#❛ ― ic thread. / it is hard for a good man to be king.

[thatsrightice]

I’m a huge fan of daemon/spirit animal/animal shifter form AUs and I can be convinced Iceman’s animal is just about anything with enough conviction or headcanons, so I decided to put together a poll for outside input.

I also put together some pictures of the animals with some of my thoughts I would love for you to read below the poll! If you have one not listed, please comment!!! I’d love to read your thoughts.

Snow Leopard

super majestic and regal like just look at him

cold weather king, has snow in the name like fr

def just watches quietly from a distance before making a move (thinking of that bar scene where he’s watching from a corner)

patient, but also looks polite

super intense gaze, judging you so hard rn

Arctic Wolf

cold weather, has arctic in the name

looks like they’ve got lots of wisdom

super smart for sure

never leaves a wingwolf behind

would def snap his teeth at you

Golden Eagle

big bird (6ft+ wingspan)

suuuuuper fast like one of the fasted birds

in a daemon au he would totally rock being in a navy portrait

cold weather cause ice, maybe partial source of callsign (goes for all cold weather animals tbh)

super serious super intense like just look at him and his laser focus

patiently waits before swooping in for a kill

there’s a lot of variation among the species and it’s 6 subspecies, so it could be super dark like the picture below

Leucistic Golden Eagle

Golden Eagle but ✨special✨

ice(man) cause of white feathers

feathers on leucistic birds aren’t as strong, but he’d be sure to prove to you he’s not weak

his dad would totally hate it, think he’s weak, defective, etc.

Leucistic Bald Eagle

birds fly

cold weather

normal bald eagle would be too on the nose, too cheesy maybe imo

ice(man) callsign partially cause of white feathers, mostly because of the way he flies of course

higher ups def love the bald eagle, very patriotic which is good publicity for him, maybe why he got promoted so fast

pretty similar to the golden eagle in terms of skill

feathers on leucistic birds aren’t as strong, but he’d be sure to prove to you he’s not weak

dad would probably definitely hate it, think he’s weak, defective, etc. but also maybe jealous because he had to work to get his place in America whereas his son just gets a bald eagle and is suddenly 100% american

Harpy Eagle

birds fly

big bird (6.5ft+ wingspan)

looks cold af

like looks like he could kill you and could definitely kill you

great flight agility

head feathers kinda wild, could kinda mimick his frosty tips but reversed

Leucistic Harpy Eagle

Harpy Eagle but cool as ice like I’m digging the colors

i really dig the colors on this boy

Snowy Owl

birds fly

cold weather, had snow in the name

observes quietly from the rafters

patient for sure

silent flight is a plus, swoop in when they’re not expecting it

Eurasian Lynx

native to Russia

cold weather

lynx are pretty standoffish so it’s kind of a vibe

thought I’d shake things up by throwing it in the mix

Amur Leopard

native to Russia

cold weather

observe from a distance (kind of a common thread but that bar scene like come on it fits)

idk it’s very cool and needs more awareness cause it’s going extinct

[achaoticeternal]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 2x3 THOUGHTS

I did throughly enjoy this episode though!

***Spoilers Below!***

the change to blood over threads??? maybe i didn’t fully watch the title sequence earlier???

please be BENJICOT!!!

slayyyyyy house blackwood! NOT LITERALLY NO! the shot of all the bodies…

thank you rhaenyra for burying the twins together

BABY JACE IS PISSED

criston cole - i will literally always be your biggest hater

did aegon appoint his FUCKING FRIENDS TO THE KING’s GUARD??? this man refuses to think anything through!!!

aemond at the council, where he belongs…

Daeron mention #2

CRISTON IS USING AEMOND’S PLAN (that coin twirl though…)

LORD JASPER WYDLE - love you and your sassy cuntiness

MY SWEET RHAENA you do not deserve this

Harrenhal just looks like it smells musty

ALYS YOU BEAUTIFUL LADY

HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF…

ser crispy’s hair cut…. it ain’t it sis…

What up GWANYE; you cunty bitch. I do like him though.

CALL THEM OUT RHAENYRA!!! Tell these men who is QUEEN!

Why can’t anyone support my girl Rhaena? Like DAMN

Why is Rhaenys the only sensible one???

THEY TEARING THESE FAMILIES APART AND MY HEART

Larys… just like… slither away

It is sad how much Aegon gets fucking played

i genuinely enjoy seeing all these city life scenes. I want to see more of the smallfolk always.

DYANA!!! BABE ARE YOU OKAY???

I GASPED!!! (aemond looks so good though)

THE GASP THAT I GUSPED PART 2 (and then blushed way too hard)

i support Aemond and all his future crimes (still team black though)

Lord, please take all of Rhaenyra’s pain and give it to Ser Criston cole

YES BAELA!!! SHOW THEM YOUR FIRE POWER!!! DRACARYS!!!

The sound design of the episode was exceptional

ALYS…

MILLY SURPRISE!!!! Daemon’s regret…

SHE SEES MUCH AND MORE!!!

She (Rhaenyra) still serves face even dressed as a septa

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE!!! ALICENT KNOWS!!! BUT WAR WILL COME!!!

[natlacentral]

'Avatar: The Last Airbender’ Showrunner Teases Hints to Katara's Future Romance

It’s not easy tackling adapting something that is beloved by fans. Whether you’re a director stepping into a beloved franchise to reboot the series or a showrunner turning an animated show into a live-action show (after an already abysmal live-action movie), someone is going to end up disappointed. This is the challenge that showrunner Albert Kim was faced with when tasked to bring Avatar: The Last Airbender to life. Set in a world where some people are born with the power to manipulate natural elements like water, earth, fire, and air — called "benders" — the series follows Aang, the titular last airbender, who wakes up after being frozen in ice for 100 years to a world engulfed in war and turmoil. As the Avatar, a unique individual who can bend all four elements, it is his task to bring peace to the world.

We spoke with Kim about the challenges of adapting the series and what he considered to be essential to keep in the series versus what could be changed and expanded on. He discussed larger changes to characters like King Bumi (Utkarsh Ambudkar) and how he combined storylines for the shorter season. Kim also discussed what it was like casting Gordon Cormieras Aang and touched on bringing Azula (Elizabeth Yu) in earlier while giving Ozai (Daniel Dae Kim) some more personality. Finally, he touched on the romance between Katara and Aang(as seen in the animated series) and whether that would stay the same in the show.

Staying Loyal to the Spirit of the Animated 'Avatar: The Last Airbender' 

COLLIDER: When it comes to adapting Avatar: The Last Airbender, there were elements that I could totally see from the original animated series. What did you think needed to be in there? And then what did you feel like you could update when it comes to this live action series?

ALBERT KIM: There wasn't really any set litmus test, like, 'Alright, this is the element that will carry on and this won’t." It was more about trying to understand what the spirit of the original was. And that's kind of what I told everyone, whether it was the writers or the directors, or the crew, you know, what we want to do is be faithful to the spirit of the original, rather than being a note-for-note translation of it, because that was never going to be possible. So, when you took it that way, and then there was sort of the formal challenge of adapting what was 20 half-hour episodes of animated television to an 8-hour serialized drama for Netflix, certain pieces started to fall into place when we did that.

One of the first things I did was lay out all 20 episodes on the whiteboard as to what the plots were, and then just took a look at it as if it was one, long narrative thread rather than individual episodes. And when you do that, certain elements start to pair off thematically, whether it's like Jet and the Mechanist, being both characters who are good at heart, but driven to extreme behavior by war. And the interesting theme that emerged was that they would be adversaries, even though they're both good characters. So that's a conflict that we decided to play.

When you start looking at the entire season, that way, certain threads start to appear. And so, like I said, there wasn't any kind of like, "We have to include this, we have to include that." Although, I will say there are certain things that I personally said, "I'm going to include that." Like, I was always going to have cabbage man in there, you know, there was no way we're losing the cabbage man. So like I said, yeah, we'll work him in.

But that was kind of the process. And then along that way, there are certain things — I think the hardest decisions we have to make is what to leave out. I'm sure we did not get to someone's favorite episode, or character, or scene, or even sequence. And I feel their pain, because I wish we could have gotten to a lot of those. But it was just some of those hard choices you had to make. Because in addition to, as you saw, adapting some of the elements from the original, we added new material, we're going off in new directions narratively, and we needed to give those room to breathe as well.

Was There Ever a Plan To Stretch Out the Season's Plot?

Just picking up off of that, obviously, a lot of showrunners would like longer seasons. But did you ever considering splitting the first book in half and spending a little bit more time, given the shorter seasons that we have in the live-action?

KIM: I don't recall ever having that conversation with Netflix. For one thing, I joined the process when the show had been in development for a little bit of time with the original creators. And so I think that was the parameters that were laid out even when I joined. But even after that, I don't think we ever discussed going longer. I mean, Netflix has their own criteria for the length of the season and the length of episodes and things like that. So, those weren't always my call.

But yeah, I don't think we talked about taking the first season of the animated series and stretching it out any longer. It was my call as to how we told that story. Like I always knew, I wanted, like the original, our heroes to start in the Southern Water Tribe and end in the Northern Water Tribe, which meant pretty much replicating the original series. So that was the process by which that came about.

Gordon Cormier Was the Perfect Aang in 'Avatar: The Last Airbender'

I just want to talk about the casting process a little bit and, specifically, working with these young actors. I really loved Gordon [Cormier] in this series. I feel like it can be really difficult casting Aang because so much rests on his shoulders, and it has to be a young actor. Can you talk about working with him and what you saw in him that would be perfect for this role?

KIM: With Gordon, what you see is what you get. I mean, he is Aang. It seems a little cliché to say that, but he really is like when the camera’s shut off, he acts the same way. You yell cut, and he jumps off, and he runs around, and he hops, and he used to sit on my chair all the time. II would go back to my chair, and he'd be sitting there like, "You don’t mind, right?" And then, he would hop off. If he's telling a story, he's acting it out. I mean, he was Aang.

In the process of auditioning, it was one of those things, where, because we were casting a very young actor, and because we were looking at specific ethnic communities, and also because of the auditioning process was conducted in top secret, so they couldn't know what show they were auditioning for. I had to write fake scenes for all of them. I wasn't really listening to specific lines during the audition, it was more about looking into those personalities and seeing who was it that captured the essence of Aang, and every time we just kept coming back to Gordon.

He didn't know he was auditioning for Aang, so, he wasn't playing to that character at all. He didn't know it was Avatar. So, like I said, it was more about looking past the specifics of the scenes that he was playing and more about the essence of who he was. I gotta say, I think that's where we ended up with all of our characters. I think Ian [Ousley] has that natural sardonic sense of humor in person that his character does. And same with all of them. So like, that's how the casting process went about.

Kim Explains Major Changes to Characters Like King Bumi

And speaking a little bit about the series and things that did change, I noticed when I was watching through the series, that there are some characters who have different personalities compared to their animated counterparts. King Bumi really stands out to me as becoming more antagonistic. Can you talk about some of these decisions to change the direction of some of the characters? And can you tell me how that fits into your narrative?

KIM: Well, in the original series, King Bumi, is a really fun, eccentric character, and he puts Aang through a series of tests ostensibly to teach him the lesson that the Avatar has to be prepared for anything. And they're fun. Everyone enjoys that episode, and that's the reason why we wanted to do it. But for me, when I sat down to look at who Bumi was as a character, what was interesting to me was that this was a man who's lived for over a century, and endured a century of war, and has grown disillusioned, and what's really pained him throughout this is the idea that he was abandoned by his friend. He's still hurt at the fact that Aang the Avatar wasn't there for him.

On the flip side, Aang feels the burden of not having been there for his friend, like he wasn't there and what happened to Bumi is a microcosm of what happened to the world in general. That's his responsibility as Avatar. So, those emotional stories were the most interesting thing to me about that episode. So, in order to draw those things, it resulted in the story retelling and the changes we made. So, for instance, in the original series, Aang doesn’t find out that he’s Bumi until the very end of the episode. To us, it was more interesting if they knew who each other was at the start, so you could play that hurt. How you betrayed me and how a character like Bumi would go about getting that — he is not going to just come outright and say that, he's going to prove it to him. Here's what happened to me. Here's what you missed. Here's the pain that has happened while you were asleep, or frozen.

It’s when we approach the stories from that character perspective that some of those changes start to click in. So yeah, and at the same time, we had those elements from the original we wanted to work in. And so, even though we don't show Flopsy, we put big statues of Flopsy in his throne room, right, and like paintings on the walls. So it's a little bit of an Easter egg, I guess. But it's also an homage to the original episode. So all of those changes were done in the interests of making the characters' journeys be a little more grounded, I guess.

Bringing Azula and Ozai in Early Establishes Important Storylines

Yeah, definitely. I liked your decision to bring Azula in earlier. I think that's a great move, because now the audience can understand who she is. She doesn't just appear in the second season and become this fully formed character. But I also noticed that Fire Lord Ozai… It feels like he's playing a larger part in this story as well. Will we see his story have any changes? Because, I don't know, maybe it’s Daniel’s [Dae Kim] performance, but there’s a little bit of sympathy that I have for him and I don't know if I'm supposed to have sympathy for him.

KIM: I think that's great. I mean, I think that’s the idea of dimensionalizing all these characters is always great. Whether or not he's the villain, you know, you want to be able to feel that he's relatable in a way in that you understand how he got there. And to me, again, we had the benefit of hindsight of knowing what the characters will become and where Ozai goes. And like how important the family dynamic is, or the Fire Nation storyline.

And like Zuko’s entire character arc is tied up in the dynamics of his family. So being able to see the roots of that, by bringing in Azula earlier and showing what Ozai is doing in terms of being a manipulative parent, which — just speaking for myself, is very familiar to an Asian person — the parental expectations that come with that felt like a really good way to establish the storylines not just for this season, but possibly from going forward.

Kim Expresses Relief For Not Having To Exploring Katara's Romance

I have to ask this question, because I have wondered this myself, and also because I saw some of your interviews. But talking about the direction of Katara, who I think a lot of fans have interpreted in the original series as a little bit motherly — it’s probably too motherly of a role for the character. And I'm glad that I'm getting the sense that she's not leaning so much in that direction for the live-action show. But speaking on that, her romance with Aang is something that is reflective of that mothering dynamic. Are there any plans to change that up? I know some fans enjoy Katara and Zuko, I'm just going to put that out there...

KIM: [Laughs]

…but I'm curious if you have any insight on that.

KIM: I will say, hopefully, I'm smart enough not to get involved in that debate, because I know how passionate both sets of fans are. And I was fortunate in that it wasn't a big issue in the first season for us. Because, you know, practically speaking, there are certain things you can do with animated characters that you can't with live action ones when it comes to something like that.

It's not something that we hit very much head on in the first season there. If you look carefully, there are little hints, especially in the final episode of what Katara is saying about Aang. So, we are obviously aware of where it goes in the original series, but it's more of a future issue and a future storyline to be dealt with. So I was, even for myself, I was very relieved to put a pin in it, so I wouldn't have to deal with it in the first season. But yeah, it'll be interesting to tackle that one.

Adjusting Characters for Live-Action Does Not Take Anything Away From the Story 

Yeah, I understand. And I saw some of the fan backlash that came out from your comments about Sokka. And I'm just wondering if this fan backlash scared you a little bit, when it comes to interacting with the fans?

KIM: I understand the reaction. I think it's because people, in that particular instance, are acting in a vacuum. Like, they haven't seen the episodes yet, and they're so hungry for information. So they look through the trailers, the footage, and our comments in our interviews, and they can seize upon all these things to get an idea of what might be happening. But what I've been telling people is watch the episodes, and then we can have that discussion. Because, for now, it's all kind of vapor, you know? It's not like something that's concrete that we can talk about, because I think they'll come to see — whatever the comment was — that it was either blown out of proportion or slightly out of context.

And like you, having seen the series, I think you understand what I'm saying. We didn’t sap Sokka’s character arc in any way or make them less flawed. If anything, things were played maybe slightly more subtly in a more grounded way than it would be in an animated series. So, that's about it. And I saw all sorts of crazy things like, so Pakku is not going to be sexist? Again, having seen it now, I think, you know, we play exactly that same conflict.

But there are things that we drew upon from the original series. Even in the original series, the Southern Water Tribe is slightly more progressive than the Northern Water Tribe is, right? Because the Northern Water Tribe is a little more conservative and enclosed, that's reflected in our series as well. And I think you can see, even from the first two episodes, Sokka’s attitudes, maybe not so overtly stated, are rooted in old viewpoints and culturally passed down conceptions of all that stuff. So, that's all there. Again, let's watch the episodes and then we can have that discussion.

[cha-melodius]

Firstprince + Versailles for your fandom fest!

Congrats on your milestones!

(Versailles was such an interesting choice! A different palace? I got it in my head to write a historical AU, so you get 1785 Versailles and rival ambassadors to the court of France. I hope you enjoy!)

chamel’s fandom fest info | read all the fics

Lessons in Foreign Diplomacy

(firstprince, 5.3k, E; read it below or on AO3)

It had only made sense when Congress had sent him to Paris in 1784 to negotiate a large number of treaties with various European states. Alex is damned good at negotiating, and getting a good outcome for these agreements was vital to the continued success of their new republic. What he was not as pleased about is the missive from Washington a few months later assigning him to succeed Franklin as Minister to the Court of Versailles. Don’t get him wrong, living in Paris is— well, it’s pretty great, actually, but he’d still rather be back in Philadelphia, helping govern the country he worked so hard to liberate. Alex knows he’s helping shape U.S. foreign policy, and that’s important too. Much of the work he does is extremely rewarding.

What he despises are the times when the King and Queen decree that he come to the palace at Versailles for some inane weekend of fancy balls and dinner parties and lawn games. He daren’t refuse, though; Louis’ support in the war was instrumental, so Alex has to go pretend to be delighted no matter how distasteful the trappings of the monarchy are to him. The gatherings never fail to make him feel utterly out of place, full of the kind of European nobility and extravagantly wealthy people who look at him as some kind of shabby, poor, charity case from across the sea.

Then there’s the British Ambassador, Henry Fox-Mountchristen. He’s new in the position, just like Alex is, and a Duke of somewhere or other—Alex tries not to pay attention, honestly. All he knows is that any representative of the British government is automatically his enemy. The fact that he’s a noble on top of it is just icing on the cake. Alex had met him first at one of these fancy parties; he’d made no attempt at hiding his disdain, Henry had looked down his nose at him, and they’ve loathed each other ever since.

Annoyingly, he’s very good at his job. In the year that Alex has been working out trade deals and new commerce treaties, Henry has been there representing British interests in the negotiations, and is usually the only one in the room who can go toe-to-toe with Alex. He is constantly getting in the way forcing Alex to settle for less than he’d hoped for (except for that one time when he actually helped Alex negotiate a better deal with Portugal by tying their terms to Great Britain’s, which— Alex still doesn’t know what that was about).

Even more annoyingly, he’s hotter than the fucking sun.

It’s kind of ironic that, in a lavish, opulent court full of lithe young women in low-cut gowns, the one person Alex can’t tear his eyes away from is the Brit wearing frocks that are about as boring as you could get away with at Versailles. It’s those fucking cheekbones, and those piercing blue eyes, and those full lips that Alex kind of wants to bite. Alex’s frustrating desire—as shocking as it had been to recognize—absolutely does nothing to soften his feelings toward the other man; if anything, it just stokes his anger. Why the fuck did it have to be him?

Tonight, Alex is at one such fancy party, drinking too much champagne, dancing with beautiful women, and glaring at Henry from across the room. He is, as always, wearing a stupid powdered wig that makes him look absurdly pale (Alex refuses to wear one, of course, and his appearance never fails to cause a stir even when he’s wearing ridiculously ornate silk coats and waistcoats, though he suspects it’s just as likely because of how brown he is). Henry’s dark blue coat, finely embroidered with silver thread, is downright subdued in comparison to the flash surrounding him, but every time he moves the embroidery catches the light and he shines.

It is so irritating.

Alex watches as he stands off in a corner, drinking champagne and blatantly ignoring the obvious flirting of many hopeful ladies looking for a dance. It’s absurd, really—not that he draws that much attention, because just look at him, but that after nearly a year of this he still hasn’t managed to get the stick out of his ass. Alex despises everything these parties represent, and he still manages to attend them without acting like he’d prefer to be put in the stocks.

Drinking plenty of the free-flowing wine and cognac usually helps with that.

He’s not even really aware of his feet carrying him over to Henry until he’s standing next to the other man. Alex doesn’t even look at him, instead staring out at the ballroom floor where the guests are dancing increasingly haphazard waltzes as the night stretches on, though he sees Henry tense out of the corner of his eye.

“So is there something wrong with your feet, or do you think you’re just better than everyone?” Alex asks eventually.

Alex hasn’t turned his attention away from the room, but Henry’s face snaps toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

“They say you’re the most eligible bachelor here, and you haven’t danced with anyone tonight.”

“Watching me that closely, are you?” Henry returns dryly. Alex has to bite down on a protest that he wasn’t because, well. Trying to deny it would just make him sound like a petulant child. When he doesn’t respond, Henry continues, “None of them interest me, and I wouldn’t wish to… lead anyone on.”

Alex huffs out a scornful laugh as he finally turns to face him. “So you are that conceited, got it.”

“That is not—”

“You just said that no one in this room interests you,” Alex interrupts before he can finish. “You do understand how that sounds, right?”

Henry stares at him for a long moment, a piercing look in his eye that Alex wants to turn away from. He doesn’t, though.

“I didn’t say that no one here interested me,” Henry says, his voice a low rumble, barely audible above the din of the party, that makes something flare hot and bright low in Alex’s gut.

“I— what?”

“You know, I think I’ve rather had enough festivities for the evening,” Henry announces in his usual clipped cadence. “Good night, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. Do try not to cause another international incident tonight?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Alex spits automatically. That was one time, and it wasn’t an incident anyway. Marie Antoinette thought it was fucking hilarious.

Alex knows for sure that Henry’s had plenty to drink himself when the corner of his mouth twitches and he quips, “Another time, perhaps,” before he strides off, leaving Alex gaping as he tries desperately not to imagine exactly what that would entail.

~~~~~

Despite the sheer amount of alcohol he consumed the previous night and how late he was up, Alex wakes fairly early the next morning. He knows from experience that the rest of the court won’t show their faces until much later today, which means he can enjoy the solitude of the empty gardens as he strolls along finely graveled paths between carefully manicured hedges and sculpted trees. He lets his feet carry him aimlessly, trusting that he’ll be able to find his way back eventually and not really caring that much if he ends up late to some stupid event.

He’s certainly not expecting to encounter anyone else out here.

The quiet crunch of footsteps on gravel alerts him to the other person’s presence somewhere beyond the next turn. He could walk the other way, keep to himself and avoid the intruder on his thoughts, but he doesn’t. Alex keeps moving forward as the other footsteps approach him, until they meet at the juncture of two hedges, a statue of a cherub marking the intersection.

Henry.

He’s wearing a light blue coat with almost no decorative embroidery, which is subdued and boring and also makes his eyes shine with the pale, icy, breathtaking blue of the sky in midwinter. Without a wig, his golden blond hair looks absurdly soft as it flops over his forehead, and Alex catches himself wondering what it would feel like between his fingers before quickly closing the door on that. Jesus fuck, he’s got to stop thinking these things.

Especially since it’s clear Henry doesn’t care for his company either. The corner of his mouth pinches and his posture goes rigid, as it always does when he sees Alex, and for a moment Alex thinks he’s going to just keep walking. He does stop, though, inclining his head minutely in stiff politeness.

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

“Ambassador,” Alex returns, because he refuses to use Your Grace. “I hadn’t expected to meet anyone else out in the gardens this morning.”

“Yes, well,” Henry says in an odd tone. His eyes skitter away across the landscape and he tips his chin slightly. “Only part of this bloody place that’s tolerable, aren’t they?”

Alex blinks several times, sure he didn’t just hear that. Henry’s member of the aristocracy, born to this kind of bullshit; Alex never really considered that Henry might detest the opulence and artifice as much as he does, even though, looking back, it should have been obvious from the way he comports himself.

He’s not entirely sure what to do with this information.

“I’m glad to see you upright after your indulgences last night,” Henry adds, as if to prove he’s still a prick.

Alex opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get anything out, a rumble of thunder cuts him off. The clouds have been thick all morning, but now they’re downright menacing, heavy and dark and foreboding of a storm. The kind of clouds that impress upon you a desire to get under cover with some speed; too bad they’re deep in the middle of the garden and Alex has no clue where the nearest shelter is. Hardly a moment later, a few fat drops of rain splatter down onto his shoulders and head. Henry turns a frown up at the clouds as dark spots appear on his pale coat.

And then the sky fucking opens.

It’s a pounding, torrential rain, the kind that soaks through layers of fine wool and linen within minutes so that you lose all hope of staying even a little dry. Still, one hardly wants to stand out in it. Alex spins aimlessly, wondering which way to run, when he feels a tug on his elbow and Henry is calling, “this way,” over the din.

Apparently, blindly following his bitter enemy is a thing he’s doing now.

They run, even though they’re both already drenched, and before too long they emerge from the woods next to a small octagonal building overlooking a lake—the Belvedere, sometimes used as a lounge when the Queen entertains guests out at Trianon. At the moment it’s empty save for a collection of couches, and they stumble in, dripping liberally all over the marble floors. Alex wastes no time before stripping off his coat and tossing it onto one of the lounges, silk pillows be damned, and he’s got his waistcoat halfway off when he hears a strangled noise from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Henry asks, a scandalized expression on his face. It’s irritating that even now, when he kind of looks like a wet dog with his blond hair plastered against his head, he’s still breathtakingly beautiful.

“Not particularly interested in standing around in soaking wet wool,” Alex huffs. At least if he gets his outer things off, his shirt might dry a bit while they wait out the storm. It’s not like he’s getting fucking naked.

Which is definitely not something he’s thinking about now.

“Apologies if I’m offending your delicate sensibilities, Your Majesty,” Alex sneers as he drapes his waistcoat over the back of the couch.

Henry’s cheeks have gone decidedly pink, and when Alex turns toward him fully, he looks away, crossing his arms over his chest and staring fixedly at the opposite wall. Outside, the rain continues to pour down, surrounding them with a dull hiss as it pounds on the roof and lashes against the windows.

“What is your grievance with me?” Henry asks eventually, sounding nothing so much as tired.

Alex stares at him. “Is that a joke? I’m American. Maybe you heard, we fought this whole war against you—”

“Not against me,” Henry interrupts firmly.

“Fine, your country. It makes no difference.”

“It bloody well does!” Henry snaps. He turns away again, pressing his lips into a thin line as he stares out of one of the windows. “Did you ever think to ask me what my views were on American independence, Mr. Claremont-Diaz?”

“What?”

“Of course not. You just assumed.”

“You’re a representative of the British government. Why wouldn’t I assume?” Alex thinks it’s a fair question. He knows Henry was a member of parliament before he became Ambassador. His family is exceedingly well-connected and highly placed in the government. It feels like a pretty fucking safe assumption.

Apparently not, though.

Henry gives him a withering look. “Oh, and I’m sure there was no dissension in the writing of your little Declaration, then?”

Alex bristles at ‘little Declaration’, but Henry unfortunately has a point. “Fine,” he grits out. “What’s your opinion on American independence, Ambassador?”

“I wasn’t the only one in Parliament who spoke against the prospect of an expensive and bloody war,” Henry says evenly, staring out the window again. “A few even genuinely believe in the principles of self-governance, as it turns out. We’ve had to be… cautious in expressing ourselves, of course. I happen to feel strongly that people should have a say in their own lives,” he adds, and somehow it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about government anymore. He lapses into silence, letting the sound of the rain fill up the space between them. Then the corner of his mouth tugs into a tiny smirk. “Thought we should have cut you lot loose ages ago, actually. Much more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Hey!” Alex exclaims, but it also shocks a laugh out of him. Which is… weird. He stares at Henry, trying to make all of this new information fit into a portrait he now realizes was startlingly incomplete. He thinks, a little distantly, that he kind of needs a whole new painting. “I’m sorry for assuming,” he says eventually. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re always a prick to me.”

“You hate me, Alex,” Henry says flatly, his mouth going tight again, and something inside Alex turns over at the use of his given name. “Am I supposed to merely smile through the insults?”

Alex can’t help but wince. He wraps his arms around his waist, which he blames on the chill and not the way he’s feeling a little too vulnerable at the moment. Spring’s warmth seems to have abandoned them today, and the cold stone of the Belvedere is doing nothing to help, nor is the way his damp shirt is clinging to his skin.

“I don’t hate you,” he admits quietly. He has a lot of conflicting feelings about Henry. Somehow hate has never been one of them. “I wanted to, but I don’t.”

“I’m not certain that’s better,” Henry says, an obvious wariness in his voice. 

Alex doesn’t really know what to say. He hugs his arms a little tighter around himself and shivers.

“For Christ’s sake, this is why you leave the wool on,” Henry huffs unexpectedly, and a moment later he’s crossing the room and grabbing Alex’s discarded coat. He stands right in front of Alex and reaches around him so that he can drape the coat over Alex’s back. “There,” he says as he tugs the fronts close by the lapels, then reaches up to smooth his hands across Alex’s shoulders.

It’s only then that Henry seems to notice their proximity, or the way he’s still holding onto Alex. Their eyes lock together, and a bolt of heat shoots down Alex’s spine that has nothing to do with the coat. A flush of pink blooms across Henry’s cheeks and his lips part slightly as he inhales, and then he starts pulling away, which is the very last thing Alex wants.

“Henry, wait,” he murmurs as one of his hands reaches out to snag the front of Henry’s coat almost of its own accord. Henry freezes. “Don’t… don’t go.”

Alex thinks of all the times he’s caught Henry staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite read. Of the way that Henry had said I didn’t say no one here interested me only last night. He looks searchingly up into his blue eyes now, dark and slaty in the low light, full of both trepidation and something like hunger.

“I can’t…” Henry starts, but his voice trails off. He lets himself be tugged in closer, his eyes dropping to Alex’s mouth. “We can’t,” he whispers.

“Fairly certain those aren’t words that are allowed in the Court of Versailles,” Alex quips softly.

He takes a step backward so that he’s leaning against the back of the couch, hoping that Henry will follow when Alex pulls him along. He doesn’t really want to think about the relief that surges through him when Henry does, nor how it feels when Henry lets Alex pull him so close that their hips are pressed together. One of his thighs slots between Alex’s, and Alex inhales sharply at the contact.

“Alex, please,” Henry murmurs tightly, his face tipped down toward Alex’s. Alex can’t tell if it’s please yes or please don’t.

“Shhh,” Alex hushes. He lets his grip go slack, but Henry doesn’t pull away. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”

Henry closes his eyes and lets out a shuddery exhale, then he sways forward until their foreheads meet. Their noses press together, and Alex breathes in deeply, filling his senses with Henry. Who turns out to smell like wet wool—which is admittedly not great—but also like the cologne he wears and also something that reminds him of the spring air. Alex nudges forward, tipping his head slightly, until finally Henry closes the narrow gap between their lips and presses their mouths together.

Alex had always thought that if he were to end up kissing Henry, it would be rough and rushed. A battle, as much as their verbal sparring matches had always been, each of them trying to gain the upper hand. He never once imagined it could be like this, soft and syrupy slow, a languid give and take. One of Henry’s hands is clutched almost possessively at the nape of Alex’s neck, the other curled carefully around his jaw, and he takes his time mapping out Alex’s mouth as the kiss gets deeper and more heated, like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

It’s a lot to take in, so Alex stops trying; he lets it wash over him, soaking into his bones as thoroughly as the rain had done. His chilled fingers move to Henry’s waistcoat, fumbling with the slippery buttons until he finally gets it open. He slides his hands underneath it, onto the dip of Henry’s waist, his hot skin searing through the thin linen shirt against Alex’s palm. Henry groans at the contact, his hips rocking forward against Alex’s, and the movement makes the depths of their mutual arousal all too clear.

Alex drops a hand to the front of Henry’s breeches and cups him through the wet fabric, which draws another ragged please from Henry’s throat as he presses into Alex’s palm. That one, at least, Alex is sure of. He flips them around so Henry’s pressed up against the back of the couch, then pulls back just enough to reach the buttons holding his fall-front breeches closed. Too many fucking buttons, actually, but he gets them undone, and then he’s tugging out the long tails of Henry’s shirt and dropping to his knees as he finally, finally gets a hand around Henry’s cock.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says without really meaning to, but it’s worth it for the way that it makes Henry shudder and tip his head back as he thrusts into Alex’s grip.

Henry’s knuckles are going white where his hands are tightly gripping the ornate scrollwork carved along the top of the couch, and Alex prises one off to bring it to his head instead. Henry’s fingers twine into his damp curls in a way that makes a hot jolt of arousal lance through Alex, and that’s new information he’s absolutely not going to think about later. Alex licks his lips in anticipation as he works his hand up and down the shaft of Henry’s cock, thumbing over the crown and grinning at Henry’s moan when he rubs at the sensitive spot on the underside.

“Have you ever—” Alex starts, though he can’t quite make himself say it. “With another man?”

Henry lets out a soft puff of laughter before he opens his eyes and looks down at him. “More than a few times.”

There’s something indescribably attractive about Henry’s confidence, in the idea that he’s experienced in something like this, but it does absolutely nothing for Alex’s nerves. He must not manage to keep them off his face, because the smirk on Henry’s lips softens.

“You haven’t,” he says. It’s not really a question. Alex just shakes his head, and Henry’s hand slides down to thumb tenderly along the edge of his jaw. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Alex says firmly. “I want you.” He swallows. Works his hand on Henry’s cock again just to see the way his eyelids flutter. “Want to feel you on my tongue. Want to taste you.”

“Christ, Alex,” Henry groans. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Not just yet,” Alex says, then wraps his lips around Henry’s cock and slowly sinks forward.

It takes him a moment to get used to it, the weight on his tongue, the taste of his skin, the stretch of his jaw muscles as he moves. He carefully catalogs Henry’s reactions, every gasp and moan and shiver as he swirls his tongue or twists his wrist around what he can’t quite take in his mouth. Henry slowly falls apart under his ministrations, and it’s so unbelievably arousing that Alex is aching in his own breeches, unsure if the curses spilling from Henry’s lips in his posh accent or the way he says that’s good, Alex is doing it for him more.

Then Henry’s fingers close more tightly around his curls as his gasps reach a crescendo, which Alex only later realizes might have been intended as a warning; at the time it just makes Alex moan and try to take him deeper, and then Henry is spilling onto his tongue with a breathless, delirious laugh.

Henry’s chest is still heaving when he hooks his fingers into the front of Alex’s shirt and drags him up into a searing kiss. It’s hard and deep, Henry licking into his mouth and biting down on his lower lip, and it’s all Alex can do not to whimper into it. He’s never had a kiss that felt this all-consuming, like he’s been ignited from the inside and he doesn’t even care if it burns through him and leaves nothing but ash.

He barely realizes what’s happening when Henry grabs his hips and pushes back, manhandling him over to some kind of chaise longue that he only becomes aware of when his calves hit the edge of it and he collapses backward onto the seat.

“Hey, so, uh,” he says as Henry climbs over top of him, a predatory glint in his eye that absolutely does not make Alex’s cock throb. “When you said you weren’t not interested in anyone at the party…”

“Was I talking about you?” Henry finishes, giving him a look like it’s a stupid question.

Look, Alex knew it was a stupid question before it finished leaving his mouth. Still.

“Well, I dunno, maybe you have a list or something.”

Henry stops inches from his lips and glares down at him. “No, you rebellious miscreant, it’s only ever been you,” he says, then kisses him so thoroughly that Alex might actually forget how to speak.

Which is probably the point.

~~~~~

They’re seated next to each other at dinner that evening, which is probably Marie Antoinette’s idea of a joke. A day ago, Alex would have been annoyed beyond belief. Now, though, he knows what Henry looks like as he slowly comes apart. Now he knows what Henry’s lush lips look like wrapped around his cock.

What a difference a few hours makes.

Henry is standing stiffly next to his chair when Alex saunters up, his face perfectly composed in rigid formality as he inclines his head. “Good evening, Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

“Your Grace,” Alex returns, pitching his voice to convey just the right balance of insolence and provocation.

Something flashes in Henry’s eyes, probably meant as a warning, but also suggesting that he might enjoy hearing it in a very different context, and also that he’d really like to drag Alex off into the nearest cupboard and do terrible things to him. Alex certainly understands the impulse. It’s been less than six hours since the Belvedere, and Alex still wants him so intensely that it’s nearly a physical ache. His fingers itch to reach out and touch, to tug that stupid wig off his head, to press his thumb to the corner of Henry’s mouth. Fuck.

Instead, he puts on his politician smile and turns to greet the person sitting on his other side, who turns out to be some Spanish princess. She does not seem very impressed with this arrangement—typical for royalty, really—but warms a bit once she realizes she can speak Spanish to him rather than the obligatory French. Alex and Henry spend most of the dinner seemingly ignoring each other and talking to the other guests seated around them. Seemingly, because Alex actually uses the cover of the table to variously press his knee to Henry’s, or hook their ankles together, or slide a hand high up onto Henry’s thigh and squeeze. The latter he does when Henry’s attention is turned away, and it makes Henry choke on his wine and direct a vicious glare at him, which Alex marks down as a victory.

Sometime during the third course, they find themselves both at liberty when the rest of their dinner companions become thoroughly wrapped up in other conversations. Henry is quite clearly trying to ignore him, which Alex just as obviously cannot allow to stand.

“Did you mean it?” Alex asks, his voice low but casual, so as not to draw any attention from those around them.

“What?” Henry asks as he slants a look toward Alex.

“When you said maybe I could fuck you another time.”

Henry’s fork slips out of his grip and clatters to the plate, and several sets of eyes turn toward him. His eyes are wide as he stares at Alex in shock, but there’s also something undeniably heated in his gaze. “You are, without a doubt, the worst person I’ve ever met,” he says flatly, loud enough to be overheard.

Alex can’t quite suppress his grin. It draws a few titters of laughter and whispers from the surrounding guests, most of whom are well aware of Alex and Henry’s mutual enmity. When nothing further comes of it, though, they return to their conversations.

“So is that a no?” Alex asks eventually, still smirking.

Henry glances around, but no one seems to be paying them any attention. “Come to my chambers tonight,” he says crisply, as if they were going to be meeting about policy, “and we shall discuss the matter further.”

~~~~~

They don’t truly revisit the conversation until much later, when Henry is splayed out naked on top of the silk bedding and Alex is two fingers deep inside him. Well, they did cover the obvious question, but:

“The worst person you ever met, huh?” Alex says, pressing the words against the inside of Henry’s thigh.

“Are you really bringing this up now,” Henry huffs, exasperated.

“I dunno,” Alex says. He twists his fingers to reach the spot he’s discovered that makes Henry gasp and tremble. It’s been an enlightening experience so far. “What you really think of me seems relevant.”

“I think,” Henry gets out tightly, “that you’re stubborn—”

Alex bites down on the tender skin at the crease of his hip.

“—opinionated—”

A slow lick up the length of his shaft.

“—arrogant—”

A hot breath, ghosting over the crown.

“—uncouth—”

Alex curls his fingers, and Henry whimpers as his spine arches up off the bed.

“—and if you don’t get inside me right now, I’m going to stonewall all of your treaty negotiations for the next month.”

Alex laughs softly as he withdraws his fingers and climbs up the bed, seeking out the oil to slick himself up. “Oh, well then, how could I refuse?” he returns, grinning at the look of desperation on Henry’s face when he teases the head of his cock at his rim. “You’ve got a real honeyed tongue there, sweetheart. Know how to make a boy feel special.”

Henry gets a hand behind his neck in an iron grip and drags him down into a kiss, digging his heels into the back of Alex’s thighs until Alex is sinking into the tight heat of his body. It’s a lot more intense than he thought it would be, and he makes an embarrassing punched-out sound at the sensation of Henry utterly surrounding him.

And that’s before Henry releases his neck, looks up at him with his face impossibly gorgeous and undone, and murmurs, “I also think you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

It’s too much, like the first kiss in the Belvedere was too much; Alex knows how to handle the verbal sparring, the familiarity of traded insults, even in the middle of sex. He doesn’t know what to do with the strange twisting in his chest at Henry’s words, with the knot that’s lodged in his throat. They’re not— this isn’t—

He lets Henry pull him into another kiss, lets the give and take of their bodies quiet his spiraling thoughts, until there is only Henry’s hands in his hair, and the cut of his teeth against Alex’s lip, and the roll of their hips together in perfect, earth-shattering harmony.

~~~~~

Alex needs to go. He needs to get out of this bed, get dressed, and go to his own chambers. It’s not as though people stumbling out of others’ apartments is an unusual sight in the palace during one of these weekends, but if he were to be seen leaving Henry’s—

Well. The rumors wouldn’t stay quiet for long, of that he’s certain.

Instead he curls a little closer against Henry’s side, presses a kiss to his shoulder. That’s probably too much, too, but Henry just hums softly, a small, blissful smile curving his lips. Somehow, Alex thinks he’s even more beautiful in this moment than he’s ever been before.

“So,” Alex says eventually, “when we get back to Paris…”

They both live there, not even that far away from each other. They could…

He doesn’t know what. Have some kind of sordid, illicit affair? What would that mean for their lives? Their occupations? It’d be messy. Dangerous. A terrifically, catastrophically stupid idea.

A little crease forms between Henry’s brows as he frowns, and for a moment Alex fears that he’s misread everything. Maybe this was never supposed to leave Versailles. Alex doesn’t know what’s even possible for them to have outside these walls, but he also doesn’t know how he’s meant to go back to what they were before now that he’s had this.

“It seems to me,” Henry says carefully, “that there should be ample opportunity for… improving diplomatic relations when we return?”

There’s a beat of silence before Alex can’t choke back the laugh bubbling out of his chest any longer, and the smile that’s been slowly pushing its way onto Henry’s lips finally breaks free. Then they’re both dissolving into giggles, and Alex is grinning like an idiot when Henry pulls him into another lingering kiss.

Yeah. Worst idea he’s ever had.

[sorrinslays]

Lowkey just realized this, but Simon is perfect for literally every vision from Genshin

Like, think about it:

Anemo vision is given to those who, in some way, desire or chase some form of freedom

Starting off strong, Simon fits that description really well for a number of reasons. He wants to feel free from the guilt and pain of losing Betty and the world he lived in so many centuries ago. He wishes to escape from the labyrinth that is his mind (more Ice King but yk). He desires freedom from his past as Ice King and the mistakes and atrocities he did. And lastly, he wishes to find the true freedom that is death (implied)

Geo vision is given to those who work hard to achieve their ambitions

You cannot tell me that does not describe Simon. He worked hard to be where he was in life (pre-Betty), going on expeditions, researching and not stopping even if literally nobody believes or respects him. And even now, he is working hard to be a better person (going to therapy and expanding his social circle)

Electro vision is given to those who see the world differently from others and are genetically considered different or odd

Now let's be honest with ourselves, that's, like, Simon 101. Even before the Mushroom war Simon was considered weird. Nobody was interested in his lectures or saw his research as valuable (except Betty). It's even more true now that he feels isolated and different from everyone around him due to his circumstances. He's supposed to be dead, yet he's still here, surrounded by people so similar yet different from him in a world that feels like as if someone looked at earth through a funky mirror

Dendro vision is given to those who either seek or posses knowledge or skills that are considered either hidden or forbidden or simply value knowledge highly

Again, it describes the poor sad little man perfectly. As a researcher he valued knowledge very highly as he always studied or researched whenever we see his "past" life. Now he also possesses 'forbidden' knowledge, that of the crown and Golb

Hydro vision is given to those who either have a strong dedication towards something, or have a desire to help or protect others

Marceline, Fiona and Cake. Need I say more?

He wishes to protect people he deeply cares for, especially if he sees them as child-figures. He sacrificed his sanity because it was the only way to protect Marceline during the apocalypse and left before things went bad and he was willing to do the same for Fiona and Cake to protect them even if it mean going through the heartache all over again

Pyro vision is given to those who are strongly passionate about something and dedicated their life to it

You could make the case for both his research and love for artifacts and Betty but I think that Betty is the better option for this. At the start of the series, we see that he has dedicated a lot of his time to Betty even she isn't with him anymore. He still wants to see her again, to save her. She was his everything and he loves her more than anything, unable to move on until the finale and even then he still has trouble with it

Cryo vision is given to those who are at a "crossroad" in their life, are torn between responsibilities and desires or hiding something

The irony of the cryo fitting him aside, the vision is literally him in the series. He's torn between wanting to hang on on that thread of sanity that Betty literally sacrificed her life for and helping Fiona and Cake and having a purpose in life once again. He wants to help but by helping he's basically spitting in Betty's face and showing that her final sacrifice means nothing. How can he decide? When he feels like every day is not only meaningless but also taxing and a waste of Betty's gift. He doesn't deserve it but at least he can help someone, fix their world and do something good with his life. After all, no one really needs him, right?

(This is a very random post and it's a habit I developed of thinking "what vision fits the character I'm hyperfixating on the most?" and, honestly, I recommended it to everyone cause it makes you look deeper and understand them better as a character)

(Don't take this too seriously tho, it's just crazy ramblings that plague my mind at night)

[elexuscal]

so like two years ago i introduced @swordaperson to Adventure Time. and because i knew that the earlier eps especially would be a hard sell i skipped over a bunch of early lol random ones.

i tried to make sure i captured all the plot relevant ones. early PB stuff, Marcy stuff, mushroom war foreshadowing, Ice King... I did a pretty good job, i think, for the most part.

the most part.

when the ancient psychic tandem war elephant shows up again

Sword: wait the what now Me: the ancient psychic tandem war elephant Sword: .... Me: you remember Sword: I most certainly do not Me: from the episode with jake stretching in the labyrinth with the hot dog guys Sword: .... No. Me: .... ohhhh wait i must've skipped that one Sword: What? Me: I didn't remember the ancient psychic tandem war elephant came back for a gag!

it wasn't a gag. it was a whole plot thread

man. this show.

[misanthropiczombie]

Word of Honor Live reaction, pt. 2

Okay so in an effort to not have stupid long posts even with every episode under a readmore, we're onto a new thread starting with Episode 17.

Episodes 1-16 ⪻⨀⪼[future third post link]

He's too earnest. i know its silly but i have such a hard time feeling anything for him. too pure not interested

I guess beauty is just like out and out with him for now? no questions asked. does he know she's also a ghost? or does he know and just not give a shit because of ~love~

couldn't keep it in his pants or break it off X years ago for a wife he disliked, but fuck the sects man

too pink and avocado for how much of an assholw both of theseguys are

look at her ears theyre so cute

;lksajfd "I wasn't hot but once you started speaking I did feel annoyed"

lmao BABY

j;hklas;dlkfj ZZS being a hardass as a teacher but also he loves that boy and keeps putting himself in The Situations to save him and smile at him and WKX being like "well this is a character shift be nicer~" the back and forth is so good

"he acts like a wife" i mean, buddy.

wooooaaah ALL THE GHOSTS?

wkx trying to sneak his child out of practice for ice cream but daddy said no

"how did you survive all of these years without someone strangling you?" "i'm good at martial arts" everyone is bratz or over-earnest those are the archetypes

zzs's resting bitch face is great

Ye Baiye is suuuuch a brat

there is ome 4d chess going on here and i am a 2d child

Man the mental hold he's got on scorpion king is something else. that relationship is the furthest from healthy

this is SUCH MARRIED COUPLE SHIT

god i cannot get over this a;lsdkfja;skldfj

THEYRE NOT FAKE IM GOING TO FUCKING DEVIATE MYSELF

lsitensltieslkjntesilsadkjlfha anyways im very normal about this

tell him how fucked up u are DO IT

RALEJHlk:JDS;flkj lsiten listen the man is ride or die you know.

also its not like he's not been a Bad Person just tell him and kiss and make mroe babies

[vyxythepixie]

AO3 Wrapped Q&A

How many words have you written this year?

Apparently 111,206.

How many works did you publish this year?

Thirty-six. I'd write the number but for some reason it posted HUGE.

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Oh, man. I think it's probably 'You Want Ice With That?' because I find Tony really hard to write as I'm not au fait with American accents and his particular patter, and I was happy with how I wrote him in that. Closely followed by 'Goddess Set Free', as I was pleased with myself for doing a properly planned out fic and that's helped me work on doing that with other longer fics.

What work of yours has the most hits?

For 2022, it's 'The Incorrigible Loki Bangs The MCU', which makes sense because I tagged so many fandoms for that and it updated daily for 30 days so it got attention. Across all years, it's 'Deserved'.

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

I feel like any of the collections with 'Sucktember' in the title (two of which got my highest comment threads) I'm surprised by the feedback, mostly because I think I should have titled them better. Otherwise, I guess 'Juvelen Av Trollmenn', since Strangefrost is quite a surprisingly small ship on AO3 and I didn't expect to generate too much interest in me writing them with a baby (especially when there are already amazing fics out there covering that topic lolol).

Favorite title you used

Probably 'You've Got Raven'. 'Exposure' was fun for the double entendre, too.

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

I'd like to do this more but I'm both super picky and can never think of what I want to fit what I'm writing. I have three works with lyric titles this year and they're all different artists. Daft Punk, Led Zeppelin, and Nat King Cole.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Strangefrost

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Oof. Probably Strangefrost by a pinch because I've written more of it but I love frostiron so they're practically tied.

What work was the quickest to write?

'Saucerers' was the shortest at just over 600 words, but I feel like 'Warm' was possibly one of the quickest to write. I was fast with getting out some of the Happiness Is Relative series and the second chapter of 'You Want Ice With That?' was a fast one, too. I swear there was one I did in like 4 hours (which is quick for me), but like a good speedy 4 hours not like the 'oh my god this took me 4 hours' feeling, if you get my drift? XD

What work took you the longest to write?

This year, I feel like it was the second chapter for 'Juvelen Av Trollmenn'. I find domestic scenes really tough and it was a bit of a slog. I would've made the chapter twice as long to inject more energy into it but I feel it worked out better having another dozier one before it gets a kick in chapter 3.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

Oh boy. I have at least 11 I either plan to or could continue, and that's only for the two fandoms I'm still actively writing. I'm going to be slowing down a bit next year though because I need to alternate with my original work.

What’s your longest work of the year?

'Juvelen Av Trollmenn' at 7,057 words so far.

What’s your shortest work of the year?

'Saucerers' at 639 words.

What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

Several of them. 'Juvelen Av Trollmenn' for sure. I want to continue 'Superior', 'The True Glorious Purpose Of The Sorcerer', and 'Amendments'. I'd also like to update 'The Deepest Circle' and 'Settling Debts' for the PotC side of things. And more things, too.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Probably Strangefrost or Explicit Sexual Content lol

Your favorite character to write this year?

That's a tough one. I mean Loki is involved in nearly all of them, so technically him, but I've really enjoyed writing Stephen Strange's POV.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Tony Stark. Hands down. I adore him but I am a lowly British person with little knowledge of Americanisms or his pop culture banter. I just try my best and the more I work at it the less he sounds exactly like Stephen.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Tbh I'd really like to try my hand at Loki/Peter Quill in a oneshot.

Which work of yours have you reread the most?

Probably 'Proximity' or 'Warm'. Though I've been re-reading 'Superior' and 'You Want Ice With That' a bunch, too.

How many kudos in total did you get this year?

2,204

Which work has the most comments?

'The Incorrigible Loki Bangs The MCU'

Did you do any collaborative works this year?

I didn't, alas. I'm not much of a collaborator, but Simuran translated 'Everything Turns To Gold' into Russian, which is pretty cool, if that counts.

Did you write any gifts this year?

No, I should try that out sometime. I've noted a few prompts down that people have mentioned that I could write as gifts someday.

Did you receive any gifts this year?

Nope!

What’s your most common category?

M/M for sure

What do you listen to while writing?

Alas I don't. I need quiet to write or I can't focus and will try to sing. Though sometimes I have put on Loki or Doctor Strange soundtracks. For 'Superior' I listened to some Black Sabbath to get a vibe but not while directly writing. I've also been putting on a bunch of Nordic traditional stuff the few times I've written with music going on.

Favorite work you wrote this year?

Between 'You Want Ice With That?', 'Superior', and 'Warm'.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Ffff I have no idea, but the first one that comes to mind is: "Look, you wanna get Tall, Dark and Horizontal, or what?” from 'You Want Ice With That?'

Biggest surprise while writing this year?

How hard I fell into the Strangefrost pit, I guess? XD Or how much fanfic I've managed to churn out now I'm bitten by the bug.

[nahastoyou]

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A handful of other numbers carry that same weight, making Born Sinner a daring step forward for Cole and an exciting attempt at mastering Jay's Blueprint style. Still, "Crooked Smile" with special guests TLC is a genuine, mature step in the right direction and will have no trouble reaching vintage age. is completely free, reliable and popular way to store files online. Nas (2013) Cole got together with the original 'Illmatic' Nasty Nas for a remix of 'Let Nas Down'. All this bold borrowing is backed up by lyrics that flow fine until their shocking twists ("She raisin' that guy's kids while she swallowin' mine"), while "She Knows" with Dirty Projectors vocalist Amber Coffman is shameless enough to spit "This is Martin Luther King in the Club/With a bad bitch in his ear/Saying that she down for whatever/In the back of his mind is Coretta." It's snide, smart-ass stuff and when it comes to sublime/ridiculous balancing act that his heroes Jay-Z and Nas have mastered, Cole is a little short on the sublime side here to be considered classic. Born Sinner (Deluxe Edition) (2013) Coles second studio album. Cole is the one who produced most of the album himself with his Kanye-sense of sampling (work songs, gospel, old soul, etc.) and his love of hard bass (check "Trouble," "Chaining Day," or infectious single "Power Trip" for some great low end) both returning from before, but it's his love of jazz that provides the greatest rewards as "Forbidden Fruit" (it's like Erykah Baduh meets Ice Cube on this soulful dude cut with guest Kendrick Lamar) and "Let Nas Down" (a pledge to honor the man with better rhymes and less pop) are both driven by their Blue Note-inspried backbeats. No spoiler alert required for that one as the opening "Villuminati" has the gall to sample Biggie's classic "Juicy" while using Jay's nickname as a mantra by repeating "Sometimes I brag like Hov," but besides this, Born Sinner is the a more self-confessional and word-filled effort than before, all of it very busy and Black Album minus the references to Beyoncé and the beats from Rick Rubin. Cole - 2014 Forest Hills Drive (full album) mp3 Quality: Good Download. Cole - Born Sinner (Full Album) (Explicit) mp3 Quality: Good Download.

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[shellheadtmarc]

tag drop

[mandoalorian]

Agent whisky (Teacher) x New agent (student). As you’re both fighting, you both get hot and bothered and reader throws him against a wall and the rest in folds. (Fem reader)

After Class [Jack Daniels x Reader] SMUT

Word count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: SMUT, p in v, creampie, choking, teacher x student, exhibitionist kink, implied age difference

Masterlist

He was insufferable. He was your teacher — and oh, you hated him. You hated how he'd come into class smelling like sweet, honeyed cologne, causing all the girls to swoon at the mere sight of him. It was laughable, really. He wasn't anything special. He was attractive, sure. He had the charm of a king and the politeness of a saint. But it didn't matter because you hated him, and you wanted him to know that you hated him. So you'd talk during his lectures and you'd roll your eyes whenever he tried addressing you directly. He had this know-it-all attitude, he had these deep, chocolate brown eyes that were so easy to get lost in. The Statesman Academy shouldn't have even hired him. It was so easy to get lost in those damn eyes.

His eyes were just a few shades darker than his hair, which he kept hidden under a cringe-worthy cowboy hat. But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't dreamt of wearing it while you ride him. The dirty fantasies about Mr Daniels (though he'd have you call him 'sir') didn't become regular until a few months ago. Now it was every single class where you became hypnotised by his attractive looks.

You hated his perfectly groomed mustache and how the thought of it brushing against your cunt haunted you during his seminars. You hated the perfect curve in his nose and how you imagined it nudging against your clit as he performed the most life changing oral on you. If only he knew about the things that went on in that filthy little mind of yours.

You practically gasped out loud when Mr Daniels dropped your assignment on the desk in front of you, a circle with a big red 'F' marked on. He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at you, before moving on to hand out the rest of the essays. No way— there was no way that your essay has been marked fairly. You might have been slacking just a little this semester (due to Mr Daniels obnoxious handsome looks), but not to the extent of getting an F in your finals!

"Well done class, we all performed exceptionally well this term. There is however one person I need to see after class, she knows who she is," Mr Daniels glanced briefly at you and you narrowed your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. "But have an excellent vacation and remember don't party too hard." He winked cheekily before dismissing the class. Once the students filed out of the room, and the bell rang, signifying the end of the day, Mr Daniels stalked back into the classroom. He said nothing, didn't even spare you a look. He padded over to his desk, sunk into his chair and began to go through paperwork.

You waited for something— anything. The silence was deafening, and you began to tap your feet against the floor impatiently. Why the hell was he holding you hostage in his stuffy classroom on the last day of term? You assumed it was due to your abysmal grade on your essay, but he hadn't even mentioned it. He was ignoring you and once again, you hated him for it.

You were staring him out with absolutely no shame, taking in all his features. You admired his broad shoulders and watched his bicep flex as he wrote comments on the work he was checking through.

He'd noticed your staring too. He always had. He tried to contain the blush that crept up on his cheeks as your eyes burned into his body, watching his every move. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife. If he was going to speak to you about your essay result, he'd need to have a drink first. After a few more minutes of silence, he excused himself and left the classroom. Each professor at the academy had their own affinity for alcohol, Mr Daniels' beverage of choice being a glass of warm whiskey. He poured it into a small tumbler, admiring the amber liquid as he dropped a few cubes of ice in, letting it clink against the glass. The mere thought of you in his classroom, waiting for you, was enough to make his cock stir. He sighed, gulping down the liquid and made his way back to the classroom. It was the first time you and Mr Daniels had some one on one alone time. He hadn't drank enough to get intoxicated, but it was enough for him to lower his inhibitions.

He walked into the classroom and locked the door behind him, before turning to face you.

"Why am I here?" you asked with an unamused frown.

"You went from being a straight A student to getting an F in your most important exam of the year," Mr Daniels huffed with a disappointed shake of his head. You didn't care— no, you couldn't let yourself care about your professor. But seeing the despondency written across his face was enough to make your heart yearn with guilt for letting him down. "What happened?" he quizzed you eventually.

You considered his question. You weren't a dishonest person, and you knew exactly what had happened. You had been so distracted by your professor's ravenous demeanor, that you'd become too overcome with sexual desire to even focus the slightest in his lectures.

"You happened." you said, regretting the words as soon as they left your lips. Your voice broke slightly— you sounded pathetic.

"Excuse me?" he asked, raising both of his eyebrows in disingenuous surprise. You wanted to wipe the smirk that you saw creeping up on his lips. Your education wasn't a joke.

"I was doing fine in Agent Tequila's class," you acknowledged. "Maybe it's your teaching." you shrugged.

"My teaching?" Mr Daniels gasped incredulously.

"Oh quit playing dumb," you said, suddenly rising to your feet. Your chair scraped against the floor as you stalked over to your teacher. "I know my worth Mr Daniels, and it's not an F."

"Please, call me Jack." He hummed, reaching out and caressing your cheek. You subconsciously leaned into his smooth hand as his thumb rubbed gentle circles into your jaw. You hadn't even realised how close he had gotten to you as he admired your face, and the intimacy began to take effect down below.

"Oh, first name basis?" you spat sarcastically, pressing the palm of your hand against his chest, threading your fingers through the buttons of his white shirt so you could gently graze the skin of his tan chest. "How polite."

"Manners maketh man," he smirked, quoting the Statesman mantra, and you wanted to wack that dumb cowboy hat off his head. "Let me translate that for you," he pouted condescendingly, letting his hands fall to your own chest.

He squeezed your tits through your blouse, drawing a few wanton moans from you. "Wh- what makes you think I need that translated?" you asked your professor, trying to keep your cool. This is exactly what you had dreamt about for the past three months. His thumb rolled over your hardening nipples, pinching them now and again so he could watch you squirm underneath his touch.

"The F on your paper?" he shot back. Your eyes widened and you pushed him into the wall, his back slamming against the concrete as he groaned from the pressure you'd placed on him. He would be lying if he said it didn't feel good though. It was rare he'd have a lady take charge — especially not one as young and bright eyed as yourself.

"I hate you," you snarled as his fingers dipped under the hem of your short, pleated skirt. He chuckled darkly, sending a frenzy of butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"Oh sugar," he drawled, the smell of scotch lacing his breath as he pressed a soft kiss into your jaw. You couldn't contain the small whimper that escaped your lips. He smirked, knowing exactly what he could do to you— how he could make you feel. "Look at you… got me pressed against the wall. I'm your teacher." he reminded you with a small tut.

"You drive me crazy," you admitted in a fluster, your hand falling down his button up shirt and resting at his oversized belt buckle. The coolness of the metal stung your skin as you parted your legs slightly, rubbing what you could on his jean clad thigh. "When you stand up there, in front of the class, talking all that shit about, about-" you couldn't even get your words out as his fingers graced your cunt, feeling out your clit under the material of your dampening panties.

"What?" Jack murmured, his teeth grazing your jaw as he sucked softly against your skin. "What is it?" he urged you to continue, your breathing jumping as he continued to softly press his thick fingers along your aching core. You tried to answer but nothing except lewd moan came out, and you felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "You joined the academy. You wanted to train as an agent. Maybe you'd prefer it if I transferred your classes to, let's say, Agent Champ? Or the sweet Ginger Ale?"

You curled your fingers around his leather belt. "N-no," you growled. "I want you," you revealed as you unclipped it and tossed it to one side. You groaned wantonly as you felt his erection press up against your thigh. It was clear that your professor wanted you too. "You know if- if Principal Champ finds out about this…" you moaned, working your fingers at Jack's zipper.

"He's not going to find out about this," Jack snapped, his harsh tone causing your eyes to snap open.

"O-okay cowboy," you bit your lip seductively, finally pulling his zipper down and freeing his hard, aching cock. You immediately wrapped your hand around him, smearing his precum down his length and started to pump at his erection, satisfied with the string of curses falling from his tongue.

"Fuck- so good," Jack praised as you worked his cock with your hands. "But I want more… I want to bury my cock in the warmth of your pussy. Would you like that baby girl?" he hummed, both his hands grabbing on your shoulders as he turned around and pushed you into the wall. You gasped as he ripped open your blouse in one swift manouver, the buttons popping and falling everywhere. His hungry lips pressed against yours as he slid his tongue into your mouth, kissing you roughly and with passion.

"Someone could just walk in." you gasped as Jack yanked your skirt down, letting it pool around your ankles.

He groaned longingly as he played with the waistband of your panties. "Lace? For school? I knew you were a dirty girl." he chuckled darkly before pulling them down. He wasted no time, pressed two fingers into your weeping cunt and rubbing between your folds. He stroked tight and precise circles into your clit, desperate to pump an orgasm out of you before he even entered. Your eyes snapped shut as you pressed your fingernails into his still clothed back. "Oh, you like that don't you?"

"Mm don't stop," you begged, rolling your hips against his fingers.

"Is this what you think about during my lectures?" Jack cooed. "Or do you imagine my cock?" He pressed his blunt tip against the inside of your thigh, pushing himself in between your legs. "So fucking wet and all for me." your professor shook his head in slight awe. You pushed the hat off his head and tangled your fingers in his dark brown hair, tugging teasingly in attempt to gain a reaction out of him.

Without warning, two of his fingers pushed inside of you and began to scissor you open. "If you want my cock I gotta make sure you're able to take it," he whispered huskily.

His fingers worked like magic and it wasn't long before your walls tightened around him and you reached your climax. "Greedy pussy." Jack sighed, removing his fingers and sucking them clean.

"Please sir, fuck me," you begged, your hands cupping his face as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"I told you, call me Jack," he growled before pushing himself deep into your quivering hole.

"Fuck Jack," you whined once he was fully seated. He was bigger than you had ever taken before, and he set a brutal pace. The classroom filled with obscene wet sounds as every single thrust became harder and sloppier as his balls slapped against your dripping cunt.

Jack kept up his pace, not halting once. "You always- you always fucking answer back," he whispered, digging one hand into your hip and bringing the other to your neck, squeezing it just enough for your eyes to widen slightly.

"Mm you always give me a reason too," you shot back and Jack's grip around you tightened as he fucked you senselessly.

"Shit, gonna cum. Gonna cum inside you and you're going to take it— understood?" he asked breathlessly. You nodded in affirmation and it only took a few more messy thrusts before he spilled his salty seed inside you.

He carefully sat you down on the edge of his desk as you came down from your own high. "Are you okay?" he asked you as he tucked himself back in his pants and adjusted his tie.

"That better have earned me an A," you muttered, biting your lip and shooting a seductive glance towards your teacher.

"Fair is fair," Jack shrugged. "You can leave when you're ready. Have a nice vacation." he smiled, back to his usual polite professor self. It made you sick— the way he could just fuck you with no remorse against the wall of his classroom and then pretend like nothing happened.

You stood up, taking your clothes from the ground and lazily sliding back into your skirt. "I don't have a fucking blouse," you mumbled, your eyes following the abundance of buttons that trailed across the floor. "You ruined it."

Mr Daniels took his suit jacket and wrapped it around your naked torso, buttoning it up gently so you were all covered up. "Do you need a lift home?" he asked.

You bit your lip, remembering your parents weren't home and smiled. "Actually, yeah please." you told him, wondering if he'd be interested in a round two.

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[sylseal]

Cold Hands (D&D Fiction)

“Well, nothing is expected of the king’s middle daughter, that’s part of the problem! She can’t apply herself properly if she’s not had any expectations placed on her. I mean, then again, she’s not even good at playing the violin, so maybe there’s really no point of trying to place any expectations on her to begin with. In that case, just get her married to someone from Arvandor and be done with it.”

It was soul-crushing to hear those words coming from someone Rysela had just held a pleasant conversation with not five minutes earlier. She might have been younger than 14, but that didn’t make her unobservant or stupid.

This was supposed to be her night. She was to perform, in front of an audience of her father’s friends, and then there was supposed to be a lovely party afterwards, but it had all gone wrong. She couldn’t find her instrument, and when she finally did, several of the strings broke out of nowhere partway through her playing, and now, even the party itself was going terribly. Mister Amamne, the man who had spoken, was rather disliked for his brash nature and the way he constantly acted out of line, but Rysela had never known him to speak on something unless it were true. Slowly, Rysela looked up toward her mother, Althaea, who was currently holding her hand.

Althaea looked mortified, her silvery eyes wide and painted red lips slightly parted. Rysela’s mother looked so gorgeous, in her dark veil and her starry dress and her makeup, while little Rysela herself looked extremely...not. In fact, if you asked the girl, she’d tell you that she looked rather frumpy. Frizzy black hair, eyes that were a little too big and with canines that were a little too long to be quite right. She didn’t know why she was like this, only that she was, and unless she got a free wish spell, she was stuck like this. Her mind, however, was not on her appearance at the moment, but rather, on mister Amamne’s damning words.

As Rysela began to shake a little, her mother attempted to wrap her arms around her in a hug, and whisper denials and words of reassurance to Rysela in comfort. However, Rysela didn’t, or rather, couldn’t respond to her mother’s attempts at distracting her from the cruel words. Her attention, instead, was focused solely on Amamne, so much so that she couldn’t even hear her mother after a few more moments. She only saw him. She only felt just how much she hated. Him. How much she just wanted him to freeze, and shut his mouth. She grit her teeth behind closed lips, tears rolling down her face, and her hands curled into fists. She felt this...thread inside herself in that moment of pure focus. A long, thin white thread, and it was all that was keeping her from shutting Amamne up. All she had to do to fix that...was break it.

She didn’t think. Thinking had made her lose the violin. Thinking made her press too hard on the strings and made them pop. Thinking was stupid. And as that last thought went through her head, she could feel that thread inside her finally snap.

She heard the crackling of energy, and mister Amamne turned just in time for a spark of a frostbite spell to catch the drinking glass in his hand-

And shatter it like ice, sending little shards of glass everywhere.

The first noise that resounded was a combination between a squeak and a shout from several of the other guests as people looked on in shock. It was like a wave of magic blasted through the room, and though it only affected one person, all the guests had felt its pulse, which was quite strange for something as low-powered as a cantrip. More alarming, however, was the fact that frostbite was a spell that required verbal and somatic components. Yet...

...Rysela had just cast a spell, without verbal or somatic components.

People looked between that broken glass in mister Amamne’s hand, and then to little Rysela. Even Althaea was staring in shock. Then, just like that, realization washed over her like a tidal wave. She had just done something extraordinarily stupid. Oh no, oh gods, what was she going to do!?

Panic. She was panicking.

Wriggling free of her mother’s grasp, Rysela turned and bolted for one of the exit halls. She heard a distant, “Rysie, wait!” from her mother, but she didn’t respond; fear was was the only thing occupying her mind, then. Would they arrest her? Throw her in jail? Accuse her of intentionally assaulting mister Amamne? Oh gods, what would her family think of her now!? Was she going to become the family outcast, the one to be swept under the rug!?

Her whole body was shaking with nerves running so high, which was probably why, as she proceeded down the stone steps of the concert hall, she tripped and fell. Thankfully, she managed to avoid falling down the stairs, but her knees and hands showed notable scrapes and cuts. She couldn’t keep running, she was in far too much pain. So, she just curled up right there on the stone steps, burying her face in her knees and whimpering, while tears rolled down her face.

And there she stayed, for what felt like far too long. An eternity of one whole minute, she later learned, but it stretched out like hours of pure sobbing agony.

Eventually, though, Rysela heard the slow clack of heels against stone, and then the rustling of cloth as someone sat down beside her. A warm arm came to wrap around her shoulders and back, and Rysela looked up through blurred, teary-eyed vision to see her mother smiling softly down at her.

“M-mom?” she whimpered, but Althaea removed her arm from around Rysela, took her hands gently, and began to heal her scrapes. Rysela opened her mouth, but Althaea spoke first.

“Mister Amamne’s hand is being treated currently.” Her voice was even-tempered and calm. There was even a little hum to her tone as she continued speaking, “It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to heal with even a first level cure wounds, and none of the other guests were injured. So, don’t worry about that.” She finished up one hand, and began to move to the other. “Now, do you want to tell me what happened in there, little flower?”

“I-I-” Rysela began, mind taking a moment to process as she gently wiped her tears using her arms. Not because she was ashamed, mind you, but because damn it, she wanted to at least see her mother when talking to her, and she couldn’t do that through tears. Swallowing thickly, she let out a shaking breath, and looked away before beginning to speak, “O-one second he was saying all these...these mean things, and I just wanted him to stop, just wanted him to be quiet, and then there was this feeling like something breaking inside me, a-and the next thing I knew his glass just...exploded. I-I don’t know what...”

“You cast magic,” her mother whispered in her ear, hands having finished on Rysela’s hands, and now beginning to move over her knees, “without any verbal or somatic components, and without really intending to. More than that...everyone in there felt the pulse of your magic go off. Sweetie...what you just did is something most wizards only dream of managing.”

“H-huh?” Rysela’s voice was clear confusion. Again, she wiped her tears away, only to see her mother beaming instead of scowling, in the way only a mother can.

“I am upset that you lost control of your anger, and we will discuss that,” Althaea looked serious for a moment, and Rysela withered a little at those words, but her mother was quick not to let it linger, positive expression returning as she continued, “but, I think once tomorrow rolls around, we should seriously sit down and talk about the next steps that someone with your inherent magical talents should take in terms of a proper education here in the city.”

“S-so,” Rysela’s voice was barely stable enough to speak without sobbing again, but she was managing, “t-they’re not gonna have me arrested...?” Her mother actually let out a giggle at that, with a voice of silvery bells. Then, she shook her head,

“No, darling. For one thing: you’re the king’s daughter. They won’t have you arrested unless it’s something truly, intentionally malicious. Second, it wasn’t like his hand was terribly injured, most of the glass actually fragmented so much that any cuts to his hand were tiny and can heal with a basic cure wounds spell. Third, he kind of had it coming, and I think he knew that. After you ran off, he mumbled that he had clearly had a little too much to drink, and chose instead to go sit down somewhere. So, he took it in relatively good spirits.” Rysela didn’t need to wipe her tears anymore, sort-of amazed at how much of a turnaround this was from the rest of her evening. However, her mother raised an eyebrow at her and asked one last question:

“And...it was an accident, wasn’t it Rysie?” Rysela balked at that, eyes going wide.

“O-of course it was!” Rysela’s emotions, of sheer panic and fear, must have also shown through on her face, because her mother was very quick to pat her on the head and reassure her,

“Then you have nothing to be afraid of, little flower. Now, come on. Let’s go back inside. You do owe mister Amamne an apology and an explanation, after all.”

“I...” the little girl swallowed hard, nodding as she took her mother’s hand, standing up and turning towards the entrance of the concert hall once more. “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

Rysela smiled a little bit as they walked, and Althaea found it infectious; how quickly the moods of a child could change with just a few words...

“I love you,” the little one beamed, and Althaea’s smile widened. She couldn’t help but chuckle and lean down to kiss the top of her middle-daughter’s head, as they stepped back inside.

“I love you too, sweetie.”

[sugar-petals]

Caro would you rank figure skater's butts like you know... in a 'Caro way'?

it’s gonna be another thread. but be careful what you ask for: this is a sport that trains the glutes and thighs like mad. even the skinniest guys walk around like a coke bottle. do you survive a preview?

(^ the reigning king mr. yuzuru hanyu, i’ll talk to you about this infamous booty man in a minute)

PLUS it’s like in formula 1: by virtue of physical laws, the best are all between 5′2 - 5′8. which means visual proportions are in their favor. so brace yourselves.

PS - i rate from 1-10. i also include a frontal picture so you see the skaters properly, this thread has some pretty intense contortions and behind views as you’d expect 😂 and we also gotta enjoy how good-looking they are.☝️

let’s start with a guy who does the heavy duty jumps so you can see how figure skating shapes someone. 

^nathan chen - very underrated yale student booty, come on this is literally america’s ass! nate is pretty amazingly built in general, i wanna hear more people talking about it. when gravity is mean to his handsome face because he’s spiralling into outer space again, the chebooty steps right in for him. yes wow, it’s so big and photogenic. the waist when it twists, spectacular. 10/10

^shoma uno - the cute pup seems to be popular on my blog. you guys like him? legit. very smol guy, very curvy, very dynamic skater who comes to life on the ice. and no, this sparkly fella is not a pre-schooler. his coach and the whole figure skating world will disagree with that but shooms is 23! his thickness is legendary and has everyone around the world shook. the s-line is pretty incredible. what can i say. 10/10

^javier fernandez - retired matador, but left a legacy for sure. still a big deal after being a commentator on the world championships and everyone loves the guy so i include him. superjavi is taller and slimmer and you’re probably looking at his costumes instead (this guy did everythig in the book, halloween skills 10/10). regardless, he has a nice side profile and it looks great in motion! the angle in the picture above, chef’s kiss. 7.5/10

deniss vasilijevs - ah, everyone’s tall smart blonde latvian crush. has grown his hair into a ponytail recently so extra points. everyone who trains with stephane lambiel (pictured above) seems to be really thick hence shoma looks like that as well. deniss, not much to say, it catches your eye what’s not to like! solid. he skated a tango recently so man, he got it all. 9/10

boyang jin - he’s hilarious, i love him. like nathan: underrated big posterior! he likes eating all kinds of cakes at figure skating gala dinners and said fact grew a cake on him therefore, jin magic! he also channelled major peter parker booty vibes in his spiderman costume as well. give my favorite geek some more credit everyone, jin looks great! 10/10

jason brown - US figure skating’s number one cutest sunshine. jason lights up the world with his positivity and great body, fantastic jabooty! i mean, look at that picture man. 8/10

keiji tanaka - OOF! a skating veteran with an amazing shape. the pictures speak for themselves again. the waist, the thighs! handsome keiji is a beast. friends, i don’t have to say more. 10/10

keegan messing - a favorite canadian with SUPER emotional skating that always has a personal theme. and you can tell from a mile away that keegs is thick as hell. he wears tight clothing and is mega flexible, jesus. he recently married and i wanna congratulate his wife lane — seen above, i haven’t seen a brighter smile on a bride — on her wonderful short king. 10/10

mikhail kolyada - another underdiscussed skater who’s pretty damn good and puts on a sizzling show! mike is a perfect blend of adorable and handsome. you won’t believe it, he’s 26. well-endowed with a backside, mother russia got something to offer. the kolbooty — it’s just right. look how proportionate and that curve. 8/10

junhwan cha - the utter pride of south korea and an ever-improving amazing talent, junhwan is tall, slim, and gorgeous. to reiterate how his coach (brian orser) has summarized it at worlds yesterday: “beautiful!!” you can’t expect an elf-like 180cm giant who models for VOGUE to have a huge ass. it just wouldn’t fit into the whole elegant impression. i’ll give a low score but know that junhwan is perfect. 3/10

daisuke takahashi - a living legend that HAS to be included, the oldest on the list! dai is 35 and has to be mentioned here since he returned to figure skating! he got back so. (10/10)

yuzuru hanyu - the preview guy! yeah: whew, he vibes different. collect your jaws, everybody. the best figure skater out there obviously has a breathtaking silhouette and the juiciest royal buns. which do pretty crazy things in his routines and when they’re clad in his many fancy pants causing twitter to collapse. mind he often wears padding because his jumps are dangerous af so yuzu will gently fall. but still, everyone in the fandom knows that the yubooty is shapely and way too smacktastic to ignore. 

yuzu knows, too, his ass is seemingly in every camera and he bends himself over like nobody’s business. imo, and all his colleagues are saying that, the waist kind of steals the show even more. his torso is entirely flat so his hips stand out even more. ugh, nice thighs, too. full package (literally, no wonder he’s so confident), as always he goes the extra mile. 113/10! (112 is his short program high score and he always breaks the record so i award 113)

...hard to believe yuzu is such a smol cutie pie. 😌🌻

[brideofkylosolo]

Writer Wednesday Week 28

Writer Wednesday Week 28

Tagging: @writer-wednesday

The Prettiest Lady

Henry/Julia (OC) (Annette)

Henry spies a belle at a ball while in Venice.

Warnings:  Smut, oral, cunnilingus, handjob.

     The boat glided silently through the dark water like a snake searching for its next prey.  Not a single soul was out in the city of Venice that evening, at least in the open.  Behind closed doors, now that was a different story.

     The gondolier eased the boat up to a doorway lit by a single light.  The passenger stood up and walked onto the small stoop, knocking on the door.  A man dressed in a simple black doublet, matching tights, and a mask answered.  He bowed.  “Buona sera signore.”

     The man nodded and walked inside.  He walked down a short hallway and into a large living area filled with people.  Everyone was dressed in ornate outfits from the Renaissance era along with masks.  Henry surveyed the room, taking in all the gorgeous women.  His eyes soon fell on one particular lady sitting on a red velvet chaise lounge in the corner.  He smiled at her; she returned the smile.

     Henry made his way across the room, his brown eyes transfixed on the women’s blue ones.  He soon reached her and took her hand in his, giving the back of it a soft kiss.  “Good evening, my fair maiden,” he greeted her.

     “Good evening, my liege,” the women purred at Henry.  “So nice to see you this lovely evening.”

     “The same,” replied Henry, never once breaking contact with her eyes.

     Those eyes.  Henry swear he could lose himself for eternity in them.  Two gorgeous spheres of ice blue, like water.

     The women wordless stood up and the couple slipped out one of the side doors, making their way upstairs to one of the bedrooms on the second floor.  Once inside, Julia deeply kissed Henry on the lips.

     “I’ve missed you so, my darling,” she told him in between kisses.

     Henry deepened his kisses in response.  He lifted her onto the king-sized bed, never breaking his kiss.  He undid the laces on her bodice and pulled down her camicia, exposing her tiny yet pert breasts.  He pulled away from the kiss and took Julia’s right nipple in his mouth.  He suckled on it like it was the sweetest wine he had ever tasted.

     Julia let out a moan as her lover swirled his tongue around the delicate nub expertly.  She reached up and threaded her fingers in his soft, dark hair, holding his lips close to her bosom.   It felt heavenly.

     Once her bud was standing at full attention, Henry slowly pulled away.  He pulled her top off fully as well as her undergarments, tossing them to the floor.  Julia simultaneously undid Henry’s doublet and pulled it off his wide muscular shoulders.  She undid his hose and pulled them off his hips, his semi-erect member popping out of its restraints.  She took it in her hand and gently stroked it; it was Henry’s turn to moan in pleasure.

     Soon, his organ stood at full attention, a tiny amount of pre-cum leaking from the tip.  Henry repositioned himself so that his head was settled in between Julia’s legs.  He placed them over his shoulders and spread her lower lips with his fingers.  He then licked a strip up her folds, his tongue flicking over her clit.

     “Oh gods,” she sighed, her back lifting off the soft comforter of the bed.

     Henry licked her honey pot again, his lips locking around her pleasure bud.  He sucked on it, making it instantly swell; Julia moaned loader in response.  He intensified his suckling and she was soon on the brink of orgasm.

     Julia let out a loud wail as she came.  Her back arched as her climax soared throughout her body, making her see stars.  She gripped the blanket tightly in her hand as her mind reeled.  She limply fell onto the bed, panting hard.

     Henry gently kissed the nape of her neck, letting her take some time to collect herself.  He didn’t wait too long before he placed the tip of his throbbing erection at the entrance to her soaked cave.  He rubbed it up and down, making sure there was plenty of lubrication to aid them; he would never forgive himself if he hurt her.  He slowly pushed his rigid shaft inside her, her warm cavern quickly enveloping him; it felt heavenly.

     Henry took a brief moment to let Julia adjust to his size.  He knew that while he was a very gentle lover, he still tried to be mindful whenever he made love with her.  He didn’t want to harm her, intentional or otherwise.  Once he was certain she was as ready as she could be, he began to slowly rock his hips.  His length slid in and out of her core, aided by a mixture of their natural juices.  He nibbled his lip as he looked down at his lover.  She looked like an angel as she lay on the bed.  It fueled Henry.  He wanted, no, he needed to come inside her, his love.

     He pumped his hips faster, his desire increasing with each thrust.  He was so close, he could feel it.  So close.  Henry’s breath came in short pants as he felt his cock twitch.  Before he knew it, he came hard inside Julia.  His hot sperm shot deep into her essence.  Julia followed suit, coming again as well for the second time.

     Henry collapsed forward, catching himself.  He hugged Julia close, the two of them basking in the afterglow of sex.  Below them, the party continued, yet neither of them cared.  They had all they needed.  Each other.

[junqkook]

— THE YOUNG WOLF (m.)

pairing; jungkook/reader genre; game of thrones au, angst, smut words; 23,003 rating; explicit

— synopsis; he was promised to another, meant for another to hold and to love and to kiss. but when his hand lingered on yours for a moment too long to be proper, and when his eyes held yours for a beat too long to be a passing glance, you allowed desire to creep into your veins, to take root inside your heart. perhaps before you might have been permitted to love him freely. perhaps he might have even been promised to you instead. but war was no place for the wants and desires of two people, no matter how much they yearned for it to be.

contents; stark jungkook, arranged marriage, (kind of) forced wedding, war, graphic depictions of violence, blood, murder (massacre, really), betrayal, manipulation, character deaths (minor and major), lovers to enemies to lovers, mutual pining (lots of pining), grief, loss, depression, trauma, reader’s dad slaps her once, infertility, slight dubcon if you squint (sort of but not really), alternating pov, virgin reader, jungkook’s got a big dick, very slight virgin kink, rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex (stay safe!), breath play, masochism, some sadism, dom jungkook, manhandling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting/marking, fingering, dirty talk, possessiveness, riding.

— notes; this is based on a song of ice and fire by george r.r. martin (aka game of thrones). includes major spoilers for the series, however previous knowledge of game of thrones is not needed to understand the fic. please read the contents carefully before proceeding. also i’m so sorry this is so long, i couldn’t shut up.

the young wolf. the dragonrider. vipers in the sand. every rose has thorns. as good as gold. blood of the dragon. the king who knelt.        ↳ series masterlist.

JUNGKOOK

His eyes scanned the parchment, the dried ink settling his heart into his throat. He looked up at his mother and the maester, their worried eyes trained on him as he took only seconds to make a decision.

“Call the banners,” he said, voice gruff.

“All of them?” his mother asked quietly while the maester watched on.

“All of them.” Jungkook’s tone left no room for argument, his eyes cold as ice. “They all swore oaths to defend my father. Let us see now what their words are worth.”

The maester nodded his head and left the room as quickly as his old bones could carry him, the rings on the chains dangling off his shoulders signifying the many subjects he had mastered clanking with each step he took. Jungkook shut his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers as the words on the small scroll bounced around his head.

“Are you sure about this?” his mother asked him, coming to stand by his side and rest a hand on his shoulder.

Jungkook sighed and stood straighter before looking down at his mother. “The new king has labeled my father a traitor and keeps him in chains. This message is a royal summons that I cannot ignore.” He looked away from her dark eyes, clenching the parchment in his fist. “If he wants us to come south, we will. But we will bring an army of Northmen with us.”

His mother pursed her lips and nodded slowly, letting her hand fall away from his shoulder. “Whatever your decision, I will stand behind you.”

Jungkook smiled briefly at her. “If it’s a war the king wants, it’s a war he’ll get.”

YOU

“When will we arrive?” you asked your father, the horses trotting along the Kingsroad leisurely.

Your father, an older man with a gruff exterior and experience with war, grunted and shrugged a shoulder. “Your brother rode ahead of us. It shouldn’t be too much longer until we reach the Jeon boy.” You stayed quiet, letting your horse follow your father’s the rest of the way.

By the time you reached the camp, night had fallen and darkened the skies. Torches had been lit around the tents and along the way. Many men wandered around the grounds, chatting with their fellow Northmen. You turned forward again just in time to see your father unmount his horse and leave it to a squire from your household. You quickly followed suit, sliding off the saddle and handing the reins to the same boy, only a handful of years younger than you.

You knew your father was headed off to see the son of Lord Jeon, Warden of the North, and that he wouldn’t want you coming along. So you stayed behind, slinking in the shadows away from the torches, keeping a careful eye on your father until he reached a tent and ducked in through the flap, two men guarding it and prohibiting anyone else from entering.

You cursed under your breath and attempted to make your way to the side, but you could see one of the guards eyeing you suspiciously, thwarting your plan to eavesdrop on the lords inside. But it didn’t take long for your father to come out of the tent, a younger man right behind him.

When your father saw you, a sheepish smile creeping onto your lips, he rolled his eyes. He walked a few steps away from the tent, talking quietly to the man beside him, and waved you over. You hurried forward, stepping into place beside your father as he cleared his throat.

“My Lord,” he started, gesturing to you. “This is my eldest daughter.” You bowed your head slightly and peeked up at the man through your eyelashes, surprised to find him still looking at you and your heart leapt into your throat. Your father called your name again and then dropped his hand. “This is Lord Jeon’s eldest son of House Stark.”

“My Lord,” you said quietly, keeping your head bowed.

“It is good to meet you, my Lady,” he said kindly, bowing his own head. “My name is Jungkook.” The last part he murmured quietly, as if in an attempt to ease your nerves. It was just loud enough that you knew your father had heard him and your cheeks felt hot when Jungkook continued to watch you even after you had straightened, his eyes holding yours for a few moments that felt like an eternity.

The young lord then moved his eyes to your father, tilting his head respectfully before walking away. Your own eyes followed him, watching every step that he took farther and farther away from you. You snapped out of your daze when your father rested a heavy hand on your shoulder and drew your attention.

He had a strange look on his face, his lips twitching up briefly. “Let’s go find your brother.” You smiled and agreed, pausing just as he began to walk forward. Unable to resist the urge, you pivoted to look behind you for a few seconds before going after your father.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, focused on wrapping the bandage around the man’s leg and keeping it tight to stop the bleeding from worsening. The battle had been a success for Lord Jungkook and the North, as evidenced by the aftermath you now stood in. You were tending to the injured on the field, and you had lost count how many you had attempted to help.

Once you were done, you nodded to the man sitting to the side, signaling for him to take his friend elsewhere. You stood up and stretched your aching muscles for a few moments. A hand came down on your shoulder and you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in a startled gasp.

Your father was giving you a hard look, his bearded face covered in dirt and blood. You swallowed, but you didn’t have the chance to say anything.

“Go on,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of one of the tents. “Lord Jeon’s son is waiting for you.”

You turned to look at the tent he was referring to and bit your lip as you left him to walk over to the tent, your supplies and medicine still in the bag hanging at your hip. Once there, you ducked slightly as you shifted the flap to the side. Entering, you made eye contact with your Lord immediately.

He gave you a brief smile, seated on the edge of the table. You could see blood dripping down his fingers, but the fabric covering his arm was too dark to spot where his injury was.

“My Lord,” you greeted, bowing your head slightly.

“My Lady,” he returned, eyes still focused on you. “You did not need to come. The wound is nothing more than a scratch.”

Your eyebrows went up as you got closer, standing only a few feet away from him. “I mean no offense, my Lord,” you said playfully. “But mere scratches do not bleed as much as yours seems to.”

Lord Jungkook chuckled quietly, the sound causing a flutter in your belly. “My scratches seem to be special, then,” he replied, tone just as teasing as yours.

Unable to hide your smile, you ducked your head so he wouldn’t see instead. You peeked up at him and made to reach for his arm. “May I?” you asked. He nodded his head and held out his hand, which you took in your own. His skin was warm and sticky with blood, but you stopped your thoughts before they could spiral out of line. Pushing his sleeve up, you didn’t fail to notice the way he hissed quietly, his so-called scratch coming into view quickly.

“Is this scratch too big to be mended?” he asked you quietly as you examined it.

You shook your head, running your hands up his arm to the slice on his forearm. “No,” you told him. “But you will need this stitched up. I’m afraid this scratch is too deep to simply bandage up and send you on your way.”

“Stitch it up for me, then,” he commanded, though his voice was soft. When you looked up from his arm, startled, his dark eyes were just as soft.

“Alright.” You swallowed nervously and looked around, spotting a few chairs around the table he was sitting on. “Would you mind moving to the chairs, my Lord? It might take some time.”

He stood without a word and you stumbled back to keep a respectable distance between the two of you. Lord Jungkook dragged two chairs over to where you stood, placing them so they faced each other, and then sat down in one. He raised his eyebrows at you until you sat in the chair opposite him. You looked down to sift through your bag, taking out a thread and needle that had already been prepared from others that had needed stitching as well.

Once you had what you needed, cleaning the needle with a bottle of alcohol that was on the table, you reached out and took his hand in yours gently. You ran your hand up his arm and bent over it, looking up at him with a wince.

“This will hurt, my Lord,” you warned quietly. “Would you like for me to get you some Milk of the Poppy?”

Your Lord shook his head. “No, that’s alright. It is nothing I can’t handle.”

“Excuse me for being adamant, my Lord,” you continued, looking at him properly now. “This is no time to let pride take hold.”

His lips twitched up into a smile. “Do your work, my Lady,” Jungkook replied. “If the pain is too great, I will scream.”

You huffed, turning back down to his wound. You bit your lip and started to sew it shut, wincing every time his muscles tensed under your hands. You were grateful that you had the stomach for it, or you would have to clean the remnants of your pitiful lunch off the floor. You made quick work of the wound, surprised that he did not let out a sound other than a grunt every time the needle pierced his skin and tugged it.

“There,” you mumbled, tying the thread and slipping a knife from your bag to cut the excess.

“Will you bandage it now?” Jungkook asked, his chest moving up and down slowly. There were beads of sweat running down his face.

“Yes,” you replied. You took out the bandaging and started to wrap it around his arm, taking great care not to tighten it so much that it would hurt him. As you worked, you brought up something that had been nagging at the back of your mind. “I heard that you captured the kingslayer during the battle.”

There was no reply for a few moments, the only sounds the faint ones of the men outside the tent. “You have quite the open ears,” he finally said amusedly.

“So I’m right?”

Lord Jungkook chuckled. “You are. He is bound and being held as prisoner.”

You finished bandaging his arm. “Will you use him to bargain for Lord Jeon’s release?”

Looking up, you met his eyes easily. “You’re quite clever, you know,” he said. “I will use him to bargain, yes. The new king will want his uncle back safe.” You gnawed on your bottom lip, your question on the tip of your tongue and just barely being held back by your teeth. Your Lord noticed and sat back in his chair across from you, resting his injured arm across his lap. “Go on, ask whatever it is you’d like.”

Your eyes nearly sparkled as you met his, sitting up straight in your chair. “How did you capture the kingslayer? I heard there was some distraction—”

“Yes, I sent two thousand men down the Kingsroad,” Jungkook explained. “They distracted the kingslayer’s larger forces, led by his father, while I took the rest of my men to the Twins. We ambushed the kingslayer there and he fell into our trap easily. The man has gotten too comfortable in his abilities.”

You hummed. “Very strategic, my Lord. How many men did you lose? I helped where I could with the injured, and there were quite a lot of them.”

Jungkook’s face shut down and he leaned forward again. “Has your father spoken to you?” he asked quietly. When you shook your head, he reached out hesitantly and then rested his hand on your knee. It felt warm through the fabric of your dress. “We lost those two thousand men, and another few hundred during the ambush.” Your heart started to beat harder in your chest. “Among them was your brother.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. He looked sympathetic, his hand on your knee heavy and distracting. You stood from the chair, dislodging his comforting grasp, and he jerked back to avoid your skirts in his face. “No, you’re wrong, you—you must have—”

Lord Jungkook rose as well, standing before you with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, reaching out and taking your shoulders in his hands. He pulled you closer to him, voice softening when he could feel the trembling in your limbs. “I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you stared at him, almost unseeing. He was saying something, but you couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. “No,” you whispered to yourself, your tears starting to slip out. “He can’t—he can’t be dead, he can’t be—”

The Lord pulled you in, crushing you to his chest. You stared at a point on the tent over his shoulder as his hand ran down your back, his cheek pressed to your hair, but still warm. The furs around him were tickling your skin and his breath was warm on your neck when he spoke, though you had no idea what he was saying.

It didn’t feel real, what he’d just told you, the way his arms felt around you, the whispers against your skin. Nothing felt right. You wanted to push him away, wanted to forget what he had said, wanted to go back in time to before the battle—but you couldn’t. And you knew the only thing holding you up was his embrace.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when your senses came back to you, but Lord Jungkook’s arms remained firm around your body, and his head had not moved from its place against your hair. His hand was rubbing your back comfortingly and you felt heat warm your cheeks.

Lifting your hands to his chest, you pushed him back lightly. He looked at you curiously when he moved only inches away from you, hands still pressed warm against your back. “My Lord,” you whispered, cheeks flushed with heat and voice thick. “I—”

“My Lord!”

You startled, turning to look at the entrance of the tent, where a squire had just come in. The young boy was staring at the two of you, locked in an inappropriate embrace, his eyes darting between you. Lord Jungkook cleared his throat and dropped his arms, turning to face the squire, and you inched back slightly, lowering your head—though you knew the boy must have seen you and known who you were. You only hoped he would not spread rumors of what he thought you must have been doing.

“Yes?” he replied. “What is it?”

“The—the kingslayer, my Lord,” the boy stuttered. “He is bound and awaits your audience.”

“Yes, I will be there immediately,” Lord Jungkook said. “You go ahead. I have… things to attend to.”

The young squire’s eyes landed on you for a brief moment before he bowed and took his leave. You were gnawing on your bottom lip hard enough that it was painful. The fleeting moment had passed, taking along with it the ease with which you had forgotten to grieve. With the prying eyes of the squire gone, you returned to feeling like there was an ache in your chest, a gaping hole that felt like your brother’s sweet smile; he had never been cruel, a man too young and too kind for war.

“My Lady,” Lord Jungkook started, reaching out and gently taking your hand. “I am deeply sorry for your loss. If there is anything I can do to ease your pain—” He paused, meeting your eyes intensely. His grip was firm on your hand and his eyes were soft as he watched you. “Please let me know.”

You bowed your head, not knowing what to say to him. The loss still didn’t feel completely real and you weren’t sure if it ever would. You had a feeling that you would still wait every day for your brother to walk into your line of sight, laughing and ready to tell you everything he had done.

Barely able to muster up a smile, you squeezed his hand in return. “Thank you,” you said sincerely. “I will keep that in mind.”

He seemed pleased, a smile breaking out on his face. “I must take my leave now, forgive me. But I thank you for your assistance tonight.” You nodded and he turned away, grabbing his sheathed sword and belt before he left the tent. You met his eyes again when he quickly looked over his shoulder at you, smiling sadly and walking out from under the tent flap.

You followed suit after a few minutes and numbly walked back to your father’s tent, where you found him sitting in a heavy silence. Your knees felt weak and you fell to the ground, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Your father barely looked over at you, his gaze burning a hole into the grass in front of him. You fisted your hands in your skirts until your fingers started to hurt.

And you wept.

JUNGKOOK

He walked with heavy footsteps toward the cell his men had made for the kingslayer. He’d given up part of his freedom to get his hands on the man and succeeded. But his chest was heavy with the sacrifice his men had given for it to be a possibility.

Walking into the cell, he laid his eyes on the man, whose blonde hair was sticking to his face with sweat and dirt. With a wolfish smile, the bound man opened his mouth. “My Lord,” the kingslayer greeted mockingly. “Why haven’t you sent me to one of your bannermen’s castles? Instead you drag me with you to your camp; I dare say you’ve grown fond of me.”

Jungkook had to hold back his sneer, tilting his head to the side instead. He observed the kingslayer’s bonds, his seated position leaving him vulnerable. His hands were bound behind his back to a pole his men had dug into the ground. Seeing him in a similar to position to how he presumed his father to be, all the way in King’s Landing, gave Jungkook a twisted sense of pleasure.

“If I left you with one of my bannermen, your father would know within a fortnight. My bannermen would receive a raven with a message: ‘Release my son and be rich beyond your dreams. Refuse and your House will be destroyed root and stem.’”

The kingslayer raised a brow at his words. “You don’t trust the loyalty of the men following you into battle?”

Jungkook held back a scoff, though his lips did twitch upwards for a second. “Oh, I trust them with my life.” He paused and took in the sight of the Lannister man again, feeling powerful as he towered over him. “Just not with yours.”

The kingslayer chuckled humorlessly. “Smart boy.” Jungkook couldn’t stop the twitch at his words. Of course, the kingslayer took notice of it and tilted his head, his dirty hair falling over his face. “What’s the matter? Don’t like being called ‘boy?’ You feel insulted?”

There was a low growl from behind the cage in the darkness. Jungkook could see the way his body tensed, head shifting to try to get a look behind the cage to no avail. Footsteps echoed in the night, the rumble of the growl low and the short pants sending a chill through the air.

Jungkook’s voice was just as low when he spoke. “You insult yourself, Kingslayer.” The man’s eyes darted to the opposite side as the beast came into view outside the bars, circling it slowly. “You’ve been defeated by a boy. You’re held captive by a boy.” Jungkook paused, a small smile playing at his lips when the kingslayer’s wide eyes remained solely focused on the grey and white fur of the large direwolf as it came to a stop beside Jungkook. “Perhaps you’ll be killed by a boy.”

The direwolf, on all four legs, was nearly half the size of Jungkook himself. He was sure if the beast stood on its hind legs, it would be taller than himself. The pleasure twisting inside of his belly grew stronger at the look on the kingslayer’s face, stiff and fearful. Jungkook slowly brought a hand to rest on the back of his companion, fisting the fur gently in his gloved fingers.

“I’m sending your cousin down to King’s Landing with my peace terms,” Jungkook informed him, comforted by the presence of his wolf.

The kingslayer swallowed roughly and glanced up at him before returning his eyes to the terrifying beast. “If you think my father will negotiate with you, you don’t know him very well.”

“No. But he’s starting to know me.”

The man scoffed. “A few victories don’t make you a conquerer.”

“No,” Jungkook mused, smirking and releasing his loose hold on his direwolf. “But it’s better than a few defeats.” The wolf’s growling grew louder, until it almost drowned out the sound of his voice. “Sleep well, Kingslayer.”

Turning swiftly, Jungkook left the cage and allowed his smile to linger at the sound of his direwolf’s snapping teeth and the rattling of the kingslayer’s chains.

As he walked through the camp, he nodded his head respectfully at the people who greeted him. His eyes raked across the fields, looking for you in particular even though he knew he shouldn’t. You were probably still reeling from the news he’d given you earlier. Jungkook couldn’t quite halt the thoughts of how you had felt in his arms and against his body, like you belonged there, and he couldn’t quite hate himself for it either.

As if the gods had smiled down on him, he bumped right into you while scanning the people for your face. Jungkook’s hands found your arms, steadying you on the ground after the impact. You let out a soft noise and backed away, flustered. You looked adorable, standing in front of him, barely illuminated except for the light of the torches.

“My Lord,” you greeted him, bowing your head. When you looked back up, he could see how red your eyes were and how puffy your face was. His chest tightened with sympathy for a moment and he had to shove his tongue against the inside of his cheek when he started thinking about how beautiful you still looked.

“My Lady,” he replied. “How are you?”

You smiled briefly at him. Jungkook wanted to crush you to his chest right then and there. He clenched his fingers tightly into fists. “I’m well. How is your arm, my Lord?”

Jungkook paused for a moment, taking the sight of you in silently. “My scratch is doing fine, thanks to you.” You chuckled quietly and he couldn’t help the smile on his face at the sound. “I am in your debt, my Lady.”

You shook your head quickly, lifting your hands up in front of your chest. “No, my Lord, there is no debt to be paid. It was my duty.”

“Still, I did not wish to trouble you—”

“It was no trouble at all, really!” you interrupted. “I was happy to do it, my Lord.”

“Very well, then.” Jungkook’s smile softened. “Goodnight, my Lady. I hope you are able to rest tonight.”

Your small smile fell and your eyes fell downward, toward the grass. “Yes, thank you, my Lord. Goodnight.”

As you walked off without another word, Jungkook kicked himself internally. He hadn’t meant to upset you, but he wished he could comfort you. He knew there was no way to comfort you, it wouldn’t be proper. Especially not when—

No. It was best not to dwell too much on such thoughts. Jungkook sighed heavily and turned back toward his tent, his thoughts torn between you and the strategies he still needed to go over.

YOU

Awoken by shouts and the clinging of armor, you sat up straight in your cot. Too drowsy to really focus on anything that was being said, you hurried to get out of bed and start to get dressed, haphazardly fixing your hair as you did. When you deemed yourself presentable enough, you raised the flap of the tent and squinted at the bright sunlight, heart pounding.

The men were running back and forth, voices loud and barely comprehendible. But you did manage to catch a snippet of what was being said as you walked a little closer, avoiding the soldiers as they frantically ran about.

“The Kingslayer! He’s escaped!”

“Where is Lord Jeon?!”

“How did he escape?”

Mouth falling open in shock, you hurried to find your father and Lord, even if you knew it wasn’t truly your place to intrude on either. Logical thoughts, however, were not your biggest concern at the moment. You found them in Lord Jeon’s tent, slipping inside to the raised voices of everyone inside. They barely noticed you.

“What have you done?” Lord Jeon’s voice growled. You heard him before you saw him, stood almost at the opposite end of the tent, his face twisted with rage. Before him was his mother, her hair pinned back as it usually was. In front of you were the many lords, your father included. You stayed silent, standing behind them and near the entrance, too afraid of drawing attention in the tense atmosphere.

“Jungkook, please,” his mother pleaded, voice gentle. “It was for—“

“I don’t care what it was for!” he interrupted, throwing his arms out in frustration. “What were you thinking? He was our prisoner!”

“I did it to save your father!” she screamed back, desperation filling her voice. “He swore to return him to us! That’s what we’re fighting for—“

“He’s an oathbreaker! Have you lost your mind? Do you know what I had to do to secure his capture?” Lord Jeon stopped for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose between gloved fingers. “Two thousand men lost their lives so we could capture the kingslayer. You had better pray to all the gods that he does not break his word and returns my father safely.” His voice was dangerously low and he turned to face away from his mother, as if he couldn’t stomach to look at her. “All of you, leave.”

You quickly stepped out, keeping yourself at the side of the tent’s entrance before the men could begin to shuffle out. Once they had all exited, you saw his mother being led out of the tent with more than one guard. Biting your lip, you waited a few more moments before gathering the courage to step inside the tent, eyes finding Lord Jeon’s hunched frame over the table.

“My Lord?” you asked hesitantly, lingering by the entrance of the tent.

His head shot up, pleasant surprise etched into his features. He smiled at you kindly and you almost couldn’t believe he had just been yelling at his mother a few moments ago. Lord Jeon said your name softly. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering how you were,” you said.

“That’s very kind of you,” he replied, walking around the table and gesturing at the chairs. You followed suit and sat in the chair beside the one he took, fidgeting with your hands. “We’ll be moving camp today, to Riverrun.”

You nodded your head. “I will be sure to have all of my things ready.” You paused, unsure exactly how to bring the topic up. “I’m sorry that you lost the prisoner, my Lord,” you eventually settled on, voice barely above a whisper.

Lord Jeon looked tense, but he reached out hesitantly and rested his hand over yours. You clenched your hands tighter in your lap so that you wouldn’t do something mad, like hold his hand.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. His hand was hot on top of yours despite the cold weather. “During times of war, we must prepare for losses. Even without the Kingslayer, the North will not bend to the will of the boy-king in the South.”

Silence fell upon the two of you, though you could faintly hear the commotion of the men outside of the tent. The light inside was dim, casting shadows across Lord Jeon’s face as he watched you, his hand still resting atop yours. You could feel your body heating up from his touch, gnawing on your lip as you considered what you should do. You turned your hand under his, clasping his fingers in yours, and looked directly at him, meeting his wide eyes.

You leant forward, eyes darting down to his lips. You knew it wasn’t proper, that you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop yourself even if you had wanted to. All was quiet save for your breaths, steady and deep as you moved closer and closer, fingers tight around his. You could feel his breath on your lips, so close that your noses almost touched, when his other hand came to grasp your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning back and away from you. Your heart thudded in your ears, eyes wide as you watched him move. His hand slipped out of yours and he removed his other from your shoulder. His lips were drawn into a thin line.

“No, I—“ you cut yourself off to take in a shaky breath, standing from the chair and lowering your head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, my Lord, I shouldn’t have presumed—“

Lord Jeon stood as well, stepping closer to you. When you swallowed roughly and took half a step back, he seemed to come to his senses and halted sheepishly. “No, it’s not that,” he interrupted you. He sighed heavily, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m betrothed to a Frey girl,” he finally said, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Oh,” was all you said in return.

Before you could truly process what that meant, your lord continued. “We had to pass through the Twins to get to the Kingslayer’s forces,” he explained. “There had to be negotiations made with Lord Frey. His condition to let us through was for me to marry one of his daughters.”

You finally looked at him, clasping your hands in front of you tightly. “Oh,” you repeated.

“I—“ Lord Jeon stopped himself, gazing back at you almost desperately. He seemed to want to say something, but couldn’t get the words out—or wouldn’t.

You steeled yourself and took in a breath. “Regardless, please forgive me, my Lord. It was not proper nor my place to do such a thing.”

Lord Jeon’s face softened as he looked at you. “There is nothing to forgive, my Lady.”

You bowed your head slightly. “I wish you good fortune with your bride-to-be,” you continued, almost choking on the words. “Please excuse me.” You heard him faintly murmur what you assumed to be a dismissal and you took your leave, walking straight out of the tent and back towards your own without looking back.

Your name was called by a soldier, catching your attention as you finished cleaning the wounds of the young boy in front of you. You turned to meet his gaze, blinking up at him curiously from your crouched position.

“Lord Jeon wants to see you,” the man said, a smirk on his face.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, simply nodding your head and finishing up with the patient you were currently bandaging up. You hadn’t seen or spoken to Lord Jeon in days, too afraid and embarrassed to go looking for him again—not after what he’d told you the last time. Your face felt hot as you recalled the memory, chiding yourself for acting so impulsively and improperly. What had you been thinking, trying to kiss your lord?

You found him in his usual tent, alone. You swallowed nervously as you walked in with your bag of medical supplies. The last time you had been alone with him had been disastrous. He looked up at you with a small smile.

“Hello,” he said easily.

“Hello,” you replied, your voice quiet. You walked over to the chair he was seated at, the map and plans for his next move in front of him on the table. His attention, however, was focused solely on you. “You wanted to see me, my Lord?”

“Yes,” he responded without missing a beat. “I seem to have gotten another scratch.”

“I see.”

He tilted his head to the side, almost playfully. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to treat me, my Lady?”

You ducked your head, biting back a smile. “Of course not, my Lord. Where is the scratch?”

Lord Jeon chuckled, shifting to put his leg out closer to you. When you took a closer look, you could see that there was blood pooling over his knee and his pants were torn higher up along his thigh. You swallowed past the quickly forming lump in your throat, glancing up at him briefly as you crouched down between his legs. The air suddenly tensed, as if there wasn’t enough oxygen to inhale, and you wondered if it was just you who felt like this.

You pulled out a pair of scissors from your bag after you set it beside you, fixing your position so you were comfortably on your knees. You set a hand on his thigh, trying not to think about how firm the muscles felt under your palm. You dragged your fingers along the tear in the fabric, pulling it up so you could cut away from the wound. You had to force your breathing to remain steady as you got to work cleaning the large gash on his thigh.

“We managed to push back the Lannister army,” Lord Jeon said quietly, cutting through the tense atmosphere while you worked. “We took two Lannister boys as well.”

You perked up slightly. “Have you caught the Kingslayer yet?”

He sighed. “No, he was nowhere to be found, the coward. And to think they call him the greatest swordsman alive.”

“He’s no match for you, I’m sure,” you quipped.

Lord Jeon chuckled. “Of course not.”

After another brief silence, you grabbed your thread and needle to stitch his wound, just as you had before. “This will hurt, my Lord.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes playfully and started to stitch, sticking the needle through the skin at the end of the wound. “Who are the Lannister boys you captured?”

“Distant cousins of the Kingslayer,” he said, though his voice was pitched low. “They’re just boys.”

“How old are they?”

“Thirteen and eleven.”

Your eyes widened, but you continued to work on the wound as carefully as you could. “That’s very young.”

“Too young,” Lord Jeon replied.

A few more moments passed as you worked, your eyes never leaving his wound. “Why did you call for me, my Lord?” you finally asked, barely able to gather the courage to do it. “There are many nurses to treat the wounded.”

When he didn’t respond, you worried that you had overstepped, but then his gloved hand came to rest atop your head. You stopped your stitching and looked up at him in surprise, shocked to find his expression a mix between regret and tenderness. His thumb was gently stroking your hair, almost like a subconscious movement. “I trust you.” The hand on your head, even through the glove, felt unbelievably warm on your head and you couldn’t stop the shiver that shot through your spine. “And it wouldn’t do to have the others see their lord wounded.”

You wanted to kiss him.

He was promised to another, meant for another to hold and to love and to kiss. But when his hand lingered on yours for a moment too long to be proper, and when his eyes held yours for a beat too long to be a passing glance, you allowed desire to creep into your veins, to take root inside your heart. Perhaps before you might have been permitted to love him freely. Perhaps he might have even been promised to you instead. But war was no place for the wants and desires of two people, no matter how much they yearned for it to be.

You swallowed, opening your mouth to say something, when Lady Jeon rushed in with a few guards, a paper clutched tightly in her fist. Your head snapped over to look at them, your position provocative from behind the table. Body flushing with heat, you moved away as far as you could without pulling the thread of the needle, and Lord Jeon quickly removed his hand from your head.

“What is it?” he asked after clearing his throat. He beckoned them over to the side of the table the two of you were on. They approached cautiously, but you could see the line of his mother’s shoulders relax when she was close enough to see that you were mending his wound.

“It’s your father,” she told him with a broken voice. “They’ve executed your father.”

There was silence in the tent and you looked up at Lord Jeon’s face, his pain and shock written all over it for everyone to see. He started to move, but you quickly pressed down on his thigh, catching his attention.

“My Lord,” you said. “You mustn’t move. The wound is not properly mended yet.” He looked down at you with stony eyes and you almost flinched away, but you ducked your head and worked to finish stitching his broken skin with your trembling fingers.

“What,” Lord Jeon began with a voice that sounded almost like that of a wolf’s growl, “happened?”

Lady Jeon dropped the parchment on the table in front of her son. You couldn’t see her face for she stood behind you, but you attempted to complete your work as quickly as you could. He picked the parchment up off the table and his eyes took in the words harshly.

“Treason?” Lord Jeon scoffed. “Father? He is no traitor. The new king fancies himself a man, labeling my father a traitor of the Seven Kingdoms and taking his head.” You barely recognized the edge in his voice, unlike you’d ever heard it before. “Guards, escort my mother back to her tent. We arrive in Riverrun tonight.”

“Jungkook, you can’t be serious—“ his mother started, but he silenced her quickly.

“You released my prisoner for the sake of my father’s safety,” he said bluntly. “Now he has been beheaded, his name smeared with the word ‘traitor,’ and the Kingslayer is probably drinking and whoring himself back in King’s Landing. You will be confined to your chambers indefinitely.” His voice dipped low, dangerous, and you had just barely managed to finish your stitching, tying the thread and cutting it with the scissors. “The only reason you’re still breathing for your treasonous acts is because you are my mother.”

Once the guards had escorted Lady Jeon out of the tent and toward her own, you shifted back a bit, your knees aching when you moved them. You opened your mouth to excuse yourself, sure that Lord Jeon would want to be alone, but before you could get to your feet or say a word, his arms had wrapped around you and pulled you in close.

Your face was crushed into the furs of his coat, his hands holding your crouched body as close as he could to his chest. He had pulled you in closer between his thighs, until the two of you were flush against one another. You didn’t know how to react, the needle and scissors still in your hands as you held them still over his thighs.

His fingers carded through your hair. You could feel him rest his head atop yours, breath fanning the strands. “Please stay,” he whispered into your hair. “Don’t go.”

Instead of replying, you released your tools to fall to the ground and wrapped your arms around his midsection, turning your face so that your cheek rested on his torso. He buried his face into your hair, clutching you tighter at your silent compliance. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you could hear his own heart beating at a quick rhythm.

You stayed there, in that same position, for what felt like an eternity. You were just as reluctant to let go of him as he seemed to be of you, the only sounds filling the tent your mingling breaths and the quiet whimpers of a boy who had too heavy of a burden to carry.

Everyone was gathered for the victory feast, meat and fruits littering the tables set across the camp. It wouldn’t be long until the forces reached Riverrun. Night had fallen and you sat idly beside your tense father, eating silently even as the men around you started to debate which king they should pledge to fight alongside against the boy-king in the southern capitol. Your eyes kept flickering up from your plate of food to find Lord Jeon, who was seated at the middle table with his mother and a few other lords.

One of the many lords stood from his table, walking to the middle to continue the debate. “The course of action is clear! We should swear fealty to the Baratheon boy and march our forces South.”

Lord Jeon cut in, still seat at his table but turned to face the rest of the soldiers. “We cannot swear fealty to the Baratheon boy. He is not King.”

“My Lord,” another soldier spoke up. “Do you mean to pledge us to the boy-king? He put your father to death—“

“That doesn’t make the Baratheon king,” Lord Jeon argued. “He is the youngest brother of the late king. Just as my brothers cannot be Lord of Winterfell before me, he cannot be King of the Seven Kingdoms before his older brother.”

Lord Umber stood abruptly, interrupting all of the arguments. “My lords,” he started, walking leisurely until he was in the middle. His stance commanded the attention of everyone. “Here’s what I say to these two kings.” After a brief pause, he spat on the ground, drawing a few chuckles from the soldiers—and yourself included. You didn’t much care for either of these kings, as you would never be going South after this war was won—your place, and everyone else’s here, was in the North.

The lord continued, voice rising as he grew more passionate with every word. “The two of them mean nothing to me. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of war? Of the Wolfswood? Even their gods are wrong!” You found yourself laughing heartily alongside your father and the others, eyes falling on Lord Jeon briefly. There was a small smile on his face and you found your own dwindling at the sight. “Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to. And now the dragons are dead!”

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the now hushed group, and you could see heads nodding as he continued his speech.

Lord Umber drew his sword easily, turning his body and pointing the tip at Lord Jeon. “There sits the only king I mean to bend my knee to.” The camp was completely silent, the only sounds the crackling of the fire. Lord Umber dropped to one knee, digging the very tip of his sword into the grass in front of him and holding the hilt tightly. “The King in the North!”

Your eyes were wide and your breath caught as you watched the scene unfold before you. Lord Jeon’s dark hair was swept handsomely across his forehead and his dark eyes were trained on the kneeling lord in front of him.

Another lord stood, this time from your table, and approached Lord Umber. “I’ll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castle. And their iron chair, too!” He kneeled beside Lord Umber and in front of Lord Jeon, drawing his sword and digging it into the grass. “The King in the North!” he repeated loudly.

Lord Jeon stood from his place, looking down at the two men with something like awe in his expression. You knew you must have mirrored his look, but it was directed at him. As others rose to their feet, your father included, all drawing their swords and lifting them in the air, you looked around in astonishment.

“The King in the North!” they all shouted. “The King in the North!”

And standing amidst his people, all cheering for their new king, Jungkook appeared to you not as a boy taking his father’s role, but as a man worthy of the crown of his people.

Your breath felt labored, the blood rushing in your ears nearly drowning out the calls of everyone around you. You stayed seated, lips parted as the North gained a new king and its independence, its freedom, back. Your eyes couldn’t stray from your king’s form, tall and powerful among the lords rallied around him, and your chest was tight with a feeling you knew all too well and wished not to recognize.

You had been given your own chambers once the Northern forces had reached the Riverrun keep weeks ago. There had been another battle, one that you had witnessed crumbling from the moment King Jungkook’s uncle had gone off on his own instead of listening to the strategy the new king had told him. That argument had not been a pretty one, after all was done and the Lannister forces were forced to flee—he had wanted to trap the Lannister army between them, unable to retreat back to the South, but thanks to the insubordination they had been able to make a full retreat.

Walking down the hall, you made your way down the now familiar route to the king’s chambers. You were always discreet, but with a place this large and servants bustling about at all hours, it had only been a matter of time before rumors began to spread of the two of you.

You opened the door after you knocked, his voice signaling for you to enter. “My King,” you greeted with a small bow of your head. Once you had secured the door shut behind you, the king in the north beckoned you over to where he sat on the edge of the large bed.

“How many times must I remind you to call me Jungkook?” he asked.

“As many as you wish, my King,” you teased. Sitting beside him on the bed, he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you close. “How is it today?” you asked softly, lifting your own arms and embracing him back. You let one hand trail up to his hair, running your fingers through the dark strands.

He sighed into your neck and you had to suppress a shiver. “Better now that you’re here.”

“You really ought to let me give you some milk of the poppy,” you told him gently.

You could feel him shake his head against your shoulder. “The only thing I need to soothe me is to have you here, in my arms.” You didn’t respond, simply playing with his hair. This had become a nightly ritual for the two of you—your king summoned you to his chambers discreetly and you appeared, his request from the first night to just let him hold you until the tremors subsided still ringing true now weeks later. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into your skin. “I know this is unfair of me to ask of you.”

You shook your head, swallowing past the lump in your throat. You didn’t have the right to touch him like you were, to hold him as you were, but you wished for it to never end regardless. You knew that, eventually, you would have to hand him over to his betrothed, to a woman who was a stranger to him and to you; she would be the one wrapped up in his arms, clutching him to her breast and running her fingers through his hair. You selfishly prayed that day would never come.

“You can ask anything of me, Jungkook,” you whispered back, hugging him closer.

Neither of you said another word for the rest of the night, content with listening to the other’s calm breathing and the feel of your bodies pressed together in a sweet embrace. Once it was time, the two of you growing tired, Jungkook pulled away and lifted his hands to cup your face. His fingers brushed back your hair. You blinked blearily up at him, your arms slipping away from his body to rest on your lap.

“Go rest,” he said softly. “I’ve kept you long enough.”

You smiled at him, nodding your head, but he kept his hands on your cheeks. His thumbs trailed back and forth on your skin and he gazed at you for a long time, until your breathing started to deepen and your fingers started to shake. Finally, he released you from his gentle grasp, sitting back and watching as you gathered yourself and left his chambers as quietly as you could, just as he did every night.

The walk back to your own chambers was quiet, the rest of the castle fast asleep or outside on duty. Once you were curled up in your bed, sleep overtook you quickly. As you drifted off to the land of dreams, you thought you could almost still feel your king’s arms circling you.

You woke as early as you usually did, stretching and preparing for the day ahead of you. You knew you wouldn’t see Jungkook again until the night, as he was busy with his advisors and planning his next move against the Lannisters. You found your way to the kitchens, sneaking a few pieces of fruit and bread, dropping them in your bag.

Making your way down to the dungeons, the guard sighed and let you through the door easily; he had long given up arguing with you over it.

Two pairs of blue eyes met yours with excitement as the guard unlocked the cell and let you in. The two young boys smiled up at you easily, excited to see you. It broke your heart, how happy they seemed just to have another person come to them.

“Good morning, boys,” you greeted, digging through your bag. “I brought you some breakfast.” Their small hands took the food gratefully, quickly digging in to eat. Your chest twisted with something painful, watching them. “Did they bring you supper?”

Martyn, the older Lannister boy, shook his head. “No. One of the men said that Lannisters should learn what hunger really feels like.”

You bit your lip, brows furrowing at the bit of information. You stayed silent, watching the two young boys eat ravenously, and your heart ached for them. Once they had finished, you pulled out a cloth from your bag and knelt in front of them. They blinked at you but did not move.

“Martyn, don’t you know how to keep yourself clean?” you chided, though you didn’t mean it. The boy looked sheepish as you cupped one of his cheeks to hold his face still, using the cloth in your other to wipe away the bits of food stuck around his mouth. You wiped away the grime and dirt sticking to his face from the cold, small cell as well before moving on to do the same for Willem, who eagerly let you clean his face—you supposed the eleven year old must have seen you as a surrogate mother figure while he was being held away from his real one. You swallowed roughly at the thought of how worried their mother must be, wondering where her sons were and if they were even alive.

“Will you come back again?” Willem asked innocently, lifting one of his small hands to grab part of your dress.

You smiled at him as best you could, trying not to show them how affected you were. “Of course I will. Who else will take care of you?” All three of you giggled together, the tension easing. “Do either of you have any more scrapes for me to take a look at?” They shook their heads and you quietly let out a breath of relief.

“Is it true, what they say?” Martyn asked you abruptly.

“What do they say?” you questioned back.

“That the King in the North turns into a direwolf at night,” he said innocently. “That he howls at the moon and eats the flesh of his enemies.”

You gnawed on your lip, taking in the sparkling eyes of the young boys. Playfully, you leaned forward and lowered your voice. “It’s true,” you told them. “But only on the full moon. And he only eats the flesh of naughty boys who don’t listen to what they’re told, so you two had better behave yourselves.” They nodded their heads quickly, easily believing the tale.

As you took your leave, hugging each boy goodbye and promising to come see them tomorrow and to bring a bigger breakfast for them, you could hear them murmuring about how the king in the North couldn’t be killed with admiration in their voices. You sighed, the guard giving you a pitying look as you left the dungeon, hoping that the war would be won sooner rather than later. At least the boys didn’t seem to hate Northerners or the Starks, regardless of their family name and position.

As you exited the castle, you saw your father fuming and Jungkook’s mother in front of him. Their voices were loud enough to draw attention and you slipped closer to the crowed of soldiers around them, listening in.

“I’ll have their heads!” your father was shouting. “And if you try and stop me—“

“You will strike me down?” Lady Jeon yelled back, narrowing her eyes at him. Her face was twisted with rage so like the way Jungkook’s had before that you were momentarily reminded of how alike the two really were. “Have you forgotten me, Ser? I am the widow of your liege lord—I am the mother of your king!”

Lady Jeon’s guard unsheathed part of his sword, drawing nearer. “Threatening my Lady is an act of treason—“

Your father interrupted menacingly. “Treason? How can it be treason to kill Lannisters?”

Lady Jeon looked at him firmly. “I understand your grief, my Lord, better than most. The Lannisters will pay for their crimes, I promise you. But for now, in the name of my son—your king—stand down.”

“I will demand their heads from your son,” your father continued, anger still simmering in his expression.

Lady Jeon’s face tightened. “Wise men do not make demands of kings,” she warned.

“Fathers who love their sons do,” he spat back, turning away from her and marching toward the others. Soon, the crowd dispersed, and you quietly slipped away, unwilling to let anyone know that you had been down in the cells. Your heart was pounding harshly against your ribs, pumping dread through your entire body as you set about making your usual rounds to the soldiers to keep them healthy and well.

As you were going back to your chambers to grab a few things and rest a few moments, you were summoned by your father to his own. You quickly made your way there, knocking on the door to his chambers lightly.

“Come in,” he called from the other side of the door.

When you walked in, shutting the door behind you, you took in the dark look on your father’s face. You immediately knew to brace yourself for a lecture. “Yes, Father?” you prompted, clasping your hands in front of you as you waited.

He stood from his chair, watching you coldly. “Do you know what they’re saying about you?”

You swallowed. “What are they saying about me?”

“That you go into the king’s room every night for hours,” he started, almost spitting the words at you. “That my daughter is the king’s whore!”

You had to calm your breathing, trying not to panic at the insinuations. You already knew that they had been spreading rumors about you, but not to this extent. “I haven’t done anything improper with the king,” you mumbled, barely able to string a coherent sentence together; you were lying, of course—being alone with him and letting him hold you close was far from proper, but you hadn’t shared a bed with him.

“Do you think it matters, you stupid girl?” he shouted, drawing closer to you. You had to stop yourself from flinching away. “It doesn’t matter if you have or not! The rumors themselves, that you’re—that you’re spreading your legs for the king, no man will ever come near you!”

“But, Father—“

“Quiet!” he roared, his open palm coming down hard against your cheek. Your head snapped to the side and you cried out, reaching out to hold your stinging skin, looking back up at your father fearfully. “The king is betrothed to a Frey girl,” he continued, towering over you. Your hands started to shake. “He will never marry you. Do not bring dishonor on our family—on our House!”

You nodded your head, staying silent. After a few moments, your father scoffed and turned away from you, walking back toward the table in his room. You straightened your back again, hand still cupping your burning cheek.

“You are dismissed,” he told you coldly.

Without a word, you left his chambers. You kept your head down as you passed people in the halls, dropping your hand to your side and fisting the fabric of your dress in your hands. Once alone in your own room, you hurried to wash your face and press a cloth wet with cold water to your cheek, hoping that it wouldn’t swell.

You slipped down the hall toward Jungkook’s room, as you did every night. He hadn’t called for you yet, but you were impatient to feel his arms around you and feel his breath on your skin. The dread pooling in the pit of your stomach hadn’t subsided, but you pushed it to the back of your mind in favor of seeing your king.

When you passed the main hall, you paused, hearing people talking inside. The door was ajar and you peeked through the crack, seeing your father surrounded by a few other men and Jungkook himself standing before him. The king had a scowl on his face and you couldn’t help but quietly enter the room, watching and listening in even though you knew you shouldn’t. Jungkook’s eyes caught yours and for a brief moment you saw a distressed expression take hold on his face before he schooled it into something harsh and he looked away from you, toward your father.

You didn’t have to say anything, as your eyes were drawn toward the ground, where on a rag lay two bodies, dried blood smearing their throats. You bit back the gasp as bile rose in your throat, eyes wide and trained on the two young Lannister boys’ dead bodies, the familiar color of their golden hair and baby features startling you. You snapped your gaze back up toward your father’s back.

“Is this all of them?” Jungkook asked one of his guards. The man nodded his head. “It took five of you to murder two unarmed boys?”

“Not murder, Your Grace,” your father spat. “Vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” Jungkook repeated incredulously. “These boys did not kill your son. I saw your son die on the battlefield against the Kingslayer.”

“And they were his kin—“

“They were boys!” Jungkook yelled, unable to keep his composure. There was silence and you were sure if a needle dropped to the floor, you would be able to hear it. You wrung your hands, squeezing your fingers repeatedly, trying to keep your breathing steady and even. Your father had really gone through with his threats and killed the two boys. “Look at them,” Jungkook snarled at him.

“Tell your mother to look at them,” he shot back, eyes never wavering from Jungkook’s face. You managed to tear your gaze from the dead bodies, catching sight of a silent and disheveled Lady Jeon seated at the window sill, her eyes unmoving from the Lannister boys. “She killed them as much as I.”

“My mother had nothing to do with this. This was your treason—“

Your father interrupted, provoking the already angry King. You wished he would just stop talking for once, but you were familiar with his combative nature, too hot-headed to ever just shut up. “It’s treason to free your enemies! In war, you kill your enemies—did your father not teach you that, boy?”

There was a heavy silence, everyone’s eyes snapping to your father. Nobody seemed to be comfortable with the insult at Jungkook’s deceased father—he had been a good man, and an even better lord. One of the guards started to draw his sword, but King Jungkook raised his hand in a motion for him to stop.

“Leave him,” he said.

“Aye, leave me,” your father taunted, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Leave me to the king; he wants to give me a scolding before he sets me free. That’s how he deals with treason.” You could see the hateful smirk on your father’s face. Your eyes darted to Jungkook’s, which was set into a scowl. “Our king in the North… Or should I call him the king who lost the North?”

Jungkook’s face didn’t even twitch at the provocation. His eyes remained firmly on your father and when he spoke, his voice was soft—but the words were not. “Escort our lord to the dungeon. Hang the rest.”

After a beat of stunned silence, there was a flurry of movement. The guards began to push at the men to lead them out, and two guards gripped your father’s arms. One of the younger men spoke in a panic, struggling against the guards.

“Please, mercy, Your Grace!” he begged. “I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards!”

Jungkook’s cold eyes cut to the man, not a shred of compassion in his gaze. You shuddered, the look so foreign on his face. “This one was only the watcher,” he started, voice growing harsh. “Hang him last so he can watch the others die.” You watched on with a sense of growing horror as the men were shuffled out of the room and Jungkook turned away, his mother and uncle watching his every move.

“Word of this can’t leave Riverrun,” his uncle said, approaching Jungkook. You stood by the door, too frightened to make a move and draw the attention to yourself. “You can bury them and remain silent. The Lannisters always pay their debts, they keep fucking saying it—”

Jungkook cut his gaze to his uncle, halting him with just his look. “I can’t fight for justice if I don’t serve justice to murderers in my ranks, no matter how Highborn.” His eyes seemed to find yours for only a brief moment. “He has to die.”

The words cut straight through you and it was like your muscles remembered how to move again. Your steps were quick as you made for Jungkook, grabbing his arm and looking at him pleadingly. His own hands automatically raised to grip your elbows, almost steadying you.

“Please, my King,” you rasped. “Please, don’t do this, I beg of you—”

Lady Jeon cut in. “Keep him as a hostage until the war is over,” she argued, approaching the two of you quickly. “They’re Northmen. They won’t forget the killing of their lord, nor will they forgive it.”

“Please,” you whispered, gripping the fabric of his sleeves so hard your fingers started to ache. “Please don’t kill him, please, he’s my father—”

Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours and his brows furrowed. He seemed pained and his hands around your elbows tightened, as if he was going to make to pull you close. “Take her to her room,” he said instead, shoving you away from him. “Make sure she doesn’t come out.”

“No!” you begged, fisting the material of his shirt even tighter, refusing to let go of him even as his uncle grabbed your shoulders from behind to yank you back. “Please don’t do this, Jungkook, please, he’s my father, don’t take him from me like my brother was, please, he’s all I have left—”

Your pleas fell on closed ears, Jungkook turning away from you harshly as you were dragged out of the room, still kicking and screaming and pleading with him to reconsider. You didn’t even feel the hot sting of tears rolling down your cheeks until you were thrown into your chambers and the door locked from the outside.

You rushed at the door, attempting to open it even as you heard the locks click into place, screaming and crying until your voice went hoarse and your throat ached with every wracking breath you took in.

JUNGKOOK

Jungkook watched the men lead the lord over to the stone, the weather just as gloomy and threatening as the atmosphere that surrounded everyone. Many of the lord’s men stood to watch the execution, as well as his own family and other houses.

His hands were bound, his look venomous as Jungkook approached him. “The blood of the First Men flows through my veins as it does yours, boy,” he spat at the young king. “I fought the Mad King for your father,” he continued. “I fought the boy-king for you. We are kin.”

Jungkook’s voice was even as he spoke, though he could feel the weight of the sword at his hip like it wished to drag him to his knees. “That didn’t stop you from betraying me. And it won’t save you now.”

“I don’t want it to save me,” the lord scoffed, a mean smirk playing on his lips. “I want it to haunt you for the rest of your days.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed at the older man. “Kneel, my Lord.”

The man did so after a long look at his king. He dropped his knees to the ground and bent his body over the stone until his head was past the edge. Jungkook drew his sword, willing his hands to stop shaking and that nobody would notice it; he set the tip on the ground and held the hilt with both hands as he started to speak.

“Lord of Karhold, here in sight of men and gods, I sentence you to die.” Jungkook looked down pitifully at the older man. “Would you speak a final word?”

The man slowly turned his head to glance up at Jungkook, his features contorted with rage. “Kill me and be cursed,” he said. “You are no king of mine.”

Before he had even fully turned his head back down, Jungkook drew his sword up in front of him. With a harsh, swift movement he swung the sword down and the metal sliced into the lord’s neck until it went cleanly through. The head fell to the ground with a thud and blood dripped down the metal of his sword beside it. His eyes tore away from the sight and he was breathing heavily as he turned away, the silence of everyone around him deafening.

Jungkook walked away from the scene, sword clasped tightly in his fist and trailing blood behind him.

It didn’t take long for his mother and uncle to find him in his chambers, sitting at his table with a look of concentration on his face. His sword was nowhere to be found, as he’d given it to a squire to clean.

Before they could say a word, Jungkook spoke up without looking at them. “Are there guards posted by ____’s room?”

“Yes,” his uncle replied.

Jungkook sighed. His mother stepped closer to him, but stayed on the other side of the table. “His men won’t forget this,” she warned. “The second they seize her, they’ll abandon you and march back North.”

He sighed again. “I know.” Staring daggers into the wood, he repeated the words. “I know.”

“How will you manage to keep her as a political hostage?” his uncle said. “They might abandon us even without her. I don’t think those stubborn soldiers will willingly ride into battle for us regardless of if their lord’s daughter is locked up in a room somewhere or not.”

Jungkook had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Bile rose in his throat and he knew what his mother was going to say the second he met her eyes.

“You’ll have a choice,” she said gently, kindly. “You can let her go with her father’s forces back to the North, and marry the Frey girl for more men from Lord Frey.”

“There’s no guarantee that he would send them in time,” Jungkook groaned, dropping his chin to rest on his palm. “Lord Frey is notorious for sending his men at the end of wars.”

His mother reached a hand over to settle it on his shoulder. He wished, for a brief moment, that he was young enough again to be able to hide in her skirts and be comforted by her. But he wasn’t. And the burden he carried now would forever rest on his shoulders.

“You can marry her,” she said. Jungkook glanced up, catching sight of his startled uncle staring at his sister as if she were mad. “It would bind our families together and as the only remaining heir to their House, you would be in command of their men until she had a son. They would have to stay.”

“If you do that,” his uncle started. “The Freys will never forgive you. Lord Frey is not a man to be crossed.”

“You are both right,” Jungkook mumbled. “But I will not force her to marry me. And I’ve already given my word to Lord Frey.”

His mother pursed her lips. “You won’t be forcing her. We need only speak to her mother. And they won’t refuse you—their House will care more for having a daughter as Queen in the North. I need only your agreement, Jungkook.”

Jungkook dragged a hand over his face. There was no way he could put his trust in Frey to send men in time for the next battle. That wretch of a man would rather see them all dead than send his aid, even if his daughter became Jungkook’s wife; his children were too many to count on his favor for any of them.

“I’ll do it,” he strained. “Send a raven.”

YOU

It had been days since the execution of your father. You were not allowed to leave your chambers, maids leaving your meals for you before leaving and locking the door. There were always at least three guards posted right outside of your room—and if you had somehow managed to get past them, there would be many more of Jungkook’s men that you would encounter.

The door to your chambers opened suddenly and you flinched, straining to see from your spot on the windowsill. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of your mother, the door shutting quietly after she was let inside. You stood from the window and rushed over to her, wrapping your arms around her tightly. She embraced you just as tightly, her hand stroking your back comfortingly as you started to cry like you had as a child.

“Are we leaving?” you finally whimpered, sniffling. “Are we going back home?”

Your mother’s silence concerned you. Your heart started to beat faster and you tightened your grip on her, waiting. “We’re not going home, my sweet child.”

You pulled back, hating the pitying look on her face. “What do you mean? Why not? They—“ You swallowed, eyes turning down toward your feet. “He killed Father.”

“He did,” she replied. Her hands pulled away from your back and she brushed your hair from your face, wiping your tears gently. “But you’re going to marry him.”

Her words were like ice piercing straight through your abdomen. “What?” you whispered. “No, you can’t be—you can’t be serious!” Your voice started to strain and you backed away from her, shaking your head. “You can’t make me!”

She sighed, clicking her tongue as if you’d just refused to sit with the maesters. “Think about what you’re saying,” she chided. She walked to your bed and sat at the edge. “Your father and brother are dead. You’re the heir to Karhold. Who will take care of us?” she asked. “Neither of us will be able to take care of ourselves. You’ll have to marry anyway.”

“But surely not him,” you sputtered. “He’s promised to a Frey girl! He can’t marry me!”

Your mother stopped your arguments with one harsh look. “Think. The King in the North has already sought out your hand. Do you think any other man, Highborn or not, will dare ask for your hand now?” You bit your lip, unable to say anything back. “If you don’t marry him, you’ll bring ruin to our Great House.” She sighed, standing again. “I’ve already approved the match. After all this, you’ll be Queen in the North. Our family will rise to an equal level with House Stark.”

You blinked back your tears, letting your mother take your limp hands in her own and squeeze them. “How can I marry my father’s murderer?” you whispered, staring at her fingers wrapped around yours.

She frowned. “We all do the things we must, in any situation. He will not be the man who killed your father after this. He will be your king and your husband.” You sniffled and she made a displeased noise. “Your children will be princes and princesses. Soon, you will forget all about your worries and be free, my dear.”

You tried to give your mother a smile, swallowing all of the pain stirring in your chest. “You’re right. I’m being silly.”

She smiled, now, and wrapped you up in another hug. “I want you to be happy,” she said quietly in your ear.

“I will be,” you answered her, though you didn’t believe it yourself.

The ceremony would be soon, you knew. You hadn’t seen your newly betrothed nor anyone else, for that matter, besides the servants who brought your meals. You knew they must have been afraid that you would run away if given too much freedom, even if you had agreed to the marriage. You spent your days and nights doing nothing but think and remember the last conversation you’d had with your father. You blinked and wiped away your tears, not wanting to ruin the makeup they had spent so long on.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on your door—you had to hold back a chuckle at the notion. It was locked and the person outside would need to unlock it themselves, so there really wasn’t a point in knocking.

Your mother walked in, smiling widely as she saw you. “My sweet child,” she breathed. “You look beautiful.”

You hoped your own smile didn’t look too much like a grimace. “Thank you.”

She rushed over, helping you stand and fixing a few of the wrinkles she could see in your gown. “Here,” she said, gesturing for you to turn around. “Let me put the cloak around you.” You faced away from your mother to let her put the thin fabric with your House colors on your shoulders, covering much of your frame.

You turned toward the door just in time to see a man you didn’t recognize walk into your chambers. “Who is this?” you asked.

“A distant relative,” your mother answered easily. Her face soured for a moment before it fixed back to her normal smile, though you could tell she was forcing it. “Since your father and brother both won’t be able to walk with you.”

You swallowed past the growing lump in your throat. “Right.” Your mother left before you, hurrying to the courtyard where the ceremony and feast would be held. You took in a shaky breath and approached the handsome man.

“You look beautiful,” he said kindly as he offered you his arm. “My name is Eunwoo.”

“Thank you, Ser,” you mumbled, taking his arm hesitantly and allowing him to lead you from the room toward the feast. You could hear a soft melody the closer you got.

“Oh, please,” he laughed. “I’m no knight. Just call me Eunwoo.”

You somehow managed to shoot him a strained smile, fingers subconsciously tightening on his arm the closer you got to the feast. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Silently, he helped you drape your veil over your face.

The two of you exited the castle and a hush fell across the guests. There were candles and torches lit, placed strategically to give off an intimate atmosphere under the darkness of the night sky. Through the veil, you could vaguely make out the shape of Jungkook standing at the end by the Septon.

You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you repeated to yourself like a mantra.

Once you were close enough, Eunwoo released you and you took a deep breath. You could tell that the ceremony was being held in the Godswood, the different faiths combining for your wedding. You supposed it was to appease all the gods, since the two of you were from Northern families who still worshipped the old gods.

Jungkook’s uncle stood beside him—at least, you assumed it was his uncle. You weren’t sure until you heard his voice.

“Who comes before the old gods this night?” he asked. With all the ceremonies you’d been to, his voice reciting the words sounded awkward; it couldn’t be helped, you supposed, since Jungkook’s uncle was from Riverrun and not the North.

Eunwoo spoke on your behalf, saying your name and House. “She comes here to be wed. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods,” he finished with. His voice was confident as he said the words. “Who comes to claim her?”

You swallowed as Jungkook stepped forward. “Jeon Jungkook, of House Stark. Heir to Winterfell and King in the North. Who gives her?”

“Cha Eunwoo of House Poole,” your distant relative answered. “A cousin to her mother.”

Jungkook’s uncle spoke again, directing his question to you. “Do you take this man?”

There was a long silence as they all waited for you. I could go now, you thought to yourself, heart pounding harshly. If I beg the Septon, he’d help me, surely. I could go.

“I take this man,” you murmured, stepping forward toward Jungkook. Everyone seemed to release a breath of relief when you finally answered, the tension that was starting to build up easing. Jungkook’s uncle and Eunwoo left the two of you.

You could vaguely make out their figures moving to the side, presumably to find a place to stand on the proper sides of the guests. You walked forward the rest of the way to Jungkook on shaky feet. Once you stood beside him, you faced him and he pivoted to face you as well. His hands gripped the hem of the veil and he lifted it from your face, letting it fall over your shoulders. Your eyes met his for a long moment and your chest felt tight with something bittersweet; this had been the sight that you yearned for, a mere few weeks ago. Now seeing him illuminated by the fires and moonlight, standing before you and a Septon, you were overcome with the urge to cry—for your grief and for your love, which hadn’t disappeared as you thought it would.

The Septon’s voice broke the spell the two of you had suddenly been put under and you darted your gaze over to him. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Jungkook nodded and shrugged the dark cloak off of his shoulders. He circled you until he stood behind you and he gently lay the cloak over your shoulders, making sure it was completely in place before he pulled his hands back. You found yourself wishing that he would keep his hands against your skin and you hated yourself for it.

When he came back to stand at your side, the two of you faced the Septon. Jungkook stretched his arm out with his palm facing the ground and you followed suit, resting your hand on top of his. A shiver ran up your arm and you almost couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight.

“In the sight of the Seven,” the Septon started, voice echoing through the silent grounds. He dropped a strip of fabric on your hands and began to wrap them together, looping the thin white cloth around three times as he continued. “I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words.”

You swallowed roughly and turned to face Jungkook, who did the same and faced you. Your hands remained together between the two of you. Like this, you almost felt too close to him. You could hardly breathe, especially when his dark eyes were so tender in that moment, the features that had looked so cold the last time you saw him now appeared soft and gentle.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” the two of you recited together. “Mother, Maiden, Crone.” You licked your lips. “Stranger.”

“I am hers, and she is mine,” Jungkook said softly.

“I am his, and he is mine,” you echoed at the same time.

The two of you finished the last of the vows quickly. “From this day until the end of my days.”

There was a long pause, everything quiet but the sound of your breathing and the crackling of the fire. You glanced at the Septon, who gave the two of you a small nod with a smile. Jungkook’s hand turned upwards and he held yours in his gently. Leaning forward, he raised his other hand and his fingers grazed your cheek. He cupped your face and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. Jungkook’s mouth remained on yours for a few seconds and a tingling sensation started on your lips, spreading to the rest of your body as if the gods themselves had reached forward and given you a drop of nectar.

When he pulled back, you opened your eyes and an applause started from the guests—almost all of which were soldiers. You took in a shaky breath and tried to smile, eyes scanning the crowd of suddenly noisy people for your mother. You met Lady Jeon’s eyes instead and her smile was so warm as she gazed at the two of you, hands clutched together tightly, that it almost brought a wave of fresh tears to your eyes.

You squeezed Jungkook’s hand, wanting to feel his skin on yours desperately and hating yourself for it.

Jungkook walked over to the largest table with you at his side, hands still clasped together. Everyone’s voices started at once, the crowds starting to gather from the food that had been prepared, digging in immediately. As the two of you sat down, Jungkook released your hand. You put them in your lap, staring at the food in front of you blankly, the mix of emotions swirling inside your stomach distracting you from wanting to eat anything. When you peeked over at Jungkook, he was eating slowly, talking with the people who came up to the table lightly.

It didn’t take long before the guests grew rowdy, their voices growing loud and chanting something that you didn’t want to hear.

“Bed them! Bed them! Bed them!”

You glanced over at Jungkook with wide eyes. The corners of his lips were twitched down into a small frown, but he clenched his jaw and forced a smile onto his face.

“Perhaps we should skip the bedding ceremony,” he said.

There was a round of boo’s from the guests and soldiers.

“Your Grace!” someone shouted from the crowd. “It’s only right to bed the new lovers!”

He sighed as everyone started to laugh and cheer, already getting up from their seats. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled. He got up, the few women in attendance hurrying up to the two of you.

A group of the soldiers followed suit, all of them rushing the two of you out of your seats and shoving you toward the hall again. The women giggled as they pulled at Jungkook, undoing his buttons and strings. Your breathing quickened as the soldiers lifted you in the air, hands gripping you tightly so you didn’t fall. They led forward first, tugging at your cloak and dropping it in the warm hall as they rushed you toward the king’s bedroom.

“Watch your hands!” Jungkook shouted from behind. The men looked sheepish and stopped their insistent gripping at your gown, thankfully leaving you with your dress on. They pushed open the door and carried you to the bed, dropping you unceremoniously onto it. The women dragging Jungkook inside weren’t far behind, and you swallowed as you saw his disshelved state—his shirt was pulled open to reveal most of his chest, and his pants already half undone.

They pushed Jungkook beside you and he let out a small noise as he fell next to you, hand catching on yours for a brief moment. The two of you looked up at the men and women still laughing, their smiles wide and naughty.

“Have fun,” one of the soldiers said, winking as he ushered the others out. “Don’t be too rough, now! One should always be gentle with a lady on the first night!” he called loudly before they left the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

And then you and Jungkook were alone in his chambers, only the dim candlelight illuminating your forms.

You stood from the bed, pulling at the sleeves of your dress nervously. Jungkook stayed seated on the bed, watching you silently. It only served to unnerve you more. You heard him shift behind you, but you refused to turn and look at him.

“If you don’t want to—” he started.

“It’s fine,” you said tightly. “We have to.”

More silence. You continued to fiddle with your sleeves, unsure of what to do. There was a soft sigh behind you and more rustling. You didn’t hear Jungkook come up behind you until you felt his hands on your arms, gripping them gently. You couldn’t stop the flinch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop,” you said, just as quietly.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Jungkook continued. “If things had been different—”

“I said stop!” you shouted, whirling around to face him. Jungkook dropped his hands from your arms. You hit his chest with one of your fists, not hard enough to truly hurt him but hard enough for him to feel the weight of it. He said nothing, eyes falling shut as the room smothered the two of you in silence.

Tears were starting to fall down your cheeks and your chest was heaving with soft sobs. “You killed him,” you whispered, voice thick. Jungkook remained silent. You hit him again, with both fists, and kept hitting him, moving his body backwards with each strike. “You killed him and you didn’t let me see him!” Your voice cracked as you screamed the words at him, your punches to his chest landing more frantically in your hysteria. “You didn’t let me, you didn’t let me, you didn’t let me—”

Jungkook’s fingers wrapped around your wrists tight and he pulled you flush against his chest, halting your assault. You were crying loudly, now, thrashing and twisting in his grip in an attempt to dislodge his hands. He didn’t let go, instead shaking you back and forth.

“Of course I didn’t!” he shouted, his own voice hoarse and his eyes glassy. You fought to get away from him, not wanting to hear his voice, the same voice that had whispered such sweet words in your ear only weeks before. “You would never have forgotten it, if you had seen. I was trying to protect you!” He shook you again and you let yourself finally look at him, let yourself see the desperation in his eyes. “Don’t you understand?” he asked. “Don’t you understand that I was trying to protect you?”

You went limp in his grasp, sobbing violently. Jungkook released your wrists and caught you in his arms instead, wrapping you up in his embrace as he held you close. You rested your head on his chest and let him hold you as you cried, grief washing over your body like the winter winds. His hands stroked your back comfortingly, his face burying itself in your hair. You could feel his heartbeat as you wept against his chest, fast and unsteady just as yours beat.

Looking up at him with teary eyes, you took in a shaky breath. “Comfort me,” you whimpered, leaning forward. “Please.”

Without another word, Jungkook pressed his mouth to yours harshly. He kissed you almost violently, hands gripping your body tight enough to leave bruises as he led you back toward the bed. The back of your legs hit the edge and you sat down, his lips following after you while you crawled up onto the middle. Jungkook crawled up toward you, lips finding the skin of your neck and trailing chaste kisses up and down it before pressing his tongue to the flesh.

You arched your back and spread your legs, allowing his hips to nestle comfortably against yours, the hard bulge in his pants pressing against you deliciously. He bit down on your shoulder as his hands hurriedly lifted the skirts of your dress, fingers trailing on your skin light enough to ignite a sense of urgency in your nerves. You rocked your hips up into his, chuckling breathlessly at the groan you received from him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, beginning to pull his head away from you so that he could look at you.

Your mouth dried and you didn’t want his eyes on yours. With your hands, you gripped his hair and lightly pushed his head back down toward your neck, swallowing roughly. “Make me forget, Jungkook,” you told him. “Please.”

There was a pause and the tension between you was harsh, almost suffocating you as you waited, throbbing, underneath him. Then Jungkook moved and you let a relieved sigh escape your lips as he slightly lifted his head to kiss you. His eyes were closed and his mouth was rough, just as you wanted it.

His hands continued to shove your dress up until you could feel the breeze of the cool room against your bare skin. He barely glanced down to look at you as his hand found your undergarments, fingers caressing your most sensitive spot. You gasped softly, pulling away from his hungry kisses as he rubbed his fingers against you, the added friction of your underwear making you shudder.

“Do you want it?” he asked roughly, looking down at you.

You couldn’t meet his eyes and turned your head to the side, thighs opening wider to give him more room. “Yes,” you whispered.

“How badly do you want me?” Jungkook pressed, rubbing against your clit harder.

“So badly,” you breathed, a moan escaping. “I want you so bad, please—”

Jungkook nearly tore your undergarments off, yanking them roughly down your legs until you could kick them off, roughly maneuvering you as he did so, which you didn’t mind. He continued with your dress, actually ripping the seams on the back after he pulled you up a bit to get it off. You helped him as quickly as you could, pulling your arms out of it and then kicking the heavy thing off and tossing it to the floor.

Pausing to just look at you, splayed out beneath him, Jungkook gave you a strained yet soft smile. You didn’t want to see it. Instead, you grabbed at the hem of his own shirt and started tugging, wanting him to take it off. He snapped out of whatever it was he was thinking and helped you, undressing himself quickly until the two of you were bare before each other.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail down his body, taking in every inch of his beautiful form. Your gaze stopped at his cock, erect and red—it was larger than you’d thought. Would it even be able to fit inside of you? You paled for a second as you stared shamelessly at it.

Jungkook chuckled, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to your head. You looked up at him in slight alarm. “Don’t worry,” he reassured you. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Are you sure it’ll fit?” you asked in a small voice, unable to stop yourself.

With a choking cough, Jungkook looked away from you and bit his lip hard. When he turned back to you, his eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated and covering almost his entire irises. “Yes, it’ll fit,” he said gruffly. “I’ll prepare you first.”

“What do you mean, ‘prepare’ me—” You cut yourself off with a hitched gasp as one of his fingers slipped inside of you slowly. You clenched your fists and flopped back all the way onto the large bed, your cheeks and neck hot.

Jungkook leaned over you as he worked his finger inside of you, curling it and seemingly looking for something. When you peeked up at him, you could see that his eyes were focused completely on his movements between your thighs.

“I’ll prepare you with my fingers, first,” he said in a dark voice, another finger starting to slowly push inside of you. You groaned gutturally, screwing your eyes shut. “You’re already very wet, so it shouldn’t hurt when I replace my fingers with my cock.”

Your eyes were wide at his crude words and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at how he was looking at you—or, well, a part of you. The pleasure from his fingers was starting to take you over completely, the pressure from the second digit starting to disappear.

His thumb pressed against your clit and you moaned unbidden, the sound nearly tearing itself out of your throat. You quickly covered your face with your hands, not wanting him to see whatever faces you were making as he worked on pleasuring and preparing you.

“No one’s ever touched you like this?” Jungkook asked, his voice breathy and pleasant. You shook your head, pushing it back into the pillow as your back arched and your hips rocked up toward his fingers. “Gods, you’re beautiful. I could spend all day like this, watching you come undone on my fingers.”

“Please,” you begged, not sure what you were even asking for. “Please, Jungkook—”

“You want to come?” he asked. You nodded your head. “Answer me when I ask you a question.”

With a whimper, you moved your hands down your face and rested them on your chest. “Yes, please Jungkook, I want to come—”

“Then come,” he said easily. His fingers worked you harder, his thumb pressing against your clit deliciously and your mouth fell open as the ecstasy ran through your abdomen and through your entire body. You came around his fingers, clenching them erratically and rolling your hips up into his palm.

When the feeling had passed and you relaxed your tensed limbs, Jungkook’s fingers moved inside of you. You winced and wriggled, but he shushed you and moved his thumb away from your clit. You felt a third finger press against your folds and then he slipped it inside, all the way to the knuckle, along with the two still inside you.

“Jungkook—”

“You’ll need more than two fingers to be able to take my cock,” he told you gently, but when you glanced at his eyes you could see them flickering with something like delight. His fingers moved inside you slowly until you were moaning again, the slight pain turning to pleasure again. Jungkook groaned and his voice was unsteady when he spoke. “You’re so tight and wet, and all for me.”

You whimpered at his words, clenching around his fingers. “I’m ready, please, Jungkook, I want you—”

“Fuck,” he grunted, pulling his fingers out of you abruptly. You were left clenching around nothing and feeling strangely empty, but it didn’t last long. You peered down and saw Jungkook using the hand that was pleasuring you wrapped around himself and he was pumping his cock with it, letting out quiet hisses of bliss at the friction. He guided himself toward you and the head of his cock rubbed against your folds, gathering your slick.

You swallowed nervously and couldn’t help but tense up your body.

Jungkook noticed and used his other hand to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Are you ready?” he asked seriously. You couldn’t move away from him thanks to the hand on your jaw, but you knew he would pull away from you if you asked in that moment. You knew he was asking you are you sure you want this and not are you ready for me because you knew him.

“Yes,” you whispered, holding his gaze confidently.

Jungkook released your jaw and then pushed his cock inside of you slowly, eyes never leaving your face. Every time you tensed your body more or bit your lip, he stopped and waited for you to relax. It took a few moments, but eventually he was buried completely inside of you.

You were already sweating, your body feeling completely damp. Jungkook was right above you, his own hair damp and his breath heavy on your face. He held himself up and off of you, only touching you where his cock was sheathed in you, his hips against yours, and his thighs brushing yours. You let your hands press against his chest, dragging your hands up and down slowly. You were clenching tightly around his cock, still unable to relax completely. It felt more like an intrusion than anything you would willingly partake in, but you were sure the pain would ebb into pleasure soon.

Jungkook shuddered above you and you watched him curiously as you let your fingers caress his collarbones and up his neck to his jaw. His eyes fluttered shut and you could see him swallow. You raked your nails lightly down his neck and chest, letting your hands grip his sides. He shifted and then you felt him brush against something inside of you that made you arch your back and nearly cry out from the ecstasy that shot through your limbs.

“There?” he asked breathlessly. He pressed in even deeper, holding himself still against that spot inside of you and your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to get him in even deeper. Your arms moved of their own accord, going around his back and nails digging into his skin. “Does that feel good?” he teased.

You let out a puff of air and nodded your head, pulling him down against you completely. He nipped at the skin of your shoulder as you buried your head against his neck and pressed a chaste kiss to his warm skin. “Yes,” you answered shakily. “You can move now.”

With a shaky exhale, Jungkook shifted and then pulled his cock out slowly. You made a strangled noise, the sensation strange and foreign. Then he pushed back in slowly, starting a gentle pace in and out as you adjusted to the new feelings between your thighs. You were throbbing and he let you hold him as tightly as you desired, his chest brushing your breasts lightly. His hand ran down the side of your body and he slipped it between your bodies, fingers finding your clit easily and rubbing circles against it.

“Faster,” you breathed, arching your back and throwing your head back against the pillow. Jungkook groaned and didn’t quicken his pace, simply looking down at you curiously.

“I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Please,” you whispered, shutting your eyes and clinging to him tighter. “Harder.” You didn’t dare open your eyes and look at him, simply letting yourself lose your senses in the movements of his cock and hands.

He complied with your request, pulling back from your body and then slamming into you roughly, making you cry out in surprise. It was as if he became a beast, his hands grabbing hold of your hips and yanking you toward him as he sat back on the bed, thrusting his cock in and out of you harshly. Your hands slipped off of his shoulders and you fisted them in the sheets of the bed, moaning unabashedly at how blissful it felt.

The pain strangely offered you a newer sensation, mixing with pleasure deliciously. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t want him to stop. No, you wanted more.

Clenching around his cock, you moved your hands back up to his forearms for purchase as he pistoned in and out of you relentlessly. His quiet grunts as he rocked his hips into yours only fueled your pleasure, the ecstasy spreading from where you were joined to your abdomen once again. You took in a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut as you came undone a second time, this time around his cock.

As the pleasure ebbed away, you winced at Jungkook’s continued movements. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly, still thrusting into you harshly. You grabbed one of his hands and swallowed, moving it away from your hip. You pulled yourself backwards, off of his still hard and leaking cock, and he bit his lip as he watched you.

When he started to shift away from you, you squeezed his hand to stop him. Jungkook watched you curiously, unsure of what you wanted from him. You yanked on his hand to bring him forward and he took the hint, letting you maneuver him until he was seated against the headboard of the bed. You licked your lips and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth while you straddled his lip, positioning yourself above his no doubt aching cock.

You slowly sat down, using one hand to guide him in properly. With a hiss, you felt the head of his cock push past your folds and into you. Somehow, he felt much bigger in this position. You could barely make out his expression as you were too focused on fitting him in completely, but you could tell he was holding himself back from making any movements while waiting for you.

Once you were fully seated on his cock and your slick was dripping onto his thighs, you fluttered your eyes open and met his hungry gaze immediately. Jungkook let his palms rest on your thighs, where he slowly trailed them up to your hips, his fingers caressing you tenderly.

“You’re so big,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck while you adjusted to the stretch once again.

Jungkook groaned and pulled you closer, both of you moaning when you rolled your hips and clenched around him. “You don’t know how dangerous you are,” he breathed, letting his forehead rest against yours and his eyes shut. “It’s taking every bit of self-control that I possess not to fuck you until you’re crying.”

You couldn’t help but smile shyly at him, even though he couldn’t see it. “Why don’t you, then?” you said teasingly.

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open and he peered at you darkly. “It would be wise to keep your mouth shut before I find another use for it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words, but then he thrust upwards and your giggles turned into gasps for air and quiet moans. One of his hands found its way to your clit again, rubbing the throbbing area until you were almost wildly bucking into his hand, clenching erratically around his cock. His other hand trailed up from your hip to your hair at the base of your neck, gripping it tightly in his fist and yanking your head back to bare your neck.

“I think you need a lesson,” he growled against your skin, biting down hard on your throat while he fucked up into you. Your fingers found their way to his hair and and you fisted the strands sporadically while you moved along with him, feeling as if every nerve in your body was screaming, drowning you in a pleasure you’d never known before.

It didn’t take long for you to orgasm again, your hips stuttering as he rolled his own upwards, his cock dragging against your clenching walls heavily, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders for support. His fingers didn’t stop moving against your clit, his cock still shoving into you roughly, and it all helped you drag out your pleasure until tears were spilling from your eyes, all of your feelings crashing into you at once along with the pleasure.

You held Jungkook to you tightly as he chased his own release, breathing heavily while he left a trail of sloppy kisses against your shoulder and neck. It took only a few more strokes until he was coming, tugging on your hair and pulling you close, his fingers moving from your clit to wrap around your back and hold you to him while he emptied his seed inside of you. You shuddered at the warmth filling you, squeezing tightly around him to try to prolong his pleasure.

When it was all over, the two of you sat there, holding each other close, the tears in your eyes freely flowing down your cheeks. You had no doubt that Jungkook knew you were crying, but he said nothing. He released his grip on your hair and let his hand drag down your back gently, still hugging you close to him. You could feel his come start to drip out of you, his cock softening inside you until it started to slip out as well.

Jungkook didn’t make a move to shift the two of you, allowing you to take a moment that you so desperately needed. You used one hand to rub at your eyes and cheeks, wiping the tears away, and you shakily exhaled as you pulled away from him. His arms relaxed around you so that you could pull back, and you met his dark eyes. Looking away from him, you shifted your hips up so that his cock slipped out of you, grimacing at the dripping release that followed it.

Neither of you spoke as he helped you clean yourself up and then the two of you prepared for bed. Once you were both comfortably laying underneath the furs, Jungkook turned to look at you beside him. You turned your own head toward him, watching him silently and waiting.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, almost whispering. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You allowed yourself a brief smile as Jungkook reached over and gently caressed the side of your face with his fingertips. “No,” you whispered back, trying to ignore the swell of the ache in your chest. “You didn’t hurt me.”

The morning had been stiff and odd, soreness settling into your limbs and making you wince with each movement. Jungkook had risen the same time as you, both of you muttering quietly as you spoke briefly—neither of you were used to waking beside another.

Jungkook had left a mere moments ago when there was a knock at the door. You were still seated by the mirror in the room, head turning to call for whoever it was to enter. When the door opened, you saw your mother’s bright face peeking in and you smiled. At the sight of you alone, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her, walking over to you with something clasped in her hands.

“How was it, my sweet child?” she asked, a smirk on her face. Your cheeks felt hot and you were violently aware of the marks littered on your neck and down your chest. The servants had not been in yet, but you knew your mother could clearly see what she was looking for on the sheets, barely covered by the furs.

“Mother,” you chided, voice muffled with embarrassment. “That’s not proper—”

“Oh, please,” she waved off, coming closer to you and putting a hand on your shoulder. “Men will be men. As your mother, I want to know that my daughter is being taken care of.”

You sighed aggressively, rolling your eyes. “It was fine.” At her raised eyebrows, you curled in on yourself a bit. “He was just fine. I didn’t know I could feel like that,” you muttered, almost under your breath.

She chuckled and nodded her head. “Good. Now, here, drink this,” she continued, holding out a small vial to you with a liquid you didn’t recognize inside. At your questioning look, she finished speaking. “It’s to help with fertility. You need to cement this union with a child soon.”

You pursed your lips but took the vial from her nonetheless. Going down your throat, the liquid was bitter, but you held back the cough as you handed it back to her. She smiled sweetly at you and patted your shoulder.

“I will be with you a while longer,” she said. “There is nothing much for me to return home to, as things are.”

The ache that had dulled in your chest grew sharp at her words. You couldn’t speak even as she left the room, and you fidgeted with your fingers where you sat. Tears sprung to your eyes and you sat where you were, crying as quietly as you could manage. Even as the maids came in and inspected the sheets before removing them, replacing them with new ones, you sat and wept for all that you had lost—you were not sure that what you had gained could ever overshadow the grief.

You stretched your arms and back, letting out a satisfied groan when you felt the crack in your stiff muscles. Jungkook had gone out to speak with the soldiers and heads of the Houses, and you had just finished up your breakfast when your mother came into your room, precisely at the time she did every morning these days.

“Again?” you huffed.

Your mother clucked her tongue at you as she held out the same vial to you, which you took with a grumble about the taste every morning. “You know it’s important for you to produce an heir, my darling. Once you are with child, there won’t be a need for these visits.”

You rolled your eyes but drank the bitter liquid anyway, crinkling your nose as you swallowed it down in one go. “It’s been weeks, Mother, surely it’s helped as much as it could with fertility by now. We wouldn’t know, anyway, if I were with child already.”

She didn’t say anything, instead sitting across from you and helping herself to some of your almost finished breakfast. You let her, setting the vial down on the table and sighing. With her mouth full, your mother started to speak. “And how is our king? Can I assume he’s still as enthusiastic as he was on your wedding night?”

Your neck felt warm and you huffed loudly, crossing your arms. “Mother! How can you ask me that so easily?”

She smiled at you wickedly. “Everyone can hear you two, you know. It’s a little unnerving hearing the servants and a few others talking about your daughter’s activities with her husband, but thank the gods I’m staying nowhere near this room—”

“Okay, okay, enough!” you yelped, shaking your hands out to get her to stop. She laughed heartily, but you couldn’t stop the embarrassment that filled your gut. Though you knew by now that if Jungkook knew about this, he’d be thrilled—he did often whisper huskily in your ear to be louder, to let everyone know how good he was making you feel.

There was a knock on the door to your shared quarters and a guard poked his head in after you called out for whoever it was to enter. You stood from your chair, your mother quickly doing the same.

“My Queen,” he said gruffly. “Your presence has been requested by the King. You are to come at once.”

You nodded your head, letting the smile slip from your lips and a more serious expression settling in place. “Take me to him,” you told the guard. He nodded, opening the door fully and waiting for you. Turning to your mother, you found her already looking at you. “I’ll come visit you soon,” you said softly. She nodded her head and took the empty vial with her before she left ahead of you, walking down the hall. You walked out of your room and the guard shut it behind you before he escorted you to the main hall that was used to welcome in guests.

When you entered, you saw Jungkook seated on one side of the large table, two men seated across from him. Your husband looked at you warmly and quietly motioned for you to take a seat beside him, which you did with ease. He reached over and gripped your hand under the table, intertwining your fingers with his. You tried to keep the small smile off of your lips, but you knew you weren’t too successful in your attempt.

“These are two of Lord Frey’s sons,” Jungkook introduced, squeezing your hand.

You swallowed nervously and smiled at them. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lords.”

One of the men looked you up and down, his gaze lingering on your chest for a few moments too long. You tried not to scowl or roll your eyes. “So this is who you married instead of one of our sisters.” Jungkook cleared his throat. The man continued, not letting your husband utter a single word. “No matter. We come bearing news from our Lord Father. He is a forgiving man, our father. He wants to make you an offer.”

Jungkook leaned forward a bit, interested. You didn’t know much about the strategies, but you knew that House Frey was better to have on your side rather than the enemy’s. Everyone knew Walder Frey was not a man so easily crossed. “And what is this offer?”

“If your uncle takes your place and marries one of our sisters, all will be forgiven,” the other man said, leering at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. “But he demands that they be wed immediately, so that you cannot go back on your oath a second time.”

Jungkook cast his eyes down for a split second before he looked back up at them. “It will be arranged. We make for the wedding tonight, then.”

The men smiled and then stood, prompting the two of you to stand as well. Jungkook dropped your hand on the way, keeping it at his side. He shook hands with the two men and then they were escorted out of the room, where they were to gather their things and then make their way back home along with everyone here.

Jungkook had a soldier outside call for his mother and uncle to come to the hall, where he would go over everything with them. You wondered how his uncle would take the news—not well, you were sure. The news of your own sudden betrothal had come as a shock, even if it had been under slightly different circumstances than Jungkook’s uncle’s. You had an inkling that he would respond in a similar way as you had, or in a way much more exaggerated than you had—men had a tendency to express their emotions more often.

When both of them had appeared, Jungkook paused for a few minutes of tense silence before he decided to break the news.

“Uncle,” he said. “Arrangements have been made for your marriage to a Frey girl.”

There was an almost instantaneous burst from his uncle, as you’d expected. “What is the meaning of this? Why was I not consulted before the decision?”

Jungkook’s face was emotionless as he stared at his uncle, looking every bit a King in the North. “There was no need to consult you. We do not want the Frey House in our bad graces forever, and this is what they demand for crossing them.”

“So I will be fixing your mistake, then—”

“Careful, Uncle,” Jungkook said lowly. A shiver ran down your spine at his tone. “I may be your nephew, but I am still your king.”

The sentence shut the older man up, his face turning red with humiliation. You simply stood in silence, glancing between the men. Jungkook’s mother stood by the window, watching her brother and her son argue. You wondered how it felt for her.

Jungkook continued in the face of the silent but fuming man. “The Freys clearly want a powerful alliance and we have snubbed them already after making an oath. We cannot afford to make another enemy of a House, not when we are fighting for peace and the freedom of our people.” He turned to give his uncle a disappointed look. “Is your comfort more important than the future of our Northmen?”

At least at these words, Jungkook’s uncle had the decency to look embarrassed. He lowered his head, unable to meet Jungkook’s eyes. “No,” he nearly spit out. “It is not, Your Grace.”

“Good,” Jungkook replied without missing a beat. “Then prepare yourselves. We will be leaving at once to make our way to Lord Frey’s keep.”

His uncle bowed his head and then turned to leave, slamming the door behind him. You tried not to roll your eyes and turned toward your husband, only to find his mother already beside him.

“Are you sure about this, my son?” she asked quietly. There was a strange look in her eye but you did not question it.

Jungkook sighed and let his shoulders relax now that it was only the three of you in the hall. He faced you briefly and the tired look on his face prompted you to walk over to them and grab his hand with yours to comfort him.

“What else is there to do?” he asked. “I have no more options. If I hope to win this war, I need more men on my side rather than the Lannister’s. This will be a way to fix both the rift between our Houses and get more men. Refusing Lord Frey isn’t an option.”

His mother paused, looking down at your intertwined hands and you thought you saw the ghost of a smile crack on her stern face. When she met her son’s eyes, the smile had gone. “Do what you think is right for your people. You always have.”

With those words, she parted, leaving the room to go prepare herself to leave for the wedding. Jungkook turned to face you fully when she left, releasing your hand so he could grip your upper arms lightly and look at you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, though it almost sounded like it hurt him to say it. Like he wanted to say something else, but held back. “With me.” He shifted his hands up your arms and the sides of your neck until they were cradling your face gently.

“Me too,” you replied, keeping your voice soft and gentle. You couldn’t meet his eyes, the guilt of your statement gnawing at your insides like a ravenous beast, even as his touch on your skin ignited sparks of a flame.

Jungkook leaned forward, resting his forehead on yours. You raised your hands and placed them atop his on your cheeks, letting your eyes flutter shut as he breathed in deeply. Your husband was a just and fair ruler to his people, you knew that despite what had happened, but you could tell he was feeling the burden that had been placed on his shoulders.

“My father would have liked you,” he whispered, losing himself in his thoughts. You bit the inside of your cheek, remembering that you hadn’t been the only one to lose someone amongst the Northerners. It was a painful reminder.

“I wish I could have met him,” you told him, gripping his hands a little tighter.

“As do I.” He sighed slowly and his thumbs started to caress your cheeks absentmindedly. “One of the last things he told me before he went to King’s Landing was that being a Lord was like being a father.”

“How so?” you asked.

“It’s like you have thousands of children,” Jungkook said. “You wake with fear in the morning and go to bed with fear in the night. The farmers are yours to protect. The children and women scrubbing the floors are yours to protect. The men you order to fight for you are yours to protect.” He pulled back a bit to look at you, smiling with only the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t believe him, you know. I asked him how a man could be brave if he was afraid.”

“What did he say?”

Jungkook chuckled. “‘That is the only time a man can be brave,’ he said.”

You allowed yourself to laugh briefly as well. “Your father was a wise man.” Getting the words out were harder than you expected, a lump forming in your throat.

“Yes, he was,” Jungkook continued. “He was the best man I ever met.” Pulling away from you completely, your husband brushed his fingers across your cheek before he dropped his arm to his side. “We’d better get on our way, as well.”

You nodded your head and followed beside your king as the two of you left the hall and made your way to your quarters to pack what little you had brought with you.

The lot of you were gathered in front of Lord Frey and all his many children and grandchildren. You shifted uncomfortably every time any of their eyes landed on you, standing beside Jungkook.

“My Lord,” Jungkook started confidently, stepping a little forward. “You have my sincerest apologies.”

“You broke your oath,” Lord Frey returned, a nasty smirk on his face. “Your father would not have.”

You could see the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders at the lord’s words. “You are right,” he said calmly, lowering his head briefly. “I should not have done so. It was wrong of me to break my word.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” the lord continued dismissively. You could tell he was enjoying all of this, even if everyone else looked extremely uncomfortable. You tried not to let it show how uneasy you were at being here. “It is my girls who you spurned.”

There was a pause and Lord Frey gestured with his arms for his daughters to step forward. They did, coming to the front in a very long line. You tried to count them all but there were too many of them. You had heard numerous times from your parents having attended multiple weddings of Walder Frey himself that he had married many young girls. It seemed every time a wife of his passed, he would find himself another.

He made you sick.

“Your father is right,” Jungkook said, his voice much softer now than it had been when addressing the lord. “It was wrong of me to treat you, and my oath, with such disregard. The fault is not with you; it is with me. All men should keep their words, and kings most of all. I pledge to do all that is in my power to amend these wrongs so that our Houses may continue to be friends.”

The old lord clapped his hands almost mockingly and his daughters returned to their original places, no longer standing in a visible line. You wondered how the old man had the courage to so blatantly disrespect the King in the North, but you supposed he knew there was not much that Jungkook could do to him right now.

“Very good,” the lord said loudly, smirking at Jungkook. Then his eyes turned to you, dragging up and down your form in a way that made you wish you had another cloak over your shoulders. “And there is the bride you broke your oath for.” He leaned forward in his seat and narrowed his eyes at you. “Come closer, dear. Let me have a look at you.”

You fidgeted, glancing at Jungkook. He turned his head and met your gaze, giving you a small nod. Stepping forward, you bowed your head briefly to the lord. You glanced around the room, noting how all of the Frey men eyed you up along with their lord. It was disgusting. You wished you hadn’t come.

“Very pretty,” he said appraisingly. “Quite beautiful, indeed. Alright, enough of that. The servants will help you all to your accommodations and then we will feast.”

You breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped back and tried not to completely shy away into Jungkook’s side. When you were all led out of the hall and to your own rooms, Jungkook made sure to stick close to you even though he wasn’t touching you.

Once you were in your quarters, your bags having already been placed there before you, you turned and faced Jungkook. He placed a hand on your cheek and then leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, leaving you flustered.

“Whatever happens tonight,” he started, “stay close to me, alright?”

“Are you afraid they’ll try something?” you asked curiously.

Jungkook sighed and shook his head. “Lord Frey is a dangerous man, but he’s not stupid. It wouldn’t do well to start a fight with me and my men here. But I want you safe.”

“I will be safe,” you promised. “I have you, don’t I?”

Jungkook chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close into a warm embrace. “Yes, you do,” he mumbled into your hair softly. “You’ll always have me.”

You wrapped your own arms around him, holding him close to you as you shut your eyes.

It would be a long night ahead.

The chatter during the feast was loud and servants were walking around refilling goblets with wine and replenishing the food that was being eaten by the hungry Northerners. You spotted a few of your own men seated at tables or standing around flirting with the women, having fun. You could even spot a few people dancing to the merry tunes the band was playing.

Your eyes landed on Jungkook’s uncle, seated happily by his new bride—who turned out to be quite a beautiful girl—eating berries from her hand while she laughed. You couldn’t help but have to hold back a chuckle at the sight, as the entire way here he had been moaning and complaining about the marriage. But now he was sat beside his bride, enjoying himself completely. You tried not to think ill of your husband’s uncle, but he was indeed extremely shallow. Just a look at a beautiful girl and he was forgetting himself, completely overjoyed.

“That could have been you, up there,” you teased, turning toward Jungkook, who was sitting beside you. He was comfortable, leaned back in his chair, the food on his plate nearly completely gone and the wine in his goblet having been refilled at least twice. “Eating berries from a beautiful girl’s hand, enjoying yourself.”

Jungkook hummed, sending you a small smirk. “Maybe I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Your mouth fell open and you faced him fully, making to smack your hand against his chest for the jab. He caught your wrist easily and his smirk turned into a wolfish grin. “Striking your king is treason, you know.”

You lifted a brow at his words and cocked your head to the side teasingly. Jungkook pulled you toward him with the hand in his grip and you pushed at him lightly when he made to kiss you. “No, don’t,” you mumbled, leaning away from him. “Don’t insult them.”

Jungkook grumbled but did as you asked, leaning back in his chair and dropping your wrist. You sat back in your chair as well, just in time it seemed. The loud music in the dining feast started to quiet, the new happy couple stealing glances at each other seated up by Lord Frey.

“Your Grace,” the man called. “Your uncle has wrapped my daughter in a cloak and the Septon has prayed his prayers. But they are not yet man and wife! A sword needs a sheath, and a wedding needs a bedding!” There were roars of laughter around you and you grimaced. How could a man utter such words at his own daughter’s wedding? You supposed you were luckier than most to have married Jungkook, even if the wedding had been cloaked in despair and death. “What does my sire say?”

The men around all of you started to cheer and slam their cups into the tables. “Bed! Bed! Bed!”

Jungkook smiled and sat up in his chair. “If you think the time is right, Lord Frey, then by all means—let us bed them!”

Applause and cheers broke out as the Northerners rushed forward to make a grab for the newlyweds. Jungkook’s uncle was laughing along with the women and girls who grabbed at his clothes and started to undress him as they went, though you could see the Frey bride’s unease as the men carried her out, shedding her of her outer clothes.

You tried not to shake your head at the sight, remaining in your seat instead. Jungkook reached over and held your hand comfortingly in his, sending you a smile. The large doors shut loudly after the couple was led out along with the men and women, and only a handful remained—including a lot of your own men. You leaned toward your husband, but then Lord Frey’s voice rang out again in the quieted hall, a strangely familiar tune playing from the band.

“Your Grace,” he called out. “I’m afraid I’ve been remiss in my duties. I’ve given you meat, and wine, and music, but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. My King has married and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift!” The lord chuckled as he spoke, but something about his voice and the way he was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

You glanced over at Jungkook, whose eyes were on the lord’s, and you caught the barest glimpse of something in the light. You started to turn in your seat and saw a hand with a tight grip come down toward your king. You couldn’t process what was happening until you heard Jungkook’s pained grunt, his hand loosening around yours.

It was a knife.

Your eyes widened and you started to scream as the man stabbed Jungkook’s abdomen repeatedly with his blade, blood splattering on your hand gripped in your husband’s, and spilling from his clothes. Jungkook released your hand to grip at his wounds while the man hurriedly shifted away so that he couldn’t grab him. Your hands started to reach for Jungkook.

You were still screaming when hands gripped your arms, yanking you out of your seat and away from Jungkook. You could vaguely hear shouts and the sound of metal slashing against armor and skin, the faint sound of Jungkook’s mother screaming her son’s name, but your eyes were focused on him and him alone. He tried to get up from his seat and failed, groaning with pain as his men were slaughtered alongside him.

“Let me go!” you shouted, thrashing against whoever was holding you. “Please, please, let me go—let me go!” The man didn’t listen to you, simply holding you against him in place as he moved away from the bloody scene. A hand came up to cover your mouth when you started screaming incoherently.

Your wide eyes took in the scene of carnage, Northern men falling into puddles of their own blood, the band shooting arrows from their crossbows at any Northerner still standing, and you could feel the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. Jungkook crumpled to the floor from his seat, cradling his torso as blood pooled underneath him. With a quick sweep of the room, you could see that it was your men along with the Freys who were weilding bloody weapons.

What had they done?

As the screams and shouts had faded, almost everyone lying dead on the floor, you spotted Jungkook’s mother standing in front of Lord Frey, a knife in her own hand and blood dripping down her arm and to the floor. Jungkook was gripping the side of a table, pulling himself up shakily onto his feet, one hand still pressed uselessly to his bleeding stomach.

“Enough!” she shouted, voice thick. “Let it end! Please… he is my son. Let him go and we will take no vengeance, I swear it! By the old gods and new, we will forget this!”

“You already swore me one oath—you swore by all the gods your son would marry my daughter!” Lord Frey shouted back, comfortably seated in his chair.

“Jungkook!” she cried, turning to face her staggering son. “Jungkook, get up! Get up and walk out, please!” Your chest was wracked with silent sobs as the man held you, his hand still covering your mouth, and you cried helplessly at the desperation in her voice, the same desperation filling you. “Please!”

Lord Frey scoffed. “And why would I let him do that?”

Jungkook was standing now on his own, facing his mother. Then he turned back, his dark eyes finding yours. You fought against the grip around you harder, trying to get to him.

You spotted a man making his way toward Jungkook and you screamed, tried to make Jungkook understand that he needed to leave, needed to get away from the man. With a shock, you realized the man making his way to Jungkook was Eunwoo. Had this all been arranged before with your mother and Eunwoo, along with your men?

He grabbed your husband by his shoulder and stood completely in front of him. Brandishing a knife, he mumbled something quietly to Jungkook, and then he plunged the knife into his gut once more. Yanking it out, Eunwoo stepped away and left Jungkook to crumple once again to the ground, into his own blood, completely limp.

The grip around you loosened enough for you to stumble forward, falling to your knees. Staggering forward, you made your way over to Jungkook and fell once again to your knees at his side. You could feel the damp blood seeping into your dress, but you paid it no mind as you cried, your hands desperately clinging to Jungkook, his eyes open and staring up at nothing.

You looked up and saw someone grab Jungkook’s mother and shift their blade against her skin, slitting her throat, and she fell to the floor in a heap as blood spurted from the slice. You turned back to your husband and king, laying lifeless in front of you as the men hurried to and fro, cheering for their victory against the King in the North.

Your hands grabbed at his chest and torso, coming away sticky with his blood, and you shakily placed them against his cheeks. His dark eyes were unseeing and you couldn’t stop sobbing, not paying any mind to anything else that was happening around you.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, the tears still falling. “You can’t leave me, please,” you cried. “Please don’t leave me, you have to stay with me, Jungkook, please—don’t you remember?” The tears fell onto his face while you asked, a small pained smile making its way onto your face. “You said I would always have you. That’s what you said, Jungkook. You can’t leave—” You broke off into muffled sobs, unable to continue speaking.

There was no answer.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his, weeping for another loss amidst the deafening shouts and cheers of the men around you.

all rights reserved © junqkook | 17 JAN 2020 | the reposting, modifying, and/or translating of any kind on any medium is strictly NOT allowed. 

[ms-indifferwnt]

I’m Cold

“I'm cold"

"And?"

"Can't you give me your jacket or something?"

"Can't you accept my proposal and marry me already?"

In which Prince Donghyuck's parents are forcing him to get married and he decided to propose to the first girl he sees to shut his parents up

Genre: Prince!Lee Donghyuck x Maid!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Arranged Marriage (kinda), Slowburn

Warnings: Curse words, Suggestive (I'll add more if there are)

Notes: Chapter 3 of Im Cold. Sorry this one took longer, hope you guys enjoy

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

Prev / Chapter 3 / Next

Y/n was screaming in frustration o to her pillow, Damn the Prince's good Looks, Damn the Prince's words, Damn the Prince's Kindness, Damn it all!

Y/n sighs after screaming on to her pillow, she flips over back against the soft covers, she couldn't help but think about how the evening end up like this. How could she say yes? After Prince Donghyuck has asked for two Weeks what happened?

"No" Y/n replied and stood up

Donghyuck grabbed her by the wrist, it wasn't forceful nor was it tight, Prince Donghyuck gave her an opportunity to pull away, to take her wrist away from the Prince, But why didn't she? "Please" He pleaded and Y/n's eyes widened "At least think it over, if you are still determined to tell my parents I will gladly assist you but please, at least until we're done eating dinner, think it over"

Y/n was shocked to see the prince pleading, asking her to think about it, was this that important to the prince? She nods, fine after dinner she'll reject him, she was getting fed up with how stubborn he is, it wasn't just messing up with the royal family's values, it was also bothering with her life, her own private life, how she is being seen, how people address her whole life went upside down just because the prince lost his temper

Donghyuck nods and stands bowing towards her, "I'm sorry, I know I have troubled you" He confesses and Y/n grabbed him by the shoulders to make  him stand straight but he wouldn't budge "I know that by making you do this I have placed you in a hard position" she shakes her head and tears start trickling  his eyes, it was all overwhelming, her feelings and the Prince' words being all too heavy on her conscience, the tears weren't necessary nor was it intentional but before she could realize, a sob leaves her lips and Prince Donghyuck's reaction was quick, he stood up straight hands out to hold her as she starts wiping her face

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying" she whimpers and keeps wiping her face with her hands, The prince pulls her hands away and uses his handkerchief to wipe her tears, no words were exchanged, not until she calmed down

Neither noticed it but the Prince'd hand always hovered near the girl's as if waiting for the right moment to hold her hand. The Prince looks at her and she was staring at the cloth in her hand, it was simple, laced in golden thread "Do you like sweets?" The Prince suddenly spoke making her look at him and she nods, he smiles softly and takes her hand in his "Let's go get some ice-cream"

       Morning comes and Y/n wakes up to the sound of Prince Donghyuck's voice "Hana, which one is better?"

Y/n opened her eyes to be greeted by Prince Donghyuck looking through her closet "Goodmorning" he greets and moves to kiss her forehead, Y/n still freezes at the action but smiled "I've chosen your outfit for today so we can match" Donghyuck pats his thighs to show off the color and smiles, standing up to hold her hand and help her out of bed, "Wear this" he shows a pretty blue floral lace Bardot dress, pattern adorned with white and pink roses while lace covers the edges the color matching the Prince's blue-ish dress pants "Get her dressed Hana"

And at the Prince's words, Hana leads Y/n to the conjoined bathroom, helping her clean up and get dressed fixing the way it hugs her curves, and Hana smiles, applying a bit of touch-ups on her skin and fixing her hair. She was done and Y/n looked into the mirror, Hana has fixed her hair into a half-up bun style making it look messy yet classy, the hairstyle complementing the dress

They both left the bathroom only to be greeted by the prince facing away from the bathroom door looking at his phone "Done? Can I turn and see?"

Y/n blinks, the Prince purposefully turned away to give her space and privacy, she smiles softly "Yes you can turn around now"

The prince turns around and he smiles at the sight, but then he wrapped one arm around his waist as a support for his elbow where he places his chin on his palm eyeing her "Something's missing" he mumbled

Y/n blinks and tilts her head as Hana turns to look at Y/n "Jewelry?" Hana offers and the Prince nods, with the Maid immediately reacting walking to get the Jewelry box from the vanity, "Milady has a wide assortment of jewelry here, my Prince" she says and turns only to gasp at the sight

The Prince had invaded Y/n's personal bubble, him being so close their chest could be flushed against each other, her hair was out of the way while the Prince had his arms around her neck as he tries and clasps the necklace. In all honesty, if he wanted to help her wear it he could've done it from behind not doing it while almost hugging Y/n

Y/n could feel the Prince's breath fan against her neck at the close proximity, she blushes and moved to hold on to the blazer in front of her until finally, the prince locks the necklace tracing a cold finger against the chain, she tried, she just couldn't help but feel the goosebumps rise against her skin where he had touched "There, you look pretty" he smiles his finger stopping at the pendant only to return tracing against her collar bones and down her arms. Y/n would be lying if she says the prince didn't have an effect on her, cause, oh how her heart raced at the action, silently willing them to stop, he traces lower 'till he holds her hand looking at her wrist "Let us get you a bracelet" he lets go of her only to look through the jewelry box

Hana stood there in shock, cheeks a shade of red at the display of affection, standing off to the side, knowing that she shouldn't react unless Y/n or the Prince might need her

The Prince would take time, looking through the wide assortment of bracelets and looking at the Y/n to look at her wrists and then dress, only to resume his search. Y/n on the other hand had examined the pendant of the necklace, it was a flower, a white flower pendant with delicate details on to its petals, making it look as if it is blooming "It's called a gardenia flower"

She looks into his eyes "what?" she blinks a bit surprises

He points to the pendant "That a gardenia flower, do you like it?" he asks and stands up fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves

She nods shyly "It's a pretty flower" he nods and takes his watch  off, it was a simple watch, it had a golden chain strap along with its case, a black tint on the watch itself  "You have a pretty watch" she murmurs and the Prince smiles

"Good, cause you'll be using this today" he replies and walks up to her  so he can hold her wrist, placing the watch on and locking it in place "Its a bit big on you," he laughs as if finding the whole ordeal cute "Remind me later, lets go on jewelry shopping ok?" Y/n nods silently and he examines Y/n, nodding in approval at the sight he smiles and locks there fingers "Lets go, lets have breakfast together then we can go out to my schedules ok?" he says as he leads her out of her room and into the dining hall

Letting him lead her out, "I'm sorry, My Prince-" she starts but the prince cuts her off

"You should get used to calling me Donghyuck for the next two weeks" he murmurs and turns his head to look at her and smiled "What were you saying?"

She clears her throat and avoided eye contact "Why do I have to come with you on your schedule?"

He hums as if thinking of the right words to answer her question "well, It would be great to show my parents that I am 'serious'," He makes air quotes with his free hand "about you, a plus to make them believe that i need time to heal when we do break up. And, it gets lonely when I'm the only one going"

       "Where is this meeting being held exactly, My Prince?" Y/n asked as she turns away from the car window to look at the Prince only to get a raised eyebrow in return "Donghyuck" she corrects and he nods in approval

"At a café, we'll be meeting with someone, he claims that this project he proposes will help a lot of people"

"Then why must you be the one to interview them? wouldn't it be better for the King and Queen to address that matter themselves?"

"Well, Yes. But not everything will go through the King and Queen, first they have to go through me to make sure its worth seeing by them and then the decision is ultimately theirs"

"Ah" she hums softly and nods "I understand" she smiles and Donghyuck couldn't help but smile back

Once they arrive, The Prince leads Y/n by the hand to a man dressed in a fancy suit he stands and bows towards the new arrivals "My name Johnny, thank you for giving me a chance to speak to you your highness"

Donghyuck bows and smiles "Of course,. I'd like you to meet my Fiancé, Y/n this Suh Johnny, a dear friend and at the moment a benefactor" he smiles informs and Johnny bows in her direction with her mirroring the action, "Please sit." They all obeyed

Johnny was very convincing and honestly, the Prince liked his proposal but as Johnny excused himself to go to the bathroom, Donghyuck turned to Y/n "What do you think?"

She blinked in confusion "Sorry?" she tilts her head slightly and Donghyuck had resist the urge to grab her by the chin so that he can adjust it "But why are you asking me, my Prince?"

He frowns "Donghyuck, Y/n, please call me Donghyuck, you earned the title of being my friend in this predicament you and I are in" earning a nod from the girl and he hums "but to answer your question, its because you might know what's best" she watches him as he spoke "I have not once tried living as if I wasn't a prince, I've never went to the market or done house chores, but you have and you do, compared to me you know what can help improve the way my people work and move, so I'm asking you, what did you think of his proposal?"

Y/n lets the Prince's words sink in as she looks down at her lap, she never thought that it'd come to this, The crowned prince asking her opinion but here she was "Yes, It'll be of great help" she started and started explaining the points on why and how it could improve, stating facts and sharing little stories along the way with her explanation as the Prince attentively listened and nodded

After she spoke, the Prince nodded and smiled at her "that is great Y/n" he moves to hold her hand cupping them "Thank you" he beams he opens his mouth to speak only to be stopped by Johnny returning and the Prince drops her hand

"I'm sorry" Johnny says and sat down "May I continue?" and the prince nods "As I was saying adding homes, giving the people their own job that is cleaning up our parks can lessen our rate of jobless citizens and also lessen out the homeless-"

Johnny was cut off to the prince swerving to the side and looking at his Fiancé "What's your favorite cake flavor?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Cake flavor," he repeats and nods towards the different displays and grins "What is it?"

She looks at Johnny who smiles at her "Mocha" she answers and he hums "you really do have a sweet tooth hmm?" he raises a hand to flag down a waiter "and coffee?" he turns to look at her then stops "No, Sorry you hate coffee... One Mocha cake and," he hums going back to when he bought ice cream for her and smiled "two cups of Hot Chocolate please, would you like anything Johnny?"

"Just coffee" He replies

"Black Coffee for him" Donghyuck says and the waiter bows, "Sorry, continue" and with that Johnny continues

Donghyuck is now to make a decision, if he says yes, Johnny will speak to his parents about his proposal and he hums, giving his and Y/n's words to careful consideration, his eyes drifting to Y/n as she took a bite "feed me" he says out of the blue making Y/n and Johnny look at him surprised

"I can't think without sugar and I drank my milk, just one bite" he coaxes and, Y/n offered him a bit which he happily accepted, looking at Johnny he grins "I hope my parents like your idea as much as we did Johnny"