brush light fingers over the babe's head. Daemon is struck by how practised the scene before him is. The realisation that he has missed more than he can possibly comprehend begins to dawn on him more and more as he takes in the interaction between his niece and her husband.

"Who is 'her'?" Daemon frowns, catching up to the conversation properly.

"My sister – remember? Your other niece?" Rhaenyra questions, brow wrinkled. Well, how the fuck is he supposed to know that was what she meant?

"I remember her," Daemon retorts crossly. “Small little thing she was, when I left.”

It is true. You were a slight waif of a child, and your uncle had proclaimed you a ‘fairy girl’, ready to depart the lands of Westeros for your homeland of the Fae at any moment. You had squealed in delight as he tossed you in the air, a rare break from that steadfast, serious child, and he had grinned in pleasure at having been the one to affect you so.

Laenor cackles, the sound slightly unhinged as he shares a glance with Rhaenyra. Daemon frowns, insulted, though he’s unsure what part of his statement is the source of the Velaryon boy’s amusement.

“Believe me, my Prince,” Laenor laments, shaking his head sardonically. “What I would give to hear men call her that and only that, nowadays.”

“Oh, stop it, Laenor,” Rhaenyra smacks his arm chidingly, moving over to refill her goblet of wine. “If you keep that up around her, she’ll find somewhere else to hide and it’ll be that much harder to coax her out.”

“The little princess not enjoying her royal matchmaking?” Daemon interrupts, intrigued by the facet of knowledge gleaned about his peculiar little niece. He assumes the conversation has turned to the news delivered in that last letter, of the fact that the little girl was seeking out a husband – or rather, being made to, as it now seemed.

“Oh, do call her that,” Rhaenyra replies drolly, already seated once more. “One more patronising pet name and she’s sure to ride off on that great beast of hers, never to return.”

Laenor is laughing once again, sitting in the seat at the head of the table and grimacing as Rhaenyra shoves his feet off the table. Daemon is intrigued by the mention of a beast. Last he knew, the girl had not yet claimed a dragon. He pursues this line of conversation.

“Yes, an awful-tempered wild thing she’s named ‘Afizar’ or some such, do get her to pronounce it for you because I cannot,” Rhaenyra elaborates musingly. At his expression, she continues. “I’m sure you would have seen it coming in on Caraxes, he’s usually menacing the skies at that time of day.”

The goliath from earlier. “That’s her dragon?” he asks incredulously. “The bastard nearly tore Caraxes from the sky!”

He cannot imagine his shy, retiring niece claiming such a savage creature as her own mount. Perhaps he’s underestimated her.

“Sounds like him,” Laenor snorts. “Can’t believe she got that fucker to follow her here from Dragonstone. One of the wild ones,” he expounds for Daemon’s benefit. “The fucking Cannibal, if you’d believe. Nearly killed the King with fright when she landed it on Rhaenys’ Hill. Thought he was going to lock her up for the next five years.”

“He nearly did,” Rhaenyra adds mirthfully. “Only, after the beast ate several Dragonkeepers, the only one who could get him to calm down was her.”

The Cannibal? So few had gotten close enough to see the beast in any detail, so it’s no wonder he’d not recognised the dragon earlier. He wonders idly if he can get his little niece to introduce him. To be so close to such a force of nature…

“Well,” Laenor says, getting up again, pressing an absent-minded kiss to the top of Rhaenyra’s head. “I’d best be off – Luke has some training to do before it gets dark.”

He heads to the door, straightening up his doublet, which has rumpled from the slouch he had been sitting in.

“Make sure that those boys don’t beat him around like they did the last time,” Rhaenyra calls to him as he shuts the door, making an affirmative noise as it closes. His niece sighs at the firestorm Laenor has taken with him as he departed, leaning her head onto the back of the chair and closing her eyes.

He sees now what she has made here, the laughter that has brought lines to the corners of her eyes and the love that pervades the interactions she has with those she cares for. His heart clenches in mourning for the life he missed, the life he will never have with her. They were once reflections of each other. Now, they are strangers, memories to take forth into a new existence. He wants to be bitter, angry, resentful – but he just feels drained. Carved out. Empty. All those years wasted…

“I’d best be going,” he murmurs softly, feet already carrying him to the door.

She murmurs something at him, too low for his hearing to pick up. He turns to face her. She’s smiling at him, though it’s a sad, wistful thing.

“I’ll see you around, Uncle,” she says gently. His mouth twists up dryly, resignedly, accepting the closure as it is given. She’s beautiful in her wisdom, in her maturity, but she is not his – not anymore.

“I’ll see you around, niece.” He closes the door on her. On the past. It is an ending. He can only hope that a new beginning lay somewhere around a nearby corner, waiting to give him a reason once more.

Read the story on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/105698322

Taglist (😭 thank you!):

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x oc #terms of endearment │ daemon targaryen x reader

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waitmyturtles · 7 months

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Absolute Zero, episode 1 RANDOM THOUGHTS (more like FEELS and SQUEALS and HAPPY PIPS, here we go):

1) New Siwaj's latest prestige BL. Man, we've had some dips from him lately. I FAST-fast-forwarded through Between Us to get to the DeanPharm bits, and listen, I shoulda just listened to my friends (insert the Bugs Bunny "NO" gif here). And I have a pathetic love for Double Savage, a show that New Siwaj screenwrote and that aired earlier this year, for its POTENTIAL to tell an intergenerational familial trauma story headed by OhmPerth, but lord, it was a mess. At the same time, I have been impaled with a thirsty obsession over my watch and rewatch of New's Until We Meet Again, so with New going high for this latest show -- I have BIG expectations.

2) @bengiyo and @twig-tea (here and here) covered a TON of what I am thinking (and apologies to friends if you wrote AZ things yesterday and I missed them -- like @bengiyo, I would love to be tagged in your meta to track thoughts on this show!) (I think @troubled-mind is getting into this one, maybe we already have a little AZ squad going!). Further apologies and big ups to Ben and Twig if I repeat anything you say! Which I will, right now, repeating Ben's words:

3) FUCK if I didn't feel some nostalgia hearing Boy Sompob's voice again. I really do feel like this means that New is THROWING. DOWN. The music in this show is already fantastic. The music was SO IMPORTANT to the storytelling in UWMA, and I'm glad we're leading with it again here.

4) I am VERY PLEASED to see Mix Wanut (young Suansoon) holding down as a lead. We didn't see him too much as Don in UWMA, but: I thought his timing and comedy was particularly notable in UWMA (when Don was able to lighten up a bit near Dean, I thought it was really great).

5) Speaking of the actors. I'd like everyone to know (poor @neuroticbookworm and @lurkingshan have already heard me yelp on this). Teng Kanist, who plays the older Suansoon. He was fabulous as Nat in Gay OK Bangkok. Nat was a contradictory character, but let me be honest -- I felt a little symp for Nat because I like Teng's face. I admit it, I'm weak and transparent for dudes.

BUT: we all need to know that Teng Kanist IS ALSO A REAL-LIFE PASTRY CHEF who also GOES TO THE GYM. Therefore, we have a perfect man (for me lol) in our midst. Just need everyone to know! Croissants and abs and sets. SOLD!

6) Ahem, where was I. As an #old, seeing middle-aged dudes in a drama is what I need. I like that Absolute Zero is going to do this for us: to juxtapose the expected BL school scenes with two real adults in real adult settings. I love this. And I love that I know we are going to get more elders next week in What Did You Eat Yesterday?, and elder-ishes very soon in Cherry Magic Thailand and Cooking Crush. We need to age-diversify this field, and New is leading this season.

7) I love how fast we needed to get to young Suansoon and young Ongsa getting together. From the MDL description of the show, it looks like Absolute Zero may have a similar structure to UWMA. UWMA was like a three-part series: the first part being Dean and Pharm getting together; the second being their discovering their spiritual pasts through their shared inherited memories and meeting their families; and the third being the conclusion with their resolving Korn and Intouch's forced separation at death.

If Absolute Zero follows a similar structure in a shorter episode span (right now, MDL shows AZ having 12 episodes, as compared to UWMA's 17 episodes), then I understand AZ needing to be a bit chop-chop about the romance. But I felt that this episode was still perfectly paced, and yes -- dropping the faen in the first episode could seem a touch fast, but I felt that we had convincingly spent intentional time with Suansoon's loneliness to understand why he would have said yes to Ongsa. (And, anyway -- of course, we needed to know that they got together, because we time-jumped to their loving adult relationship.)

And I loved young Ongsa's approach. A guy looking and chasing after his crush. The romance of buying tickets to a movie, hoping the guy he likes will show up. Giving Suansoon a birthday bracelet at the movie. Holding Suansoon's hand and asking him the big question.

Man.... ahhhh. What I loved about that bracelet scene is that -- the gift of that bracelet did a lot of the communicating from Ongsa to Suansoon without words. Suansoon was clearly touched and moved. The loss of his parents shakes him, but he clearly got a lovely moment of connection from that gift. Mix acted that part beautifully.

8) The Love of Siam. What can I fucking say. I haven't seen My Only 12%, where I know New makes another significant reference to LoS there. But, just. I'm very glad @bengiyo insisted on LoS being the start of the Old GMMTV Challenge, in part because of the references to LoS in other Thai BLs over the course of the genre's short history, but also -- the tragedy of that movie communicates SO MUCH when it is present as a reference in another piece. Just like the bracelet communicates so much by way of love. I love that we got to see the pre-ending credits quote. I love that New's communicating to us through this brilliant movie.

I am sure I can find more to gush on, but let me stop here, because this got longer than I expected. I can't manage a full load of dramas, so I'll likely be dropping my thirst-watch of Dangerous Romance to accommodate AZ and WDYEY. Just like I am praying for Tee Bundit to not drop the ball on I Feel You Linger in the Air -- let us hope New can also keep the juggle up on AZ. He started this out STRONG. I HAVE HIGH HOPES.

#absolute zero #absolute zero the series #new siwaj #tor supakorn #mix wanut #teng kanist #toey puwanat #suansoon x ongsa #ongsa x suansoon #that'll probably get shortened to soon right #we will see #absolute zero meta

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poochiray · 1 year

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10 OffGun-ish fics you should read

So I’m coming up on my anniversary soon. This month it’s been a year since my first OffGun story I’ve published. Within this year, I’ve read and wrote a ton of OffGun. So I thought I’d celebrate the occasion by recognizing some of my favorites from the fandom. These are not really in any particular order, so please keep that in mind. I’m not ranking one over the other. And each story has its own special things I like about them. Some of my favorite tropes I tend to gravitate towards are slow burn, pining, angst, smut, humor, switching (be it sexual position or partner), happy endings, & getting together stories. Almost all of these stories have a couple of these things in them. So without further ado, the list~

1) Picking Flowers by allourheroes | 13.3k, Explicit, Pick/Rome

Ya’ll, it was so hard to pick a story by this author. I like a lot of their stories and honestly anything you read by them is going to slam. But there are two stories I think back on even months later. This is one of them. The synopsis of this story is that Pick (as a veterinarian) sometimes has to take care of supernatural creatures. And as such, he comes across a half-pixie named Rome. It’s just such a unique take on Pick/Rome and even though it’s a fantasy AU, their personalities still shine through. It’s cute, romantic, a little angsty, and honestly I remember it being a little slow burn too. Just a very very cute story and definitely worth the read.

2) our hands speak for us by Rioana | 12.1k, Explicit, Off/Gun

K this author has three works, and honestly you should read all of them. I’m not even kidding here. Rioana just gets Gun. Her first story is basically an extensive character study on Gun and as you read through it, you just accept it as reality. Her stories just make sense as plausible explanations, and the same can be said for our hands speak for us. The premise of this story is set during Puppy Honey era, and Gun casually decides to give Off a blowjob to get him to be more comfortable to work with. Then things go from there. I won’t spoil it too much, but be forewarned, Off is not painted in the best light here. This is during his earlier filming career with Gun. As such, there is real situations referenced and the whole thing feels like we’re just going back in time. It’s very real. But very good.

3) A Savage Gang by piningbisexuals | 53.4k, Explicit, Khai/Third

Maybe an unpopular opinion, but this is my favorite Theory of Love story. It’s definitely a darker, more gritty tale. This was inspired by the Not Me trailer and what resulted was an amazing story where the Savage Gang are actually...well, a gang. There’s drugs, there’s sex, there’s the typical Third pining over Khai. It has everything I ever wanted in a story and the slow burn is just ughhh. So well done. This is a story that sticks around and stays in your head for weeks later. If you’re going to read any Theory of Love story, read this one.

4) make a wish by Feyrelynn | 7.7k, Explicit, Off/Gun

This was the very first OffGun story I bookmarked, so it kinda has a special place in my heart. I’d been dabbling in the fandom, going absolutely feral over edits of these two clingy men, and then I stumbled across this story and that was pretty much it for me. This is a birthday fic, with a very simple concept. Off places a wish on his birthday to see what life would be like if he was really with Gun. And then he gets his glimpse into that reality. Short, simple, and adorably sexy.

5) Provocation by hedgielettuce | 5k, Explicit, Third/Khai

Ok, if you are at all familiar with the things I write/read, this one won’t come as any shock to people on why it’s listed here. This is by far the sexiest Theory of Love story I’ve ever read. And why? Because this author embraces BOSSY THIRD. One of the reasons I love Third so much is because he calls the shots. He instills fear into his hot shot playboy boyfriend. He’s not playing. And this story expands on it, going so far as to show a jealous dom side to Third that makes perfect sense and leaves Khai in shambles.

6) love and eggs are best when they are fresh by pancakelady | 10.7k, Teen, Sean/White

Making this list made me realize I’m sorely lacking on Sean/White stories to recommend lmao. I think the reason being is that I just love their canon story so much. So, I don’t feel the need to read more about them? Does that make any sense? I dunno. But either way, this story stuck out more than any other for this particular pairing. It’s the classic high school AU where they are partnered to take care of a “child” for a school project. The “child” being an egg. This is just a very fucking cute story and pretty wholesome too. I think it’s the only story not rated E that I’ll be reccing, so there ya go haha.

7) The Initiation Series by pallidvixen | 30k+, Explicit, Pick Your Not Me Pairing, it’s all there

Now for the complete opposite of wholesome because I’m fucked up like that lmao. Wow. What’s there to say about this one? Well, for one, it’s a series. You have to read each story because it gradually builds up and gets crazier as it goes. But the basic premise is that Gumpa has an initiation ceremony that all the members of the gang must undergo to prove their loyalty and devotion to the cause. The ceremony? Group sex. It’s everyone fucking everyone. Gumpa with big dom energy, Black just pissed off and not wanting to be there, Gram being an eager fluffer for Black, Sean the virgin, Yok the slut...it’s just. It’s so fucking amazing. And shocking. And I could write so much more but I’ll stop. I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but ya’ll. This is the story I think about more than any other, it’s so fucking messed up and perfect.

8) Meant to Be by lililyyli | 76k, Explicit, Maetee/T-Rex

Ya’ll. I have a specific need, and it’s more of this pairing. I started this story because on the word count alone, ngl. Finding longer OffGun stories in general is such a rare treat. But to have one for this pairing too? Sign me the fuck up. The plot on this one was super cute too. Maetee has magical powers and is an exorcist, meanwhile T-Rex is a demon. Together they run into each other as kids and grow up as friends. Things happen, they part ways. They come back as adults and slowly fall in love with each other. I just remember binge reading this entire story in a day, it was so interesting and cute and lovely. And I still think about Maetee getting to dress up as a princess.

9) How Old My Heart by Xagan | 44.3k, Mature, Khai/Third

Ok one of my favorite tropes to read is pining. The thing is with this story is that all the pining is off screen. It's in the background. And it's fucking brilliant. As the reader, you get to piece it all together. You get to watch Khai wait and wait, always playing off as this fuckboy friend. You get to watch Third fall in and out of love with someone else. You then finally get to watch them both come together and create something beautiful, only for one to think it's all casual, the other not. It's a slow burn story, but well worth the read, and the ending was just perfect.

10) there’s a word for it by smyx | 8.7k, Explicit, Yok/Everyone

Lol so this story isn't even technically OffGun focused. This author has written some spicy stories that do feature more OG pairings, but, y'all. This story has a special place in my heart and there's a reason I'm reccing it over the others. It has charm. It is hilarious. Yok is basically a flirty slut who works his way around the gang. Yet in the end, he ends up attempting a threesome with SeanWhite and lol. It's so bad. I just like how sometimes the sex isn't omg amazingly mind-blowing. There is a realness there that I appreciated reading. And Yok's casual approach was just adorable and had me roaring with laughter throughout.

💚 If you've gotten to the end, thanks for reading my list! I'll probably be creating a new list for next year. Drop your recs in the comments! I'm always looking forward to reading new content of OffGun and their associated ships. 💚

#offgun #fic recs #fic list #real person fanfiction #not me #theory of love #i'm tee me too #puppy honey #puppy honey 2 #off jumpol #gun atthaphan #khai third #sean white #pick rome

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pleiadianwitch · 3 months

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Get to know me - tag game!

Thanks for the tag @sydneyinacoma

1. Were you named after anyone?

Yes! My first name is from grandmother and my middle name from a Spanish singer.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Idk. I do remember to ugly cry for hours watching the last Guardian's of the Galaxy. I'm not over that yet and I won't watch it again.

3. Do you have kids?

No.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

Between 12-14 yo I used to played basketball with my neighbors (I was the only girl lol) and a little bit of soccer at school. Also I used to rollerblade a lot idk if that counts tho.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Yes!

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

The way they act around other people.

7. What is your eye color?

Brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Both.

9. Any talents?

Writing, singing and making art?

10. Where were you born?

Puerto Rico.

11. What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, watching movies/series, singing, making art and trying to roller skate like I used to do it 24 years ago 😁.

12. Pets?

A rescued dog named Lucky. And I'm gonna do the same thing as @sydneyinacoma (sorry?) I'm gonna attach a photo at the bottom lol

13. How tall are you?

I'm really tall… I'm 5'3 😁 .

14. Favorite subject in school?

History, Spanish and Science.

15. Dream job?

I would say an Author and a University Professor.

***BTW you don't have to do this*** I'm just bored lol. Anyway... I'm going to tag : @malasxlenguas @crazy-ravioli @dae-mon @aernebulous @pintsofguinnessmakeyastrong @universally-obcure @theyfoundthebody @gdel82 @eldifusor @savage-flirtation @jayymcraee @fantasythetrashywriter

This is Lucky

#get to know me #tag game

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afarcryfrommymain · 9 months

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Far Cry OC Tournament Round 1A: Namazzi Wambui v Kit Cross

About and voting under the cut!

Namazzi Wambui (@icannotsit)

About: namazzi is soft and kindhearted and stained with the blood of those who mistook that for weakness. she has always been fiercely determined to not let her rough upbringing change who she is - having grown up as an undocumented refugee in the nyalenda slums of kenya - but it did teach her how to survive when the state refused to protect her. that aside, she's just!! a genuinely lovely person!!! she became a criminal defense lawyer because she views humanity as absolutely innately good, worth defending; the seed family are the first clients she's ever been very reluctant to represent in court. (they're also the first clients who have tried to kidnap & indoctrinate her into their murder cult, but whatever 😭) she's deeply sweet and excitable and endearing, holding a lotta enthusiasm for Being Alive, and has a strong connection to the natural world around her. she grew up putting food on the table by foraging and fishing - her fondness/respect of nature has continued into adulthood. finding a good plant patch still gets her jumping-up-and-down levels of excited :') becoming the figurehead of a revolution has made her a stranger in her own body. the first time she killed somebody, she felt like a monster. now it feels like winning. it's too easy to sleep at night. immersing herself in nature is the only time she really feels like herself, but it's still tainted; she'll let herself float down the river for miles, wondering what it would feel like to drown. there are fragments of hope county embedded beneath her skin. namazzi can move on, but she can never forget. she would get on very well with jason brody i think

Does your OC have anything to share?: 5-STEP PLAN TO TOURNAMENT SUCCESS, by Namazzi Wambui

Step 1: befriend opponent over the space of several years

Step 2: invite them on a foraging trip with the intent of feeding them poisonous plants

Step 3: forget all about the tournament, fall in love with opponent, introduce them to friends and family, marry in the spring

Step 4: ?????

Step 5: Victory

Kit Cross (@socially-awkward-skeleton)

About: Kit Cross, former soldier turned Deputy for the Hope County Sheriff's Department. She's cold and ruthless and all too happy to take out Peggies, until of course the Seeds start digging their fingers in and she becomes a feral and savage member of the cult's army better known as "The Lion".

Does your OC have anything to share?: "I've killed more people than I can remember, I won't be losing any sleep over a few more."

#far cry oc tournament #polls #far cry 5 #namazzi wambui #kit cross #fun fact: i almost posted this without the poll part #yep #queued it up without a poll #which defeats the purpose

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yoonsluvie · 1 year

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Keep it all to myself.

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥!𝘫𝘫𝘬 𝘹 𝘧𝘮𝘳.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘶.

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 (𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘰.(⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠) 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘨.

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 '𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥' 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸.

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦!; 𝙃𝙚𝙮𝙖 ! 𝙄'𝙢 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙅𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙠𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙨𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜! 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙘��𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩. 𝘼𝙡𝙨𝙤, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙠! 𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧, 𝙞 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮. 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨! ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡

word count!;1200+

Song Inspo! ;

✯

Audible moaning and bed creaking were heard in your bedroom, Jungkook probably brought another girl to fuck with on your bed. Yes, he's currently fucking another woman on your bed while you were out there working your ass off.

You and Jungkook have been married for 1 year now, it was forced. His father and your father were absolute enemies, they almost killed each other when they met once. But, because of money, they made their kids marry each other. Which was you and Jungkook, you weren't gonna deny that you had a small crush on him, but he didn't show any sign of love with you when you were in the altar.

You married him because of business and money, even though you wanted to back out from marrying him, you didn't have any choice but to stay with him until your last breath. Your mother didn't say anything, in fact, she supported your marriage. You cried while trying on your wedding dress, it wasn't happy tears. It was all anger and hatred. But you were forced to smile while walking down the aisle, you smiled painfully, your eyes starting to become wet but people assumed that you were crying happy fucking tears. You said your vows to him, you looked up to see him tearing up a little bit but you knew he was pretending. He delivered his vows with emotion, you almost believed it for a second because of how sincere he said it.

When the priest announced that it was time to kiss the bride, he grabbed the back of your neck gently as he briefly kissed you. It made you feel butterflies in your stomach but he quickly pulled away and hugged you. You just hugged him back as people cheered for both of you. After the car picked the both of you, you both went to a 5-Star hotel your father arranged for your honeymoon. Of course, it was awkward as hell. You just told him you were gonna take a shower to lessen the awkwardness as he just nodded and took off his clothes while you went inside the bathroom.

Fuck. You were inside the shower with Jungkook pounding your cunt with his cock, which left you gasping and holding for your dear life onto his shoulders. You don't know how all of this started, you were just undressing yourself to get ready for showering when Jungkook suddenly went inside. You gasped when you saw his shirt was unbuttoned, he slowly went closer to you while he licked his lips. When he was finally so close to you, you could smell his scent mixed with a hint of whiskey in his breath hitting your face as he slowly leaned down and kissed you. It wasn't passionate or sweet, it was more of a needy and rough kiss. You were in total shock as he grabbed your waist while kissing you, your hands automatically covered your body with the towel you were holding, he pulled and away with a smug smile as he ripped the towel off you, leaving you with your mouth wide open.

"Why are you hiding from me? You're my wife after all." He said while chuckling, as you just shiver when you hear his voice, you slowly step away from him but he quickly grabs your forearm and leans down to your ear to whisper something. "You will do everything i tell you, i'm your husband." He slowly bit your earlobe as he caressed your ass cheeks causing you to bite your bottom lip to prevent you from doing any sounds under his touch. He kissed your jaw, trailing down to your neck as he harshly sucked on it, letting everyone know you're his. You whimper as you feel him grin on your neck. Slowly moving his hands onto your inner thighs, dangerously close to your pussy. "Jungkook.." You mutter his name, begging him to stop all of this. "Yeah?" He stopped kissing your neck to look you in the eyes, seeing him in such a fucked out state makes you clench around nothing. He just smirks as you feel his thumb pressing onto your clit.

And now here you are, Jungkook fucking you hard against the wall. You grip his shoulder as he lifts up your thighs while he fucked you harder. You are moaning his name like it was chant, you were afraid your neighbors would hear you. But Jungkook dosen't give a single fuck if you shout his name to top of your lungs, in fact, he feels fucking proud. You clench around his cock, feeling yourself close but you warn him to pull out because you weren't on the pill. You didn't take any pills because you didn't expect him to have sex with you even if you were both married and expected to have sex on the first night.

He dosen't even listen to your demands, he just keeps fucking you harshly as he feels you clench around his cock uncontrollably, he knows your close so he continues thrusting his cock in and out of your cunt as he harshly sucks on your nipples. You moan louder than before, and after a few moments you let your orgasm wash over you. You breathe heavily as you feel his cock twitching inside you, you hurry to alarm him to pull out while you are still catching your breath from the intense orgasm he gave you. He pulls away from your tits as he bits his bottom lip, still fucking you but he suddenly slows down and you feel his a drop of his hot cum inside you. But before he could fill you up, he quickly pulled out and cummed on your lower stomach, you both breathe heavily.

He turns on the shower and gently puts you down as you feel your legs tremble, he holds you by the waist and he gently washes your body. After washing the both of you, he grabs the towel on the rack as he wraps it around you and guides you to your bedroom. He gently lays you down on your bed as he dresses up and joins you not even minutes later. You just stayed in your towel until he fell asleep, you take off your towel and you were left naked. You took his shirt that was thrown on the floor as you wear it to cover your body. You didn't have any underwear on so you just slipped under the covers and slept beside him, facing his back.

Back to the present, you put down your bag on the table in the living room as you sigh and sit down the couch. It was nothing new, he sometimes brought girls home but you pretended you didn't know because you didn't want to leave him. You were afraid, afraid that if you tell him you found out he was cheating he will divorce you and leave with someone. So you were here, looking like a asshole for letting your husband fuck other girls on your bedroom.

After a while, the sounds stop and you see him sneaking out the girl in the back door so you can't see him. You acted like you were just watching tv for a few minutes as you feel him hug your neck and kiss your temple. "Hello, honey." He smiled and you just sat there, your heart slowly crumbling into pieces as he kept kissing your cheeks and temple. You just smiled.

You didn't want him to find out you knew everything, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. You thought if all of this was worth it, but it was. So you just kept pretending you didn't know he was playing with you.

✿

#bts fics #jungkook #jungkook x oc #bts smut #Spotify

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