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banzonism · 7 months ago

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WE FOUND LOVE (In a Hopeless Place)

one-shot

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance, fluff, drama, comedy

tags: ceo jk! rich jk! fashion model reader! cute jk! jjk x jjk crossover! slight enemies to lover! friends to lovers!

synopsis: In a string of chance encounters, two people from wildly different worlds, find themselves inexplicably drawn to one another. Maybe the universe has been orchestrating something all along. In a swirl of laughter, longing, and love, they begin to wonder if they have finally found what they didn’t even know they were searching for. The beauty of emerging from brokenness, love blossoming in the least expected circumstances, proving that sometimes, even in the most hopeless places, love has a way of finding you.

words count: 8.6k

notes: this is my first one shot jjk ff ahhh i've been thinking about this plot for a while bc of that one jungkook pic above hehe anyway enjoy reading <3

Las Vegas.

Being a fashion model is a balancing act. It’s not just about walking runways or posing for editorial spreads. It’s late nights rehearsing a flawless walk, early mornings enduring hours of hair and makeup, and constant flights between fashion capitals. You are not a household name like some models, you have made your mark. Campaigns for high-end brands, covers on major fashion magazines, and being a regular on exclusive runways have earned you recognition. Your career is steady—not overwhelming but enough to keep you in rooms where champagne flows freely and the conversation sparkles.

Tonight was one of those nights.

You had been invited by Jung Hoseok, a longtime friend and one of the most talented designers you know, to celebrate his latest collection's success. The show had been a triumph, and you were one of the faces of his collection, walking the Vegas runway in his stunning designs. His exclusive afterparty was being held at a swanky bar one of those places where entry was practically currency itself.

You smoothed the fabric of your dress, a slinky black piece by Versace, clinging to you in all the right places. Its thigh-high slit revealed just enough leg to make heads turn without screaming trying too hard. Your hair fell effortlessly in soft waves, and your Louboutin heels clicked against the pavement as you arrived.

The air was electric when you walked in. Crystal chandeliers hung like jewels from the ceiling, the bar gleamed under dim lights, and the room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. Hoseok, in his signature vibrant suit, caught sight of you and immediately waved you over.

“Y/N!” he beamed, pulling you into a hug. “You look stunning as always.”

“Thank you! And congratulations, Hobi. The show was incredible,” you said genuinely. “Every single piece was a masterpiece. You have outdone yourself.”

His grin widened. “You’re too kind, but coming from you, it means the world.”

You settled into easy conversation, sipping on champagne as the night unfolded. Hoseok glowed with pride—not just from the success of his show, but also from something more personal. You raised an eyebrow when he let slip he had been in a healthy relationship.

“Six months, huh?” you teased. “That’s practically married in fashion industry terms!”

He laughed, his grin wide. “I know, right? But she’s amazing. Keeps me grounded, calls me out when I’m being too extra—which is all the time, obviously.”

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “That’s got to be the longest relationship you have ever had, right? Should we celebrate that too?”

Hoseok gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you had just wounded him. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I have had plenty of long relationships!”

“Oh, really? Name one.” you raised an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying his flustered expression.

“Well…” He paused, clearly scrambling. “There was… uh…”

“That’s what I thought.” you laughed, shaking your head. “It’s okay, Hobi. We’re all proud of you for finally breaking your three-month streak.”

“You’re impossible,” he grumbled, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Maybe I should start giving you relationship advice now, since I’m apparently the expert.”

“Oh, please,” you snorted. “You’re one more text away from being whipped, and we both know it.”

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, holding his hands up. “When are you going to get yourself a man? I’m going to find you someone tonight.”

“Good luck with that,” you muttered, taking another sip of champagne.

“No, I’m serious!” Hoseok leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re gorgeous, successful, and you have taste. What’s the holdup?”

“It’s not that simple,” you replied, sipping your champagne.

“Then let’s make it simple. Tonight’s mission: find Y/N a man,” he declared, clapping his hands together.

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing.

“Too late. It’s happening.”

He scanned the crowd dramatically, his finger wagging like a radar. “Alright, what about him?”

You followed his gaze to a tall guy nursing a whiskey at the bar. “Probably taken.”

Hoseok squinted. “How can you possibly tell?”

“Look at his hand,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes zeroed in, and then he groaned. “Oh a ring? Seriously? Why do the good ones always come pre-owned?”

Shaking your head. “Because they’ve been snatched up by people who don’t need their friend matchmaking at parties.”

“Rude,” Hoseok shot back, feigning offense. “I’m doing God’s work here.”

“That guy in the navy suit?”

“Too old.”

“Alright, what about tall and brooding over there?”

“Not my type.”

Hoseok sighed theatrically. “You’re impossible.”

Before you could retort, a shift in the room’s energy caught your attention. The chatter quieted for a moment, heads turned, and the air thickened with a sense of presence. That’s when you saw him.

He stood at the entrance, effortlessly commanding attention in a tailored black suit that hugged his frame perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, a single strand rebelliously falling onto his forehead. His sharp jawline and piercing gaze were enough to make anyone look twice or three times.

“Wow,” Hoseok whispered beside you, fanning himself. “Now that’s a head-turner.”

You couldn’t disagree. The man was magnetic in a way few people were.

“Oh, you’re blushing,” Hoseok teased, nudging you.

“I am not!” you protested, though your cheeks betrayed you.

“You are. And you know what this means,” he said, grinning mischievously.

“What?”

“You’re going to talk to him.”

You laughed nervously. “Absolutely not.”

“Y/N, come on! Look at him. This is fate handing you a golden opportunity,” Hoseok insisted.

“I don’t even know him!”

“That’s the point. Go introduce yourself. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You hesitated, and Hoseok seized his chance. “I bet you can’t do it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re betting on this now?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t talk to him, I’m telling everyone here that you chickened out.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, darling. Now, go,” he said, practically pushing you out of your seat.

You took a deep breath, heart pounding as you glanced at the man again. His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, before landing briefly on you. Both of your eyes met, and you feel a spark of something unspoken passed between the both of you.

Fine. You could do this. For the sake of your pride—and to shut Hoseok up, you adjusted your dress, squared your shoulders, and took a step forward.

You took a deep breath as you made your way to him. He was seated near the bar, his profile sharp under the dim lighting, exuding an aura that screamed untouchable. His drink sat touched on the counter, his focus distant, like he was counting down the seconds until he could leave.

Alright, Y/N, you got this. Just be charming. Flirty. Casual. How hard can it be?

Clearing your throat softly, you slid onto the barstool beside him. “You know,” you started with a smirk, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

He slowly turned his head to look at you, his brow arching in what could only be described as mild annoyance. “Excuse me?”

You faltered but quickly recovered. “I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business.”

You mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” His tone was flat, but the words stung.

“That’s not—” you sputtered, now feeling defensive. “Okay, you know what? Never mind. Clearly, I misread the vibe. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

You turned on your heel, heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and fury as you stormed back to Hoseok.

“You’re back already?” he asked, smirking as he handed you a fresh glass of champagne. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said sarcastically, collapsing onto the couch beside him. “Just got verbally smacked by the guy you insisted I talk to.”

Hoseok burst out laughing. “What did he say?”

“That I don’t know how to mind my own business!”

Hoseok clutched his stomach, tears forming in his eyes. “Oh, my God, Y/N, what did you say to him?”

“Nothing bad! I was just trying to be friendly. He’s the one with the stick up his—”

Before you could finish, you noticed the man leaving the bar. He walked toward the exit with the same quiet, commanding air he had when he entered. No goodbyes, no lingering. Just a clean getaway.

“Whatever,” you muttered. “He’s clearly not a fan of parties—or people.”

“Fair,” Hoseok said, still chuckling as two familiar faces joined you. Jihyo and Sana, fellow models and the unofficial queens of industry gossip, flopped onto the couch with the kind of grace only models could manage.

“What’s so funny?” Sana asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as if she were still mid-photo shoot.

“Y/N just got spectacularly shut down by the Jeon Jungkook,” Hoseok declared, barely containing his laughter.

You turned to him sharply. “Wait, you know him?”

Jihyo’s jaw dropped, her eyes darting between Hoseok and you. “Hold on, that Jungkook? CEO of Resorts International?”

“Oh, that’s his name,” you muttered, sinking further into your seat. “Explains a lot. The guy’s got all the charm of a brick wall.”

“More like a brick wall covered in barbed wire,” Sana quipped, her brows raising dramatically. “I’ve heard he’s impossible to approach��unless you’re an accountant or a cocktail waitress.”

Sana chimed in, leaning forward like she was about to spill state secrets. “You’ve heard the rumors, right? Cold-hearted, doesn’t talk to anyone unless he has to, and supposedly—” she lowered her voice dramatically, “—he’s got a different girl in his bed every week.”

Jihyo nodded sagely. “I’ve heard the same. He’s all business, no warmth. Probably because he grew up as an only child with more money than he knew what to do with.”

Hoseok snorted. “To be fair, you did call him a loner to his face.”

“I didn’t call him a loner! I implied it,” you defended. “Big difference.”

The three of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in despite your bruised ego.

“Well,” you sighed dramatically, raising your glass, “here’s to tonight. Not exactly my lucky night in the romance department.”

“Hey, it’s Vegas,” Hoseok said, clinking his glass against to yours. “Plenty of fish in the sea. Just… maybe avoid the sharks next time.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you took a sip. If nothing else, at least you had good company to cushion your failed attempts at flirting.

Jeon Jungkook had lived his entire life under a spotlight, but it wasn’t the kind that most people would envy. As the only son of the founder of Resorts International, one of the world’s leading gaming and hospitality empires, he was groomed for success before he could even spell the word. He had grown up surrounded by glitzy hotel openings, exclusive business meetings, and lavish galas where every handshake could seal a deal worth millions.

When his father announced his retirement three months ago, handing over the CEO reins to Jungkook, the world collectively held its breath. The media speculated endlessly: Would the golden boy live up to his father’s legacy? Was he ready for the challenge?

Jungkook had proven them all wrong. In just three months, he already started modernizing the company’s operations, implementing eco-friendly initiatives, and streamlining inefficiencies. But despite his achievements, his reputation among those outside the boardroom was less favorable.

“Cold-hearted.”

“Unapproachable.”

“Stone-faced heir.”

The whispers followed him everywhere, branding him as someone impossible to know, let alone love. In reality, Jungkook wasn’t cold—just guarded. Growing up without siblings or close confidants had shaped him into someone who found comfort in solitude. His reserved nature wasn’t a symptom of arrogance, but rather a quiet reflection of how overwhelming his life had become.

Beneath the sharp suits and calculated demeanor was a man who loved simple pleasures: sketching in his notebook, playing the piano, or indulging in late-night gaming sessions. But no one saw that side of him not his colleagues, not the socialites clamoring for his attention, and certainly not the father who believed his son’s life wasn’t complete without a wife.

Jungkook’s friend Kim Taehyung, the eccentric owner of one of the hottest luxury fashion brands, had practically dragged him to this afterparty. Taehyung had a knack for throwing events that were equal parts exclusive and chaotic, and tonight was no exception.

“You need to loosen up,” Taehyung had said earlier, handing Jungkook a glass of champagne. “You’ve been running that empire of yours like a man possessed. It’s a party, not a shareholders’ meeting.”

“I’m not really in the mood, Tae,” Jungkook replied, scanning the room full of strangers.

“Of course, you’re not,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. “But you’re staying. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting tonight.”

Jungkook sighed. Taehyung was relentless.

The truth was, he wasn’t just tired from work. His father had been on his case again earlier that day, pressing him to start dating.

“You’re the face of this company now, Jungkook. People look up to you. It’s time you settled down.”

“Dad, I’ve been CEO for three months. I’m focusing on stabilizing the company,” Jungkook had argued.

“Excuses. You’re hiding behind work because you’re afraid of commitment,” his father shot back.

The argument had left a sour taste in Jungkook’s mouth. Relationships weren’t on his radar right now. He wasn’t against the idea entirely, but the thought of being with someone when he could barely keep his own life in order felt irresponsible.

Jungkook slipped away from the main floor and into the restroom, taking a moment to breathe. The thrum of the party dulled behind the heavy door, and for a few minutes, he could pretend he wasn’t Jungkook Jeon, CEO of Resorts International.

He leaned against the counter, staring at his reflection. You don’t have to stay long. Just make an appearance, then leave. It’s fine.

When he returned to the party, Taehyung intercepted him immediately.

“Where were you hiding?” Taehyung teased, clinking his glass against Jungkook’s.

“Just needed a break,” Jungkook replied. “I was actually about to head out.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Taehyung’s grin widened mischievously. “You can’t leave without at least trying to have some fun. Find someone to talk to. Flirt, even. You’re single, man. Enjoy it!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Guilty as charged. Now, promise me you’ll stay for at least thirty more minutes.”

“Fine. Thirty minutes,” Jungkook muttered, already regretting it.

He found himself at the bar, sipping whiskey and counting down the seconds until he could make his escape. That’s when you appeared.

“You know,” you said, sliding onto the stool beside him, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

Your tone was playful, your smile confident, but Jungkook could only muster a blank stare. Who starts a conversation like that?

“Excuse me?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type,” you continued.

The comment rubbed him the wrong way—not because it was offensive, but because it hit too close to home.

“And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business,” he replied flatly.

Your expression faltered, but only for a moment. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” he shot back.

You stood abruptly, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “You know what? Never mind. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

As you walked away, Jungkook felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to come off so harsh. He was just… out of his depth.

Deciding he’d had enough, Jungkook downed the rest of his whiskey and left the bar. As he walked through the crowd, he couldn’t help but glance back at you. You were sitting with a group of friends, laughing animatedly despite their earlier exchange.

For a brief moment, Jungkook wondered if he’d made a mistake. But then, the weight of his father’s words pressed down on him again. And yet, as he walked away, your voice lingered in his mind.

The warm, familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee hit you as you stepped into your favorite café, the one you always visit whenever you're in Vegas. Normally, this place feels like a sanctuary a calm start to your day with a comforting latte in hand. But not today. Today, the universe seemed to have woken up and decided to toy with you.

First, you received some ridiculous news about your upcoming campaign shoot being delayed, throwing your entire schedule into chaos. Then, in you rush to storm out of the hotel, you had forgotten your purse. Great.

Still, you weren't about to let that stop you from grabbing your usual coffee. A caffeine fix was non-negotiable.

“Medium latte, please,” you said to the barista, already picturing the soothing warmth of the cup in your hands.

“That will be $5.50, ma'am,” he replied.

You instinctively reached into your pocket, only to come up empty. Your stomach dropped. “Uh…” you glanced up sheepishly. “Okay, so funny thing—I left my wallet at my hotel. But I am a regular here. Can I just—”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the barista interrupted, his tone clipped. “We can’t process an order without payment. Policy.”

You blinked, thrown by his sharpness. “I’m not asking for free coffee. I’ll come back and pay, I swear. You can even ask the manager—I’m here all the time.”

“I really can’t do that,” he said, looking uncomfortable but firm. “We’ve had issues before with people trying to…”

You froze. “Are you accusing me of being a scammer?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant,” he stammered, his face flushing. “It’s just…we have to be careful—”

“Careful about what?” your voice rose as irritation crept in. “About someone who forgot their wallet? I’m not exactly trying to rob you!”

The barista looked ready to melt into the floor when a low, calm voice broke through.

“I’ll pay for it.”

You turned to the source of the voice, and your breath caught.

Standing a few feet away was none other than him—Jungkook. The same man who had practically shut you down a week ago at Hoseok’s party. He looked just as composed and intimidating as before, dressed in a sleek black coat over a crisp white turtleneck, his hair perfectly tousled like he had just stepped out of a photoshoot.

He slid a bill onto the counter without a second glance in your direction. “For her latte,” he said to the barista, who nodded nervously and rushed to complete the order.

You stood there, dumbfounded.

“Wait—what are you doing?” you finally managed to ask as Jungkook turned and headed for the door.

“Paying for your coffee,” he said over his shoulder, his voice casual, like it was no big deal.

“Why?” you demanded, hurrying after him.

He paused at the entrance, looking at you with an expression that was equal parts bored and amused. “Because you looked like you needed it.”

You blinked, caught between annoyance and gratitude. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” he replied simply.

You crossed your arms, planting myself in his path. “Okay, but why? What’s the catch? Last time we talked, you made it pretty clear you don’t exactly like strangers.”

He raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you. Instead, he said, “And last time we talked, you called me a loner. So maybe I’m just returning the favor.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. “Wow, you really have a way with people, don’t you?”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “Look, if it bothers you that much, don’t think of it as charity. Think of it as me doing something nice.”

“Nicer than calling me pitiful,” you muttered under your breath, but he caught it.

His ears turned pink. “You looked like you were having a bad day,” he mumbled, suddenly avoiding your gaze.

For a moment, you just stared at him. There was something unexpectedly, endearing about how awkward he seemed. Like he wasn’t used to small talk or acts of kindness but was trying anyway.

“Well, I don’t like owing people,” you said finally. “So the next time we meet, I’ll treat you. Deal?”

Jungkook looked at you, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, to your surprise, the corners of his mouth lifted into a barely-there smile.

“Sure. If we would meet again.”

He slipped out the door before you could respond, leaving you standing there with your coffee and a strange flutter in your chest.

As you took a sip of your latte, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he wasn’t the cold, untouchable man everyone made him out to be. Maybe… he was just a little awkward. And kind of sweet.

A rare break from your job was the perfect excuse to finally try something new and for some reason, the idea of working out seemed appealing. Maybe it was the influencers you had been scrolling past on Instagram with their perfectly toned abs, or maybe you just needed a distraction. Either way, you grabbed your phone and searched for gyms nearby.

After a few minutes of scrolling, you found a fancy spot that looked promising. The problem? You didn’t have a car. Public transportation in Vegas wasn’t exactly convenient, and walking there in this heat wasn’t an option either.

Then it hit you—You had the solution. You immediately dialed your rich friend, Park Jimin.

Jimin picked up on the second ring, his voice as cheerful as ever. “Y/N! What’s up?”

“Hey, Jimin,” you said, getting straight to the point. “Can I borrow one of your cars? I found this gym I want to check out, but, you know…”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat. “Which one? The Lamborghini, the Porsche, or—”

“Something normal, please,” you cut in, laughing. “I just need to get there, not cause a scene.”

“Normal? What does that even mean?” Jimin teased. “Alright, I’ll send one over. Consider it done.”

You chatted for a bit longer, mostly about his upcoming projects and his love for the Vegas nightlife, until the conversation took a surprising turn.

“By the way,” Jimin said casually, like he was talking about ordering coffee, “I’m throwing a yacht party this weekend for my birthday. You have to come.”

You blinked. “A yacht party? Like... on an actual yacht?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he said, laughing. “A boat, water, champagne, music—the whole deal. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of skipping it.”

“I mean... no,” you admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed. “It’s just... I don’t think that’s really my scene. You know I’m not exactly—”

“Not exactly what?” he pressed, his tone growing curious.

You hesitated, then sighed. “Well... out of your league?”

“Out of your league?” Jimin repeated, his voice turning sharp, almost offended. “Don’t be ridiculous. I invited you because you’re one of my closest friends. You and Hoseok.”

Jung Hoseok the reason you had met Jimin in the first place. Back when you started in the fashion industry, Hoseok had introduced you to his best friend, and Jimin had been an instant ally: warm, funny, and, despite his wealth, incredibly down-to-earth.

“You’re sure I won’t be awkwardly out of place?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Jimin snorted. “Awkward? You? This is coming from someone who had zero shame asking to borrow one of my cars five minutes ago.”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, you got me there.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone softening now. “Listen, I only invited people I trust people I actually like. You’ll have Hoseok there too. It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

And just like that, you could feel the tension melting away. “Alright,” you said, smiling. “Count me in. But if I trip and fall into the ocean, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Jimin’s laughter rang out like a promise. “Deal. But I’m making you wear a life jacket just in case. The car should be pulling up any minute.”

As if on cue, you heard the unmistakable sound of a sleek engine pulling into the driveway. You peeked out the window and shook your head, smiling. Jimin’s idea of “normal” turned out to be a shiny black Tesla.

“Your chariot awaits,” Jimin said playfully before hanging up.

Grabbing my bag, you headed out the door and slid into the luxurious interior. You had to admit, the excitement was starting to build not just for the workout but for the yacht party. Maybe this was exactly the kind of escape you needed. After all, life had a way of surprising you when you least expected it.

The gym was buzzing with energy as you powered through your workout routine. The rhythmic thud of weights dropping and faint music filled the air, and you were in the zone completely focused. By the time as you finished and moved to cool down, your muscles felt like jelly, but the satisfying kind.

You reached for your water bottle and lowered the volume of your earbuds, the background hum of the gym suddenly sharper. That’s when you heard it—a loud, frustrated, “Shit, what the hell just happened?”

Intrigued, you glanced over. There was a broad-shouldered, standing by a bench, holding a phone that looked like it had lost a fight with a sledgehammer.

It took you a second to process, but when you did, the recognition hit.

“Oh, it’s you again!” you blurted out, your mouth moving faster than your brain.

He looked up, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. “Yeah, it’s me again,” he said flatly, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke by orchestrating our third meeting.

“What happened?” you asked, biting back a grin as you nodded toward the carnage in his hand. “I heard something break.”

He sighed, holding up the mangled device. “My phone. It fell while I was working out, and I didn’t see it. Then the dumbbell… well, the dumbbell saw it.”

That was all it took for you to lose it. You laughed, clutching your stomach as his expression shifted from annoyed to downright offended.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked sharply, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry!” you managed to say between giggles. “But how do you not notice your phone on the floor? Were you that focused?”

“It was an accident!” he shot back, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t exactly planning to obliterate my phone today.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, holding up your hands in surrender, though the grin stayed firmly in place. “What’s your plan now? Or are you stuck in this gym forever?”

He looked at his watch. “I’ll figure it out. I can call my secretary through this,” he said, tapping the screen.

“Wait,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “I’ll help you out.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll drive you,” you offered, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I still owe you one from the café incident, remember?”

For a moment, he looked skeptical. “You? Drive me?”

“Yes, me. I’m perfectly capable of driving, thank you very much,” you shot back, dramatically rolling your eyes. “Unless, of course, you would d rather sit here like a helpless damsel waiting for your secretary to swoop in and save you.”

He let out a reluctant sigh, finally both of you stepping toward the black Tesla.

“Nice ride,” he remarked casually. You snorted. If only he knew.

As you unlocked the doors, your eyes betrayed you for a moment, flickering toward him. He was the epitome of effortless cool—lean but undeniably sculpted, the kind of build that spoke of hours at the gym but never looked overdone. His plain black tank top clung to his shoulders, revealing toned arms and just a teasing glimpse of a tattoo curling around his bicep. The joggers he wore hung low on his hips, paired with sneakers that looked both practical and trendy. His hair was tousled in that perfect I woke up like this way, and the faint glint of a lip piercing added an edge that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.

“You know, if you’re going to stare, at least make it subtle,” his voice broke through your thoughts, his lips tugging into an amused smirk.

You blinked, heat creeping up your neck. “I wasn’t—” I started, but his raised eyebrow silenced me.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “So, do I pass your inspection?”

“Inspection?” you scoffed, regaining your composure. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled as he slid into the passenger seat, leaving you muttering under your breath as you got behind the wheel. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly smug and good-looking?

Desperate to change the subject, you asked, “Anyway, do you want breakfast? My treat.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “Breakfast? With you?”

“Relax,” you said with a laugh. “I’m not proposing or anything. It’s just food. You eat, don’t you?”

He hesitated, his expression a mix of skepticism and mild intrigue. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But only because I don’t have a better option.”

By the time you pulled up to the restaurant, he still seemed wary, like he couldn’t quite figure out if you were serious or setting him up for something. But as you both stepped inside, you noticed him sneaking a glance at you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as bad as he would thought it would be.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, with a soft golden glow from the lights and a gentle hum of chatter in the background. You both sat across from each other, separated by what felt like an ocean of awkward silence. You buried your nose in the menu, pretending to deliberate over your choices, but really just trying to distract yourself from his presence, which seemed to take up way more space than it should.

Once the waiter took our orders, the quiet felt unbearable. You swirled the straw in your glass like it was the most fascinating thing in the world and finally broke the silence. “So… are you, like, the CEO of your company or something?”

He raised an eyebrow, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” you said a little too quickly, feeling my cheeks heat. “Just making conversation.”

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that’s almost more of an exhale. “Not very subtle, are you?”

Both of you started eating then he suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowing at your phone case. “Wait a minute… is that Gojo?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, why?”

He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “You watch that anime?

“Do I not look like someone who would watch anime?”

“Well, you don’t exactly give off weeb vibes.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Excuse me, I’m a proud fan of Gojo Satoru. Who wouldn’t be?”

His face lit up. “No way. Gojo’s my favorite too.”

“Of course, he’s everyone’s favorite,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “But don’t even start about his… you know…”

“Death?” he finished, wincing. “Yeah, that wrecked me. Don’t remind me.”

You spent a solid ten minutes geeking out over our shared love for the character, bouncing theories off each other like you both known each other for years. It was so ridiculous, but for once, the awkward tension melted away.

“See?” you said, grinning. “I’m not that bad.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I never said you were bad. Just… unexpected.”

“Unexpected? Like when I tried to flirt with you that night?” you teased him. “And you took it the wrong way?”

His eyes widened, caught off guard. For a moment, it felt like the air between shifted, but before you could process it, he cleared his throat.

“Hey, about that night…” His tone softened, and his gaze dropped to the table. “I wanted to apologize. I wasn’t exactly… polite.”

You blinked. “Wait, you’re apologizing? Like, a real apology?”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah, I was having a bad day.”

Curiosity got the better of you. “What kind of bad day makes you snap at random strangers?”

He hesitated, fidgeting with his fork.

Sensing his discomfort, you leaned back, trying to ease the tension. “You don’t have to answer. I mean, we’re not exactly close or anything.”

For a moment, you thought he might dodge the question, but then he sighed. “My dad’s been pressuring me to settle down. You know, get serious, date someone, think about marriage.”

That threw you for a loop. “Wait, what? You’re Jungkook—the Jeon Jungkook. Aren’t you supposed to be, like, the king of eligible bachelors or something? I mean… don’t you have a line of people falling at your feet?”

He laughed, a low, self-deprecating sound. “You think, so? But the truth is, I do… mess around, sure, but nothing serious. It’s not exactly what my dad wants to hear.”

"You're bluffing," you stared at him, genuinely surprised. “So… you’re telling me all those rumors about you sleeping around are true?”

“Somewhat true,” he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. “But they’re exaggerated. Not that it matters, though. My dad doesn’t care about the details—he just wants results.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “Wow. And here I was thinking you were out there breaking hearts left and right. Turns out, you’re just another guy dealing with family drama.”

“Guess we all have our struggles,” he said.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a small sigh. “You know, I get it. All my friends are pairing up, getting engaged, or having babies, and here I am... still single. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”

He tilted his head, his expression softening in a way that made my heart skip just a little. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “You’re just waiting for the right person. Life isn’t a race, you know? Everyone’s clock is different.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Wow, that’s... surprisingly profound coming from you.”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I have layers, you know. Like an onion.”

You snorted. “Well, thanks. But really, I appreciate it.”

“I think you’re doing just fine. No one has it all figured out—not even me.”

“Oh, trust me, that part was obvious,” you teased, earning a laugh from him.

You swirled your nearly-empty glass of water, feeling a bit more comfortable now.

“You know, I think we might have potentially be friends if our first impressions of each other weren’t so... well, awful.”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Yeah, maybe. But then again, where’s the fun in starting off on good terms?”

“Touché,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed until the waiter cleared his throat, his third time checking in on us.

“Oh wow,” you said, glancing at the time. “We’ve been here for over an hour. That’s, uh, new.”

He looked just as surprised. “Guess we’re better at this talking thing than I thought.”

As both of you left the restaurant, the crisp morning air hit you, and he glanced at his watch. “My secretary’s on the way. Thanks for the ride and breakfast, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” you said, waving it off. “Consider it payback for the café incident, you know”

As his car pulled up, he paused and glanced back at you. “This was... nice. Surprisingly nice, actually.”

“Agreed,” you said with a grin. “You’re not as big of a jerk as I thought.”

“And you’re not as... well, annoying as I first assumed,” he shot back, his lips curling into a teasing smile.

“Oh, I’m absolutely annoying. Just not to you. Yet.”

He chuckled, opening the car door. “See you when I see you.”

“Or see you never,” you teased, crossing your arms.

He smirked before stepping inside. You watched as his car disappeared down the street, feeling an odd mix of amusement and curiosity swirling in your chest. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what you expected—but something told you it wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

It was the weekend, and Jimin’s birthday had finally arrived. You had spent all morning preparing, carefully selecting the perfect dress a chic yet comfortable outfit that struck just the right balance between effortless and elegant. Jimin had assured you that one of his drivers would pick you up, so you didn’t have to worry about transportation. Classic Jimin, always taking care of everything.

The car pulled up to the dock where you were all supposed to gather before boarding the yacht. The venue was buzzing with an understated elegance soft lights twinkling above, the gentle murmur of waves against the pier, and a cluster of well-dressed guests milling about. Among them, you spotted Hoseok chatting animatedly with his girlfriend. As always, Hoseok radiated charm, while his girlfriend was effortlessly stunning, perfectly complementing his energy.

You also noticed Taehyung, one of Jimin’s close friends. You weren’t exactly close, but you had met a few times at events. With his striking features and magnetic aura, Taehyung always managed to make his presence known without even trying.

You decided to find Jimin to wish him a happy birthday. However, as you approached, you noticed him pacing near the edge of the dock, phone pressed to his ear, his expression a mix of frustration and exasperation. His voice carried easily over the sound of the water.

"Dude, where are you? You’re the only one not here!” Jimin said, his tone sharp but laced with concern. There was a pause, presumably while the person on the other end responded, and then Jimin huffed.

“I swear, I’m gonna tell your mom about this, and she’ll whoop your ass for bailing on my party,” he threatened, though there was an amused edge to his voice. “You’re such a workaholic. Dude, you need to relax for once in your life.”

With that, he ended the call, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair before noticing you standing nearby.

“Oh, hey! Happy birthday Jimin!” you greeted, you stepped closer to hug him. His frustration melted away into his signature warm smile.

“Just an old friend giving me little trouble, something like that,” he said with a sigh, before flashing a grin. “But enough about that. You look amazing. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you replied. “Now, you better enjoy your night—it’s your birthday, after all.”

“Working on it,” he said with a laugh before you parted ways.

You wandered back toward Hoseok and his girlfriend, joining their lively conversation about the upcoming festivities. Taehyung had drifted into another group, his dry wit adding a humorous edge to the chatter. The minutes passed quickly, and before you knew it, the yacht began to move. The gentle rocking of the boat, paired with the sparkling city lights fading into the distance, set the perfect tone for what promised to be an unforgettable night.

Jungkook leaned back in his office chair, running a hand through his already-messy hair. His desk was cluttered with files, reports, and his laptop—remnants of a day that seemed to stretch forever. He felt a pang of guilt knowing he would be late to Jimin’s party. Jimin wasn’t just any friend; their bond went way back to childhood, forged through their parents’ business ties and countless summers spent together. Yet here he was, always caught up in work, unable to prioritize his personal life. His mother’s nagging voice echoed in his head: "You should spend more time with your friends. Life isn’t all about work, Jungkook."

The guilt doubled when Jimin called earlier, threatening to tattle to his mom if he didn’t show up. Jungkook could almost hear the smirk in Jimin’s voice. With a resigned sigh, Jungkook finally wrapped up his work and rummaged through his closet. He settled on a crisp white shirt, black slacks, and a sleek blazer that gave off an effortless yet polished vibe. After all, he couldn’t turn up to a yacht party looking like he just crawled out of a spreadsheet.

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook arrived at the dock just as the yacht began to drift away. The warm glow of lights from the boat reflected off the water, and the sound of laughter and music carried across the night air. He stepped on board, quickly spotting Jimin near the bar.

“Finally!” Jimin exclaimed, pulling Jungkook into a brief hug. “I was about to call your mom again.”

“Don’t start,” Jungkook replied, smirking. “Work ran late.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but grinned. “Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters. Come on, let's have fun.”

The two talked for a while, catching up on life and sharing stories. Despite Jimin’s attempts to nudge him toward mingling, Jungkook remained firmly rooted in the comfort of familiarity, sticking close to Jimin and occasionally chatting with Taehyung.

Meanwhile, you found yourself in a different dilemma. After spending most of the evening with Hoseok and his girlfriend, the couple’s dynamic started to feel a bit suffocating. As much as you adored Hoseok, third-wheeling wasn’t exactly your idea of fun. Deciding you needed some air, you excused yourself and wandered toward the deck, the cool breeze a welcome escape from the noise and chatter.

The yacht had stopped, its anchor dropped in a calm, picturesque spot surrounded by glittering city lights on the horizon. The music from inside was still audible but muffled, creating an oddly serene atmosphere.

As you leaned against the railing, staring out at the water, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned your head slightly and froze.

There he was—Jungkook.

The man who had somehow become a recurring character in your life. His presence was almost magnetic, his sharp features softened by the moonlight. He caught sight of you and hesitated for a moment before walking closer.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice low but carrying easily over the quiet.

You raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same about you. Late to the party?”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, work. As usual.”

You nodded, not entirely surprised. “Let me guess—you’re one of Jimin’s childhood friends?”

“Guilty,” he admitted, leaning on the railing beside you. “And you? How do you know him?”

“Hoseok introduced us,” you replied. “He’s the reason I’m here tonight. Well, that and Jimin being very convincing.”

He smirked. “Sounds about right. Jimin’s good at getting what he wants.”

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment, the distant hum of music blending with the gentle lapping of waves. The two of you weren’t exactly friends, but there was something strangely natural about standing there together.

He turned his head, his gaze meeting yours. “You’re not exactly blending into the crowd yourself. What are you doing out here?”

You hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “Third-wheeling gets old fast. Thought I would escape for a bit.”

“Fair enough,” he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Guess we’re both out of place here.”

The night air was cool and crisp as you both leaned against the railings on the quieter side of the yacht. The party was still in full swing on the other side, music and laughter drifting faintly in the background, but here, it felt like you had the world to yourselves. The stars above shimmered in the dark sky, reflected perfectly in the calm water below.

“I just realized,” you said, breaking the peaceful silence, “this is the fourth time we’ve bumped into each other. Is the universe trying to tell us something?”

Jungkook glanced at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Like what?”

You grinned, the words tumbling out before you could stop yourself. “That maybe I’m the girl you’ve been waiting for.”

His eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard. “Wow, you don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, laughing softly. “Why should I? Life’s too short for games.” You hesitated for a moment, then confessed, “Besides, I’ve been thinking about you. A lot more than I probably should.”

Jungkook blinked, clearly trying to process what you’d just said. “You’re… straightforward.”

You smirked, playfully nudging his arm. “And you’re stating the obvious. Look, all I’m saying is, I don’t mind hanging out with you. You’re nice to be around.”

What you didn’t know was that Jungkook’s mind was a swirl of thoughts. He wasn’t going to admit it outright, but you’d been on his mind too. Something about you had stayed with him—the way you spoke your mind, the easy banter, and the way you didn’t seem fazed by who he was.

But before he could respond, you straightened up abruptly, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you had just been. “Okay, wow, that was a lot. I’m blaming the alcohol I had earlier,” you muttered, your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

You took a step back, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but the slight sway of the yacht threw you off balance. Your foot slipped, and for a heart-stopping moment, you teetered on the edge.

“Whoa!” Jungkook reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and pulling you back just in time.

“Thanks,” you managed, breathless and slightly shaken.

But before either of you could regain your footing, the yacht gave a sudden, unexpected lurch. It all happened in slow motion.

One moment, you were staring at him, his hand still gripping your arm; the next, both of you were tumbling over the railing. The cold water hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs as you splashed into the dark ocean.

The cold, salty water surrounded you as you struggled to catch your breath, disoriented from the fall. But before panic could fully set in, you felt a strong, reassuring presence beside you. Jungkook's hand reached out, and his voice was calm but urgent.

"Are you okay?" His eyes searched yours, his face just inches from yours, his brows furrowed in concern.

You blinked, feeling a sudden rush of warmth in your chest despite the chill of the water. "I-uh, I am not really a good swimmer," you confessed, your voice shaky.

Jungkook didn't miss a beat. His hand gripped your arm, his touch firm but gentle. "It's okay. Just stay calm. Hold on to me," he instructed, his tone steady, like he had done this a hundred times before. You felt safe.

And for the first time, you were so close to him- closer than you ever thought possible. His face was so... beautiful. The rainwater trickled down his sharp jawline, the moonlight making his features look even more defined. His dark hair, now wet and tousled, framed his face perfectly.

You couldn't help but stare, the way his piercing glinted in the dim light making him look even more striking. How could someone look so perfect, so effortlessly attractive? With a body that was both strong and lean, and that face-it was hard to believe he was actually single. You couldn't stop yourself from admiring how impossibly hot he looked, even with water dripping from his face.

You found yourself almost mesmerized by his lips- those full, kissable lips. Your thoughts started to wander, and before you could stop yourself, you asked the question that had been swirling in your mind.

"Can I kiss you?"

There was a brief pause, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he gave you a small, playful smile. But before you could process it, his lips were on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, testing the waters, so to speak. But then, something shifted. The chemistry that had been building between you two since the first moment you met exploded in an instant.

The kiss deepened, and neither of you hesitated. The sound of the waves lapping against the yacht, the cool water surrounding you, all faded into the background. All that mattered was the heat of his lips against yours, the way he pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together in the water.

And it wasn't just you who had been thinking about this. He had been wanting this, too. The way you smiled at him, the way you weren't afraid to speak your mind-it had kept him awake at night, wondering what it would be like to kiss you.

Now that you were here, tangled in the water, neither of you wanted to pull away. Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him, the connection between you both undeniable, magnetic. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely in sync.

It was messy, it was raw, but it was perfect. Just the two of you, lost in the moment.

He pulled back slightly, both of you still floating in the water. His eyes held a certain intensity, the kind of look that could make your heart race.

"You know," he began, his voice surprisingly soft despite the wild rush of emotions, "I've been thinking about you a lot too. More than I care to admit."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart fluttering. The confession was unexpected, yet somehow not. Maybe you’d both been feeling this pull, this magnetic force drawing you closer, even without saying it out loud.

"So, what now?" You smirked, the water now lapping against your skin as you held onto him. "I'm waiting."

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. "Waiting for what?" he asked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

"Duh," you laughed softly, your voice teasing. "Waiting for you to ask me out."

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smirk, his laughter warm and unguarded. “I don’t even know your full name,” he shot back, tilting his head slightly.

"You don’t need to know my entire life story to ask me out, Mr. Jeon," you quipped, your tone light but daring. “For the record, I’m Y/N L/N.”

He let out a low chuckle, the kind that sent warmth rushing through you despite the chilly water. “Oh, is that how it works?” he said, his voice dipping, playful yet sincere. “Alright then, Ms. Y/N L/N—can I take you out?”

Your heart stuttered, though you covered it with a grin, you said with exaggerated relief. "Yes, you can.”

You both chuckled, the sound echoing into the night air. It felt so natural, this banter, this undeniable chemistry between you.

“I can’t believe this. Of all the things that could happen…”

“You had to save me, and then we both fell into the ocean,” you finished, chuckling despite yourself.

“Well, if the universe really is giving us signs, it’s not being subtle,” he teased, his dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“Yeah, no kidding,” you said, grinning.

Before the moment could stretch any further, you both heard a loud shout from above.

"Y/N! Jungkook! Are you two alright?!"

It was Jimin's voice, and it snapped you both back to reality. Jungkook rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath.

"Looks like we’ve got an audience," he muttered, before holding onto you tighter.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

As the yacht crew rushed to rescue you, the gravity of the moment settled in.

You had no idea where this unexpected connection might take you, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it seemed like you would stumbled upon something genuine. Something real. Maybe—just maybe—it was love. Against all odds, in the unlikeliest of circumstances, you both found love in a hopeless place.

end.

#jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook romance #jungkook and reader #Spotify

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sh4nksslvt · 2 months ago

Text

Sugar & Spite

Shared silences, reluctant teamwork, and one very accidental merienda — things are slowly shifting between you and Katakuri, whether you like it or not.

(CH 1/3) (CH 2/3) (CH 3/3)

katakuri x fem!reader a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc tags: sfw, arrange marriage, enemies to lovers typeshi(?), fluff warnings: poorly written, ooc maybe idk words count: 767

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Married life, for all its dramatics, was remarkably uneventful.

You trained. He trained.

You ate. He ate — alone.

You slept on opposite sides of the suite, a whole couch separating your twin futons like it were a chasm made of disdain and mutual discomfort.

Still, the quiet had begun to change.

Not soften. Just… fill with different things.

You noticed it when you trained together.

At first, Katakuri wouldn’t spar with you — only watched from the sidelines with crossed arms and a face carved from stone.

But one morning, without a word, he stepped into the ring and beckoned.

You raised a brow. “You sure? Wouldn’t want to chip your perfect reputation.”

“Try not to die,” was all he said.

You lunged.

The fight lasted minutes. Sharp. Calculated. Brutal. Neither of you held back — not out of aggression, but something more primal. Something like curiosity. Respect hidden under heavy layers of sarcasm.

He pinned you once.

You flipped him once.

And by the time you both were catching your breath, you realized… this was the first time you’d looked him in the eye without wanting to throw a plate at his face.

It happened again the next day. And the next.

Soon, the guards were placing bets.

Another shift came during a mission.

You were sent together to oversee a transport of rare ingredients for Big Mom’s banquet — the sort of job usually given to siblings who worked well together.

You were not those siblings.

But despite the chilly atmosphere, the operation was smooth. Efficient. Maybe even too efficient, because when the job ended early, you found yourself in a quiet café at the edge of Totto Land.

Sharing tea.

“You always this quiet when not throwing punches?” you asked.

Katakuri sipped. “You always this nosy when not polishing your weapon?”

You snorted. “Fair.”

Silence. Then:

“…You’re not bad in the field.”

You blinked.

“…You too,” you replied cautiously, like the words were delicate glass.

Then, dryly: “Though you’re kind of a pain.”

His mouth twitched.

Was that a smile?

You blinked and looked away.

Nah. Must’ve been the wind.

It happened the next afternoon.

You came back to the estate early, your footsteps light, mind still buzzing from the strange calm that had started forming between you two. You hadn’t seen Katakuri since morning. Probably training. Or brooding.

You turned the corner of the west hall and—

Crunch.

You froze.

There he was.

Not in battle stance. Not dressed for war.

Just… sitting under the shade of a sugar apple tree in the inner garden, cross-legged on a blanket, a tall pile of donuts beside him.

Mouth uncovered.

Eyes closed.

Chewing slowly, almost in bliss, like he was savoring the flavor with his whole soul.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then, without thinking, your boot tapped a rock.

His head snapped toward you.

Time stopped.

You met his eyes. His real ones. Clear, sharp — and full of horror.

He reached for his scarf too late.

“You—” he started, standing up so quickly the plate of donuts nearly flipped. “You weren’t supposed to—”

“What, see you enjoying your afternoon snacks?” you said slowly.

His face hardened. “Don’t mock me.”

You crossed your arms. “Why would I mock you?”

“You’re going to tell the others. Or laugh. Or—”

You tilted your head. “You’re kinda handsome.”

He froze.

“What?”

“I said,” you repeated, unfazed, “you’re kinda handsome.”

“You—”

“Don’t get cocky. I said kinda.”

He gaped at you like you’d grown a second head. You, in turn, gave him a blank stare as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Then added, just to twist the knife: “Your mouth is a little big, though.”

“You—!!”

You smirked, turning to walk away.

“Wait.”

His voice was quieter now. Not angry. Confused. Almost… vulnerable.

You turned back.

He looked at you like you were a puzzle with missing pieces. Like he didn’t understand why you weren’t disgusted. Why you weren’t laughing.

“You’re not gonna say anything?”

You shrugged. “Not my business. But hey—”

You tossed a donut from his plate into the air, caught it, and took a bite.

“—thanks for the snack.”

He stared.

You winked.

And then left him there, standing under the tree, mouth still slightly agape, eyes tracking the place where you’d stood.

That night, for the first time, you found a small box of freshly made donuts placed carefully on your side of the suite.

No note.

Just a silent offering.

You smiled faintly and popped one into your mouth.

Maybe this marriage wouldn’t be so cold after all.

#one piece #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #fluff #idk man #op katakuri #charlotte katakuri #katakuri one piece #katakuri x reader #idk what im doing

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novaursa · 11 months ago

Text

Between the Flames (Part 2)

- Summary: Gwayne and you rekindle your flame as a celebratory hunt proceeds.

- Pairing: Gwayne Hightower/targ!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and is younger sister of Rhaenyra. If you want to read all the parts in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top. The timeframe of events in both parts 1 and 2 is unspecified, place the plot wherever you wish it in your imagination.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 812

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The first light of dawn creeps into the camp as you step out of your tent. The air is crisp with the chill of morning, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders, taking in the stillness that clings to this early hour. The fires from last night’s revelries are mere embers now, and the camp is draped in a quiet so deep it feels like the world holds its breath.

Your eyes sweep over the clearing, searching for a familiar face, but Rhaenyra is nowhere to be found. Of course she’s not. Your sister has likely slipped away with Ser Criston Cole, her sworn shield, to chase whatever solitude she can grasp in this suffocating charade. Rhaenyra has always despised these hunts, the feasts, the endless parade of lords fawning over her as if she’s a prize mare. You sympathize with her distaste, but unlike her, you’ve remained tethered to these duties out of some misguided sense of loyalty to your father and the memory of your late mother, Queen Aemma.

A flutter of resentment stirs in your chest. You’ve followed the rules for so long, always the dutiful daughter, watching as your sister rides free while you remain in the gilded cage of expectations. Yet yesterday, when Gwayne Hightower had found you in the crowd of nobles and knights, that sense of duty had wavered for the first time in years. His presence had unraveled something in you, a thread of emotions carefully tucked away since your father denied him your hand. His smile was the same, a little boyish even after all this time, and his eyes held that familiar warmth as they met yours.

The memories from years ago flood back, his hand brushing against yours, the quiet exchanges between dances, lingers in your mind like the aftertaste of wine. You had long buried those feelings, or so you thought. Yet now, in the stillness of dawn, all you can think about is how his presence stirs a longing you’ve tried to forget.

For once, you allow yourself to act on impulse.

You move with a sudden resolve, heading towards the small paddock where the horses are tethered. Your chest tightens as you glance around, half-expecting someone to stop you. You see Ser Harrold Westerling, his gray hair wild with sleep, standing at the edge of the camp. He’s too far away to notice you yet, still groggy and unconcerned as he yawns and stretches.

Before he can spot you, you make your way to your mare, a beautiful dappled chestnut with a silky black mane. She snorts softly in greeting, stamping the ground with her hoof. You pat her neck, her coat warm and smooth beneath your gloved hand. "We’re going to do something foolish, my sweet girl," you whisper, a half-smile playing on your lips.

With practiced ease, you mount the mare, settling into the saddle. The forest looms ahead, its dark arms open and inviting, promising the kind of freedom you’ve denied yourself for too long. A breathless excitement quickens in your chest as you lean forward, giving your mare a gentle nudge. She responds instantly, trotting lightly across the camp, her hooves barely making a sound on the soft earth.

"Princess!" Ser Harrold’s voice rings out, sharp with alarm, but you’re already gone. The wind rushes against your face as you break into a gallop, the camp shrinking behind you as the trees blur past. The thrill of disobedience courses through your veins, each beat of your heart in time with the rhythm of your mare’s stride.

The forest is alive with the songs of morning birds and the rustling of leaves. Sunlight dapples through the canopy above, casting golden patterns on the forest floor. For a moment, you let out a breathless laugh, the sheer joy of riding unbound filling you with a wild sense of elation. You understand now, at least in part, why Rhaenyra flees these events; there’s something liberating in leaving behind expectations, even if only for a short while.

You slow your pace once you’re deep within the woods, guiding your mare along a familiar narrow trail framed by ferns and moss-covered stones until you reach an edge of a small brook. The peace of the forest wraps around you like a soothing balm. Here, away from prying eyes, from duties and titles, you can simply be.

But your thoughts inevitably return to Gwayne. You remember the way he looked at you last night, the warmth in his eyes tinged with something deeper. You can still hear his voice in your head, low and intimate as he leaned in close during the dance.

“It has been too long, Y/N,” he had said softly, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “I barely recognized you the day before… though you’ve grown only more beautiful.”

A faint blush warms your cheeks at the memory. For years, you had pushed thoughts of him aside, thinking them childish fancies, a promise he couldn't keep, but his presence has reignited a spark that refuses to be smothered.

Lost in thought, you nearly miss the sound of hooves approaching from another direction. Your mare’s ears prick forward, alert, and you turn your head just in time to see a rider emerging from between the trees. The sunlight catches on silver armor trimmed with green—Gwayne.

Gwayne Hightower woke with the first rays of dawn creeping through the canvas of his tent, the dim light casting long shadows across his face. Sleep had been restless and fleeting; the events of the previous night still clung to his mind like a shroud. He could still feel the weight of Daemon Targaryen’s gaze—a sharp, cutting thing that held a silent promise of retribution. Daemon had watched them dance, his eyes like twin embers, waiting for any excuse to ignite into something more dangerous.

But Gwayne hadn’t cared. Not then, and certainly not now.

All that mattered was you.

He could still feel the ghost of your hand in his, the way your touch sent a spark straight through him. You had tried to maintain a careful distance, the practiced grace of a princess who had long learned to hide her heart behind a veil of propriety. But Gwayne knew you better than that. He knew the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the way your voice dropped ever so slightly when you said his name. You could hide your emotions from most, but never from him.

He’d known you since you were both children, and in all those years, nothing had truly changed between you. Even now, after all the time and distance, after the layers of courtly masks, you were still the same girl who had stolen his heart. And he would not—could not—let anyone take you away from him. Not Daemon, not even your father. The King could deny him the match all he wished, but it was a hollow decree. He knew, deep down, that you were his. You always had been, from the moment you’d shared your secrets and desires with him years ago, in the quiet, hidden corners of the Red Keep.

And when he had seen Daemon’s eyes on you, the dragon’s possessiveness simmering beneath the surface, Gwayne had only felt his resolve harden. Daemon could try to intimidate him all he liked, but he would never understand that what bound you to Gwayne was deeper than mere attraction or lust. It was years of unspoken promises, of shared dreams and whispered hopes, of a love that had grown in the shadows of duty and expectation.

Gwayne exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face as he pushed himself out of bed. The air was crisp, the early morning dew clinging to the grass as he dressed quickly in his riding leathers. His mind drifted back to the last time he had truly held you, before politics and power had pushed you both into your separate roles. Back then, you’d been freer, more open, before the weight of a princess’s crown settled on your brow. And yet, last night, in those fleeting moments when your eyes met his, he saw a glimpse of that girl again. The one who had wanted more than what was being offered to her.

He knew you would not remain at camp long today. You despised these hunts as much as Rhaenyra did, though you bore it more quietly. And as if the gods themselves sought to reward his patience, his instincts proved correct when he caught sight of you slipping away, mounting your horse with a grace and ease born of years of practice. Ser Harrold’s groggy warning echoed across the clearing, but you were already gone, disappearing into the forest with the wind in your hair.

Gwayne’s heart leapt in his chest, a sense of urgency and determination driving him into motion. He wasted no time, striding swiftly toward his own horse, a powerful black stallion bred for speed and endurance. He swung into the saddle with practiced ease, feeling the familiar weight of the reins in his hands. Without hesitation, he urged his horse forward, following the path you had taken into the woods.

The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the forest floor. Gwayne’s focus narrowed, his gaze trained on the faint trail you left behind—hoofprints in the soft earth, the occasional disturbed branch. He knew where you were headed; it was the same place you always sought when you needed to escape the world, a secluded glade hidden deep within these woods.

The sound of rushing wind and the rhythmic thudding of hooves filled his ears as he pushed his stallion harder, driven by a mixture of anticipation and longing. Every beat of his heart felt in tune with the ride, each breath drawing him closer to you. He couldn’t help but smile as he imagined the look on your face when he found you—the mix of surprise and exasperation that you could never fully hide, tinged with that unmistakable affection that lingered in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

Finally, the trees parted, revealing a clearing bathed in soft morning light. And there you were, seated on your mare at the edge of a small brook, the sound of trickling water a soothing backdrop to the scene. The sight of you, framed by the dappled sunlight, took his breath away for a moment. You were like a vision from a dream, your hair catching the golden rays as you gazed thoughtfully at the water. The serenity of the moment only heightened his determination to be by your side.

You must have sensed him approaching, for you turned just as he entered the clearing. The surprise in your eyes was quickly replaced by a familiar warmth, though you tried to maintain a composed expression. “And here I thought I’d managed to escape everyone,” you said with a hint of teasing in your voice.

Gwayne brought his horse to a stop beside yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Did you truly think you could slip away from me so easily, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and edged with amusement. “You should know by now that I would follow you anywhere.”

Your expression softened at that, and for a moment, the carefully maintained walls you kept around yourself faltered. “And what brings you chasing after me, Ser Gwayne?” you asked quietly, your gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. “Surely you have other duties to attend to, other places to be.”

He leaned forward slightly in the saddle, his eyes never leaving yours. “I have no duty more important than being where you are,” he replied, the words simple but weighted with meaning. “No place I would rather be than at your side.”

You looked away, as if trying to hide the emotions that flickered across your face, but Gwayne knew you too well. He could see the struggle within you, the war between obligation and the desires you kept buried. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours where it rested on the reins. “You don’t have to hide from me, Y/N,” he said softly. “Not here. Not now.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the reins as if grounding yourself. “And what if hiding is all I have left?” you whispered, a note of vulnerability slipping into your voice. “What if it’s the only way I can survive this game we’re all trapped in?”

Gwayne’s expression hardened with resolve. “You’re more than what they want to make you. More than a pawn in this endless game of power. You’re you—the woman I’ve loved since we were children, the one I would fight for, no matter the cost.”

You met his gaze then, something in your eyes softening. The walls you’d built around yourself cracked, if only for a moment, and Gwayne saw the woman beneath—the one who wanted more than duty and expectation, the one who longed for freedom, for love, for something real.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmured, a faint smile touching your lips. “Maybe I’m tired of hiding.”

Gwayne’s heart swelled with hope, with the belief that maybe, just maybe, you were ready to stop running from what you both knew had always been there between you. He leaned closer, his voice a gentle whisper. “Then let’s take this moment for ourselves. Forget the world outside, forget the dragons and the thrones and the knives hidden in every smile. Let’s just… be.”

For a long moment, the world held its breath as you considered his words. Then, slowly, you nodded, the tension easing from your shoulders. “For a little while,” you agreed, your voice soft, a hint of relief in your tone.

And so, you rode together through the sun-dappled forest, leaving behind the weight of duty and the ever-watchful eyes of the court. In this fleeting moment, there was no war of crowns or claims, no dragons or scheming lords—only the two of you, and the promise of something that could be, if only you dared to reach for it.

In the quiet sanctuary of the forest, with nothing but the rustling leaves and distant birdsong to bear witness, you and Gwayne finally dismount from your horses. The sun has climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm, golden light across the clearing. There’s a silence between you—charged, electric—heavy with all the unspoken words and emotions you’ve held back for years. The bond you thought had frayed with time is alive once more, vibrant and undeniable.

You both step closer, drawn together by a force that feels as natural as breathing. Gwayne’s eyes are locked on yours, his gaze intense, full of longing and a possessive tenderness that makes your pulse quicken. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in the small space between your bodies crackling like a fire about to be kindled.

His hand comes up, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip with a reverence that sends shivers down your spine. “I’ve missed this,” he whispers, his voice low and hoarse with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

You close your eyes briefly, savoring the feel of his touch, the way it melts away the years of separation, the walls you’ve built to protect yourself. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmur, though there’s no conviction in your words, only a breathless longing. The ache in your chest is one you’ve carried for so long, buried deep beneath the layers of duty and decorum. But now, with Gwayne so close, it’s impossible to deny how much you want this—want him.

His thumb tilts your chin up, and you meet his gaze once more. “Perhaps we shouldn’t,” he agrees, his voice soft but edged with determination. “But I won’t let that stop me. Not anymore. I won’t let anything keep us apart again.”

And with that, the dam finally breaks. Your lips crash together in a kiss that’s searing, urgent, full of years’ worth of pent-up desire and emotions. There’s no hesitation, no holding back. The kiss is fierce, almost desperate, as if you’re both trying to make up for every lost moment, every day you spent apart. His hands are on you, one tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist with a possessiveness that makes you gasp against his mouth.

Your hands roam over his chest, fingers fumbling with the ties of his tunic, the urgency mirrored in the way he pulls at the laces of your dress. Every touch is fevered, every caress driven by the need to feel skin against skin. Clothes are shed with haste, your lips barely parting even as you struggle to rid yourselves of the barriers between you. His breath is hot against your neck, lips trailing down your throat as he shrugs off the last of his garments. Your own dress falls away, pooling at your feet, leaving you both exposed to the cool morning air—but the heat between your bodies is enough to chase away the chill.

There’s no room for words now, only the rhythm of your breaths, the thrum of your heartbeats in perfect harmony. He draws you close, lifting you with ease as your legs wrap around his waist, your bodies fitting together as if they were made to do so. The first touch of him inside you is a heady rush, a mix of pleasure and familiarity that sends a shudder through you both. He moves with a gentle haste, his grip firm on your hips as he sinks into you fully, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

You cling to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back as your lips find his again in a kiss that’s all heat and hunger. The rhythm comes naturally, an instinctive dance that’s both achingly familiar and exhilaratingly new. Even after all the time that has passed, your bodies remember each other, falling into a perfect sync that leaves no space for doubt or regret.

His movements are steady but urgent, each thrust a declaration of the need that has burned between you for so long. Your moans mix with his, the sound of your shared pleasure filling the secluded clearing. There’s a raw intimacy in the way your bodies move together, every touch, every gasp a reaffirmation of what you’ve both held onto all these years. You can feel his heart pounding against yours, his breath ragged as he whispers your name, the sound of it like a prayer.

“Y/N,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

You don’t respond with words—there’s no need. The way your body arches into his, the way you tighten around him as pleasure builds in your core, says everything. You’re his, just as he’s yours, bound by a love that neither time nor distance could ever truly break.

The tension coils tighter with every thrust, every brush of his lips against your skin, until it’s too much to hold back. Your release washes over you in a wave of bliss, pulling a cry from your lips as you cling to him, every nerve alight with sensation. Gwayne follows you over the edge, a low groan escaping him as he buries his face in your neck, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

For a moment, the world seems to hold still. The forest fades away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace. Your breathing slows, and you feel Gwayne’s grip on you soften, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your back as he holds you close.

When he finally pulls back to look at you, there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your chest ache. “I’m never letting you go again,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a fierce kind of love. “Not for anything. Not for anyone.”

You reach up to cup his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I never wanted to be let go,” you confess, your voice a whisper. “I’ve only ever wanted this… us.”

In the silence that follows, there’s a peace that settles between you—an unspoken understanding that whatever lies ahead, you’ll face it together. For now, in this stolen moment, the world beyond the forest doesn’t matter. All that matters is the way your hearts beat in time, the bond between you rekindled and stronger than ever.

And in that quiet, sunlit clearing, you both allow yourselves to believe—if only for a little while—that the future might hold more than just duty and sacrifice. That it might hold a chance for the love you’ve both fought so long to protect.

Daemon Targaryen stood near the edge of the camp, eyes narrowed into slits as he watched you and Gwayne ride back into the clearing. The sight of you both—your hair disheveled, lips still slightly swollen from hurried kisses—made his blood boil. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles whitened, his jaw tightening as a cold fury settled into his bones. Gwayne’s smug look didn’t help; the Hightower knight sent him a knowing, defiant smirk as he rode past, one hand resting possessively on your waist. The message in his gaze was clear: I’ve won, and you know it.

Daemon’s lips curled into a sneer. Foolish boy, he thought darkly. You’ve no idea what you’re inviting.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what had transpired in the woods. He recognized the flushed skin, the barely concealed satisfaction on both your faces, the way your eyes avoided his as you dismounted. You carried yourself with that fire he adored—back straight, chin held high—but he could see through it. He could always see through you. There was anger beneath your proud exterior, frustration burning just as fiercely as his own.

As you handed the reins to a stable hand, Daemon moved with predatory grace, intercepting you before you could disappear into your tent. He grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not bruising, his eyes burning into yours.

“What were you doing?” he hissed, though it was more accusation than question. His voice was low, dangerously controlled, a seething threat simmering just below the surface.

You jerked your arm free, glaring up at him with barely concealed fury. “I could ask you the same, Uncle. Spying on me as if I’m one of your lackeys?” Your tone was sharp, dripping with defiance. You took a step closer, your voice lowering to a venomous whisper. “What right do you have to question me? You’ve made it clear what I am to you.”

The words cut him, though he’d never admit it. His eyes darkened further as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You were gone longer than a mere ride warrants, Princess. And you return with that Hightower pup, wearing a look that tells me everything I need to know.”

You bristled, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “And why do you care, Daemon? What difference does it make to you what I do or with whom?” Your voice wavered with barely restrained emotion—anger, frustration, and something more, something raw and wounded. “You never wanted me, not really. Not as anything more than a consolation prize because you couldn’t have her.”

Daemon’s gaze sharpened, the accusation hitting too close to home. He reached out, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Watch your tongue,” he growled, his voice laced with barely suppressed fury. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh, don’t I?” You yanked your chin from his grasp, your eyes flashing with contempt. “You think I haven’t noticed? You think I don’t see the way you look at her—my sister? The way you’ve always craved what you can’t have? You wanted Rhaenyra, not me. But Viserys wouldn’t allow it, wouldn’t let his precious heir fall into your clutches. So you settled for me instead, the lesser prize.”

The truth in your words stung more than Daemon cared to admit. His mind raced, fury and something far more dangerous swirling within him. You had never been lesser to him—never. But he had to grit his teeth against the admission. For a heartbeat, his anger faltered, replaced by a flicker of something deeper, something that threatened to expose him in a way he despised.

His grip loosened, but his gaze remained intense, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. “Is that what you think? That you’re second to her?” His voice was lower now, softer but no less dangerous. “You’ve always seen yourself as Rhaenyra’s shadow, haven’t you? But let me tell you something, Y/N—you have just as much fire as she does. Maybe more.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Words, Daemon. Just more of your pretty words. You think they’ll work on me after all this time?” Your tone was bitter, but there was a note of pain beneath it that you couldn’t quite hide.

His eyes hardened again, his intensity returning full force. “You are not some replacement,” he snapped, each word deliberate, almost vicious in its conviction. “You’re mine just as much as she could ever be. Perhaps Viserys keeps me from her because he fears what we could be together—but he gave me you because he thinks you’ll be easier to control. And perhaps, for once, he’s right.” His eyes bore into yours, daring you to deny it. “But don’t ever think that makes you lesser, Y/N. You’re every bit as valuable as she is—to me and to this cursed family.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of unspoken truths and old wounds. The tension was nearly unbearable, a volatile mixture of rage, passion, and something neither of you wanted to acknowledge aloud.

You glared at him, chest heaving as you fought to control your breathing. “You claim I’m yours, yet you push me away every time I get too close, every time I try to see beyond that mask of arrogance you wear. You want me just enough to keep me tethered, but never enough to make me truly believe it.”

Daemon’s expression softened just a fraction, the cruel edges giving way to something almost tender. He stepped closer, his thumb brushing your bottom lip, and his gaze softened, the fierceness replaced with an intensity that was somehow even more dangerous. “You’ve always seen through me, haven’t you?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s why you’re the one thing I can never let go of, no matter how much I try.”

You felt your breath hitch, the admission hanging in the air between you. For a moment, the storm in your chest subsided, replaced by the ache of knowing that no matter what you said, no matter how much you tried to fight it, a part of you would always be drawn to him—like a moth to a flame, even if it meant getting burned.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and the anger returned, raw and unfiltered. You pulled back from his touch, your voice tight with resolve. “I may be yours in your eyes, Daemon, but I refuse to be something you settle for. I’ll be more than just a placeholder for your desires.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and stormed toward your tent, leaving Daemon staring after you, a storm of conflicting emotions raging behind his eyes. He clenched his fists, every muscle in his body tense as he fought to rein in his temper. He had always believed he could control everything, bend the world to his will—but in this moment, watching you walk away, he was reminded that some things, some desires, were far beyond his grasp.

But as he stood there, alone in the clearing, a dark, determined smile tugged at the corners of his lips. If Gwayne Hightower thought he could claim you so easily, he was sorely mistaken. Daemon had lost too much already—he wouldn’t lose you too.

One way or another, you would see the truth: that no one could ever truly have you but him.

The final day of the hunt dawned with an oppressive sense of inevitability. The skies were overcast, a muted gray that reflected the tension simmering beneath the surface of the festivities. Lords and knights milled about the camp, preparing for the last chase, but the air was thick with unspoken rivalries and hidden agendas. For Daemon, it was more than just another hunt—it was the culmination of days of mounting frustration and a terror he refused to name, all centered around one person: you.

He had prided himself on control—control over his ambitions, his desires, his enemies. But you were slipping through his fingers, and it clawed at something primal within him. The sight of you laughing, exchanging warm smiles with Gwayne Hightower, had become unbearable. It wasn’t just anger that churned in his chest; it was fear. The fear of losing the one person who had managed to burrow past his defenses, the one thing he had convinced himself was his.

As the sun climbed higher, the hounds were readied, and the nobles began mounting their horses. Daemon’s eyes never left Gwayne, who was exchanging pleasantries with his sister, Alicent. The Hightower knight held himself with the same confident ease as always, his armor gleaming, his expression serene. But beneath that polished exterior, Daemon could sense a defiant edge, a silent challenge that sent a pulse of fury through him.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He swung himself onto his horse, cutting through the throng with a focused determination. The murmured conversations around the camp fell away as he approached Gwayne, who turned to meet him with a calm gaze, as if he had been expecting this confrontation.

“Ser Gwayne,” Daemon drawled, his tone laced with a false cordiality that didn’t reach his eyes. “It seems we find ourselves in each other’s company once more. How fortuitous.”

Gwayne’s expression didn’t waver. “Prince Daemon,” he replied smoothly, inclining his head in a respectful nod. “It’s always a pleasure to be in such esteemed company.”

The formalities hung in the air like a blade waiting to drop. Daemon leaned forward slightly in the saddle, his eyes narrowing, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Let’s not pretend, Hightower. You’ve been playing a dangerous game, and I can see right through it. You think you can steal away what belongs to me?”

Gwayne’s smile was subtle, infuriatingly calm. “I’ve stolen nothing, Your Grace. But perhaps what you think you own was never truly yours to begin with.”

Daemon’s hand clenched around the reins, his knuckles white. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed. “You’ve never understood what binds us—what we share. You think you can walk in, flash a few smiles, and she’ll forget everything?”

Gwayne’s expression hardened, the mask of politeness slipping away to reveal a fierceness that matched Daemon’s. “What binds you?” he echoed, his voice low and firm. “Do you mean the way you push her away, yet cling to her when it suits your pride? Or the way you try to control her, hoping that she’ll never see she deserves more than to be someone’s second choice?”

Daemon’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of rage and fear twisting inside him. Gwayne’s words cut too close to the truth, exposing the very thing he feared most. He had convinced himself that he was the one who understood you, who could offer you what no one else could. But the thought that he had lost you, that you had found something in Gwayne that he couldn’t offer, was a poison he couldn’t swallow.

His voice was a growl, low and venomous. “You think you’re so righteous, don’t you? Like you’re the hero in some ballad. But you’re nothing more than a lovesick fool, blinded by a girl who’s outgrown you. Do you really think she’ll choose you when all is said and done? You’re a Hightower—nothing more than a tool for your family’s ambitions.”

Gwayne’s eyes flashed with anger, his composure cracking just enough for Daemon to see the fire beneath. “And what are you, Daemon? The rogue prince, the discarded brother who can’t win his brother’s favor, who takes whatever scraps he’s offered because he’s too afraid to admit what he really wants?”

The words hit like a hammer. Daemon’s control snapped, and before he could stop himself, he spurred his horse forward, closing the distance between them until they were nearly nose to nose. His voice was a low snarl. “You know nothing about fear, Gwayne. You don’t know what it’s like to feel something slipping from your grasp, to see the one thing that keeps you from losing yourself slipping away. I would burn the world to keep her, and you’d be the first I’d cast into the fire.”

Gwayne’s gaze didn’t falter, but there was a flash of sympathy in his eyes that stoked Daemon’s fury even more. “That’s where you and I differ, Daemon,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with pity. “You believe in owning, controlling. But I believe in letting her be free, even if it means losing her. Because what she needs isn’t chains or possessive declarations. It’s someone who sees her as an equal, not a prize to be won.”

Daemon’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister, fingers twitching with the urge to draw it and end this insufferable man’s righteous speeches once and for all. But he held back, knowing that doing so would only prove Gwayne’s point. Instead, he leaned in, his voice icy and full of dark promise. “You may have her now, but don’t mistake this for the end. She is mine, whether you—or even she—realize it yet. And one day, when you’re just a memory, she’ll see that.”

With that, Daemon yanked his horse’s reins and rode away, his heart a tempest of emotions he couldn’t fully name—anger, fear, desperation. It terrified him, this loss of control, the realization that he was losing his grip not just on you, but on himself. But he would not give in, would not let you slip away without a fight.

As he rode toward the front of the hunting party, his mind raced with dark thoughts and unspoken plans. He had lost control once, but he would not let it happen again. Whatever it took, whoever he had to destroy, he would make sure that when all was said and done, you would see that you were his and his alone.

And in the distance, Gwayne watched him go, his jaw clenched, his own heart heavy with the knowledge that this confrontation was only the beginning of the battle to come.

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1driedpersimmon · 1 year ago

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Ouhggaaa 🥺🥺 I hope you get your robe one day!!!

i hate crafting ft. @1driedpersimmon's kaiien

#ff #ffxiv #not my art #crying we cant even trade you if youre on free trial either #i was like that too in my early free trial days....#i think thats why i go through millions so easily 💀#its all glams

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dduane · 7 months ago

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Hi! Possibly a bit of a weird question for you, but I'm trying to collect all of YW in hardbacks before my old omnibus finally gives out, and I was wondering - do you know if books 1-4 ever got published in hardback with the Harcourt black base/white text cover art? So many websites use blank placeholders that I can't tell if what I'm searching for even exists!

It’s not weird at all. I get occasional inquiries (especially from librarians) about how to get their hands on complete hardcover sets of the Young Wizards books.

Let's make this simpler from the start by establishing that in the forty-plus year history of the series, there has never been a unified hardcover edition of all the YW books, from any of their publishers... mostly because there've been too many publishers over that stretch of time.

Let's take the books in order, as far as possible, and you'll see what happened.

The books' first home was at Delacorte Press, an imprint of Dell Publishing. So You Want To Be A Wizard was published in hardcover in 1983, the Deep Wizardry hc in 1985, and the High Wizardry hc in 1990, with these covers. (The art, respectively, by David Wiesner, Darrell Sweet, and Neal McPheeters.)

All of these editions are now difficult to find in good condition, especially SYWTBAW—which as a first book in a series by a new/untried author, perhaps understandably had a very small print run and was mostly sold to libraries. (The run might have been as small as 1500 copies. It's hard to tell now, as this wasn't data that was shared with authors in those days.) As a result, most copies of the Delacorte SYWTBAW hc are either very beat up, or (if signed and/or in good condition) relatively expensive. The Delacorte DW and HW hardcovers are a little easier to find, but not that much.

In the early 1990s there was a change in publishing direction at Dell shortly after HW came out. The publisher's interest had pivoted toward wanting more bestselling authors; so they jettisoned many then-new or midlist authors so as to be able to pay the best-selling authors more. (In this particular micro-bonfire of the vanities, Dell's stupidity in throwing Jane Yolen overboard, FFS, astounds me to this day.) So though the books continued to be published as paperbacks at other Dell imprints (Laurel-Leaf, Yearling) through the mid-1990s, that was the end of the Dell hardcovers.

The next hardcover publication was therefore in 1990, from GuildAmerica / SF Book Club. Support Your Local Wizard contains SYWTBAW, DW and HW, and was a Book Club bestseller: it sold a quarter million copies and set a record as their most popular new-member-requested book that lasted until they went out of business. As a result, there are a lot of these books around.

Also in plentiful supply is The Young Wizards, which SFBC Fantasy published in 2001. (NB that a lot of sources list this as being a 1984 book, which is incorrect. As it also contains, besides the first three, A Wizard Abroad and The Wizard's Dilemma, this makes it impossible to have been published any sooner than 2001.)

Anyway, after that, things get a bit simpler. In the mid 1990s the series was picked up by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt / Harcourt Trade Publishers' new YA imprint Magic Carpet Books, which began republishing earlier works. Possibly the oddest of these was a small-format (mmpb-sized) hc of SYWTBAW, which turns up here and there used. (I really need to ask Jane some time what the heck the thinking was on this book...)

...Anyway. A Wizard Abroad had until then been published only in the UK (in a mass-market mmpb from Transworld/Corgi); its first hardcover came out from the SF Book Club/GuildAmerica in 1993, Dell having passed on acquiring it. (The cover on this one was done by the fabulous David Cherry, artist and brother of my old colleague C. J. Cherryh.) Harcourt did another of the unusual small-format hardcovers, this time of AWAb, in 1997—testing the waters, I think. Then, when that sold strongly, they went straight to full-size hardcovers with The Wizard's Dilemma (with art from then until now being done by Cliff Nielsen) and have stayed with that format since.

Harcourt also did a lovely 25th anniversary hardcover edition of So You Want To Be A Wizard in 2003, which is easy to find inexpensively. I strongly suspect this republication trend would have continued with Deep Wizardry and High Wizardry when their respective anniversaries came around. But unfortunately the Magic Carpet program wound down soon afterwards, and the most recent hc volumes have been published simply as HMH, with no apparent interest at the publisher in going back to fill the holes in the hardcover backlist.

...So you can see, you've got kind of a mixed bag to deal with in terms of what you want. Availability has also been something of an issue, as the books are considered pretty deep backlist by Harcourt's current owner (HarperCollins), and warehouse supplies of some books in the series have been iffy.

So. The simplest I can make things for you is to help you avoid dealing with large corporate warehouses (because when some of these hc editions were preparing to go out of print, whenever possible I bought up the remaining stock to spare it from being pulped). Signed Books Direct—by which I mean the Ikea shelves out back in our boot room—has ample mint-condition supplies of many of the Harcourt hardcovers (though not Games Wizards Play, unfortunately: we've run out of those). Ignore the site’s front page inventory, which needs to be updated. Instead, just drop an email to the SBD email address and query me about what you're looking for.

HTH!

#Young Wizards meta #Young Wizards hardcovers

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tribalauthor · 5 months ago

Text

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 6>

word count: 2.5k

Sophia's POV:

Heat was roaming over my whole body as I was sitting on Roman's lap, body to body or more precisely clothes to clothes.

Mouth to mouth.

We were having a heated makeout session with slow and sloppy kisses and some little moans coming out of us.

I could feel his not so short beard tickling my whole face. Unfamiliar sensation for me since I have never made out with a too bearded guy. I could also feel his huge hands on my butt and squeezing it.

We stopped for a bit to take a breath and stare at each other. The spark of lust in his deep brown eyes let me know what he wants.

"I think we must stop." I spoke through my heavy breaths.

However, it's not the time or place.

I abruptly opened my eyes and slightly lifted my head.

What dream did I just have? I never dream about things like this...especially with an older man.

I swear this didn't happen in real life.

Me and Roman just drank ONE glass of wine then we took a nap, we got in New York and he drove me home. That's it.

I checked the time on my phone and it's almost noon.I got home really late or must I say early - around 5am.

After I did my morning routine I put on some gray sweatpants and dark blue blouse, ready to drink my coffee and do some pilates.

Maybe talk to mom if she is here. I know it's Saturday but being a surgeon is very, very demanding job and you have to be available 24/7.

It has been like this since I remember myself.

Couldn't spend too much time with my mom, so basically my dad raised me...until he died 9 years ago.

Although it has been almost a decade, you can never get over the pain of losing a parent especially when he was so close to you.

During my college years uncle was the one who supported me to pursue my dreams. He even helped me a lot with the studies and everything.

I learned a lot from him.

I remember ever since I was a kid my dad always told me that I resemble uncle in so many ways. He even said it's like I'm uncle's daugher and not his.

My dad was built different from uncle though. While uncle has this formal, practical persona and so on, my dad was more of like a free spirit.

He was changing jobs constantly. Couldn't really keep himself in one place. I remember him and mom always argued. He just didn't like the idea of mom bringing more money at home than him. That fact was crushing him every single day until he decided to overdose and end it all.

It's kind of stupid, if you think about it, ain't it?

He could have just asked for a divorce and still be here with us but I know dad loved mom with his whole heart although mom is a very, very difficult woman.

Perfectionist at its finest, unemotional, smart.

I mean she needs these qualities for her job, I know that but I admit she is not easy. I also admit that I inherited a lot from her and it's not just the looks.

As I went downstairs to make myself some coffee I heard some voices chattering.

Oh God, did she invite somebody?

When I got in the living room, I saw my mother drinking coffee and eating with my two best friends from college - Tina and Cleo.

My two beautiful, 10/10 best friends who've been by my side since first year of college.

Tina is a long haired brunette woman with light brown eyes, skinny body and the most beautiful smile in the world and I mean it. A literal angel came from heaven and she got married a few months ago to a very good man.

He is meant just for her.

Cleo is a curly girl with light brown skin and hazel eyes. Body is tea, fashion sense too and she got engaged last month. Therefore we shall expect a wedding soon.

"Somebody forgot she invited guests over the weekend." mom scolded me.

I put my hand on my temple.

"I'm so sorry, girls." I said as I went to the table and hugged them.

"It's okay, Soph. You are a busy Wise Woman." Cleo teased me and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Oh me and Noah watched Smackdown last night. He is a big fan of the show and suddenly I am too." Tina chuckled and I slightly wrinkled my lips.

"Me and Jeremiah too. He is crazy for WWE." I scratched my neck. "You were amazing, girl. Best thing of the night and I'm not biased."

"Thank you." I batted my eyelids and looked at mother.

"I took a few glimpses. Sometimes I think you came out of your uncle, not from me." she stated and shook her head. However, she didn't quite use a cold tone, it was rather proud in a way. Judging by her expression, she is lowkey proud.

"That guy Roman is something else though. I made a comment how hot he is and Jer...just agreed." my jaw fell on the floor. "He is his favorite."

"Oh my God." I put my hand on my mouth and headed to the coffee machine in the kitchen box.

"A normal man would feel jealous but he said 'yeah, I know' and continued watching." Cleo still seemed in disbelief but so am I.

"Noah likes Cody more but he made an interesting statement." Tina hinted something and I turned on the machine while being all in ears. "He said that Roman and Sophia look cute together."

"He said what?" I turned around immediately in shock.

"Storyline as in the show or storyline out of the show?" my mom asked in case she didn't understand.

"He said that he envisions a deeper storyline with you two." she added and I furrowed my eyebrows. Apparently, my subconscious also envisions something deeper.

"So what's going on with yall?" I finally sat on the table.

"I think he meant in the show but who knows." Tina replied as I grabbed the ready coffee and went to them.

Roman's POV:

Right now I am training with Jon and Josh in my home gym. Whenever we can, we train together. We have always been together.

Especially with the twins. We've been like triplets our whole lives. They are my closest family and friends that I have, to be honest.

We literally grew up together ever and have been through so much long before WWE.

"Uce, that Paul niece...goddamn." Josh started speaking while lifting his weights. "Seems like a big gem."

"Yeah, she completely nailed it last night." I agreed.

"And you want to nail her, don't you, Joe?" Jon just put me in the hot chair.

"What?" his younger twin furrowed his eyebrows. "Uce..."

"My plans are long-term." this is what I decided to reply. That's the truth and they should know that this is how I work. I don't date women I don't have long-term plans with.

Josh seemed really confused as hell. "She is Paul's niece and probably around 20 years younger than you...and us." he stated and I rolled my eyes.

"Twelve years." I corrected him.

The twins exchanged looks. Josh was shocked and Jon had confirming look.

"These two didn't shut up the whole ride. Me and Yoko had to move to the bedrooms." Jon pointed at me.

"Well, good luck with making a young woman like her fall for you." Josh managed to say and giving me that look of judgement.

"It's like y'all don't know me at all." I was actually disappointed. "I can and I will get her." I declared. Damn. 'Believe that' almost came out of my mouth.

"Mission already started." I uttered.

"Well, you better start working cause it seems like she has a lot of admirers and now that she got into the business, they will become even more." the elder twin advised me and I just flashed a smirk, looking down.

Sophia's POV

"We are in a process of wedding planning." Cleo said and my jaw dropped.

"Already?! I thought yall weren't gonna rush." I exclaimed.

"We thought that too but we tend to talk about it a lot so me and Jer actually started thinking of concepts." my friend had that amazing glow of a freshly engaged woman and the excitement rush of planning a wedding.

I am really happy that they found the right guys for them. Sometimes I can't help but wonder when I will find mine.

The door bell cut off Cleo's storytime. Mom got up saying that she will check who it might be.

"As of now we are thinking about a small spring wedding, like a garden party with lots of flowers." me and Tina nodded in agreement, liking the idea.

I suddenly saw my mom going into the room carrying a bouquet with a white wrapping and red flowers.

They looked kinda like lilium but I'm not quite sure.

"These ones seem like a great idea." she got into the conversation and my friends also turned to her, shocked at the view.

"Does my mom have a secret admirer?" I cocked my eyebrow and smirked. I mean she is a pretty attractive woman and she has always been but her next man has to be a billionaire or something.

"They are for you actually." she replied and handed me the bouquet.

The flowers were red on the outside and white on the inside. Insanely pretty and smell amazing, too.

Oh my God.

I saw there was a not so little card in it and it was written 'for Sophia'.

"The WWE men started with the wooing." Tina commented.

"My dear Wise Woman. Seeing you last night trying to read "Goddesses in every woman" (I didn't quite leave you but it still made me think) evoked a thought in my head which goddess hides in you. My first thought was Aphrodite but then I realized you are actually Athena - the goddess of wisdom. I also did a research about her that she is portrayed as a companion of heroes (me in the case). I also checked out that the Roman equation of Athena is Minerva and the flowers you see in this bouquet are Amaryllis 'Minerva' symbolising determination and strength. Also, they kinda look like you ;)

"Can you read it aloud? Please." Cleo begged.

Sincerely from Your Tribal Chief"

I rested my back on the chair trying to process everything I just read right now. My friends had the same reaction and I swear I could see surprise in mom's face too.

"Holy, these old school men don't play." Cleo grabbed her curly hair. "How many times have you two met?"

"Just two. Last night and when I was hired." I replied.

"Olivia, I think you have a son in law in the way." Tina warned mom.

"Let's see how long he is gonna keep this energy. He is an athlete after all." mom shrugged it off.

"A hella romantic one, though. Goddamn." Cleo swore once again. "Old school men really don't play. This is exactly how you do it."

I bit my lips trying to hide the big grin that would stick on my mouth.

This is romantic, indeed adding the fact that I have always associated myself with Athena and Roman has no idea. He was just thinking about this.

"What are you waiting for? Call Roman and thank him." Tina scolded me.

"Right." I mumbled and took my phone then left the table, so I could talk in private.

He gave me his contact the day we met, so we have our contacts. I dialed his number and I felt my heart pounding fast in my chest.

I am still feel the adrenaline in my blood. This is literally the sweetest thing a man has ever done for me.

"Hey." I heard his bass-deep voice that could drive any woman crazy and I am no different.

"Hi, Roman." I replied with my soft feminine voice. "I received your present." I continued talking and bit my lip. "Thank you so much for the gesture and especially the astonishingly detailed card." I chuckled slightly. "You just left me speechless really." I spoke frankly.

I heard his deep chuckle.

"I am a man of detail, sweetheart. Remember that." he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone and I almost fell to the ground.

A detailed man? Oh my God. Literally my dream.

"I love the flowers too." I added. "Thank you so much once again. Can't spell romantic without Roman." I giggled at the realization I just had and I heard him laughing.

"You said it alone." "You are welcome, Soph. I am capable of even more but you are gonna see in the future." I swear to God he would wink at me if we were face to face right now.

"Can't wait." I bit my lips.

"By the way, what are your plans for today?" he changed the topic.

"I am hanging out with my friends now then I will work out and then I don't know. What about you?" I literally have no plans for later.

"Well how about we go out tonight?" he asked me.

"Hmm...where?" I replied with a question. I know I shouldn't agree immediately.

"Somewhere nice." I hate him. Why doesn't he tell me the specific place? Did he think about it or he is as of now.

"Okay." I said after a few seconds.

"See ya." I said and hung up.

"Great. Be ready at 7. I'm gonna pick you up." Roman said with a note of command which I cannot help but find hot in a way unless he crosses the line.

Okay, what should I wear?

"Definitely not that" Cleo said with judging tone after I showed them an option from my wardrobe.

"I think you should stop with your snobbish business outfits and pull something out of the slut wardrobe." Tina advised me and started roaming into the clothes in my big wardrobe.

"Something with big cleavage." Cleo gave her clues and she pulled out a very, very short red dress that I have which is more for the club.

"Girls, I am dealing with the face of sports entertainment. He is taking me to a dinner at a very expensive restaurant, most likely and not the local pub, okay?" I tried to explain them the deal since they don't seem to understand.

"Plus, he is an elder man, not one of our peers." I added.

"True." Tina agreed. "Then something classy" she started looking around again.

"And still revealing but not so much." Cleo yelled after her. "Revealing cleavage but not so short."

"I think I found the one." Tina announced as she pulled out a hanger with black sleevless dress and a black little fur collar.

I put it on me to see where is the length and it's a bit below the knees which makes it perfect, in my opinion.

"Oh my. I completely forgot about this set." I gasped.

"It's even still with the tag on it." Tina almost facepalmed.

"Some black heels and pretty necklace and you are ready, sweetie." Cleo said.

"Plus your signature hair volume and natural-style curls." Tina made a chef's kiss. "Make him weak."

"He is a professional athlete. There is nothing weak about him." I slapped them with logic once again.

"Okay but he is still a man. Make him nervous." Cleo said in one of these villian-like daring tone.

I licked my lips.

"We'll see." I just said.

#roman reigns #tribal chief #wwe #head of the table #the bloodline #roman reigns fanfiction

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hannie-dul-set · 2 years ago

Text

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [2].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. mentions of dicks and balls and nudity, mentions of sex, mild manipulation, someone cries at one point, the usual amount of swearing. WORD COUNT. 3.3k.

TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi @certifiedmoa @blueberrgyuu0 @primantha @blu3bell4 @nunugget @hoshi-is-ult-bbg

NOTE. whatever the bet they have is, it's definitely one of the three things you're thinking about. per usual, please let me know what you think about this trainwreck so far!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 2 — the inevitable disasters of living with six men.

FOR THE MOST PART, LIVING IN YOUR NEW TEMPORARY HOME HAS BEEN FINE. It’s similar to living in the dorms, but a lot more hygienic and a lot less stressful considering you don’t need to use your earplugs at the dead of night anymore. Your housemates all surprisingly tend to themselves, minding their own business on the day-to-day.

Jake makes sure you feel welcomed by introducing you to the extensive LEGO collection in his room which is taking him more than a week, you have never seen Soobin come out of his room again after he got jumpscared by your Victoria’s Secret on the first day, and Heeseung smiles and says hi to you but never fails to demonstrate his superhuman agility by swerving out of your way when you cross paths in the narrower hallways, making sure he never touches you. You also hear questionable screams of anguish from Beomgyu’s room whenever you come down for water at 3 a.m., you often have breakfast cereal with Jay and he always makes sure to refill your Cheerios while saying “to make your day a lot more cheery-oh,” and sometimes— when you’re particularly lucky— you and Sunghoon would emerge from your bedrooms at the same time and he’d stare you down, like usual, until you finally smile at him and he breaks into a cold sweat before either retreating back into his room or downstairs.

It’s great. Living with Jake and his friends is so great.

Until it’s not. Because you’re living with six men, and that statement in itself is bound to harbor problems.

Case in point—

“Who the fuck ate my ice cream?”

It’s early in the morning. Heeseung, Beomgyu, Jake, and Jay are all gathered around the kitchen island as you witness the murder scene in the fridge. You turn around, revealing the opened pint of mint chocolate that has a very noticeable chunk taken out from its creamy, minty center. “Not me.” Beomgyu is the first to defend himself. “You’re the only one in this house that even likes that toothpaste shit.”

“Say that again.” You slam the fridge door shut, looking him dead in the eye. “I dare you. Say that shit again.”

You wait. You continue staring at Beomgyu until he breaks into a nervous sweat and lets out a cough after tearing his head away. A victorious grin stretches on your face. “Thought so, punk.”

“That’s not fucking fair. You can’t pull that crap!”

“What crap?” you press further. Beomgyu isn’t able to challenge your stare again so he resorts to hopping off the stool with a groan and disappears into the living room. That’s another victory in your books. “Anyway, seriously— which one of you ate my ice cream? I won’t get mad. Just be honest and tell me.”

Jake fidgets in his seat. “Are you sure someone ate it?”

“There’s a hole! There’s literally a singular hole!” You’re sure one of them took a bite before realizing their major fuck up and discreetly returning your pint into the freezer. Jay chokes back a giggle. The three of them are looking at each other. Oh my god, they’re all children. “Heeseung. Do you know what happened?”

The man in question suddenly jolts in his seat and straightens his shoulders. “N-no, no I don’t,” he sputters out. “I really don’t know.”

“I think he does,” inserts Jay.

“I think he does, too.” You settle the violated ice cream on the counter before marching up to the panic-stricken accused. He tries to run away, but you’ve memorized all his evasive tactics. You know how this bastard operates, so you slam your arm down over the counter as a barricade before he could book it. “Heeseung, did you kill my ice cream?”

“I did not!” he exclaims.

“Who did it, then?”

“I don’t know— ask Sunghoon!”

Just in time. Sunghoon is mid-stride into the kitchen, but makes an immediate u-turn the moment he hears his name. You’ve just about had it. You manage to grab him back by the scruff of his shirt and yank him down with a harsh tug. “Holy shit,” Jake breathes out. Sunghoon tries to pry himself off with a grunt, but you have an iron grip on his collar.

“Talk,” you spit out. “Tell me who ate my ice cream. I’ve had enough of your silent treatment, Park Sunghoon. You better spit it out, right now.”

This time, he succeeds by grabbing you by the wrist and almost flips you over, before settling with twisting your arm instead. “I don’t fucking know!”

“Ow!”

You hold your forearm close to your chest. That was the first time he’s ever spoken to you and you would’ve thought his voice was pretty until he decided to cuss you out. “Well damn, you don’t need to be a total bitch about it.” Sunghoon’s expression sinks. He grumbles and turns back out of the kitchen. You let out a sigh, quickly returning your attention to the three boys on the counter before they can get the opportunity to run away. “None of you are leaving until you tell me who the culprit is.”

Heeseung squirms nervously under your stare. The other two are out of hot water because they don’t seem to know anything. It takes him thirty seconds to break. “Soobin hyung said— said something about making a mistake so I think you should— wait, hold on!”

Too late. You’re already marching up the stairs. You can hear the scrambling of footsteps following after you, but you don’t stop, not until you reach his room and you lift your fist up to gingerly knock on Soobin’s door. Two knocks. And then three. You hear the knob click before a small gap cracks open— wide enough for you to flash the hesitant Choi Soobin a malicious grin. Within a second, all the color drains from his face and he tries slamming the door back shut, but you wedge your foot into the gap quick enough to stop him.

Fuck. It hurts like a bitch. You’re biting down your tongue and trying your best to maintain a smile. “Let’s talk, yeah?” You kick the door open and Soobin stumbles back to avoid the violent swing.

It’s the first time you’re entering someone else’s room. You hope you don’t get sued for breaking and entering.

“I believe we have yet to formally introduce ourselves to each other, Mr. Choi Soobin, but you see, there has been a conundrum,” you start, walking into his personal space, inch-by-inch, step-by-step and he slowly backs away. “A crime scene, if you will. Yesterday, on my way home from work, I bought a delicious pint of mint chocolate ice cream from the 7-Eleven just outside the subdivision. You’ve been there, right?”

The back of his legs hit the cushion of his bed when there’s no space left for him to back into. “Soobin.” Your voice is sharp, slicing into the air, and Soobin stumbles back onto the mattress. “Have you been there?” you repeat your question. He nods, throat bobbing when he swallows down nothing.

Maybe you’re pushing it, but you’re having way too much fun. Let’s just say you’re getting even. “Well, I left that pint of ice cream untouched in the freezer because it was already really, really late at night,” you continue. “I intended to eat it this morning, but imagine my surprise when I opened the pint to find a huge, gigantic hole in the middle! Almost as if someone dug a spoon and stole a bite of my mint chocolate ice cream.”

Soobin flinches everytime you hiss out a word with too much enunciation. You’re practically looking down on the giant man. His face is drenched in guilt. He’s got nowhere to run now.

“Do you know what happened, Soobin?”

Too much. Maybe you pushed it a little too much this time because all of sudden— he’s in tears. He’s actually fucking crying.

“...Soobin…?”

“I—I didn’t know it was yours! It was— it was late at night and I was half asleep, so I—I—I thought it was the choco chip ice cream I bought the other day, put when I put it in my mouth, it tasted horrendous, and that’s when I knew I did something horribly wrong.” There are fat tears rolling down his flushed cheeks and he’s close to breaking into a fit of hiccups. Oh no. Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I’m sorry, I’m so—sorry, please forgive me, I—”

“H-hey— it’s fine, it’s alright, I was just messing around!” Your palms and fingers are now all wet trying to console him while wiping off his tears. The last time you had to comfort a grown man was when you watched Hi Bye, Mama! with your friends, so needless to say, you’re lacking in that skill department and are thus, also freaking out. The only thing you’re getting out of this is the discovery that Soobin’s skin is unfairly soft. What the hell is his skincare routine? “It was a joke! A joke! You know what, you can have all my ice cream from now on! So, please just stop crying—”

“Oh my god.”

You snap your head back to see the rest of the boys gathered outside the door, but that’s the least of your concerts at the moment because you think you’ve just traumatized Soobin a second time within two weeks you started living here. “You monster. You made Soobin hyung cry,” Beomgyu announces from behind, and you shoot him a glare.

“Do you want me to make you cry next?”

“I think I’m good.”

Soobin finally calms down after that and you’re all subsequently kicked out. You knock on his bedroom door the next day with three more pints of ice cream (different flavors) as a peace offering and though you’re sure the both of you are cool now, he still starts sweating when you try to make eye contact with him. You also haven’t caught the bastard that keeps on depleting your kisses stash yet, but you’ll find him eventually.

And that was just one of your problems. The next issue you have is a little less dessert related, and little more—

“Fuck! Put some pants on, for shit’s sake!”

The amount of times you’ve almost seen a pair of balls hanging around shouldn’t be legal. You finally decide to round them all up in the living room for a discussion one day because it’s been getting out of hand.

“Listen,” you start your speech. The six of them are sitting around the sofa as you stand in front of them, arms crossed, and all. “I understand that you’re all used to living by yourselves for a very long time now. Trust me, I really do. But to be completely frank, I also really don’t want to see any dick and balls outside the bedroom, you know? I get enough unsolicited dick pics already.”

Jay looks like he wants to say something. “So, does that mean it’s okay if it’s inside the bedroom?” You give him a look. He politely puts his hands on his lap. “Sorry.”

“Anyway,” you continue. “Old habits die hard. I understand that. But someones these habits need to be broken for the sake of a peaceful cohabitation. That is why I thought of a countermeasure.” You tap on the large jar that’s been sitting on the coffee table since their arrival. All eyes are on the container. “Every time someone accidentally flashes anyone— of course, that includes myself— they have to put money in the Preservation of Dignity Jar as a penalty.”

“PD&J.”

“Yes. Thank you for your input, Jay. Jake, you’re raising your hand?”

Jake lowers his arm and clears his throat. “Who gets the money once the jar is full?”

“Very good question.” He looks proud of himself. You give him a smile. “All the money goes to me because of how much you guys have violated my eyes within two weeks of living here.”

“That makes sense,” Sunghoon nods at your proposal. Of course he does. He’s the biggest culprit out of the lot.

“That’s not fair!” Beomgyu interjects. “It’s not like I want you to see my dick!”

You give him a smile and he flinches back down into his seat. “So, is it my fault for walking into an unlocked bathroom?”

“Knock first!”

“I do, and you bitches never fucking answer!”

“Okay!” A clap resounds in the room. Heeseung makes an attempt to resolve the spat. “How about we all get the money in the jar?”

“None of your socialist bullshit, Heeseung. The most deprived should get all the money in full.” He winces the moment you step a little too close. You let out a sigh. “State your miseries. Soobin, you start.”

He’s been quietly fiddling with his thumbs since the beginning, and the sudden flush of attention isn’t helping his nervousness. “I...I have this Gojo figurine that I’ve been eyeing since last month, and—” Soobin cuts himself off. You raise a brow. He looks away. “N-nevermind. You can have the money.”

That was three more seconds of eye contact than usual. You should give him a pat on the head for that. “I’m in debt,” Beomgyu quickly presents his case. “I borrowed money from Jay and I need to pay him back.”

Jay goes next. “I’m a couple hundred thousand won short because Beomgyu borrowed money from me.”

“Those don’t sound very misfortunate, I’m afraid.” Jay says he totally, absolutely agrees with you and Beomgyu clicks his tongue before grumbling in the corner of the couch. Your eyes land on Jake, who hesitantly drawls out that he wants to buy a new beanie. Sunghoon spends too much time thinking so you eliminate him for being slow. “Heeseung, would you like to say something?”

“I just think we should all—”

“My turn,” you cut him off before he tries to settle for equality again. “My dorm caught on fire. I’m half-homeless right now. If there aren’t any objections about me being the most in need out of all of us, we can agree that I’ll be the one keeping the money.” They don’t dare make a noise. You grin. “It’s a pleasure doing business with all of you. Please feel free to walk around in your underwear as much as you’d like. Thank you.”

When you saunter out of the area, you hear Beomgyu rallying them to protest because this felt like an unfair arrangement, but by the end of the week, the jar is already a fourth filled with sweet, sweet cash and you have successfully established the steady flow of your passive income. Was that your intention in the first place? Perhaps, but they have to compensate you somehow for everything your eyes have been forced to witness.

But there is yet another pressing problem in your midst. This one, you’re not entirely sure you have a solution for.

“Hey,” you greet Jake after he opens his bedroom door for you. He invites you in and you realize he’s building an addition to his very extensive LEGO collection, so you’re careful not to aim your ass on any of the bricks scattered on his bed.

“What’s up?” he asks with a curious smile.

“How did you get your friends to agree with me living here?” Jake cocks his head, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, it’s kinda obvious that they’re not exactly comfortable with me being around.”

“Are…you sure you’re not just misunderstanding?”

“Jake,” you exhale. “One of them picks a fight with me whenever he gets the chance, another one doesn’t even want to fucking talk to me. The other two are either desperately avoiding me or flat out think I’m about to hit them when I raise my arm for a wave. And aside from you, I can only hold a normal conversation with Jay, but those conversations aren’t exactly normal, either.” You have no idea if he hasn’t noticed this, or if he simply just wants to feign ignorance, but Jake looks like he’s in very deep thought. You sigh again. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I can just find another place to stay if I’m being too much.”

You must’ve hit a nerve, because he suddenly snaps into panic. “No! I mean, you really don’t have to go! Trust me, having you here is important to all of us.”

Now, that’s suspicious. You narrow your eyes at Jake, and he presses his lips together and looks away. Something is definitely up and you’re not going to give up until your dear friend voluntarily spills out his guts or until you make him spill it.

“Important?” you prod. “What do you mean by that?”

He starts sweating even more. “I—I mean, those four are just shy, you know? They’re not very good at expressing themselves. And—and you’re getting along pretty well with Jay! They all have absolutely zero problems about having you here, I can guarantee you that.”

You continue staring at him for a little longer, throwing out a hum and sigh every now and then to get his gears grinding. When you deem him scared shitless enough, you finally start, “I see.” There’s something wrong in the tone of your voice and he knows it. Jake swallows nervously. You finally crack him. “Jake, I’m really disappointed.”

There it is. You watch as he crumbles right before your eyes. “I really expected better from you, you know?” A little more. “Of all people, I didn’t think you’d be the one to put me into this kind of situation. I mean, we’ve been friends for a good while now. No, I’m not angry! I’m just really, really disappointed.”

“Hear— hear me out!”

Almost.

“I have nothing to do with the bet, I promise! I’m just an unwitting participant, so please don’t get mad at me! I’ll tell them to quit it, I really will!”

Gotcha.

“Oh, so there’s a bet?”

It’s like you drained all the life out of him within a matter of seconds.

“H-huh?” he stammers, eyes batting in confusion. “Didn’t you say you were disappointed? Haven’t you found out about the whole bet thing?”

“I found out thanks to you.” It probably isn’t a good thing if Jake is this terrified about you finding out. You lean back, palms sinking into the push of his blankets as your friend continues to eye you nervously. “How about you tell me more about this interesting bet? Does it have something to do with me having to live with all of you?”

He’s nipping on his bottom lip. It’s becoming more evident that whatever this bet is— you surely have the right to know. “I’m sorry,” he finally spits out. “I—I can’t say— at least not at the moment! But, I promise it’s nothing bad! It’s completely harmless and not dangerous at all!”

It’s definitely something bad. “Alright.” You get up. He instinctively blocks your way and panics again when he realizes what he’s doing. You click your tongue. “I’m not going to force it out of you if you don’t want to tell me. You’re still the owner of the roof I’m living under, so I can’t exactly try to fight you, you know?”

“So, you’re not leaving?”

Jake is wearing his puppy dog eyes and you honestly start to feel bad. You sigh for the umpteenth time and raise an arm, letting your fingers pad through his soft hair when you pass in front of him, walking towards the door. “I’m not,” you assure. “I am finding out about this god damned bet eventually, though. It’s honestly worrisome how easy it is for you guys to crack under pressure.” Flashbacks consisting mostly of Soobin and Heeseung flit through your mind. You’ll try to mess with them a little less from now on.

You exit Jake’s room with a new problem on your plate and your previous one unsolved. It just keeps building up more and more.

To be honest, the biggest problem you expected to have upon discovering that you’d be living with six grown ass men would be them bringing in girls way too often for your personal comfort, but so far that hasn’t happened yet. Something tells you that you don’t need to worry about that anymore.

#enhypen x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #enha x reader #txt x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #lee heeseung x reader #park jongseong x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen scenarios #tomorrow x together scenarios #enha scenarios #txt scenarios

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harleehazbinfics · 1 year ago

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Home is where my Heart is.

Chapter 3: The First Time Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 1100+ Warning: implied rape and abuse A/N: idk i feel weird that he's kinda ooc; tbf he is very different here in this ff BUT LISTEN crazy meets sweet, ITS KINDA CUTE also also, imma take a break and continue my devout!reader ff, you can check it out here. thanky!

mmmmm i changed so much dialogue i wonder how this'll go. (edited as of Feb 20)

It had been quite a few months after Alastor and I have started going out. Nothing drastically different happened when we were still friends then transitioning to lovers.

Both of us would mind our own business, however, that didn’t really mean that we weren’t thinking about each other. If Alastor went on radio, I would listen to him while doing mundane chores, listening to his voice through the vintage filter of the stereo, I'd even retort to his witty commentary as if he was in the room with me. While, I would be out doing shows across the city, ranging from clubs and cafes to the early television programs.

Today was one of those days, where I would be waiting for Alastor to pick me up after performing a show, as he promised to bring me out to drink for our date. I stood at a lamp post waiting for him, looking down at my shadow.

“Well, look who it is. Lil’ Mel out in town?” a raspy voice said to me, “Must be nice to finally get out of that orphanage, huh? How’ve you been liking it so far? Missed me?”

Hearing this familiar insistent voice sent shivers down my spine, having flashbacks of my days in the orphanage. I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Go away, Aidan. I don’t want to talk to you,” I announced, fear creeping up on me.

“Oh, don’t be like that, babe!” he said putting his hand on my shoulder, “Don’t you remember all our fun times?”

I wriggled out of his grasp and angrily answered, “Fun? Hah, you’re insane. And never call me babe! Goodbye.”

I tightened my grasp on my sling bag and briskly walked away, looking for a more crowded area. But I never got too far when he suddenly had my arm in a tight grip making me squeal in pain. He covered my mouth with his other hand hushing me, and placing his knee between my legs. This scenario was all too familiar that tears welled up in my eyes automatically, but I gathered all my courage tensing my body and biting his hand, frustration clear on my face.

Meanwhile, Alastor was already a few buildings close to your arranged meeting place when he stopped when he heard a familiar voice.

“I told you to let go of me!”

This shout reaches his ears following a thud, fearing the worst he then bolts toward Miledy’s direction.

“Miledy!” he yells however freezes when he sees a man looming over her with a metal pipe in his hands.

“AL!” she screamed scared out of her wits.

Without a second thought, he lunges at the man throwing the both of them to the side leaving me on the floor. I looked at Alastor in fear for him when I saw him struggling to wrestle the larger man off of him.

“STOP! GET OFF HIM!”

Aidan seemed to falter when he heard me, creating an opening for Alastor and managing to stab him through his chest. Aidan gathered the last of his strength to wrap his hand around Alastor’s neck. I panicked and grabbed the forgotten pipe and bashed him over the head, making him go limp on top of Al.

Alastor moved the body to the side and with a relieved look on his face, he moves forwards and pulls me in a tight hug.

“I was so scared. Did you get hurt?” he frets over me.

“You’re not scared of me? I just killed a-a person, Al,” I asked afraid of his reaction.

“Heavens no! I’m more relieved you’re not hurt,” he replied letting go of the hug and placing his hand to the side of my face.

Relieved that Alastor didn’t leave her despite her sins, she finally broke down as she recounted the traumatic events that had happened, including the times where she comforted herself to sleep crying after Aidan was done playing with her, causing all these bottled up grievances to burst out. While Alastor did his best to comfort her in an embrace.

“We should probably leave now. It won’t take long before someone calls the police,” he explained holding on to her shoulder. I only nodded my head shakily still rattled and followed his lead.

He covered the body and lifted it over his shoulder keeping it steady while his free grabbed my hand and ran far far away. We eventually ended in a forest where we buried the body. I wiped the sweat off my brow breathing deeply from all the extraneous activities. After that was all done, Alastor led me to a cabin outside the hunting grounds.

“Where are we?” I asked while looking at the old furniture and the floorboards that creaked.

“My house,” he stated simply offering me a glass of water. I took and drank all of it without a second thought making Alastor tug a very subtle smile on his lips at how she completely trusted him.

“Al, we just killed a man and buried him. What if they figure out that we did it? What will happen to us?” I ramble, face going pale from different scenarios going through my mind.

He kneels in front of me a frown adorning his face when he saw how distraught I was and replied, “I’ll never let them hurt you. I promise, they will never know.”

“What about you, Al! What if they take you away from me. I don’t want to be separated from you!” I yelled hoping he’d care about his own well-being.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said reading through me and holding my face in his hands, “I’ll never ever leave you, not if I can’t help it.”

My eyebrows furrowed still unconvinced, “How can you be so sure?”

His eyebrows drooped and a wry smile takes place while putting his hands on my knees obediently, “I’ve been hiding from them for years now. They haven’t had any idea that it was me. Knowing a lot of people surely has its perks.” I looked at him confused. “The first person killed was when I was 16, on the day that my mother died, and I’ve been running ever since.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you. But I never wanted you to be involved in this dirty past of mine,” he apologizes. “But I swear on my life that I never had any bad intention towards you. All I want is for you to be safe and free from worry.”

It took a very long time before one of us did or said anything. I took his hand, stood up and walked him towards the balcony that we walked past getting here. And just watched as the sun slowly rose hand in hand.

“I guess this is how we live for the rest of our lives now,” I uttered just above a whisper to the wind.

“I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

“Me too. You can depend on me… I love you, Al.”

“Thank you, Miledy.”

#hazbin fotel fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin husker #hazbin vaggie #hazbin nifty

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gemstone-roses · 2 years ago

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I'll help you forget

David 'deacon' Kay x reader

Summary: reader has had a bad day, all reader wants is deacon.

Alright I'm sorry its a little sad at the beginning but it's worth it I promise.

@castle-of-ruin

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, minors be fucking gone from this place! Smut, teasing, praise kink, comfort sex. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it ffs)

IF YOU SAW ME POST THIS BY ACCIDENT BEFORE IT WAS DONE NO YOU DIDNT

"hondo told me you had a rough shift". Deacon shuts his locker gently, walking over to you, he places his arm around your waist, a friendly gesture he's done many times before.

You flinch slightly, you've had such a terrible, awful day even being touched in a comforting way fills you with rage.

"Yeah, um, I'll see you at home deac" you send him a pathetic attempt at a smile that does not reach your eyes, before shifting out of his embrace.

You shared a house with Luca, and since deacon got divorced, him too.

Having him around was like an extra boost of happiness, he was so kind, and also happened to be extremely pleasing to look at.

Deacon frowned slightly, he'd never seen you be affected by a shift this bad before, all he wanted to do was take away your sad, take away whatever pain you were in.

Getting back home, you decide to get straight in the shower, as soon as the water hits your aching muscles, you let the tears you've been holding back flow.

You don't hear the front door shut due to the noise of the shower.

Thinking no ones home yet, you exit the shower in a shirt you pinched from luca one day.

"You've been crying" a deep voice says

"Jesus deac!" He startled you, and your nerves are already frayed.

Deacon walks over to where you stood, concern etched in his features.

"I didn't mean to startle you" he says softly, reaching out to touch your elbow.

"It's alright" you whisper

"You gonna tell me what's wrong honey?" He brings his hand up to your shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

"M fine" you sigh, closing your eyes and turning your face away from him, you cannot do this right now!

"look at me sweetheart" he grasps your chin so gently, wrapping his other arm around your waist,he doesn't let go as he stares into you, you can see how much he cares for you.

The sadness in your eyes staring back at him breaks his heart a little.

A tear runs down your face, you tried to hold it back but the way he's holding you right now pushes you over the edge.

He swipes it away with his thumb, he pulls you in closer to him.

"Deac" its barely audible, but he hears it, the crack in your voice.

Deacon leans into you, catching your lips in the softest kiss.

He pulls away far too early, his brows furrow as he studies your face, a silent question, checking your okay with this.

You respond by initiating this kiss this time, wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him into you, deacon presses his lips harder into yours, causing you to let out a moan. You feel deacon smirk as he's kissing you. He runs his hand down your spine slowly, the action sends heat straight to your core.

Deacon breaks the kiss again, leaning his forehead on yours

"I have wanted to do that for a very long time" he breathes, keeping his hands on your hips.

"I have wanted you to do that for a very long time" you smile back at him.

"You still feeling sad honey?" His deep voice comforts you, as well as making your pussy throb.

He takes your silence as a yes.

You worry your lip with your teeth

"Hey, it's okay" he assures you.

"Maybe if you kiss me again I'll feel better" you mumble.

"You want me to make you feel better sweetheart?" He's slightly breathless, eyes slightly hooded, pupils blown wide.

"Yeah" you whine.

Deacon takes your hand as he leads you to his room.

Pulling you into his room and over to the bed, he kisses you once more before pushing slightly for you to lie down. He places his hands on your thighs as you hit the mattress, meaning your legs dangle over the side of the bed.

Deacon positions himself in between your legs, moving his hands to slowly rub the inside of your thighs, he sees your breath hitch.

"Relax honey" he says before inching his hands closer to your core.

He swipes his thumb across your clothed core, making you whimper.

"Your soaking" he moans before crouching down and placing a feather light kiss to your pussy.

He hooks his fingers in the band of your underwear, and stops.

"Deac please" you cry.

"I need you to say it honey, c'mon, use your words"

You huff.

"I want you"

"Good girl" he praises as he finally removes your panties.

"Fuck" you moan at his words, your positively dripping now, and he hasn't even touched you.

Deacon places an open mouthed kiss to the top of your pussy, pushing a finger into you at the same time. You clench around his finger and deacon let's out a small groan.

He pumps his finger in and out of you while his tongue circles your clit slowly.

"Fuck deac" you whisper, he speeds up slightly at your words, adding another finger he archs them, reaching that spot inside you.

"Mm deac I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me honey" he says, mouth still on your clit, he feels your walls clench around his fingers, your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you.

He continues to pump his fingers in and out while you come down from your high.

"That was incredible" he breathes, removing his fingers from your dripping hole and bringing them up to lazily circle your clit.

"I-

"What is it sweetheart?"

"Fuck me, david" you say, sitting up to look him in the eye.

Deacons eyes darken slightly, he reaches for his belt, keeping his eyes on you as he strips.

"Lie back honey, head on the pillow" he says, freeing his hard cock from his boxers.

You scramble up the bed, waiting for him.

Deacon pumps his cock a few times before climbing on the bed to sit in between your legs.

"This is in my way" he says, gripping your shirt.

"Don't rip it! It's lucas!" You say

"He won't mind" deacon smirks, before ripping it off and throwing it to the side.

"You, are stunning" he whispers, placing a kiss to your lips before lining his cock up with your entrance.

You turn your head, shy, at his compliments.

"Don't hide from me honey" he grips your chin and turns your face back to look at him.

He pushes into you slowly, moaning as your pussy grips his cock.

"Jesus you feel so good" he whines as he bottoms out.

You whimper at the feeling of him inside you.

"You okay sweetheart?" He asks

"Yeah" you assure him.

"Take a deep breath honey"

He doesent move until you do.

"That's it, good" he says before thrusting into you slowly.

"I got you" deacon whispers. He keeps the place slow.

"You feel so good deac" you moan.

You clench around his cock as he thrusts into you.

Deacon whimpers as your walls flutter around him.

"Deac I'm gonna cum" you whine, closing your eyes.

"No, look at me, that's it, look at me when you cum honey" he thrusts into you hard.

" cum around my cock" he moans as his own orgasm approaches, his words making you release around him.

You feel his cock tighten inside you as his orgasm takes him.

He pulls out to lie next to you, one hand draped over your stomach.

"Feel better?" He asks

"Oh yes" you smile.

#s.w.a.t fanfic #deacon x reader #david 'deacon' kay x reader #s.w.a.t imagine #david kay x reader #s.w.a.t cbs

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marengogo · 9 months ago

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UGH!-10: It's Too Early For This Shit

Nuts - by RM [Right Place, Wrong Person]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I’d share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

⚠️ super angry post ahead ⚠️

I've just opened the blue bird App and I'm already done for the day.

"the travel show should've been these two. I'm very fond of their dynamic", "so true. It would've been more interesting more fun and less drama", "Heavy on the less drama. We'd also be having discussions too, the way we are massively ignoring the current one is sending me-", "ikrrr😭😭 also actual and long conversations between them" ...

Is it so fucking hard to just not give into the people you swear on your life you are "protecting your fave" from? Is it so hard respecting your faves decisions? Is it so hard to ... I dunno ... express your frustration without having to shit on someone else who has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING?

So you are frustrated that 🐰solos, 🐻solos, and 🐰🐻ers are in 🐥's business as always? Okay. AND? That should never stop you from watching the show your fave worked so hard on! You support your fave, you show him that his will, wishes and opinions do matter and YOU REPORT THE MOTHERFUCKERS, YOU IGNORE THE MOTHERFUCKERS, AND YOU MOVE THE FUCK ON, FFS!

It is really as simple as that.

KPOPPIES and their mamas have been against 875 since time immemorial, yet here we are, supporting them because supposedly we think they are worth our support and them pursing their dreams. Imagine going "I wish 875 disbanded because we have to report antis everyday" ... in 2024? on the Blue Bird App? Really now?? Where've you been Fam?! On Blue Bird Dot Com IT BE LIKE THAT. In K-MEDIA it be like that. In The Streets of the World with ignorant people It be Like THAT!!

Being AMI is not easy. It is frustrating many a time, it is angering many a time, it is downright aggravating many a time, but you'll never see me disrespect ANY of the members because other people in the world are dickheads. NO BRO.

You sad? Stay off SM for a day or two. You mad? Bitch with your friends offline, rant on a post, and/or start boxing, I dunno! But whatever it is ALWAYS 👏🏾 AIM 👏🏾 YOUR 👏🏾 RAGE 👏🏾 AT 👏🏾 THE 👏🏾 RIGHT 👏🏾 TARGET 👏🏾 .

Certain people resorting to hate 🐥 and viceversa IS NEVER going to be 🐰's fault and viceversa .

🐥 loves all his hyungs, and arguably 🐿️ is the one he is closest to. But he also loves all "his" maknaes, and you don't have to believe he is even close to 🐰 but YOU WILL RESPECT the fact that for a good 7 years at the very least ever since GCF Tokyo came to be, both 🐥 and 🐰 seem to really not give TWO FLYING FUCKS about what any of us have to say about the time they choose to spend together. So much so that, not only did they do a whole show together, but where and with whom are they now? 🦻🏾 ...

Yes. I thought so.

Also more interesting more fun ... actual and long conversations you are just a hating hoe for that. Two people not being chatterboxes doesn't mean there is anything wrong with tem. Not your cup of tea? Move on alone, no need to shit on it. Sure 🐥🐿️ may have a more "marketable" dynamic from 🐥🐰 but maybe, just maybe, 🐥 wasn't completely aiming at entertaining, in fact on multiple occasions they even said they weren't sure if this would air at all, but they weren't bothered.

In fact, if you ask me, this particular show aired because it wasn't like every other show so hellbent on trying to entertain. It aired because this were two people who actually ended up entertaining while constantly reminding themselves that they had to, and mainly failing to do so. So fuck you wholeheartedly.

If any of the other members want to have their show I'll be up for any pairing, any trio, etc and it will be just as special and interesting in its own way. If it ends up being shit ... I can assure you it will probably not air which would be a shame because i would watch anything my boys want to show us.

Just, it would be great if for once, some people could stop the hate-comparison and try the appreciation-despite, it goes a long way, and for the looks of it, 🐥 & 🐰 are not going to stop until their 50 so ... yeah.

I'm so fucking angry obviously,

Marengo.

PS - If anyone tries to come at me saying that I hate 🐥🐿️ I'LL END YOU.

#Marengo Goes UGH!#Tired already

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ea-nasir-my-beloved · 2 months ago

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Rant: The Roman Empire gets too much attention

Before Im burned on the stake I would just like to say I LIKE Rome okay? Its cool and has a lot of interesting history dont get me wrong, Im a big fan okay?

Rome is special, it was the second longest lasting empire in history. The chinese beating the Romans fair and square. Rome has a lot of other qualities making it unique and intresting but I dont feel like thats why Rome gets attention at all.

I feel like why there is so much discourse about Rome, so much media about Rome and so much of Roman history is taught obviously isnt just because it was a interesting empire. Its because it was a european empire and an empire led by mostly white people. This same shit is also why the greeks are so idolized.

You have to be a fool to think that this western understanding of history isnt founded on a lot of western propaganda. Historical research and race "science" went hand in hand for a long fucking time. The Romans and Greeks are used as a narrative to prove that white europeans are the smartest and best around...and first to be "civilized".

Archaeology and anthropology were two sides of the same coin here in the west for centuries.

If you actually know your history you would know that to the rest of the world Europe was the land of the Savages for a long time. Greece wasnt even that early with their civilisations. Look at the near east... The mesopotamians... The persians..The native americans...THE EGYPTIANS...The phoencians... and above all...above all... THE CHINESE FOR FUCKS SAKE

I bet the average westerner knows the name of more than one Roman emperor but cant name a single chinese dynasty let alone an emperor.

I just feel like all the credit goes to the Romans and to the Greeks... to the west. Even in fucking mathematics the works of the Islamic and Indian golden age are trampled on and their principles dont get to have the names of the people that made them... the pythagorean theorem wasnt even invented by pythagoras ffs. You can thank the middle east for nearly all your math and measurements of time.

So please remember your history textbooks are based on generations of history textbooks which were written by racist western idolists who were convinced of the undeniable superiority of the "white race" and that everyone else was inferior ergo all other history inferior to western history.

Note: Not my typical content, written in one sitting all from memory so might have incaccuracies if so please forgive me I was just a lil angy when I wrote this :)

#ancient history #ancient civilizations #ancient egypt #ancient rome #ancient world #archeology #history #rome #bronze age #roman empire

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novaursa · 8 months ago

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To Win a Princess (to refuse a dragon)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Events and timeline of the story differ from the canon events.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: coming to light

- Next part: her choice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The early morning light casts a warm light over the Dragonpit, illuminating the towering form of Belerix, your magnificent dragon, as he stands awaiting you. His scales shimmer with shades of deep sapphire and midnight black, streaked with hints of silver that catch the sun as if each scale were etched in starlight. His eyes, fierce and intelligent, are pools of molten amber, watching your every movement with a loyalty and bond that transcends language. Belerix’s long, serpentine neck rises high above, his massive wings folded against his sides, the membranes a dark, iridescent blue that hints at the power held within. His claws are sharp and glinting, his powerful limbs carrying the strength of ages, a creature built for the skies, yet grounded only for you.

You stand beside him, readying to mount the saddle strapped securely to his back. Your mind drifts to the memory of your last clandestine encounter with Tyland, the warmth of his hands, the tenderness of his touch, and the whispered promises exchanged in the dim glow of candlelight. You feel the weight of the small gift he gave you in your hands—a delicate, finely crafted pendant bearing a golden lion, its eyes set with tiny sapphires that gleam as brilliantly as your dragon’s scales. The pendant hangs from a fine chain, its design understated yet unmistakably Lannister in its symbolism. A promise, he had said, of all he wished to give you openly one day.

Lost in your thoughts, you’re about to slip the pendant safely into your cloak when a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Y/N.”

You freeze, fingers clenching around the pendant as you turn to see Daemon approaching, his expression unreadable but his gaze sharp and discerning. You quickly attempt to hide the pendant, tucking it within your palm, but Daemon’s keen eyes have already caught the glint of gold. In one swift movement, he reaches out, his hand closing over yours, trapping it gently but firmly.

“What have we here?” His tone is light, yet there’s a hint of scorn as he pries open your fingers, revealing the lion pendant. A dry scoff escapes his lips, and he shakes his head, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. “A Lannister, of all things. I knew it. You’re wasted on that lion.”

You snatch your hand back, narrowing your eyes at him as you close your fingers protectively around the pendant. “I am wasted on no one, Daemon. And Tyland is… more than you care to understand.”

He arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he studies you with that infuriating smirk, the one that’s always a touch too knowing. “Is that so? And what does he give you, this Lannister lord? Gold and promises of wealth? Words whispered in the dark with no courage to stand beside you in the light?” He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You could have anyone in the realm, yet you settle for the emblem of a gilded lion.”

You lift your chin, meeting his gaze with steady defiance. “Tyland gives me loyalty, Daemon. He respects my choices, my freedom. He does not seek to control or claim me.”

Daemon’s gaze darkens, the smirk slipping into something colder. “Freedom?” he echoes, scoffing. “Is that what you call hiding in shadows, sneaking through hidden passageways like some… common tryst?” He steps closer, his tone laced with both mockery and something sharper. “You think Tyland will be able to protect you? Or that his golden lion will stand against the wolves and dragons that surround you? You deserve more, Y/N.”

You feel a surge of anger rise within you, and you hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “And you think you’re the one to give me that ‘more’? I know well enough that my value is not measured by the strength of another’s claim, Daemon. Tyland sees me as his equal.”

Daemon’s eyes narrow, a flash of irritation breaking through his calculated calm. “An equal? You’re deluded, Y/N. He is a Lannister—loyal only to his coin, his house. They care nothing for you, not truly. He could never offer you the strength that comes from a true bond… nor the loyalty that I would give you.” His gaze flickers with something intense, something almost possessive, as he adds, “You could do far better than a lion.”

Your lips curve into a faint, bitter smile as you regard him, weighing your next words carefully. “Let me guess. You think that ‘better’ would be you?”

He steps even closer, his expression shifting to something almost serious, as though he’s prepared to make his case. “You could do far worse, that’s certain. I am not like these weak-willed lords and simpering knights. I am a dragon. I could be the only match worthy of a Targaryen princess.”

You laugh softly, the sound carrying a touch of derision as you meet his gaze head-on. “You, Daemon? You think I should accept you as some… consolation prize, simply because you couldn’t have Rhaenyra?”

A flash of anger crosses his face, his jaw tightening as he glares at you. “Consolation prize?” he echoes, his voice low, edged with offense. “I offer you the chance to stand beside someone with power, with fire. I am no one’s consolation, least of all yours.”

You hold his gaze, unflinching. “And I am not a fool, Daemon. I will choose my own path, my own love, whether it meets with your approval or not.”

He scoffs, taking a step back, his expression twisting into something bitter. “Fine. Run to your golden lion, then. But don’t come looking for protection when his courage fails him. You’ll find little security in Lannister promises.”

You lift your chin, refusing to be swayed by his words. “I would rather have Tyland’s loyalty in the shadows than empty promises in the light.”

Daemon stares at you for a long moment, his gaze a mixture of frustration and something almost like disappointment. With a sharp turn, he steps back, casting one last, scornful glance at the pendant in your hand before he walks away, his footsteps echoing through the Dragonpit.

Left alone, you turn back to Belerix, your fingers brushing over the pendant as you feel the strength of your resolve harden. Mounting your dragon’s saddle, you take a deep breath, the familiar weight of the pendant grounding you as Belerix shifts beneath you, his powerful form rising to life as you prepare to take to the skies. The wind begins to stir, lifting your hair as your dragon’s wings unfurl, and with a single command, Belerix launches into the sky, carrying you far from the whispers and judgments below.

The world grows smaller as you soar above it, and with the wind rushing past, you feel the quiet certainty of your choices, undeterred by Daemon’s doubts or the court’s expectations. You clutch the pendant in your hand, a reminder of all that you’ve chosen and all that awaits, knowing that wherever this path leads, you are the one who has forged it.

Daemon swings himself off his horse in the courtyard of the Red Keep, his face still etched with the simmering anger from his recent encounter with you. His hands tighten into fists as he hands the reins to a stable boy, muttering under his breath as he strides across the courtyard with purpose, his expression dark. The conversation with you had struck a nerve, and the sting of your words—your dismissal, your insistence on Tyland over him—echoed in his mind like a taunt he couldn’t shake.

As he approaches the entrance to the Great Hall, the murmurs of gathered courtiers fill the air, along with the faint, incessant clinking of goblets and quiet laughter. Daemon’s gaze sweeps across the hall, catching the familiar figure of Tyland Lannister standing among a small group of nobles, his typical calm composure present even as he engages in polite conversation. The sight of him, the man who had somehow claimed your affections, only deepens Daemon’s irritation.

Without hesitation, Daemon strides forward, his steps swift and direct. As he nears, he allows his shoulder to knock heavily into Tyland’s, a forceful impact that jolts Tyland, causing him to stumble slightly, his goblet tilting and splashing wine across his attire in an unexpected splash of deep crimson.

Daemon continues forward without so much as a glance back, his expression set, his gaze fixed ahead as if Tyland were nothing more than an obstacle in his path.

Tyland catches himself, setting his jaw as he looks down at the spilled wine, the dark stain spreading across his carefully chosen clothes. He straightens, recovering his composure, though there’s a glint of irritation in his eyes as he watches Daemon’s back disappear into the crowd. At his side, Jasper Wylde—who had witnessed the entire exchange—arches an eyebrow, a look of bemusement crossing his face as he turns to Tyland.

“Well,” Jasper murmurs, his tone dripping with curiosity, “what was that about, I wonder? Daemon Targaryen isn’t usually one to bump into people by accident.”

Tyland takes a measured breath, suppressing the anger that threatens to flare. “Indeed,” he replies, his tone calm but with an edge of controlled frustration. “I would hardly call it an accident.”

Jasper lets out a low chuckle, watching Daemon’s retreating figure with a wry smile. “It seems our Rogue Prince is in quite the mood today. He looked ready to set the whole hall aflame. Any idea why he’d be… targeting you, of all people?”

Tyland meets Jasper’s curious gaze, carefully choosing his words. “I wouldn’t presume to know what goes on in Prince Daemon’s mind,” he says coolly, brushing at the wine-stained fabric of his attire with a faint frown. “Though, one might assume he simply found himself… displeased with certain matters of late.”

Jasper smirks, his eyes narrowing with a knowing look. “Displeased, is he? Seems more personal than that.” He glances at Tyland’s stained attire, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Perhaps it’s not the first time he’s felt displaced, hmm?”

Tyland holds Jasper’s gaze, his expression composed but with a flicker of restrained irritation. “It would seem Prince Daemon has his own… grievances. I, however, am not inclined to play into his theatrics.”

Jasper chuckles, clapping Tyland on the shoulder with a conspiratorial smile. “Wise choice. Daemon is a man who’ll fight a losing battle for pride’s sake alone. Let him sulk—it’s clear enough he’s not getting what he wants.” He pauses, watching Tyland with a glint of curiosity. “Though it does make one wonder… what—or who—he might be after.”

Tyland’s gaze sharpens subtly, though he keeps his tone level. “Curiosity can be dangerous, Lord Jasper,” he replies, a faint smile touching his lips. “Daemon Targaryen is hardly the sort to be understood by idle speculation.”

Jasper raises his hands in a mock surrender, grinning. “A fair point, Lord Tyland. I wouldn’t want to get in the middle of… whatever this is.” He casts another glance at Daemon, who is now at the far end of the hall, his dark expression still set in brooding anger as he engages with another noble. “But it’s rare to see Daemon so ruffled. Something—or someone—has certainly put him off-balance.”

Tyland allows himself a subtle smirk, glancing down at the wine stain as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “As long as his frustrations remain… inconsequential, I see no reason to concern myself.”

Jasper nods, though a glint of amusement remains in his eyes as he watches Tyland. “Very diplomatic of you. But a word of advice: watch your back. Men like Daemon don’t take well to being denied. He may pretend otherwise, but I’d wager he won’t let this go so easily.”

Tyland inclines his head, his tone quiet yet firm. “I assure you, I am well aware of Prince Daemon’s… tenacity.”

With that, Tyland straightens, casting one last, composed glance in Daemon’s direction before resuming his place among the gathered nobles. Jasper remains beside him, though he continues to eye Tyland with an intrigued smile, clearly enjoying the spectacle of animosity unfolding between Daemon and the man who, by all appearances, seems to have won a place that Daemon might have coveted.

The Great Hall is alive with the hum of conversation, nobles mingling in clusters, laughter and polite chatter filling the space. Queen Alicent stands among a small group of courtiers, her posture poised and graceful, her every movement a study in restrained elegance. At her side, Ser Criston Cole watches over her with the quiet vigilance expected of the Queen’s sworn protector, his gaze scanning the room for any hint of trouble.

As the doors to the hall open with a soft thud, the energy shifts. Daemon strides in, his expression set, his eyes sharp as he surveys the room, and within moments, his presence demands the attention of nearly everyone. Alicent’s gaze narrows slightly as she observes his path through the hall, noting the faint tension that radiates from him. She watches as he approaches Tyland Lannister, their brief encounter marked by the distinct jolt of Daemon’s shoulder against Tyland’s, causing Tyland to stumble and spill his wine.

Alicent’s brow furrows, her lips pressed into a thin line as Daemon continues forward without so much as a glance back, his expression unreadable as he slips into the crowd. She leans slightly toward Criston, lowering her voice so only he can hear.

“Ser Criston,” she murmurs, her tone carrying an edge of curiosity laced with caution, “what do you make of that?”

Criston shifts his gaze from Daemon to Tyland, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he watches Tyland recover from the deliberate bump, Jasper Wylde at his side. After a pause, he leans toward her, speaking in a low, steady tone.

“It seems Prince Daemon has taken some… issue with Lord Tyland,” Criston observes carefully. “A rare display, considering Daemon’s usual disregard for the nobility.”

Alicent glances back at Daemon, her gaze calculating as she takes in the prince’s tense posture, the dark edge to his expression. “It’s unlike him, even so,” she remarks softly. “Daemon has never paid Tyland much mind before. Why now, I wonder?”

Criston’s expression darkens slightly, his jaw setting as he considers her words. “Perhaps Lord Tyland has found himself in the path of Daemon’s ambitions—or in possession of something Daemon wishes for himself.”

Alicent raises an eyebrow, glancing at Criston with a spark of interest in her gaze. “Possession, you say?” She tilts her head, studying Tyland’s composed expression, the stain of wine on his clothes still fresh. “He seems… unaffected. But then, Lord Tyland is not one to betray his emotions easily.”

Criston nods, his voice quiet but thoughtful. “Aye, my queen. Tyland Lannister is clever, careful. He keeps his cards close. But if there is animosity between him and Daemon, it may not remain hidden for long.”

Alicent’s gaze lingers on Tyland, the faintest trace of intrigue in her expression. “It would seem Daemon believes he has reason to make his displeasure known. But what could it be?” She glances back at Criston, her eyes narrowing with consideration. “You’ve watched him closely, Ser Criston. What do you think drives him?”

Criston’s eyes harden, a flicker of disdain for Daemon visible in his gaze. “Daemon is driven by a need for power, for control. And when he finds an obstacle in his path, he… removes it. I would not be surprised if he sees Lord Tyland as a threat or, perhaps, as a rival.”

Alicent’s lips curl in a faint, thoughtful smile, her gaze drifting back to where Tyland now stands with Jasper, a composed, unflinching figure despite the lingering evidence of Daemon’s aggression. “A rival… how curious.”

She pauses, her eyes narrowing as though piecing together a delicate puzzle. “And yet, Tyland has not risen above his station. His position is a modest one, politically speaking. Unless…” She trails off, her gaze sharpening with a glint of realization.

“Unless Daemon believes there’s something more personal at play,” Criston supplies, his tone carrying a note of caution. “It could be a matter of… affections. A lady’s favor, perhaps?”

Alicent’s eyes flash with interest, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, that could explain it.” She glances over her shoulder, ensuring their conversation remains private, before returning her attention to Criston. “And Daemon has never taken well to being denied something he desires.”

Criston’s expression remains stoic, though there’s a shadow of suspicion in his gaze. “If that is the case, then this… conflict may only escalate, Your Grace.”

Alicent sighs, her gaze thoughtful as she watches Tyland for a moment longer. “Indeed. It would do us well to observe. There are few things Daemon covets that he does not find a way to claim.” She pauses, her voice softening, an edge of something almost pitying in her tone. “And yet, he may have found a prize that cannot be won by force.”

She turns her gaze back to Criston, her expression hardening with determination. “Keep an eye on them both, Ser Criston. And if you see anything… noteworthy, I would have you tell me.”

Criston bows his head, a look of quiet loyalty in his eyes. “As you wish, my queen. I shall watch closely.”

Alicent nods, her gaze returning to the mingling crowd, her expression serene, yet her mind is clearly at work, already piecing together the dynamics at play between Daemon and Tyland. In the delicate game of power and influence, every player has their role—and she intends to ensure that, whatever happens, the interests of House Hightower remain firmly protected.

Rhaenyra steps into the Great Hall, her cheeks still slightly flushed from her own secret rendezvous with Harwin, the faintest hint of satisfaction lingering in her gaze as she surveys the room. The murmur of courtiers and the bright flicker of torches greet her, the familiar buzz of courtly life buzzing around her as she moves with practiced grace. Her eyes scan the crowd, and it doesn’t take long for her to spot Daemon, standing near the edge of the hall with a dark expression etched into his face, his posture stiff and brooding.

As soon as he catches sight of her, he strides forward, his steps swift and direct. Without preamble, he grabs her by the arm, his grip firm but not rough, guiding her toward a quiet alcove just out of sight of the prying eyes of court.

“Daemon,” she says sharply, though her voice is low, matching his urgency as she pulls her arm from his grasp. “What is this about?”

Daemon’s gaze burns with anger, his jaw clenched as he looks at her, his tone barely more than a growl. “Did you know?” he demands, his voice laced with accusation.

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest as she meets his gaze with a steady, unimpressed look. “Did I know what?”

Daemon’s eyes narrow, the anger in them dark and intense. “Did you know that it’s Tyland Lannister who holds your sister’s favor?” he hisses, his voice dripping with disdain. “A Lannister, Rhaenyra. She’s wasted on him.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flash with surprise, though she quickly composes herself, giving Daemon a warning look. “Daemon, keep your voice down,” she murmurs, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one is within earshot. “And yes, I knew. But that is no one’s business but hers.”

Daemon lets out a harsh, bitter laugh, shaking his head as though he can hardly believe it. “No one’s business?” he echoes, his tone mocking. “Your sister sneaks around the Red Keep with that lion, disgracing her Targaryen blood, and you think it’s no one’s business?”

Rhaenyra’s expression hardens, her voice firm as she speaks. “Daemon, she is free to make her own choices. Tyland may be a Lannister, but he has treated her with nothing but respect. And if she has chosen him, then we have no right to interfere.”

Daemon’s mouth twists into a sneer, his eyes flashing with contempt. “Respect? Lannisters know nothing of respect. They are schemers—liers wrapped in gold.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “I could end this now. One dead Lannister wouldn’t be missed, and Y/N would be free of his influence.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widen in alarm, and she steps forward, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Daemon, listen to yourself! You can’t simply… kill him. Do you understand what that would do? It would create a scandal the likes of which we might never recover from. Viserys would see it as nothing short of treason.”

Daemon scoffs, brushing off her warning with a dismissive wave. “Viserys is blind to what’s happening under his own roof. He wouldn’t even notice if Tyland were gone.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardens, her voice low but filled with authority. “You cannot let your jealousy guide you, Daemon. Tyland has done nothing to warrant your anger—other than winning her heart.”

He meets her gaze, his eyes simmering with frustration. “And that should be mine to win,” he mutters darkly, his voice barely audible. “You know I could protect her, Rhaenyra. I could give her something real, something worthy of a Targaryen.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softens, though she remains firm, her voice steady. “Daemon… she’s chosen. And it is not you.”

His face tightens, his jaw clenched as he looks away, his pride clearly wounded. “It should have been me.”

Rhaenyra sighs, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you care for her, Daemon, then let her be happy. Killing Tyland will not change her feelings—it will only make her hate you.”

He looks at her, his gaze conflicted, the fury in his eyes tempered by a flicker of doubt. “You’re asking me to do nothing, then? To stand by and watch her throw herself away on a lion?”

“I’m asking you to let her make her own choices,” Rhaenyra replies, her tone firm but compassionate. “And to respect those choices, even if they aren’t what you wanted.”

Daemon exhales, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggles with the warring emotions within him. After a long, strained silence, he finally nods, though his expression remains dark, brooding.

“Fine,” he mutters, though the resentment in his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Rhaenyra watches him carefully, relieved but cautious. “I wouldn’t expect you to be. But I do expect you to honor your family.”

Daemon casts her a final, frustrated glance before turning on his heel and striding away, leaving her in the shadowed alcove, the weight of his anger lingering in the air. Rhaenyra lets out a quiet sigh, her gaze thoughtful as she watches him go, hoping that, for once, her words will be enough to temper the storm brewing within him.

The moonlight streams through the narrow window of Tyland’s chambers, as you rest together in the quiet aftermath of your reunion. The warmth of his body is a comforting anchor against the cool evening air, and his arm is draped protectively around you, fingers tracing gentle circles on your bare shoulder as you lie entwined in the intimacy of each other’s embrace.

After the long hours of your flight on Belerix, the return to Tyland’s arms feels like coming home. His presence, steady and reassuring, wraps around you, grounding you in the quiet sanctuary of his room, away from the world’s prying eyes. The warmth of your shared moments lingers, your breaths soft and synchronized, an unspoken understanding settling between you.

Tyland shifts slightly, resting his chin atop your head as he speaks, his voice soft but tinged with a faint edge of frustration. “You missed quite the… spectacle in court today,” he murmurs, his fingers continuing their gentle pattern on your skin.

You glance up at him, your eyes searching his face. “Oh? What happened?”

He lets out a small sigh, his lips curving into a wry smile as he recounts the day’s events. “Our dear Prince Daemon made his entrance in a manner only he could manage. It seems his temper was… particularly sharp today.” Tyland pauses, his tone turning more serious as he looks down at you. “He took it upon himself to remind me of his displeasure—rather forcefully, I might add.”

You frown, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face as your fingers linger on his cheek. “What do you mean? Did he say something?”

Tyland gives a small shake of his head, though his eyes darken slightly as he recalls the encounter. “Not with words. Daemon has a… unique way of making his point without needing to say anything.” He gives a soft, humorless chuckle. “He decided to shoulder me in passing. I’d nearly forgotten how aggressive he can be when he feels slighted.”

Your hand tightens gently on his, a flicker of anger stirring within you at the thought of Daemon’s actions. “I’m so sorry, Tyland. Daemon can be… relentless when he thinks he’s been wronged.” You shake your head, exhaling softly. “I didn’t think he would confront you like that.”

Tyland’s lips curve into a small, reassuring smile as he strokes your hair. “I knew the risks, my love. And I would endure far more than a bump in passing for you.” His gaze softens as he continues, “But I don’t think he’s content to leave it at that. I saw the look in his eyes… it was as if he’s made it his mission to drive a wedge between us.”

You sigh, nestling closer to him, the familiar scent of his skin grounding you as you process his words. “Daemon doesn’t take kindly to being denied something he believes he deserves,” you murmur, frustration evident in your voice. “But he has no right to interfere with my choices. Or with you.”

Tyland’s fingers brush over your shoulder, his touch warm and soothing as he pulls you closer. “It’s you I worry for, more than myself. Daemon’s anger is… dangerous. If he can’t reach me directly, he might try to turn his schemes against you.” He pauses, a shadow crossing his face as he looks at you with quiet determination. “I would sooner face his ire than see you put in any kind of danger.”

Your heart aches at his words, a mixture of gratitude and frustration rising within you. “I hate that it’s come to this. That we have to hide, that you have to bear the brunt of his anger because of me.” You reach up, your fingers tracing the lines of his face with a tenderness that conveys all the words you can’t quite find. “But I won’t let him dictate my life, Tyland. No matter what he believes, my heart is my own, and it belongs to you.”

He gazes down at you, a warmth flickering in his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I would have it no other way, even if it means facing Daemon’s wrath. You are worth every risk, every moment of uncertainty.”

You settle against him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—a comforting sound that fills the quiet of the room, each beat grounding you in this rare, precious moment. For a time, neither of you speaks, content to let the peace of the night wrap around you like a protective shroud. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, you sense the weight of Tyland’s thoughts, the subtle tension lingering in his body, the unspoken fears woven into the silence.

Finally, he breaks the quiet, his voice a soft murmur. “I only wish we could live without these shadows hanging over us… without the need to look over our shoulders.”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze, your fingers tracing small, soothing circles on his chest. “Tomorrow,” you say, your voice filled with quiet determination. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell my father. The petitions for my hand have gone on long enough—enough to satisfy any House that was rejected.” You offer a faint, reassuring smile. “And I believe he will understand. He’s always encouraged me to follow my heart, even when the path is difficult.”

Tyland’s expression softens, relief and hope flickering in his eyes as he holds your gaze. A small, tender smile curves his lips. “Then I’ll be here, however long it takes. And if it must be in the shadows for a little longer, so be it. I’ll stand by you.”

You reach up, drawing him down to you, and your lips meet in a kiss filled with quiet promises, shared dreams, and a bond that feels as unbreakable as it is forbidden. The world outside may be filled with judgments and rivalries, but here, in the warmth of Tyland’s arms, you find a love untouched by Daemon’s anger or the court’s scrutiny.

As the night deepens, you lie together in silence, your shared resolve as strong as the connection between you. And with tomorrow’s promise hanging gently between you, you feel a glimmer of peace, knowing that, soon, the truth will no longer be hidden in the shadows.

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