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opaljm · 3 years

Text

yours, truly (m) – jjk

⟶ pairing: female reader x Jungkook

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genres & tropes: angst, future smut; arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, scorned lovers with a past, second chance romance, featuring ceo!jungkook & music producer!reader

⟶ summary: Ten years ago, you had run away from your family to pursue your dreams of becoming an idol. Eight years ago, those dreams were turned into dust and you were forced to beg your family to take you back in. Now, as a part of their agreement for making you a member of the illustrious Min family once more, you were forced to do their every bidding, including marrying the man you hated the most of all.

⟶ warnings/content tags: tension and hostility between Jungkook and the reader, flashbacks, talk of being a runaway teen, alluding to family problems/drama, producer shenanigans, dramatic jungkook, petty reader, this chapter is sfw!

⟶ length & status: 13k words; in progress

⟶ a/n: Hello welcome to Naia’s first (of several) long fics of this year. This is entirely free written which means there’s not really an outline. Outside of whatever chapter I am currently writing and a vague idea of how the only the next chapter after it will go, I am just going with the flow as far as the plot goes. So this is actually the third story of the Marital Bliss universe, however, you don’t need to read the other two fics before this to be able to enjoy this one. I will post the other chapter ones after this before I post chapter two for this fic. Just a head’s up. I plan on having the other two posted in May as well, though so don’t worry. I hope you guys enjoy this! Also sorry for the super long boring A/N at the beginning. You have @chateautae to thank for the surprise early drop lol! I hope you guys don’t mind that it’s not Friday. beta-read by the lovely @hantaev. The masterlist will be linked after all three stories’ first chapters are out!

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"𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚒𝚝

𝙷𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚒𝚝

𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑

𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎, 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑,"

𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙱𝚎𝚎𝚛, 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑

The mansion that the Parks had acquired for the night was certainly magnificent. The chateauesque building was built in the late 1800s, and with its blend of Gothic and Beaux-Arts architecture, it created a massive, ornate space that evoked a sense of splendor and grandeur. The inhabitants of the first floor, that had been completely opened for the celebration, only furthering that impression with the women in their long floor-length gowns, long ropes of pearls hanging from both their necks and ears, and giant golf ball sized stones adorning the rings on their left hands while the men were decked out in three piece dark suits, livening up their outfits with the pointed toes of their leather shoes, and the wristwatches on their right arms often going up to six figures.

You were on the periphery of the wild crush of people, nearly hugging the edge of the room like a wallflower, a wine glass in your right hand, your wrist kept snapping, idly swishing around the burgundy contents of your glass. Your plush lips were wet from the constant sips you had indulged yourself in, stained a deep berry red from what must have been two or three, or possibly even five, glasses of cabernet sauvignon. Your gaze flickered to the starlet of the night, the main reason that all of you have congregated this evening. Little baby Park, your niece through marriage, was in her father’s arms in a petal pink flouncy Dolce & Gabbana princess dress. Her pin-straight black brown hair had been neatly arranged into a cute half down half up do, in one of the few designs she could have due to the short length of her hair, and the updo part was sticking straight up like a fluffy apple stem behind the diamond barrette that was holding it up.

Her parents were celebrating her first birthday with a massive fete, though graciously they had decided to accommodate their guests and make the event on a Saturday, rather than the following Tuesday when her birthday really was, so baby Park wasn’t even a year old. She was an adorable baby you thought to yourself, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. You tried to keep your resentment from taking hold of you: your niece had done nothing to deserve your ire, she was an innocent babe. And yet, jealousy was still so hard for you to break free of, wanting your own little girl as well, knowing that you would probably never get her.

Her mother joined them, the daughter instantly holding her arms out for her mama. Her mother was a gorgeous woman, two or three inches shorter than her husband, creating the perfect height difference between the pair. Other than the similar eye shape and color she shared with your husband, the siblings didn’t have much in common other than their otherworldly beauty that made them the most attractive people in any room they stood in. Every single member of your husband’s family was breathtakingly gorgeous, from your coldhearted parents-in-law, to your disgust, your husband, who turned heads wherever he went.

Based on observation, seeing your sister-in-law and her family in the passing for the last couple of days, you had a feeling that she was the favored parent. You felt like you were in the minority with your belief however, because any time anyone ever talked about your niece, the conversation shifted to how she was her father’s mini-me with plump cheeks, sleepy eyes, and the cutest pouty lips and how that must have also translated into her being a Daddy’s girl.

It wasn’t that Jimin wasn’t a good father and didn’t spoil her needlessly, you just saw past the biased misogynistic lenses that everyone else had adorned and saw that all of the similarities between her and her father didn’t quite translate into her loving her father the most, but rather being just like him, down to sharing the same exact favorite person: the woman who had cozied up by her husband’s side and held her toddler daughter in her arms, a patient look of love and amazement painting her face as she attentively listened to her baby babble to her. But this could’ve all just been your alcohol-addled musings; you had rarely been sober any time you were in the presence of your family members by marriage.

You raised your glass for another sip, frowning against the rim before you could swallow the complex acidic burgundy liquid. If your sister-in-law was in the front with the rest of her nuclear family then where the fuck was－

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” your husband said, sidling up to you.

Your frown deepened into a grimace, Jeon Jungkook looked good to your complete and utter disappointment. It was a thought that had plagued you every single one of the rare times he was in your presence. He was wearing a custom tailored suit from Louis Vuitton, his jacket was entirely open showing the bright white dress shirt underneath and his neck was missing a tie. You couldn’t even remember if he had left the hotel with a tie on, so careful were you in your avoidance and ignorance of your husband. He had made the right decision in getting rid of his tie if he had had one initially, you decided, even if his outfit looked a little incomplete. By its virtue of being all black, it went well with your midnight blue Alexander McQueen gown.

“Have you been here the entire time?" Jungkook asked. “You disappeared pretty fast after they introduced us when we came in. My sister wanted to thank you for the birthday present you got, although she thinks we went a little overboard.”

You stared unseeingly into the murky red depths of your wine glass. You felt sick of it, you would surely hurl if you took another sip. You hadn’t even eaten, the waiting staff never quite made their way to the corners of the room with the hors d’oeuvres like they did with the alcohol. Dinner was in half an hour, you thought, but it might have been running late since no one else seemed as eager to sit down and eat like you were.

Jungkook leaned in, his overgrown dark bangs brushing against the side of your head as his frustrated whisper tickled over the shell of your ear. His hair which usually reminded you of a perfectly round coconut or a brown sugar soaked tapioca pearl, or perhaps you were just incredibly famished and hallucinating, had grown out enough that the tresses were wavy and framing his face in a devastatingly becoming manner.

“I told you I was going to take care of the gift. You should’ve listened to me. Did you think I wouldn’t put your name on it? I’m not like that Y/N. At least she didn’t realize that this was a result of a communication error and thinks we just want to spoil our only niece.”

You couldn’t take this anymore. Your eyes continued to harden with barely concealed abhorrence and your teeth were so tightly clenched that your jaw was starting to ache. You simply did not have it within you to play one half of a happily married couple with Jungkook, right now.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” you announced abruptly, cutting Jungkook’s monologue short. You finally managed to dispose of the glass that had been holding your right hand captive for the entire evening by thrusting it at one of the waiting staff who had been conveniently walking by with an empty tray over his arm.

“I’ll take you there,” Jungkook said.

With one of your eyebrows raised, you asked, “Why? You’re not a girl. I don’t have to travel in pairs with men to go to the restroom.”

“I know,” Jungkook said with a defeated sigh, tired of your contrariety, “I just didn’t think you knew the layout too well. You’ve never been here before.”

“I’m fine,” you retorted, wrapping the sheer tulle cape that was sewn onto the dress’s shoulders, made of the same fabric and color as the rest of your gown just more transparent, even more fully around your form. You stalked away from him, your body tightened into a hard line as your figure made its way across the vast expanse of the room towards the interior exits.

Jungkook almost let you go by yourself before he realized he hadn’t talked to you all that much today. He quickly started to move, his feet picking up speed as he followed along your footsteps. By the way your nude Kate, Louboutin heels hurried along that much more swiftly, he knew that you had realized he wouldn’t be leaving your side for the rest of the night. The glittering chandeliers overhead did excellent work casting light down on the entire room, the geometric prisms of crystals shining rainbow rays of light over your figures, making you appear angelic. Jungkook was enraptured as he followed in your footsteps, rushing to make sure you didn’t disappear from his sight.

[almost ten-ish years ago]

Dragging the toe of your shiny leather loafers along your left calf to help pull your white stockings back up, that had ridden down, pooling around your ankle, you found yourself lingering in front of the Chun-Ah Arts High School, reluctant to make your way inside, waiting to see if you would be able to see him again. You were sure you two were in different grades so you never really got to see him during school hours and knew that seeking him out then would be futile. But sometimes, you would get lucky in the mornings before he headed to the east where the school gymnasium and fields were and you headed to homeroom since you didn’t have any friends to hang out with in the mornings.

You had run away to Seoul two days after your fifteenth birthday, after getting an offer to become a trainee at a small entertainment company known as Big Shot, much to the displeasure of your rich family living in Daegu. They could hardly comprehend why you would want to throw away a life of security and wealth all on the pipe dream of becoming an idol. When you had moved to Seoul, your family had kicked you out of the will and taken away your trust fund, telling you that you would no longer be associated with the Min’s hotel chain legacy.

The thought of your family made a wry smirk take over your lips; when you had dropped out of the Jeong Finishing School for Exemplary Girls, the first female in your family in generations to leave the school without honors, your family thought you had ruined your future. Little did they know, you would be starting your second semester of sophomore year at the fancy Chun-Ah Arts school in Seoul.

When you first started at Big Shot, you had quickly realized that maybe you had been naive and living in a privileged bubble, having to dorm in a studio apartment with ten other girls. The type of jealousy and backbiting at the agency was different from the kind you had experienced in your all-girls school. Here the fights weren’t about boyfriends or stealing one of a kind Dior sweaters to dump in bright red paint for revenge. The sabotage was more physical, with girls trying to claw their way to the top to be the stand out talent in a group line up. The mind games were more psychological, with girls doing anything and everything to undermine each other’s evaluations, hoping to be that rare, that special individual, who would be considered talented enough to potentially debut as a solo artist.

And then, as more trainees came in, soon there wasn’t enough time for the vocal coaches to teach everyone better vocal techniques, for the choreographers to help the struggling trainees memorize their dances, for songwriters to help aspiring rappers find their flow and improve their lyricalities. You were on the brink of getting cut and being thrown out on the street homeless, when your cousin Yoongi, the black sheep of the family, who was struggling to make his own dreams of becoming a music producer suggested that you apply to Chun-Ah as a scholarship student and make use of their renowned music department where it had famous retired vocalists and dancers as the teachers. With Yoongi’s help you were able to prepare for the entrance exam, excel in the interview and performance portions and even write a heartbreaking story of how you were a homeless youth who had been kicked out of her family for wanting to pursue her dreams.

You had impressed the academy’s admissions panel greatly, allowing you to enter the school midway through the year, but since entering, you kept finding yourself disappointed with how things were at the school. For one thing, you would have thought with how rigorous and extensive the application process was, not to mention how expensive the application, uniforms, and tuition were, your classmates would have been more talented. You weren’t expecting them to be Maria Callas or Joshua Bell or Michael Jackson, but you did think they would be a little more talented than Vine dancers, Youtube song cover singers, and garage band musicians. Especially for individuals whose parents were part of the one percent and could afford to give them the best tutors and tools to excel. But on your second day of school, to your immense dismay, you found a sophomore abusing his 300 year old Stradivarius violin in front of the school’s giant Grecian inspired water fountain by basically grating the bow against the strings with how roughly he was playing﹣no scratch that﹣handling the instrument.

It didn’t take you long to realize the sham that was the Chun-Ah Arts High School. The school created fake competitions with arbitrary rules where they would divide the winners for each category based on the biggest donors to the institute. It wasn’t based on talent at all. And based on these awards and accreditations buffeting their resumes and applications to illustrious foreign universities, the students at Chun-Ah would be able to get into the Fine Arts, Visual and Performing Arts, Theater, and Athletics departments, more easily than they would’ve been able to get into the more exclusive medical, law, or business departments and then easily change their majors once they were already accepted.

If only you had known about the USA college admissions scandal that would become uncovered a few years later, which would reveal some of the more shady things that foreign students had done to get accepted with their American classmates. Of course, not everyone at Chun-Ah was a bad egg trying to take advantage of the system, but there were definitely enough that had you raising an eyebrow. You were sure you would have been angerier if you actually wanted the number one class rank, if you knew about the exam keys that could be bribed off of teachers manipulating the entire class rank system, but you were just here to hone your skills as a singer and performer so you generally left it alone.

That didn’t mean that you were excited to go to school each day though, there was bullying and backbiting at the agency and there was also more of the same at the school. Sure the rich kids and starving artists played by different rules and prized different things, but they all hated you, the common denominator. Every time you saw a girl laugh behind her palm at your ill-fitting uniform or make fun of the fact that you were a scholarship student, you couldn’t help but think to yourself how glad you were to have removed yourself from that life. If they had realized the Min in your last name stood for one of the most powerful families in not only Daegu but the entire country, you were sure they would’ve changed their tone quickly and begged to be your friends. Personally you were glad that your newfound poverty made them remove that mask of civility they donned for other people in their circle.

But then you had discovered the voice, the tipping point of the scale that made you prefer school to the company and lie to your manager that you were taking extra lessons after school. During morning announcements one day, a period where you usually spend your time looking out the window and counting all the falling dead brown leaves in the winter, the school choir had been invited to sing the school anthem before Sports Day. There was a voice that stood apart from the rest. It was a male tenor, whose voice was soft and lyrical, a bright angelic tone following his words and painting it with a soothing harmony. You were immediately captivated, because not only was this your first exposure to real raw talent in the school but also because of the hypnotic beauty to the voice. You immediately found yourself wanting to know who it belonged to, and with a little eavesdropping of your classmates, you found out that it belonged to a mister “Jungkook,” according to Hair Spray Helmet and her minions Excessive Lip Gloss Applier and Overplucked Eyebrows, who all sighed dreamily as they fawned over him.

To your dismay, Jungkook was not only talented but also exceedingly attractive. The male would always wear either a gray or black Comme Des Garcons hoodie under his school jacket and occasionally have a red slouchy beanie perched on his head, in a devastating combination of prep and rockstar. His black gauges and staple wheat colored Timberlands were all it really took to cement your infatuation with him. And as a teenage girl with no family, who had to deal with the struggles of an idol trainee, you would take whatever small joys you would find wherever you could find them.

Today Jungkook was later than usual and as the first warning bell rang, you found yourself worrying your bottom lip with your teeth, wondering if you should already head into class to avoid getting a penalty mark on your record. As you had finally made up your mind, he ran past you, almost barreling you down as he tugged a much shorter girl behind him. The female looked fragile and angelic, probably the most beautiful person you had ever seen, excluding Jungkook but he was a male. You bit the inside of your cheek, tasting blood and swallowing it down, you found your gaze hardening in their direction as you made your own way to homeroom, which you were now late to thanks to him.

Fifteen minutes ago, when Jungkook was by his sister’s side and not waiting for his wife to come out of the restroom, he had been congratulating his sister for how well her marriage had been going, only two years in. His sister deserved happiness and she had found it with Jimin and their daughter in their new home. The pair had moved to the States before Jieun had been born as Jimin got an offer to be a Korean American pharmaceutical company’s COO.

“How’s your marriage going with Y/N, we’ve never had a moment alone where I could check in with you,” his sister asked, smiling as she absentmindedly fiddled around with the two row diamond encrusted band of her gold Harry Winston wedding ring. “I know it’s still in its early stages. But, you like her right? So it must be going more smoothly than mine and Jimin’s was at the beginning. And I’m really sorry I missed it.”

Jungkook painted his face with what he hoped was a believable look of happiness and contentment, he didn’t need his younger sister to worry over him. “We’re fine. Y/N is just really busy all the time. You know how she’s a producer at HYP.E, and ever since father has been giving me more and more responsibilities at the company I’ve been busy too. We’re fine, we just haven’t really been able to see each other too much. It’s fine ___, maybe we’ll do a vow renewal one day and you can be there for that.”

“Right of course, that must be why we’ve barely been able to see her this past week without her getting swept away only moments after,” his sister nodded, “A vow renewal, that sounds nice.” Her smile looked a little forced after his answer, but she continued the conversation, “I have to thank you guys for getting Jieun so many presents. Frankly I think it’s a little much, but Jimin’s all for it. He thinks Jieun-ie deserves the world. But in between your presents that you dropped off at the house earlier and the shipments we’ve been getting the past two weeks from Y/N you both went all out. You really didn’t have to. She’s a growing toddler, spending thousands of dollars on shoes and dresses she can’t wear in two months is a little much.”

That must’ve been what you had gotten for his niece. Until this moment Jungkook hadn’t even known you would bother; he had thought to make up for what he thought would be your absence by signing off on gifts in both your names.

“Did Jieun enjoy the toys I dropped off?” Jungkook asked, rubbing his palms together. His wedding band glinted on his left hand, mocking him.

“That tricycle you dropped off terrifies Jimin. He doesn’t want to let her on it, he thinks it’s a death trap.”

“No, no,” Jungkook protested, “It’s completely safe, it just looks badass and is also electric. She’s gonna be the coolest kid in her neighborhood as soon as she learns to take more than two steps without falling and can actually ride that thing.”

“Jimin’s very protective you know,” his sister murmured, a soft smile on her lips, “I think he’ll be more open to the bike in a couple of years.”

“I don’t blame him,” muttered Jungkook, “I would be protective too, if I had so much I cared for.”

“Oh she’s asking for me,” his sister exclaimed, it seemed that even half a room away, her eyes were always on her daughter. “Do you want to come with me? She loves her Uncle Googie.”

Jungkook let out an amused chortle, “Nah it’s fine. I think Jimin’s threatened by how much she likes me.” He stiffened his jaw and put on theatrics, popping his collar in self-admiration.

“Don’t,” she protested. His sister clapped a hand over her mouth, covering up her accidental giggles, that kept easily slipping out. She had missed being able to converse and laugh with her brother, the one downside of moving away from home. “I don’t want him getting into another existential crisis that our children won’t like him. The nine months I was pregnant were hell.”

Jungkook’s responding chuckle was light and airy, “I’m just having some fun. You guys are great parents. Jieun is really lucky,” he admitted. “I think I am actually going to go look for Y/N, she’s missing out on all this familial fun. I’ll be sure to find you later when you’re getting Jieun ready for the cake cutting.”

“We’ll probably end up cutting the cake ourselves,” his sister admitted drily, “I don’t intend to have a knife in my one year old’s hand for longer than necessary. But, when you find Y/N, bring her around. We’d love to get a couple of pictures with the family to mark the occasion.”

But that was then. Right now, he was leaning against the gilded wallpaper that lined the walls of the hallway, a beautiful spread of cloudy white with cherubic angels that were adorned with golden halos and harps. There were multiple powder rooms that had been converted for public use, and you had spent way more time than he would’ve thought in the restroom. He was considering asking the next person to come by to ask you if you were alright in there since you weren’t answering his texts, but for now he would just have to scroll through the barrage of unread emails he still had sitting in his work inbox.

Meanwhile in the powder room, you were making use of the serpentine shaped tête-à-tête that lined the center of the room, providing seating for those who needed a break from the partying, you supposed. It worked out well for you actually; instead of having to sit over an open toilet in your seven thousand dollar dress, not even the fancy toilets in Chateau French le French had lids on them, scrolling through your phone, you could just do it out in the open where sink area had seats in the middle. The smell of linen and potpourri was overwhelming, but you’d do anything to wait out your husband until he got bored enough and left. You opened up the snow app and took a few pictures with the flower halo filter, sending them off to the HYP.E producer group chat you had with your work colleagues, individuals you’d found yourself to consider like friends.

Lee Sunmi Unni ♡: So cute Y/N

Min Yoongi (work): I thought this was a baby shower

Min Y/N: it’s my niece’s first birthday party

You scowled, your cousin was annoyingly and intentionally uncomprehending at times.

Min Yoongi (work): where is baby??

Min Yoongi (work): cake???

POTY Kim Namjoon: I know this is the fun group chat where we try to avoid talking about work things

POTY Kim Namjoon: Y/N you need to put out a fire for the new Stray Together album. They’ve suddenly decided that the second digital single won’t work after all. I’ve tried to help the situation, switching around the lyrics, adding more of a synthe vibe to the song. They hate it.

POTY Kim Namjoon: How soon do you think you could come back?

Finally. An excuse. You sighed in relief although you knew that redoing the second digital single completely from scratch would be a headache and a half this late in the game. But you would rather spend every moment of your waking and sleeping hours in the HYP.E building rather than spending another second in America with Jungkook, pretending you were the picture perfect newly wed couple.

Min Y/N: If you buy me the earliest redeye out of here, I can leave tonight and be back before noon tomorrow.

POTY Kim Namjoon: I’ll let the business manager know and handle the expense. See you soon Y/N.

POTY Kim Namjoon: Sorry for cutting the party short.

Min Y/N: anything for the company

Min Yoongi (work): ::eye roll::

After that message, you slid your cellphone back into the vividly dark blue clutch you had chosen for the evening. Taking a moment to tidy up your dress, the skirt had shifted around while you were comfortably ensconced in the cozy mustard yellow velvet seats of the tête-à-tête, you absentmindedly wondered if you should blot and powder your face, perhaps freshen up that pale pink MAC lipstick you had painting your lips. Anything to get through the tedious minutes at the party until Namjoon’s business manager emailed you the flight confirmation that had the departure time, you supposed.

Jungkook, that oblivious husband of yours had picked steak for both of your meals for the evening, even though you had abstained from eating red meat at the wedding, due to your sensitivity to red meat. It wasn’t as though you were a vegan but you did avoid eating meat when there were alternatives. There had been a fancy lobster option too, your favorite, but you supposed you would have to have to do with the vegetable medley and creamy potato and mushroom side. As a grumble overtook your stomach, you wondered what the cake flavor was to celebrate your niece’s first birthday. Could one year olds even eat cake? Were they still breastfed? It was a good thing you were never going to let Jungkook touch you. You weren’t completely sure that you would make a great mother. Jungkook and you as parents was a recipe for disaster, your children would end up needing lifelong therapy.

To your utter disappointment, and he knew it too if the instant dimming of his features were anything to go by when he saw the deep scowl painting your face, Jungkook was still there waiting for you when you finally made it out. He peeled himself away from the opposite wall, his hair looking a little softer and more rumpled deeper into the evening.

“Are you okay?” he asked, frowning. “You took a while in there, I was starting to worry. I think I even contemplated asking one of the ladies waiting in line to go check up on you.”

You scowled, your eyebrows turning into an angry vee, with flashing eyes you hissed, “I’m on my period, you asshole.”

Jungkook stilled in embarrassment, “O-oh, I’m s-sorry.” he stuttered, “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to humiliate you. I was just worried that you had gotten injured or you were in trouble or something.”

“In the ladies’ room?” you scoffed incredulously. You sniffed and picked up the pace, heading for the dining area; you knew Jungkook would just follow in your footsteps, like the well trained dog he thought himself to be.

Almost as though Jungkook had heard your condemning thoughts, he lengthened his strides so that he was half a step of you while walking to your left. “We’re sitting with my sister and her family,” he notified you.

He was attempting to take back control, not that you would hand it over so easily.

You stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway at his words. “Tell me something, Jeon, do you think I’m an idiot?”

Jungkook furrowed his brows at you, “Why would I think you were an idiot? Y/N, can you please stop picking fights with me? At least while we’re in public? I don’t understand what I ever did to earn your ire.”

You laughed hollowly, “You don’t, huh? Well let me educate you: I would prefer to live my life pretending you don’t exist, but somehow you seem to be against that idea.”

“Well, of course I am, Y/N. I’m attempting to make our marriage work,” Jungkook retorted.

You held your tongue and started to walk again, just another hour or so and you wouldn’t have to see him anymore, you comforted yourself. When you guys finally found yourselves in the dining area, Jungkook’s sister and her husband were gesturing at you two to go to their table which was placed on a podium that made their seats a little higher than everyone else’s and visible to the entirety of the room. Feeling spiteful, you pulled out your own chair before Jungkook could do it for you. The Parks, excluding the baby, stared at you two in bewilderment as Jungkook sullenly took his seat next to you. Your niece was belted into a high chair and let out a cry when she realized no one was paying attention to her.

“Jieun-ie what’s wrong? You want Appa to hold you?” Jimin asked. You thought he was four years older than Jungkook, though you were not entirely sure as he hadn’t attended your wedding and was usually at work when Jungkook would force you to visit his sister and niece, which would make him about five years older than you, if your math was correct. The male looked dashingly handsome in his head to toe black Prada ensemble, a skinny dark tie contrasted his white button down that only peeked out at the top behind his closed suit jacket. His honey blond hair was slicked away from his forehead revealing a gorgeous hairline. You admired his nerve, rocking bleached hair, dangly Chrome Hearts cross earrings that adorned his ears, and chunky silver rings lined his right hand, leaving his left empty except for its wedding band, two layers of yellow and white gold that complimented his wife's golden ring. Jimin didn’t play by the same rules that the corporate assholes in Korea did, even Jungkook had gotten rid of his gauges when he had accepted his position at Jeon Pharmaceuticals, and you thought it made him look badass. Your niece had lucked out with some pretty awesome parents when they were so rare in the circles that you all kept with.

“Abba no,” Jieun pouted, was that her name? You had honestly forgotten it. The toddler’s plump pale pink lips formed a little chick beak with every word she said as she attempted to enunciate to the best of her abilities.

“Appa,” Jimin said patiently, holding eye contact with Jieun. The tot’s face scrunched up and you felt like she was seconds away from a meltdown; if Jimin said the wrong thing one more time, it would be game over.

His wife sensed it too, which was why she immediately interrupted the silent war between father and daughter, “Or perhaps Jieun wants to have fun with someone new? She must be tired of us monopolizing her all the time, Jimin-ah. Jungkook oppa, would you like to hold her? Or you, unni?” she asked.

“M-Me?” you stuttered in surprise when everyone’s attention at the table went to you, “Um, maybe later when she’s a little older.”

“So, maybe, on her real birthday next Tuesday?” she said agreeably.

“May-Maybe,” you stammered. You didn’t even remember the last time you had held a child. Jieun was definitely the last child you were near, but before her, you didn’t think you had been around one since your cousin Sunye had given birth when you were in middle school.

“Jieun you wanna sit in Uncle Googie’s lap?” Jungkook asked the toddler, focusing his sparkling doe eyes on her. He stretched out his arms and to his delight, Jieun stretched hers out too, babbling “Googie, Googie,” as she stared, enraptured at her uncle.

His sister helped remove her from the high chair so that she could sit comfortably in Jungkook’s arms as the table waited for the servers to come around. But before they did, Jimin stood up and held out a hand to help his wife up so they could thank everyone for coming and give a short toast to their daughter.

When the waiter put the filet mignon in front of you, you sighed glumly and wondered if you had past your threshold of wine for the evening. Sitting in the powder room had sobered you a bit, but you knew that you were going to have a massive hangover the next day. Though Jungkook was distracted with Jieun, it appeared that your sister-in-law had noticed that you were moving your food around with your fork, not really eating anything.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, “Is the filet mignon not cooked to your liking?”

“I don’t really eat red meat,” you admitted, “I have a sensitivity to it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” she worried, “We had vegetarian options too. Would you like me to go to the kitchen and ask the chef if he can wrestle up something for you? I don’t want you to go hungry.”

You smiled wanly, “It’s fine ___, I have to fly out later tonight to catch a flight back home to put out some fires at work. I’ll eat something in the waiting area or in flight.”

You felt Jungkook turn around, his stare burning through you, but you refused to acknowledge him. What did he care if you were going to South Korea early? It wasn’t as thought you two slept in the same bed or kept the same schedule.

“That could be hours from now,” his sister fretted, “Switch plates with me, Y/N. I got the lobster if you enjoy seafood. I had to give up being vegetarian during my pregnancy due to my anemia, and you know, I still struggle with my iron levels, the steak will be good for me.There’s nothing like a well done steak to compliment such an important occasion.”

“Um okay,” you said hesitantly. There was no way you were going to eat your plate and you had been thinking about the lobster all night. Your sister-in-law didn’t look too sad over exchanging plates either. You thought nothing of the exchange, so focused were you on enjoying your meal and avoiding the table’s conversation until she went to talk to the caterers about the cake and Jimin deserted the table, taking Jieun from Jungkook’s arms, to make his rounds as the host, ensuring that everyone was enjoying their meals and interacting with the guest of honor.

“Why did you do that,” Jungkook asked coldly, “You could have told me you didn’t like red meat when I was signing the RSVP. Look at their plates, she hasn’t touched the beef at all.”

You looked up from where you were dipping a piece of lobster into the delicious butter sauce, “You never asked me. You assumed what I wanted, just like you always assumed what I wanted. We had steak for our wedding luncheon too. I never ate a bite of it. But of course you never noticed it.”

There was a tiny pinprick of guilt in your gut when you noticed that her plate had been pushed towards her husband’s. Jimin had finished his filet it appeared, and was trying to help his wife with hers so no food was wasted. There was a piece of steak still speared to her fork and you noticed that her knife was lying next to where she had made the cut into the filet mignon. The center of the meat had a reddish hue to it. You blinked, it was medium rare. Hadn’t ___ said she was looking forward to eating your well-done steak? Ah, there it was: the deepening remorse you had been desperately trying to avoid earlier. You suddenly realized that she must have gone to the caterer’s not only to talk about the cake cutting time but also because she was famished and wanted a little something to nibble on.

“It’s not my fault,” you sniffed callously, “___ offered it to me.” You were not going to let Jungkook blame this on you.

“You’re leaving tonight,” he asked.

“I am not talking about this with you right now,” you spat, “we’re at a party.”

Jungkook’s jaw hardened until there was a stubborn set to it, his lips were pressed tightly together, that little mole underneath his bottom lip contrasting sharply with his pale skin, “I am not letting this go, Y/N, you are not leaving before we talk about this, even if the conversation has to take place in the car before you’re dropped off at the airport.”

“It would be more convenient for you to ride home with your sister’s family. Haven’t they offered you a room while you stick around for Jieun’s actual birthday?” you drawled, “you’re only wasting your time if you get into the car with me, Jeon.”

Jungkook glowered, a lock of his dark hair falling over his eyes, “Actually no it wouldn’t be, because you turned down their offer to house us and I couldn’t stay with them, leaving my new wife in a hotel by herself, unless I wanted them to think that my marriage was already in trouble. Did you forget the person you are sharing that large suite at the Ritz-Carlton with?”

You let out a faint snort, “Our marriage is in trouble. By the way did I tell you? I want a divorce.” You laughed again mockingly, “Although, it’s never been consummated, so truly we should really be seeking an annulment. But I doubt you want that news to get out. So a divorce, it is. I’m tired of this bullshit, I’ll deal with whatever fallout there is, after the fact. I refuse to be shackled to you any longer,” you spewed venomously.

Jungkook stared at you; doe eyes giant in their surprise, mouth gaping in shock with bunny teeth visible in between thinned lips. Before he could so much as retort, the host’s table was suddenly full again with the Parks presence.

“Who wants to eat some cake?” Jimin asked, holding a sheathed knife adorned with a bow in his hand. Two waiters were pushing a multi-tiered rustic cake adorned with fruit and bare of frosting on the sides. A naked cake you scowled, how disgusting. Why would they make a child eat a boring concoction of dry vanilla chiffon, probably sour unripe fruit, and deflating whipped cream? Where was the rich german chocolate and fudge frosting that you, yourself used to yearn for as a child and did so even now.

“Actually,” you interrupted, patting your mouth dry with a napkin and standing up, “I’m afraid I’ll have to take my leave a little earlier than expected. I’m sure I’ll have another opportunity to enjoy cake with you all in the future.”

“Uh, yes of course,” your sister-in-law faltered, she looked in between you and Jungkook for answers, trying to catch either of your eyes, but you knew she would not gain any insight, definitely not from you and not now from Jungkook. She would have to at least wait until after the guests had left at the very earliest, for a moment when she could have a bit of privacy with her brother.

“Would you two be a dear and drive him home after the party? Oh actually,” you mused, in seemingly deep thought, “Could you two take him home with you, I’d feel awfully guilty about Jungkook staying all alone in our giant hotel room after I’ve left.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed ___. “Jungkook oppa, spend the rest of your time here in our home! Jieun would love to get to spend more time with you before you had to leave for Korea. And you know, I would love it too.”

“Well it looks like that’s settled,” you fixed a giant fake smile on your face, “You all have to get together with us the next time you’re back in the country. Saengil chukhahaeyo, Jieun-ie. Bye bye, sweetheart.” Your farewell was for the darling child and Jungkook knew it from the frown that got deeper and darker, although your sister-in-law and her husband would just think that you were doting on your husband.

You left without looking back although you knew that despite you getting further and further with each step of your nude Louboutins, Jungkook’s hard glare to your back never faltered.

[eight-ish years ago]

Jungkook hated university. His parents had turned down his offers at Seoul National, Korea, and Yonsei universities after the half of dozen acceptances that he had gotten from schools abroad. The most prestigious of the batch? Stanford University, where Jungkook had gotten into the business program, which had a heavy conversion rate of students then getting into the university’s MBA program for graduate school. As the son of the CEO of the biggest pharmaceutical company in South Korea, and soon of all the four tiger countries if the expansion went as his father planned, Jungkook was expected to follow in his footsteps. After flying through his school courses at an accelerated rate, he was expected to move back to Seoul and take over the mantle at the company, just like his father wanted. His father would remain on the board of directors to keep Jungkook firmly under his thumb, but the plan was to have Jungkook take over the CEO position before he turned twenty-five.

But he hated university so vehemently. Getting a 110 on his TOEFL, acing his SATs, and even being on International Baccalaureate hadn’t really helped Jungkook understand the nuances of English language outside of an academic setting. And even though he understood 80-85% of what his classmates were saying to him, he didn’t always understand the slang, which would leave him scratching his head. Stanford undergrads did not speak the way his English tutor did, but then again the man had been a middle-aged Oxford graduate with a PhD in British Literature, who had moved to Korea after having a midlife crisis that had him chasing Asian women half his age in his spare time.

His roommates were also kind of mean, although Jungkook wasn’t entirely certain if it was intentional or not. They talked too fast and when he would try to converse with them, they would stare at him blankly, making Jungkook stammer into a stop, self-conscious of his accent.

He didn’t know why they hated him so much. At first he had thought it was racism, but then Jungkook had realized that one of them was an engineering student who had a full-ride scholarship and the other was a firmly middle class economics major that had taken out excessive student loans to attend Stanford. So in his attempt to be a more understanding roommate, sympathetic to their socioeconomic struggles, Jungkook had started offering them meals out on his dime or trips to San Francisco, where Jungkook would drive them and pay for everything they did. If anything however, that had just made the resentment build even more. Jungkook seemed to have hurt their pride.

Outside of the cold front that existed in his dorm suite, Jungkook was struggling a bit with his courses. He liked math the best because it was all numbers, no words. Nothing could get lost in translation there; there was nothing he could possibly misinterpret. But the first essay he had written, he had gotten back with an angry red C+ on the front. He had been horrified; in all his IB courses he had never once gotten anything less than a 92%. He hadn’t thought that his high school teachers had ever graded him more leniently. He had always done well in the written portions of his standardized tests too. But this professor who he was dealing with, was unaccommodating, even when Jungkook went to every single office hour. He was just about to start pulling his hair out in frustration. The professor didn’t understand how determined Jungkook was to do well in this class; he also didn’t understand what would happen to Jungkook if he didn’t do well in this class.

Sighing, Jungkook folded up his Samsung Galaxy Book, lunch time was close to ending and then the dining halls would be closed for two hours to prepare for dinner. He wasn’t really in the mood to walk into town to grab something to eat either. He got up from his desk and stretched, their dorm had the worst natural lighting in all of the residential halls, with all of its windows facing another six story building that felt like it was only ten feet away.

He grabbed his key card because one time he had forgotten it, and instead of responding to his texts and letting him into the room, one of his roommates had taken advantage of the fact that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to get in, by having a girl over. Jungkook had ended up needing to ask the floor’s residential advisor to let him in with the master key. The fine he had to pay was nothing to Jungkook, who kept getting weekly deposits to his account from his parents. But the RA had opened the door and the first thing they both could smell was the musty scent of sex, and then as Jungkook walked into the shoebox room, he saw his roommate having sex with a girl on the bottom bunk. The girl had screamed and ran out, wrapping her body with his roommate’s sheets, past Jungkook and the RA who glowered at both offenders and said his roommate and the girl would be getting written up for having the opposite gender in the room and being in the room of the opposite gender with the door closed, just adding to the list of reasons that Jungkook’s roommates hated him.

At least the weather was nice today, he thought, as he walked up the hill to the Stern dining hall. Jungkook was getting really tired of American food; he would do anything for some of his mom’s kimchi and samgaetang right now. The last time he had been able to enjoy Korean food had been the farewell breakfast his mother had prepared for him before his plane ride to San Jose International Airport. He hadn’t ventured out to find the Bay Area’s Koreatown yet for two reasons: the first, he genuinely did not think he would get homesick so fast and the second, he was wary of interacting with NorCal’s Korean population because everyone knew everyone and he didn’t want any form of gossip or news about him getting back to his parents besides what he told them on his weekly phone calls home.

It was the same reason why a month into the fall quarter, Jungkook was still relatively friendless besides the one or two friends he had made for each lecture to study together. His classmates didn’t generally hang out with him outside of that, though he had been making attempts to get closer, and he thought that sometimes it was succeeding. He found out that Bambam liked to play Overwatch like he did and they had talked about playing together sometime, although they hadn’t yet. There was a ready-made group of friends for him in the form of other Korean international students that were in the same circles as him and his family but moving to California was a breath of fresh air and Jungkook didn’t want to restrain himself any more than he had to. But making friends with complete strangers, even when he so desperately wanted to, was much harder, especially when Jungkook was so shy and an introvert.

He grabbed a tray inside of Stern, putting a heavily stacked cheeseburger on it, grabbing a Caesar salad side dish, and some garlic parmesan shoestring fries, he was ready to sit down. Ah, another conundrum, the dining halls were always full of students, with more waiting to be let in, so you would always have to sit with strangers. No one really seemed to mind when Jungkook asked if he could join their tables, but Jungkook preferred empty tables or ones with just one other occupant, it made him feel less like an outsider that was encroaching on a friend group.

“Can I sit here?” Jungkook asked, standing in front of those tiny tables that sat two. The person sitting in the other chair was wearing a monochromatic set of sweats in mustard yellow. He had a half eaten burrito bowl in front of him and was deeply immersed in the book that he was reading. The cover was a soothing amalgamation of natural browns and green, a black bowler hat was levitating above a sepia toned landscape that had a building in the distance. Jungkook squinted trying to make out the title, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, huh.

The male looked up, using his index finger to save his place, “Sure go ahead.”

The two ate in relative silence although Jungkook’s neighbor was reading more so than eating, really. But at one point, he must’ve reached the point he was trying to read to, because he put down the book and returned to his burrito bowl with vigor, his eyes staring at Jungkook, burning holes through him until he decided to look up and acknowledge.

“Can I ask you something?” the man asked.

“Um sure,” stammered Jungkook nervously, he had a feeling that the male was not a freshman like he was, with how relaxed he looked in the dining hall, he looked like he belonged at Stanford unlike Jungkook.

“Do you like Korean food?” he asked, “The food here makes me want to gag, but I had to meet up with my group for a project, and couldn’t eat anything for hours. I felt like I was going to faint. There was no way I could make it anywhere further than here without refueling.”

“Um yes,” Jungkook replied, he had been eating around his burger, avoiding the heavily sauce drenched parts. He had no idea what ingredients made up the reddish white sauce but it was disgusting.

“Cool, you wanna go into Ktown for dinner?” he asked, “I know this great soup place that’s dirt cheap. We all gotta save money somehow.”

Jungkook stared at him, dirt cheap? He didn’t know Jungkook was Jeon Jungkook; he didn’t know Jungkook was rich. “How did you know I was Korean?” he asked instead.

“I didn’t,” he shrugged, “I try not to guess where someone is from. You just looked like someone who would enjoy eating more than just American food day after day. Also, you’ve barely touched your meal.”

The salad was worse than the burger and the fries had tasted old and stale, “Um okay, we can go to dinner,” Jungkook eagerly agreed, “Or we could even go now, unless you’re busy.”

“No I’m fine, let’s go,” he said standing up with his tray, ready to dispose of everything, “My name is Namjoon by the way. Kim Namjoon.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” Jungkook replied, also standing up, watching carefully to see if Namjoon’s face would change as he suddenly realized what family Jungkook was related to. Nothing changed however, maybe Namjoon was Korean American, thought Jungkook, hoping hard he wouldn’t have to lose his new friend.

Namjoon laughed sheepishly, “So here’s the thing about me, I don’t drive and I think the bus won’t be here for another hour or so, so how about we take some bikes?”

Jungkook held his tongue, should he offer up his car? But then sophisticated worldly Namjoon would know that Jungkook was rich and start forming certain impressions of him.

As Jungkook stood there contemplating, Namjoon interrupted his thoughts, “Yeah sorry, it’s not really hyung-like of me to not have a car but I’ll pay for your bike.”

“I guess then I’ll pay for our meals,” offered Jungkook.

“No, I invited you, it’s my treat.”

“But hyung﹣”

When you got off the plane, without even changing, your studio in the HYP.E building was the first place you went. There were a few eyebrows raised amongst the other employees as they saw you walking into the office at ten in the morning dressed to the nines in your fancy Alexander McQueen gown, but they said nothing and you were able to ignore them as you got into the elevator.

Your computer took longer to boot up than you would have liked, but when you were finally able to have the file open, listening over the song you were forced to admit to yourself that there was indeed something lacking about it. The beat was too generic, too safe so to speak. You had no idea how to fix it without looking at Namjoon’s notes.

Fortunately, the man had emailed you a list of things that everything Stray Together’s main team had taken issue with for the second single. You looked over the lyrics for “God’s Hour,” the songwriting seemed to be a little too harsh for the disco and dance beat that was underlying it. The upbeatness of the song was already there and the lyrics seemed to encourage an intense rise to action too, but maybe there needed to be more instruments, a drum beat thrown under the rapid fire pace of Felix’s rapping, more synthe when Taehyun used his honey vocals. Perhaps you needed to lean more into the R&B vibe, play a little more into the hip-hop that the lyrics seemed to beg for, make it less ethereal and disco. The energy would have to remain the same however, this song was nothing if not a pumped up dance track.

You were hunched over the desk for hours, working on the song until you noticed that it was almost two in the afternoon on the blinking neon numbers of your digital wall clock. It was a gift from Glitzy, the rookie girl group under HYP.E; you thought it came from their season’s greetings package this year but you weren’t too sure. You hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since you’d inhaled a small bag of cashews right before your plane had landed. Your stomach was growling and letting its presence known.

Where was your intern? Surely the shuffling of the high school and college age interns between departments and producers hadn’t happened yet. It was still the spring, the summer batch hadn’t come in yet. You didn’t want to move, you wish someone else was here to take care of the smaller menial tasks for you. You definitely needed a large to-go cup of scalding black coffee and perhaps you could order a delivery of your favorite vegan ramen from that Japanese place three blocks away.

Your finger was hovering over the submit order page of the delivery app when your door got unceremoniously flung open. Yoongi flopped over the small two seat sofa you had along the back wall for when artists need to come in your studio to work with you, or there are more than three people in the room.

“Can I help you?” you asked, staring at your cousin. He was a grown man, of thirty-one (you had just celebrated his birthday last month) and he was throwing a tantrum in your room like a child.

Yoongi allowed himself a few more moments of flinging his arms around and kicking his feet before he covered his face with one of the cushions and screamed loudly into it. The cushion, a cute one of a blue koala, courtesy of a partnership Namjoon had had with LINE, was still on his face when he grumbled against it, “upper management wants the idols to have more involvement with the album. Says it doesn’t feel raw enough because they’ve barely done anything on the creative side of things.”

You could have been a bitch and played the devil’s advocate, going against your cousin and saying mockingly, ‘Well isn’t that good? The artists should play a role on the producing side.” But you knew what Yoongi meant. Most of the songs were around 70-80% complete, they just needed a couple of finishing touches, letting the idols mess around with them now could make everything have to go back to the drawing board and start afresh if any of the songs got any worse after their participation.

“Bang Chan was heavily involved with the songwriting for God’s Hour,” you offered, “Why don’t you let them work on their songwriting. Or you could do what I do. I just have Soobin sit in the room with me while I work on their album. He offers suggestions and I try them out. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t but it’s enough to get him listed on the credits as a producer.”

Yoongi sneered, “Ah yes, why don’t I have a bunch of teenagers just consolidate in my tiny ass studio and have them give me suggestions. What could possibly go wrong when Beomgyu and Minho are in the same room.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t be so disagreeably obtuse. You know what I meant. Get Yeonjun or Jisung to do something.”

“Hmph,” sniffed Yoongi, “Why are you still wearing that? You should go change.”

You glared at him but he was right; it had been bothersome getting your feet pinched by your red bottom high heels and though the dress was made of a comfortable material, it’s shape didn’t allow you to have a wide range of motion. You went to the invisible cabinets that lined one of the walls of your windowless studio. You usually kept a change of clothes or two due to the amount of time you spent at the company. You even slept here when you were particularly in the zone.

“I’ll be back, but maybe you won’t be when I am,” you rudely suggested, urging him to silently leave.

“Or maybe I will,” Yoongi grunted, tossing the pillow over his head again. His long legs were hanging over the sofa’s arms so you took the chance to kick his shins as you passed.

You stopped outside the door, your phone in your hand. You couldn’t remember if you had actually submitted the order to the restaurant and were trying to check it when you overheard the conversation that was flowing towards your direction from the two people that were walking down the hall.

“Ah Ryujin, you really got the bottom of the barrel this time for concepts didn’t you?” tutted Yun Benzo, one third of CEOs of the company, and in your opinion the most irredeemable and misogynistic one.

“Ah, sajangnim, I don’t think that,” Ryujin commented politely, “The company always picks great concepts for every comeback, I’m very thankful.”

“Still,” murmured Benzo, “You look horrible, that hair is too short. You look like your boyfriend broke up with you after leading you on with the promise of marriage for years. It looks like a poorly executed revenge cut.”

“Ah, well I don’t know about that, I think I pull off short hair relatively well,” Ryujin effused, trying hard to balance her tone between humility and confidence, striving to sound charming enough to not be seen as conceited by this sexist prick.

They were passing you when you blurted, “Hello sajangnim, Ryujin. Is that your new look for the mini album? It really suits you.”

“Oh unni! You’re back!” cheered Ryujin, “Will you be watching our countdown stage?”

“Of course I will,” you assented, “I worked hard on that album.”

Benzo looked you up and down icily, “I don’t know if you should be taking beauty advice from her. Ryujin, ask your coordinators and stylists if you can get extensions for that big stage.”

The fake smile on your face froze and you hugged the bag with your change of clothes. “You know I think I actually forgot something in my studio. It was good seeing you both,” you inclined your head in a show of respect before turning back to the door.

Yoongi looked up at surprise, “That was fast, how did you﹣oh,” he abruptly trailed of his train of thought, noticing that you were still in the same clothes.

“I forgot something,” you insisted. And then you walked over to your table where you had ceramic containers holding copious amounts of stationery. Your fingers looped through the holes of the scissors you had left in your pencil holder and always had forgotten to take back home. Well, it would now become useful again.

Yoongi’s eyes squinted in confusion but he said nothing as you made your way to the door again.

In the ladies' room, you changed into your oversized baby blue sweater and comfy Off-White cream track pants, sliding your Louboutin heels off one by one so you could pull up white ankle socks on each foot before sliding them into a pair of indigo Nike Blazer ‘77s. The corkscrew design, accents of baby blue, and floral embroidery softened your look but your stance was threatening as you stood in front of the sink and stared at the mirror across from you. Raising the scissors in your right hand to the opposite side of your hair, you snipped off a thick section of the hair held in your left hand. For the second time in your life, you were attacking your hair with scissors because of a man. As the dark locks of hair collected in the sink, you couldn’t find an ounce of regret within you.

After a final bit of finagling, you found yourself appeased with the length of your hair, it was a little longer than chin length and was actually very symmetrical all the way around, even in the back. It made you feel like a weight had been lifted off your chest, getting rid of all that hair you had to grow out for the wedding and photos, the hair that you had to keep even after getting married just because it made you look softer and more feminine, because it was more wifely.

You carded your fingers through your hair, raking it back so that it wouldn’t fall into your face, once you were satisfied with the way it looked, you gathered up all the loose hair and threw them away in the trash bin under the paper towel dispenser, slightly surprised that no one had come and interrupted you in the midst of your impromptu decision when every ladies’ room in HYP.E saw a lot of heavy traffic. Folding your dress over your arm and holding your nude pumps by their backs in your other hand, you were finally ready to leave. You pushed your back against the door to have it open and ducked out, inhaling sharply when you saw the two gentlemen walking in your direction.

A scowl took over your whole face when you noticed the white plastic generic ‘Thank You’ bag, embossed with red letters in one of their hands. An uneasiness settled in your stomach as the thought that it was probably your food hit you. Sighing, you made your way to them, deciding to pick the battle field and have the fight be on your terms.

“Oh Y/N, there you are,” Namjoon grinned, his dimple poking into his cheek as a giant smile took over his entire face. “Jungkook and I were at Tokkijung for a meal, we noticed an order getting ready to be delivered to the office while we were paying and it turned out to be yours. What luck, right?”

“What luck indeed,” you groused sarcastically, tucking one of your short new locks of hair behind an ear.

Jungkook was damn near hugging the three styrofoam boxes in the bag to his chest when his eyes shot to meet yours at your words. He still couldn’t believe the change in you﹣it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he had last seen you and since then you had managed to chop more than two thirds of your hair off. But still, it looked good on you, almost surprising was the fact that it suited you so well. The blunt cut sharpened your features making you look like a coquettish elven creature. Jungkook’s eyes were raking over your face, taking in every feature before they flitted over the rest of you.

You looked so goddamn good he was almost losing his mind with how quickly his gut filled with lust, his collar suddenly feeling suffocating, and his blood rushing straight down. “I decided to add more food to your order,” Jungkook admitted, “I wasn’t sure if you had really gotten a chance to eat in between the party yesterday and now. I thought we could talk while you ate, and if it’s too much for you, I could help you finish it.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as you reached out for the bag, “It’s okay, I’m really busy today you don’t have to join me. It’s been a day from hell, the less said about it the better.”

Jungkook evaded your hand, stepping back and holding the food closer to his chest, “I don’t mind, I’ll be quiet as a mouse. You can do your thing; I won’t bother you. I’ve hung out at Namjoon’s studio plenty of times.”

“I’m surprised you came back so quickly,” you opined, “What about your niece’s actual birthday.”

“I don’t know that Jieun can tell time yet. I imagine that she thinks her life must either be one long endless day or that she’s trapped in some sort of a Groundhog Day situation with no way out. She won’t miss me. Her attention span is very short,” he snorted thinking of her fondly, “My sister and Jimin hyung were understanding. I don’t think I should be gone from the company so long in the future, so I have to thank you for playing a role in how early I returned.”

“And yet you’re here,” you mumbled under your breath. Namjoon didn’t hear you but Jungkook did, the smile on his face becoming more stilted, his eyes hardening with its bright sheen dulling.

“Hyung, I’ll see you soon,” Jungkook piped up, “I don’t want to waste so much of my darling wife’s time out in the hall when she could be in her studio. We’ll be going now.”

“Of course,” Namjoon looked between you both and seemed to have finally noticed your new ‘do, “Wow, Y/N that haircut looks amazing, American hairdressers are something else huh?”

“Hmm,” you hummed blasély, shrugging. Jungkook’s scowl deepened since he wasn’t in on the secret as well. As Namjoon waved farewell to the two of you, you took off, knowing that Jungkook would follow in your footsteps and not leave you be.

When you reached your room, you glared at the entrance, an acrylic neon sign saying “L.8 Universe” in cursive letters lit up by ice blue light the only decoration on it. Jungkook was an unignorable presence at your back, breathing down your neck ﹣figuratively, your soon-to-be ex-husband was too well-mannered to actually huff at your back. With a sigh, you opened the door just a hairbreadth to duck half your body in and check whether or not your cousin was still there. To your disappointment he was not, though he could have saved you from this pointless conversation about whether or not your marriage could be saved that Jungkook had aimed to corner you into.

You sighed heavily before reluctantly opening the door wider and walking in completely, Jungkook following so quickly in your footsteps that he was almost stepping on your heels.

Sitting down on your ergonomic Sidiz Spiderman office chair, you rotated it around so you faced Jungkook who was putting down your food on the glass coffee table. To your constant state of utter dismay, when it came to him, the male looked regrettably good in his distressed light blue jeans that were hugging the length of his legs in a very becoming manner, revealing the sun-kissed skin of his knees through the giant holes he had worn into them.

The yellow button down he had tucked into his jeans with the sleeves rolled up on made him appear casual yet put together and a black belt was wrapped around his waist, completing the ensemble. His right wrist shone with his two-toned gold and silver Rolex. He even had the audacity to still be wearing his wedding ring, although you had to admit you had forgotten to take off yours, yourself. The draining effects of a fourteen hour flight were nowhere to be seen on his face, in contrast, you were looking worse for wear with your pinched dehydrated skin and chapped lips.

“Jungkook why are you here?” you demanded tiredly, “Did you think that chasing me down would get me to change my mind? Jungkook I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care about what clauses of the prenup we’ll be breaking by divorcing so quickly. I just want to be free.”

“You are so selfish Y/N,” Jungkook blurted, suddenly. He had always tried his best to be civil with you although you had revealed your distaste for him quite early on into the marriage. “This doesn’t just affect you. I’ll be punished too. And I’ll be damned if I have to reap the consequences for something you sowed. I won’t make this easy for you Y/N. Hear me out before you go through this and make things worse for both of us because I will fight you every step of the way.”

“What do you want Jungkook? Compensation? Fine, it's yours, it’ll have to be a yearly installment because I don’t have that much in liquid, but I’ll get you your money. I don’t want to be married to you. Why is it so hard for you to understand?!”

“You don’t even know me, Y/N,” Jungkook retorted angrily.

“I don’t want to get to know you,” you rolled your eyes. You played around with your wedding band. It was so ugly, not like anything you would have ever picked out for yourself. But you had refused to participate in any of the planning for the wedding, so in the end your mother had been the one to pick out your ring and she had chosen the most gaudy, obnoxious, and chunky piece of bling you had ever seen.

“Don’t you think I deserve better than this?” Jungkook questioned, using his pinky to furiously brush back his bangs.

“Sure,” you agreed easily, “You deserve better than me. Let me divorce you so you can be on your way to a new wife. Perhaps, someone more congenial and straight out of Stepford who would delight in being the picture-perfect Mrs. Jeon.”

“I don’t want to deal with a new wife,” Jungkook grumbled. “Why can’t you just﹣”

“Why can’t I just what?” you parroted, trying your best to oppose Jungkook at every turn..

Jungkook exhaled loudly in frustration, “Stop being so contentious, Y/N, we’re both in the same boat.”

Your glare turned venomous as you thought to yourself, no we really aren’t.

“Y/N please,” Jungkook pleaded, “Just one year. One year more from this date and then we can go separately in our different paths. Just give us a chance. I’m not asking for love, Y/N, you can’t ruin my life over this.”

You narrowed your eyes at Jungkook, glaring at him beadily, “And if I want to ruin your life? I see no reason to continue to stand by you.”

“Don’t pretend ﹣don’t pretend you are a bad person,” Jungkook groaned in frustration, “Just come on, Y/N, what’s one year of your life to you?”

So much, you thought mutinously, especially when I have to give it up to you.

“You don’t know what I’m like when I’m wronged,” Jungkook blurted out, his voice shaky with how anxious he was that you were still going to refuse after it all, “You don’t know what I’ll do to ruin your life and make sure that you end up just as miserable as me.”

But you already were familiar with the ways that Jungkook could destroy you and everything you built. You scrunched your eyes shut as the telltale pinpricks of pain that hinted at a migraine began to flood your head. You were so tired of everything. But, what if you could bargain with him, you thought desperately.

“One year, Jeon?” you murmured, a lethal tone lining your voice.

“Just one,” Jungkook acceded frantically.

“And in return do you promise that when it’s over we will finally, completely be out of each other’s lives?” you asked, “Like we don’t exist for each other?”

Jungkook’s large doe eyes widened even more in his bewilderment, “If that’s what you want,” he agreed hesitantly.

“One year, Jeon,” you conceded, “I’ll be counting down the days.”

“Not more than I am,” Jungkook replied, lying straight through his gritted teeth.

⟶ tag list: @taestannie @kaithezaftig @apollukee @alpaca1612 @somewhereinthestarss @ggukkieland @ysltae @moonchild1 @doiemarkzen @etherealuv @diorkookie @squishyjk @rooo-tah @thisartemisnevermisses @vettigirl @awixxx @jimidol @ppeachyttae @fan-ati--c @kimmieloveswho @bambuzlee @jwlmnbt @immaculateloser @daggerbeneathmygown @afangirllikeme-blog @she-is-dreaming @ducktan-sonyeondan @ladyartemesia @igotnotype @lilyflowerguk

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taylorswiftstyle · 2 years

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TSS Predictions: 2022 Grammys

We're finally approaching the day of the rescheduled 2022 Grammy ceremony!

While Taylor’s attendance at the ceremony itself is sadly doubtful in my eyes (despite the AOTY nom for evermore), I wanted to honour the day with a predictions post if she indeed deigns to show up.

There are obviously many directions she could go, given the amount of content she released in 2020-2021.

An homage to the material nominated that night with a cottagecore, forested look for evermore?

A scarlet gown to honour the success of RED (TV)?

A fashionable Easter Egg to more clearly hint at which re-recorded album is indeed next?

A mix or none of the above because her fashion historically has not always correlated so obviously with the body of work she’s promoting at the time?

So many questions we probably won't get the answers to. But that’s part of what makes predictions and guesswork and imagining wildest dreams of things so fun.

Here we go!

Monique Lhuillier Fall 2022 - Consider this picking up where the 2021 Grammys left off. It has the soft, nature-infused whimsy of that folklore-ian lewk but elevates it slightly with a full-length hem and a bow at the neck. I can imagine an elaborate braided updo as a nod to the single plait on the cover of evermore but with dark stained berry lips and relatively bare eyes to add a slightly edgy feeling of romance to the look. I’d finish with satin burgundy pumps and more modern ear crawlers.

Christian Siriano Pre-Fall 2022 - Splitting the difference between RED and 1989 with this spicy red co-ord pant set. I don’t think this lewk needs more than some red lipstick and black diamond or hammered larger statement earring and ring stacks. For hair styling I can see two directions of either polished city slick or a more edgy/tousled laidback feel. Pin-straight glossy shiny hair or alternatively a texturized/mussed wave would accomplish either of these things.

Rodarte Spring 2020 - This feels like a nice nod to her very iconic 2014 Met Gala OdlR appearance but combining even more vintage sentiments that reference the original RED (2012) era. As Taylor has continued to cement herself as an unshakeable giant of the industry, this feels like a timeless way to solidify her icon status. Old Hollywood waves would be great here. [Note: Since this post was originally written in January 2022, Saniyya Sidney has worn this exact Rodarte pick to the Critics Choice Awards]

Zuhair Murad Pre-Fall 2022 - Having offered up a sweet spot between RED and 1989, here’s a middle ground between RED and evermore. The nature-focused embellishments and that belt, while totally optional, give me vague cottagecore vibes which would totally work for the latest iteration of her style. Even her current relatively unfussy pandemic waves feel appropriate here, just with a bit more shape. I’d also love to see a red lip stain, softly mottled - like she’s had a glass of wine. Diamond stud earrings and somewhat glossy brown shadow would be great to add dimension.

For even more Grammy predictions, head to the TSS Patreon where I included 8 additional prediction looks here.

#taylor swift #tss predictions

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pinkacademic · 2 years

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Other Colours in Pink Academia

Even if your favourite colour isn’t pink, we can still be friends- pink is a state of mind. I got an ask recently about PA but make it baby blue and I was inspired to give some character inspo for other colours than pink. Also, there is no visual more fabulous than a colour-coded squad looking like studious power rangers. I tried to list as many diffrent pieces of media as possible so so of these eg Heathers might apply to more than one colour, but I just wanted to give some variety.

Red: THEEEE look has to be Heather Chandler, whose most iconic look is totally the musical with a striking red blazer, a pleated, plaid red skirt, red argyle socks, and of course, the red scrunchie. Heathers invented the Pink Academia aesthetic. Another end of the red spectrum could be Clover from Totally Spies. My first thought for a Clover outfit is that bright red shirt/blouse and pink jeans combo which I think you could academia up with a more office-ready bottom- though I will not stop anyone from recreating the spy suit either. Orange: I'm not good at orange, I'm sorry! My first thought was Lisa in the As if its your Last music video, but that's just her hair. I think a cute, simple base with an orange hairband could get the vibe across. My favourite orange-coded characters have to be the mermaids from H2o- they were my childhood. Each girl has their own colour scheme, but the mermaid tails and weird scaly bra things were an orange-gold colour, so they count! I'd recreate this with a pencil skirt and a blouse with a tie detail like a pussycat bow maybe to evoke the same details- you could also try a bustier or corset belt. Yellow: I overlooked the Clueless matching sets in my analysis, BUT NOT TODAY! It is the ideal outfit to rference for yellow, and I'll DID YOU KNOW until the end of days that it was the inspiration for Ashley B in Recess. Alternatively, the iconic yellow ball gown Belle serves is the look to end all looks and I think you could do a cute academia-style Disneybound with an off-the shoulder peasant style top and poofy yellow skirt, and some pretty rose-themed accesories. Green: Not to be on-the-nose but Elphaba from Wicked can be emulated with a striking black blouse and skirt and simple black boots. You are obligates to wear green tights or socks with this one- and Zelena from Once Upon a Time has a Wicked (pun so very intended, please appreciate me) necklace that adds so much drama to a simple all-black outfit. If you love a good supervillain, Poison Ivy serves so much potential for a floral outfit with a green base. Her most famous look is a leotard, but you can add a little bit more of a classic academia sillhouette with a white blazer to evoke a doctor's lab coat. Blue: I've already done a whole inspo set on the Abbey Mount uniform from Wild Child which can be replicated with a grey blazer and a blue plaid skirt, but for other options, there's St Trinnians with an edgier version of a similar look, or the Worst Witch, if, like me, you're trying to reconcile your happy childhood memories of Harry Potter with... uh... current climes... The Worst Witch uniforms have the added fun of personalistiion with another colour to represent your house or year group. I'm still upset at the travesty that was Fate: a Winx Saga for doing my girls dirty. for a true blue Bloom inspired look, she has a cute pleated skirt in the earlier seasons. It looks to be denim, but you could go for a plaid or houndstooth to be more rigidly Academia about it, paired with yellow and some lovehearts for contrast and a girly twist, Bloom has a tonne of good looks in the later seasons too, I'm just not as well versed because I'm old! Purple: It has to be said, Twilight Sparkle serves a Pink Academia moment with a purple pleated skirt and lace-up boots. So-Called Sci-Twi rocks a sweater vest, and the Crystal Prep uniform consists of a berry-leaning purple plaid skirt, purple socks or tights, and beryy waistcoat or blazer with each character having their own spin on the uniform. If you were a Strawberry Shortcake kid like I was (only 2003 is valid because I'm old!) then all those girls served a look. My fave is Angel Cake, and to Academia-ify her outfit, I would use a purple stripy blouse, a deeper purple blazer or jumper as a nod to the 2007 version (the only other acceptable depiction!! jk... mostly) and some kind of bow detail to go woth her hair. Also, listen, we need to bring hats back into their full power again. Neutrals: Bro, Neutrals are the base for any good dark or light academia outfits, so all of your Austen girls, all of your Secret History or Kill your Darlings kind of looks belong here. But honestly, I think mostly of Twilightcore, and if I wanted to make Bella Swan a Pink Academia Girly, I'd go for a dark green cardigan, a brown plaid skirt, and a simple white t-shirt blouse. For Bella, it would have to be flat shoes because our klutzy girl could trip on air, we do not eed to elevate her. Something more modest such as toning the outfit down with thick brown tights or a skirt with a longer hem keeps a certain degree of her style, and I think over-sizing the cardigan so you can grab the ends gives the Bella vibe.

#Pink Academia #Pink Academia Fashion #Pink Academic #Pink #Academia #Movies #TV #Fashion Inspiration #Rainbow

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swxxtsxcchxrine · 2 years

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Teddy bear<3

+warnings; graphic mentions of murder.

+pairings; your fav x gn!reader

Clarity. That’s what he was to you. He was everything you wanted and needed to make it in life.

‘When you find true love it moves on… that’s why I stay here.’

He was always there when you needed him most. Always ready with open arms and a shoulder to cry on.

It all felt too real. Too ethereal. Like a dreamlike sense of reality. You felt so good, didn’t want it to end. You’d do anything to save this relationship you had worked so hard to keep it going.

But every time you felt you were getting close, getting somewhere, his heart seemed to harden even more, eventually pushing you away.

A perfect image of cherry’s and wine, rosemary and thyme turns to rotten peaches and sour berries and nothing but turmoil. Rose garden dreams were set on fire by fiend’s.

His voice was like a melody lost in the wind. His eyes were that of the stars and the moon that lit up the dark velvety skies at night. His lips were those of the softest rose petals and his physique was of the finest of Greek Gods. His face was like a harmony sung by the angels from above. His hair was woven from the finest silk used to make the kings and queens royal gowns. Everytime you close your eyes, it was like a dark paradise, for you knew that whenever he was around there was no need to fear what hid within the darkness.

The sudden sound of a skull popping then finally cracking brought you back to this harsh reality that you had tried so hard to revoke.

‘It was for the best. I swear…’

You say over and over, justifying a profanity that had just been committed.

The wine seeped slowly like a waterfall cascading onto the hard, cold wooden floor. A warm tear slid down his face even though his life was no more. His cheeks were blotted with a rose colour, as if he was blushing.

You smiled slowly, whispering sweet nothings about how much he meant for you and how much you loved him and how it was for the best.

Now your rosemary and thyme, cherry’s and wine picture perfect dream may have been ruined, but at least now you could sleep without the sounds of being threatened.

Maybe Melanie Martinez had a point.

-Teddy Bear<3

2022 © swxxtsxcchxrine— do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome <3

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scorpiobitch95 · 3 years

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Summary: When he spies her from across the court, Charles knows he has to have her. He can’t wait for her garnet lips to be his.

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Female OFC (no body type specifically described, not named.)

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, food play, sex (p in v), cursing, oral sex (f receiving, mentions of m receiving), bodily fluids, cursing.

Author’s Note: This work is for 18+ only, no minors tolerated. You consume content at your own risk.

This one… wow it got away from me, but it just kept flowing. Charles is 😍😍😍.

@cavillsthighs gave me the brilliant idea to continue this “Lipstick Kisses” theme for more of Henry Cavill’s characters… so I am doing just that! Shoutout to her for the support and for editing this for me! LOVE YOU, BESTIE.

Taglist: @justaboringadult @greensleeves888 @cavillsthighs @beck07990 @summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @starstruckkittyangel @marytudorbrandon

✨ If you wish to be added to my tag list, send me a DM or comment on this fic!✨

Lipstick Kisses Series | Master List

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or claiming any ideas or parts as your own.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

Garnet

The night their hands grazed one another during the King’s birthday celebration was the first time he succumbed to her magic. It was the first day of a week-long pomp and circumstance in honor of His Majesty, just the way the King preferred. The heavy smells of food and wine wafted throughout the room where the court was alive and thriving with guests engaging in lively conversations. In the middle of the hall, a dance was in full swing. That’s where Charles Brandon and his soon-to-be secret lover found themselves that evening: right in the midst of the excitement.

Her gown was ornate and shining golden in the soft torchlight; her lips were stained with the rich wine and berries she had indulged in earlier in the evening. The use of cosmetics was not a commonly accepted practice at court, so instead, for evenings like these, she tugged on her lips with her teeth and stained them with her wine to achieve her desired red-hue. Call it an alter-ego, call it her real personality, she couldn’t be sure, but she relished in the feeling of confidence that her garnet-toned lips inspired. One thing was certain — it made her stand out from the crowd.

Their hands met briefly, only for a moment, but the fleeting moment burned their skin white-hot as if they’d each mistakenly grasped a glowing ember. The heat surprised them both as their eyes met with exhilaration and curiosity, but before they could soak in one another’s appearance, the dance directed them to other partners. Charles couldn’t bear to look away from where she twirled, nor could she tear her eyes away from his dashing face. From the second their eyes locked, they knew they needed to devour the other.

After the dance transitioned to group chatter, Charles made his way across the hall to where she stood, but fate was not on their side this particular evening. He was quickly swept away to tend to an urgent matter with the King, as his presence was always immediately requested when something was amiss.

He glanced back at her as his presence was all but forced out of the room; like a moth to a flame, his eyes managed to find her in the chaos of his exit. Her devilishly red smile could have illuminated the entire castle.

He saw her again the following night. Charles was thankful, for the first time in his life, for the several layers of clothing that his outfit required. His erection strained against his pants, intense and throbbing as his breath quickened at what he witnessed: her succulent lips wrapping around the tender flesh of a small dark cherry, her teeth delicately piercing the skin. Blood surged to his groin as he watched her with lustful intrigue. The cherry juice stained her pillowy lips, tinting them a deep, rich red. He couldn’t take his eyes off her beautiful mouth.

The bustle of the party-goers was thunderous, but their energies drew together, creating a serene silence that only they were privy to experience. Her gaze locked onto him from across the room, her eyelashes fluttering slowly as she smirked at his noticing her stare. Once she had the handsome Duke’s attention, she rubbed the cherry across her lips, her dancing eyes never leaving his. A sly grin spread across her face as she wished to tease him further. Her tongue snaked out and traced where the juice had stained. His mouth hung open, dumbfounded, as she giggled quietly to herself.

Biting down on another cherry, her tongue caressed the curves of the fruit as her nimble fingers plucked away the stem.

He continued to watch her gently devour the fruit and take sensual sips of her wine while laughing with the ladies that surrounded her. Charles felt his arousal hardening further the longer he observed. Glancing in his direction every few moments, a warm flush colored her cheeks, but she didn’t let her gaze falter at his staring.

Her boldness made his heart race.

He needed to know that her kisses tasted as sweetly as he imagined.

He needed those garnet lips pleasing him, needed them covered in his essence.

The desire he held for her grew as he spied on her throughout the evening, and the more he observed her, the more he realized: this lady was not innocent. She was roping him in under her spell, and he didn’t even know her name.

Communicating without speaking, she quietly excused herself from the room as Charles did the same. They quietly snuck away to an abandoned hallway, far from the dinner festivities.

They found each other in the dimly lit space, their bodies were driven together fiercely as their lips met in a tango of their own. Hands roamed, moans escaped, and tongues collided as they conversed in the only way that made sense.

It was taboo for them to be alone together, though they found ways, regardless of societal rules. Strolls through the garden would soon find them hiding behind mazes of shrubbery, grasping and gripping each other hurriedly as their lips met in a pure frenzy of need.

Their cozy alcove at the edge of the forest also served them well; they used it for their secret picnics. These picnics were chocked full of the best wine, fruits, cheese, and bread they could find as they laughed and delighted in each other’s company. They were also full of stolen kisses and risque romps in the plush grass. Many times in this hiding spot, she had pleasured Charles to his release, loving the way his warm thick manhood felt between her swollen-from-kissing lips. She couldn’t get enough of teasing him with her tongue and savoring his taste with every gift of his salty nectar that he provided.

On an evening where the King was distracted by the most recent conquest in his revolving door of lovers, Charles was off duty from orchestrating the next chess moves for the English Army. This evening was similar to previous ones, he admired his secret lover from afar as she drank her wine and eyed him from across the room. Their affair had developed and had been happening for several weeks after that initial night. Once again, she held one single cherry and darkened her lip with it as the sweet flesh met hers.

Dancing ensued again, though this time she got to keep Charles as her partner. As they danced, her slender fingers entwined a parchment note between his thick ones. When the dance came to a close, they parted ways and she quietly slipped out of the boisterous room.

Finding a corner to fill his cup and read privately, he glanced at what she had written —

Your chambers, meet me there. Half past the hour.

Don’t be seen.

It was signed, not with her name, but with a garnet kiss print, plush and juicy red.

The thrill Charles felt in his chest as he snuck out of the party he knew was nothing compared to what the evening would ultimately entail. He was surprised at his restraint over these last days — he was not the patient type.

He’d never wanted anything so badly in his existence as the way he wanted her. Wanted to bury his head between her silken thighs. Wanted to hear her screaming out his name as her pleasure stole all of the energy out of her body. Wanted to nestle himself in her sweet pussy and feel her squeeze his cock the way she had squeezed his fingers when he was plunging into her only hours before.

Entering his bedchambers, numerous candles illuminated the room in a soft glow. The gold, black, and silver threads in the duvet and the tapestry shimmered brilliantly under the soft candlelight. She laid out on the mahogany four-poster bed and had propped herself up sensually on the lush pillows. Her body was bare, save for the wine-dyed corset pushing her opulent breasts together, creating delectable cleavage that had no choice but to spill over the top of her lingerie. She laid with her legs curled to one side, the side of her thigh modestly covering her naked lower half.

A relentless hunger engulfed his senses. Incense burned and filled his chambers with a transformative fragrance as Charles began to stalk his prey.

She watched him from the elevated bed, her eyes following his movements carefully. Warmth flooded her body as he drew nearer; she clamped her thighs tighter together to find friction to soothe the arousal growing within her.

As Charles made his way to the bed, he was once again mesmerized by her luscious lips and the color that was swiped across the delectable flesh. He was sure that she’d delighted in more cherries and wine before meeting, but as he crept closer, the pigment looked more intense than he’d previously seen. Charles smirked at the boldness of this beautiful woman. Quirking his head to the side, he questioned her silently but struggled to maintain composure as her bosom caught his attention.

God, how he wanted to slide his tongue and his cock in the valley of her succulent breasts.

Her teeth grazed her lower lip, suckling on it lightly as she looked up at him through her darkened lashes.

“I thought I could enhance our evening, my love. I think you’ll quite enjoy the look of my kisses against your skin.” She leaned forward to pick up his hand from where he stood at the edge of his bed, flipped it to view the underside of his wrist, and placed on it a gentle red kiss.

“Ahh, so you’ve indulged in a little more than simply fruit and wine, then,” the Duke chuckled.

“I will neither confirm, nor deny…” she giggled. “...Though it is made from cherry juice.” Her eyes darkened as she caressed his hand. “All the better to mark your skin with… do you find it to your liking, Your Grace?”

“Mmm…you’re lovely.” His thumb brushed against her bottom lip and she kissed him there, too, capturing his thumb with her mouth and gently licking his fingertip. Charles hummed as she placed a single hot kiss on his open palm, causing him to shudder beneath her warm touch. “I’m going to need to see these fuckable lips on every part of my body.”

Seeing the garnet kiss stain on his skin drove her wild, and any shyness she previously had left her body entirely. “I think I can oblige those wishes... Although, I wouldn’t want the court thinking I’ve bewitched you with a little lip varnish. You won’t turn me in for witchcraft, will you?”

Her hands roamed his clothed chest as she rose to her knees, starting to undress him. “You’re under my spell, but there isn’t any magic involved, sir.” She smiled cheekily as she removed the last of his ornate clothing.

His hand reached to brush the delicate skin of her cheek. His fingers were warm and soothing against her soft skin. She struggled to keep her composure; every touch he placed on her skin made her become more of him than herself. “We are keeping many secrets together, my sweet. What is one more? I could be the keeper of your secrets forever, you know.”

She giggled at his words but didn’t reply, not sure whether to take them seriously.

Never having seen the Duke in his full glory before, she marveled at his strong physique. Her fingers had a mind of their own as they glided across his skin, the dark curls on his chest entrancing her as she memorized his body.

His patience was impeccable; letting her do whatever she pleased. Charles’ paramour stood from the bed and circled his form, wishing to see every part of him.

“I need you to trust me, Your Grace, as I mark you here..” she placed a kiss on his shoulder blade, “and here..” in the middle of his back, traveling downward and tracing his taut muscles underneath her delicate fingerprints, she found herself face to face with the backs of his broad, muscular thighs. “I love knowing that in this room, you’re all mine...” her lips pressed to kiss his firm thighs and glutes, leaving cherry-hued prints in her wake.

“I’m all yours for as long as you wish to play, my dear.”

Her hands traveled up and down his flesh, teasing him as he reached to pour the decanter of red wine into their two chalices. Dark red lipstick kisses decorated Charles’ back as she explored and worshipped his sculpted form. She stood and wrapped her arms around his middle as she added more tender kisses to his back. Seeing her marks on him sent her arousal into overdrive. She brushed her sensitive breasts over the bulging muscles of his back, cherishing the feel of his hot skin on hers.

Grabbing her delicate hands, Charles invited her to sit at the oversized vanity that occupied a corner of the suite. A large mirror stared back at them as he handed the wine to her; she sipped sensually, watching his every move through the reflective pane.

“My Lady, if I may, I have something for you.” He opened a drawer in the large table, pulling out a long box tied with a red ribbon. Opening it to show her the contents, inside she saw a beautiful gold-plated necklace with a large jeweled brooch and many smaller adornments. The gilded gold surrounded striking red garnets and shimmering pearls.

A gasp left her lips at its elegance, and Charles’ mouth curled into a provocative grin at her response, as if he were a cat who’d caught a mouse. “I went to a jeweler the other day, and these rich garnets caught my attention. I couldn’t help but think of you. I had Sir Thomas craft this to accent your already exquisite beauty.”

“Your Grace... Charles… it’s beautiful... but why does it remind you of me?” Charles leaned down, clasping the necklace behind her neck. His fingers barely brushed her skin, erupting goosebumps on her body, and laid it upon her smooth décolletage.

Wickedness glinted on his sculpted face as he captured her neck with his rough kisses and breathed out, “The garnets reminded me of your plush, berry-soaked lips that I love to devour.” Her eyes caught his gaze in the mirror. Charles clasped his hands with hers, watching his Lady’s cheeks flush with warmth at his words.

She brought their combined hands to her lips, kissing the back of Charles’ hand, once again marking him with the lipstick autograph that matched her new gift. He was entranced by her beauty, watching her intently and soaking in this moment as she succumbed to her happiness. “Hmm… tell me more, sir.”

Kissing along his darling’s neck, he continued, “And the pearls.. may I just say that I was divinely inspired.” His chuckle pulsed around her; she could feel it all the way down to her core. Arousal dampened the skin between her legs with every sound emitting from his throat.

Her head cocked to the side and her eyebrows lifted in mischief, awaiting the continuance of his response. The Duke leaned close to her, kept eye contact in the mirror, and growled lowly in her ear, “The pearls were inspired by the way my cum dribbles from those deep red lips after I mark you as my own, my sweeting.” The breath that she didn’t know she was holding expelled from her mouth as she felt her need grow between her thighs.

Charles laughed darkly as she took a large gulp of wine to increase her bravery, asking him, “How could you possibly know that garnets are my favorite? How do I look, Your Grace?”

“Hmm… positively corrupt.” The Duke grinned and his fangs caught the light, making her blush profusely. The necklace fell just above her breasts, accentuating their curves and making his mouth water. Greed took hold of him as he stared at her; it was as if he hadn’t eaten in days and she was to become his last meal.

He led her back to the bed, guiding her to sit at the edge on her knees, facing away from him. Charles unlaced the ribbons of her sinful corset, releasing the remainder of her velvety flesh. He couldn’t help that his hands instinctively went to the curve of her lower back, running his fingers over her hips and tracing up her spine. Her skin felt like pure silk underneath his rough fingers. Grabbing the bowl of fresh cherries from the bed tray, he urged her, “Go and lie on the pillows, my love.”

He watched her supple buttocks sway as she climbed to the middle of the bed, lying on her back propped up as she had been earlier. Charles settled himself between her knees. Taking his turn to pierce a cherry with his teeth, he bit into a small fruit, tossed the pit aside, and immediately went to work, tracing the juicy berry down her collarbone and over her erect nipples, licking the juice he left behind.

The cherry was the light unto his path, down her breasts to her navel and then her thighs and heated center, using his tongue and lips the entire way. He found himself face to face with her delectable slit.

He’d been waiting to taste her all day.

Opening her thighs wide, he leaned in to suckle her glistening folds, teasing her lightly with the tip of his tongue.

Meanwhile, a violent thunderstorm raged outside. The thundering booms and splatters of rain on the window panes created a perfect blank canvas for the moans coming from his suite. Her body writhed on the satin beneath her as he toyed with her sensitive flesh.

“Tell me how incredible I make you feel, sweeting... Scream for me. Succumb to me. Tell me how glorious my tongue feels on your clit.”

Charles squeezed more cherry juice on her pussy, lapping it up greedily like a starved man. One of his many talents was knowing exactly how to make a woman squirm beneath his touch. Her moans reverberated off of the walls of his chambers. All five of his senses were drunk on her.

As his tongue stroked sensual circles around her clit, Charles pressed two fingers into her wetness, plunging and curling them with vigor. He hummed, his low gravelly timbre vibrating her nub. Her legs quivered and shook and she tried to back away as the stimulation built in her core, but he reached a free hand wrap around her hips, pulling her closer to him. Squeezing her ass, he pleasured her intently, giving his all to hear her moan and gasp. Charles refused to part with her sweet juices, having found the fountain of life between her thighs.

Watching her naked body come undone and listening to her moans, the Duke himself began to pant, gaining intense pleasure from pleasing his woman.

“You’re mine, you hear me? Only mine. Yes, that’s it, darling. Let go, let go.” Charles’ fucked her harder with his fingers, curling them to hit that little spot he knew would drive her over.

She bucked her hips as she came with force and moaned out his name reflexively. Her fingers entangled in Charles’ hair, pushing his head even closer to her center. He refused to stop, continuing to lightly flick her clit, sending aftershocks throughout her lower body. His hand and tongue teased and caressed her until she began to relax, coming down from her high.

He felt his lover draw sweet circles on his head with her fingers, petting him appreciatively as he placed tender smooches to her swollen mound, each one making her shudder in her orgasmic glow. She loved the way he made her come.

As Charles crawled up her body, she pulled his face to hers and pressed her garnet lips to his, sharing in the taste of herself on his mouth. She placed kisses on his stubbled neck, licking around his Adam's apple. The Duke moaned in her ear and she flooded with arousal once again. His weight was deliciously heavy on top of her, pressing her into the plush bed as he worshipped her skin.

“I’m in love with you,” Charles rasped hotly against her neck. He kissed her all over, but she was distracted by the bells that began tolling loudly in her head, bringing her thoughts elsewhere…

She didn’t want to admit that she had indeed fallen for the Duke. She didn’t want to admit that she felt anything other than lust. Love hardly amounted to a lifetime of happiness. She knew that if she admitted that she indeed loved him too, there was no guarantee she would get to keep him for herself.

Charles’ lips nipping at her skin brought her back from her wandering thoughts and she finally murmured, “I think you’re only in love with the way I feel around you, Charles. You’re drunk not only on wine but on the juices that you drink from the apex of my thighs.”

His toned arms held his strong body above her as his head lifted, pausing his ministrations. Concern flitted across his brows and he asked, “Are you telling me that no feelings have found you? None of adoration, only of fleshly desire? Because I have found myself zealously in love with you.”

Pangs of longing struck her soul, but she forcefully pushed those aside and chose to question him instead with rational thoughts, her eyes not able to meet his intense stare. “How can you possibly know that? Carnal pleasures don’t necessarily equate to love, Your Grace.”

Her hands traced his virile chest, gently petting the hair that covered his toned muscles there. She needed to know if he was truthful with his words. “Are we not simply partaking in our fleshly desires?”She asked him, struggling to maintain her confidence. “For all I know, tomorrow the King will ask you to betroth a woman… and what are you to say? ‘I cannot, I love another?’ This court doesn’t care a thing about love.”

“That,” He kissed her passionately, “does not answer my question.” His hard cock pressed against her abdomen, hot and heavy. “I want you. Why won’t you believe me?” He asked this as he slid the head of his flesh between her velvet walls, extracting a moan from her delicate throat.

Trying her best to stay focused on the topic at hand, she managed to breathe out, “Because I’ve seen you charm many other ladies to your bed before, where, for all I know, you could have ‘found yourself in love’ with them, too. I am not a fool, my dear.”

“No, you aren’t. But I have been. Can you accept that?”

She made herself meet his gaze as he hovered above her, her face becoming serious as she searched for a trace of lies in his expression.

She couldn’t find any.

Without answering, one of her hands reached behind to grab his head, bringing his lips to meet her messy red ones as her other hand reached between them to massage his heavy manhood. She rubbed the tip along her opening, prolonging her teasing. Lining him up with her center, she pushed him inside of her. His cock stretched her walls ever so deliciously, an intense rush of pleasure surging throughout her body despite the small pain that his size induced.

Charles thrust into her slow and steady while she adjusted to his size. His mouth claimed her lips once more, sucking and biting them as her hands roamed his back, lightly scratching at his skin. She squeezed her muscles around him, causing Charles to let out a feral growl.

“Sinful, you are, my dear Lady. I must have died and gone to heaven. Your sweet cunt makes me feel like I’ve arrived home,” he gasped, his breaths heavy and labored.

Charles was in awe at his lover’s beauty, how unleashed she was underneath him. Her hands found Charles’ ass and she kneaded the meaty flesh beneath her fingers as he squeezed her inner thighs, pressing her legs open wider.

He ground his hips into hers as he sank further into her, his cock bottoming out, his hip bone pressing deliciously into her nub. Shockwaves ran through her clit, her back instinctively arching up to let her meet his searching lips. He took her nipples into his mouth, lightly pinching them with his teeth as she moaned loudly in his ear.

He fucked into her with a steady pace one moment, then a tortuously slow pace the next. She felt every inch of him caressing her walls, the thick ridges of his head teasing her entrance every time he slowly withdrew from her. “That’s my girl… completely taken over by the feeling of my hard cock fucking her… shall I go faster?”

“Yes! Your Grace... please.” Her moans were lusty and unleashed, a true match to Charles’ vigor.

His grin was pure evil as he slipped out of her, despite her mewling objections. Flipping her over, he pulled her to all fours as he guided his cock back to her dripping slit. Teasing her, he rubbed the head of his cock over her sensitive clit. Her knees began to buckle, but before she collapsed, Charles grabbed around her middle and pulled her back into his chest.

He entered her again, hitting her front wall which made her shudder within his grasp. Charles marveled at how perfectly the shape of her ass fit to the bend of his hips, like they were the last two puzzle pieces completing the entire work.

She chanted her pleasure, over and over again, lost in the sensation of him. He was lost in the sensation of her. With her back pressed to his sweaty front, Charles wrapped one hand around the front of her waist as the other played with her flushed breasts, pinching and tweaking her peaks.

The Duke fucked her without abandon, flesh slapping flesh aggressively as they groaned loudly, relishing in their pleasure. He once again thanked the skies for the background noise to drown them out from prying ears, though he did not care. It was as if they had made love to one another over and over for many years — almost like they had found each other again and again in multiple lifetimes.

“Wow… you feel so good… Oh yes! Charles, I… Oh, fuck…” She came with an eruption that would put Mt. Vesuvius to shame, soaking his cock and thighs with her cum.

“You’re so pretty when you let go, sweeting. God, look at you..” Feeling her body convulse underneath his touch, Charles pumped his release into her. He buried his cock deep within her slick, holding her firmly to his hips while his hand reached around her throat, pulling her head back to his shoulder. His cum spurted into her, coating her insides, giving her a warm sense of success while Charles continued to nibble on her neck.

They looked across to the mirror, admiring the lover’s embrace looking back at them. They were both completely sated but were still aroused by the image of their bodies entwined together.

Hands roamed across skin, arms embraced the other as they watched their forms. Charles’ hand was suddenly on her clit, gently twirling his fingertips around it, overstimulating her by flicking it ever so gently until her whimpers convinced him to stop. Charles pulled himself from her warmth and his fingers slid into her folds, swiping up some of their union as he brought his hand to her mouth.

“For you,” he growled. She licked the warm cum off of his fingers, letting some of it dribble down her succulent cherry-stained lips. “Fuck,” the Duke exhaled heavily. “God, woman, the things you do to me… you are simply incredible.”

A smile spread across her garnet lips, her necklace glinting and gleaming in the glow of the candlelight. “Hmm... It is my absolute honor to please you, Your Grace.”

They laid down on the plush feathered bed in the afterglow of their carnal glory, the sweat starting to cool on their skin. She wrapped her legs around his and drew lazy circles across the planes of his body with her fingertips. Soft kisses were shared and placed everywhere they both could reach.

“Have my red-stained lips bewitched you enough to make you want to ask for my hand, Your Grace? You have already proclaimed your love, and you have already taken my virtue.” Her witty banter was not lost on the Duke; he, too, could play her game.

“Your virtue was long gone before I came along, my dear. No one’s mouth waters that much when seeing a cock for the first time.” Charles smirked at her. She rolled her eyes dramatically but laughed at him anyways. “And besides, I would be marrying you for far more reasons than just your lipstick, my sweeting. I am under your spell, but it is completely organic.”

“Why go and ruin a good thing? Do you not enjoy sneaking around with me, My Lord? Are you really willing to let go of the thrill of our secret?” She prodded him, needing to know that he meant what he’d proclaimed.

“Ruin?” Charles asked incredulously, “Getting to spend every day beside you with no limitations? Showing the world that you chose me? Spending my life with you would be the furthest thing from ruin, My Lady.”

She heard his words, but her doubtful thoughts had snakes their way back in to her head. She fell silent in his arms once more. They laid like that for a while, listening to the heavy raindrops patter randomly against the windows.

“You have yet to answer my question,” Charles finally reminded her in a low tone, savoring the softness of her body against him as his rugged hands explored her skin.

She shimmied closer into him, hiding her face as she whispered, “Don’t. Don’t make me. Please don’t make me tell you that I love you, too. As soon as I admit my love for you… I won’t be able to ignore it.”

“Look at me, my sweet.” Begrudgingly, she raised her head to meet his gaze. Charles caressed her chin, rubbing his thumb gently across it as his other hand brushed the loose tendrils of hair from her glistening face. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Your Grace, we don’t know that the King will give us his blessing...” Charles cut her off, catching her lips once more with his, sending all of his emotions into the kiss, desperate to help her understand just how ardently he wanted her. He wrapped his arms around her back, holding her close, their foreheads pressed against one another.

Again he persisted, “I will deal with the King. Will you do me the honor of letting me become your husband?” He searched her eyes for a crack in her walls, begging the universe for her to let him in. “Come on,” he joked, “don’t you want me to make you scream with pleasure for the rest of our lives?”

She barely managed to bite back a smile, massaging her bottom lip with her teeth, debating on how to answer.

“Will it help if I show you something?” he asked.

Her head cocked in curiosity; she nodded, watching his muscles ripple under his skin as he turned to the table by the bed, grabbing another wrapped parcel, this time much smaller. Charles turned back and opened it for her, explaining as he went.

“I had this made with your necklace… I hoped then, and still do, that you’ll say yes to me.” Inside the parcel lay a beautiful golden gimmel ring. The two interlocking rings shone brightly, one golden band set ornately around a large red garnet, surrounded by pearls, and the other decorated with smaller garnets; a perfect match.

Upon seeing the rings, the thoughts swirling in her mind slowed and were replaced by a sense of calm. Her heart pounded, but inside, she knew— she felt in her soul that they could face anything that came before them in this life. He truly wanted her, just as she wanted him.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” She asked him, shaking her head but accepting the larger of the two rings as Charles tenderly placed it on her finger, following by placing the other on his own. He stared her down, impatiently waiting for her answer. “Yes!” she laughed nervously.

“At last!” Charles exclaimed, his beaming smile lighting up the room. He pushed her back on the bed, attacking her lips and body with hurried kisses, unable to contain his excitement. “I hope you’ve stocked up on wine and cherries to make more of that lip varnish, my dear. There are many other places I want to see your red kisses, starting with my cock.”

* I do not own Charles Brandon, The Tudors, or anything related to it.

#henry cavill #jill writes #henry cavill fanfic #lipstick kisses #charles brandon #the tudors #duke of suffolk #garnet #scorpiobitch95 #charles brandon x reader

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twistedcharismaaa · 3 years

Text

If Walls Could Talk...

Summary: Yahya wonders if walls could talk .. what would they say?

Author's Note: Hi guyssss! I'm here with something new! I hope you all enjoy it! I'm a little nervous about it so pleaseeee let me know what you think! You know I live for the commentary! I love you guys so much!!!!!

Red wine and even redder roses waited for her through the threshold. As she walked in, she was accompanied by scented candles and was presented with cuisine of the highest standards. Poised, she sat on her throne with her left leg resting on top of the right. Daintily, she unfolded her napkin and spread it across her thighs. Her lover quietly entered the room from behind. A smile rested on his parted lips as he cocked his head to the side admiring his temptresses. His fingers traveled the seam of his suit jacket as he approached her with finesse.

Cheek to cheek with her now, he whispered his affections along her ear as his hands ventured down her spine. Much to his liking, she melted under his touch. His eyes fixated on the curve of her spine and his mind wandered instantly. He thought of the many ways he could amplify that arch. But forever the gentlemen, he refrained from his carnal thoughts for a moment. Gently, he pushed her chair under the table and placed a kiss upon her cheek.

Conversations were had. Dinner was devoured. But yet they were still insatiable. The room seemed hotter, smaller, and more intimate. She stood to her feet and gracefully smoothed out her dress as she approached him. Desire resided on her lips and fervor rested in her orbs. And him being her parallel, he stood to his feet towering over her. He ran his fingertips over her hand, gradually up her arm, and finally under her chin.

For a second, there was a flash of innocence between them both as a childlike smile appeared on their lips. He kissed her sweetly basking in the feeling of her lips on his. She clung to his jacket pulling him in more. Instinctively, he wrapped his hands around her waist. His curious hands roamed her body as the kiss intensified and electrified them both. And like a flip of a switch, her hands were planted on the mahogany table in front of her. Like a petal of a rose, he peeled her gown off her. Feeling uninhibited, he kissed sloppily down her back until he met her center.

If only walls could talk he thought to himself. They would speak of their shadows, their moans, her pleas, and his demands.

“Faster,” she cried.

“Harder,” she begged.

If walls could talk, they would speak of his artistry. How he effortlessly painted her like a canvas.

“Take all of me,” he commanded.

Or how he took her to the moon and back.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed.

Or how he made her feel the purest form of love.

“Wider, yeah just like that,” he answered, pleased.

He loved her blind. His love felt like the heavy pouring of rain or like thundering clouds over roaring seas. Passionate, godlike, and everything in between.

If only walls could talk….

------

@ghostfacekill-monger @blackburnbook @squigglyemotions @soulfuljas @mooon-berry @isisafrofairy @just-peachee @19jammmy @maisnacacia @savagescorpion @throughambercoloredlenses @earl-aive @majesticbrownjawn @admirehermind @crazynxgga @alertyoulikeitsamber @brwn-recluse

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya x reader #yahya abdul-mateen ii #yahya x black reader #yahya x black!reader #black fanfiction #yahya abdul mateen ii imagine #yahya imagine

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

Note

Could I have 13 and 70 from the smut list with King Arthur?

A/N: Yes, yes, you can. :D Also took some inspiration from the live-action Cinderella movie. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking.

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + only for smut, p in v

Masterlist

Prompts: “Your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more disappointed at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”& “I know all of your weaknesses.”

You fidgeted in your pretty gown for the eighth time in the last ten minutes, and your mother was less than pleased. “Stop moving, ungrateful child, this is your chance to impress the King! A chance for us to rise among the nobles!” she hisses at you, pulling your shoulders back. A ball in King Arthur’s court, wearing a corset that did little to help in the way of breathing, and your overbearing mother is breathing down your neck. Your sister beside you covered her giggles with a cough as you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, Lady Charlotte!” Mother smiles and thankfully leaves you for a moment alone. You take a deep breath and lower your shoulders, eyes scanning the room for exits.

“She will catch you, you know,” your sister giggles again, “and drag you right back.”

“I feel more like a prized bird on display than a woman,” you scoff, “does she honestly believe that the King is going to look at me in this ridiculous get-up and fall madly in love? We are peasants; how did we even get invited to this? Besides, I haven’t even seen this King before; what if he’s some hideous brute? Maybe that’s why they haven’t commissioned any portraits of him.”

“I’ve heard he’s quite handsome and young.”

“The average life span of a person is only fifty or so years, so how young can he be, twelve?” you groan at seeing the large plume of your mother’s hat coming back your way. “I need to get out of here before mother sells me to the highest coin.”

“Quickly then,” she shoos, “I know why you don’t want to meet the King; he’ll never compare with your handsome stranger.” She grins mischievously at you, and you hold your breath waiting for the fallout.

“How did you know about that?”

“Sister, darling, you are not very good at hiding your feelings.” You glare at her, and she giggles, “I also saw the two of you by the creek when I was out fetching berries last week. He’s quite handsome.”

“There you are!” Mother returns and puts her hands on your shoulders, pretending to show affection. “The King is coming,” she whispers with a grin and moves to stand between the two of you. You look over at your sister and give her your best pleading face, mouthing the words, ‘please don’t tell’ she smiles and nods with a wordless ‘promise.’

The trumpets sound loud, and a man stands forward to announce the King. People sitting rise to their feet, girls around you giggle like children, several pushing up their chests, biting their lips, or pinching their cheeks for some extra color. You stand there with a lump in your throat, trying to swallow around it.

When the King makes his entrance, the crown glistening off the top of his head, your mouth slowly falls open on a gasp. “Art?” you whisper, your mother shushing you; you can feel your sister’s eyes burn into the side of your face. Everyone around you bows and curtsies low in honor, but your body has frozen, your limbs no longer working.

“Curtsy,” your mother grabs your hand and pulls you down with a hiss, and you gasp, nearly falling to the floor with force. The noise draws his attention, and when the crowd rises, his eyes are staring intensely into yours. Those eyes you love, Art the apprentice, is the King of England. “He’s staring at you,” you can hear the glee in your mother’s voice, but all you feel is dread.

The music begins to play, and several Lord’s come up to him showing their offspring off like a cow at the market. And for a moment, his eyes leave yours, and you bolt. “Where are you going?” your mother moves to grab you, but your sister intervenes; God bless her. You walk as quickly as your skirts will allow towards the door to the gardens, and when you are on the threshold, an arm comes out to stop you.

“Wait, milady,” you freeze, half wanting to rip your arm from his grasp and slap him across the face for his misdirection, the other half wanting to turn and get lost in the deep blue of his eyes. “My love,” he whispers only for you to hear, “let me explain.” The second half wins, and you turn slowly, noticing the entire ballroom is watching the scene with rapt interest. His eyes, as blue as the sky reflecting off the sea, have you unraveling before him. “Dance with me?” he straightens to his full height, letting go of your arm and holding out a hand, “please.”

Your hand trembles as you bring it up and place it in his. The warmth that is usually so comforting seems to set your skin ablaze as you follow him to the middle of the ballroom. The music is slow, and you follow the steps with him in a carefully orchestrated dance. “Talk,” you whisper, “why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie,” he grins, “not exactly; I am still learning my trade, just like an apprentice.”

You know all the eyes are on you, and you smile when he gives you a turn, stepping hard on his foot when you come around. He grunts but doesn’t stop the dance, continuing each step. “That wasn’t very nice,” he smiles and says under his breath. “Did you forget love? I know all your weaknesses.” His words light the fire in your belly, and you see the mischief in his eyes as the dance comes to a close.

“Would you join me for a stroll in the gardens, Milady?” he asks loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Your Majesty?” Sir Bedivere strides over quickly, “there are many ladies who wish to dance with you, my King; you wouldn’t want to insult them.”

“I need to make sure to give each of the ladies my adequate attention. Isn’t that what you told me, Sir Bedivere?” he grins as the other man nods with a thin line of his lips. “I won’t be alone, don’t worry, Sir Tristan will be my guard.” He looks over at the Knight, who has several ladies of his own to tend to, who nods with great reluctance. “See?” he claps the older man on the shoulder and offers you his elbow. “Milady?”

You don’t have much choice, taking his elbow and following him over the threshold and into the gardens. Sir Tristan follows several steps behind, and you walk into the sprawling greenery. When you are about halfway in, he turns with a whistle, “Oi, Wet Stick, bugger off for a bit; we need to have a chat.”

“You know this bird, boss?” he asks with a raise of his brow.

“Yeah, she’s the one I asked you to bring the invitation to,” you look up at him, alarmed.

“You invited us? Well, aren’t you just full of surprises,” you huff and walk further into the orchard part of the gardens, far from the prying eyes of the partygoers.

“Shit,” he follows quickly behind, and you hear Wet Stick snigger and walk off in the other direction. “Wait, darling, please.”

You whirl around with a finger pushing into his chest, “What game are you trying to play? Find some pretty peasant girl, make her fall in love with you, and then embarrass her in front of all the Nobility in England. Was that your game?” You walk away from him and pace back and forth, “I can’t believe I was so naive to think you cared.”

“I do!” he reaches for you and holds you by the shoulders to face him, “I do care, love. I didn’t want you to love me because I was a King, I wanted you to love me! Arthur, the man, not the crown. I never lied to you,” you glare at him with a hand gesturing to the crown on top of his head, “okay I neglected one small detail.”

“One,” you huff out a laugh pushing away his hands, “one small detail?! Arthur, you’re the fucking King of England! I’m only a poor seamstress, with an insufferable widowed mother, who only dreams of becoming a part of the upper class!” You feel the tears swell in your eyes as the truth all comes crashing down on your shoulders; the man you’ve been in love with for months is unreachable; theres’ no way he can marry you.

“Listen to me,” he reaches for you again and takes three enormous strides pushing your back up against one of the apple trees. “Look at me.”

Your mind won’t slow down, “what was your goal with having us come tonight? So you could shame me? Show off to the nobility that you are one with the people? Do you fuck every peasant girl you meet?”

“Listen to me!” he shakes your shoulders, and your eyes widen, looking up to see him. “Listen to me,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to your own, “there was no game. I saw you in the market ten months ago when I was in the city.”

“Ten months ago? I’ve only known you for six….”

“I didn’t know how to approach you; I couldn’t just go up to you and say hello I’m the King of bloody England, fancy a pint?” You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips, his curving up at the edges. “So I dressed in my old clothes, snuck out of the palace, and started slowly talking to you. Then we went for a walk, and I couldn’t stay away. You’ve bewitched me, love. My love for you is more powerful than the magic of the Mage.”

“Honest?” you ask quietly with trepidation, “do you mean that Art?” He smiles at the nickname he gave you, leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

“Promise, love. It’s only ever and will only ever be you.” He runs his hand against your cheek, and you lean into his touch, letting yourself breathe for the first time all evening.

“I love you too, Arthur; I’m in love with you.” His eyes soften as he gazes down at you.

“We have to go back soon,” he whispers, kissing you softly, “but do you think we got time for?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you smack his arm with a laugh.

“Is that all you think about?”

He grins and takes a step back, “turn around,” he whispers with a wink. You turn around slowly, gasping when your hands are pressed further into the tree trunk. “Quiet love, don’t want anyone to hear us do we?”

He moves quickly, unlacing the top of your corset and peeling the back open, letting it fall to the ground, your breasts sagging with the relief of being free. He palms your breasts, placing rough, scratchy kisses over your exposed shoulders. His hands come around to his waist, and he pushes up several layers of your skirts, reaching for your pulsing heat. He turns you around, and you reach your hands quickly down to palm him through his leather breeches.

Your hands falter on the fabric, and you look down with wide eyes, “I-I made these,” your voice shakes, “they were commissioned a few weeks ago.” You look up to meet his warm eyes as he nods.

“I wanted to support you, and you are the best seamstress in the city. Only the best for the King,” he murmurs, almost shy.

“Well then, my King,” his eyes darken, “I will need to show my appreciation.” You tug open the breeches, and he slips them down his thighs, lifting your skirts the rest of the way.

He fumbles with the layers, and you giggle at the annoyed look on his face. “I swear, when we marry, I demand you just walk around naked at all times. These skirts are ridiculous.”

You don’t have time to respond, the words caught in your throat, as he lifts you and slides inside with ease. “Fuck, always so wet for me, love,” his hips snap inside you, and his mouth tangles with yours, swallowing your moans.

“Arthur,” you moan, feeling him stretch you on his majestic royal cock. This is not the first time you’ve fucked, having given Art the apprentice your virginity in the woods several months ago, but this was the first time you’ve fucked Arthur, the king, and he didn’t disappoint.

“That’s it, love, let me hear you, but only me, don’t want any of them damn nobles to know I already made my choice. That I already fell in love months ago with a beautiful seamstress in the market.” He grunts, and your cunt flutters around his cock with every word. The love between you flowing over with each thrust of his hips.

“I- ah, I love you, Arthur,” you whimper against his neck, slick with sweat. The air is thick tonight, the incoming storm leaving the air thick and dripping.

He pulls back to look at you, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips, “I love you, you’re my Queen, always have been.”

You buck your hips against him, cumming with a silent cry, head thrown back in ecstasy. He thrusts three more times, and then you feel him cumming deep inside you, thick and warm it dribbles down the inside of your thighs. He’d never done that before, always pulling out at the last moment. You open your eyes and look at him; his pupils are wide, almost black as he stares at you.

“Now they can’t say anything,” he mumbles, and you furrow your brow. “You may be carrying a little Prince or Princess now; I have to marry you.”

You grin at what he’s done, his cock still buried inside you. “You’re naughty,” you giggle.

“I’m naughty?” He asks with a smirk, “your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more so at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”

“And what’s that?” You shift your hips, and his eyes widen as you tighten around his cock.

His eyes soften, and he cups your cheek gently, bringing your lips softly to his own. The rub of his beard is rough on your cheek as he moves to your ear, “I’m going to end this party early and show you. I already made my choice a long time ago. But, are you ready?” He pulls back, looking deep into your eyes, “Can you stand by my side and love Arthur the King, as much as you love Art, the apprentice?”

Your heart catches in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at his words; you lean into his hand warmly and on your cheek and close your eyes. Opening them slowly and looking into the sea of blue, “I love you, all sides of you, that doesn’t change because of a shiny crown and a title.”

He slowly pulls out, and you whimper as he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your skirts and fixing your corset. You both work in silence to be presentable again, his eyes bright as he smiles at you, “Then, let’s go,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand, “I think it’s time to announce our engagement.” He snickers as you walk along beside him back towards the party.

“What are you laughing at?” you chuckle, watching his eyes filled with mirth.

“Your mother is going to faint,” he laughs beside you.

You groan and roll your eyes with a laugh, “Good, maybe she will be quiet for a few moments.”

He booms out a laugh and pulls you close, kissing the top of your head, “oh my love, our life will never be boring.”

Taglist: @lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031 @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit @mimimi-stuff @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501 @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066 @the-dendrophile-bookworm @amneris21 @deliciouslydisturbed365 @princessxkenobi @Kirstg42 @flaireandsynch @rayslittlekitten

#King Arthur x Reader #Female Reader #King Arthur Legend of the Sword #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam #Autumn Writes

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years

Text

Stronger Together

"Dreamer!"

Lena's alarm sears across Nia's senses. She registers the danger at the corner of her eye-- a Brevakk ripping off his sleeves to expose the keratinized spurs protruding from his arms. One sweep of his arm and she'll be dead, skewered in a spray of thick quills sharp enough to penetrate her suit and lacerate any organ they could reach. But she's locked in battle with a K'hund attacking from the front, so all she can do is brace for the inevitable impact.

Suddenly, Nia's view of the Brevakk is eclipsed by the shadow of Lena's back.

"NO!"

The force of the thorns' impact knocks Lena fron her feet, slamming into Nia and causing them both to go down with a cry. Lena's gauntlet fires once, stunning the Brevakk with a glancing blow. Nia throws her own arm out towards her opponent in a desperate bid to gain some ground. The blast of dream energy sends him flying, and when Nia doesn't notice that he doesn't rise again. Her attention is locked on Lena, and the half dozen quills that have found a home in her chest.

"Lena, Lena, oh my god." Nia's hands shake as she climbs out from under Lena and kneels beside her on the pavement. "No, no, no..."

Lena's eyes are glassy and dazed. She looks down at the horns, reaching drunkenly towards them only for Nia to pull her hands away.

"Why did you do that?"

Nia's suit wouldn't have helped much, but it was better than Lena's blouse-- a silly silken thing now ripped and torn, digging into the edges of the wounds around the quills. Lena had no protection beside her gauntlet, and still she had jumped between them.

"N-nia..." Lena's voice crackles in her throat. She coughs, and blood spatters across her chin, staining her berry-red lips a color far more sinister.

Nia's heart lurches with panic. Her head whips up in search of Kara, but Supergirl isn't here. She's on the other side of the city with J'onn, fighting further unrest there. Her eyes lock on another figure, black leather instead of blue.

"ALEX!!"

Nia's shriek cuts through the din, and Sentinel's head whips towards her. In an instant, the pistol in her hand shifts into a warhammer, and Alex slams it down on her opponent, all thoughts of mitigating casualties forgotten. She skids to her knees beside Nia, nearly elbowing her out of the way to crouch over Lena.

"Lena? Jesus... Lena! Can you hear me? Look at me, look at me--"

Lena's eyes track to Alex, and Nia chokes on a sob when she sees the fear in them. But Alex only calms.

"Good, you're okay," Alex tells her, stroking Lena's hair once with a gentle hand. "You're going to be okay."

With her free hand, Alex fumbles for the watch on Lena's wrist, flipping open its face and silently pressing the symbol embossed there. She doesn't take her eyes off Lena for a moment, and when the signal is active Alex slides her palm into Lena's, which curls tightly around hers.

"H-hurts--"

Lena's breath begins to quicken, and the corners of her eyes pinch with the onset of pain. The shock is quickly wearing off, leaving nothing to dull the pain. Alex nods, giving Lena's hand a squeeze.

"I know, but it's going to be okay," she promises. "We're going to get you somewhere safe--"

Supergirl touches down at the moment, pavement cracking beneath the force of her panic. "Lena!!"

Kara kneels opposite her sister, taking in the damage with wide eyes. She grips Lena's free hand tightly, even as she looks to Alex for instructions.

"Hospital," Alex says simply, urgency clipping her tone. "Now."

Kara nods, and gently maneuvers Lena into her arms. Lena cries out, the sound sharp in Nia's ears. When Nia blinks, tears dampen the fabric of her mask.

"I'm sorry," Kara murmurs, pressing her nose to the side of Lena's head. "I'm sorry."

"K-kar--" Lena gasps for breath, coughing up more blood. Her back now visible, Nia sees that one of the thorns has penetrated so deeply that it tents the back of Lena's shirt.

"It's okay," Kara echoes the well-meaning lie of her sister. "I've got you."

In a burst of wind, Kara takes off, and Nia sits dazed in her wake. It's long moments before she registers Alex's insistent hands tugging her up.

"It was supposed to be me," Nia intones, flat with shock. "She--"

"I know," Alex cuts her off, not unkindly. She tugs Nia to her feet then shoves her into a run. "But we need to go. Now!"

Together, they make their retreat, leaving the alley and the unconscious aliens behind just as the distant wail of approaching sirens cuts through the air.

---

Nia wastes no time in stripping off her costume and changing back into her civvies. But before she can reach the exit, Alex cuts her off. "You can't go to the hospital."

Surprise jolts through Nia, before its quickly replaced with anger. "Are you insane?"

"Nia--"

"I can't just wait here-- she-- those barbs were meant for me, Alex! She's hurt because of me. I can't not be there!"

"Kara just called."

Time seems to freeze. Nia feels ice pool in her veins as a lump climbs to her throat and lodges there. "No..."

Alex rushes to reassure her. "No! That's not-- no, Lena's still in surgery. But-- the police are there."

Nia's relief that Lena is alive cuts short with confusion. "What? Why?"

"They're there to take Lena into custody."

"They can't do that!"

"She's aided and abetted known vigilantes," Alex explains. "With everything that's been happening lately--"

"It's not right!"

"Lena will be fine. Truly. Kara is going to CatCo to get Andrea to make the arrest as public as possible. Between that and the Luthor reputation, my guess is that they'll question her about our identities and then let her go."

"That's-- that's--" Nia struggles to find words through her growing rage. The helplessness of the past few months, the rising anti-alien sentiments, the crackdown on Supergirl on her friends... it all comes to a head, and Nia can barely breathe.

Alex reaches for Nia's hand. "If you go now, you'll only risk exposing yourself. Lena wouldn't want that."

Nia sucks in a breath, but it comes in a sob. The next thing she knows, Alex's arms are around her and she's crying into her shoulder, huge lurching sobs that feel like the world is quaking around her.

"It's okay," Alex promises.

"It's my fault," Nia gasps. "It's all my fault..."

"Lena's going to be okay."

---

Nia may not be able to go to the hospital, but she can't stay in the Tower either. In the end she goes to CatCo, ready to throw her weight behind Kara's pitch to fry the police in the press. Luckily, Andrea doesn't need the convincing.

"I want both of you on this," their boss delivers with a coolness sharpened to a razors edge by the glint of rage in her eyes. "William too. I want you to dig up anything you can find about the arresting officers. Any whisper of corruption within the NCPD that you might have been sitting on, now is your time to air it. CatCo won't stand for this."

Nia and Kara both nod solemnly before retreating to their desks. But instead of diverting to her own desk, Kara follows Nia to hers.

"How are you holding up?"

The gentle question threatens a resurgence of tears. Nia looks away, only for her eyes to catch on the photo of her and Lena on her desk, taken at one of their sister nights the year before. Nia can't remember the last time they've hung out, just the two of them.

Blinking furiously, Nia flips the picture down and opens up her laptop. "Fine."

"It's okay to not be fine..."

"Do you want to know if I'm angry that my friend is alone in the hospital because of me? Fine! I'm angry!"

Kara's features soften. "Nia..."

"It's my fault she's there in the first place!" Nia hisses. The lump returns to her throat, and her eyes burn with unshed tears. "She just, just... she just jumped between us! I should've--"

"Hey." Kara calms her with a hand on her shoulder. Nia sucks in a breath, then another, trying to steady herself. Finally, Kara's features pinch into a bemused smile. "You know Lena... There's no line she won't cross, for the people she cares about."

Instead of comforting her, Kara's words only makes Nia grit her teeth. She turns back to the computer. They better be willing to do the same for her.

"Let's get to work."

----

The first article runs the following morning, skewering the police department for rampant anti-alien abuses while highlighting Lena's charity and outreach. While it's not quite enough to banish the police presence from the hospital, it does get a single visitor in to see Lena. Nia expects Kara to take it, but to her surprise Kara simply nods her towards the door.

"Go," Kara says softly. "Give her our love."

Nia doesn't stop to ask twice. She's ushered into Lena's hospital room by a kindly looking nurse, glaring at the officer posted outside the door on her way in. The second her eyes land on Lena, rage swells in her chest at the side of the handcuffs tethering Lena to the bed.

"Is that really necessary?" she demands, balling her hands into fists. "Where is she going to go?"

"Nia..." Lena's soft voice from the bed interrupts her before she can gather much steam. "It's okay."

Nia huffs, eyeing the way the officer slowly moves his hand from his sidearm when Nia turns back to the room. But then all she can see is Lena, hair limp and torso bulky with bandages under her hospital gown.

"It's not okay," Nia says, sitting in the chair thats been placed next to Lena's bed.

"It's just a misunderstanding," Lena insists, her gaze sliding towards the door. The door itself remains open, denying them any sense of privacy. But Lena doesn't seem to mind when her gaze returns to Nia. "You okay?"

Nia chokes on her own tongue. "Am I--? Lena, you're in the hospital..."

"And I'm okay." Lifting her cuffed wrist, Lena silently reaches for Nia's hand, which Nia offers without hesitation. "Promise."

All of a sudden, the tears come back, pressing against her eyelids as she squeezes her eyes shut. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry--"

"It's okay," Lena assures her. "I'm okay."

"You shouldn't have--"

"Been there in the alley? When that guy tried to mug me?" Lena asks pointedly. Clearly, she's already established her cover story. "You're right, I should have known better." She pitches her voice loud enough to carry to the door. "I'm just lucky Sentinel and Dreamer were there to help me."

They wait a moment to listen for a response, but when none comes, they devolve into a fit of giggles.

"Ow," Lena grimaces with a cough. "No laughing for a while."

Nia tightens her grip on Lena's hand. "I... Lena, I'm so sorry--"

"I'd do it again," Lena returns, softly this time. Her words are for Nia alone. "That's what friends do."

---

Alex turns out to be right. As soon as Lena is well enough to leave the hospital, she's taken to the precinct for interrogation, but between CatCo's articles stirring up enough local support that a crowd forms around the precinct to protest the arrest, and the kind of lawyers a Luthor can acquire even after abandoning the family legacy, Lena is released without charge in a matter of hours.

Nia stays at the Tower hoping to see her, but Lena doesn't come.

"She's guessed she's probably being watched," Alex tells her. "She'll being laying low for a while til the heat dies down. All the better, honestly. It'll give her time to heal."

Nia swallows thickly. "Where is she?"

"Home. Kara's with her, but I'm sure she'd love to see you."

Nia approaches Lena's condo without much of a plan. She's armed with snacks and movies, but she knows that having Kara there won't give Nia the time with Lena she needs. She misses Lena, all more the more since she realized how long it had been since they'd just been... friends. More than allies, more than teammates, just... friends.

It feels like Maeve all over again.

But she swallows her nerves and takes the elevator up. Kara opens the door just as Nia lifts her hand to knock.

"Hey," Kara says quietly. She steps aside to let Nia in, and though she can hear the tv from the next room, they linger in the foyer.

"Is everything okay?" Kara asks.

Nia nods. "Yeah. Um. I just--"

She doesn't have an explanation either. Nia stares at her feet, until Kara breaks the silence.

"Look, I have a favor to ask..."

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind staying with Lena for a few hours?"

When Nia looks up, she finds Kara scrubbing the back of her head with one hand, looking sheepish.

"Yeah," she continues, "I've been kind of... hovering? And I think it's getting on her nerves a little. So I figured I could get some stuff done at CatCo--"

"Yes," Nia blurts. "Yes, of course. I'll stay."

Kara grins. "Thanks. She's in the living room now, if you want to..."

"Right. Yeah, I've got this. Go."

Kara thanks her with another smile that makes her whole face shine. "Call if you need anything."

She slips out the door with a wink, and locks it behind her. Nia walks to the living room on wooden legs, and finds Lena laying on the couch against a pile of pillows, propping her up to take the pressure off her wounds.

She looks up when Nia enters, and though her eyes are tired, her features crease into a smile. "Hey..."

"Hey."

Lena struggles to sit up, prompting Nia to close the distance swiftly. "No, no, no, stay comfy."

Relenting with a sigh, Lena groans. "Not like I have much choice these days."

"It'll get better."

Silence follows. Nia stands awkwardly, hands gripping her bag of candy tightly until Lena regards it with curiosity.

"What's all this?"

Nia starts. "Oh. Uhm... I thought-- well, I was wondering..." She trails off, shoulders slumping. "It's been a while since we've had sister's night."

When Lena doesn't answer, Nia risks a glance up to find Lena blinking in astonishment, before her features soften to warmth. She smiles.

"Well, there's no time like the present."

Lena lifts her arms, making playful grabby motions with her hands.

"What'd you bring me?"

----

Hours later, Kara returns home to find Nia seated on the couch with Lena's legs across her lap. It's as close to cuddling as Lena can get, with her injuries, and the way Nia's hands are spread over Lena's shins tells Kara that the contacr was very much needed.

Lena sleeps peacefully, the tv low in the background. Nia looks up at Kara from the shadows, the light reflecting in the tear tracks painted on her cheeks. Without a word, Kara slips in next to Nia, working her way under Lena's ankles to wrap one arm around the younger girl's shoulders.

Nia hugs her back, shaking quietly with the effort to keep her crying silent.

"It's okay," Kara whispers. Nia nods against her. So long as they were all together, they could get through anything.

"We're going to be okay."

#supercorp #nia and lena brotp #kind of a continuation of sister sister #alternate universe #but could have conceivably happened if lena had been part of the superfriends during the col storyline #that sort of atmosphere #let me know what you think

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the-apprentice-lia · 3 years

Note

hi, i'm in love with u. seriously, you got some real talent! also, i'm here to make a request, excuse me~~ can you write the main 6 and the mc in some sort of a date..? let's say it's their day, maybe it's been a year since they're together and the main 6 prepared a special day to the mc, plsss? thanks 🖤

hiii!! wait come back, i love you too!! thank you so much, i’m so glad you enjoy my writing!☺️ i’m honestly relieved at this headcanon since i’ve been writing so much angst so thank you! i don’t think i’d have been able to write a piece that would break my heart again!!

the main 6 on their one year anniversary with mc

asra

• let’s clear something up really quickly: asra’s the most romantic person you’ll ever meet. aside from maybe nadia. but this ain’t about her (for now). they’re 100% the type to leave you roses lying around the house with sweet little love notes, compose you magical poetry that makes the entire room smell of ambrosia and only unfurls when you’ve had a terrible day, and drop kisses to any part of you they’re able to reach during the day. so, for your one year anniversary? oh, get ready.

• i can see asra actually asking one of the arcana for the temporary use of their realm, (bonus if he says they’re free to use the magic shop while you two are on your date, and double bonus if a wandering customer who doesn’t take note of the ‘we’re closed’ sign is met with cunning, tapered amaranthine eyes, and a sly, vulpine smile.) and using his magic to enhance the familiar setting even more. he’s probably spent months planning this, ensuring everything’s absolutely perfect on the recurrence of day he first pledged his love to you.

• asra’s not there next to you when you awaken, so you call for him as soft morning sunlight filters through the window, falling across your empty bed and your summons echo through the deserted store. he’s obviously closed it for the day since you’ve slept in, and as you stumble towards the kitchen, you stop as you notice the new outfit laid carefully out on your shared desk, with a note lying beside it.

• “follow me to where you first met me through the palace fountains.” you take in the painstakingly-calligraphied note with a soft smile. asra’s hand-writing is… questionable at best, and barely-legible scribbles at worst, and this note has the prettiest handwriting you’ve seen. the little ‘I’ at the bottom of the note tells you where you need to go, and you grin as you rush to get ready.

• as you pay more attention to the outfit, a soft smile crosses your face. the beautifully put-together ensemble (asra has impeccable fashion sense, fight me) is in your favourite colour, and you sprint to the bath-chamber just so you can put it on sooner. when you finally emerge, you meet your own eyes in the mirror with a beam. it fits you delightfully, outlining the shape of your body and falling perfectly, the fabric looking as if it’s made just for you. you give a little twirl in the mirror with a raw burst of laughter; you not only look and feel beautiful, this is asra’s gift to you and you couldn’t be happier in it.

• finally finished, you follow the trail of magic asra’s left— a shimmering, iris-purple trail that’s obviously reflective of his aura— to where a final gift waits for you, with a carefully-scrolled note left behind it. “open me when you’ve found our spot,” it reads, and you grin at asra’s layers of planning. it means so much to you that he cares about you so much, truly.

• you let your eyes flutter shut, attuning yourself only to the unique aura of the magician’s realm. you know the world is slowly falling away around you, and as you open your eyes again, asra stands before you with the biggest smile on his face. his eyes are twinkling and you know, in that moment, that you’d follow your lover to the ends of the earth.

• it’s the lake where you first entered the magician’s realm to visit asra. painted in the fiery-amber hues of an eternal sunset, the amaranthine sky stretches and ripples before you endlessly, fish jumping between the reeds. they sway gently in the breeze and stretch away from the marigolden reflection of the sun-setting sky on the lake, bleeding in an amethyst kaleidoscope into an electric blue that you long to slip your fingers through. it almost looks as if it would feel like silk.

• “mc, you’ve found me!” comes his teasing voice as he sweeps you up in his arms. he kisses you deeply, before stepping aside to let you take in the picnic he’s set up near the water’s edge. well, picnic in the most basic sense of the word, you think as you look in wonder around you. asra’s set up a beautiful array of coloured blankets, fairy lights hovering in the air all around you. he’s enchanted the glowing orbs to revolve slowly around the two of you, and you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with the beautiful person in front of you.

• after the magical evening in the magician’s realm, you give your fellow arcana his domain back as asra’s hand in yours pulls you through the fabric of the realms and you’re standing back in your shop.

• when you waken in the morning, after your (practically non-existent;) lovely sleep, you find it’s long past the time that the two of you usually decide to open the store. again, asra’s broken duties (which in and of itself is a great feat?!) simply to spend time with the love of their life. you show your appreciation with extra cuddles that he accepts with a sleepy smile, his warm and utterly contented aura mingling with yours and making your morning even better.

nadia

• okay she’s probably tied with asra in the romance department. she just can’t help it! gifts have always been her love-language, even when, only known as the youngest satrinava princess, the only meaningful gifts she used to be able to give were the gifts she made herself— intricate devices, levers and pulleys in the latest fashion that wax and wane with the sun so that your plants never want for any light— you name it, she could have, and probably had before, made it. so, when she was young, since she was so insecure and unsure of herself, gifts were the only way she was ever able to show affection.

• now, of course, she’ll move you close to her wherever you are with a gentle hand around your waist, press little kisses to your cheeks or forehead, pull you to her and press a soft kiss to your lips— no, your beloved never fails to show you just how much you mean to her, just how much she loves you. however… she does love to see the berry-red blush spread across your face at her lavish gifts, the small, adorable “thank you, nadi,” she’s certain to get. she also absolutely lives for doesn’t mind the thank you hugs.

• and so, the first thing you see as you awaken on your one-year anniversary, is an actual mountain of presents. and this is not an exaggeration. no, this is… as large a pile of gifts as you’ve ever seen, sitting in the corner of your shared chambers together. your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sheer volume of presents she’s got you. you had been sure of your gift (singular!!) to her, but looking around you… doubt slips into your mind. you shake it off, calling into your chambers.

• “uh… nadi?” your voice echoes through the empty space as you ruffle your hair with your fingers, swinging your legs out of bed and onto… is that a path of rose petals?? and not even just scattered, an entire, beautifully arranged path of (somehow) amaranthine rose-petals. it’s so soft, and you can’t help laughing in incredulous delight as you savour the silken feel of the path beneath your feet. of course, you follow it. you’d hate for all her obviously meticulous planning to go to waste— no, you’re going to make sure this day goes exactly to plan! you step across the gossamer-soft, sweet-smelling path laid out for you as you approach nadia’s divan next to her paper folding-doors that she usually changes behind. you exhale softly as you take in the breathtaking outfit in front of you, squealing with delight as you sweep it up in your arms and twirl behind the doors.

• when you’ve changed and fixed your hair, (if it’s to your liking ordinarily, she’s even matched accessories for you!) you step out from behind the doors only to be swept towards a dressing-table by one of nadia’s attendants. they’re finished quickly, and as they leave you go to look in the mirror, and stop in your tracks. that’s… you? the person staring back at you is quite unfamiliar. you stare with no small measure of disbelief at smooth, rosy-apple cheeks underneath star-filled eyes, and soft, blushing lips, hanging open.

• if gowns are more to your liking, the one nadia’s chosen for you is absolutely stunning, even more so on your figure. it looks as if it was made for you! in your favourite colour, the hue that undoubtedly looks best on you, it fits at your waist and flairs out prettily, billowing around your ankles as you turn this way and that. the fabric falls off you perfectly, nadia would have spared absolutely no expense, and the shoes she’s picked out accentuate your great beauty even further. whatever your chosen outfit, however, nadia ensures that you look absolutely breathtaking in it.

• once you’re finished, you follow the trail of rose petals through your chamber doors, taking your little gift with you. anyone who sees you on your way absolutely stops in their tracks. anyone who sees you? immediately in love with you. gay or straight, doesn’t matter— they’re absolutely besotted with you now!! you note the lack of servants with a faint smile— nadia’s had most of the palace staff dismissed for the day, a skeleton-crew keeping the palace running on minimal functions for the day. today is your day. it belongs only to the two of you, and she won’t have her duties as countess interfering.

• when the trail finally ends, at the entrance to the palace gardens, you bend ever so slightly (someone cranes their neck at this and gets a little slap upside the head from a mildly irritated portia. don’t interrupt her! she’s fangirling so. hard. all her ship dreams are finally coming true!!) and pick up the parchment note nadia’s carefully scrolled. when you pick it up, it immediately unfurls in your hands to reveal the most elegant calligraphy you’ve ever seen. if you think nadia’s writing (when she isn’t planning or inventing, that is) isn’t the most lovely handwriting you’ve ever seen, you’re wrong. “come and find me,” reads the elegantly curving script in nadia’s hand. even simply reading it, you can almost hear the teasing, lilting air to her voice she would have had as she’d read the note out, and you set out with a warm smile to go and find your love.

• you think you know exactly where to find her, you think with a small smile to yourself. you’re quite enjoying yourself, playing nadia’s game. you could never hope to beat her at any game of wit, but you’d lose to her again and again if it meant having her guiding hands on yours, teaching you patiently, her soft voice tickling your cheek, her soft kiss ‘well done’ as you master a concept. you love this woman so much, it’s almost overtaking. as you’ve been reflecting, your feet have been carrying you towards the part of the garden that has always belonged to the two of you.

• ever since you pulled her away from the insistent clamour of the court to hide in the little clearing you two had unwittingly stumbled upon, you had always met here for your strolls through the gardens, made out read together here, and always enjoyed your time alone, here where nobody can find the two of you. (well, actually… portia found your little spot ages ago, but felt too terrible to interrupt your time together. she’s also probably been leading everyone subtly away from your spot together. “no, they’re not to be bothered! no, it can wait! leave them alone or so help me—”)

• when you finally reach the secluded clearing right in the thicket of the palace gardens, you turn into your safe-haven together, and lose your breath. nadia hasn’t turned towards you yet, but the clearing is strung with beautiful lights that dot the bushes around you and make it seem like there are little fireflies in amongst the bushes, there are new wildflowers planted all through the thicket that gives the little clearing even more of a charming atmosphere, and the soft blanket that’s spread across the floor is a classic daisy-white, edged with lace and strewn with baby’s breath. there’s a feast fit to feed many more than two people on a slightly raised honey-oak wood platter.

• nadia herself is dressed in an outfit you haven’t seen her wear before, a long, flowing cream-coloured dress that fits her waist and flares out in a single layer, a slit running up to show most of a long, perfect leg. her hair is open and tumbling in beautiful, shining amaranthine waves down her back. the dress billows around her arms only to cinch in at the wrist, and you find yourself unable to look away. “nadi…” your voice is soft, and she turns to you, anything she has to say dying on her lips as she inhales sharply.

• “my love, you look… exquisite,” comes her breathy voice, her eyes sparkling as she takes you in wearing the outfit she picked for you. “well, it’s all thanks to you,” you say lightly, trying to take away from the fact that your face is so hot you think it would burn you to touch it. she notices, and stifles her fond smile lest she embarrass you. instead, she strides across the clearing in one quick motion, takes you by the waist, dips you over, and meets your lips with her soft, full ones. you sigh into her, running your hands through your hair as you’ve been longing to do since first you walked into the clearing. she reluctantly pulls you back up again when you break away for air, keeping her arm around your waist as she pulls you close to her again, stroking your cheek as you look into her eyes, lost in how utterly regal she is. you’re seized by another wave of admiration and love for this woman. you can’t even find the words to tell her how much she means to you, and so you pull her to you in another kiss.

• you don’t even realise you’re pouring all your love for her into your kiss both figuratively and literally until she pulls away, looking at you with an utterly overwhelmed expression, tears tinged with rose-petal pink rolling down her cheeks. “oh, nadi i’m so sorry! oh, please don’t cry!! i didn’t mean to— mmrph!” she cuts you off, meeting your lips with such fervour you take a step back— but she pulls you back to her, moulding you into her person as if the two of you are one and the same. but in a way, you are. you’d be a shell of a person without your love, and you know how deep her affection for you is.

• “mc… that was overtaking,” comes her soft voice. “oh nadi, i’m so sorry i wasn’t thinking!” you stumble over your words, berating yourself again and again in your mind. “sometimes it just happens and i don’t realise it, but—” she shushes you, her eyes shining. “you love me… that much?” her soft voice comes, and you pull back in confusion to take her in.

• “uh… nadi. you’re the most stunning, clever, kind, resourceful person i’ve ever met. you’ve got the biggest heart and i absolutely love you for it. you make me so, so happy,” you tell her, a wide smile on your face. “of course my love for you is overtaking! i think i fall in love with you a little more every day,” you confess, a sheepish smile on your face as you look away from her, but she turns you back to her by your chin, pulling you to her for another kiss.

• “you complete me.” is her only reply. you know she can’t put what she feels for you into words, but you look up at her with surprise as she takes your hand suddenly. “mc i can’t put all that i feel for you into words but my aura will allow you to see just how much i adore you,” she tells you with a warm smile as you place your hand on her face, opening your mind to her aura. it’s a simple spell, you shouldn’t be feeling this drained simply from tapping into nadia’s aura, and yet… when the full force of her love for you hits you, you actually stumble. when nadia catches you, her laugh is warm and full of love as she lowers you both down onto the picnic blanket. you snuggle further into her arms, resting your head on her chest as her arms encircle you. “oh, nadia. thank you.” you don’t say anything else, hoping she’ll know just what you’re thanking her for. she does. you think she’ll always understand you, whether you tell her or not, and as she pulls away gently to pull a bowl of your favourite fruit towards the two of you, you’re struck by how lucky you are. how lucky, to have this incredible woman sitting here beside you at all.

• “come here, mc,” comes her soft voice. for once, she doesn’t need to put on a front for anyone. it’s just her and the one she loves. will make as if she’s going to feed you, and then tease you instead, maybe getting a little juice on your cheek and kissing it off you. the rest of your picnic together is spent simply talking quietly, enjoying each other’s company. you dance slowly in the clearing, your head on nadia’s chest as she leads the two of you in w slow dance, her hand securely around your waist. neither of you need to say very much, and the beginnings of sunset comes to find the pair of you stretched out lazily on the picnic blanket. her head rests on your lap as you stroke her hair gently, probably running your fingers through it a few times, and singing her a lullaby or just a sweet and or slow song.

• a.n: yes, i said singing. i don’t care whether you think your voice is pretty or not, (it is. fight me.) nadia loves it because it’s uniquely yours. nothing puts her more at ease than your slow and steady voice reading or singing to her. look, some voices are deemed by most people to be the standard, lovely voice— and if you fall into that category then great! i’m so happy your voice is like that!! but if you don’t, i want you to know that some voices are made just to sing softly-spoken lullabies and i think that’s beautiful. <3

• but towards the end of your picnic, you’ll tell her tentatively, “nadi… ?” she’ll hum in response. “yes, my heart?” “well um… i know you got me all those gifts and i just wanted to say thank you,” you say softly. she sits up, coming to cup your cheek. “anything for you, my dearest. but what troubles you?”

• “well it’s just that my gift isn’t all that, i just made it myself,” you’ll try to tell her, but she’s having none of it. is shushing you by the second sentence. “don’t say ‘just’, mc. i made some of your gifts myself, too. it means that you care for me so, that you know well enough what i’d like,” she tells you with a gentle smile.

• you’ll pull out the small, carefully wrapped package in your favourite colour. “here it is,” you tell her shyly. “i hope you like it.”

• when she unwraps it, she looks to you with shining eyes. “mc, this is beautiful!” she tells you. it’s a jewellery box you smelted using magic. the intricate engravings on the top took an especially long time to do, but they’re in native prakran and your home language, looping elegantly through one another to form confessions of love, linked so that they’ll never end. in the middle are the numbers ‘II’ and ‘0’ in roman numerals, and she looks to you with glassy eyes before you tell her softly to open it.

• when she does, she loses her breath. “mc… is this you and i?” she asks you, looking up at you with the most beautiful smile you can’t help but give one in return. you nod in response, your mouth curving up ever so slightly as you recall the memory. “oh, this was our first ever dance!” she tells you, her eyes alight at the memory. “i remember how we pushed and pulled like magnets. you knew everything i was going to do before i did it, mc, and you trusted me to lead you. it was the first time i truly saw you dance, and it was uniquely beautiful,” she tells you, smiling at you. you can’t help but meet her lips at her adorable expression, pulling her to you as she tilts your head up and to the side, resting her hands on your hipbones.

• she has a gala for you over the next few days where she leads you again in the palatial dance, the two of you dancing in sync and a beautiful rhythm as she spins you around in your beautiful outfit, but today belongs to the two of you.

• you’re not getting any sleep tonight! so enjoy. but seriously, it’s the most loving, gentle night you’ve had with her yet and that’s saying something since nadia takes care of you so much. still so filled with passion, though. the morning after, she’s cancelled everything to simply lay with you, and you’re overjoyed at the unexpected gesture.

• you’ll definitely blush as you catch sight of her thoroughly marked neck, and she’ll pull you to her sleepily. you’ll both get the rest you deserve.

julian

• as you awaken, you notice that your room is empty, and you call out for julian as you step out of bed. “hey, jules!” your call echoes through the empty house.

• julian hasn’t left you a trail of rose petals, but rather detailed, encrypted instructions that lead you through the town, picking up items everywhere you go. every time you solve a clue, a grin spreads across your face— they’re all so thought through, so meaningful. you love this man and all his melodrama so much.

• when you’re finally finished with the list, you find yourself in a secluded section of the whispering woods, looking around yourself in awe. this part of the forest is lit with bioluminescence, beautiful flowers and plants streaked with all sorts of glowing colours curling into the undergrowth and lighting up the night with bursts of colour. julian sits on a dark picnic blanket, a lantern beside him, with a luminous blue, star-like flower held out towards you. “you’ve found me, mc,” comes his playful voice, and you just barrel into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing with all your might.

• all through the picnic, julian softly tells you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you, as you feed him bits of lobster claw, and eventually when the night is over it finds the two of you strolling slowly back to your house, julian’s hand tightly in yours.

muriel

• when you awaken muriel’s right there beside you, pulling you into him gently. “happy one year anniversary, mc,” he murmurs into your hair. the two of you will just snuggle and relax for the entire morning, and towards the middle of the day he’ll tell you with the biggest, tomato-red blush on his face that he… picked out an outfit for you that he thought you’d like, (with asra’s help, of course— or maybe he asked nadia, and she was surprised and taken aback but utterly delighted to help her friend) and would you like to get dressed now… ? he’ll come and pick you up later, when everything’s all set up.

• you take in the outfit with a soft smile. although it’s simple, you love it. you dress right away and spend the rest of the afternoon matching accessories and shoes, and doing your hair. if you like dresses, it’s a simple forest-green summer dress that hugs your waist and flares out, that you pair with a little locket muriel made you when he confessed his love to you. you’re wearing heels or flats, but either way you look lovely. if not a gown, you wear a simple forest-green shirt and a pair of linen trousers. either way, the simplicity makes you look radiant.

• when muriel comes back to get you, he takes you in with wide eyes, a blush spreading steadily across his face. “whoa… mc you’re so pretty,” he’ll tell you with a soft smile, and you can’t resist pressing your lips to his. he takes your hand in his and walks you through the forest. little murmurs of “mc you’re so lovely,” and “mc i love you so much,” break the calm forest noise as the two of you stroll through wildflowers and holly, until you reach a clearing full of wildflowers. it’s night now, dusk has long since fallen, and the meadow looks even more beautiful as you turn back to muriel with a grin. “muri it’s so pretty! thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him with a soft smile.

• he pulls you forward to the picnic blanket, and the two of you lay down with your faces to the stars. as he feeds you, he’ll point out constellations and tell you their stories, his voice soft and full of love. when he tells you the story of orion and the pleiades, you groan in protest you find that he still chases them across the night sky. “i’d chase you across the night sky for all eternity,” comes his quiet voice, his warm breath tickling your cheek as crickets chirrup quietly all around the two of you.

• come morning, the two of you accidentally fell asleep in the clearing… but neither of you are even mildly unhappy about that, and you laugh together the entire way home, making jokes and retelling the stories from last night in silly voices.

• muriel cuddles with you for most of today, as well.

portia

• when you wake, it’s to the sweet smell of something baking, and you throw your feet out of bed immediately, sprinting to the kitchen as you take in portia, with tousled morning hair in her sleep-shirt and underwear, baking your favourite desert. you sneak up behind her and tickle her sides, and she almost drops the tray she’s holding, setting it down quickly to turn to you, a stern expression on her face. it quickly melts away as she’s reminded of how adorable you are, and instead she feeds you a bit of batter or custard, kissing your nose as you give her a big morning hug, coming up to meet her lips and running your fingers through her hair.

• “oh, mc…” she signs into your lips. “good morning to you too, my love,” comes your answering voice, a smile on your lips. her lips curve up as well. “happy one year anniversary, mc!!” she shouts, barrelling into you with another bear hug. “oh, sweet arcana, let me die here,” you sigh into her arms before she thwacks your forehead lightly. “nuh uh, mc. you’ve already done that once,” she reminds you as you grin sheepishly.

• when she’s finished baking, you two probably take a nice warm bath together. you’ve each bought each other outfits, and you go to seperwre corners of the house, giggling softly, to change. your outfit is definitely cottagecore, and as you change into it you’re taken by how cute it looks. if you prefer gowns, yours is a classic white sleeveless picnic dress that hugs your waist and flares out around your ankles, with a tie at the back that folds sweetly into a bow. you’ve got straw wedge heels that go perfectly with the dress, and classic accessories to go along with it. if you prefer trousers, you have a classic set of light brown trousers and a cream-coloured shirt with a classic hat that matches your trousers.

• you’ve bought portia a lovely petal-pink dress with billowing sleeves that cinch around the elbows, that flutters out to the ankles, (you had it measured specifically so she doesn’t trip in it) and a soft tie to go around her waist. you’re hoping she leaves her hair open, and as the two of you meet in the kitchen in the middle of the house, both of you smile at the other. before either of you can say anything, pepi gives a proud little “peep!” and sits in between the both of you, tilting her head. the two of you haven’t left her out of the fun, and she’s got a sweet little cream-and-pink coloured bow around her neck. the two of you laugh as portia turns to you. “i knew you’d look amazing in that, sweetheart!” she tells you with a grin. “give us a twirl!” you do so, and spin her in your arms, pulling her in for a kiss as the two of you grab the picnic basket and head out.

• the meadow is big and beautiful, stretching into the distance. there are wildflowers everywhere, and as you lay out the picnic blanket you can’t help pulling portia up to you and away from the blanket to dance with you among the flowers. dancing with portia isn’t like dancing with any of the other main 6. dancing with portia is… instinctual. you’re led by your shared love and trust in each other, and it’s gentle but sure. you know she’s there to lead you in the dance, and her hand around your waist is secure. as you dance, she rests her head on your chest as you now take control, leading the two of you in a slow spin and then dipping her to meet her lips with yours.

• you feed each other, and read to each other, simply enjoying each other’s company until the sun sets.

lucio

• lucio has the entire day planned to a tee. the outfit he’s picked out for you is obviously lavish and probably worth more than some people make in a lifetime. gifts are also his love language, but he’s very domineering in what he’ll give you. it all conforms to what he wants you to wear and like. and so, even if you aren’t too into the overly expensive outfit, you wear it anyway and take yourself down to the gala he’s planned specifically for today.

• “ah, my darling mc!” he calls to you, as a smile lights up his face. he pulls you to him, dipping you for the whole court to see as he rights you again, wrapping his arm around your waist. “oh, mc. you do know that i love you more than life itself, don’t you?” comes his dramatic voice, soft so only you can hear.

• when the banquet is finished, get ready to not sleep at all have a lovely relaxing night.

#asra headcanons #asra x mc #countess nadia #julian devorak #julian the arcana #lucio the arcana #muriel the arcana #muriel x mc #asra the arcana #nadia headcanons #portia the arcana #portia devorak #julian headcanons #the arcana fluff #nadia the arcana fluff

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nerdwriting · 3 years

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The Creative Directors Behind Fate: The Winx Saga Must Not Be K-Pop Fans

Also, they have a pretty wrong idea of the role fashion should play in a show.

There are a few words that will stand out across most reviews of Netflix's Fate: The Winx Saga - drab, boring, flop, flat, unimaginative. Critics and audiences consensus is that the show is not only a mediocre-at-best story, but also an atrocious (and ultimately confusing) choice of adaptation of the color pop and fairy magic cartoon it’s based on, 2004 italian cartoon Winx Club.

Fate has plenty of it's own issues - white washing and erasing characters, cringey dialogue, outdated melodrama, etc. But where it truly, unequivocally fails is as an adaptation. Fate misses everything that was magical and lovable about the original series, in all levels, from bizarre writing choices, - such as never actually developing any sense of friendship between the characters, who are based on a cartoon about…..a group…….of friends -, but it's especially and immediately felt in the art direction and costume design.

Winx Club is set on a fantastical world, Magix, where each of our main characters hail from a different planet, à la Sailor Moon. Alfea, the fairy school they attend, is the most common background: a pastel colored, futuristic high tech-meets-fantasy, art nouveau inspired castle. Alfea sets the tone for the whole visual of the cartoon: bright, colorful, futuristic meets vintage, leaning into the technological positivism of the Y2K style, uniting it with magic, DnD worthy monsters and, of course, fairy wings. Often featured are also the Red Fountain school, where the Specialists train, and especially Cloud Tower, the goth and gothic inspired witch school Alfea has an OxBridge rivalry with (How cool would that be in a live action? I guess we’ll never know…).

On Fate, Alfea is the only school we ever see, and it’s another beige boarding school in not-Britain, somehow set in a magical world where everyone has the exact same technology and even social media that we have on Earth in 2021, no transformations and, most egregiously, no fairy wings.

This lack of visual creativity is pervasive throughout the whole show, and its most heartbreaking iteration is in the characters' wardrobe. The styling has the barest bones of a color scheme, - such as 'Bloom has to only dress in red since fire, duh',- the clothes are ill fitting, bland, dark and very dated. These are supposed to be teenagers who enjoy fashion, and yet they look like varying types of soccer moms from 2010.

The series seems to operate on an old and tired vision that women and girls can’t have depth and have adventures and fight monsters while also caring about fashion, a vision that the original show played a big, big role in challenging in the early 2000's. Fashion and costume design sets as much of the tone of a visual medium as the script does; through clothes we can gauge characters’ backgrounds, passions, and personality.

Winx Club has some of the best examples of this in the cartoon sphere - Bloom’s comfortable and bright style, Stella’s glitzy and bold, Musa’s edgy and cool, Aisha’s sporty and fun, Techna’s neon and tech gear inspired, Flora’s earthy and romantic, they all work as extensions of each character and serve a narrative purpose. And that’s not even mentioning how insulting it feels that in their quest to make Winx “edgier, darker” and fit for an older audience, the creators of Fate somehow decided that was in opposition to caring about style and fashion. Most “girly” shows, including the Winx Club are just as much adventure action shows as the ones geared towards boys, and it’s emphasis in fashion, friendship and color does not detract from that. The original run of the cartoon deals with war, violence, grief, abusive relationships and even genocide; leaning into those plotlines would not require Fate to erase any integral parts of what made Winx so beloved, and the fact that they did shows that the Netflix team completely missed the point of fashion in the original show, and really, the point of fashion and costume design in the world building of any show.

That, however, is not a mistake K-Pop makes very often; (This might seem like a bit of wild swerve in topic, but stay with me here). Unlike it's western counterpart, the Korean pop scene never lost the emphasis on music videos and how the visual medium can complete and potentialize music and performance; the K-Pop culture is very album and concept oriented in a way that has been all but lost in many other pop circuits, and the music video, styling and set design of a ‘comeback era’ is a key point of excitement among fans.

As such, music videos that follow storylines, connected universes, boundary pushing concepts and visual effects are the norm, rather than the exception, and a list could be made of works that are beautiful examples of what a live action Winx adaptation could look like. In fact, and very smoothly, here is a small list of exactly that!

A Small List of K-Pop Music Videos That Are Better Winx Club Live Actions Than Fate: The Winx Saga

3. Red Velvet - Psycho

If it was a darker and more somber look that Fate wanted, there was a way to make it actually appealing. While it still feels a liiitle too grown up and elegant for Winx, (maybe this author is biased, as a full proponent for the Y2K fun) Psycho makes a very compelling argument for a witchy, mysterious, fairy tale-esque show that could look scrumptious and definitely not boring, or even a gorgeous example of what the witches in Cloud Tower could look like. Black and white, dark green, pastel blue and pops of jewel tones make Psycho's color palette. To add interest to the understated colors, the styling is heavy on textures; We see plenty of stonework, intricate embroidery, tassels, lace on lace on lace, feathers, bows, opera gloves and lots of glitter. All of that is offset by bold, dark makeup, leather accents and eerie cinematography. Needle & Thread, Marchesa Notte and Self Portrait lend their hyper feminine and intricately detailed tulle gowns, juxtaposed with the creepiness of the lyrics and the dark backgrounds; their deep berry and green fairy tale looks are built with pieces from Zara to Nina Ricci to Dolce & Gabbana to Alexander McQueen.

Red Velvet’s more edgy styling for 2018's Bad Boy would also not feel out of place on the Trix.

2. IZ*ONE - Fiesta

IZ*ONE kicked off 2020 with sweet and fun Fiesta. The MV features rooms with mismatched décor that go from retro to space opera, rocky faux landscapes that feel other worldly, and visual effects that would look perfect on the back of a transformation sequence. Mirroring the set design, the girls wear various outfits by sustainable up and coming brand Chopova Lowena. Their signature skirts made with discarded and repurposed fabrics give a cool and interesting twist on a schoolgirl look that would look very sweet for a band of school fairies that occasionally go off to save the world. Also, wouldn't those bedazzled headphones look great on Musa's fairy outfit?

1. Aespa - Black Mamba and Next Level

Aespa is what fans call a monster rookie. With only three music videos under their belt, they still have some of the most visually interesting work in the industry right now. Their concept is very tied in with high tech, featuring even AI avatars of each member, packaged in a glitzy, fantastical and futuristic aesthetic, candy pop meets cyberpunk. I think I’ve exhausted ways to say that is exactly what a perfect Winx adaptation should feature.

Their debut smash hit, 2020’s Black Mamba is truly a perfect moodboard for live action Winx. Wearing a sequined and colorful mix and match of Dollskill, Gucci, Didu and Balenciaga to a backdrop that features some alien fairy forest realness, a pyschedelic fever dream, rooms straight out of a Y2K catalog or donning lime green and black techwear inside a metro fighting the "black mamba", Aespa look through and through the part of fashion loving fairies who save the world together, while looking fierce, stylish and, most importantly, interesting.

The styling and the sets jump seamlessly from more casual colorful fits with blouses, shirts and baggy pants to barren, darkly lit backgrounds and fringe-and-glitter heavy pieces necessary to fight giant snakes, in a way so fitting to transformation outfits for magical girls we could cry.

In their third MV, 2021's Next Level, the cyber in their concept is taken up a notch (get it. because Next Level-), set to a futuristic urbanscape intersped with a planet made of crystals and the ocasional alien fauna popping up again. We get treated to Monse, The 2nd Skin Co., Johanna Ortiz and The Attico styled to fairy princess standards, sporty sky racers and a white and sequined group styling that is top ten fairy busy saving the world uniform material, or maybe even a specialist worthy getup.

This particular look from Ningning is so Techna that it almost feels as if it's mocking Netflix.

And doesn’t this Karina trapped inside the "black mamba" in Alexander McQueen feel like a perfect Dark Bloom moment?

These are only a few examples of interesting and creative designs that are in line with what a live action Winx Club should have given us. There are so many more I could list, even among other TV Shows, like Sex Education and even polemic dark Euphoria, that know how to have fun with style and design without losing the depth of their stories. In the end, it's hard to justify why Fate creators even wanted to make an adaptation that didn't even try to capture the heart of its source material, and all we can do is watch one more "Restyling Fate: The Winx Saga" video on Youtube whilst mildly dreading season 2.

#winx #winx club #fate the winx saga #fate: the winx saga #tv #tv/movies #cartoons #k-pop #kpop #red velvet #aespa #iz*one #fashion #costume design #art direction

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laurfilijames · 3 years

Text

Desired Effect

———

Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 2,718

Warnings: rated E. M/F unprotected intercourse. Fili is a cheeky bastard

Summary: Fili buys you a scandalous dress to wear to an event, and effectively teases you until you can’t take it any more, dragging him home for some fun.

Requested by @lilith15000, I hope this is everything you were hoping for, love! It was a pleasure to write for you, thank you for always supporting my work. Enjoy!

Weaving through the corridors on your way back to your chambers, you took in the decor around you. Tapestries hung from the ceiling, many more than normal, and all the dwarrow around you were bustling about more than usual. You smiled to yourself, excited for the reason for all of this commotion; a party.

It wasn’t going to be anything huge and extravagant, but you always looked forward to an event like this, an excuse to dress up, to have Fili standing proudly beside you the whole night with his arm locked around yours, his attention always focused on you.

Thinking about what gown you would wear as you walked through your chambers to the bathing room to run a bath, something on your bed caught your eye, making you pause and turn to look.

To your surprise, a stunning gown was laid out on the bed before you. Deep red in colour with gold details adorning it, a perfect match to Fili’s red robes he wore often to events such as tonight’s.

The closer you got to it, the more you realized it looked more like a nightgown as opposed to a formal dress. It couldn’t be for tonight, you thought, the material was thin and silky, and surely would reveal every part of you, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Fili must have intended for you to wear it around your chambers, in the comfort of your husband's company alone. You held it up in front of you and turned to look in the mirror. The neckline plunged extremely deep and there were even cut outs along the sides, acting as windows to display your skin.

You placed the dress back on the bed and began to remove your current outfit, curious to see how it would look on your body.

The feel of it against your bare skin made you feel like a Queen as soon as the hem hit the floor, the material floating over your features and accentuating every curve of you.

You tucked your lip in your teeth as you admired your reflection, thinking how Fili would no doubt have this torn off of you in an instant.

“I see you found my gift…” Fili’s voice appeared suddenly, causing you to turn in his direction to see him leaning casually against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest as he admired you.

“Fili, it’s beautiful! Thank you! I’ll wear it while I get ready for tonight.” You twisted your body back to face the mirror, a smile unable to be erased from your lips due to his sweet gesture.

“No, amralime,” he said with a playful tone, taking a step toward you. “You’ll be wearing it all night.”

You turned to him again, shocked at his statement. Barely stringing the words together, you gawked at him, “There’s no way! It’s hardly containing me!”

Now his hands were on your hips, gliding over your sides where the dress left you exposed and you heard him hum in satisfaction.

Fili gave you that look; the one where his eyes darkened, his eyebrows rose higher on his head and his lips pulled into a sly smirk, the very one that made fire pull deep within you.

“That’s exactly the point. I want everyone to see you. To see that you’re mine. You’re too beautiful to keep hidden.”

“But Fili—” you began to protest but he stopped you, his index finger landing on your lips to stop your words.

“Trust me.”

A sigh left your lungs, and suddenly you didn’t feel the need to argue anymore. Fili removed his finger from your lips and replaced it with his, his tongue demanding entrance to your mouth that you easily allowed. Trust was something you always had with Fili, so why should this be any different? Only it was the mischievous look that lingered on his face that told you he might have something else up his sleeve.

The night had been wonderful so far and it wasn’t near being over. You felt excited and exhilarated, but it wasn’t the party that had you feeling this way.

As usual, Fili couldn’t keep his hands off of you, always clutching your own or wrapping his arm around your waist while in conversation with someone, his heavy hand resting on your thigh when you were at your place at the table. Although this was a normal occurrence for the two of you, everything between you felt more charged than it typically was. It probably had everything to do with the things Fili kept whispering in your ear, or sometimes even out loud, but quiet and subtle enough that only you were able to hear. Those around you were likely thinking you were having nothing other than a warm exchange between lovers based on the smile that crossed your lips and the way Fili chuckled at your reactions.

Little did they know Fili was quickly placing you under a spell with every word that passed his lips. Things like; “See everyone watching you? They’re all thinking about the things they want to do to you. Too bad for them I’m the only one who gets to.”

Or he would discreetly trail his fingers up your thigh where your dress parted in a high cut slit, briefly touching you at the apex of your legs, his eyes dark with lust as they bore into you, saying in a low voice, “The best part about seeing you in this dress is knowing I’ll get to see you out of it soon.”

Every one of these promises made you shiver, finding yourself pressing your thighs together in an attempt to restrain yourself from spreading them apart for him right there.

You were a mess.

You even went so far as to avoid your own husband, putting distance between you any time he came near again, but it was no use. Even from across the room he knew how to make you squirm, looking you up and down like he would take you in front of everyone in the room.

It took everything in you to focus on the conversations around you, but Fili was unrelenting, determined and persistent in making you break.

Nodding along to a story you wouldn’t be able to recall the subject of even if you tried, told to you by a dwarf whose name you had long forgotten, you felt Fili brush his hand over the opening on your waist, the action making you swallow harshly and close your eyes. Curse him!

The dwarf before you continued his story, and thankfully there was a group surrounding you so he didn’t take notice of your rude behaviour.

“Did you have some dessert, amralime?” Fili asked beside you, having set his plate down on the table nearest to where you both stood before placing his hand on his hip and looking at you curiously.

“No, Fili, I did not. I’ve been slightly distracted…” you said with a playful warning.

He chuckled and his tongue darted out to lick his lips, you watching it happen like it was in slow motion.

“That’s too bad, it was delicious,” his lips turned upwards and his dimples made a more prominent appearance, making you weak once more. Choosing to ignore the effect he had on you, you turned back toward the story-teller, vowing not to succumb to the hunger that lingered in your stomach that wasn’t because you wanted dessert.

Fili leaned closer to you, his mouth beside your ear, his breath hot and sweet like the berries he’d just consumed and goosebumps erupted on your skin instantly. “It was good, but you’re going to taste better…”

That was your breaking point. You politely excused yourself from the group and gripped Fili’s arm with your hand, turning him to follow you and practically dragging him through the crowd to the doors. The cheeky dwarf dared to laugh as he struggled to keep up with you which only fueled your fire. You were going to wipe that smug grin off of his face.

As soon as you were both through the doors you moved to press him against the wall, hastily attaching your lips to his, your mouths immediately opening in your breathlessness to allow your tongues to tangle together. His hand flew up to hold your cheek, moving off the wall to replace his body with yours, your back slamming against the stone with a thud. His knee drove between your legs to part them, his hands moving down your sides tantalizingly slow. He took your hands in his and reached them up over your head at the same time he ground his hard bulge against your mound, the material gliding over the wet that had accumulated in your folds.

He pulled away from you slightly, watching your chest heave, his eyes dancing over every area of your body that the dress revealed.

“Mahal, you are a sight to behold,” Fili praised you. “This dress was the best money I’ve ever spent,” he continued, laughing before diving down to kiss your throat, pulling a drawn out moan from you.

“Although I can’t decide if I want to take you while you’re still wearing it, or rip it off of you.” His words mumbled against your skin as he explored you further, making you forget you weren’t yet in the privacy of your chambers. Then he stopped, his hands now braced on either side of your head, his pupils completely dilated as he looked at you menacingly.

“Probably both.”

You gasped when he latched onto your taught nipple through the thin fabric of the dress and quite frankly you didn’t care what happened to the dress, you simply needed him to end this ceaseless torture he’d put you through all night.

“Fìli!” you pleaded, “Take me home this instant, I’ve suffered enough!”

He grinned at you again, clearly amused by your frustrations and pulled you from the wall, making his way down the corridor toward your chambers with your hand in his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

“This is exactly what you wanted to happen, wasn’t it?” you accused him as you realized his intention for buying you such a scandalous gown, your mouth hanging open, mockingly aghast.

“I had to make it so it was your idea to leave! I didn’t want to go in the first place.”

“You’re terrible, Fili.”

Giving you a sideways glance, you all but combusted on the spot when you heard his next words.

“I’m about to show you how terrible I can be.”

Fili’s robes were being torn off and discarded on the floor, the hem of your dress hiked up to your hips even before your door was unlatched, both of you frantic to access the other. As soon as you were completely through the threshold Fili kicked the door shut with his boot, managing to push it off his foot in the process.

Buttons fell to the floor as you tore open his tunic, revealing his bare torso to you.

“Easy, now, my love. We can’t go ruining all of our best clothes.” He dared to laugh again but it was cut off, changing to a hiss when you reached forward and pulled at the laces on his trousers, his cock hanging out heavily in the cool air.

“I’m not letting you ruin this dress, Fili. I quite like the effect it had on you.” You watched him melt to your touch as you stroked his length, his head tipping back in ecstasy. His head returned to its normal position and his eyes opened to look at you when you suddenly stopped touching him, moving away to sit on the small desk that occupied the space beside the door.

Fili strode over to you, closing the short distance quickly with a ferocity that worried you slightly. His hands roughly covered your knees and pushed them apart, making room for him to stand between your legs. He pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers now roaming up the backs of your thighs to cue you to wrap your legs around his thick waist.

“I’ll do my best to refrain from ruining the gown, amralime,” he whispered in a husky voice, his lips brushing yours. He lifted it further up your body, the silky skirt pooling at your hips, exposing your abundant arousal to him. “I can’t make the same promise for you though.” The tips of his fingers grazed over you and Fili growled at how ready you were, and before he could waste another moment gripped his throbbing cock and lined it up to push through your tight entrance.

You both cried out at finally getting what you both had desired all night, your hips pushing forward to meet his already intense thrusts.

The sound of the desk banging against the wall echoed throughout your chambers, the feral tempo you worked to set revealed with every clap of wood on stone.

Teeth crashed together with every desperate kiss, nothing of what your hands and mouths were doing made any sense other than that it was as if you were trying to grasp onto each other for dear life with every touch. Curses spilled from Fili’s wet lips, making you question whether it was to prolong this session and prevent his nearing climax, when all it was doing was spurring yours on. He roared in your ear as you began your ascent, your walls closing around him, squeezing and coaxing out all he had to offer you. In your blind passion you sensed his hands grip your side, groping and clawing at you in his own frantic pursuit. His fingers slipped through one of the cutouts on the side of your gown, the sound of material ripping registering on you just as you shouted through your high.

There was no time to care, still focused on riding out the shuddering bliss that rattled through you while Fili pounded into you in search of his own. His mouth covered yours, sloppy and clumsy, and with a growl that reverberated through you, you felt him coat your insides with his hot spend.

After a few moments of panting and kissing, Fili pulled out of you and took a step back, running his fingers through his sweaty hair that you’d efficiently messed up during your activities. He stumbled slightly, moving his hands from his hair to run over his beard like he was trying to catch his bearings again. His body was coated in a layer of sweat from his exertion, and despite your very small annoyance that your dress was ruined you couldn’t help but admire the masterpiece that was your husband standing before you in all his glory.

You cleared your throat to regain his attention, fiddling with the tattered piece of dress between your fingers to draw his gaze there.

A sigh left him and he placed his hands on his hips, shrugging slightly as a sated smile pulled at his dimples. “I’m sorry, I truly didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said vaguely, his attempt at an apology weak.

Unconvinced, you gave him a pointed look but then squirmed where you remained when he took a step toward you again, gathering the edge of your dress in his hands, his expression hungry once more.

“Seeing as it is now torn,” he looked from your exposed midsection up to your eyes with renewed spirit, “I’m going to have to take it off of you and take you for a second time without any part of you hidden from me.”

A yelp escaped you when Fili gripped your bottom and slid you off the desk, dragging you down to the floor with him. Both of you erupted in laughter, the thin and scratchy rug not softening the landing whatsoever, but your discomfort was soon forgotten when you were slowly guided to lay on your back, your dress slipped up and over your head, the silky garment now used as your blanket.

Fili settled himself between your legs, slowly kissing you while gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, an indication that this next round would be unhurried and measured, a stark contrast to the rush you both found yourselves in earlier.

———

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea

Fili: @shethereadinghobbit

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